This edited volume is the third in Routledge's The Senses in Antiquity series, following Synaesthesia and the Ancient Senses (ed. S. Butler and A. Purves [2013]) and Smell and the Ancient Senses (ed. M. Bradley [2015]). Sensory studies are thriving, and Classics is fast becoming permeated with multisensory perspectives on texts, places and artefacts. S.’s rich introduction does little to contextualise this disciplinary boom within the broader scholarly milieu of sensory studies, but it does offer plenty of food for thought on seeing, being seen and not seeing in antiquity. Crucial to a sensory approach is to be wary of imposing our sensory order with its canonical five senses onto other cultures, past and present. Yet in the case of the ancient Greeks and Romans, their own writings tell us that this is how they organised perception (our own system deriving ultimately from the Classical one), and that vision was held in a pre-eminent position. Therefore the backlash against ocular-centrism that gives impetus to many sensory studies is rightly suspended here, and this volume allows vision to take centre stage. Unfortunately, as S. highlights (p. 2), ‘ancient words can never reproduce the sensory experience of past seeing’, or of any other perception for that matter, despite the contributors’ diverse and fascinating efforts.
The book ranges from Protoattic ceramics of the seventh century b.c.e. to the eleventh-century c.e. theories of optics of Alhacen; some chapters focus on specific periods, while others are more of a ‘panoramic roaming’ (p. 89). Nevertheless, some natural groups arise amongst the contributions. Four of the chapters are primarily concerned with ancient theories about how vision actually worked. The volume opens with K. Rudolph's chapter on the Presocratic philosophers’ understandings of sight. Working with the fragmentary texts of Alcmaeon, Anaxagoras, Empedocles and Democritus, she pieces together theories of reflection, intromission and extramission. With effluences streaming from an object into the eye (intromission) or the eye sending out rays towards the object (extramission), vision was a curiously tactile sense for these writers. Such attempts to reconcile a physiological process with a neurological one are further discussed by A. Nightingale, who brings the philosophical debate into the fourth century b.c.e., starting with Democritus again, and then moving on to Plato and Aristotle. Her clear exposition of the right and wrong ways of seeing the world neatly demonstrates how philosophers’ theories of vision were embedded in their theories of mind and cosmos.
Two other chapters also reflect upon how seeing happened, both via the lens of ancient optics – a geometrical approach to vision based around angles of rays. According to R. Netz and S., this was not a clearly defined scientific/philosophical field or category of writing in the ancient world. Instead, optics was covered as a minor theme by authors whose main focus was wider mathematical studies, such as Archimedes and Ptolemy, and texts on the subject are accordingly scarce. The ten most substantial surviving texts are reviewed here, focusing on burning mirrors, perspective (an anachronistic term, as they freely admit), catoptrics (images in mirrors) and dioptrics (instruments of sighting). Apart from these fascinating examples, the compelling conclusion of Netz and S. is that optics walked a fine line between the physical world and the abstract, struggling to gain credence because visual perception was something to be transcended by philosophy rather than rooted in materiality. M. Smith's chapter, the last in the book, balances this argument nicely by demonstrating the legacy of optics in Late Antiquity and in the Arabic tradition (e.g. in Avicenna and Alhacen). This dense contribution concludes with the startling but salient point that ancient thinking about sight persisted until Kepler's theory of retinal imaging in the seventeenth century c.e.
Metaphorical rather than actual ways of seeing are covered in chapters by J. Elsner and S., and R. Webb. Here we learn about visual stimuli as mnemonic devices, relied upon by orators for structuring speeches while also allowing room for creativity, as well as how poets created images in the mind's eye of things that did not exist. It was not just humans who could ‘see’, however, and a number of the chapters mention or focus on artefacts as active viewers too. J. Grethlein reminds us of the prevalence of eyes on Greek painted pottery, notably eye-cups that visualise and reflect upon the beholder's act of viewing. His main case studies show how vase paintings prompted the viewer to relate their own vision to that of the represented figures. Meanwhile, S. Turner's gravestones gaze back at the observer, and R. Bielfeldt's lamps emit light and have a seeing eye, serving as mute witnesses to human lives. Unsurprisingly, Medusa raises her head throughout the book, the tension between her petrifying gaze and the safety of viewing her image being explored by several of the authors.
Encounters with divinity are suggested to have been mediated predominantly via sight in both the Classical and early Christian eras. V. Platt considers how, when and in what form gods appeared to mortals, noting that when divine beings did become visible (an epiphany), they had a metamorphic effect on the human. The human response to such visions lay in the ritual sphere, for example building temples or other commemorative monuments. Such acts transformed private visions into visible public structures, which, in turn, then influenced appearances of gods in dreams – Platt recounts instances whereby deities are described as looking like their statues. An epiphanic tradition underpins Christianity too, and J. Heath explores how viewing the resurrected Christ was fundamental to belief, as well as how the faith shaped attitudes to sight. She also makes interesting points about Christian iconography, where suffering was made visible via the body and how the blind could regain sight through Jesus.
Vision is a sense not to be trusted, and tricking the eyes, as well as absence of sight, are also covered in the volume. J. Tanner presents evidence for illusionistic painting in the Athenian theatre (skenographia) and in tombs at Lefkadia (skiagraphia), covering the development of perspectival imagery and the use of shadows and tones – both techniques rendering the artificial more realistic. L. Coo uses the story of the musician Thamyris to explore blindness in mythology. Usually associated with humans who would otherwise exceed human limits (e.g. poets, seers), lack of physical sight is compensated for by increased insight. The difficulty involved in viewing blindness in theatres or iconography is also discussed – how was lack of sight demonstrated or implied to the spectator? Death in the Classical world was conceived of as the ultimate blindness but funerary ceremonies and monuments ensured that the dead person remained visible in the world of the living. Although Greeks and Romans differed with regard to funerary practices and memorialisation, Turner shows how in both cultures private mourning could become public spectacle.
Phenomenological studies of place, dominated by vision, have been commonplace in archaeology for over 20 years, and it is somewhat surprising that no piece here considers monuments or sites in this manner (paintings at Lefkadia and Pompeii are discussed, but the physicality of the spaces is under-theorised). Indeed, it would be intriguing to try to link philosophical theories of vision to contemporary places – could we ‘see’ the buildings on the Acropolis in a different way, for example? Of course, not all topics can be included in an edited volume, and overall this book is a stimulating, excellent production with very few errors (shame about the ‘List of Illustations’, p. v). The extensive footnotes and 42-page bibliography, which includes publications up to 2015, surely contain something new for everyone. All ancient quotations are translated, and most are also in the original language. Illustrations are useful and clear, although only Tanner's chapter features colour plates – a pity but presumably related to cost. As S. notes, the chapters do ‘talk with one another’, which creates a strong feeling of unity for the whole volume. This reviewer is surely not the only reader who will feel that this book has contributed to ‘learning to see’ anew.
