Home › 2023

Yearly Archives: 2023

Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library 101: Investigating the Haverfield Archive / Part IV

Posted on by

The Bodleian Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library’s Haverfield Archive is perhaps best described as an assortment of archaeological paraphernalia. From coloured prints to illustrations of mosaic pavements, site plans and publications the archive has the potential to serve as a great source of information for researchers working on Roman Britain. In the final post of this series (posts I, II and III were published in 2020), I want to concentrate on why there is an archive in the first place. I believe that this is an important question we should be asking when considering all of these collected documents. When I first viewed the archive in 2019, it was unclear why the notable archaeologist and ancient historian Francis G. Haverfield (1860-1919) had decided to collect images of Roman floor mosaics as well as of related art works and other archaeological discoveries, assembling them within a very particular framework: Sometimes the images are organised according to chronology or geographic location, but also quite frequently their design or iconography is what makes them part of a specific group. The motivation behind the archive appeared to have been lost from social memory and the key players behind it are no longer here to give their reasons. Therefore, our only option is to piece together what clues have been left behind. Haverfield himself also left a text-based archive but this has never been catalogued and there is no finding aid to it; in any event, the Covid lockdown prevented prolonged access during my 12-month graduate library traineeship (September 2019-August 2020), the period when I was examining the collection. Working on archaeological sites, the only clues we have of people from the past are the objects that they have thrown away or accidentally lost. Since there may have been a reason why documents were grouped together in specific ways, I made sure that the Haverfield floor mosaic images were identified as belonging to the same assemblages in which I found them.

Throughout his life, Haverfield remained convinced that archaeology needed better funding. As mentioned in the first post, in his will he left his papers and books to the University of Oxford. After his death in 1919, Haverfield also left a substantial bequest, for which the University appointed a group of academics to serve as administrators. This group would develop policies for the use of its funds, with the intention of enhancing the study of Roman Britain. This included contributing towards the expense of collecting and preparing materials for publication. These planned projects included A Corpus of Roman Bronzes in Britain and A Corpus of Roman Glass. The prints of Roman floor mosaics in the Haverfield Archive could have been materials gathered for a similar project. It is possible that a group of scholars gathered together prints for an eventual publication, but that the project failed to materialise. With early antiquarian discoveries of mosaics, nobody from the field had really decided to create a nationwide inventory of Roman mosaics in Britain. Haverfield and his associates may have intended to produce this collected inventory.

So-called ‘Lion mosaic’ found at Aldborough (Inventory n. 2.13)

Haverfield already had connections to the archaeological sites where some of the mosaics originated. For example, the Yorkshire Archaeological Society began another excavation on the Roman remains at Aldborough (for description see blog post II), reportedly under  Haverfield’s guidance.

It is possible that Haverfield was using his image collection, along with descriptions from previous sites, to inform his approach to the excavation at Aldborough. In archaeological reports, it is very typical for there to be a description of previous excavations at the same site. In fact, it could have been Haverfield’s intention to include illustrations of the mosaics previously found at Aldborough in a new publication in order to draw attention to Roman archaeology in Britain.

Further evidence of Haverfield’s intention to publish the documents in his visual archive is the presence of several prints of the same floor mosaic found at Stonesfield (see blog posts II and III). By 1713, two influential illustrations of the mosaic were widely available. One of these was the version produced by Thomas Hearne and Michael Burghers, which I discussed in the second blog post in this series. The other illustration was made by Edward Loving and was circulated more widely than Hearne and Burgher’s version. Similar to Hearne and Burgher’s version, Loving’s illustration was presented to the Royal Society in full colour. Loving proposed to the Society that the illustration should be engraved on copper plate. Presumably, the Society was won over by Loving’s persuasiveness and ordered a copy of the illustration to be framed. Reportedly, Hearne disliked Loving’s version of the mosaic as it allegedly had many inaccuracies.

 

Inventory n. 1.15

Loving’s version of the Stonesfield mosaic could well be Inventory n. 1.15, as there are handwritten notes on both sides of the print. These pencilled notes include ‘same in Piccino’, ‘For Venice’ and ‘Pitisco Lexicon antiq.’. As arbitrary as these notes seem, they do make sense when context is provided since Loving’s version was republished in later international editions. It was first included as a frontispiece in Samuel Pitiscus’ Lexicon Antiquitatum (Leeuwarden, 1713) and a smaller version of the illustration was made by Suor Piccino in Venice, 1719. Suor Piccino’s version was then copied for a compilation of antiquities by the French antiquary Benard de Montfaucon (1655-1741) for his Antiquity Explain’d (Paris, 1719). This version may be present in the archive since Inventory n. 2.2A also has handwritten notes including ‘From Montfaucon’. The print itself is very similar to Inventory n. 1.15. The evidence of the multiple print versions of the Stonesfield mosaic and how several prints were even annotated indicates that a plan was in place to compare all of these versions. Thus, it is very possible that this material was intended to form a section of work in an eventual publication.

A further indication that materials in this archive were intended to be published, is the way in which Haverfield grouped and presented the images. There are various examples in the archive of mosaic prints being combined onto one large cardboard sheet. Inventory n. 1.6 B is of interest as at the top of one such cardboard sheet where ‘Northamptonshire’ has been pencilled in. It is these examples of assembled images which make the archive unique, as the documents are more than just a collection of images taken from different publications. Similarly, Inventory n. 1.14 also has ‘Northamptonshire 1’ pencilled in the same handwriting. This may reveal some of Haverfield’s approaches to these illustrations. Haverfield may have decided to paste certain prints of mosaics onto the same sheet if they all came from the same county. Indeed, the mosaics featured in Inventory n. 1.6B and 1.14 all came from places in Northamptonshire. The layout of the document may indicate how Haverfield wanted the prints to be arranged for the plates of a future publication.

There are some further instances, where the illustrations have been pasted on both sides of a cardboard sheet. For example, Inventory n. 1.5 has one side featuring the ‘Orpheus’ mosaic from Littlecote Park (see post iii) and the other side is of a mosaic found in Rudge.

‘Orpheus’ mosaic discovered at Littlecote Park (Inventory n. 1.5A)

 

Both mosaics were discovered in Wiltshire, further showing how Haverfield continued to collate images in groups of different counties. Inventory n. 1.10 has two sides of beautifully coloured mosaic prints from Castor with ‘Northamptonshire 4’ and ‘Northamptonshire 5’ pencilled on each side. This also illustrates how important the Haverfield Archive is, as we can use it to follow the thought process behind Haverfield’s choices for publication.

 

 

There are several exceptions to the geographical approach, suggesting that the way in which Haverfield collated his images was at times completely different. On one side of Inventory n. 1.17 is a print featuring a series of Roman coins at the top, with an image of a mosaic below. It is unclear where exactly the mosaic and the coins are from. The print does provide a clue, with the Earl of Harborough attributed as the patron, as Harborough is a district located within Leicestershire. The print on the reverse shows fragments of painted wall plaster from Aldborough whose design resembles that of floor mosaic patterns. From the description, they appear to be an illustrated plate taken from Henry Ecroyd Smith’s Reliquiae Isurianae.

 

 

A contradictory example is Inventory n. 2.2. One side features Edward Loving’s version of the Stonesfield mosaic and the other features a small print of a mosaic from Carthage. Aside from some similarities in iconography, these prints appear to have little to no connection to each other. These are certainly not anomalies. In Folder 3, the first two sheets I indexed comprised both sides having prints pasted on them which also appeared to be unrelated, chronologically or geographically, to each other. It is possible that there were reasons behind each decision to attach a print on the reverse of another one, but such motivations are now lost (or require more in-depth study).

Finally, I wanted to discuss how Haverfield’s theory of Romanization applies to the archive. I introduced the concept of Romanization in the first post of this series. Haverfield sought to elucidate the incorporation of Britain into the Roman Empire, which he viewed as a cultural assimilation rather than enforced acceptance. Haverfield was the first British academic to systematically consider the cultural consequences of the 43 C.E. Roman invasion through archaeological evidence. For Haverfield, this evidence suggested that Britain fully participated in Roman culture. His theory challenged previous views — which reflected British early 20th century colonial values — that it was through invasion and colonisation that Britons became more ‘civilised’ and ‘Romanized’. For Haverfield, therefore, the term ‘Romanization’, therefore, indicated a more ongoing and active process. To him, Roman Britain was not a stage of British history, but rather one of several cumulative parts of the Roman Empire. It is no wonder that he may have developed an interest in Roman floor mosaics, especially if they mirrored similar designs in Imperial Rome.

 

 

Haverfield once told an audience ‘It is no use to know about Roman Britain in particular unless you know about the Roman Empire in general’. Roman Britain was not a stand-alone entity but was rather one part of an all-encompassing, global Empire. In order to fully understand Roman Britain, one has also to study Imperial Rome. It is difficult to say whether Haverfield himself was affected by the superior philosophy developed by many affluent gentlemen during the peak of the British Empire. In the third post of this series I discussed how the antiquarians who created illustrations of mosaics which partly constitute the Haverfield Archive may have perceived floor mosaic remains as a tangible link between the British and the Roman Empires. Whilst historians should always seek to remain neutral when exploring the past, it is often impossible to not be influenced by the period of history one is living in.

Haverfield was once quoted as saying that with the Roman Empire:

‘‘Its imperial system, alike in its differences and similarities, lights up our own Empire, for example India, at every turn. The methods by which Rome incorporated and denationalised and assimilated more than half of its wide dominions, and the success of Rome, unintended but perhaps complete, in spreading its Graeco-Roman culture over more than a third of Europe and a part of Africa, concern in many ways our own aged Empire” (Journal of Roman studies, vol I, pg xviii-xix, quoted from Craster, 1920: 70).

To an extent, therefore, Haverfield was making direct comparisons between the Roman and British Empires. Like his contemporaries, Haverfield’s thinking may have been somewhat influenced by colonial attitudes. British imperial expansion combined with an education which sought to celebrate the accomplishments of classical civilisation may have informed his world view. Despite this, it is unclear in the above quote whether Haverfield is explicitly glorifying the British Empire or, rather, condemning it.

The ultimate purpose of Haverfield’s visual archive is not completely clear. Although evidence points towards how Haverfield may have gathered illustrations of archaeological discoveries for a planned publication, it is never explicitly stated that this was his intention. Throughout the process of indexing a small part of this visual archive I felt as if I was following a trail of bread crumbs. Each handwritten note, each new copy of the same print was another crumb of evidence. However, Haverfield’s decision to give his papers, books, and some of his wealth to the University of Oxford in order to enhance the study of archaeology is a clear intention. As mentioned at the beginning of this post, Haverfield was convinced that the discipline of archaeology needed better funding and research. It would not be surprising if he had wanted his life’s mission to continue long after his death. By passing on his knowledge and funds, he would guarantee the continuation of the study of the archaeology of Roman Britain. I hope that now the archive has been advertised  through a digital medium, there will be a renewed interest in its contents for future research projects.

This is the final blog post in this series. I would like to thank the Sackler’s Librarian-in-Charge, Clare Hills-Nova, for inviting me to work on this project and providing support and advice throughout. I would also like to thank the Classics and Classical Archaeology Librarian, Charlotte Goodall, for her advice and guidance. Finally, a special thanks to Samuel Bolsover who proof-read all of my work.

Chloe Bolsover
Graduate Library Trainee (2019-2020)
Taylor Institution Library

Learning and  Teaching Librarian
Sheffield Hallam University

References

18th September 1903. Yorkshire Archaeological Society. British Architect. 216-217

Craster, HHE. 1920. Francis Haverfield. The English Historical Review, 63-70

Draper, J, Freshwater, T, Henig, M, and Hinds, S. 2000. From Stone to Textile: The Bacchus Mosaic at Stonesfield, Oxon, and the Stonesfield Embroidery. Journal of the British Archaeological Association. 153:1, 1-29.

Freeman, PWM. 2007. The Best Training-Ground for Archaeologists. Oxford: Oxbow Books

Hingley, Richard. The recovery of Roman Britain 1586-1906: a colony so fertile. 2008. Oxford. Oxford University Press

Levine, J. 1978. The Stonesfield Pavement: Archaeology in Augustan England. Eighteenth Century Studies, Vol 11, No. 3. 340-361

Todd, M. 2003. The Haverfield Bequest, 1921-2000 and the Study of Roman Britain. Britannia, Vol 34, 35-40

Art, Archaeology, and Ancient World 101: Supporting Classics in Oxford

Posted on by

Tempora mutantur: Two Decades as a Classics Librarian
By Charlotte Goodall

 

Acknowledgement: Reproduced by kind permission of the author; and of the editor of Antigone: An Open Forum for Classics

 

 

September next year will mark my twentieth anniversary as Classics Librarian for the Bodleian Library [and the Sackler Library] in the University of Oxford. My time overseeing the Classics collection at Oxford has coincided with a period of great change, both in librarianship and in the way scholarship in Classics is carried out.

I came into the job in the early days of electronic resources, when very few journals were available online, and the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae was still only available on CD-ROM, loaded onto specific computers and with a simple text based search interface. In the Bodleian, we operated a book-ordering system unchanged since the 1930s, consisting of hand-written slips, filled out in triplicate, inserted into zinc cases and sent down pneumatic tubes from the reading room to the bookstack. The concept of ordering books online via the library catalogue, accessible through the internet, was still very new.

Tunnel under Broad Street.

The book tunnel connecting the Bodleian beneath Broad Street.

In Classics, we were quite advanced for a humanities subject already, as we had the TLG as well as the Packard Humanities Index CDs. These would allow basic searching of Classical Greek and Latin texts and some epigraphical works. By today’s standards, it was clunky, but at the time these resources were starting to revolutionise the way the subject was being approached, and to challenge the way Classics was served by the libraries and librarians who were the concierges of this new information landscape.

I arrived in Oxford as a graduate student in 1999, having completed my B.A. in Classics at University College Dublin. For me, Oxford was a jarring experience. Dublin had been a fabulous city to be a student; bustling, exciting, with a cosmopolitan nightlife and a feeling of modernity and fun. Oxford, on the other hand, felt provincial, dark and quiet. Everything shut at 6pm (apart from one shop at the top of Headington High Street that was open 24 hrs: students would take taxis there and back to buy cigarettes and cheap bottles of wine). Even the streetlamps were less bright. College dinners (formal hall every night, gowns required) were fun at first but the quality of the food was sometimes astonishingly awful (mutton stew, overboiled carrots, not enough potatoes to go around).

Radcliffe Camera at night.

Oxford’s Radcliffe Camera of an evening.

Academically, I was extremely fortunate to have been taught by some of the finest Classical scholars of our time. I had papyrology classes from Peter Parsons; I got sent to a terrifying meeting with the philosopher Myles Burnyeat at All Souls (he was surprisingly kind). I went to Nigel Wilson’s palaeography seminars, and listened to Martin West’s lectures on Greek Metre. I spent most of my time in the libraries. The Bodleian Lower Reading Room had only one row of desks that were wired with sockets for laptops, and I would be waiting for the doors to open every morning to secure one of these precious spaces.

There was also the library of the Ashmolean Museum (the predecessor of the Sackler Library) which was located at the back of the museum, accessed through a door at the end of the Cast Gallery. The Ashmolean Library was tiny, with a precarious spiral staircase of filigree cast-iron that would take you up to the mezzanine floor (a warning to female readers not to wear skirts was part of the induction process!). There were anglepoise lamps on the desks, and a sense that this was where “serious scholarship” was taking place.

It had now become clear that this “serious scholarship” was probably not for me. I enjoyed my time as a graduate student, but realised that I didn’t want to be an academic. There were other things in my life that brought me joy, and I didn’t want to be tied to a lifestyle that demanded so much of me. So I got a part-time job with Oxfam as an archival assistant, which taught me some of the basics of information management, and helped me recognise that I wanted to work in an area that used my education. As someone who studied exclusively in these libraries as a student, I knew their collections intimately. I was also curious about how libraries were organised and managed. Timing worked in my favour, and when I was finally in a position to apply, the job of Classics Librarian happened to become vacant.

Entrance to Sackler Library.

The Art, Archaeology, and Ancient World Library, Oxford.

My predecessor had been an old-fashioned Librarian, who ruled over the Bodleian Lower Reading Room with a stern eye and hand-catalogued every book on the shelves. My role was expanded to encompass the newly-opened Sackler Library, and I was to oversee the provision for Classics across two sites. The Sackler had absorbed the collections of the old Ashmolean Library, as well as the Art History, Archaeology, and Ancient Near East collections, and had also taken in the Classics Lending Library for undergraduates.

The building was a new-build neo-Classical rotunda, tucked in behind the museum; it had been designed as a traditional library, though at a time when libraries were changing quickly. It housed the lending collection for Classics, and would in time become one of the preeminent collections in the world for Classical Studies, Egyptology and Ancient Near East, Art History, and Classical Archaeology. For the first time in Oxford, Classics had a budget and an individual (me) whose job it was to oversee the purchase of material published across the world, in multiple languages, covering the entire scope of Classical studies. I was also trained in the traditions of cataloguing, and the archaic workings of the Bodleian, with its confusing collection of classification schemes and complicated procedures.

At the same time, the relatively novel concept of electronic provision was gaining momentum. Journals, especially from English speaking countries, were increasingly published online, although the subscriptions were often complex and expensive. Online publishing was in its infancy and publishers were struggling with figuring out how to adapt to the evolving requirements of their customers.

Shelving in CSF.

Some of the fifteen miles of shelves at the Bodleian Libraries’ Book Store, Swindon.

Increasingly, as we moved through the mid and late 2000s, libraries were at the forefront of pushing innovation and facilitating new approaches to scholarship. The TLG went fully online in 2008, rendering the CD-ROMs obsolete, and Brepols’ Library of Latin Texts had an online searchable interface for Latin that was superior to the old Packard Humanities Institute disks[1]. Perseus, which had existed since the 1980s, was showing how open-source, web-based resources could be developed, giving access to searchable lexica for the first time.[2] Big publishers such as Brill started to digitise some of their large works of scholarship (such as the Jacoby, the essential collection of fragmentary Greek historians which we first purchased online in 2007).[3] Digitisation became the buzzword of the time.

In the libraries, we had to help our readers and scholars access these new resources, and figure out how to host and service them. Google partnered with the Bodleian, creating digital scans of the Bodleian’s 19th century collections in 2009. This project was overly ambitious for the time, as the technology was not quite ready for it, and the scans were often of poor quality; also, Optical Character Recognition (OCR), which automatically converts printed type into a digital document, was not available at the time. However, there was a clear appetite for digital texts, and the technology was catching up with the requirements of readers.

Sophocles title page.Title-page of Elmsley’s edition of Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus (Oxford, 1811), one of nearly a million 19th-century books scanned from the Bodleian Library for the Google Books project.

In Oxford, as the 2010s came around, issues of space and conservation were impossible to ignore. The opening of the Gladstone Link, which used the refurbished area of the old bookstack under the Radcliffe Camera and the tunnel that attached this to the Old Library, was the first big physical change to the fabric of the buildings since the 1930s.

It had become clear that instead of the old bookstack, a modern “book storage facility” was needed, and it proved impossible to build such a facility in Oxford. It ended up being constructed in Swindon, 30 miles away. The facility provides a modern, climate-controlled environment where the majority of our books are stored, to be fetched when required by readers. The old bookstack and the 1930s “New Bodleian” were refurbished as the beautiful Weston Library, which opened in 2015.

New Library on Broad Street.Refurbished Weston Library.

The Bodleian’s Weston Library (below), the recent refurbishment of the New Bodleian (pictured above in 2009).

It was always difficult to balance the different media of publication with the needs of our different readers. While so much was becoming available online, it was clear that in certain circumstances, reading print would always be preferred. However, it took the COVID-19 pandemic to fully break down some of the barriers and preconceptions around using electronic publications. As a library service, we had to pivot quickly to provide fully remote services, and we were able to introduce scanning on demand, and a hugely expanded library of electronic texts. Now our library buildings are as busy as ever, but our electronic provision continues to expand: we are, for instance, the largest user of the TLG in the world.

Open Access is our newest challenge. The academic publishing world has changed hugely in the last few years, and open-access journal publishing is now a requirement for all funding bodies in the UK and for the REF.[4] Open Access monograph publishing will be a requirement in the future. The cost of academic journal publishing and access has been outsourced to the libraries, and it is a challenge to manage this in a fair and understandable way. Classics still follows a relatively traditional publication model, but Open Access is here to stay, and deals between libraries and publishers increasingly dictate what journals are accessible to researchers.

Venn Diagram of Open Access standards.

A Venn diagram of “Open Access colours”.

As librarians we are required to understand often confusing, fast-changing rules and concepts, and to be able to communicate them to our readers. As libraries, we have been paying huge amounts of money to facilitate access to journals, for which our own academics often acted as editors. The future of library provision will involve negotiating and understanding the quickly evolving world of Open Access publishing, and helping our academics do the same.

Trends in scholarship come and go, and the books that are published every year reflect this. Each week, we librarians receive a spreadsheet of every academic book received by the Bodleian. I scan the lists, picking out the Classics books and deciding where they should go. It gives me a perspective on how some of these titles could have been published at any time in the past century – but the scholarship and technology used to produce them have changed beyond recognition. As libraries, we house and preserve the physical or digital books and retain their contents for posterity, but we also facilitate the infrastructure that allows the scholarship that produces these books to take place.

Duke Humfrey's Library interior. Arts End.

Duke Humfrey’s Library, the oldest reading room in the Bodleian. Humphrey of Lancaster (1390–1447), 1st Duke of Gloucester (and youngest son of Henry IV), bequeathed 281 manuscripts to the university.

I was given the responsibility of looking after the archive of the Sackler Library, which holds the papers of a number of prominent Classicists and Archaeologists from the twentieth century. Part of my work involves making these papers available to scholars who are interested in the history of Classical scholarship, and the history of excavation and the study of Roman Britain. It always strikes me that the generation of scholars who left behind these detailed written remains will, in some ways, be the last: so much of today’s ephemera is created digitally, and it is very unclear how such material will be preserved for posterity. A notebook or a photograph from 1923 is far more accessible and more easily conserved than, for example, something saved on a 3.5-inch diskette in 2003. This will also change the way we understand the development of our subject in years to come.

The decisions we make as scholars and librarians affect the way our subject is studied in the future. The way we document these decisions will inform future scholars and librarians and their own perspectives and interests. This is one of the things that continue to intrigue and excite me about my role and about the future path of Classical scholarship.

Charlotte Goodall

Charlotte Goodall
Subject Librarian for Classics & Classical Archaeology
Bodleian Libraries

Notes

[1] The Packard Humanities Institute (PHI) was founded in 1987, and provided searchable digital texts of Classical Latin authors and epigraphical texts. In the 1990s and 2000s, these were issued on CD-ROM and had to be loaded onto individual computers, although they later became networkable. The PHI still exists as a web-based searchable database

[2] The Perseus Digital Library (formally the Perseus Project) is an open-access, open-source collection of Classical texts, translations, and other resources freely available online.

[3] Brill‘s New Jacoby is a digital edition of Felix Jacoby’s Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker (Fragments of the Greek Historians) Parts1–3 (published 1923–94).

[4] The Research Excellence Framework (REF) is an evaluation of British universities conducted by the national research funding bodies to assess the research carried out by these institutions and inform their future funding allocations.

Ukraine: One Year On (24/02/2023)

Posted on by

Renewing and Displaying our Ukrainian Collections

By Jamie Copeland

Ukrainian Artists book display, marking one year since the Russian invasion (24 January 2023) Photo credit Jamie Copeland

 

Since the start of the Russian invasion of Ukraine (24 January 2022), the Bodleian Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library has maintained a book display celebrating Ukrainian culture and presenting a selection of the material held in our collections that can enrich awareness of Ukraine’s art, architecture, archaeology and history. It was also intended to refresh this display periodically, both to mark events such as Ukraine Independence Day and to guard against the impression that attention has moved on. The change of material is also an opportunity to address areas that may not have been as prominent in previous displays, while drawing on the expanding collection and resources available.

The first anniversary of the invasion was an obvious moment both to reflect upon the events of the past year and to address some of the issues that I have become aware of. One of the difficulties that I had encountered was in finding material featuring contemporary artists and their responses to the ‘special military operation’ and the preceding near-decade of Russian hostilities. Although many cultural institutions and journals have commemorated the war many of the articles and institutional resources remain online only. I was able, however, to find a physical issue of the journal Artforum that has a description of an artist’s experience of the onset of the war and images of their reaction to it.

 

 

The second issue that I wanted the display to address was a response to Putin’s speech denying Ukraine’s statehood, and his preceding essay “On the historical unity of Russians and Ukrainians”, something I had considered during the display’s previous iteration but had learned more about over the last year. The publication ‘Postcolonial Europe?: essays on post-communist literatures and cultures’ was useful in this regard, especially the chapter titled ‘Ukrainian Culture after Communism’.

 

 

One of the major figures of Ukrainian nationhood is Mikhail Hrushevsky, historian and President of the Central Rada (Central Council of Ukraine) before its overthrow by German backed forces in April 1918. Hrushevsky continued his efforts to claim a historical legitimacy for Ukraine independent of Russia for the rest of his life, despite mounting repression. One of his more popular works was The Illustrated history of Ukraine, a single volume edition derived from his ten volume Survey of the History of the Ukrainian People, the first major work on Ukrainian history. The early 1913 version can be contrasted with the revised, post-independence 1997 edition.

 

Mikhail Grushevskīĭ . History of the Ukrainian People. 1913/1997

 

A complication in selecting publications for the display was the definition of a Ukrainian. From various perspectives (for example frequent border and regime shifting) the list could include people of Ukrainian heritage, such as Hrushevsky himself, who was born in Chełm, then part of Poland subject to Imperial Russia, to a family of the Ukrainian aristocracy. There are also artists such as Abraham Manievich, born in Belarus to a Jewish family, who studied in Kiev and was a co-founder of the Ukrainian Academy of Fine Arts. Although primarily resident in Kiev, he travelled throughout the Russian Empire and Europe before emigrating to the United States after the murder of his son in a pogrom during the Russian Civil War. A similar example is Sonia Delauney, also Jewish, born in Odessa, but who moved to St. Petersburg in her early childhood. She then moved to Paris at the age of fifteen. Would it be justifiable to include an important artist, the first living female artist to have a retrospective exhibition of her work at the Louvre (1964), just because her birthplace was in Ukraine although her education and career took place abroad? One of the quotes about her work addressed the subject of Ukraine as a formative influence upon her work.

“About 1911 I had the idea of making for my son, who had just been born, a blanket composed of bits of fabric like those I had seen in the houses of Ukrainian peasants. When it was finished, the arrangement of the pieces of material seemed to me to evoke cubist conceptions and we then tried to apply the same process to other objects and paintings.” Sonia Delaunay.[12]

 

Sonia Delaunay. Compositions for a binding of ‘Der Sturm’.

 

The recent exhibition In the Eye of the Storm: Modernism in Ukraine, 1900-1930s (Madrid, Thyssen-Bornemisza National Museum, 29/11/2022 – 30/04/2023) displayed works from their the museum’s collection in conjunction with works from the national collections of Ukraine; this was a response to the Museums for Ukraine initiative, providing a cultural protest to both the invasion and Russia’s denial of a separate Ukraine culture. In the accompanying publication Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza addresses this subject, stating that the war is ‘not only about controlling territory, but also about owning the narrative’. In the introduction, the curator and art historian Konstantin Akinsha traces the history of modern Ukraine from the culturally tolerant early years of the Bolsheviks, through the terror of the Stalinist years, the relative calm of Khrushchev and the re-emergence of Ukraine as a nation state. In parallel with this political history runs a cultural history with the idealism of Ukrainian modernism experiencing both genocidal suppression and Russian appropriation as the Western art markets made modernism useful to the USSR, then the post-Soviet attempt to rediscover and exhibit the ‘Ukrainian Avant-Garde’. The lives of various artists, as they experienced fates ranging from execution, imprisonment, exile to suppression,were restricted as they saw their works confined to the ‘Spetsfond’ a sealed archive for works produced by ‘formalists’, ‘nationalists’ and other ‘criminals’. In the Eye of the Storm is broadly divided into parts, with the first three – on Kyiv, Karkhiv, and Odesa – following the various regions and associated schools with distinctive but connected experiences as they attempted to preserve the expression of their selves in the face of an overwhelming hegemonic power. The fourth part, ‘Aftermath’, follows the lives of the surviving artists. An essay, ‘From Oblivion to Glory’, discusses the Spetsfond and its function as an inadvertent resource for the subsequent study of Ukrainian art; with works held by the State Ukrainian Museum then divided among five categories, determining (for example) whether they could be exhibited, used for scientific work or transferred. The final paragraph of the book notes:

‘Almost all works from the spetsfond were allocated to the fifth group, the so-called zero category, with the majority being taken out of their frames and rolled up. As luck would have it, this eventually saved them from destruction. Because the zero category did not belong to the Museum’s primary collection it never featured in official reports and was not subject to further checks. All works from this group, therefore, remained intact in the Museum’s vaults to be discovered by future generations of curators and art historians.’

 

Vladimir Kruglov. Zinaida Serebryakova (2004) Book cover.
Zinaida Serebryakova. On the Terrace in Kharkov. 1919. Novosibirsk State Art Museum, Novosibirsk

With this in mind I wanted to display the work of artists not restricted by artistic schools or questions of identity, but to focus on their response to Ukraine as a nation. Zinaida Serebryakova, was born in Kharkiv in 1884, her family prominent in the artistic establishment of the Russian Empire. She spent much of her life in exile, often in near poverty after the death of her husband and her reluctance to conform to depicting the preferred subjects of the Soviet establishment, preferring instead to paint landscapes, scenes of rural life and domestic portraits, often of her children. Unable to afford the materials for her preferred technique of oil painting she then worked with cheaper materials such as pencil and charcoal, learning to sketch rapidly. In 1924 she was given a commission for a mural in Paris, leaving her four children under the care of her mother. On completion of this work she was unable to return to the Soviet Union and was separated from her family, although she retained her Soviet citizenship until the Nazi occupation forced her to abandon it in order to gain a Nansen passport. In 1947 she was granted French citizenship and was able to bring two of her children to Paris but was unable to meet the rest of her family until the so-called Khrushchev Thaw. In 1960 she was reunited with her daughter, now an artist at the Moscow Art Theatre. Her daughter was able to help arrange a series of major exhibitions in Moscow, Leningrad and Kyiv, which took place in 1966. The success of these established Serebryakova’s reputation in her homeland after half a life in exile. She died in 1968.

I chose to show, as openings in the book display, several paintings from Serebryakova’s earlier work. On the Terrace in Kharkov (1919) shows a peaceful family scene, with the strong use of blue and yellow, emphasizing the theme of Ukraine. The below landscapes of Ukrainian countryside, with sunflowers, rolling plains, and Crimean hills offering a counterpoint to the images of devastation we have seen since the invasion.

 

 

Contrasting with with Serebryakova’s peaceful landscapes, the paintings of David Burliuk have the unstable energy typical of Futurism. Born in Riabushky, part of the Kharkov Governorate, Burliuk’s family was a mixture of Ukrainian Cossacks with a Belarussian mother. His portrait of fellow futurist Vasily Kamensky draws on the Byzantine tradition of icon painting normally used to depict the divine serenity of saints, an effect undermined by the clash of colours and almost vibrating shapes. The painting Dnieper Rapids is barely recognisable as a landscape, the land and sky merging into broken reds. Burliuk’s early life was a flurry of travel through Russia and Europe and a string of movements and manifestos. After the end of the Bolsheviks’ initial tolerance for dissent by prominent figures on the left he was forced to flee via Japan, eventually settling on Long Island, New York.  Despite persistent campaigning he was refused permission to revisit the USSR until the Khrushchev years.

The revival of interest in Soviet avant-garde movements following the Khrushchev Thaw notwithstanding, the art markets of the West had only an outside view of the influences prevalent in their creation. In his above-mentioned essay, Konstantin Akinsha quotes Oleh Ilnytzkyz, an early proponent of Ukranian Futurism: “The goal is not to place a new ‘Ukrainian’ straitjacket on cultural activities in the empire, but to find a way to do justice to the variety of sources and the myriad of cultural influences that flowed from so many directions. The recognition of Burliuk, [Aleksandra] Ekster and [Kazimir] Malevich as Ukrainians does not diminish their relevance for either the imperial (transnational) avant-garde or for strictly Russian culture, where their impact is undeniable.”

 

 

In a similar attempt to recognise cultural specificity, the National Gallery recently renamed its Degas pastel drawing formally known as Russian Dancers to Ukrainian Dancers.

A brief section titled ‘Note on Transliteration’ (p. 8) in the publication In the eye of the storm: modernism in Ukraine, 1900-1930s (2022) – often used as a resource for this display – discusses one of the issues encountered when discussing Ukraine and its culture. While recognizing the complex identities of artists from this period and area, the project shows that the individuals discussed belong to the narrative of Ukrainian art history. The editors have therefore favoured the transliteration of Ukrainian versions of artists names, except for emigrés with previously well-established reputations in the West. While using various sources to research this book display I found the question of whether to use the Russian or Ukrainian versions of names and places increasingly problematic. Although current resources tend to use Ukrainian names, many/most printed materials, especially those published before the break-up of the USSR, use Russian versions. Many artists themselves may have used Russian versions, including in place names and titles of their works. Unwilling to impose a choice I largely stayed with the version used in the source material I was discussing. The modern history of Ukraine and its relationship with Russia has itself led to several linguistic variations. In contrast with Imperial Russia’ imposition of ‘Russification’ on its provinces, Lenin supported korenizatsiia (nativization), a policy encouraging indigenous cultures and languages as a means of increasing support for the Bolsheviks beyond Russia itself. This policy was abruptly brought to an end by Stalin, whose purges destroyed symbols of Ukrainian culture such as the Kobzars (travelling singers) and had so effective an impact on Ukrainian artists that they became known as the “The Executed Renaissance”.

Alexander Osmekin, Profile and Flowers (1946)

Although later policies were less harsh, the Soviet regime still used imprisonment and censorship as tools to suppress potential dissent. Under these conditions conformity to approved approaches such as ‘Socialist Realism’ became a necessity for many artists, with even coded references such as colour or national symbols risking censure.

 

Mykhailo Boychuk. Portrait of a Woman. 1909. Lviv National Art Gallery

Like Burliuk, several other artists’ work was influenced by Byzantine icon painting and nativist art. An example is the poignant,  folk art-inspired Portrait of a Woman by Mykhailo Boychuk who, in 1936, along with two of his students and four months later his wife, was executed by the NKVD.  Boychuk’s work, described by his killers as ‘bourgeois nationalism’ and largely destroyed, was an influence on the later artist and regime opponent Alla Horska, who was herself killed by the KGB in 1970. Much of the work of both of these artists, often in the form of murals, mosaics and other large public works drawing upon Byzantine sources, was destroyed by the Soviet authorities, with some of the work only surviving in preliminary sketches or photographs. Others were preserved by fellow artists and archivists, such as Yaroslava Muzyka, who kept most of the paintings Boychuk left in Lviv after he was forced to abandon them.

 

Alla Horska. Sketch for a mosaique. 1960(?)

In my attempt to select publications and show artists’ works for the display, and also learn of the fates – exile, appropriation, suppression or attempts to erase from history – of the works and their creators it became impossible not to admire the resilience of people currently struggling to preserve themselves as a nation, however varied. One of the claims put out by the Kremlin, was that Russia and Ukraine are one people separated by a Western coup, thus justifying a ‘special military operation’ to reunite them. Author Andrey Kurkov’s Ukraine diaries, detailing his experiences in Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square) in Kyiv, as he and others struggled to resist the 2014 attempt to permanently bind Ukraine to Russian vassalage, was also an inspiration for the display. The PEN Ukraine book Treasures of Ukraine, for which Kurkov wrote the foreword, was similarly invaluable in providing a cultural history and a guide to more contemporary work.

The following gallery and list of publications on display can show only a small section of the Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library’s collection of material celebrating Ukraine.

Gallery

 

 

Publications on display

Aĭvazovskiĭ, Ivan Konstantinovich. 2011. Aiwasowski : Maler des Meeres / herausgeg Ostfildern : Hatje Cantz

Akinsha, Konstantin. Denysova, Katia. Kashuba-Volvach, Olena. 2022. In the eye of the storm : modernism in Ukraine, 1900-1930s. London : Thames and Hudson

Balashova, Olha [editor-in-chief]. 2021. The art of Ukrainian sixties. Kyiv : Osnovy Publishing

Delaunay, Sonia, 2014, Sonia Delaunay. London

Grushevskiĭ, Mikhai. 1913. Illi͡ustrirovannai͡a istorīi͡a ukrainskago naroda. vyp. 1.  S.-Peterburg : Tip. T-va “Ekateringofsk. Pechatnoe Di͡elo

Grushevskiĭ, Mikhail. 1997 Illi͡ustrirovannai͡a istorii͡a Ukrainy. Kiev : MPP “Levada

Hnatenko, Stefania. 1989. Treasures of early Ukrainian art : religious art of the 16th- 18th centuries New York : Ukrainian Museum

Kadan, Nikita, 2022. Project

Artforum international. v.60: no.8(2022: Apr.)

Kruglov, Vladimir, 2004. Zinaida Evgenʹevna Serebri͡akova = Zinaida Serebryakova

St. Petersburg

Kurkov, Andrey. 2014. Ukrainian diaries: dispatches from Kiev. London : Harvill Secker

Marko, Olya [Editor] 1991.  Spirit of Ukraine : 500 years of painting : selections from the State Museum of Ukrainian Art, Kiev : an exhibition organized by the Winnipeg Art Gallery in honour of the centenary of Ukrainian settlement in Canada. Winnipeg : Winnipeg Art Gallery

Monti, Matteo de. 2011. Colour moves : art and fashion by Sonia Delaunay London : Thames & Hudson

Morozov, A. I. (Aleksandr Ilʹich), 2007 Sot͡srealizm i realism Moskva : Galart

Mudrak, Myroslava M. “The Painted Surface in the Ukrainian Avant-garde: from Facture to Construction.”

Pantheon 45 (1987): 138–43. [München] : [Bruckmann]

Pensler, Alan. 2001. Abraham Manievich, Manchester : Yivo Institute for Jewish Research : Hudson Hills Press

Petrova, Yevgenia. [editor-in chief], 2001.  Abstraction in Russia, XX century

St. Petersburg,

Russian futurism : and David Burliuk, “The father of Russian Futurism”

Petrova, Yevgenia [editor-in-chief] 2008.  XX century in the Russian Museum: painting, sculpture 1900-2000 Sankt-Peterburg : Palace Editions, 2008.

Pucherová, Dobrota [editor-in-chief]. 2015. Postcolonial Europe? : essays on post-communist literatures and cultures  Part V: Between the East and the West: the colonial present — Ukrainian culture after communism: between post-colonial liberation and neo-colonial subjugation. Riabchuk, Mykola. Leiden : Brill Rodopi

Shulʹkevich, M. M. 1982. Kiev : arkhitekturno-istoricheskiĭ ocherk. Kiev : “Budivelʹnyk”

Teboul, David. 2011. I’ve been here once before. Boris Mikhailov interviewed by David Teboul. München : Hirmer

Surudz͡hiĭ, N.M. 2016. Pysanky nashykh babusʹ : zibranni͡a pysanok I͡Urii͡a Ferenchuka = Our grandmothers pysankas : pisankas collection of Yuiy Ferenchuk / avtor proektu ta upori͡adnyk. Chernivt͡si : Misto

Ukrains’kiĭ modernizm 1910-1930 = Ukrainian modernism. 2006, Kyiv : National Art Museum of Ukraine

Versari, Maria Elena (Curator), 2022 Archipenko and the Italian avant garde London : Estorick Foundation

 

Like @ SAC! Trans Day of Visibility 2023

Posted on by

From
LGBT+ History Month (February 2023)

To
International Transgender Day of Visibility

31 March 2023

 

Happy Trans Day of Visibility 2023! For this 31 March, our LGBT+ History Month book display has been rearranged to cast a spotlight on the trans artists included there. As part of this change, I have also added Trap Door: Trans Cultural Production and the Politics of Visibility (MIT Press, 2017), which features many and varied trans artists and theorists presenting interesting and nuanced arguments about the meanings and consequences of visible transness. This book is currently on display open to a page featuring artist, activist, and trans man, Reed Erickson. I thought the title for his self-portrait particularly appropriate for Trans Day of Visibility: I am fire, I am Wind, I AM BEING All that YOU IS SEEING.

I have also opened the volume Queer!? (Zwolle, 2019) to a page about the trans masculine Russian-Hungarian performance artist and painter, El Kazovsky; and, from Jonathan Weisberg’s Art after Stonewall: 1969-1989 (2019), I have centred an image of Marsha P. Johnson alongside a conversation about her between filmmaker, Sasha Wortzel and writer and trans activist, Tourmaline. While the relationship of drag performers like Marsha to transness is complicated – some identify as trans and some do not – their importance to trans movements cannot be denied, and their representation of fluid gender performance complements this theme.

Similarly, beginning in the 1970s, Nan Goldin, represented in this display through Nan Goldin, by Guido Costa (Phaidon, 2005), drew the attention of the art world to drag queens and transgender life. This book features on its cover her photograph Jimmy Paulette & Misty in a Taxi, NYC (1991) – just one of the many images she recorded of her drag queen friends.

Then, while explicit trans representation is extremely difficult to find in ancient history, I thought that the page entitled ‘A Gender Changing Goddess’ from Richard Parkinson’s A Little Gay History (2013) provides a concise introduction to ancient evidence for gender variance.

I hope that you too have enjoyed this brief look into trans representation in the collections at the Sackler Library!

Ashley Parry, Library Assistant
Sackler Library, Bodleian Libraries

Like @ SAC! LGBT+ History Month 2023

Posted on by

 

LGBT+ History Month 2023
‘Behind the Lens’ Book Display
by Ashley Parry

 

It’s February already! In the UK, this means that it’s LGBTQ+ History Month, which offers an occasion to acknowledge and celebrate the lives of lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans and queer people of all identities throughout the ages. At the Sackler Library, we are marking this month with a display to highlight LGBTQ+ related items in our collections. This year’s theme, Behind the Lens, marks LGBTQ+ people’s contribution to cinema and film not in front of the camera but behind it.

 

Sackler LGBTQ+ History Month Display

Behind the Lens book display, Sackler Library. Image Credit: Ashley Parry

Some of the publications included in the display: Berenice Abbott; Sunil Gupta’s Queer; Photography’s Orientalism; Robert Mapplethorpe; Outlaw Representation; Blatant Image, in Art After Stonewall. Image Credit: Ashley Parry

 

 

Through my research, I was drawn to the work of the trans artist, Wu Tsang, who uses dance and film to explore the theme of perspective in her work.Then, while Andy Warhol looms large over the history of queer art, this month has enabled me to highlight his films specifically. In fact, both Wu Tsang and Andy Warhol illustrate one of the key themes of this display – that LGBTQ+ artist-filmmakers not only question the boundaries between sexualities and genders, but also the boundaries between different forms of artistic expression.

Another artist whose work illustrates this is Derek Jarman (1942-1994), represented in the display by Derek Jarman: Brutal Beauty and also included in Caravaggio in Film and Literature: Popular Culture’s Appropriation of a Baroque Genius. Jarman is best known for his films but has also been very influential in his installation work, and he applied his knowledge of art and art history to his films in their composition and subject matter.

 

Book covers for Wu Tsang, Andy Warhol, Derel Jarman, and Laura Rorato

 

The anthologies on show in the display also illustrate the permeability of genre boundaries, where the work of artists who use film installation is represented alongside that of poets, photographers and fine artists.

 

 

For example, Sex Ecologies includes a diverse range of contributions, from photography by filmmaker Pedro Neves Marques to Léuli Eshrāghi’s discussions of Sāmoan sexual and gender diversity. The volume AIDS Riot contains interviews with filmmaker and “TV-guerrilla” Gregg Bordowitz, who “conceived of [‘video’] as the privileged instrument in the de-marginalization of PWAs [People With AIDS]”, alongside discussions of other installation, graphic design, and photographic work from artist collectives in the New York of the 1980s and 1990s. Similarly, in the book Outlaw Representation, Richard Meyer discusses the work of artist and filmmaker, David Wojnarowicz alongside other controversial figures such as photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. The potential for crossover between photography and film gave me the opportunity to include Mapplethorpe’s photographs with those of with those of other queer artists such as Berenice Abbot, and Sunil Gupta. In fact, it is Abbott’s image that has been used for the poster of this display.

 

(A note about the poster for this book display: The image of Berenice Abbott (1898-1991), with camera almost the same height as photographer, is a good fit with this year’s ‘Behind the Lens’ theme. Also aligning itself with the theme, the Courier typeface is typically used for screenplays. As for the text’s colours, I chose Valentino Vecchietti’s tones in his 2021 intersex-inclusive redesign for the Progress Pride Flag at the top of the poster, and the colours of Gilbert Baker’s original 1978 rainbow flag design at the bottom of the poster. Using these colour ranges incorporates as many queer identities as possible without privileging any in particular, while also paying tribute to the past 45 years of queer art history.)

 

The book Sexuality & Space creates a bridge between the film and photography related books in this display and other fascinating titles on queer theory and architectural criticism, such as Eileen Gray and the Design of Sapphic Modernity, and Queer Space: Architecture and Same-sex Desire. Another related publication, available as an ebook, that is well worth a look is Preservation and Place: Historic Preservation by and of LGBTQ Communities in the United States .

 

The display’s architecture section, including Sexuality & Space; Eileen Gray and the Design of Sapphic Modernity; Bachelors of a Different Sort; and Queer Space: Architecture and Same-Sex Desire. Image Credit: Ashley Parry.

 

Photo of cover of 'Sappho Is Burning' by Page duBois.

 

Although this year’s theme meant that most materials skewed towards the modern, it would be a disservice to the Sackler’s collections and the true diversity of historical experience to concentrate only on this era. For example, no overview of LGBTQ+ history would be complete without the Classical Greek poet Sappho, whose evocations of same-sex desire in her poetry led to the adjective ‘sapphic’ and whose home of Lesbos gives us the word ‘lesbian’. She is included in this display not only through a collection of her poems, but also through Page duBois’s post-modern analysis of her work in Sappho is Burning.

Representing our archaeology collections on the LGBTQ+ front, both L’homosexualité dans le Proche-Orient Ancien et la Bible and Sex and Gender in Ancient Egypt demonstrate the presence of individuals we might now consider queer in the Ancient Near East. The Queer Archaeologies special issue of the periodical World Archaeologies includes various perspectives on how the field can diversify its approach. One of the aspects of reading about LGBTQ+ interpretations of ancient history that I found enlightening is the way they challenge heteronormative cultural customs – questioning whether conclusions about ancient lives are backed up by evidence or based on imported modern assumptions.

 

 

Covers of LGBTQ+ Ancient History books.

 

One of the pioneers of treating the history of ancient art as a discipline was Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717-1768). This influential gay philologist is represented by several books in the display, such as Winckelmann – das göttliche Geschlecht and Gay and Lesbian Studies in Art History. Both of these texts examine the ways that Winckelmann’s sexuality informed his approach to the study of ancient art, and contributed to his innovative modes of writing about the subject.

Photo of James Ivory filming 'Maurice'.
James Ivory filming E. M. Forster’s Maurice in the Egyptian sculpture gallery at the British Museum in 1986. Maurice: © Merchant Ivory Productions; photograph by Natasha Grenfell.

Winckelmann’s work was brought to my attention by Richard Parkinson, author of A Little Gay History, who also kindly donated one of the images accompanying this display.It depicts a still from the set of the film adaptation of E. M. Forster’s Maurice, directed and produced by partners James Ivory and Ismail Merchant. Forster’s inspiration for the novel is also mentioned in the introduction to John Potvin’s Bachelors of a Different Sort as part of his evocations of queer masculine domestic life. The image serves to tie together some of the threads of the display, combining as it does the Egyptian artefacts in the British Museum with a behind-the-scenes look at the work of queer filmmakers.

There’s so much more fascinating material on LGBTQ+ related topics to discover throughout the Sackler Library’s collections, but only so much that could be fit into this display. However, I have included many more titles in the bibliography of this blog post – though, of course, I still have not included everything that the library has to offer!

 

Ashley Parry, Library Assistant
Sackler Library, Bodleian Libraries

 

Display List

Ackerman, S., 2005. When heroes love : the ambiguity of eros in the stories of Gilgamesh and David, New York.

 

Alvarado, L., Evans Frantz, D., Gómez-Barris, M., Ondine Chavovoya, C., et al., 2017, Axis mundo: queer networks in Chicano L.A., Munich.

 

Anthonissen, A., 2019. Queer!?: Beeldende kunst in Europa 1969-2019 = Visual arts in Europe 1969-2019, Zwolle.

 

Behdad, A. & Gartlan, L., 2013. Photography’s Orientalism: new essays on colonial representation, Los Angeles.

 

Betsky, A., 1997. Queer space: architecture and same-sex desire, New York.

 

Boehringer, S., 2021. Female homosexuality in ancient Greece and Rome, trans. Preger, A., London.

 

Cann, T., Kinigopoulo, A., Sawyer, D., & Weinburg, J., 2019, Art after Stonewall : 1969-1989, Columbus, OH.

 

Colomina, B., 1992. Sexuality & space, New York.

 

Cortjaens, W., Goerlitz, G., & Tobin, R. D., 2017. Winckelmann – Das göttliche Geschlecht Auswahlkatalog zur Ausstellung im Schwulen Museum Berlin, 16. Juni bis 9. Oktober 2017, Petersburg.

 

Davidson, J. N., 2007. The Greeks and Greek love: a radical reappraisal of homosexuality in ancient Greece, London.

 

Davis, W., 1994. Gay and lesbian studies in art history, New York.

 

Dowson, T. A., World Archaeology, Oct. 2000, Vol. 32 (2), ‘Queer Archaeologies’.

 

DuBois, P., 1995. Sappho is burning, Chicago.

 

Engel, C., Fenouillat, N., Guitton, A., Di Loreto, B., Loyau, F., Mestrov, I., & Olszewska, A., 2003. AIDS riot: collectifs d’artistes face au Sida = Artist collectives against AIDS, New York, 1987-1994: 12e session de l’École du Magasin, Grenoble.

 

Gilhuly, K., 2020. Erotic geographies in ancient Greek literature and culture, London.

 

Graves-Brown, C., 2008. Sex and gender in ancient Egypt: ‘don your wig for a joyful hour’, Swansea.

 

Gupta, S., 2011. Queer, Munich.

 

Hessler, S., 2021. Sex ecologies. Cambridge, MA.

 

Julien, I., 2008. Derek Jarman: brutal beauty. London.

 

Kuo, J. C., 2013. Contemporary Chinese Art and Film: Theory Applied and Resisted, Washington, D. C.

 

Mapplethorpe, R., Danto, A. C., Holborn, M., Levas, D., & Smith, P., 2020. Robert Mapplethorpe, London.

 

Meyer, R., 2003. Outlaw representation: censorship & homosexuality in twentieth-century American art, Boston.

 

Morelli, A., 2009. Roman Britain and classical deities: gender and sexuality in Roman art, Oxford.

 

Murphy, J. J., 2012. The black hole of the camera: the films of Andy Warhol, Berkely, CA.

 

Nardelli, J., 2007. Homosexuality and liminality in the Gilgameš and Samuel, Amsterdam.

 

Parkinson, R. B., 2013. A little gay history: desire and diversity across the world, London.

 

Potvin, J., 2014. Bachelors of a different sort : queer aesthetics, material culture and the modern interior in Britain, Manchester.

 

Rault, J., 2011. Eileen Gray and the design of sapphic modernity: staying in, Farnham.

 

Römer, T. & Bonjour, L., 2016. L’homosexualité dans le Proche-Orient ancien et la Bible,

 

Rorato, L., 2014. Caravaggio in film and literature: popular culture’s appropriation of a baroque genius, London.