WHITE AND RED MONASTERIES AND AKHMIM

Today we explored the remnants of early monasticism with visits to the Red and White Monasteries. We began with the latter, which is nick-named for its white limestone composition largely created from the remains of ancient Egyptian temples. Its official name is the Church of Saint Shenoute.

The monastery boasts a sloping front with wave-like cornices and a traditional pylon like those we have seen at Hibis and Douche in the Valley: it is clearly modeled after older sacred buildings, and faint reliefs (some of them upside-down) can still be seen here and there. We sat in the courtyard of the monastery, which used to be the nave of a basilica when extra floors stood and a wooden divider sectioned the altar off from the rest of the building, while William gave us a run-down on Saint Shenoute and the Coptic Church. This was particularly interesting for me because I am interested in early Christian art and the development of the Church and its sects.

Shenoute was apparently a ruthless leader who took pleasure in controlling his nuns and monks with the use of corporal punishment. Most of these people bought into monasticism because they were poor and wanted a source of guaranteed food and housing; banishment was considered the worst punishment of all (ironic, since it would seem that one might want to escape the oppression brought upon him or her by Shenoute).

William explained the differences between the teachings of Saint Anthony and those of Pachomius: Anthony advocated monks’ seclusion for spiritual purity, while Pachomius, whom Shenoute followed, saw living in a close religious community as the best way to enforce the teachings of Christianity. We were also told that the Coptic Church is distinguished from other sects by its sanctification of Mary: Copts believe that Jesus was born divine, as opposed to becoming divine at the occasion of his baptism, which makes Mary the mother of a god of sorts.

When entering the church, we were asked to remove our shoes–clearly a spin-off of the Muslim practice of removing one’s footwear before prayer. The sanctuary is arranged like that of a Greek Orthodox church, with red rugs and high, domed ceilings. Rows of modern Coptic icons, with faces composed of flat layers, gold backgrounds and names beneath them (to legitimize the saints depicted through the use of text, as with old Cypriot icons bearing the initials IC XC next to Jesus), sit atop a wooden chancel wall.

The chapel is in use again, spawning a series of new archaeological excavations on site. The monastery will likely provide some interesting details about early monastic architectural foundations in the future, but until then, it’s simply a nice old building (I say this in anticipation of my thoughts on the spectacular Red Monastery).

Cool things I learned while at the White Monastery:

• Under Muslim rule, Jews wore yellow turbans, and Christians wore blue turbans.
• Cyril was one of Shenoute’s patrons.
• The garden next door to the monastery caused the back wall to cave in when it was watered.
• There was strict control over food rations at this site! Was Shenoute a crazy dietitian?
• Coptic was used for record-keeping and to translate the Bible from Greek until Shenoute helped make it a literary language.
• The current Coptic pope is named Shenoute!
• An ostrich egg is hung over some Coptic sanctuary doors.

——————————————

The Red Monastery is staffed by a lovely man and his family, who have a quaint little snack stand just before the entrance. The structure looks very plain and aged next to the bright tapestry covering the stand, but the inside is simply marvelous.

An intricately-carved stone lintel, original as far as I could tell, sits at the top of the door. Walking inside, one can see three large half-domes above several stories of carved imitation balconies, with elaborate hoods on window-like niches. The Red Monastery is the epitome of my interest in Christian art: on the walls are two centuries’ worth of paint layers depicting saints, floral motifs and geometric patterns originating in the 6th century.

The site is being restored by none other than the wonderful Italian team working at Luxor Temple (it’s actually a school, the Moras’ school). Here, small test-cleaning “windows” are visible, as well as a clear line about three feet above the floor separating the immaculate stories above from the gritty, blackened walls below (this soot is called “dirty water” in the conservation trade). The clean paint is so vibrant that it looks brand new. Places where older stages of painting are visible underneath newer layers are, to the conservators’ credit, so well blended that the layers look almost natural in their fragmentary states.

My time in the Small Finds Room with Angela and Mohammad got me intrigued about restoration, to the point where I’m actually considering pursuing a degree in conservation for my Master’s. Studying under the Moras might be a possibility for me in the future, as I certainly appreciate their work and applaud their techniques.

Perhaps one of the most genius techniques they’ve employed at the Red Monastery and elsewhere is to mix colors from preserved paint with grey plaster, so the empty spaces between the remaining artwork compliment–and don’t overshadow–the images. The stages of paint exposed at the Monastery blend so flawlessly together next to this plaster, and I feel like nothing is lost with their treatment of the paint. In addition to leaving the ground level partially unclean, the arch on the far right of the entrance has also been left as it was. My guess is that they’re getting set to work on it next, when their campaign resumes in three days’ time (I wish I could be there to see it!).

It was funny to see a fully-stocked conservator’s workroom in a corner of the church, surrounded by light wood scaffolding. They hung a sign listing their inventory in Italian, and a woven image of Jesus and Mary on the wall. Boxes of Dasani and long extension cords reminded me of the Small Finds Room in Dakhleh.

The team is apparently working to stop local people from using the church, so the paintings don’t incur any more damage. The reason why they’re allowed to work (and why we were allowed in) is because the altar board is not in its place. The chapel isn’t at risk for disturbance by tourists, both fortunately and unfortunately, because of the apparent contempt people seem to have for red brick; they flock to the worser-preserved White Monastery instead. William believes that once the conservation campaign is finished, the Red Monastery will be a popular tourist attraction for its fantastic artwork.

The art itself reminds me a lot of Cypriot church art from the same period, where saints with long faces are painted with raised hands and blank stares. The colors on these saints are very similar to those I saw last summer–lots of reds, yellows and dull greens–but the colors used to paint the patterns on faux-marble columns and hooded niches are incredibly bright, in pinks and golden yellows. Marquees of legitimizing text, like in Cyprus and at the White Monastery, are painted either below the paintings or on each side of the figures within them.

I really, really, really loved the Red Monastery. I think it’s my favorite place in Egypt so far.

——————————————

On the road to Minya, we stopped at Akhmim, a new site where a large statue (8 meters high) of Rameses II’s daughter, Merit-Amun, was uncovered. Strange round brick structures surround the statue, and a cache of the SCA’s neglected materials, including blocks from Tel el-Amarna, sit in the back corner under an awning. An altar or statue base with a Greek inscription on it seemed a little out of place. The whole site was out of context and very poorly organized; I kind of wish we had had a lecture on it or something, because I really didn’t know what a lot of its elements were.