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Vitreous Materials
in the
Late Bronze Age Aegean

Edited by
Caroline M. Jackson and Emma C. Wager

SHEFFIELD STUDIES IN
AEGEAN ARCHAEOLOGY

© Oxbow Books 2008

ISBN 978-1-84217-261-2
 iii

Contents

Abbreviations vii
List of Contributors viii
Chronological Chart – JACKE PHILLIPS x

Introduction
CAROLINE M. JACKSON AND EMMA C. WAGER
Vitreous Materials in the Late Bronze Age Aegean: a Window to the
East Mediterranean xi

1. PAUL T. NICHOLSON
Glass and Faience Production Sites in New Kingdom Egypt: a Review
of the Evidence 1

2. THILO REHREN AND EDGAR B. PUSCH

Crushed Rock and Molten Salt? Some Aspects of the Primary Glass
Production at Qantir/Pi-Ramesse 14

3. MARINA PANAGIOTAKI
The Technological Development of Aegean Vitreous Materials in the
Bronze Age 34

4. GEORG NIGHTINGALE
Tiny, Fragile, Common, Precious. Mycenaean Glass and Faience Beads
and Other Objects 64

5. MICHAEL TITE, ANDREW SHORTLAND, GARETH HATTON, YANNIS MANIATIS,

DESPINA KAVOUSSANAKI, MATHILDA PYRLI AND MARINA PANAGIOTAKI
The Scientific Examination of Aegean Vitreous Materials – Problems
and Potential 105

6. HELEN HUGHES-BROCK
Close Encounters of Interesting Kinds. Relief Beads and Glass Seals:
Design and Craftsmen 126

7. JOHN BENNET
Palace™: Speculations on Palatial Production in Mycenaean Greece
with (Some) Reference to Glass 151
iv Contents

8. KAREN POLINGER FOSTER

Minoan Faience Revisited 173

9. MARK PETERS
Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete: Exploring Social
and Technological Relationships 187

10. SUSAN SHERRATT

Vitreous Materials in the Bronze and Early Iron Ages: Some
Questions of Values 209

Colour plates 233

 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 187

Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age

Crete: Exploring Social and Technological
Relationships

Mark Peters

Introduction
In a conference whose theme was specifically directed towards the study of
vitreous materials and technology, a discussion of the use and symbolism of
colour in Bronze Age Crete, predominantly derived from the context of fresco
compositions, may seem somewhat out of place. Yet, despite vitreous materials
playing only a small part in this paper, the observations and conclusions drawn
concerning the social significance and symbolism of colour in this context are
equally applicable to studies of faience and glass. For, as I hope to show, the use
of specific colours was embedded within a complex interrelationship of colour
perception, symbolism and technology. Significantly, the technological asso-
ciations are not confined simply to those of colour production or the particular
material expression, but to technologies of wider social concern. Indeed, as many
of the Round Table contributors stressed, there is a growing realization that strong
cross-craft connections existed in the prehistoric societies of the Mediterranean.
As other papers in this volume demonstrate, detailed studies of materials such as
faience and their related production processes have amply demonstrated the
need to break down the inherent rigidity of analytical and interpretive categories
within archaeological studies. This contribution follows in a similar vein, in which
complementary studies of apparently widely differing materials and technologies,
I hope to show, provide the means by which a clearer understanding of the
perception, understanding and use of colour in the Minoan world can be achieved.

Exploring the Role of Colour and Colour Theory

The basis of much of the current archaeological interest in colour derives from the
seminal work of Brent Berlin and Paul Kay (1969), in which the linguistic
development of colour terminology was examined among different language
188 Mark Peters

groups. A study of the perception and articulation of colours among 20 different

native language groups of North America was conducted in a volunteer
programme in which the participants, after providing a verbal list of their colour
terms, were asked to indicate using a constructed Munsell chart the colours that
would be described by a particular term and in addition to identify the most
typical variants of that colour. The data derived from this study were subsequently
augmented by the incorporation of 78 documented language groups, including
ancient languages such as Homeric Greek. The results of this study suggested
that there was a universal categorization of colour with a total inventory of 11
basic colours, and that any given society may not utilize the entire range in their
lexicon. In such instances, where not all colours were represented, it was suggested
that categorization would follow strict rules such that in the case of only three
colour terms being used, these colours would be black, white and red. Similarly,
in a situation where five terms existed, the basic elements of white, black and red
would be supplemented by yellow and green. In essence, Berlin and Kay were
arguing for an evolutionary development of the colour lexicon, in which the
development of colour terms starts with a basic opposition of black and white
and moves through a maximum of a further six stages (Figure 9.1). Perhaps
controversially, these conclusions also led to the proposition that the status of
colour terminology within a given social group could be related directly to the
level of social complexity within that group. So that, in effect, a social group at
stage I or II using two or three colour terms could be regarded as simple, while
one utilizing all 11 basic colours (stage VII) would be a complex, industrial society
(Berlin and Kay 1969: 16–17).
These conclusions have had significant implications for researchers in many
disciplines and in recent years have been taken up with some gusto by
archaeologists. This clearly evolutionary paradigm has dominated the subsequent
discussions of colour perception and use, although not without modification (e.g.
Kay and McDaniel 1978; see also Chapman 2002: 45–53), or criticism (e.g. Jameson
and D’Andrade 1997; Jones and MacGregor 2002; Sahlins 1976). As a result, much
of this later work has tended to steer clear of the fundamental assertions of the
Berlin and Kay paradigm and focus instead on the meaning and symbolic use of
certain colours in particular contexts. It has, for example, been fashionable to
examine colour in architectural terms through the apparently deliberate selection
of particular coloured stones for use in monumental constructions such as the
megalithic structures of the British Neolithic and Bronze Age (Burl 2000: 225;
Jones and Bradley 1999; Lynch 1998). As has been observed, these selections are
not necessarily practically based but are evidence that ‘colour could be used in a
detailed and deliberate way, the product of careful planning’ (Lynch 1998: 63).
Similarly, in Egypt studies have been made concerning the selection and use of
red, black and white stones in the construction of temples and mortuary
complexes, and the symbolic associations that were brought to bear in their
incorporation within these structures (Spence 1999). These studies not only
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 189

indicate that colour was not necessarily chosen on purely aesthetic grounds but
on careful consideration of symbolic associations, and that placement was
deliberately planned as part of the structuring of space. These structuralist
analyses are clearly of some value, and are also relevant to analyses of Aegean
architecture and the construction, manipulation and understanding of social space
(Palyvou 2000). However, they explore only one facet of colour perception and
use, and the essential problem remains as to how to apply successfully the
paradigmatic concepts of the Berlin and Kay model in archaeologically docu-
mented case studies.
Most recently, a number of scholars have sought to examine the nature of
colour perception within the social arena and how it may be used in the
maintenance or renegotiation of relationships (e.g. Allison 2002; Chapman 2002;
Cooney 2002). The emphasis here has been to recognize that there exists an active
and bilateral communication between individuals and material culture and that
‘the material nature of colour has an affect upon the perception and deployment
of colour socially’ (Jones and MacGregor 2002: 3). After all, the way we make
sense of the world we live in is literally through our senses. Our ability to visualize
is part of an active, physiological and psychological ability to interact with and
understand the world around us (Gosden 2001). Colour is a fundamental aspect
of our visual perception and represents one of the ‘structuring conditions’ (Barrett
2000: 65) defining the world we inhabit. Moreover, since all things in the world
are perceived as having colour, but a colour that need not be permanent in the
natural world or permanent in a cultural sense, we need to acknowledge that
colour can be an active, as well as passive, structuring condition. The natural
world, for example, constantly exhibits colour change through the days, weeks
and seasons, with the colours of entire landscapes changing throughout the year.
The experiential engagement with such phenomena actively conditions cultural
associations with colour so that, for example, environmental colours can become
indicators of an impending harvest. Culturally, the use of pigments, paints, dyes
and other materials in a process of transformation changes the character and the
understanding of objects. It imbues an individual with control over their
environment and provides a means by which to communicate such control.
Indeed, at an extreme this application of colour can be seen as emphasising
control over the natural world. While nature determines that the green landscape
of Crete turns barren and brown in the late summer months, the depiction of
trees, flowers and foliage through paint is not subject to this control, only to the
vagaries of pigment deterioration. Colour can act passively too at a purely
aesthetic level and be appreciated for its inherent character and vibrancy; yet
even here it has the potential to become active in the transformation of individual
emotional states. Or colour can be active in a semiotic sense, providing signals
that inform or condition the actions of individuals. Thus the application of a
cosmetic colouring to an individual can be viewed as an active use of colour in
which the social relationship to that individual is altered. It can also be a symbolic
190 Mark Peters

tool, creating metaphorical relationships and reflecting other objects or substances,

as well as a linguistic tool in which the linguistic associations made with colours,
such as ‘blood red’, communicate complex ideas and principles; and it can be an
architectural structuring mechanism, separating and defining spatial components.
Therefore, in attempting to derive a model for colour use and evaluation, we
have to recognize that colour in cultural terms has a multi-dimensional existence
that can be described as either passive or active.
Although archaeological studies of colour use and symbolism have advanced
significantly in recent years, within the Aegean world such studies are com-
paratively rare, or have been approached only tentatively (e.g. Burke 1999; Gillis
1999), despite the plethora of archaeological data available. Conversely, colour
research in countries such as Egypt has been relatively extensive (e.g. Baines 1985;
El Goresy 2000; Ragai 1986; Spence 1999). This difference can partly be explained
by the scarcity of textual evidence from the Aegean. Indeed, the difficulties
presented by this have resulted in some despondency towards the subject:
‘Naturally the difficulties in determining a possible use of colour symbolism in
vanished pre- or proto-literate cultures such as Aegean Bronze Age are more or
less insurmountable’ (Gillis 1999: 290).
While the relative paucity of contemporary textual evidence from the Aegean
undoubtedly adds to the difficulty of such an enterprise, I do not believe that
progress is impossible. To an extent our inability to envisage a methodology
whereby such information may be extracted derives in no small part from the
central theoretical paradigm advanced by Berlin and Kay (1969). In addition, the
inevitable problems highlighted in many of the contributions to this volume
concerning terminology, both stylistic and technical, exacerbate the difficulties of
analysis and, indeed, there is no doubt that the subject of this paper is no less
fraught with such problems. How we perceive, conceptualize, define, categorize
and label colours is essentially culturally determined and embedded, and
therefore somewhat subjective.
Such concepts have been central to two studies particularly relevant to this
discussion. The key study by John Baines (1985) into the colour terminology of
ancient Egypt is crucial to addressing the problem of applying the Berlin and Kay
model to the Aegean. The significant advance made was the comparison between
linguistic colour terminology and classification, and the use of colour in the
material world. Essentially, by comparing the two, a fundamental discrepancy
between linguistic and material colour expression was defined. Whereas
linguistically Egypt from the Old Kingdom through to the later New Kingdom
could be assigned to stage IIIa of the Berlin and Kay model (Figure 9.1), the range
of paints in use could be assigned to a considerably more advanced stage, such
that in the Old Kingdom paint use could be equated to stage V. By the Middle
Kingdom, this had advanced to stage VI, and partially to stage VII by the New
Kingdom. This observation, that the conceptualization of colour in material
expression effectively leads linguistic expression (Baines 1985: 289), I suggest
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 191

Yellow
Pink
Black Green Purple
Red Blue Brown
White Yellow Orange
Grey
Green
I II IIIa/b IV V VI VII
Stages
Simple Complex
Societies Societies

Time

Figure 9.1. The evolution of colour terms according to the Berlin and Kay paradigm (after Berlin and Kay
1969: 4, fig. 2).

provides a means by which to explore themes of colour use and symbolism in the
Aegean world.
The relationship of materials, colours and linguistic expression has also been
highlighted in the context of colour categorization in early Greek. Using the
evidence of the Linear B tablets, Moonwomon (1994: 59) observed that a number
of terms in that colour lexicon name the source of a pigment, so that once again
we can see a correlation between material properties and the conceptualization of
colours. In addition, this study reinforces the problem inherent in the original
paradigm, in that within the extant Linear B lexicon there exist terms for grey and
purple, both stage VII terms, yet three of the intervening colour terms, yellow,
green and brown, do not apparently exist. Moreover, if the slightly problematic
term ku-wa-no (kyanos) is interpreted as a strictly material descriptor, rather than
the oft-implied colour blue, then Linear B in effect has no terms corresponding to
stages III, IV, V or VI.
Despite the criticisms that can be levelled against the Berlin and Kay
paradigm, it nevertheless continues to dominate both theoretical discourse and
the construction of methodologies of analysis in both archaeology and other
disciplines. Moreover, the 11 basic colour terms that they suggested do provide a
useful frame of reference against which colour research can be compared and
contrasted without necessarily imposing upon us the evolutionary, cultural or
cognitive ‘baggage’ that the original study proposed (Jones and MacGregor 2002:
6). It therefore seems entirely appropriate in the context of an exploratory foray
into the Bronze Age Cretan ‘world of colour’ to maintain and mirror those 11
basic colour terms in the construction of the data sets to be discussed here. At this
early stage of investigation, the complexity of discriminating for colour hues,
192 Mark Peters

brightness or contrasts is deemed inappropriate without a more thorough,

contextual approach to the analysis. Hence I am concerned here with observing
broad diachronic trends in colour use and identifying whether the discrimination
or favouring of certain colours can be shown to exist, and to attempt an
explanation of why that should be.

Colour Use in Minoan Frescoes

The magnificent fresco remains from Minoan Crete, predominantly those from
the Palace of Knossos, are the main line of evidence that I shall use. These have
justifiably commanded a great deal of attention since their discovery and have
generated numerous studies concerning composition, artistic technique, technical
attributes and so on (e.g. Cameron et al. 1977; Hood 1978: 48–77, 83–87; Immerwahr
1990: 39–99). Yet, while the analysis of fresco pigments has developed rapidly in
recent years, observations concerning the basic colour palette remain somewhat
simplistic. This is perhaps not surprising given that, within the entire known
corpus of fresco fragments, all of the basic colours identified by Berlin and Kay
are represented to some degree. Nonetheless, it is clear that certain colours are
favoured in the execution of a vast array of designs, while others, despite their
relative ease of production, are under-represented.
Painted plaster as a means of wall and floor decoration first appears in Crete
during the later phases of the Neolithic and more widely in the Early Bronze Age.
Simple monochrome decoration has been recognized from the Final Neolithic
phase at Phaistos (Immerwahr 1990: 21–22), for example, and at the Early Bronze
Age sites of Vasiliki (Heaton 1911: 698, 705), Knossos and Myrtos-Fournou Korifi
(Blakolmer 2000: 396; Warren 1972). While the use of these paints can be seen as
functionally expedient in terms of sealing the plaster base (Heaton 1911: 705;
Hood 1978: 48; Immerwahr 1990: 11), its significance would seem to extend far
beyond this. Moreover, the identification of multiple layers of paint applied to
the surface of several fragments of wall plaster from Myrtos indicating re-
decoration implies that the maintenance of the colour was a fundamental concern.
Indeed, these early forms of decoration consistently make use of a red or red-
brown pigment derived from the natural earth of Crete, yet other colours, similarly
easy to produce and use, are less apparent in the archaeological record. The
symbolic importance of red has long been recognized in later cult contexts (Gesell
1985: 35), and it is likely even in these early contexts to have a social significance
beyond any practical benefits.
It is with the emergence of the palaces, however, that we see the widespread
use of polychrome wall decoration, in the form of the painted frescoes. The earliest
forms tend to be abstract or geometric designs, with the more intricate pictorial,
and especially figurative, compositions largely appearing in the Neopalatial
period (Immerwahr 1990: 50, 160). One exception is the ‘Saffron Gatherer’ fresco
at Knossos, which has been suggested as dating to as early as MMIIIA (Hood
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 193

2000: 198), although this remains controversial. Yet the most colourful of these
designs are not necessarily associated with the palaces themselves. One of the
most extensive colour palettes used is seen in the so-called ‘Partridge Frieze’
from the House of the Caravanserai, south of the Palace of Knossos (Evans 1928:
103–39, frontispiece). Dating to LMIB (Immerwahr 1990: 174), this remarkable
fresco makes use of eight of the 11 basic colours specified in the Berlin and Kay
colour scheme, including green, brown and orange, with only pink, purple and
grey not used. In this respect, this fresco is extremely unusual. The majority of
other known frescoes of the period rarely incorporate such an extended palette
and certain colours, such as green, are more usually absent.
The extensive research into the chronology of these frescoes (e.g. Hood 2000;
Immerwahr 1990: 170–79) allows us to examine diachronic changes in the colour
palette which, as I hope to show, reveal that significant modifications took place
during the Protopalatial to Neopalatial periods and into the Final Palatial period.
My methodology looks only at the basic palette of colours in use, with little
attention given to fresco typology or context. Nevertheless, it does provide a
means by which to see broad patterns in the frequency of colour usage over time.
I should also mention at this point that no distinction has been made concerning
the extent of colour use within a composition except where applicable to the
background colour. So, for example, black appears on a number of frescoes but
may only be present as the outlining to part of the composition rather than as a
block colour. Nevertheless, the presence of this colour reflects knowledge of both
its manufacture and use within a particular chronological phase. Similarly, the
categorization of colours does not distinguish between the compositions of the
pigments used but simply describes the effects that were achieved. In other words,
where green may be present in a composition, this does not equate to the use of
a specific green pigment such as malachite, but may be the result of having mixed
blue and yellow paints. This compromise would seem appropriate given that this
study is concerned with the perceptions and social significance of colour rather
than the technical aspects of pigment production.
The starting point for the data used here is the relatively extensive corpus of
frescoes from the Palace of Knossos, specifically the most comprehensively
documented examples in terms of colours and dates (Hood 2000; Immerwahr
1990: 170–79; Peters 2003: Appendix A, 63–66). Much of this material is poorly
preserved and of a very fragmentary nature. It is also not all well documented
and so care is needed in its use (Walberg 1986: 58). Despite these inevitable
problems, looking at the changing frequency of colour use in the frescoes (Figure
9.2), we can see that even in the earliest group, the colour palette is extensive with
nine colour groups represented. Three of these, green, grey and orange, are minor
colours appearing in less than 30% of the frescoes. In the transition to the
Neopalatial period, however, the colour palette expands dramatically. We can
see, for example, that the use of brown increases, probably due in part to the
increased number of figurative compositions in which male skin tends to be
194 Mark Peters

coloured a red-brown to brown. Moreover, while the total number of colours in

use has dropped to seven, six of these appear in 40% or more of the frescoes. Of
particular interest, however, is the dramatic increase in the frequency of use of
blue. Although there is no doubt that its use was not uncommon in the Middle
Minoan period, during this transitional period of the Middle to Late Bronze Age
its presence more than doubles such that the dominant colours are now white,
red and blue. Indeed, it is these colours that are now used as the often dominant
background colours, whereas previously the background colours reflected the
dominant colours of black, white, red and yellow. This pattern is more or less
maintained until the Final Palatial period, when yellow once again comes to
prominence in the palette and the use of subtler colours such as pink and orange
increases. Significantly, the use of green is always minimal, a feature that I suggest
is of great significance.
It is perhaps not surprising that the range of colours in use in the Palace of
Knossos is so extensive given the status of the site and the visible investment in,
and centralization of, resources. It is, therefore, worth examining the same
characteristics in the context of a non-palatial site. Unfortunately, there are few
sites from which large numbers of well-dated frescoes have been recovered to
allow such a comparison. However, the excavations of the Unexplored Mansion
close to the Palace of Knossos do provide such information. In this multi-phase
building, numerous fresco fragments, ranging in date from MMIIIA1 through to
LMIIIA1, were recovered and subsequently analysed by Mark Cameron (1984).
The detailed recording of these allows a similar diachronic breakdown of the
colour palette to be constructed (Figure 9.3). As with the Knossos frescoes, the
fragmentary nature of the evidence renders absolute statements inappropriate
but certain broad patterns can still be identified.

Figure 9.2. The changing frequency of colour use in the Palace of Knossos frescoes (after Peters 2003).
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 195

Figure 9.3. The changing frequency of colour use in the Unexplored Mansion frescoes (after Peters 2003).

Again, one of the most striking observations concerns the use of blue.
Although we can see that in MMIII this colour is being used, it is through the
transition to the Late Minoan period that we see its use dramatically increase. It is
also at this time that brown and green first make an appearance, and although the
number of examples of these colours is small, they do show that the colour
palette employed in the Unexplored Mansion dramatically increased in the
Neopalatial period. This is similarly illustrated by the use of yellow and orange,
which peaks at the beginning of the Neopalatial period. So, we can see that in the
earliest MMIII phase the palette in total consists of six colours but is dominated
by three (white, red and black). This increases to seven in the transitional phase
MMIIIB–LMIA but here no one colour can really be said to be dominating the
palette. By LMIA, however, the palette has dramatically increased to nine colours
and, while red noticeably still dominates, yellows and blues have also become
dominant colours. In the Final Palatial period (LMII onwards), the nine-colour
palette continues but five colours now dominate (white, red, black, yellow and
blue), with four others in what may be described as a secondary role (orange,
brown, green and grey).
There are a number of issues that come out of this brief analysis, such as the
virtual absence of purple throughout the palatial period and the rarity of subtler
colours such as pink and orange. Inevitably these can, to an extent, be attributed
to problems associated with the identification and classification of such colours,
both from the perspective of post-depositional and preservation limitations as
well as the constraining effects of the ‘eye of the beholder’ in deciding to which
colour category an individual case should be assigned. In the first instance, pinks,
for example, can be mistaken for faded reds simply through the vagaries of time
and natural degradation of the pigments. Indeed, the tonal range of the fresco
colours is often hard to decipher and reds, pinks, browns, yellows and oranges
can merge into adjacent colour categories, particularly given the fugitive nature
196 Mark Peters

of some colours and the natural variation in the original application of the paint.
In a similar vein, events unconnected with the original intent of the painters have
distorted the picture available to us, as in the case of the frescoes from Tylissos,
which apparently afford rare examples of the use of purple. These were found to
be the result of fire damage from the conflagration that ended the life of the villa
rather than from the use of a purple pigment (Shaw 1972: 172). Such problems
were also identified and discussed by Mabel Lang (1969) in her analysis of the
Pylos frescoes. In many instances the original colours were significantly altered
with, for example, whites changed to blue, blues becoming green or purple, brown
becoming purple and yellow turned to brown (Lang 1969: 8–9, 39–43).
Clearly, such alterations can dramatically affect the perceived frequency of
use of certain colours and to an extent this problem will only be resolved through
pigment analyses. In the case of purple, no such analyses have been published for
the Cretan repertoire, but recent analyses of the Theran frescoes have definitively
identified a specifically purple pigment (Georg Nightingale, pers. comm.).
Nevertheless, this will only partially alleviate the problem for we also face the
difficulty of colour categorizations being made according to modern, western
concepts of colour as opposed to the understanding and perception of those
colours in the ancient world. Again, the case of purple illustrates this most clearly.
Ancient sources, such as the writings of Pliny, have helped to indicate that this
colour could in fact encompass an extremely wide range of colour hues and tones
ranging from reds through to blues and black (Barber 1991: 229–30, 313; Burke
1999: 77). Yet, we must also face the possibility that we are witnessing the product
of social restrictions at work. Purple, at least in the context of textiles, was a
highly significant colour, imbued with connotations of high social status (Barber
1999: 117; Burke 1999), and in the Linear B tablets it is possible that the colour
term ‘purple’ (Chadwick 1973: 321, 573) appears in one instance (KN X976) in
association with the term ‘royal’ (wa-na-ka-te-ro) (Burke 1999: 78, n. 16). If indeed
the use of purple in textiles was socially restricted to members of an elite, we
might expect pictorial representations using this colour to be similarly restricted,
at least in the context of representations of clothing in figurative compositions.
Given the extensive, if fragmentary, corpus of fresco remains on Crete and the
lack of any definitive examples of purple, I suggest that this latter explanation is
most likely.
While the issues surrounding colours such as purple are of considerable
importance, for the remainder of this contribution I would like to concentrate on
the two colours blue and green. I have already mentioned the significant increase
in the use of blue but the Knossian frescoes also reveal how green was used. It
would appear that this colour is common only to one group of frescoes: the
naturalistic class. In fact, as far as I have been able to determine, green paint
appears in only one other form and that is the single incidence of a figurative
fresco, the ‘Procession Fresco’ in the Palace of Knossos. This is, however, one of
the later frescoes, with the consensus of scholarly opinion placing it at least
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 197

within LMII (Hood 2000: 203–4; Immerwahr 1990: 174–75). This pattern also
appears to be generally repeated across the known corpus beyond the Palace of
Knossos. The well-known incidences in the ‘Lily Fresco’ at Amnissos and the
‘Partridge Frieze’ in the House of the Caravanserai are all naturalistic. Similarly,
the recent discoveries of frescoes at Archanes that also make use of green paints
are seemingly naturalistic compositions (Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki
1997: 494–97, figs 474, 480–82), although the fragmentary nature of these, and
indeed most other Minoan frescoes, suggests the need for some caution.
Nevertheless, the results of this brief survey do suggest that the previously widely-
held belief that green is a relatively common fresco colour (e.g. Sakellarakis and
Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997: 490) is misrepresentative. Overall it is a rare colour in
these compositions, a phenomenon also seen in the Theran wall paintings. It
cannot be denied that where it is used the effect is striking but nevertheless its
exclusion from the palette of colours associated with the majority of frescoes,
despite the relative ease of production, has led some to question this absence
(Cameron 1984: 149; Cameron et al. 1977: 159; Perdikatsis et al. 2000: 104), and it
therefore requires some explanation. Given this apparent avoidance of green as a
colour for paints and artificial pigments, I would like briefly to consider other
areas of material culture to establish whether there is a general avoidance of this
colour or whether more complex social rules are at work.

Colour in the Craft of the Lapidary and the Potter

Although it is clear from this brief survey of the Minoan frescoes that certain
colours such as green and also grey are poorly represented, there are other forms
of artefacts in which these colours dominate. This is especially true of stone vases
where, particularly in the early periods of production, green and grey stones
were favoured (Warren 1969: 142). Broadly, the colour palette (Figure 9.4) can be
viewed as being in opposition to that of the painted frescoes: while reds and
blues can be seen to be dominant colours in the frescoes, they are much rarer
colours in the art of the lapidary. We can see, for example, that shades of grey,
green, white and black account for more than 75% of the total assemblage of
stone vases. Yet I suggest that, as Table 9.1 indicates, this bias is unlikely to be
uniquely a function of the hardness of the materials being worked. All of the
basic colour groups are represented by a material with a hardness rating of 1–4
on the Mohs’ scale. This would indicate that vase colour was perceived differently
to the fresco colours and that specific colour groups were favoured in the
production of stone vases. Moreover, the selection of colours was clearly not
bound by the apparent restrictions of the fresco colour palette, which I would
suggest reflects the distinction between transformational colour and natural,
inherent colour. However, much more in-depth analysis is required than can be
afforded here. It may be, for example, that the more unusual colours, and indeed
materials, were being selected for very specific pieces for use in particular contexts.
198 Mark Peters

Figure 9.4. The range of colours used

in Minoan stone vases (after Peters
2003).

Hardness (% of colour category) Table 9.1. The colour and hardness of

Minoan stone vase materials; data
Colour % of 1-2 2-4 4-6 6+
derived from Warren (1969) (after
Category Total (Mohs') (Mohs') (Mohs') (Mohs')
Peters 2003).
White 15.2 10.2 83.3 4.0 2.5
Black 14.3 - 89.9 - 10.1
Red 1.7 - 54.2 45.8 -
Green 17.5 2.9 96.7 - 0.4
Yellow 0.8 - 100 - -
Blue 12.1 - 100 - -
Brown 4.2 11.7 86.6 - 1.7
Pink 0.8 - 100 - -
Orange 2.3 - 100 - -
Purple 0.5 100 - - -
Grey 29.2 - 87.1 12.5 0.4
Undefined 1.4 - - - -

These patterns can similarly be compared to the decorative conventions of

Minoan ceramics. Despite the complexity of Minoan pottery classifications and
the huge corpus of material available for study, the situation with regard to
colour variation is relatively simple. Once again, while changes in the colour
palette from the Neolithic through to the Bronze Age are apparent, culminating in
the complex polychrome schemes of the Kamares style of pottery in the Middle
Minoan period, the colour palettes, in terms of the basic colour groups used in
examining the frescoes, are essentially very restricted. Alongside whites and
blacks, the Early Bronze Age palette is dominated by the earth-derived colours of
yellows, oranges, reds and browns. While these can in themselves provide
extremely colourful and complex designs, such as the mottled colours of the
Vasiliki Ware of EMII, the palettes relating to applied paints and slips nevertheless
remain restricted.
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 199

With the introduction of Kamares Ware, a brightly-coloured, polychrome

design, in the Middle Minoan period this situation changes radically. The colours
used include white, red, orange and yellow, with black providing the background
(Walberg 1987: 75). Blues and greens are by comparison more or less absent, with
the exception of some rare examples of blue (Vasilakis 2000: 113), and from the
area of the Mesara, purple has recently been found to be part of the palette of the
South Cretan polychrome wares (Peter Day, pers. comm.). However, the key
feature of these ceramic colour schemes remains the use of contrasting light and
dark decoration. Decorative schemes are constantly changing between light-on-
dark and dark-on-light and even during the Neopalatial period, when ceramic
decoration arguably reaches its highest quality in terms of decorative style, the
rapidly increasing colour palette seen in the frescoes is not replicated in ceramics.
While the decorative forms of the ‘Special Palatial Traditions’ of LMIB (Betancourt
1985: 140–48) appear to draw on the imagery of the frescoes, the colours used
remain within the earlier traditions, typically the earth colours of red-brown,
brown and black on a light background.
It has been convincingly argued that the Kamares pottery style provided the
impetus for the stylistic development of Middle Minoan frescoes (Blakolmer 1999;
Walberg 1986: 57–88) and indeed the colour palette is very similar. However, by
the end of the Protopalatial period this situation appears to change dramatically
at a time when the fresco palette seems to be expanding. Ceramic colours
conversely revert back to the more basic palette that preceded Kamares ware. I
suggest that colour expression has at this point passed from ceramics to the
frescoes and it is now they that are used to convey colour associations and
ultimately prestige. Indeed, by the Neopalatial period these colours are pre-
dominantly found in prestigious or socially-restricted contexts. With the
investment of colour now present in the frescoes, the emphasis on ceramic
decoration, potentially through restrictions placed on the use or availability of
particular pigments, moves from polychromatic design to the elaborate stylistic
designs and motifs that are the feature of the Late Minoan ‘Special Palatial
Tradition’.

The Evidence of Pigments

If colour use is invested with social significance as the previous discussion
suggests, then what form does this association take? Focusing on the apparently
contrasting colours of blue and green, I would like to consider how the pigment
compositions may suggest a significant symbolic association. The earliest
recovered examples of pigments in their raw material form from Crete consist of
two pieces of azurite and one of malachite from the earliest excavated levels of
Neolithic Knossos. Finds of yellow and red ochre were also reported from several
levels dateable to the Neolithic. The interpretation favoured was that the azurite
and malachite were examples of colouring materials rather than evidence of ores
200 Mark Peters

intended for copper production (Evans 1964: 146, 238). Unfortunately, beyond
these isolated examples there is little direct evidence for the range of pigment
materials that were being exploited at this time.
The evidence for the Early Bronze Age is similarly slight with, as previously
mentioned, the sites of Vasiliki and Myrtos-Fournou Korifi providing examples
of red ochre. Within Late Bronze Age contexts, however, the evidence is much
greater and includes direct evidence of pigment remains and the indirect evidence
of paint and pigment residues within ceramic vessels. In the case of pigment
remains, we can, for example, cite the excavations of the Neopalatial villa at
Tylissos where numerous colours were reported as being found (Hazzidakis 1934:
99–100). From the excavations of the Palace of Knossos, Sir Arthur Evans (1900–
1901: 92) noted the presence of ‘more than one deposit of colours…’, which he
associated with the artisans responsible for the painting of the frescoes. More
recently, red, yellow and blue pigments were discovered in Area 19 of the palatial
building at Archanes, and were interpreted as playing a role in the production of
textiles (Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1991: 57). In the case of indirect
evidence, paint residues of various colours have been found in conical cups from
the Temple Tomb at Knossos, Myrtos-Pyrgos, and the Zafer Papoura cemetery
(Evans 1905: 462; Gillis 1990: 42, 47–48, 99–100). Nevertheless, despite these and
other examples (Peters 2003: Appendix A) the Cretan evidence is relatively slight.
If we look beyond the shores of Crete, however, the evidence is much greater.
From the Cyclades, numerous examples of pigments have been discovered in
Early Cycladic grave contexts as discrete lumps of pigment, sprinkled powders
or contained pigments. By far the most common are the earth-derived colours of
red and yellow but there are also numerous examples of blue pigment, most
commonly identified as azurite. Generally interpreted as cosmetic colourings,
many examples have been found contained within bone tubes, such as those from
tombs in the Chalandriani cemetery on Syros (Doumas 1977: 129) and from Naxos
(Televantou 1990: 57, plate 16). In a similar fashion, blue powder, thought to be
azurite, was found in a series of miniature vases in the Louros grave on Naxos
and blue colouring is likewise reported to have been found sprinkled over the
bodies and floor of two graves at Aplomata, also on Naxos (Getz-Preziosi 1987:
54).
Yet while blue pigments appear to be significant inclusions in these grave
assemblages, green pigments are extremely rare. Notable exceptions include an
Early Cycladic folded-arm figurine, of unknown provenance, which has green-
painted decoration at the base of the neck, and a marble bowl with traces of green
pigment from Tomb 354 of the Chalandriani cemetery (Hendrix 2003: 425, 436).
But both azurite and malachite, a potential source for green pigments, are found
as mineral-rich soils and surface ore deposits in the Aegean and more particularly
in the Cyclades (Doumas 1990: 161; Renfrew 1967: 12; 1972: 313) and on Crete,
where several sources are known including one of azurite adjacent to the
settlement of Myrtos-Fournou Korifi, and one of malachite in the Ayiofarango
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 201

(Branigan 1971; 1974: 57). Crucially, not only were these the basis for pigment
production but they also represented a source of exploitable copper ore for the
early metallurgists. I suggest that it is this relationship between the raw materials
of early copper and bronze technology and the production of pigments that lies at
the heart of this discussion.
When we examine the evidence from the Middle and Late Bronze Age, this
link between metallurgy and pigment production, while undoubtedly changing
its form, appears stronger. Analysis of the composition of fresco pigments has
shown that for the Knossian examples, blue was found to be obtained either
through the use of the iron-rich mineral riebeckite or copper-rich Egyptian blue,
or through a combination of the two, with the combination appearing to be the
most abundant form (Cameron et al. 1977). This has prompted the suggestion that
the mixing of local sources of pigment with Egyptian blue reflects a desire to
conserve a potentially limited and valued resource (Cameron et al. 1977: 158;
Filippakis 1978: 601). Indeed, similar patterns have been identified in analyses of
the Theran fresco pigments (Filippakis 1978: 601, table 1; Perdikatsis et al. 2000:
113–14).
The use of Egyptian blue is significant both in terms of the incorporation of a
valued substance as well as for maintaining the proposition that blue is
symbolically linked to metallurgy. Although the preferred colouring agent appears
to change from ground azurite to ground Egyptian blue, the ultimate source of
the colour remains copper, whether this was derived from a mineral such as
malachite or, more intriguingly, from the use of bronze scale. The latter is intrigu-
ing because of the identification of blue fresco samples from the Royal Road
excavations at Knossos that contain trace amounts of tin and which broadly
coincide chronologically with the increase in the use of blue in frescoes (Cameron
et al. 1977: 141, table 6). Whether the tin is present as a result of the use of
Egyptian blue incorporating bronze scale as the colourant or whether it is a
contaminant from some other source is uncertain. However, of the 23 samples of
blue pigment analysed trace amounts of tin were identified only in three samples
of blue painted plaster and one of blue frit.
However, if the association of blue with metallurgy is suggested through the
choice of mineral colourant, then a similar association can be supposed to exist
for green, through the use of malachite. Yet malachite, identified by Noel Heaton
(1912: 216) in his analysis of the Tiryns ‘Shield Fresco’, has not been conclusively
identified as a pigment in the Cretan, or indeed the Theran, repertoires. Green
appears to be produced only by the mixing of blue and yellow paints. In only one
known instance was the colour apparently derived from an iron-rich mineral
(Cameron et al. 1977: 140, 159, table 6) and, as we have seen, while there is some
indication that the frequency of the use of green increases from the beginning of
the Neopalatial period, it remains a very minor player in the colour palette, in
marked contrast to the use of blue. So why, if the metallurgical association for
blue encourages its use, is green apparently avoided? I suggest that we can
202 Mark Peters

essentially dismiss any technical arguments since the few extant cases of green in
the fresco corpus shows that the method for its creation through the mixing of the
primary colours blue and yellow was known, and it is likely that the colouring
properties of malachite were also known, given the Neolithic evidence. Neither
can we put it down to a quirk of preservation deceiving us as to the true extent of
the use of green pigments. As has been observed in relation to faience and glass
as well as paints, the effects of corrosion on cupriferous blue colours will often
produce green (El Goresy 2000: 57, 63; Lee and Quirke 2000: 110, 112). Indeed,
this specific effect was noted in the examination of the fresco remains from Pylos
where a blue pigment was found to have degraded, possibly through the effects
of water seepage, to produce a green colour (Lang 1969: 43). So, at least in this
respect, time and preservation should discriminate in favour of green in the
archaeological corpus.
Given the argument for a metallurgical link that I am suggesting, the
avoidance of green has then to be placed within this relationship. I propose that
the answer may be found in the corrosion product of copper and bronze: verdigris.
In the initial stages of metallurgy, we can imagine that the corrosion of socially
prestigious materials such as copper and bronze would have been viewed with
some concern. Such a notion would reflect what John Chapman (2002: 51) has
described ‘the co-emergence of colour-and-things’ and the concept of symbolic
associations developed through material experiences. Here, the direct colour
association between this corrosion product and the potential colouring agent
malachite may have resulted in socially unacceptable connotations. The link that
I am suggesting is not quite as abstract as it at first seems. The process of creating
verdigris as a colouring agent in later periods is recorded both by Theophrastus
and Pliny. In the first instance, Theophrastus (1956: 57) describes how copper is
placed over the residues of grape pressings and the verdigris scraped off the
copper as it appears. Pliny (1952: NH 34.XXVI) records a similar process as well
as several other methods, with copper shavings added to vinegar suggested as
producing the quickest result. So, certainly in later periods, the use (or ‘destruc-
tion’) of copper in the production of green pigments was widespread and natural
– but copper and bronze had by then taken on a far different role in a society that
was now also actively engaged in iron technology. In the Minoan world it is
unlikely, given the importance of these metals, that such an activity would have
been socially acceptable and the colour itself could all too readily have been
associated with these destructive processes. As such, I would suggest that these
associations resulted in an almost diametric opposition in the social perception of
the blue and green colour groups, derived from the burgeoning exploitation of
copper ores in the Early and Middle Bronze Age.
Yet green, as I showed previously, is a common colour of choice in the
production of stone vases, and although it could be argued that this is simply a
function of other material characteristics such as the softness and hence the ease
of carving, the range of colours available in these soft stones would seem to
 Colour Use and Symbolism in Bronze Age Crete 203

discount this reason. Here I suggest that the difference can be found in the
distinction between colours of transformation and inherent, natural colours. The
metaphorical association of transforming an object through the application of a
product replicating the effects of copper corrosion is viewed as undesirable, while
the exploitation of a substance that is naturally coloured does not hold such
connotations; the colour has not been transformed through human intervention
and is not associated with the copper-producing minerals.

Summary and Conclusions

What I have attempted to demonstrate in this study is the enormous potential of
colour studies in the Bronze Age Aegean world and particularly Crete; yet this
represents only a tentative foray into what is a complex subject. Inevitably, this
study can be criticized for being somewhat speculative, but I have approached
this area with the simple aim of ‘speculating to accumulate’. Research into the
use, appreciation, symbolism and social values of colour in the Aegean are
conspicuous by their absence and I hope to generate some new lines of research
through this contribution. I have, for example, not approached the issues of colour
combinations both contrasting and complementary, nor the interplay of colour
and light particularly with regard to the use of colour in buildings. Similarly, the
tentative results that I have presented suggest that the technological associations
of colour cannot easily be studied in isolation. The neat categorization of artefacts
by material and technology within archaeology disguises a complex interplay of
symbolic associations. Thus, further illumination would be gained from incor-
porating the evidence available from faience and glass objects, jewellery,
sealstones and indeed the entire gamut of material left to us.
To summarize, I have argued that blue pigments have a symbolic association
with the technology of copper and bronze. Cupriferous minerals are seen to have
both a functional association with the production of a precious substance, copper,
and the production of a pigment. The transformation of these minerals through
the smelting process produces a material greatly prized, and similarly we see the
use of blue pigments in a transformative process creating prized assets such as
frescoes. In contrast, the transformation of a green mineral into paint and the
subsequent application of this substance can be seen as a metaphor not for the
creation of copper and bronze, but for the products of its decay and destruction.
In terms of both its derivation and symbolism it could therefore have been seen
as the antithesis of blue. Taking this theme further, it can be suggested that the
use of blue pigments is symbolically associated with positive transformations,
such as life and rebirth, and green with negative transformations of death and
decay. In this regard, it is interesting to note that blue colouring is often used in
the context of Minoan tombs, such as the painted ceiling of the ‘sepulchral
chamber’ of the Temple Tomb at Knossos, (Evans 1935: 975), on blue-painted
coffins and from the indication of blue-painted tomb floors (Cadogan 1976: 19;
204 Mark Peters

Hägg and Sieurin 1982: 181). Again, this is contrasted by the lack of evidence for
green paints or pigments in such contexts. This is in stark contrast to the Egyptian
evidence for colour association where both blue and green were associated with
notions of life, health and fertility (Friedman 1998: 15; Gillis 1990: 290; Ragai
1986: 76–77), clearly indicating the need for contextualized discussion and the
avoidance of universally-applied interpretations. The gradual increase in use of
green in the Late Bronze Age may then be indicative of a more worldly knowledge
of copper and bronze technology, the demystification of the industry and the
imposition of new social and political ideas brought about by the strengthening
influence within Crete of Mycenaean Greece.

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Caroline Jackson for the invitation to present this paper at
the Round Table and for her constant support and encouragement with my first
foray into public presentations. This paper is largely based on research undertaken
for my Masters dissertation at the University of Sheffield and thanks are due to
my supervisors, John Barrett and Paul Halstead, and also to Peter Day for their
critical but encouraging comments. The final version of this paper was written
while undertaking my PhD research, which I am grateful to the Arts and
Humanities Research Council for funding, and to my supervisor John Bennet for
unstinting support and his comments on the draft of this paper. I would also like
to express my thanks to all of the participants of the Round Table for their warm
reception and helpful observations, some of which I have tried to address in this
revised paper. In this regard especial thanks are due to Sue Sherratt, Paul
Nicholson, Andrew Shortland and Georg Nightingale. Finally, special thanks are
due to Pat and Allan Carter in Wanganui, without whom the presentation paper
would never have been written and who provided me with such a wonderful
arena in which to write it.

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