Space, Sound, and Light: Toward a Sensory Experience of Ancient Monumental Architecture

Author(s): Augusta McMahon

Source: American Journal of Archaeology, Vol. 117, No. 2 (April 2013), pp. 163-179
Published by: Archaeological Institute of America
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ARTICLE
Space, Sound, and Light: Toward a Sensory
Experience of Ancient Monumental Architecture
AUGUSTA McMAHON
Abstract
Scale and symmetry in monumental architecture are
embraced by archaeologists as the primary vocabulary
in past statements of power. In ancient Mesopotamia in
particular, the excessive size of public buildings implied
the control of both space and people. The predictable,
often symmetrical plans regulated and reflected control
over users’ behavior. However, interpretations based on
plans alone remain simplistic; analyses from ground level
can better encompass the lived experience of a building’s
occupants or users. Close ground-level phenomenological
analysis of movement through the Neo-Assyrian capital
city of Khorsabad (constructed and inhabited 717–706
B.C.E.), particularly its citadel, indicates that manipula-
tion of fields of view, interplay of light and shadow, and
variations in sound were equally important means of
conveying ideological messages.*
introduction
Mesopotamian culture employed monumental
buildings as material representations of power. From
the late fourth-millennium B.C.E. Eanna temples at
Uruk to Nebuchadnezzar’s palace in first-millennium
B.C.E. Babylon, large buildings were important, and
important buildings were large. In addition, ideologi-
cal, political, or social information could be conveyed
by symmetry or by distinctive architectural features,
such as wall reliefs or niched and buttressed facades.
Mesopotamian archaeologists have a tradition of
emphasizing building plans, in both general studies
and site reports. Mesopotamian scholarship is domi-
nated by functional and symbolic approaches to built
space and empirical studies that employ static de-
scription to discern middle-level meanings, or clear
statements about function and power.1 Buildings are
identified as archetypes: the courtyard house that re-
* Figures are my own unless otherwise noted.
1
Lawrence and Low (1990) provide a thorough discussion
of anthropological approaches to architecture. Rapoport
(1990) articulates middle-level meanings. Smith (2011) ana-
lyzes empirical theories as applied to ancient cities.
2
Such an approach has been termed “reception theory” in
163
American Journal of Archaeology 117 (2013) 163–79
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flects the extended family, the bent-axis temple that
expresses exclusivity of access to the gods, the mas-
sive many-roomed palace that presents centralization
of royal power. But while monumental architecture’s
static messages of function and power are the most
easily read, they were not the only messages written.
Approaches exploring the users’ experience by inte-
grating movement or multisensory perception are rare
but can supplement our understanding.2 This article
presents such an approach to the citadel of the first-
millennium B.C.E. Neo-Assyrian capital city of Khor-
sabad in northern Iraq.
Deconstruction of built space into patterns of move-
ment to and through it, rather than a static view from
above, has been enabled by the development of access
analysis.3 But access analysis reduces space use to a
formula, and human behavior does not always follow
formulas. A room may have many possible entries,
but one is used by preference; an apparently illogi-
cal entrance may be primary; spatial depth might not
always signal restricted access. Significant variables
such as size, shape, construction materials, and room
contents (including people) are not included. By con-
trast, Giddens’ structuration theory takes a bottom-up
approach, beginning from individual actions. These
actions are constrained by social structures—accepted
habits and traditions—but individual actions also re-
produce such structures. This theory’s application to
the archaeological record favors people over plans.
With its reflexivity among architecture, social inter-
action, and social reproduction,4 structuration theory
may offer useful insights for interpreting Mesopota-
mian domestic and monumental architecture. Archi-
tectural spaces present cues and limits to their own use,
Smith 2011.
3
See Hillier and Hanson (1984) for an explanation of ac-
cess analysis. See Brusasco (2004) for its application to Meso-
potamian domestic space.
4
Giddens 1984; Lawrence and Low 1990, 489.
164 AUGUSTA McMAHON
but their expected use (or non-use) has created and
shaped those spaces. However, structuration theory
also remains abstract, or social rather than personal.
Phenomenological approaches to landscapes can
equally be applied to buildings.5 With many complete
building and neighborhood plans available, Mesopo-
tamian urban landscapes form a plausible phenom-
enological case study. But phenomenology may be
too personal and subjective. Can a well-grounded ex-
perience of Mesopotamian architecture be written,
integrating plans and access with sensory perceptions
of space?
Superficially, the Neo-Assyrian imperial capital
of Khorsabad (constructed and inhabited 717–706
B.C.E.)6 is a strong example of an easily read city. The
massive scale and high visibility of the city, particularly
its citadel, symbolized and materialized power over
place, power over people and their labor, and power
to harness resources acquired from long distances.
The city and its buildings defined and reified politi-
cal structures within the empire; the buildings’ role
as “social capital” that expressed the wealth and high
status of their occupants is also clear.7 But intriguing-
ly, the plan of Khorsabad’s citadel lacks symmetry, an
element seen by some scholars as necessary in Meso-
potamian power statements. However, this asymmetry
may provide an alternative way of imparting messages,
and close analysis of the citadel reveals other modes of
creating a varied, memorable experience. This study
takes a ground-level approach, considering movement
through buildings, perceptions of space, and varia-
tions in light and sound, which may have had greater
impact on users than would the buildings’ plans and
absolute sizes.8 In fact, the Khorsabad citadel was so
enormous that its plan would have been effectively
unseeable at ground level.
5
Tilley (1994, 2004) is the best-known proponent of a phe-
nomenological approach to ancient landscapes. Similarly,
Bourdieu’s (1977) concepts of “habitus” and “body hexis”
foreground body experience and movement.
6
These are traditional, widely accepted dates derived from
king lists, chronicles, and textual correlations.
7
For a discussion of social capital, see Nielsen 1995, 55.
8
Adams (2007) and Letesson and Vansteenhuyse (2006)
have used similar approaches to study Minoan palaces. Fisher
(2009) has applied updated access analysis to a Late Bronze
Age monumental building at Enkomi, Cyprus.
9
Frankfort (1933, 82) mentions this settlement. See Fuchs
(1994, 293, no. 38) for a foundation deposit cylinder describ-
ing establishment of the city. Maganuba is given the Sumerian
“URU” signifier, which may designate a settlement of any size,
from village to city. No archaeological remains of this settle-
ment have been recovered.
10
A branch of the Khosr River, a Tigris tributary that also
runs through Nineveh, lies to the northwest of Khorsabad,
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[AJA 117
khorsabad
Khorsabad, ancient Dur-Sharrukin, or “Fortress
of Sargon,” the capital city of Sargon II (r. 721–705
B.C.E.), was the third Neo-Assyrian capital city, after
Ashur and Nimrud. It lies in the upper Tigris region
of northern Iraq, about 45 km north-northwest of
Nimrud and 18 km northeast of ancient Nineveh and
modern Mosul (fig. 1). It was mostly founded on vir-
gin soil, although there was a preexisting settlement,
Maganuba, below or nearby.9 The dominant landscape
feature of Nimrud and Nineveh is the Tigris River,
while the most striking feature of the more deeply
cut and rolling setting of Khorsabad is the relative
nearness and clarity of the lower range of the Zagros
Mountains.10 However, the city’s engineers did not
engage with the setting or local topography. Khors-
abad’s cityscape and main features are comparable to
those of its predecessor, Nimrud: a nearly square outer
wall, a main citadel with administrative and religious
buildings at the northwest, and a secondary citadel at
the southern corner (fig. 2). It is unusual that both
citadels straddled the city wall, raising their visibility
to the external gaze; at Nimrud and Nineveh, these
features lay along the city walls but did not protrude
beyond them.
The approximately 280–300 ha space captured
within the city walls is about the same size as Nimrud,
and, as at that city, the nature of space use within
Khorsabad’s walls—but outside the citadel—is virtu-
ally unknown. Khorsabad’s excavators concentrated
on the citadel, city walls, and gates, leaving us with
little information about the lower town.11 And what
may have been sparse and easily eroded remains from
a single period were further compromised by modern
cultivation.12 Sargon’s texts state that he settled de-
portees there (who may have originally been used to
but as a landscape feature it has minimal presence there.
11
Khorsabad was first excavated by Botta and Flandin in
1843–1844 (Botta and Flandin 1849–1850) and by Place in
1852–1853 (Place 1867–1870). Excavations resumed in 1928–
1935, directed by Chiera, then Frankfort and Loud, for the
Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago (Frankfort
1933, 1934; Loud 1936a; Loud and Altman 1938). The Sibit-
ti temple was excavated in 1957 by Safar for the Iraq State
Board of Antiquities (Safar 1957). A brief history of the ma-
jor excavations and discoveries appears in Albenda 2003. De-
scriptions and analyses of wall reliefs include Guralnick 1976,
1996, 2002, 2004; Reade 1976; Albenda 1983, 1986; Albenda
and Guralnick 1986; Linder 1986; Sence 2007. An analysis of
the throne room and its decoration program can be found
in Blocher 1999. Studies of the city gates and plan appear in
Battini 1996, 1998, 2000. Kose (1999) analyzes the ziggurat.
12
Botta, Flandin, and Place focused exclusively on the
citadel. The University of Chicago project excavated several
soundings in the lower town, hoping for evidence of domes-
2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE 165

construct and decorate the palace and city); there is

no mention of other citizens.13 The project of filling
the lower town with houses may have been left unfin-
ished when the capital was transferred to Nineveh.
But it is equally possible that occupation was inten-
tionally sparse, allowing for long internal vistas with
the city walls or citadel on the horizon. The paradox
of vast, enclosed, yet unbuilt space could potentially
have been an unsettling reminder of the unique na-
ture of the city.
Khorsabad’s city walls were massive: 24 m wide ac-
cording to Place, or 14 m wide according to Botta.14
Within the main citadel (10 ha), Sargon’s palace and
other buildings included some of the largest built
spaces known in the Mesopotamian archaeological
record. In addition, Khorsabad had the largest wall
reliefs of any Neo-Assyrian palace, their 3–6 m height
dwarfing the 2.0–2.5 m of reliefs at Nimrud and
Nineveh; their carving depth was also several times
greater. The winged-bull gate guardians were espe-
cially massive, measuring 4–5 m high and weighing
up to 50 tons.15 The extent of a collapsed wall paint-
ing from Building K, an administrative building on
the citadel, indicates that the walls there were at least Fig. 1. Map of northern Iraq, showing location of main
14 m high.16 The effects of height, depth, and mass Neo-Assyrian sites. Topographic information is shown for
clearly were fully embraced by the artists and engi- elevations over 1,315 ft. (ca. 400 m). Inset shows location
of map within Iraq.
neers of the city. As well as creating space, the city also
embodied the capture of time. Texts indicate that it
took 10 years to build; construction began in the fifth
year of Sargon’s reign, 717 B.C.E., and the palace was Despite the investment of labor and time, the city
inaugurated in the 16th year, 706 B.C.E., shortly be- has only a brief biography; it was officially abandoned
fore his death in battle.17 Prolonged construction may after Sargon’s death, and Sargon’s successor, Sen-
have been necessary for such a large-scale settlement nacherib, built a new capital at Nineveh. The texts give
and buildings, but the process of construction was a an impression of completion, brief use, and sudden
further statement of the emperor’s long-term power abandonment, but in fact these stages may have been
over people and their labor. staggered. The inauguration may have taken place

tic architecture. Their excavations around Gate 7 indicate
that the area near it, at least, was empty (Frankfort 1933, 87).
Public buildings with stamped bricks (but a poorly preserved
plan) were exposed southeast of the citadel in Area Z (Frank-
fort 1933, 87). Three trenches between Gate 1 and the cita-
del indicate that this area may have been occupied by houses,
as there was a layer of ash and sherds as much as 2 m deep
(Frankfort 1933, 89; Loud and Altman 1938; Wilson 1995).
Architecture remained elusive, and this area may equally have
been a rubbish dump for material generated during construc-
tion; it is the highest point of the site outside of the citadels.
13
See Parpola (1995) and Fuchs and Parpola (2001, 10, no.
12; 176, no. 280) for deportees or conscripts involved in Khor-
sabad’s construction. Letters also refer to work levied from lo-
cal populations (e.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990, 210, no.
296) and to professional builders such as brickmasons (Par-
pola 1987, 24, no. 25). Given the distance of Khorsabad from
other settlements, it is probable that these workers lived on-
site during construction; however, it is unclear how perma-
nent any workers’ residences were. Sargon’s correspondence
concentrates on materials, notably timber and straw for bricks
and plaster, and stone and metals for statues and reliefs (Par-
pola 1987; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990; Fuchs and Parpola
2001). There is less information about construction practices
and labor.
14
As cited in Loud and Altman 1938, 18. Although the plan
is the same as that of Nimrud, the massive scale of walls and
buildings at Khorsabad may have been in part a reflection
of the landscape setting and an attempt to compete with the
scale of the nearby mountains.
15
A bull in the collection of the Oriental Institute of the
University of Chicago is variously reported as weighing 29 or
40 tons (Loud 1936a, 44; Albenda 1986).
16
Loud and Altman 1938, 20, 90, pl. 88; Wilson 1995.
17
Millard 1994; Parpola 1995.

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166 AUGUSTA McMAHON [AJA 117

Fig. 2. Plan of Khorsabad (adapted from Loud and Altman 1938, pls. 68, 69). Elevation information in meters follows the origi-
nal publication; correlation with modern topographic measurements is imprecise (gray and white areas = buildings and their
courtyards; black areas = city wall and platforms under buildings; capital letters mark excavation areas).

before some structures were completed, since unused
door-socket covers and unplaced threshold slabs were
recovered in the temples and at Gate 7.18 And despite
official transfer of the capital to Nineveh, texts record
that Khorsabad was a minor administrative center dur-
ing the reigns of Sennacherib through Ashurbanipal.19
Archaeological evidence points to some continued use.
As at most other Neo-Assyrian sites, contextualized
occupational remains at Khorsabad are few, a situ-
ation that may have contributed to heavy emphasis
on the plan in previous studies. In many rooms, the
excavators tunneled along walls to reconstruct plans;
the centers of rooms—with any contents—were rarely
excavated, owing to the scale of the spaces.20 In part,
the scarcity of material culture may be ascribed to
the organized abandonment of the site; administra-
tive texts would have been removed to the library at
Nineveh, for instance.21 However, a few tablets were
found in scattered locations.22 Finishing touches, such
as cedar poles with engraved bronze bands, had been

18
For the temples, see Loud and Altman 1938, 89, figs. 101, ported wooden items—may have been removed for reuse;
120; Wilson 1995, 113. For Gate 7, see Frankfort 1933, 85– such dismantling would have involved lifting the surround-
6; Loud 1936a, 10, fig. 12. Pivot stones for the doors were in ing paving slabs.
place, but capping stones were lying alongside them. The ex- 19
Millard 1994; Parpola 1995.
cavators proposed that the doors had never been installed, a 20
This tunneling is visible in Loud and Altman’s (1938, pl.
suggestion based in part on lack of wear on the pivot stones. 6) aerial view of the excavations.
But the possibility exists that the doors had been placed but 21
Frankfort 1934, 87.
that the brief occupation did not result in visible wear. When 22
Loud 1936a, 121.
the capital was moved to Nineveh, the doors—expensive, im-

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2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE
installed in the temple.23 Some rooms off the palace
courtyard contained jars and iron ingots, agricultural
tools, armor, and weapons, while others held frag-
ments of ivory inlay from furniture and objects either
stored or used there.24 Some material, such as the clay
sealings found at the site, may reflect use rather than
storage. Loud and Altman also mention “great quanti-
ties” of water jars found in the temples.25 The burning
of the temple and the suite of rooms at the palace’s
northern end is also difficult to explain if there was not
some use before the capital was moved to Nineveh.26
Finally, two layers of pavement in the throne room, a
brick construction in Court XV, and a blocked door
in Room 167 of the temple suggest a secondary squat-
ter occupation.27 Thus, although sparse, evidence sup-
ports at least two phases of occupation in some parts
of the citadel—occupation conspicuously absent in
all modern renderings and descriptions of the site.
urban planning and symmetry in
mesopotamia
General consensus is that normative Mesopota-
mian cities were unplanned, or organic, in that their
arrangement of streets, houses, and open spaces fol-
lowed quotidian practices and changed gradually over
time. The early second-millennium B.C.E. arrange-
ment of Ur’s neighborhoods is perhaps the best ex-
ample of this. But even organic Mesopotamian cities
contained planned palatial and temple complexes
commissioned by and representing the power of elites.
From the early second millennium B.C.E., entire
planned cities existed, initially small outposts linked
to provincial government (e.g., Old Babylonian Ha-
23
Frankfort 1933, 100; Loud 1936a, 97–8, 104–6; Wilson
1995, fig. 9. The poles were decorated in a manner compara-
ble to that of the Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III doors
at Balawat (King 1915; Curtis and Tallis 2008) and were set in
niches in the temple facades. That these poles were left be-
hind may argue against the removal and recycling of doors
elsewhere. However, doors would have been more valuable
than poles because they require more materials and labor.
24
Jars, tools, and equipment came from Rooms 84 and 86
(Loud 1936a, 84; Loud and Altman 1938, 55; Pleiner 1979).
For the ivories, see Frankfort 1934, 88; Loud and Altman 1938.
25
Loud 1936a, 99.
26
At the north end of the palace, Rooms 7, 11, and 12 were
burned. For the temple, see Loud 1936a, 109.
27
Loud 1936a, 62, 85, 118.
28
Childe 1950.
29
Frankfort 1950; see also Margueron 1995.
30
Lloyd 1984, 202; see also Loud and Altman 1938, 10;
Gates 2003, 174. Frankfort (1954, 75) ascribed the asym-
metries to poor survey or building techniques, as did Loud
(1936b) with reference to the courtyards and rooms within
the palace. The unusual angle of the Nabu temple in relation
to other buildings was attributed by Frankfort (1954, 76) to
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167
radum and Tell Harmal) and eventually, by the first
millennium B.C.E., the well-known capital cities of the
Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian empires (Nimrud,
Khorsabad, Nineveh, and Babylon). Even planned cit-
ies, however, contained organic and irregular struc-
tures and spaces. Most Mesopotamian cities were in
fact planned and unplanned hybrids.
In the 1950 issue of Town Planning Review, following
Childe’s seminal article on the urban revolution,28 is a
less-cited article by Frankfort on the contrast between
planned and unplanned Mesopotamian cities. Frank-
fort used Khorsabad as his model for a planned city,
citing its square outer wall and gates imposed even
where probable traffic patterns made them useless.
Because the city was founded in an unoccupied area,
its planners did not have to work with or around ex-
isting features (as they did, e.g., with Nimrud’s cita-
del mound) but would have been free to express the
purest of imperial planning ideas.29
However, Khorsabad fell short of Frankfort’s ideal
of a planned imperial city. He bemoaned the asym-
metry of the citadel and the arrangement of the pal-
ace, temples, and residences: their main axes were
not parallel to one another or to the city walls, and
their outlines were irregular (fig. 3). He is not alone
in this complaint; Lloyd described Khorsabad’s citadel
layout as “haphazard to the point of inconvenience.”30
The individual buildings are asymmetrical, the rela-
tionships between them are irregular, and the citadel
walls both within and outside the city wall are vari-
able in length and not perpendicular to it. The city
gates are irregularly spaced, and only two of the seven
(Gates 4 and 7) are aligned with each other.31 Motifs of
religion or cosmology, but no other temple in Neo-Assyrian
Mesopotamia (dedicated to Nabu or any other deity) is re-
stricted in alignment in this way. In fact, the initial plans of the
palace drawn by Place (Loud 1936a, frontispiece) are notable
for their precise symmetry and right angles; these were ap-
parently somewhat impressionistic and were corrected by the
University of Chicago excavators (Loud and Altman 1938, 20;
Margueron 1995).
31
Battini (2000) argues for a cosmological design in the
relationship of the main and secondary citadels and in some
wall angles and distances within the city and citadel. She pro-
poses that adherence to equal distances may explain the city’s
and citadel’s asymmetries. While there are some interesting
equivalencies (e.g., the 250 m distance from the throne base
to the entrances of several other buildings on the citadel),
the distances involved are so great (e.g., the 1,045 m across
the city or even the 370 m between two points within the cit-
adel) that they would be difficult to measure precisely even
with a laser theodolite. This remains a theoretical, plan-based
approach, and as mentioned above, the scales of the city and
citadel are such that the plan would have been unappreciated
by users at ground level.
168 AUGUSTA McMAHON [AJA 117

Fig. 3. Plan of the citadel of Khorsabad (light gray and white areas = buildings and their courtyards; dark gray areas = city wall
and platforms under buildings) (adapted from Loud and Altman 1938, pl. 70).

grandeur familiar in western aesthetics, such as the
wide ramp to the palace, terminate abruptly and with-
out obvious meaning when viewed in plan. The palace
courtyards, such as Court XV, are trapezoidal rather
than rectangular. But was symmetry important? Might
impressions of spaciousness and accessibility have been
more highly valued?
accessibility and movement through the
palace
There is another aspect of the palace that sheds light
on the varied messages across the building: the unusu-
al open space at the western end of the palace plat-
form, where the citadel projects beyond the city walls
(see fig. 3). Beyond the palace, there is only one enig-
matic, rectangular structure (Monument X), which is
usually identified as a temple.32 It is tempting to think
of this open area as private harem space at the rear of
the building. But the number of rooms with doorways
onto this space—including some monumental rooms
that were only reached from it, rather than from far-
ther within the palace—belies this reconstruction.33
Margueron’s in-depth analysis of the palace focuses
on traffic patterns and suites of rooms; it identifies
an unusual multiplicity of routes and an unexpected
openness of the suites to each other and to the build-
ings’ exterior, in part because of the open western
space.34 The possibility of an upper floor confounds
the situation further, because it opens some rooms up
to vertical as well as horizontal access.35 The openness
of the palace is at odds with the modern vision of the
absolute power of the king and the Neo-Assyrian em-
pire’s highly structured hierarchy of officials.
However, it must be noted that the palace stood on
a platform with restricted access routes, limited to the
main ramp on the southeast side, the lesser ramp on

32
There is no equivalent open space at Nimrud, although reached exists at a smaller scale in Building F, on Khorsabad’s
the gradual infilling of the citadel there following the reign of so-called second citadel (Loud and Altman 1938, pl. 75;
Ashurnasirpal (by the palace of Adad-nirari III and the Cen- Frankfort 1954, fig. 34).
tral and Southwest Palaces) may have eventually covered a 34
Margueron 1995.
similar, originally open promenade south of the first palace. 35
Margueron 2005.
33
A similar open terrace from which major rooms were

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2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE
the south (which mainly served the temples), and the
bridge linking the palace to the Nabu temple, also on
the south.36 In addition, the platform stood in a court-
yard that itself had only two modes of entry. Finally,
the eastern portion of the palace had few doors to the
exterior and appears to have looked inward; only the
western portion of the palace looked outward. The op-
position between initial restriction and eventual open-
ness may have worked as a message of inclusion to a
limited audience; it may also have signaled variations
in control. The palace was not intended as a static vi-
sual statement but rather was meant to be experienced
through movement.
marking and reflecting movement in art
The physicality of gates and the visuality of their
artworks imply that there was a conscious engagement
by builders and artists with the movement of users of
Neo-Assyrian architecture. Gates in the Neo-Assyrian
period were roofed structures significantly wider than
their associated walls, with two or occasionally three
aligned doorways. The act of transition between outer
and inner spaces was thus emphasized: rather than a
single-walled plane to pass through, there was a gate
space with a physical presence. A person crossing from
one area to another was within the gate for a notice-
able, even if brief, time.
This acknowledgement of motion is also expressed
in the poses of gate-guardian figures. Winged-bull
lamassu or shedu at the entrances to many gates and
doorways at Khorsabad (and Nimrud) famously have
five legs. This visual “error” is attributed to the sculp-
tors’ treatment of the bull sculptures as two separate
relief panels, one seen from the front and the other
from the side (the five legs are adjusted to four in later
sculptures at Nineveh).37 The front view with both fore-
legs visible emphasizes the immobility and strength of
the guardian figure. The view from the side presents
the figure with one foreleg set back, as if the figure is
striding forward. But this symbolic forward movement
of the figure toward the outside of the building would
have had the visual effect of emphasizing movement
within the gateway, by either reflecting users’ move-
ment (as they departed) or seeming to increase their
speed by contrast on entry.
As early as 1936, scholars noted the possibility that
subtleties in design could influence viewers’ percep-
36
It must be admitted that the main ramp, as reconstruct-
ed, is 40 m long and ca. 7 m high (infra n. 42)—a gentle and
inviting slope of ca. 10.5°. By contrast, the lower stairs of the
Ur III–period ziggurat at Ur and the steps of Teotihuacan’s
Pyramid of the Sun have 32° slopes. Most reconstructions of
Khorsabad show a central ramp projecting into the courtyard,
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169
tions. Blackburn discussed an “optical illusion” in a
wall relief in Court VIII at Khorsabad. In this relief,
Sargon, although lower in absolute elevation, was
made to appear higher than the figures approaching
him, a column of horses and offering bearers. This il-
lusion was achieved by the addition of several “steps”
in the groundline among the figures across a 20 m
span, plus a subtle slanting of the figures away from
the vertical.38 This illusion embraces both vision and
visuality, or an understanding of the images, the spaces
between and around the images, and the cultural cat-
egorization of those spaces.
fields of view
The variation in messages of openness across the
palace and the theory that movement was a key de-
sign parameter can be integrated with closer analysis
of the citadel. Rejection of the idea that planning
must involve right angles and perfect symmetry shows
that the Khorsabad citadel was exquisitely designed
to create a powerful experience through hiding/
revealing space and then maximizing the visual im-
pression of scale. This analysis avoids the static bird’s-
eye view, which favors symmetry as seen from above,
to concentrate on the subjective experience of mov-
ing among the buildings at ground level, beginning
with fields of view.
The Khorsabad citadel is dominated by a large
courtyard, which might be simplistically equated with
inclusive and integrative social events. But access to the
courtyard was restricted: there are only two entrances
from the outer town. Thus, although the citadel was
highly visible from all parts of the city, it was very
poorly integrated with it. The courtyard was spacious
but also completely enclosed. The purpose of such a
space may have been to impress a small number of
occupants rather than to embrace a crowd.
As Frankfort noted in 1950, the major features of
the courtyard are markedly asymmetrical. The larg-
est, most visible, and thus presumably primary en-
trance (see fig. 3[Gate B]) does not directly face the
ramp that leads to the palace; it is instead offset to the
northeast along the citadel wall by approximately 35
m. This offset displeased Frankfort’s eye but had two
effects. The first was that the full scale of the courtyard
and its activities were hidden from viewers outside
the gate; the area of courtyard visible from outside
but a few reconstruct a pair of stairs parallel to the terrace, as
well as a long, shallow ramp along the northeast side of the ter-
race (e.g., Loud and Altman 1938, frontispiece, pl. 76).
37
Frankfort 1954, 83. For a clear example, see Loud and
Altman 1938, pl. 7.
38
Blackburn 1936; see also Loud 1936a, fig. 34.
170 AUGUSTA McMAHON
was perhaps its least used, northern quadrant.39 One
needed to enter to understand and appreciate the
space. This principle of hiding/revealing is also pres-
ent in the bent axis of fourth- and third-millennium
B.C.E. southern and central Mesopotamian temples,
which guided the religious experience, and in the
bent axis of Neo-Assyrian throne rooms (e.g., Throne
Room VII of Khorsabad itself). Difficult access and
low visibility can make a space desirable; they imply
control of space and of the knowledge of activities in
that space. The plan precisely structures movement
within the building. These aspects encode a message
that interactions between people and this space and
among people within this space are limited in scope
and directed by others.
The second effect of the asymmetrical placement
occurred within the courtyard and consisted of mak-
ing visible more of the space and its defining walls,
thereby dramatically altering a person’s perceptions
of its size. There are many ways to explore this field of
vision; possibilities are presented in figures 4a and 4b.
These hypothetical fields of vision are based on the
concept of two-dimensional isovists, or spaces visible
39
The palace and Nabu temple were probably the main em-
ployers and targets of visitors, while the northern quadrant
would have mainly seen traffic to Sinahusur’s palace, which
was not negligible but was less frequent than traffic farther
south. It is difficult to ascertain height differences between the
outer town and citadel to determine whether vertical differ-
ential would have been an additional factor limiting the view
through the gateway. The topographic plan indicates an eleva-
tion of ca. 305 m just outside the citadel, but accumulation of
eroded material may have raised this surface from the original.
Further, the ground level in the gateway was probably higher
than that of the courtyard, preventing easy viewing from out-
side. A cross-section through Gate A shows a gentle rise and
fall from the exterior through the gate to the interior (Loud
and Altman 1938, pl. 77), and Gate B may have had a similar
profile. Spot elevations indicate a drop in ground level of more
than 1 m from Gate B (306.42 m) to the palace ramp (305.21
m). Even this slight difference would have impeded any view of
the courtyard from outside. The issue of doors, whether they
stood open or were shut during the day, is difficult to resolve.
40
See Benedikt (1979) for an introduction to isovists; Bene-
dikt and Burnham (1985) for links between isovists and spa-
tial perception; and Batty (2001), Turner et al. (2001), and
Turner (2003) for further developments of the method. A
two-dimensional isovist segment, as used here, corresponds
roughly to “viewshed” in GIS and landscape studies.
41
Potential paths across the courtyard are unclear; there
are no recorded pavings or axial features; there are also no
recorded eye-attracting fixed or moveable features, such as
basins or stelae. Nevertheless, we may assume four primary
routes, clockwise from the left: from Gate B to the entrance of
Building K, from Gate B past the corner of Building K to the
Nabu temple, from Gate B to the palace terrace ramp, and
from Gate B to the entrance to Sinahusur’s palace. In each
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[AJA 117
from specific vantage points, and they compare the
actual entrance with a symmetrically located imaginary
vantage point.40 Isovist fields change with every step of
the viewer along a path and have a full 360° potential
field of view; the calculations here are linked to single-
direction isovist segments specific to viewers who have
entered through a gate and then almost immediately
stopped within the courtyard. This is a logical point
for a new viewer in particular to stop briefly, to plan
his or her next action.41
If the ramp to the palace was the entrant’s initial
focus,42 then the actual gate placement would have
forced the entrant to turn to the left at the gate’s inner
edge. The angle of clear vision for most people, cross-
culturally, is 60°; distortion occurs beyond that, but a
relatively clear vision sweep of 90° is still achievable
with minimal head movement.43 Figure 4a presents the
areas covered by 60° fields of view generated from the
actual entry point as well as a hypothetical symmetrical
one, each focused on the center of the ramp. Figure 4b
presents 90° fields based on the same two entry points
and focal point. In each case, the area in the actual
field of view is significantly larger than the area in view
case, these are potential “landmark” connections rather than
strongly indicated paths.
42
Although a large area of the courtyard may have been
visible, precise focal points generate “axial”-focused viewing
that effectively shuts out parts of viewing areas. Focal points
would have varied, since courtyard entrants may have been
destined for the Nabu temple or other buildings on the cita-
del, rather than the palace itself (supra n. 41). However, the
ramp would have been an impressive feature to someone first
entering the courtyard, even if that person did not intend to
use it; the dark arches at the top of the palace’s entrance may
also have caught the eye. The height of the palace terrace
(thus the height of the ramp) is more than 7 m (its elevation
at the palace gate is recorded as ca. 312.65 m, while the eleva-
tion of the courtyard near the ramp is recorded as 305.21 m
[Loud and Altman 1938, pl. 70]). Some visitors would have
entered only infrequently, in special circumstances, and may
have slowed upon arrival at a new place, while for others, entry
would have been a daily, work-related experience, a custom-
ary action. This study focuses on the experience of the former.
43
Including greater distortion and peripheral vision, the
horizontal angle of complete binocular vision is 200° (100° to
each side). But this possibility is too broad to be useful, par-
ticularly at distances of more than 100 m (cf. Fisher [2009] for
application of isovists covering 10° detailed fields of view vs.
the 200° scope of full vision). The human vertical field of bin-
ocular vision is ca. 135°, enough to encompass the full height
of the buildings and platforms within the courtyard. See
Letesson and Vansteenhuyse (2006) for application of vari-
ous angles of vision to building elevations in Minoan palatial
contexts. The Khorsabad courtyard is, of course, a volume of
space rather than simply an area. But the courtyard is not ver-
tically complex; the two-dimensional isovist stands as a good
proxy for the three-dimensional experience.
2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE 171

Fig. 4. Detail of Khorsabad citadel courtyard with various spatial analyses (light gray and white areas = buildings and their
courtyards; dark gray areas = city wall and platforms under buildings): a, 60° isovist (solid black line = actual isovist; dashed
line = hypothetical symmetrical-entry isovist); b, 90° isovist (solid black line = actual isovist; dashed line = hypothetical
symmetrical-entry isovist); c, longest axial lines (solid line = actual entry; dashed line = hypothetical symmetrical entry).

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172 AUGUSTA McMAHON
from a hypothetical symmetrical entrance directly op-
posite the ramp (table 1). The field of view is directly
linked to perceptions of spaciousness. The perimeters
of these fields of view also vary significantly, although
the difference, compared with the difference in area,
is not as great. The relationship of perimeter to area
is used in isovist studies for calculations of openness
and complexity. However, these qualities are less rel-
evant here, since the Khorsabad isovists encompass a
fairly simple and entirely enclosed space rather than
one offering glimpses of adjacent areas.44
The contents of the viewed area are additional vari-
ables. The ramp would have dominated the field of
view from a point directly opposite it, reducing the
rest of the courtyard to slivers of less important space
to each side. By contrast, the actual entrance’s field of
view was still taken up in large part by the ramp, but
significant areas of the courtyard and the palace ter-
race wall were visible. The side of the ramp was also
visible, both reinforcing its energy as it thrust into the
courtyard’s empty space and signifying vertical move-
ment. The actual view would have comprised not just
a larger area (Lefebvre’s “perceived” space)45 but also
a different configuration of space and its elements, all
of which would have altered one’s perception of its
size (“conceived space”).46
In both reconstructions, the full perimeter of the
field of view would have been constrained by walls.
The height of the courtyard walls (possibly 3–5 m),
buildings (up to 14 m), and palace terrace (ca. 7 m)
are much taller than the height of an average person
and would have completely blocked any view of natural
features or the cityscape outside the citadel. A similar
enclosure and blocking of natural landscape features
has been noted for the main courtyards in the palaces
at Mycenae, Tiryns, and Pylos.47 With the ramp, the
niched and buttressed palace terrace facade, the walls
of other buildings, and the narrow gaps between them,
the edges of the field of view would have been com-
44
See Batty (2001) for calculations of aspects such as com-
pactness or convexity based on measurements within isovist
spaces. See Chatford Clark (2007) for a recent calculation of
spaciousness, openness, and complexity in some Jordanian
Byzantine churches. Other measurements within the Khors-
abad courtyard, such as the distance between entry point and
ramp center, show little variation between the two possibilities
(73 m in the hypothetical vs. 79 m in the actual arrangement).
This imperceptible differential in walking distance emphasiz-
es the importance of the difference in visible area and thus
perception of scale.
45
Lefebvre 1991.
46
The presence of people would also have altered percep-
tions of the space. A small number adds to a feeling of spa-
ciousness; a crowd creates fullness. People at a distance have
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[AJA 117
plex, “full,” and well articulated.48 In particular, from
Gate B, the facade of the palace platform presents a
strong edge that continues and disappears beyond
Building K on the left and Sinahusur’s palace on the
right, making the platform appear infinite.49
Planning the location of the gate involved a third
and final aspect (see fig. 4c). It is notable that the
longest axial line of sight from the existing entrance,
the line that skims the northwest corner of Building
K, is aligned directly with the other entrance to the
courtyard, the tunnel leading from Gate A. This tun-
nel would not have been visible from a hypothetical
symmetrical gate. The longest line in the hypothetical
gate isovist also runs in the same direction, just past the
corner of Building K to the south edge of the palace
platform, but that line simply ends at the platform, in
meaningless space. These two sets of calculations and
the latter view trajectory all indicate that the lack of
axial symmetry bemoaned by Frankfort, Lloyd, and
others, far from being awkward and makeshift, masked
a nuanced, innovative use and manipulation of space
at the interface between the ideology of monumental-
ity and the praxis of visual experience.
light and shadow
Creating an impression of size may not have been
the only consideration in the construction of the Khor-
sabad citadel. Manipulating light and shadow, and
thereby varying the intensity of visual experience, may
have been equally important. At all times of year, the
sun was a major variable in Mesopotamian life; it af-
fected the orientation of houses and placement of win-
dows and doors.50 The Mesopotamian natural outdoor
“lightscape” was extreme: in this region in the past and
today, bright light is typical, and shadows are sharp but
not deep.51 Sunlight there also affects the visibility of
color and its saturation. Summer sunlight in particular
strips away color, making mudbricks, plaster, and stone
appear nearly white; it is only in shadow that natural
a different effect than people close to the observer. Such fluid
aspects are, however, difficult to estimate.
47
Cavanagh 2001.
48
This corresponds to the isovist designation of “closed”
perimeter, where the line of sight stops against a built feature
or wall. In both isovists, Gate B and the hypothetical entrance,
there are very few “open” lines, or perimeter segments that do
not end in a wall or feature.
49
This facade is more than 300 m long and ca. 7 m high,
and the palace, measuring at least 8 m high, rises above that.
50
See Shepperson (2009) for a recent consideration of sun-
light within second-millennium B.C.E. domestic, religious,
and urban space in Mesopotamia.
51
For the term “lightscape,” see Bille and Sørensen 2007,
267.
2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE
Table 1. Isovist Areas and Perimeters from Actual Gate B and a Hypothetical Symmetrical Gate in the Khorsabad
Citadel Courtyard.a
Isovists From Actual
Gate B
60° isovist area 9,620 m2
60° isovist perimeter 470 m
90° isovist area 15,740 m2
90° isovist perimeter 625 m
a
All measurements in meters are rounded to the nearest 5. For simplicity, the area of the ramp is included as if flat and contigu-
ous with the courtyard.
colors are visible. Sunlight, for most of the Mesopota-
mian year, was something to avoid, while shadow would
have had positive aspects of coolness, richness of color,
and increased visibility.52 The dominant associations of
sunlight with great heat and of shadow with welcome
reduced temperatures carry values that are the opposite
of those common in Western cultures, which regard
light as positive and shadow as dangerous.
A convention of Mesopotamian architectural de-
scription is that the niched and buttressed facades
of public buildings from the Ubaid period onward
relieved the starkness of mudbrick walls by creating
linear, regular shadows.53 The manipulation of light
and shadow inside monumental complexes could be
a logical extension of work with light and shadow on
building facades. Darkness and light may have become
“building materials” for creating structures and con-
trasts54 serially experienced during movement through
the complex. This was Lefebvre’s “lived space,” a space
dependent on the inhabitants and users of architec-
ture, on daily routines, and on weather and season.55
52
Mesopotamian texts associate the sun god Shamash,
light, and shine with positive values (e.g., the brilliance and
radiance of Shamash are praised in several Neo-Assyrian
hymns, and the walls of Uruk shine in the Epic of Gilgamesh).
This positive value system in no way invalidates the avoidance
and negative qualities of extreme light. Sense of temperature
is here lumped together with the sense of vision, but recep-
tiveness to temperature differences has been identified by
some as a distinct sense separate from the traditional five,
along with the senses of balance and movement.
53
Bell 1914, 124; Dougherty 1927; Frankfort 1954, 2; Oates
1990, 391–92; Crawford 1991, 75. At Khorsabad, the facades
of the palace, palace platform, citadel, and city walls have but-
tresses that are more widely spaced than the classic Ubaid-
Uruk examples but are in the same vein. In a twist on this
mudbrick construction, the possible temple on the palace
platform was constructed from dark and light stones: light
limestone or Mosul marble and black limestone or basalt
(Reade 2008, 23). The alternation of dark and light stones is
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173
From Hypothetical % Actual Area or
Symmetrical Gate Perimeter Is Greater
7,680 m2 25
400 m 17
12,615 m2 25
515 m 21
The strongest use of the dark/light contrast at Khor-
sabad is in the passage and tunnel that leads from
Gate A (see fig. 3). Located at the opposite corner of
the plaza from Gate B, this narrow entrance can seem
paradoxically cramped and awkward when viewed
in plan, out of tune with its massive gate. Yet Gate A
cannot be dismissed as secondary; it was flanked by
winged bulls and genii and was clearly intended to
be a major portal. It is the quickest and most direct
means of access for anyone arriving via Gate 7 from the
northwest, the direction of Urartu, eastern Anatolia,
or even the northern east–west route across Assyria.
Beyond Gate A, which marked transitional space, the
entrant proceeded through a wide but overshadowed
passage some 145 m long and 14 m wide, between the
Nabu temple platform on the right (ht. 4–5 m) and the
blank wall of Building M on the left (ht. unknown).
That passage narrowed and turned at the end, where
it became a narrow tunnel (lgth. 15 m, width. 3.5 m)
before opening onto the courtyard.56 The tunnel is
usually interpreted as secondary to the creation of the
more typically Syro-Hittite than Neo-Assyrian, but the users’
appreciation of the contrast thus produced could have arisen
from local experience of light and shadow within mudbrick
building traditions.
54
Bille and Sørensen 2007, 270.
55
Lefebvre 1991.
56
Adams (2007, 365, 369) interprets the narrowing and
steep slope of an entrance at the Minoan Neopalatial-period
palace at Knossos as a “strategy of intimidation.” Such an inter-
pretation for the darkness and concealment and the restric-
tion of users of the corridor tunnel at Gate A at Khorsabad is
also plausible within the traditional view of the Neo-Assyrian
empire as authoritarian and repressive. But the Khorsabad
corridor tunnel seems designed for its contrastive effect with
the open courtyard, not as a power statement by itself. The
shade and coolness it provided may have been welcoming. At
ca. 3.5 m across, the tunnel could accommodate in each direc-
tion three or four people walking abreast.
174 AUGUSTA McMAHON
bridge between the palace terrace and Nabu temple, a
bridge needed for direct access by the king. However,
that bridge may in fact have been secondary to the
creation of the space and bodily experience below it.
The constriction and light/shadow contrasts as one
moved through the tunnel would have been powerful
and dramatic. At the end, the courtyard’s full extent
would have been slowly revealed as the entrant walked
past the ramp of the Nabu temple and then beyond
the north corner of Building K. This controlled ar-
rival experience presents a contrast to the undefined
space offered to an entrant from Gate B; paths there
are multiple and unfixed.57 Gates A and B may have
been used by different social or professional groups
to filter particular users into designated areas of the
courtyard and toward specific views. But this is not re-
flected in material remains or textual records.
Space and light are linked. The physical contraction
of the passage and tunnel, followed by the sudden wid-
ening in the courtyard and matched by the step-wise
decrease and then increase in both light and tempera-
ture, would have emphasized the transition between
types of space. As well as the courtyard being directly
lit by the sun (winter or summer), the light mudbrick
walls around the courtyard would have been highly re-
flective and the space very bright. Thus, there would
be throughout the journey a “light at the end of the
tunnel” and a final explosive contrast from darkness
to light.58 The concept of concealment/display may
have been an element in this arrangement, with the
tunnel obscuring the courtyard until the end. But it
was the almost violent return of light that would have
overridden the seen/unseen dichotomy.
The intensity of light and shadow within the passage
and courtyard would have changed throughout the
day and from season to season, but the contrast would
have persisted. In some seasons and at some times, the
57
Supra n. 41.
58
I focus throughout on entrants to the citadel rather than
on departees; see also Adams 2007, 362. The effect on those
leaving the citadel by this route would have been similarly dra-
matic and possibly more disorienting.
59
Smith 2007, 9–10; Jay 2011, 310. The five traditional hu-
man senses and their hierarchy were perhaps first articulated
by Aristotle (De an. 2; Sens.) and have been reified by Thom-
as Aquinas (Summa Theologica) and many philosophers since.
The classification and ranking of the senses are now widely ac-
knowledged as culturally dependent, and the debate over the
supremacy of vision is long and ongoing (e.g., Frieman and
Gillings 2007 [with references]). People use vision and hear-
ing to gather information from both near and far, while taste,
touch, and smell are essentially proximal.
60
See Lambert and Millard (1969) for a translation.
61
Houston and Taube 2000; Watson 2001; Witmore 2006.
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[AJA 117
courtyard light may indeed have been blinding. This
artificial lightscape combined light and shadow and,
more importantly, manipulated users’ experience of
lit and shadowed spaces and their meanings. These
meanings, and the combination of meanings, seem to
be more than simple power statements. Creation of an
unusual and memorable experience involving strong
and disorienting contrasts may have been the goal.
the sounds of movement
After sight, hearing is the sense usually ranked high-
est by Western cultures.59 Even if ancient Mesopota-
mia did not possess a hierarchy of senses similar to
that of the modern West, the sense of hearing would
nonetheless have been in play in the experience of
the Khorsabad citadel. In a mostly illiterate world, in
which oral performance was the primary method of
communicating rituals and myths, the importance of
hearing and appreciation of sounds cannot be over-
estimated. One of Mesopotamia’s most famous literary
works, the Atrahasis Epic, even records that incessant
human noise was the reason that Enlil caused the
Flood (and the plague, drought, and infertility that
preceded it but had no lasting effects).60
Archaeology is firmly rooted in the visual, a situa-
tion continually reified by our traditions and habits
of recording and (re)presenting.61 Yet activities and
places have sounds that are intrinsic parts of their
practice and “place-ness.” Sounds are crucial to lived
experiences of spaces. All sounds are ephemeral, and
ancient sounds are doubly difficult to reestablish.
Acoustic archaeology thus remains a young field, and
most studies explore sounds of ritual or sounds within
ritual or sacred spaces.62 A few studies have focused on
the quotidian sounds of foot traffic, conversation, work,
and manufacturing activities,63 the sounds of objects,64
or the mixed soundscape of everyday actions and
62
E.g., consciously produced musical sounds (drumming,
chanting, striking rocks) or voices in ritual performance
contexts such as henges, caves, passage graves, or rock art
locations (Dams 1984, 1985; Reznikoff and Dauvois 1988;
Reznikoff 1995; Devereux and Jahn 1996; Jahn et al. 1996;
Lawson et al. 1998; Watson and Keating 1999; Watson 2001;
Scarre and Lawson 2006). Studies of sounds made or heard
within monumental architecture, which are of greater rel-
evance for Khorsabad, include the study of resonance in
subterranean corridors at the temple complex of Chavín de
Huántar, Peru (Kolar et al. 2010), and that of the chirped
echo in front of the staircase of the Kukulkan temple at
Chichen Itza (Lubman 2010).
63
Boivin et al. 2007.
64
Studies of the sounds of lithic production and the strik-
ing of lithic tools against each other include Cross et al. 2002;
Cross and Watson 2006; Mills and Pannett 2009.
2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE
nature.65 If we think about the use of palaces and temple
courtyards in Neo-Assyrian Mesopotamia, it is as the-
aters for rituals and processions. Textual descriptions
and palace reliefs depicting harps, drums, and singers
in lion-hunt libation rituals, building dedications, and
military processions hint at the sounds generated dur-
ing these events.66 But those rituals would have been
sporadic occasions, and surely the Khorsabad citadel
courtyard more often saw informal use or daily passage.
The sounds most often created in the various spac-
es of the Khorsabad citadel would have been neither
ritual nor productive but part of the movement of
individuals and groups within the multifunctional
monumental space. Such sounds would have been a
crucial aspect of the experience. Within such a large,
open space, the sounds of movements and conver-
sation would have merged, diffused, and been con-
fused into a generic and omnidirectional background
noise.67 Within that soundscape, the footfalls of any
individual would have merged with those of others. By
contrast, within the passage and tunnel from Gate A,
the stone-lined walls would have reflected sound, and
the amplified and reverberating step of the individual
(as heard by that individual) could have increased
both self-awareness and an awareness of the built and
covered (and shadowed and cool) space. The sound
would have been a combination of direct sound waves
from footsteps and “standing waves,” the echoes of
those steps reflected back from the walls and roof. This
combination can intensify sound, alter its apparent
source, or make it seem to last longer, vibrate, and/
or increase in speed/frequency, depending on the di-
mensions of the space and position of the actor.68 We
65
The term “soundscape” was invented by R. Murray Scha-
fer, founder of the World Soundscape Project in the 1960s, to
encompass natural and technological sounds and the com-
petition between them. For more recent assessments of past
soundscapes, see Mills 2004, 2005; Coates 2005. For an in-
sightful study of urban soundscapes in identity construction
in 17th- to 19th-century Europe, see Garrioch 2003.
66
See Reade (2005, esp. figs. 6, 8, 17–19, 24, 25, 28–30) for
ritual processions on palace reliefs from the reigns of Sen-
nacherib and Ashurbanipal, including musicians with drums,
harps, and cymbals, and others singing and/or clapping.
However, many processions thus depicted appear to have
taken place in the open, not inside built spaces. Sargon’s so-
called Display Inscription from Rooms IV, VII, VIII, and X of
the Khorsabad palace describes the palace inauguration as
accompanied by a “feast of music” (Luckenbill 1927, 38). The
same line is repeated on the so-called Pavement Inscription
(Luckenbill 1927, 51); unfortunately, no details about the
instruments are given. Dedication of the Temple of Mulissu
during the reign of Esarhaddon or Ashurbanipal involved a
procession around the outside of the building with a kettle-
drum (Cole and Machinist 1998, 15).
67
Bruchez (2007) has addressed the importance of natural
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175
know the width and length of the passage and tunnel
but not their precise height, which would affect echo
length. Published photographs of the tunnel show it
preserved about 4.8 m high; it has been reconstructed
as about 5.5 m in total. It had an arched stone roof
and a “lime and rubble” floor.69 Some wall sections of
this tunnel were still visible relatively recently (fig. 5).
Sound effects would have multiplied as more people
entered the passage and tunnel. An echoing auditory
experience would have been unusual—since tunnels
were rare in Mesopotamian architecture—and insepa-
rable from the coincident deep shadow and cool tem-
perature. But as the actor stepped from the tunnel into
the courtyard and from dark to light, the sound of his
or her footsteps also would have rapidly receded and
would have been muffled by and captured within gen-
eral diffused sounds from the courtyard at the same
moment the light increased. While our understanding
of the Mesopotamian values assigned to light/shadow
or self noise/crowd noise may be imprecise, we can
appreciate the dramatic and inverse changes experi-
enced by at least two senses during the walk through
the tunnel and into the courtyard.
There are two smaller but comparable examples
of shadowed spaces and soundscapes between large
courtyards within the palace itself. The first, Corridor
10, located between Court VIII (the main court associ-
ated with the throne room) and Court III (a smaller
court at the north end of the palace), was 22 m long
by only 3 m wide (fig. 6).70 It was paved with stones,
lined on both sides with reliefs of foreign tribute bear-
ers, and guarded by bull figures at each end.71 It slopes
down from northwest to southeast, from the higher
sounds in human experience in general and in Mesoameri-
can archaeological contexts in particular. Natural sounds
experienced in the Khorsabad citadel would have been domi-
nated by wind to the near exclusion of all else (unless trees
were planted in the courtyard, as in some reconstructions).
The sounds of rain and storms would have been seasonal.
Flocks of birds in flight (as in, e.g., the Omayyad Mosque
courtyard in Damascus) may have occasionally added to the
natural soundscape.
68
Cross and Watson 2006.
69
Loud and Altman 1938, pls. 12 (preserved ht. at excava-
tion), 81 (reconstruction).
70
See Loud and Altman (1938, 40–2, figs. 48–55) for a de-
scription and images of the reliefs lining this corridor. Other
long, narrow rooms used for traffic, rather than storage or
access to storerooms, include Room 39 in Building M (Loud
and Altman 1938, pl. 73) and Room 67 in Sinahusur’s palace.
Instances of unroofed narrow areas between buildings and
enclosure walls are more common (e.g., Room 48 in Sinahu-
sur’s palace), but these do not appear to have been well-used
traffic routes.
71
Botta and Flandin 1849–1850, 2:pls. 122–36; Reade 1976,
97.
176 AUGUSTA McMAHON
Fig. 5. Tunnel between the Nabu temple (right ) and palace terrace (left ), as preserved in the spring of 1989.
Court III to the lower Court VIII.72 The excavators
proposed a vaulted roof, but that was speculation. The
use of stone paving slabs rather than sound-absorbing
brick may have been a deliberate attempt to amplify
the sound of footsteps. The changes in the tones of the
footsteps—on brick or plaster in the courtyard, stone
in the corridor, and back again—would have been
integrated with light-dark-light and warm-cool-warm
transitions. The crowded tribute-bearer reliefs on ei-
ther side of this narrow corridor may have made the
footstep sounds particularly evocative. Corridor 10 is
matched by Corridor 134, which is of the same width
and only slightly shorter at about 20 m. Corridor 134
runs between Court VIII and the much smaller Court
XVIII (see fig. 6); a similar, smaller corridor (wdth.
ca. 3 m, lgth. 12 m) connects courtyard to terrace in
Building F in the second citadel. Corridors are rare;
elsewhere in the palace, access patterns traverse mul-
tiple rooms via aligned doorways (e.g., Rooms 80 and
81, parallel to Corridor 134, between Courts VIII and
XV [see fig. 6]). The rarity of the long, narrow corridor
space, combined with the sensory experience, would
have emphasized the contrast between the palace and
nonmonumental structures.
72
The slope is clearly visible in Loud and Altman 1938, fig. 49.
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All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
[AJA 117
Was the creation of a soundscape an intended effect
at Khorsabad? The textual record does not indicate
this level of conscious planning, but it is sparse in rel-
evant details. It is safer to say that the corridors and
movement through them created soundscapes, light-
scapes, and temperaturescapes, along with the visual
impression of enclosure. Variability in these scapes,
and their rarity, would have heightened the Khors-
abad visitor’s sense that the citadel and its buildings
were unusual, memorable, and not to be replicated.
conclusion
The citadel of Khorsabad disappoints scholars look-
ing for simple symmetry as a material expression of
power. But experiential reconstructions of architec-
ture, by incorporating ground-level views and move-
ment, can provide a powerful counterpoint to the
artificiality of plans in bird’s-eye perspective. A synes-
thetic approach to the citadel buildings allows for an
appreciation of strong visual and aural contrasts. In par-
ticular, the creation of passageways and corridors, with
their combination of limited, controlled movement
and elevated sensory input (visual and aural), would
have been rare outside of royal architecture. Khors-
2013] A SENSORY EXPERIENCE OF ANCIENT MONUMENTAL ARCHITECTURE 177

Fig. 6. Location and detail of Corridors 10 and 134, Khorsabad palace (adapted from Loud 1936a, figs. 22, 48; Loud and Alt-
man 1938, pl. 76). Arabic numerals refer to rooms assumed by Place (1867–1870) to be roofed, and Roman numerals refer to
courtyards or spaces assumed by Place to be unroofed; Loud and Altman retained the numbering system in their excavations.

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