Source 3 httpwww.jstor.orgstable496111seq=1#page_scan_tab_c.docx

Source 3:
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Source 4: http://www.encyclopedia.com/topic/Myron.aspx#1-
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Source 5: http://www.britannica.com/biography/Myron
CHINA BEFORE THE EUROPEANS
China is the world’s most stable civilization. There is no other
place on earth where one has to start four thousand years ago to
explain what is happening today, where aspects of today’s
culture were so recognizable as far before the birth of Christ as
we are after it.
Three things necessary to know from the beginning of China’s
recorded history: the concept of yin and yang, ancestor
veneration, and how Chinese is written. For the Chinese, the
power that drives the universe comes from the twin poles of yin
and yang. Yin is female, weak, dark, feeling, body, earth, war,
death; yang is male, strong, light, thinking, spirit, sky, peace,
life. These dualities, these polar opposites, make up the
universe, and drive the universe with the energy the flows
between them, like the poles of a magnet. They are opposite, yet
they do not exist in isolation, nor do they exist without the
other. This is beautifully summed up in the taijitu symbol,
where the black and white are, first, not a straight line but one
that curves greatly, and where the opposite-shaded dots
represent the indivisible nature of their union.
The universe only works well if the yin and the yang are in
balance, and one of these pairs of opposites are heaven and
earth. Earth is what we experience; heaven is that which we do
not directly experience in this life, but where we go after this
life. Chinese ideas of divinity are very vague—there are gods,
but they are not the be-all nor the end-all—but those forces that

important are in heaven, and they do not care what happens on
earth. Those who do care are our ancestors, as long as we
continue to respect them. Thus every year, for as long as we
have records, the Chinese have paid respect to their ancestors,
gathering at their graves, leaving them food, leaving them
money, tidying things up, so that they will look after us and
listen to our requests and our prayers.
Chinese writing has also not changed greatly, at least in its
general outlines, in four thousand years. Most writing systems
began as ideographic systems, which is to say that one symbol
equaled one idea. In most places, the earliest writing was
keeping track of business transactions or warehouse inventories.
For example, three dashes would mean “three,” a square with
outwardly rounded sides could stand in for a barrel, and a mug
with suds could represent beer, and thus you knew there were
three barrels of beer in the warehouse that day. As the utility of
writing became apparent, however, and since this system could
not easily keep track of the necessary grammatical changes—i.e,
the difference between man, man’s, men, and men’s, or walk,
walking, walked—these ideographic systems quickly changed to
syllabic or alphabetic systems, related to sounds and not
meanings.
Chinese grammar did work the same, and the writing system
never changed. You can see in this chart how similar some
characters have remained since earliest dynasty to our time.
This has had tremendous effects on Chinese history. The most
important is that education is simultaneously both harder to
obtain in China, and more important. Instead of mastering
twenty-six letters, to be literate in Chinese one must learn over
three thousand characters for basic literacy; most good
dictionaries have fifty thousand characters. To be able to read a
newspaper, one must spend years learning characters. On the
other hand, it has kept Chinese together as a language. Just as
Latin has broken down into a dozen different languages over the
centuries, spoken Chinese is really dozens of different

languages, often not mutually intelligible. For example, when
Winthrop students take Chinese 101, they are really learning
Mandarin, the version of Chinese spoken in the north around
Beijing; since most immigration to the United States came from
southern China, where Cantonese is spoken, knowing Mandarin
will not help someone asking for chopsticks. On the other hand,
you can just write the characters, which, since they represent
the ideas and not the sounds, are the same for everybody.
All of these things come together at the beginning of known
Chinese history, during the Shang dynasty (second millennium
BCE). The Shang kings justified their rule by having the best-
connected ancestors in heaven. While individual families’
ancestors could help with a child’s illness or finding a good
husband, only the Shang ancestors were important enough and
powerful enough to help with issues of national scale, such as
droughts or floods or plagues. Indeed, the earliest writing we
have in Chinese are from the conversations they had with their
ancestors, where they wrote questions down on bones, threw
those bones in a fire, and then interpreted the patterns of the
answers. Thus did the Shang claim power by helping to keep
heaven and earth in balance.
The problem came in the 1000s BCE, when the Zhou overthrew
the Shang and established a new dynasty. They did not have the
really well-connected answers, and somehow had to explain why
they could kick out the people whose ancestors were the only
hope to contact heaven. They came up with a justification that
shapes Chinese thought to this day: the Mandate of Heaven.
Heaven authorized (a mandate is an authorization; words
usually do not mean what American politicians think they mean)
the Shang to rule as long as the Shang ruled virtuously, in the
interests of all the people and not themselves. The Shang,
however, had lost that mandate, and the signs that a mandate
has been withdrawn were earthquakes, and floods, and other
natural disasters. For short-term political purposes, the Zhou
developed an idea that took on a life of its own and which still
has tremendous force today. The major square in Beijing—the

largest urban square in the world—is Tiananmien Square, where
the main entrance into the old imperial palace is located. This
symbolic place was called the Gate of Heavenly Peace, a
symbol of that the mandate was still in force and that China’s
rulers were being virtuous; that is what “tiananmien” means,
“heaven-peace-gate.” That is why, in 1989, Chinese students
specifically chose the square to insist that the Communist
authorities had lost the mandate, and why the military
massacred hundreds or thousands of students to show that it still
possessed it.
But how do rulers rule with virtue in a way that will keep
heaven and earth in balance? This became a major issue in the
500s BC, when the Zhou dynasty’s unity had descended into a
chaotic situation of dozens of small warring states. Why had
China gone to hell in a hand basket? Many people put forth
opinions on this, and the most persuasive was that of a man
called Kung Fuzi, known to Europeans as Confucius. Confucius
said that the Chinese had forgotten what had made them stable
and united during the early Zhou, a time when everyone knew
how they fit into the larger tapestry of Chinese society. For
Confucius, order was achieved when everyone understood how
they stood in relation to everyone else. There were five basic
relationships, and only the least important was a relationship of
equals, namely friend to friend. The other four were all
relationships in which one person had clear authority over
another: father over son, husband over wife, older brother over
younger brother, and, the most important, ruler over subject.
Those in a subservient position had to obey those in a position
of power absolutely and unquestioningly: if your older brother
told you to jump off the Bank of America Building, you had no
choice but to jump off the Bank of America Building. On the
other hand, those who had authority could only use that power
virtuously. It had to be for the greater good of all. Your older
brother could only jump off of the Bank of America Building if
it was in the best of interests of all concerned.
So how did you become virtuous? How did someone with

authority know what was in everyone’s best interest, how did he
know how to keep heaven and earth in balance? It was through
education. For Confucius, this meant reading books, like the I
Ching, that were already ancient when he was writing, and
which possessed the knowledge of the early Zhou, when China
was whole and stable and everyone knew their place. For
Confucius’s students, and other who would follow, it was also
reading Confucius’s books, and then, after a generation or two,
the books of his earlier disciples. If one read these books, one
would have the wisdom to be virtuous.
The Han would permanently united China again just before 200
BCE, and the new rulers needed a new ideology of rule. They
adopted Confucianism: they liked its stress on absolute
obedience, but the importance on education gave them the
chance to bring in advisors who were not hereditary nobles or
aristocrats. For the first time, examinations were used to fill
some government positions.
After the end of the Han, there were long periods when China
was disunited, but there was always the idea that there should
be a China, with an emperor who would keep heaven and earth
in balance. In the 600s, a new dynasty, the Sui, was able to
reunite all of China and made a tremendous innovation in how
China was governed, namely the ministry system. In world
history, a ministry has nothing to do with religion (well, one
does, as we’ll see), but is an institution through which
government functions are rationally organized and carried out.
Today, all governments have ministries, headed by ministers,
and in parliamentary systems, the head of the government is
called the prime minister; in the United States, we call them
departments, which are headed by secretaries. This, however,
was an innovation under the Sui. While some government
functions were rationally organized in different offices, there
had been no real effort to organize the entire state on this basis.
The six ministries of the Sui (a dynasty that did not last very

long) would be taken up by the Tang who succeeded them, and
then reconstructed by the Song dynasty in the 900s into the
longest-lasting state structure in human history, one that lasted
until 1911. Even when, twice, China was conquered by
outsiders, the victors kept the bureaucratic system, since it
worked so beautifully and rationally.
The six ministries were:
1) Personnel. This ministry decided where employees should
work. It rotated state employees on a regular basis. It promoted
and demoted state employees. It made sure state employees
were paid.
2) Revenue. This ministry made sure that taxes were
apportioned, that they were collected, and that they were
properly disbursed to the other ministries, so that everyone was
paid and that everything was paid for.
3) Rites. This ministry performed three main functions. One was
that, during the period of disunity between the Han and the Sui,
religious establishments, especially Buddhist monasteries, had
become very rich and powerful (much as we will see with the
church in Europe). It was decided that religion was too powerful
a force to be left to its practitioners, and all Buddhist and
Daoist priests and monasteries were licensed by the
government. Another, and possibly the major function, was that
it made sure all the religious ceremonies occurred when they
did, especially those that concerned the emperor. It was actually
a lot of work to keep heaven and earth in balance, especially to
always have to seem to be keeping heaven and earth in balance,
and immense chunks of emperors’ lives were absorbed with
ceremony. The Ministry of Rites was also responsible for
conducting the imperial examinations, about which there is
much more below.
4) Defense. This ministry made sure the army was paid, that
borders were defended, that generals did what they were told,

that fortifications were strong, and that, if some province did
not want to pay its taxes to the Ministry of Revenue, soldiers
would go to collect either the taxes or the rebels’ heads.
5) Justice. This ministry wrote laws, enforced the laws, and
prosecuted those who broke the laws.
6) Public Works. The Chinese government always recognized
the importance of infrastructure. You cannot have a functioning
economy, or a functioning military, if the roads are impassable,
if bridges fall down, if harbors silt up, if rivers flood at the
wrong time.
To fill these ministries, the Tang great expanded the concept of
the examination system that had first been pioneered by the
Han. While the system broke down at the end of the Tang, after
a few decades the Song, as they did with the ministries,
resurrected it, and made it far more important than it had ever
been.
To have any hope of an important government position, one had
to pass a grueling test that could take anywhere from one to
three days. Those taking the exam would gather in the
provincial capital, often in little cubicles where they were both
fed under the door, and had questions slipped under the door.
They would spend entire days answering one or two questions
that required an intimate knowledge of, and ability to quote a
great length from, the Confucian classics. Answers would then
be copied before being graded, so that the evaluators would not
be able to recognize any handwriting.
The effects of this system cannot be overstated. The Chinese
bureaucracy ended up being completely staffed by people who
had passed a grueling examination. They were thus very able.
More than that, to pass that exam, they had had to spend their
entire life reading the same books. These books all shared a
philosophy that stressed stability, obedience, hierarchy, and
order. It is difficult to imagine a better recipe for constructing a

bureaucracy that would last a thousand years.
On top of this, the Ministry of Personnel made sure that, once
an exam taker had received a position, he never served in his
home province, and that he was regularly transferred from one
province to another. Chinese bureaucrats needed to have only
one obligation, and that was to the state. They needed to be
removed from the demands of any social or family network,
whether ones they had grown up with, or others that would form
from staying too long in one place.
In general, the examination system and practice of rotation were
very effective in destroying the importance of any nobility in
China Nobilities develop when large landowners—often those
who had been granted land in return for governing a region—
passed on that land to their sons, along with the right to rule
that region. Everyone is related to them, and everyone owes
them something, and they can be very difficult for a central
government to work around. The examination system meant,
however, that any role in government demanded an ability to
pass the exam. While passing the exam generally required
wealth—an applicant had to come from a family where his labor
was not required in the field or the shop, and which could afford
tutors and books—wealth could not assure passing the
examination. No matter how great and powerful a family may
be, there will eventually be that generation where no one can
think their way out of a paper bag (think about the Hiltons).
Without someone in government, your family will have a hard
time defending itself. Since more people passed the
examinations than there were jobs for, even local government
positions came to demand that qualification. If your family had
no one determining local taxes or deciding which roads and
canals were repaired, the very bases of your family’s wealth
would erode. This is how the gentry arose: a wealthy
landowning class whose power depended more on education
than on birth. Their importance depended on the state instead of
opposing the state; the class that produced constant opposition
to central power in Europe in the Middle Ages was instead

submissive; indeed, a condition of its position was educating
itself to respect the authority of those above them.
There were other effects of the enshrinement of Confucianism
as the official belief system. One was directly related to the
examination system: the Chinese invented the printing press to
mass manufacture the books that were needed to study for the
exams. Another was the Confucian social hierarchy. The gentry
put itself on top, but then valued those who actively produced
things, first the peasants, then the artisans. Merchants, who
depended only on the labor of others, were at the bottom, a
necessary evil but not a respected one. Below them, however,
was the military. The violence and chaos of war was the
opposite of good Confucian values, and despite all the efforts of
the Ministry of Defense, the army never received a great deal of
respect. This is one reason that China, which so dominated its
neighbors, was easily conquered twice during the period of this
course by smaller groups of men on horseback coming out of
the north.
Fine Arts and Music Collection
Angelicoussis, Elizabeth. "Diomedes and Diskobolus: among
the collection of classical sculpture belonging to the 1st
Marquess of Lansdowne was a Roman copy of a lost bronze of
Diskobolus by the Greek sculptor Myron. Excavated by the
dealer Gavin Hamilton in 1774, the marble's fascinating story
has much to reveal about late 18th-century
collecting."Apollo May 2011: 46+. Fine Arts and Music
Collection. Web. 31 Mar. 2016.
URL
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA257433646&v=
2.1&u=cuny_queensboro&it=r&p=PPFA&sw=w
Diomedes and Diskobolus: among the collection of classical
sculpture belonging to the 1st Marquess of Lansdowne was a
Roman copy of a lost bronze of Diskobolus by the Greek
sculptor Myron. Excavated by the dealer Gavin Hamilton in
1774, the marble's fascinating story has much to reveal about

late 18th-century collecting
Elizabeth Angelicoussis
Apollo. 173.587 (May 2011): p46.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2011 Apollo Magazine Ltd.
Full Text:
The classical sculpture that was amassed by the 1st Marquess of
Lansdowne, William Petty-Fitzmaurice (1737-1805), in the late
18th century comprised one of the finest antiquarian collections
in England at the time. (1) A former Prime Minister and 2nd
Earl of Shelburne, the Marquess was responsible for gathering
together an amazing ensemble that included some exceptional
statuary. Many of the pieces had been excavated in Rome by the
Scottish dealer and artist, Gavin Hamilton. (2) The collection
was displayed in Lansdowne House, Berkeley Square, in grand
rooms purposely designed as showcases (Fig. 2).
In 1930, in the middle of the Great Depression, Christie's,
London, auctioned most of Lansdowne's treasures. (3) Many
now reside in prestigious museums; yet the statue of Diomedes
remained unsold (Fig. 1). (4) Lack of interest in this two-thirds-
lifesize sculpture may be explained by its substantial 18th-
century repairs, which have given the marble a disagreeable
appearance. However, the sculpture does still contain a
respectable Roman fragment of a celebrated Greek masterpiece.
Moreover, the story of its repair offers a fascinating insight into
the late 18th-century approach toward restoration, the
salesmanship of dealers and the tastes of their clientele.
It is hoped that this article's examination of this particular
distinctive Lansdowne sculpture and its interesting history will
stimulate awareness in a new book, developed by this author in
conjunction with Ian Jenkins, Senior Curator of Greek and
Roman Antiquities at the British Museum and Daniella Ben-
Arie, co-curator of the 2008 Thomas Hope exhibition at the
Victoria and Albert Museum. The book aims to rediscover,
examine, photograph and interpret the once coherent group of
Lansdowne sculptures that is now widely dispersed across the
globe.

In 1774 Gavin Hamilton unearthed a 1.15-metre-high torso at
the Terme di Porta Marina on the coast of Ostia. (5) He
immediately recognised its artistic merit, but knew that only
complete statues attracted the best buyers and prices. Thus
compelled to repair the marble, be employed the highly
respected atelier of the sculptor Bartolomeo Cavaceppi, and the
sculpture's seven-month restoration was completed in 1775.
Today we recognise this torso as a copy of the famous lost
bronze of a discus-thrower by the mid-fifth-century BC Greek
sculptor Myron (Fig. 4). (6) But when Hamilton discovered the
fragment, Myron's masterpiece was not yet known, and
therefore could not offer itself as a model. (7) Although the
surviving torso provided some guidelines as to the figure's pose,
considerable interpretive flexibility still remained.
[FIGURE 1 OMITTED]
[FIGURE 2 OMITTED]
An unsatisfying completion of a similar fragment of a fallen
warrior was made by Pietro Stefano Monnot (Fig. 6). (8) In a
letter to the collector Charles Townley, Hamilton criticised
Monnot's work, writing that his own newly discovered marble
had a duplicate 'in the character of a Gladiator, but as this
fragment is very imperfect, and a mere Torso, this able sculptor
was led into a mistake of restoring it as a lying figure'. (9)
Hamilton understood that his torso would have come from an
upright but slightly stooped figure (his workmen nicknamed the
piece 'gobbo' or hunchback).
Of course, Hamilton's decisions were also influenced by his
own commercial interest. In his first mention to Townley of the
completed work, Hamilton wrote that the statue had a perfect
match in a Lansdowne marble he had already sold to his
lordship (Fig. 5): 'It is liker the Cincinnatus of Lord Shelburne
that anything elce I know.' Clearly, from the outset, the
Scotsman had a specific client in mind.
For the subject, Hamilton selected an epic Greek episode: the
Rape of the Palladion. According to this legend, during the
siege of Troy, Diomedes, accompanied by Odysseus, stole the

sacred image of Athena, the loss of which would cause the city
to fall. Odysseus, who plotted to claim the prize for himself,
attempted to stab his companion in the back. Sensing danger,
Diomedes, weapon in hand, turned around and averted the
attack, thus demonstrating great valour in the face of adversity.
At first glance, Hamilton's choice may seem puzzling.
Anticipating objections from Townley, he wrote, 'You will ask
me why I call it a Diomed, I answer because I have proved
every thing elce absurd'. Later, while trying to entice
Lansdowne to buy it, Hamilton was equally flippant: 'Your
Lordship will ask me why I suppose this statue to be a
Diomedes. I answer because it would be to the last degree
absurd to suppose it anything else.'
[FIGURE 3 OMITTED]
[FIGURE 4 OMITTED]
[FIGURE 5 OMITTED]
[Image Omitted: ZI-0PAL-2011-MAY00-IDSI-26-1.JPG ]
[FIGURE 6 OMITTED]
Yet Hamilton's selection of this subject was not arbitrary. In
classical art the Rape of the Palladion occurs in a variety of
media: painting, sculpture and metalwork. (10) It was also a
favourite of ancient gem-carvers and frequently appears in 18th-
century compendia of this art form. The 1724 publication of
Baron Philipp von Stosch's collection, Gemmae antiquae
caelatae sculptorum nominibus insignitae, devoted several
engravings to the theme (Fig. 3). In 1755 J. J. Winckelmann--
the so-called 'father of archaeology'--addressed the motif in an
essay entitled 'Reflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the
Greeks', which analyses the various stances of Diomedes. (11)
He explored still more examples in 'Description des pierres
gravees du feu Baron de Stosch' (1760). Illustrations show the
hero standing, sitting, poised to leap with one leg flexed behind
him, and armed with a dagger. The importance of the theme was
further highlighted when the prominent archaeologist Comte de
Caylus included it as suitable for representation in his 'Tableaux
tires de l'Iliade, de l'Odyssee et de l'Eneide' (1757).

In 1772 the Swedish neo-classical sculptor Johan Tobais Sergel
made a powerful impact on Rome's cognoscenti with his statue
of Diomedes (Fig. 7). (12) The hero appears, head and body
turned to the right with sword drawn, ready to repel his enemy.
This marble was widely admired and contemporary accounts
deemed the Swede's work 'as good as the Greeks'. (13)
With his rigorous classical education, Hamilton himself was all
too familiar with Greek mythology. He plundered antiquity's
legends--particularly the heroes of The Iliad--as themes for his
own paintings, replete with all the dramatic gestures. (14)
Amid these many influences and examples, Hamilton quite
understandably chose Diomedes as the subject for Cavaceppi's
repair. The aim was to capture the heroic essence of his action
so that the animated pose would complement that of
Lansdowne's Cincinnatus, making the sculpture irresistible to
the collector. Crucially, the Marquess had admired Sergel's
Diomedes when he visited Rome in 1771; indeed, he had even
made efforts to secure the services of the Swedish artist. (15)
Following clues gleaned from the remains, converting the torso
into Diomedes was relatively easy; the musculature of the neck
required a head that was turned to the right. Hamilton selected
an ancient head of a 'greek hero'--so styled because of the man's
furrowed brow and dishevelled hair. The torso also demanded
that the right leg step forward, while the left should be poised
behind, resting on the ball of the foot. The rotation of the right
shoulder showed that its arm ought to extend backward, and
Cavaceppi fashioned it so, with the hand gripping a dagger's
hilt. This defensive gesture, intrinsic to Diomedes' story, is also
found with other statues of warriors. (16) The position of the
torso's left shoulder indicated that its arm was originally
lowered, while the puntello (marble support) on the right knee
proved a point of contact. Cavaceppi therefore positioned the
hero's left arm over the knee, and placed Athena's figure in the
hand, where it fittingly provides the raison d'etre for the
sculptural drama. Lastly, to make the figure's affinity with the
Cincinnatus obvious to Lansdowne, a similar tree trunk support

and plinth were added.
It is evident from his correspondence with Townley that
Hamilton cloaked the restoration in secrecy--which provoked
the collector's curiosity and acquisitive instincts. Yet despite
Townley's keenness, Hamilton had no intention of selling him
this work, writing:
I never proposed to you my Diomed with
the Paladium.... If the present insieme
[Fig. 9] should raise your curiosity to
see a more correct drawing I will send it
you, & would even venture to send you
the original but I am afraid that its being
in your possession & refused by you will
prevent the sale to any body elce, upon
the whole I would advise you to keep
your money for acquisitions of greater
consequence.
In other words, Hamilton knew that Townley, a discriminating
antiquarian, would be dissatisfied with the restoration's
deficiencies; a less astute client would not.
According to preserved documents, Hamilton first mentioned
the marble to Lansdowne in a description just four months after
restoration was completed. The Scotsman teases his potential
customer by dangling a rare treasure before him and
embroidering the story of how he only just managed to sneak
the statue out of Italy:
I have never mentioned to your Lordship
one of the finest things I have ever had in
my possession, as I was not sure of getting
a license to send it out of Rome. Now that
I have it safe on board the Felucca for
Leghorn, I have ventured to recommend
it to your lordship as something singular
and uncommon.

[FIGURE 7 OMITTED]
In order to secure a speedy purchase, the dealer titillated
Lansdowne's taste for ancient heroes with a further 'sales pitch'.
He stressed that he was offering him a marble perfectly matched
to a prized statue already in his possession:
Your Lordship when in Rome mentioned
to me particularly subjects of this sort
as interesting to you, but besides the
subject, give me leave to add that the
subject is first rate and exactly the size
of the Cincinnatus to which I mean it
as a companion, being a Greek hero to
match the Roman.... The contrast will
add beauty to each.
[FIGURE 8 OMITTED]
Sceptics will say that the Marquess simply swallowed the bait.
But the Diomedes did, indeed, complement its companion
statue, offering visitors to Lansdowne House a pleasing and
balanced sculptural ensemble (Fig. 2). By the lights of his era,
the Marquess made an astute acquisition.
Every restoration offers a chance to assess the mind that is
behind the interpretation of an ancient fragment. In 1805 the
artist Henry Fuseli dismissed Hamilton, as one who:
had not perhaps the genius of an inventor
... [and] Though he was familiar with the
antique, [his] forms ... have neither its
correctness nor characteristic purity,
something of the modern eclectic
principle prevails in his work. (17)
[FIGURE 9 OMITTED]
Combining unrelated fragments in commercially motivated
'marriages of convenience' may rankle today's purists. However,
in the late 18th century a repair was considered acceptable as
long as it followed the evidence of the ancient remains. While
Hamilton's additions to the torso comprise little more than a

third of the whole, it is indisputable that they radically
transformed the subject from a figure in the act of athletic
prowess (Diskobolos) to one engaged in a wartime exploit
(Diomedes). Even so, the restoration is consistent with
contemporary knowledge of the figure type, and by the
standards of his era, the liberties Hamilton took were perfectly
acceptable.
Seen from the long perspective of art history, Hamilton's
approach to the Diomedes reveals a classically educated and
perceptive mind adept at identifying and drawing on varied
influences. Through his innovative blending of old with new,
the versatile Scot endowed a mete fragment with interest and
energy; and, as he boasted to both Lansdowne and Townley, the
action was 'new and singular'.
(1/) For surveys of the Lansdowne collection and the
construction of Lansdowne House with further bibliography see
J, Scott, The Pleasures of Antiquity. British Collectors of
Greece and Rome, New Haven and London, 2003, pp. 160-68; I.
Bignamini and C. Hornsby, Digging and Dealing in Eighteenth
Century Rome, New Haven and London, 2010, vol. I, pp. 321-
26. For Lansdowne's travel to Rome see J. Ingamells, A
Dictionary of British and Irish Travellers in Italy 1701-1800,
complied from the Brinsley Ford Archive, New Haven and
London, 1997, p. 852. For the Marquess see The Oxford
Dictionary of National Biography, online edn, May
2010, www.oxforddnb.com/view/ article/22070 (J. Cannon).
(2/) For the gentleman see Bignamini and Hornsby, op. cit., pp,
271-81.
(3/) 'Catalogue of the celebrated collection of ancient marbles
the pro-perty of the Most Honourable the Marquess of
Lansdowne', 5 March 1930.
(4/) For the marble see A. Michaelis, Ancient Marbles in Great
Britain, Cambridge, 1882, pp. 467-68, no. 89; C. Picon,
Cavaceppi, exh. cat., Claren don Gallery, London, 1983, pp. 22-
25 no. 1; S. Howard, Antiquity Restored: Essays on the
Afterlife of the Antique, Vienna, 1990, pp. 71-74; E. Bowron

and J. Rishel (eds.), Art in Rome in the Eighteenth Century,
exh. cat., Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2000, pp. 242-44, no.
121 (S. Howard).
(5/) See I. Bignamini, 'Ostia, Porto e Isola Sacra: scoperte e
scavidal Medioevo', Rivista Istitutio nazionale Arte e storia
dell'arte, vol. LVIII (2003), p. 48: while Hamilton was granted a
licence to excavate on 21 June 1774, he had started
unauthorised digging there at least two months earlier.
(6/) For a thorough discussion of the type see A. Anguissola,
'Roman copies of Myron's Discobolus', Journal of Roman
Archaeology, vol. XVIII (2005), pp. 317-36.
(7/) In the 17th and 18th centuries the name Diskobolos
described the statue of the Diskophoros, a standing figure
holding a discus by Naukydes of Argos. See F. Haskell and N.
Penny, Taste and the Antique. The Lure of Classical Sculpture
1500-1900, 2nd edn, New Haven and London, pp. 199-202, no.
32.
(8/) In 1734 Monnot's statue was acquired for the Capitoline
Museums, galleria no. 50. See H. Stuart Jones (ed.), The
Sculptures of the Museo Capitolino, Oxford, 1912, pp. 123-22,
no. 50, pl. 21.
(9/) Three letters from Hamilton to Townley and Lansdowne are
cited in this article. For the first undated letter from Hamilton
to Townley see Bignamini and Hornsby, op. cit., vol. II, p, 122,
no. 221. For the second letter from Hamilton to Townley, dated
28 November 1775, see ibid., vol. II, p. 78, no. 138. For the
third letter from Hamilton to Lansdowne, dated 25 March 1776,
see ibid, vol. II, p. 84, no. 151.
(10/) Lexicon Iconographum Mythologiae Classicae, Zurich and
Munich, 1986, vol. III, pp. 401-06, nos. 23-105, s.v. Diomedes I
(J. Boardman/C.E. Vafopoulou/ Richardson); J. M. Moret, Les
pierres gravees antiques representantle rapt du Palladion, Mainz
am Rhein, 1997.
(11/) Translated by Henry Fuseli. Originally published in 1755
as Gedanken uber der Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in

der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst.
(12/) National museum, Stockholm (NM SK 1475). For the
statue see The Age of Neo Classicism, exh, cat., Royal
Academy and Victoria and Albert Museum, 1972, pp. 279-81,
no. 436, pl. 75 (J. Kenworthy-Browne). Thomas Mansel Talbot,
having purchased antique marbles from Hamilton anal Jenkins,
acquired Sergel's marble in 1772--perhaps on the
recommendation of the Scotsman, See Bignamini and Hornsby,
op, cit., vol. I, p, 323.
(13/) N.L. Pressly, The Fuseli Circle in Rome: Early Romantic
Art of the 1770s, New Haven and London, 1979, p. 19.
(14/) Between 1760 and c. 1775 Hamilton executed six
paintings Illustrating scenes from The Iliad. For Hamilton's
enthusiasm for Homeric topics and the interpretation of the epic
tale in the 18th century see D. Irwin, 'Gavin Hamilton:
archaeologist, painter and dealer', Art Bulletin, vol. XLIV
(1962), pp. 92-96; D. Wieberson, 'Subjects from Homer's Iliad
in neoclassical art', Art Bulletin, vol. XLVI (1964), pp. 23-37;
J.L. Williams, Gavin Hamilton 1723-1798, Edinburgh, 1994;
Bowron and Rishel, op. cit., pp. 380-82, no. 231 (J.L. Seydl).
(15/) Lansdowne was in Rome between August and October
1771: see Ingamells, op. cit., p. 852. For Lansdowne's
solicitation of Sergel's services see Editor's note, Burlington
Magazine, vol. LXXX, no. 469 (April 1942), pp. 81-82.
(16/) Compare with the kneeling Persian previously in the
Palazzo Giustiniani and now in the Museo Torlonia: G. Fusconi
(ed.), 1 Giustinianie l'Antico, exh. cat., Palazzo Fontana di
Trevi, 2001, vol. I, p. 550, pl. 118; A. Stewart, Attalos, Athens,
and the Akropohs. The Pergame 'Little Barbarians' and their
Roman and Renaissance Legacy, Cambridge and New York,
2004, p. 301, no. 4, 309, no. 11, fig. 65. It was certainly known
to Hamilton, since Cavaceppi had been involved with the
dispersal of this collection in 1771. See also the Kneeling,
Fighting Persian (Capitoline Museums Galleria dei Candelabri)
of the 'Little Barbarians' group. The work was first noted in the

Villa Medici Madama and then in the Giustiniani collection
from at least 1638 until 177I, when the Vatican acquired it
through Cavaceppi. See Stewart, op. cit., pp. 69, 86, 88 and
296, no. 3.
(17/) An Illustrative Supplement to Pilkington's Dictionary of
Painters (privately printed), London, 1805, amended and
updated by H. Fuseli, p. 674 (entry on Gavin Hamilton).
Elizabeth Angelicoussis specialises in ancient art in private
British collections.
Angelicoussis, Elizabeth
Source Citation (MLA 7th Edition)
Angelicoussis, Elizabeth. "Diomedes and Diskobolus: among
the collection of classical sculpture belonging to the 1st
Marquess of Lansdowne was a Roman copy of a lost bronze of
Diskobolus by the Greek sculptor Myron. Excavated by the
dealer Gavin Hamilton in 1774, the marble's fascinating story
has much to reveal about late 18th-century
collecting."Apollo May 2011: 46+. Fine Arts and Music
URL
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA257433646&v=
2.1&u=cuny_queensboro&it=r&p=PPFA&sw=w
Gale Document Number: GALE|A257433646
Copyright and Terms of Use:
http://www.gale.com/epcopyright
Fine Arts and Music Collection
Dudar, Helen. "The Grandeur That Was Rome - A new
exhibition at the philadelphia museum of art showcases the
eternal city as the artistic and cultural capital of 18th-century
europe." Smithsonian Apr. 2000: 82. Fine Arts and Music
URL

http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA60591326&v=2.
1&u=cuny_queensboro&it=r&p=PPFA&sw=w
The Grandeur That Was Rome - A new exhibition at the
philadelphia museum of art showcases the eternal city as the
artistic and cultural capital of 18th-century europe
Helen Dudar
Smithsonian. 31.1 (Apr. 2000): p82.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2000 Smithsonian Institution
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/
Full Text:
We might begin with a meditation on the baroque audacity
required to explore an entire century of art as a single museum
event. Is it a unique form of institutional folly? Or might it be a
venture so brave that it is doomed to success?
Without a visible tremor, a scholarly team at the Philadelphia
Museum of Art has set aside great expanses of wall and floor
space to celebrate the 18th century-and to demonstrate that in
much of that time the true art capital of the Western world was
the city of Rome.
The exhibition, "The Splendor of 18th-Century Rome," will be
on view in Philadelphia from March 16 to May 28 and will then
move on to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, June 25 to
September 17. It is sponsored in part by Advanta and the
American Water Works Company, Inc.
Until fairly recently, the notion of the artistic supremacy of
18th- century Rome has carried weight for little more than a
small, lonely band of enthusiasts and historians. Even now the
community of true believers is hardly overpopulated. France has
dominated the academic narrative since the 19th century, when
it nurtured crops of major schools of art that flowered
seductively into Impressionism.
The pro-Rome contingent takes the position that the French,
having occupied Rome after the Napoleonic conquest at the
close of the 18th century, slyly managed to distort the record so
that their importance edged backward into an age that did not
belong to them. As Joseph Rishel, the museum's senior curator

of pre-1900 European painting and sculpture, puts it, "In the
literature, the general conception is that Italy is the dozy, sleepy
place, as opposed to Paris as the great surging, energetic artistic
center."
Now, to be sure, as the papal city, Rome had always attracted
large numbers of the devout as well as streams of cultural
explorers. But what Rishel is talking about is Rome as a
magnet, a lure for traveling royalty and aristocrats, for untitled
but importantly monied travelers, for writers hoping to enlarge
their experience of the world in a city simmering with talent
and, above all, for artists in quest of education, polish,
recognition and clients. The rule laid down by Dr. Samuel
Johnson in 1776 was unequivocal: "A man who has not been in
Italy is always conscious of an inferiority."
In Europe, the 1700s were a time of relative prosperity and,
more significantly, peace, which toward the end of the century
would be shattered by Napoleon. In the decades before the
appearance of the Napoleonic forces, Rome became the focus of
what was grandiosely labeled the "Grand Tour."
Reaching the city in 1786 for the first of two long stays, Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe, at 37 already a major literary figure in
his native Germany, recorded the thrill of his entry: "Now, at
last, I have arrived in the First City of the World!"
He was a ravenous sightseer, overwhelmed by the glories of a
fabled city, by the "palaces, ruins, gardens, wildernesses, small
houses, stables, triumphal arches, columns." He appears to have
visited them all and to have loved almost everything he saw.
An outing to the Vatican Museum found Goethe "swept...off my
feet" by the sight of the cool, elegantly muscular Apollo
Belvedere. An antique Roman copy of the Greek god, it was, in
that day, considered a supreme masterwork. Goethe confessed
himself "obsessed" by the piece. He was equally enthralled by
the Pantheon, the great domed house of worship that had
survived since ancient Rome. But, above all, he was held
captive by the Sistine Chapel.
In fact, he seemed driven to return to the chapel again and again

to feast on Michelangelo's Last Judgment. It was easier to be a
culture vulture in Goethe's day than in these fevered, tour-
guided, rigidly scheduled times. By tipping the custodian, he
and his friends were allowed in whenever they liked. Sometimes
he carried a snack to sustain him while he nourished his
sensibilities on the glories of Michelangelo's genius. Once,
exhausted by the demands of tourism, he managed a nap on the
papal throne.
In our day, we arrive by plane or speed into the city by train or
bus or hired car for an arduous week of sight-seeing.
Eighteenth-century tourists to Italy arrived by ship or made the
bone-rattling trip by chaise or carriage over cruel roads and, if
they were fortunate, were carried across the Alps in a sedan
chair.
It may sound a bit harsh, but with sufficient wealth, no tourist
wanted for life's necessities. In 1704, the prominent architect
Lord Burlington, traveling from England, reached the city with
a party of 15 retainers to see to all his needs; the entourage
included a doctor, an artist, a groom, a cook, a tutor and a
bookkeeper.
Like Lord Burlington, most of the Grand Tourists were British.
They usually stayed for months, meeting the stellar literary
figures in residence, making their way through elegant art-filled
palazzi (which were not yet public museums, as many are
today), examining breathtaking collections of ancient sculpture
and stalking the spectacular treasures of the Vatican. Artists
who came to study would often stay a few years and sometimes
forever. In Rome, "I live like a gentleman," the British sculptor
John Deare wrote his family, to explain why he was not coming
home.
For young painters and sculptors in quest of guidance and
inspiration, the city was a rich source of learning as well as an
education in worldly matters. In one way, old Rome was not
unlike modern Manhattan; every other resident seemed to be
from some other place-from other Italian towns and cities
(Antonio Canova of Venice), from England (Sir Joshua

Reynolds, Gavin Hamilton), France (Jacques-Louis David,
Claude- Joseph Vernet, Jean-Honore Fragonard), Switzerland
(Angelika Kauffmann, Henry Fuseli), or Germany (Wilhelm
Tischbein, Anton Raphael Mengs). Even Colonial America sent
off the young Benjamin West for an education in painting,
which he would go on to perfect during a lifelong residence in
England.
There were more than enough institutions of learning to
accommodate an aspiring young artist, including a school
specializing in the nude, a boon to artists who hoped to
concentrate on images of the human figure. Arriving from
Germany in 1779, Tisch-bein counted ten private teaching
academies in the city. The same year, the talented young
Canova, who would become one of the stellar sculptors of the
age, checked out the city's official academy and found himself
struggling for air in a studio crammed with more than 150
students, a setting so stifling that he was finally compelled to
flee.
With peace and wealth, the popes and the city's monied classes
dedicated themselves to sprucing up or creating major
monuments. Old family palaces were renewed and embellished;
the unabashedly melodramatic Trevi Fountain was given life
and liquid; the Spanish Steps were built, and the square
bordering them became the neighborhood where British
residents and tourists liked to hang out.
To be sure, beauty did not invade every corner of Rome. Samuel
Powel, a Philadelphian who would one day be his city's mayor,
toured the sumptuously decorated Barberini Palace and
complained that the place was dirty and nasty. He was not
alone; there were tourist laments about the unclean look of
much of the city. In those days, city travel depended on horses,
which are not famous for their sanitary habits. On the other
hand, Rome was spared the contemporary curse of incessantly
snarling motorcycles and gasoline fumes.
Today, a trip abroad without a camera is almost unimaginable.
For the 18th-century traveler of means, a souvenir of a visit was

a costlier substitute-perhaps a portrait in a glamorized urban or
country setting, preferably set down on canvas by a "name"
artist. In nearly 50 years of labor in Rome, for example,
Pompeo Batoni, a native of the Tuscan town of Lucca, became
one of Europe's most celebrated portrait painters, turning out
some 200 likenesses of British subjects. Often his art might
include an image of a cute pet dog. Batoni's commercial labors
for tourists paid the rent but did not gild his local reputation,
which was enhanced by his paintings of more "serious" subjects
such as history and mythology.
In one respect, tourists then were hardly different from modern
visitors. They ran through Italy "knick-knackically," in one
traveler's mocking phrase, and they carried home, as British
author Horace Walpole noted in an account of his souvenir
collection, "medals, lamps, idols, prints." Walpole confessed to
an even grander want: "I would buy the Coliseum if I could."
If one's baggage did not include a portrait, it might carry a
brilliantly faked replica of antiquity. Yesterday, as today, the
remains of Rome's great ancient civilizations held visitors in
thrall. The big-league producer of these souvenir items was
Bartolomeo Cavaceppi, who was kept busy and made rich by an
affluent and enthusiastic international clientele.
Cavaceppi's studio was staffed with skilled helpers
energetically turning out copies of important classical pieces
and restoring, not always accurately, genuine antiques that had
lately been unearthed. Archaeological excavations and newly
dug foundations regularly yielded large and small memorabilia
of antiquity, as indeed they continue to do in our day.
Still another obligatory purchase was a fine print of a view of
Rome or its outskirts as seen or even imagined by the prolific
Giovanni Battista Piranesi, a transplant from Venice. Piranesi
was an architect who, failing to find sustaining building
projects, took up etching. Over a 40-year period, he produced
some of the most potent, vividly detailed and occasionally
fantasized images of the modern and ancient city.
In a way, Philadelphia's show is the climax of decades of

insider talk. It is also a kind of homage to a scholar who was an
early, sometimes isolated partisan of the period: Anthony
Morris Clark, a big bear of a man with a matching personality,
who amassed a trove of 18th-century works during decades of
art-hunting.
Although Clark's last curatorial position was at the Metropolitan
Museum of Art, the executor of his estate decided that what
remained of the collection after the paintings had been sold-378
old master drawings, 204 period prints and assorted other
objects-should go to the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
The museum exhibited them in 1980, but that hardly approached
full coverage of the subject. Rishel, a former colleague of
Clark's, says those who strongly supported Clark's position
found themselves "wandering around saying we really should
carry through on what he never did-a full show of his subject."
Toward that end, the Philadelphia curators, together with an
international team of scholars, have assembled more than 424
works by more than 160 artists, from museums and private
collections that span our continent and much of Europe, along
with some opulent pieces of furniture and decorative objects
whose designers are unknown. In addition to Rishel, the
Philadelphia organizers of the exhibition include Ann Percy,
curator of drawings, and Dean Walker, senior curator of
European decorative arts and sculpture.
One of the ironies of this show is that it is punctuated with the
works of artists who were once household names and are now
almost totally unfamiliar. For example, the museum walls offer
four elegant drawings by Carlo Maratti. In a catalogue essay,
Edgar Peters Bowron, a curator at the Museum of Fine Arts,
Houston, tells us that at the start of the century Maratti was "the
most influential artist in Rome-indeed...in all of Europe...."
Among other important roles, he was first painter to a French
king and to seven popes. Today, outside of Italy, you'll rarely
find a major Maratti painting in a public collection.
It may also be difficult to discover a dedicated museumgoer
who longs for the sight of works from the hand of Giuseppe

Cades, a man who in his day, Bowron tells us, "turned heads
with his seemingly effortless ability to paint and draw . . . in
every style from Baroque to Romanticism. . . ." But Cades'
handsome oils and drawings may, at least, be seen in some
major institutions, and eight are in the show.
An entire gallery has been dedicated to Piranesi's prints,
drawings and books-more than 50 of them. He is, after all, the
man who showed all Europe the splendors of old and new Rome.
If you lacked the means or the time to travel to Italy, you might
invest your dreams in one of Piranesi's affordable architectural
images. If you were visiting the city, you probably found your
way to his engraving shop on the Corso. Some of his images,
especially a famous prison series, are chillingly eerie; but a fair
number are romantic fantasies or, at least, joyous exaggerations.
Probably the most spectacular detours from real life are the
invented views of Giovanni Panini. On commission from a
French count who was on a diplomatic mission to Rome, he
produced four canvases about art and the city; they are large,
show-offy and fun. The exhibition has two of them: the vast
interior of a picture gallery crammed with paintings of modern
Rome and a second work showing a big space thick with images
of old Rome. Each interior is a soaring space hung from floor to
ceiling with paintings, dotted with important sculptures and
populated by small parties of connoisseurs as well as artists
turning out copies. Another Panini, this one taken from life, is
of the interior of that great domed monument of old Rome, the
Pantheon.
The busy hand of Pompeo Batoni provides 22 paintings and
drawings ranging over many of the subjects-antiquity,
mythology, Christianity- that engaged artists of that day. Of
course there are also portraits, including the requisite British
subject-Lady Mary Fox, for instance, gowned in blue, gazing
winningly at the viewer, and cradling...yes, an adorable dog.
The show has four pieces by Angelika Kauffmann, a rare figure
in her time and for many decades to come. A Swiss, she had
learned the fundamentals of art from her father, a church mural

painter, then studied in Rome and spent a number of years in
London as a popular portrait artist. After a brief, bad marriage,
she met and married the Italian painter Antonio Zucchi and
returned to Rome for much of the rest of her life. A sharp
intellect clearly went with the gifts of hand and eye. She was a
friend of Goethe during his two Roman stays and an intimate of
Johann Joachim Winckelmann, the great German scholar who
became curator of the Vatican's collection of antiquities and
transformed the study of archaeology into a scholarly discipline.
One of the four Kauffmann pieces on view is an invincibly
flattering self-portrait of a pretty young woman making a major
life decision. Kauffmann was apparently gifted in two
directions: the painting shows her saying a fond farewell to a
disappointed muse of music (score in hand) and turning toward
the figure offering her an artist's palette.
The show has five pieces by Antonio Canova, who settled in
Rome in 1780, when he was in his mid-20's, just in time to help
send the long- favored Baroque style into oblivion. Like many
of his fellow sculptors, Canova was inspired by the antique
Greek and Roman pieces he encountered and became the leading
exponent of the neoclassical style.
One of the museum's major triumphs is a rare loan from St.
Petersburg's State Hermitage Museum-a grand, neoclassical yet
sentimental piece called Cupid and Psyche, which Canova
chipped out of marble for the Empress Josephine in the days of
her husband's reign. With lifted pinky, young Psyche is
delicately placing a butterfly, the symbol of the soul, in Cupid's
hand.
In Rome of those days, when the reigning pope needed an artist
to restore an antiquity, the man to summon was Bartolomeo
Cavaceppi. One of the most striking pieces to come out of his
studio is a marble figure labeled Myron's Diskobolos Restored
as Diomedes with the Palladion. Diomedes was a Greek hero
who stole the idol of the gods from Troy, but any contemporary
museumgoer will recognize the torso of the figure as a copy of
Myron's great, oft-imitated work, known also as the Discus

Thrower.
The Diomedes is a brilliant example of a custom of the time:
completing a fragment with other fragments, old and new. It
was the Rome-dwelling British painter Gavin Hamilton who
found the torso and gave Cavaceppi the idea for making it
whole. This was done by placing on the body an ancient head
that, to an expert's eye, is plainly from another period. To
complete the piece, many additions of new materials were also
provided, including the right leg from the knee down and the
left leg from the middle of the shin down.
One of the strangest pieces to come out of the Cavaceppi atelier
in multiples was Boy on a Dolphin. It shows us a plump toddler
tragically impaled by a dolphin's fin. At least six versions of the
sculpture in several sizes were sold to English, Irish, French
and Russian clients. Cavaceppi claimed that two centuries
earlier it had been designed by the great Renaissance painter
Raphael and executed by the sculptor Lorenzetto.
The exhibition, which begins with some beguiling period maps
showing the city as it looked two and a half centuries ago, ends
with an appropriate celebration. We don't think of Rome as a
carnival town, but periodically this seat of faith and intellect
exploded for the sake of shared pleasure. There were street
entertainments, carnivals and fireworks. Horses were raced
down the crowded Corso, then as now a main thoroughfare.
Grand palace salons were jammed with fancy dress balls. As
Goethe described it in a long diary passage, at carnival time
"the most serious-minded Roman...throws dignity and prudence
to the winds."
No, the Philadelphia Museum of Art is not scattering prudence
in any direction, but in homage to those festivals, the entrance
to the show is festooned with banners and the final gallery
offers some art that shows Rome having a wonderful time.
Frequent contributor Helen Dudar writes on the arts from her
home in New York City.
Source Citation (MLA 7th Edition)
Dudar, Helen. "The Grandeur That Was Rome - A new

exhibition at the philadelphia museum of art showcases the
eternal city as the artistic and cultural capital of 18th-century
europe." Smithsonian Apr. 2000: 82. Fine Arts and Music
URL
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Please also put the images at the end of your paper with the
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end of sentence where you want to insert a
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Difference Between Footnotes and Bibliography
Location of Footnotes Location & Format
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In this example above, we see a shorter footnote as the writer
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You are writing a paper about the Woman of Willendorf. Your
thesis is:
Although it is difficult to establish the meaning of the
Women of Willendof with absolute certainty due to the age of
the object, it is most plausible that this Paleolithic sculpture has
some connection with fertility.
You have found 5 possible sources in your research thus far
Each student should read at least two sources
Gather as a group and go around in a circle. Each student should

share why they selected or rejected their two sources
As a group, decide which sources you will use
On the board write a Bibliography page with the sources in the
Chicago style
On the board also write a notes page in the Chicago style
A different student should write each entry in the Bibliography
and each entry on the notes page
*
*
*
*

*
*
*
*
*
*
You are writing your research paper for the course about the
Woman of Willendorf.

Please select one thesis for your paper.
Why did you select this thesis and reject the others?
Please explain why you rejected at least two of the other
options.
1. Paleolithic hunters and gatherers made small sculptures
because they were nomadic.
2. The Woman of Willendorf is a small sculpture that was
made by Paleolithic hunters and gatherers.
3. The form, scale and material of the Woman of
Willendorf can most easily be explained by the fact that she was
created by Paleolithic hunters and gatherers who were a
nomadic people.
4. The Woman of Willendorf is just one of many figures of
nude women from the Paleolithic period, most of which are
somewhat leaner.
5. Although it is difficult to establish the meaning of the
Women of Willendof with absolute certainty due to the age of
the object, it is most plausible that this Paleolithic sculpture has
some connection with fertility.
6. Ideals of beauty in contemporary Willendorf, Austria
are different than those of the Paleolithic people who inhabited
the region around 25,000 BCE.
NOW … Write down one or two ideas you have for a thesis for
your actual paper topic
*

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