On our last full day in Sicily, we wound our way up the road to Mount Etna.  The ski resort there wasn’t exactly what I had imagined for Aetna, the volcanic forge of Hephaestus and his cyclopean servants, positioned above the monstrous, flame-spewing Typhon.  I mean, it’s still an active volcano now!  Come on, people.  The entire image of the place just seemed so far removed from the classical representation of raw destructive power.  In a world where its volcanic rock is utilized for construction in the nearby Catania, it seems that Etna is no longer the fearsome icon it used to be.

In Syracuse, the group went to an archaeological park that housed a Greek theater later modified by the Romans.  This theater highlighted some of the differences between Greek and Roman construction and culture.  First, just like we witnessed in the other Greek theater at Segesta, this theater would have had amazing acoustics, allowing the entire audience to hear the performers clearly.  And speaking of engineering, this theater was carved right out of the hillside according to the Greek custom.  The Romans, on the other hand, didn’t need to do this because of their superior engineering.  In general, the Romans used this skill to distinguish themselves from the Greeks with more grandiose theaters.  For example, instead of the modest Greek σκηνη (scene or set), the Romans made the permanent scaenae frons, which would have blocked out the natural backdrop with its multiple stories.  In the case of this theater specifically, the Roman set would have blocked out the ocean backdrop (which is ironically now blocked by trees).  The Romans were also much more concerned with effects.  In this theater, the Romans added a hole or trapdoor in the orchestra from which actors could make surprise entrances or various other effects could be produced.  This theater helps to directly contrast Greek and Roman theater construction and practices.

All of the classical temples that we saw on our trip across the island were of the Doric order.  Only in the remaining two columns of the Roman amphitheater in Catania did we even see any use of the Ionic in a classical structure.  However, much of the later architecture (medieval, baroque, and neoclassical) that we saw in the cities and towns often employed the Ionic, Corinthian, or a modified Doric.  When we visited Noto, I became very curious as to why such styles would spring up without having much apparent precedent in previous Greek Sicilian monuments.  It seems that the styles, instead of evolving in Sicily along with the rest of the formerly Greco-Roman world, were αimported from elsewhere in Europe.  It is given that the many peoples who dominated the island at one time or another brought with them their own aesthetics, including of architecture, but this constant domination denied, to some extent, the development of a uniquely Sicilian architecture.

To explain it another way, the various architectural movements mentioned above were defined by certain by certain characteristics that the orders embodied.  For example, the baroque was all about being showy and grand, so the solid and monumental Doric was probably less appropriate than the Ionic or Corinthian.  Additionally, medieval architecture was all about achieving height and light, and the thick, imposing Doric columns might have counteracted this effect.  Whichever way we explain it, the lack of standard Doric columns in later architecture reveals the extent of Sicily’s cultural domination in its obedience to standards and its apparent inability to develop a style of its own after the time of the Normans, despite the many cultures represented there.

We learned in the Valley of the Temples in Agrigento that the Temple of Olympian Zeus there was extremely unique in Sicily and the larger Greek world.  Of the Doric order, the temple itself would have been enormous if completed, measuring fourteen columns long by seven columns wide.  This would have made it the largest Doric temple ever built.  The monstrous monument likely commemorated the victory of Akragas (Agrigento) over Carthage in the battle of Himera (~480 BC), which definitely would have been a great accomplishment for the comparatively small city and its allies.  Returning to the details of the temple itself, the odd width in columns would have been extremely uncommon since it would have caused there to be two separate entrances.   Additionally, unlike any other temple we saw on the trip, the columns were (supposed to be) engaged with a wall, presumably what would have formed the entrance or entrances in a more natural way.

We also learned about the telamones, or giants, which would have been extremely unusual features on a Greek temple.  Other than in the case of caryatid columns, figures were not known to be incorporated into the temple façade in such a way.  And for those of us who had read any of the Iliad, we immediately recognized the root τελαμων, -οντος in the name of Ajax’s father, the hero Telamon (Τελαμων).  Professor Boyd explained that τελαμων means “bearing” or “enduring,” which helps to characterize Telamon and his lineage, especially Ajax, who is extremely strong (enduring) and nearly a giant himself.  Ajax’s patronymic actually helps to define his character.

At the acropolis at Selinunte, we were able to see a mosaic of the Carthaginian goddess Tanit, who was in charge of fertility and, by extension, prosperity.  This simple mosaic likely served as the entrance to somebody’s house, maybe the home of a Carthaginian merchant in Selinunte hoping to earn the goddess’ favor for his business.  What might have been most interesting to us classicists as students of mythology is that Tanit was often conflated with goddesses from other religions, such as the Greek and Roman Juno and the Near Eastern Ishtar (Astarte in the Hellenic world).  All three goddesses are roughly concerned with fertility, but the combination of them made it so that a) Hera or Juno presided over more than they were originally intended to, and b) people in the Greco-Roman world might not have really been worshipping their true deities all of the time, since both Tanit and Ishtar were more than just goddesses of fertility (as was Juno).  Additionally, Ishtar, a goddess of sexuality, too, was also often combined with Venus.  Therefore, when the religions came together, the lines between the Greek gods themselves could have become blurred.