Davies, Complications in The Stylistic Analysis of Egyptian Art. A Look at The Small Temple of Medinet Habu PDF

Collection Ægyptiaca Leodiensia 10
(Re)productive Traditions
in Ancient Egypt
Proceedings of the conference held at the University of Liège,
6th-8th February 2013
Todd GILLEN (ed.)
Presses Universitaires de Liège

2017
Complications in the stylistic analysis of Egyptian art
A look at the Small Temple of Medinet Habu
Vanessa DAVIES
University of California, Berkeley
1. INTRODUCTION
Modern analyses of Egyptian art often place the art or artists within the larger context of the Egyptian
artistic tradition.1 In the copying of motifs or the reuse of color palettes from one tomb to another, one
sees an awareness and a borrowing of earlier traditions. When art and texts reproduce earlier patterns
and styles, they make purposeful connections to the older forms.2 In the most dramatic departure
from artistic canons, that of Amarna-era art, there is still a recognition of and adherence to tradition
in the crowns and regalia of the king and queen, and the new mode of depiction has been recently
reconsidered not as a break from the past, but as a continuation of older trends.3
Egyptology has its own tradition of analysis of artistic scenes that considers widths and lengths of
shapes, the placement of lines, and the level and type of detail in an image. Rooted in the work of
Giovanni Morelli, these types of stylistic analyses, or studies of artists’ hands, have helped
Egyptologists construct frameworks based on chronology and geography, and undated and
fragmentary pieces can then be placed within those frameworks.4 We discover in Egyptian art and in
related textual sources clues about the artists: their training, their labor organization, the ways that
they carried out their work, and their relationships to one another and to the individuals who
commissioned their work. Together, these lines of inquiry have elucidated much about the ways in
which Egyptian art was created.
1. I would like to thank the Notre Dame Institute for Advanced Study and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation in
cooperation with the University of California, Berkeley for supporting me when I was preparing and writing this
article, as well as Brett McClain for suggesting the idea of a palaeography database and Ray Johnson for allowing me
the time to compile the data that comprises this work when I was working for The Epigraphic Survey in 2005–6. I also
appreciate the time that they both devoted to read and comment on a draft of this work. I would also like to take this
opportunity to thank the members of the organizing committee, Todd Gillen, Dimitri Laboury, Stéphane Polis, and
Jean Winand, for conceiving of and hosting this conference.
2. Among the many works written on this topic are Der Manuelian 1994; Stockfisch 1996; Kahl 1999; Morkot 2003;
Russmann 2005; Bács 2006; Tiradritti (ed.) 2008.
3. Johnson 1999; Freed 1999.
4. Davis 1996: 184–188; Freed 1996; Laboury 2012. For the Morellian method, see Ginzburg 1989.
204 VANESSA DAVIES
This article will discuss tradition, both ancient and modern, and will introduce a microanalysis of
Eighteenth-Dynasty hieroglyphs in the Small Temple of Medinet Habu, with some comparative
analysis of later Eighteenth-Dynasty hieroglyphs from Luxor Temple. I will discuss the palaeographic
evidence from Medinet Habu and Luxor Temple with regard to similarities and differences in the
shapes and forms of the hieroglyphs, here referred to as style. The examples from Medinet Habu will
allow a consideration of questions regarding how work was organized on an individual level (in what
order did an individual carve hieroglyphs) and on a team level (in what ways was work divided up in a
room). This latter information will be compared with work patterns in private tombs, from which
most of our evidence derives. A few particularly unusual forms of hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu
will prompt a consideration of factors that may have affected the workers and that would complicate a
stylistic analysis of the type common in Egyptology. Finally, I will question our own analytical
traditions within Egyptology, specifically the designation of certain hands as master or pupil/
apprentice, and the assumptions that readers might make upon encountering these terms.
The concept of style, as used in this article, is based on Whitney Davis’s observation that style
results from both intentional and unintentional factors, the latter best understood in the context of
Morellian analysis.5 For decades, the art history world has been reluctant to approach the topic of style
art history because of its traditional association with making aesthetic judgments about works of art.6
Lately, style art history has experienced a resurgence in a modified form because it gives, as Jaś Elsner
put it, an “empathetic, almost tactile, closeness to objects.”7 This closeness is what one can experience
when studying small carvings of hieroglyphs that are typically seen at a distance.
In Egyptology, attempts to understand work patterns typically focus on the hands of artists, as
exhibited in qualities such as the relative shapes and sizes of objects and the particular shaping or
modeling of figures and internal details. In the context of this article, style refers to the qualities of
hieroglyphs such as shape (rounded versus oblong, narrow versus wide, etc.), as well as lines that are
connected or not connected. In this respect, my work follows in a long tradition of stylistic analysis
among Egyptologists (cited throughout) whose studies have shown that Egyptian art is very much
alive in its details.
Although stylistic modifications have been attributed to political dictates at various points in
Egyptian history, those changes had certain consistencies that can be observed at different locations
and, in general, were not of the micro-level discussed in this paper.8 The artistic style changed on a
large scale for reasons likely coordinated with modifications in the religious-political agenda, and
artists typically worked within and replicated the artistic tradition in which they were trained. But for
5. Davis 1996: 16.

6. Davis 1996: 14–15. Elsner (2003: 98) notes that the first edition of the collected volume for which he wrote the entry
for ‘Style’ purposefully omitted that entry.
7. Elsner 2003: 98. Davis (2008: 10) explained: “To see style in an artifact is to sense its attributability to a maker who
existed before and outside us, even though we see the affiliation.”
8. Russmann (1995) and Brovarski (2008) discuss a new state style at the end of the Old Kingdom. For similar
discussions of the stylistic changes in the reigns of Amenhotep III and Akhenaten, see Johnson 1986, 1999, and Freed
1999. The use of the term style here should be contrasted with Gay Robins’ (1994: 119) discussion of Amarna art as a
“new and distinctive style” because Amarna art may well have been underpinned by the authorial intent of
Akhenaten. Her statement does draw a nice contrast between style and technique since artists and craftspeople of that
era presumably used the same techniques as employed in earlier reigns, but executed quite a different style during the
reign of Akhenaten.
COMPLICATIONS IN THE STYLISTIC ANALYSIS OF EGYPTIAN ART 205
the purposes of this article, I do not consider particular artists to have consciously used style to make a
particular political, religious, or artistic point.9
This article discusses the work of draughtsmen (sS od, “outline draughtsman, painter”) and relief
sculptors (TAy-mDA.t, “chisel-bearers”) in conjunction with one another, but it should be noted that the
two types of work differ. The draughtsman carried out the initial sketches of figures and text on the
wall. The relief sculptor followed those sketches when carving, in turn providing a model or a base
that, once plastered, served as the foundation for the draughtsman’s painted work.10 Whether or not
the initial and final draughtsmen were the same people on a given project is an open question and
likely varied depending on the project.11 The final draughtsmen did not always follow the carved lines
precisely and, as can be seen in the areas of the Small Temple that were repainted in the Ptolemaic era,
often added intricate internal detail in paint that was not reflected in the carving.12 The remarkable
preservation of paint in the Small Temple allows one to compare carved and painted lines, although
the examples in this paper rarely show significant deviation from one another.13
2. VARIATION WITHIN TRADITION: DIFFERENT FORMS OF SIGNS

We live in an era of standardized fonts. For publishing purposes, Egyptian hieroglyphs have been
made into a typeface, and the form of the hieroglyph given in sign lists, such as Gardiner’s, becomes a
de facto fixed form in modern publications.14 When we conceptualize hieroglyphs, then, we may
consciously or unconsciously think of the modern printed version, for example, the hieroglyph as first
encountered in a grammar book when learning Egyptian.
Fig. 1. Selection of ankh signs from Medinet Habu (5) and Luxor Temple (1)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 45:4,center, 31:center, 71:center, 41A:frieze and The Epigraphic Survey 1998:
pl. 158 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
9. On ‘stylisticality’ or the repetition of style, see Davis 2011.

10. Bryan (2001: 70) believed that surfaces that lacked relief carving were painted in such a way as to imitate surfaces that
had been carved and painted.
11. Keller (1978) attributes the work of both the initial and final painters to individuals holding the title sS od. I have
followed here her treatment of the issue because I know of no other title under which a painter might work except for
the general title ‘scribe.’ For a recent study of Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period draughtsmen, see
Stefanović 2012.
12. The Epigraphic Survey will publish these rooms in an upcoming edition of the OIP series.
13. For a description of The Epigraphic Survey’s method of recording carved details in solid lines of varying weight, see
Johnson 2012.
14. Gardiner 1964.
206 VANESSA DAVIES
In contrast to our modern standardization of fonts, a selection of hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu
and Luxor Temple shows that the tradition of executing a particular sign might happen in a variety of
ways. At Medinet Habu, the ankh (Gardiner S34) was executed in five main ways (fig. 1): as one entire
piece with no internal lines dissecting it, as a crossbar placed over the loop and lower vertical, the
crossbar and loop as one piece placed over the lower vertical, the crossbar and lower vertical as one
piece placed over the loop, and the loop and lower vertical not perfectly aligned with one another.15
These examples can be compared with a common style of ankh found at Luxor Temple, which is
spindlier and sometimes disarticulated.16 The wick hieroglyph (Gardiner V28) also exhibits variety
(fig. 2). It most commonly consists of three loops produced by three loose twists of the rope, but two
loose twists are also possible.17 On occasion, the twists might be so tightly wound around one another
that they form only one loop at the midpoint of the rope.18 At the close range of this micro-level, it is
remarkable how inconsistent and inconstant the hieroglyphs are.
Fig. 2. Selection of wick hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu (4) and Luxor Temple (1)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 15:12, 37:6, 67B:6, 87:47 and The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pl. 159:108,2
(Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
3. VARIATION WITHIN ONE HAND

When considering the similarities and differences in the tradition of executing hieroglyphs in stone, it
is difficult to know how much one should account for variations brought about by factors, such as
uneven surfaces, the different textures of different types of stone, or the relative sharpness or dullness
of one’s tools.19 One can get a sense of the amount of variation that occurs in one individual’s hand by
examining words that are composed of two or three iterations of the same hieroglyph. The tripled
hieroglyphs that are used to spell plural words, such as ankhu and renput (Gardiner M4), provide an
opportunity to look at the same signs next to one another on the wall. Because these groupings of the
same hieroglyph form one word, we can safely assume that one individual executed the entire set at
the same time.
15. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 44–45:4, and between 3 and 5, 30–31: between 4 and 6, 70–71: between 3 and 5, 40A–
41A: 4 and in the frieze. An interesting note concerns the orientation of the ankh hieroglyph and the sandal
hieroglyph. If one imagines that the ankh represents a sandal strap (for a different view, see Baines (1975)), the ankh
hieroglyph is executed as if the viewer looks at someone else’s foot, while the sandal hieroglyph is executed as if the
viewer looks down at his or her own foot.
16. The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pls 136, 144, 145, 147, 154C, 156, 158, 165A, 168.
17. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 14–15:12, 36–37:6, 86–87:17; The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pl. 159:108,2 and perhaps
pl. 161:8.
18. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 54–55:7, 66B–67B:6, 86–87:47; The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pls 145:8, 154C:4.
19. For the combined use of metal and flint tools in relief carving and the frequent sharpening of metal tools that would
have been necessary, see Stock 2003: 63–5c.
From these grouped sets of the same hieroglyph, we see that a fair amount of variation occurred
within one individual’s execution of the hieroglyphs (fig. 3). Of the eight vertebrae represented in a
pair of djed pillars (Gardiner R11), only one has been delineated with a horizontal carved line along
the top and the bottom of the vertebra.20 Some of the other vertebrae were finished along the bottom
interior only in paint, indicated in the drawing by dotted lines. With three groups of ka signs
(Gardiner D28), consistencies within each group include defined fingers versus mitten-shaped hands
without defined fingers and a center notch or line indicating shoulders versus no indication of
shoulders.21 Within each sign, however, there are inconsistencies, such as the height of the two arms,
the width of the arms, and the angle of the thumb relative to the hand. In a group of ankhs, there are
variations in the shape of the loop and in the width of the crossbar and lower vertical.22 Renpet signs
show differences in the length of the horizontal, length and arc of the top, and placement of the
nodule.23 Among the two sets of renpet signs, the signs dating to the reign of Thutmose III are wider
than the signs restored in the post-Amarna era. Finally, ring stands (Gardiner W11) executed in the
post-Amarna era show differences in the angle of the horizontal top, the angle of the curved bottom,
and the length of the sides.24 What is consistent within each group is whether the horizontal tops of
the jar stands are flat rectangular or more pillow-topped.
Fig. 3. Selection of grouped signs from Medinet Habu

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 25:14, 23:15, 35:12, 67A:11, 67A:11, 25:4, 47:5, 49B:2, 65A:2, 71:9
From these sets of grouped hieroglyphs, we see that variety in the formation of signs occurs not
only on a broad scale, among different hands, but also on a small scale, among signs executed in quick
succession by a single person. This observation contributes to our tradition of stylistic analysis insofar
as it illustrates the difficulty in identifying stylistic elements that will be diagnostic, meaning those that
can serve as evidence of an artistic hand, versus those elements that will change even under one
20. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 24–25:14.

21. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 22–23:15, 34–35:12, 66A–67A:11.
22. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 66A–67A:11.
23. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 24–25:4, 46–47:5.
24. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 48B–49B:2, 64A–65A:2, 70–71:9.
208 VANESSA DAVIES
individual’s hand from one moment to the next. Details that one might single out as stylistic
differences could simply be a natural variation in the hand of one draughtsman or relief sculptor.
An example of a non-diagnostic detail can be seen in the hieroglyph that represents three fox skins
lashed together (Gardiner F31). The difference between the articulation of the join-point as a circle
versus it being partially or completely unarticulated is so minute of a detail that it is basically
ineffective as an indicator of individual style (fig. 4). Likewise, the appearance of the various wavelets
in the skins allows for too much variation to track a particular style through them. In the case of this
hieroglyph, certain observable dissimilarities, such as the overall shape of one sign relative to another
(thinner versus fuller or straight versus angled), might be a better diagnostic tool for style rather than
incredibly intricate details.
Fig. 4. Selection of fox skins hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu (3) and Luxor Temple (1)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 49AB:8, 87:5 and The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pl. 136:2
4. TRACKING VARIATION OVER TIME: FROM MEDINET HABU TO LUXOR TEMPLE

An analysis of the same hieroglyphs executed in different time periods can reveal how the tradition of
forming those signs changed over time. With the word tjebty, “sandals,” each sandal hieroglyph
(Gardiner S33) can be compared with its mate and with other sets of sandals (fig. 5). Each of the four
sets of sandals derives from the north portal of the colonnade hall at Luxor Temple.25 The first set of
two pairs, from the reign of Tutankhamun, are distinguished by the way that the sandal straps come to
a point, as compared with the second set of pairs, from the reign of Aye, where the sandal straps have
rather flat ends. Although a very short period of time separates the execution of these sets of sandals,
one can see a stylistic difference in the ways that the tails of the sandal thongs were executed.
Fig. 5. Selection of sandal pairs from Luxor Temple

The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pls 161, 167, 145
Another change can be observed in a comparison of the earlier Eighteenth-Dynasty owl

hieroglyphs (Gardiner G17) from the Small Temple of Medinet Habu with later Eighteenth-Dynasty
examples from Luxor Temple (fig. 6). Dating from the reigns of Tutankhamun and Aye, the Luxor
Temple examples post-date the Medinet Habu examples. Some, though not all, of the owl hieroglyphs
carved in the Eighteenth Dynasty at Medinet Habu have a double peak feature that tops the face,
25. The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pls 160–161:7, 166–167:8, 145:6, 14.
almost like eyebrows. The eyes are simple slits, mostly horizontal, but they may be arched or sunken.26
The top of the head is flat, and if the bottom of the face is articulated, this effect is achieved with a
curving line.27 Because this line connects with the lines marking the sides of the head, it effectively
creates an image of a flat-topped round head stuck onto the body of a bird.
Fig. 6. Selection of owl hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu (3) and Luxor Temple (1)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 25:6, 47:5, 87:45 and The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pl. 161
At Luxor Temple, the owl’s eyes are represented with a circle rather than just a straight line.28 The
shape of the beak, the wing and body, and the articulation of the feet are similar to the execution of the
owls at Medinet Habu. The eyebrows, which at Medinet Habu tended to stand alone, at Luxor Temple
often connect with the line that marks the lower part of the face. This produces a complete facial disc,
the concave collection of feathers on the face of many owls.29 The rendering of hieroglyphs in general,
and the owl hieroglyphs specifically, illustrate the familiarity of the Egyptian relief sculptors and
draughtsmen with the natural subjects that they produced. When depicted in tomb scenes, the
behavior of the animals in art reflects identifiable patterns of behavior in life.30 Even in hieroglyph
form, when the figure is static and its pose predetermined, the minute elements of a bird’s anatomy,
such as the facial disk, are recognizable to the viewer.
Looking again at the fox skin hieroglyph, a broad distinction can be made between the mid-
Eighteenth-Dynasty hieroglyphs of the Small Temple and late Eighteenth-Dynasty examples from
Luxor Temple (fig. 4). The Medinet Habu hieroglyphs tend to look broader and fuller in comparison
to the more delicate examples from Luxor Temple.31 The lines of three fox skins in the hieroglyph at
Luxor Temple are longer and thinner, giving the sign an elongated look, as if it had more weight
dragging it down.32 The Medinet Habu skins do not give the appearance of having great weight.
26. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 16–17:6, 24–25:5–7, 14, 34–35:16, 46–47:5, 48A–49A:4, 86–87:1, 13, 35, 88–89:1, 13,
35. For one with both arched and sunken half-circles, see pls 70–71:11.
27. For instance in pls 24–25:5–7, 88–89:1. The owl hieroglyph also proved to be a diagnostic sign for Oppenheim (2006:
125–128) in the mastaba of Nebit.
28. The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pls 136:11, 144:13 (three-quarters of a circle), 149:12, 160–161:7.
29. Of the three types of owls that Wilkinson (1837: 51) identified as represented in Egyptian hieroglyphs, the one carved
here is the Barn Owl. The Barn Owl has a flatter head and a heart-shaped facial disc. The other two types of owls that
Wilkinson identified are the Eagle Owl, which has protruding tufts of ears on top of the head that these signs do not
exhibit, and the Small Owl, which has a much rounder head and, as Newberry (1951: 72) noted, begins appearing in
texts later than this era, in the Saite and Ptolemaic periods.
30. Evans 2010, 2012.
31. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 48AB–49AB:8, 86–87:5, 11.
32. The Epigraphic Survey 1998: pl. 136:2.
210 VANESSA DAVIES
5. TRACKING VARIATION OVER TIME: WITHIN ONE SCENE

Other adjustments in the tradition of hieroglyph formation can be seen within one scene if the scene is
comprised of elements that were completed at different times. An opportunity for observing these
adjustments occurs in an offering scene with offering list that occupies the entire south wall of the
King’s Chamber at Medinet Habu. These inscriptions and images were carved during the sole reign of
Thutmose III, and the damage done during the Amarna era was restored in the post-Amarna era.33
On this wall, three hieroglyphs representing a bolt of folded cloth (Gardiner S29) depict the short
end of the roll arced inwards towards the longer end (fig. 7).34 These three hieroglyphs appear quite
near each other in the scene and were apparently executed by the same individual. The fourth folded
cloth hieroglyph in this area was not executed in that manner, suggesting that a different individual
was responsible for its production.35 In fact, this fourth instance forms part of the title of the sem-
priest, which had been hacked out during the Amarna era and restored in the post-Amarna era.36
Thus, the fourth folded cloth hieroglyph post-dates the other three hieroglyphs by over 100 years and
could not have been executed by the same person who was responsible for the first three signs.
Fig. 7. Selection of folded cloth hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 87:46, 49, 51, 45
A similar comparison of one hieroglyph executed in different time periods can be made with the
owls in the same scene (fig. 6). Most of the owls on the south wall of the King’s Chamber follow the
general type of Medinet Habu owl face, flat head, slitted eyes, and arched eyebrows unconnected to the
facial disk. One owl, located in the bottom center of the scene, has markedly different eyes, which are
round, quite distinct from the standard Medinet Habu type of owl and very similar to the eyes of the
Luxor Temple owls.37 This owl, which functions as the second hieroglyph in the title sem-priest, was
also a victim of Amarna-era proscriptions and was restored in the late Eighteenth or early Nineteenth
Dynasty.38 The stylistically similar owls from Luxor Temple date closer to the era of this owl than do
the owls with different eyes that appear right near it on the wall at Medinet Habu.
6. AN APPROACH TO THE ISSUE OF METHODS OF WORK IN A TEMPLE

A stylistic analysis of this type can shed light on our understanding of how work was organized.
Despite what we know about the process for decorating the walls of temples and tombs (i.e. that the
stone was prepared, carved, plastered, and painted), the reality was that process was more flexible and
33. Dorman 2009: xxiii–xxxv.

34. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 86–87:46, 49, 51.
36. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: 61.
adaptable than we might imagine.39 Close study of wall decoration can sometimes give us an insight
into a particular method of working a wall, as proved to be the case at Medinet Habu.
At Medinet Habu, a partially unfinished section of hieroglyphs provides some additional evidence
for the question of the organization of labor. This column of hieroglyphs is found on the left jamb of
the door that leads from the Sanctuary of Amun to the Naos Chamber.40 The Epigraphic Survey has
noted that, under the pintail duck (Gardiner G39), the water sign (Gardiner N35) and the internal
details of the animal belly (Gardiner F32) were left unfinished (fig. 8).41 The signs appear as if an
individual was interrupted during work, leaving them in a partially completed state. This suggests that
the rough shapes of the hieroglyphs were completed first and the intricate details were subsequently
executed.42
Fig. 8. Detail of the left jamb of the doorframe leading into the Naos Chamber
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 43:10 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
In the same way that painting involved applying large swaths of background color and then
adding fine details of a figure, raised relief carving can also be conceived of as removing background
material and then incising finer and interior details.43 It seems quite impossible that each hieroglyph in
the column would have been completely finished before the artist moved on to the next one. If that
were the case, the water sign and the animal belly would have been finished. A more plausible scenario
is that the shapes of all of the hieroglyphs were roughed out, and the interior and exterior details were
subsequently finished.44 This latter sequence of events provides a probable explanation for signs left
39. On the ‘ergonomic conflicts’ in tombs that result in a work order that deviates from what we might expect (i.e. plaster
affixed to the wall before the stone surface had been hewn and prepared), see Laboury 2012: 204–205.
42. Pieke (2011: 217, fig. 2) made a similar observation with regard to the relief decoration in the tomb of Mereruka,
where outlines of figures and internal decoration were completed for many figures, while, in some areas, the outline
was made, but the figure lacked internal details.
43. For this description of painterly work, see Eaton-Krauss 2001: 137–138. On the relative importance of the outline
versus the inner area in Egyptian art, see Schäfer 1986: 79.
44. The unfinished Amarna-era stela ÄM 20716 does not have hieroglyphs on it, but its figures are marked out in just this
way: in outline form with internal details not yet added. A modern parallel is found in the work of Mark Warden
(2000), stone mason on the Hierakonpolis team, who, in 1999, set about to carve a replica of the Narmer palette. He
first roughly marked out the outlines of the figures, then removed the background material, and only lastly carved the
details. Pieke (2011: 222) and Bryan (2001: 69) have similarly raised the possibility that artistic work was performed in
multiple phases, Pieke suggesting that one group of sculptors did the first phase of carving and the overseer finished
it, Bryan suggesting the reverse, that the overseer may have been responsible for ‘outline details,’ while the painting
was finished by others.
212 VANESSA DAVIES
unfinished, such as the water sign and the animal belly in this inscription. At present, we do not know
what the organization of workers would have been in places like the Small Temple at Medinet Habu
nor if there would have been a single method of organization imposed in all situations. A
microanalysis, such as this one, has the potential to bring to light details concerning work patterns.
7. AN APPROACH TO THE ISSUE OF LABOR ORGANIZATION IN A TEMPLE

Although there is no clear information on methods of organizing the carving and painting of temple
walls, we can turn to the decoration of tombs for information. Stylistic analysis and documentary texts
indicate that the work force assigned to temple and state projects would have also decorated private
tombs.45 Betsy Bryan saw similarities between the “rich layering and minute detail” in the Theban
tomb of Suemniwet, from the reign of Amenhotep II, and the slightly earlier work in Deir el-Bahri and
the Small Temple of Medinet Habu.46 The hands of three Deir el-Medina workers, who were
responsible for the decoration of the tomb of Ramesses IX, have also been identified in the Theban
tomb of Imiseba.47
If every room in a temple, even one of modest size like the six-room Small Temple of Medinet
Habu, had been worked simultaneously, there could have been more individuals present than would
feasibly fit comfortably inside a tomb. The six rooms in Medinet Habu, however, were not decorated
at the same time. Different friezes appear over the scenes decorated during the co-regency of
Hatshepsut and Thutmose III than appear over the scenes decorated during the sole reign of
Thutmose III.48 The nonsynchronous decoration inside the temple could indicate the presence of a
smaller workforce, one that more closely approximated that of a tomb. Nonetheless, without knowing
how many individuals were working on a particular wall or section of wall, it is impossible to know
how many hands to look for on a wall.
The conventional understanding of the organization of artistic labor in a tomb was that the
workforce was divided into ‘left’ and ‘right’ gangs, corresponding to the two walls of a tomb’s hall that
were worked by their respective gangs.49 Such rigid terminology suggests orderly, controlled working
conditions, where an individual is assigned to one or the other group and does not work outside of
that particular designated zone. For example, Schäfer identified two hands on a Twelfth-Dynasty
45. Hartwig (2004: 23–24) is skeptical about a large-scale or continued involvement of Deir el-Medina workers in the
decoration of private Theban tombs. But she (2004: 24–35) goes on to list many types of evidence for the involvement
of other state workers in tomb production and decoration, such as the appearance in private tombs of the names and
titles of people who worked in temples, overseers who used the state laborers whom they headed to work on their own
funerary monuments, and stylistic similarities between the art of the west bank Theban tombs and of Karnak Temple.
On evidence that workmen were paid for work in private tombs, see Cooney 2008.
46. Bryan 2001: 70.
47. Keller 1984: 124; 2001; Bács 2001: 95.
48. Hölscher first determined (1939: 11–13), and The Epigraphic Survey later confirmed (2009: 37), the sequence of
decoration of the Small Temple rooms. The rooms decorated during the co-regency period are the Vestibule, the
Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun, the Sanctuary of Amun, the eastern and northern walls and the southern
doorframe of the Naos Chamber, and the western wall and southern doorframe of the Dyad Chamber, while the areas
completed during the sole reign of Thutmose III are the western and southern walls of the Naos Chamber, the north,
south, and east walls of the Dyad Chamber, all of the King’s Chamber, and the façade of the six rooms; Dorman 2009:
xxiv.
49. Černý 1973: 101–102.
inscription from the temple of Sobek in the Faiyum, one on the left and one on the right.50 Petrie also
arrived at a two-person explanation for the work on a painted floor at Amarna.51
The ‘left’ and ‘right’ work labels, however, are found in administrative documents. The terms may
represent a bureaucratic organization of labor rather than typical working conditions in the tomb.52 In
fact, despite the examples offered by Schäfer and Petrie, stylistic analyses of tomb decoration have
shown that work was not always so rigidly demarcated.53 To test the veracity of the left-right
organization of labor in temples against the more fluid labor practices observed in stylistic analyses of
tombs, we will explore in more depth others’ observations on the organization of artistic labor in
tombs, and then look for correlations and discrepancies in the Medinet Habu material.
7.1. Work organization in tombs

Analysis of artistic style in select tombs has suggested that work was not divided so precisely, but that
the workers in a tomb shared wall space in an unpredictable manner. In the Sixth-Dynasty tomb of
Mereruka, Pieke observed that the wall space was allocated in regularly sized areas (100-150 cm), and
relief sculptors worked those areas side by side, progressing around a room and only occasionally
working from opposite ends of the wall.54 Freed has identified two artists at work on both the north
and the south walls in the Twelfth-Dynasty tomb of Ihy at Saqqara.55 The workflow in the tomb
suggests that the two artists’ work patterns were in opposition to one another, with Artist A directing
the flow of work as he progressed from area to area on different walls, and Artist B moving to a
workspace on the wall opposite Artist A in response to Artist A’s movements.56 Analysis of the
individual hieroglyphs on the walls of Ihy’s false door chapel suggests that a variety of different
individuals executed them based on the ‘signature styles’ of the hieroglyphs.57 Stylistic evidence on the
north wall of the Twelfth-Dynasty mastaba of Nebit led Oppenheim to conclude that four
draughtsmen worked on the wall, not in separate and isolated areas, but interspersing their work with
one another, while a fifth artist was identified on the east wall.58
In tombs where a left-right dichotomy is observed, it is rarely as simple as one might think based
on the administrative designations. Keller traced the artistic work in the Twentieth-Dynasty tomb of
Inherkhau in Thebes to the hands of only two artists, who equally shared the work in the tomb.59
Although they did not consistently segment the work into right and left, suggestions that the left and
right designations were considerations can be seen in the decoration of one lunette that was a
collaboration between the two men who basically split it down the center, each working on one side.60
Kozloff originally thought that the Eighteenth-Dynasty tomb of Menna exemplified the two-sided
50. Schäfer 1986: 65, 355, pl. 36.

51. Petrie 1894: 13.
52. Eyre 1987: 186, with references.
53. See, similarly, Pieke (2011: 220) and the references in the section below.
54. Pieke 2011: 217–220.
55. Freed 2000.
56. Freed 2000: 214, pls 37–38.
57. Silverman 2000: 261–263, figs 4e–g, 5a–e. For more on these tombs, see Silverman 2009.
58. Oppenheim 2006: 125–131.
59. Keller 2001: 87, fig. 12.
60. Keller 2001: 86, fig. 11.
214 VANESSA DAVIES
nature of artistic work, but later judged the evidence to represent different people’s work over a period
of time.61 Observing that work in Amarna tombs progressed in inconsistent patterns and rates, Owen
and Kemp concluded that different types of workers, such as stonecutters and plasterers, were
available only sporadically and did not operate as a coherent gang of workers, “but were drawn, often
at separate times, from a pool.”62 Bács noted that the hand of the draughtsman Amunhotep “seems to
dominate the majority of the panel scenes” in the Twentieth-Dynasty tomb of Imiseba, but
Amunhotep collaborated on at least one scene, working the right side while another draughtsman
worked the left side.63 Shedid identified the work of three key draughtsmen, plus additional outline
artists in the Eighteenth-Dynasty tombs of Djehutynefer.64 The great variety in both style and quality
of art in the Eighteenth-Dynasty Theban tomb of Suemniwet has led Bryan to suggest that either a
larger-than-usual workforce (80 individuals) worked the tomb, or, if fewer people, then their artistic
output was inconsistent in the sense that it appeared that there were more hands at work than there
actually was.65 Because contemporary analysis of the preparation and decoration of tomb walls shows
that labor was organized in a variety of patterns, we can conclude that the reality of work in a tomb
was often more complex than allowed by simple left-right designations.
7.2. Work organization and double-sided doorframes in Medinet Habu

A dichotomy of hands similar to those noticed by Schäfer, Petrie, and so many others can sometimes
be observed on the doorframes of the Small Temple at Medinet Habu. These areas are quite useful for
this type of examination because the inscriptions often mirror one another. The mirroring effect
allows for a comparison of the same hieroglyphs in a space that would have had relatively consistent
work conditions, such as available light and location in the room. In the Small Temple, the left and
right sides of the lintel often appear to have been worked by two different individuals. For example,
the pintail ducks on either side of the lintel in the Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun show differences
in the curves of the backs, which on the right is higher and on the left is more sloping, and in the ends
of the beaks, more pointed on the right and quite flat on the left (fig. 9).66
61. Kozloff 1979: 398; Kozloff 1992: 271.

62. Owen & Kemp 1994: 125.
63. Bács 2011: 39.
64. Shedid 1988: 89–90.
65. Bryan 2001: 70.
66. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 70–71:4, 6. For another example, see pls 56-57.
Fig. 9. Portion of the doorframe in the Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 71 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
The left-right distinctions found on the lintel does, to some extent, carry over to the doorjambs.
The pintail duck on the right jamb has the same pointed beak and high back as its counterpart on the
right lintel. Likewise, the pintail duck on the left jamb has the flat beak and a back that is damaged, but
seems to be sloping in the manner of the one on the left lintel. Fewer correspondences can be made
with the bees (Gardiner L2). The bee on the right jamb resembles that on the right lintel in terms of
the shape of the wings and body, but there is a larger distinction between the bees on the left jamb and
the left lintel. In sum, this doorframe provides some evidence for a differentiation of forms based on a
left-right axis, which may correspond to a left-right division of labor.
The lintel in the Dyad Chamber provides another example of this type of stylistic differentiation
on the left and the right. The two bees in the center of the lintel exhibit quite distinct shapes of the
wings and bodies, angles of the head on the body, and lengths of antennae (Fig. 10).67 If the only
differentiations were those of shape, angle, and length, one could perhaps attribute the differences to
the fact that the hieroglyphs were worked either from the left or from the right sides. This could
produce an awkward situation, where a right-handed person works more clumsily from the left than
the right, or vice versa. The question of left- or right-hand dominance, however, cannot explain the
further stylistic difference in the depiction of the hind leg of the bee, which is shown on the right, but
not on the left. The presence of that hind leg on the right, but not on the left, combined with a
comparison of other hieroglyphs below, indicates again a left-right distinction in the center of this
lintel.
67. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 16–17:4, 7.

216 VANESSA DAVIES
Fig. 10. Portion of the doorframe in the Dyad Chamber

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 17 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
Other indications of the presence of two workers on the lintel might be found in the inconsistent
spacing of the hieroglyphs on either side of the center ankh. The sedge plant (Gardiner M23) and bee
on the right side of the lintel are evenly spaced with one another, while those on the left are quite
crowded in comparison.68 The pintail ducks in the register below differ in height, width, head shape,
curve of the back, and space between the feet. The ibis birds and their standards (Gardiner G26) also
differ from one another. The ibis on the right has a prominently jutting front, slightly humped back,
and longer neck than the one on the left.
As in the previous example, the idea of two hands at work on this lintel can be carried through to
the doorjambs. Further distinctions on the left and right doorjambs include the type and level of detail
in the animal bellies, the positions of the pupils in the eyes (Gardiner D4), and the curve of the horned
vipers’ backs (Gardiner I9). There is no indication, however, if these differences can be tied to one or
the other hand on the lintel. Because only a small number of hieroglyphs occur on both the lintels and
68. Spacing differences do not always indicate multiple hands. Oppenheim (2006: 123) concluded that an unevenly
spaced inscription in the mastaba of Nebit is not the work of two individuals, but rather might be evidence of a
belated realization that not enough space had been allocated for the remainder of the text.
the jambs, it is difficult to associate with any certainty the hand of one jamb or the other with the
hands on either side of the lintel.
Like Schäfer’s Twelfth-Dynasty architrave, these two doorframes provide the clearest indication
that separate individuals worked the two sides of a lintel and the two doorjambs. However, it is not
clear that the decoration of the walls in the Small Temple was divided in such a distinct manner.
Perhaps the left-right dichotomy was simply not as useful in creating wall scenes, which, unlike
doorframes and architraves, were not based on a parallel, corresponding composition.
8. A CONSIDERATION OF THE WORKER’S PERSONAL AND PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENTS

Implicit in a stylistic analysis of the type done in this article are certain assumptions that are made
about the draughtsman or relief sculptor. One presupposes that the draughtsman or relief sculptor
performed the actions in such a way as to not significantly alter the result over the course of a period
of time, perhaps days, months, or years. A similar approach is used in determining the authenticity of
a handwritten signature.69 Signature analysis relies on general shapes, not on an exact repetition of the
hand time after time, and so Dimitri Laboury has argued that the analysis of painters’ hands should
focus on the “sequence of the brush strokes.”70 The issue here is a question of variability within
tradition. The draughtsmen and relief sculptors were not automatons that consistently created exactly
the same hieroglyph.
In the case of draughtsmen, one’s style might be imparted by the person under whom one trained,
by learning that person’s particular conventions, or it could be imparted through a conscious or
unconscious modeling of the style of the community in which one worked.71 The same would have
been true for relief sculptors. The tradition within Egyptology to focus on training as the primary
source of one’s style perhaps makes us hesitant to consider other possible effects. The workers’
environments, however, would have necessarily impacted their output.
8.1. Environmental and personal influences

Despite the regularity of output that the stylistic analysis requires, one can imagine various factors that
could have influenced the style of a draughtsman or relief sculptor.72 Space considerations and lighting
are just two factors that could have affected artistic production. Very high areas of the wall might be
reached with a ladder or scaffolding, but carving the stone close to the floor would require that one
work in a crouching or kneeling position. The art on the lower parts of the walls, which has often been
observed to be of lower quality, could have less to do with the assignment of an apprentice to this area
than the simple difficulty in working the lower registers of the wall, which resulted in a different
69. Fay 1993: 364–367.

70. Laboury 2012: 204.
71. Keller 1978: 229–231. This issue was also discussed by Bács (2011: 33–34) and Eyre (1987: 173). At Deir el-Medina, at
least some training scenarios occurred within the context of a father-son relationship, and Keller (1978; 1984) showed
that the hands of members of the same family were quite similar. On textual evidence for apprentices and the idea that
the state, as the main employer of the father, was essentially the trainer and future employer of the next generation,
see Cooney (2006: 55), who also argues for the existence of informal workshops that provided funerary goods for a
private market. For a description of the training process and images of teaching or corrective sketches, see Keller
1991. More recently, Cooney (2012: 147) argued that figured ostraca were “part of an informal system of ongoing
cultural and artistic practice” that existed alongside, not in opposition to, more formal methods of training.
72. On different artistic styles not necessarily being indicative of different workers, see Silverman 2000: 263.
218 VANESSA DAVIES
appearance of those images.73 The lack of sufficient lighting in areas that were poorly or partially
illuminated, would affect one’s ability to clearly see one’s own work and work area.74 Parts of the walls
that are deeper in the tomb or temple would be less likely to have direct or diffracted light coming in
through portals. Thus, if the walls near the entrance exhibit a higher quality of art, it could be because
these walls were illuminated with natural light from outside, as well as with lamps. An additional
impediment to clear vision was created by the act of carving, which would have thrown up bits of
stone and dust into the air, leading to Oppenheim’s conclusion that individuals could not have worked
directly next to one another in such a situation.75
One’s style might also be affected by an irregular work schedule. In the more informal setting of
private tombs, not overseen by the state in the way that the royal tombs were, work did not necessarily
proceed according to the same pattern in every tomb or under every overseer.76 In fact, work in the
tomb did not always progress in an orderly, systematic pace at all. As noted above, tasks that
seemingly had to occur in sequence, such as cutting out and shaping the rock wall and then plastering
the wall, were not always completed in that order.77 Work crews appearing in irregular orders might
have necessitated less adherence to the left and right designations used for work in a royal tomb, if
they were even used at all in private tomb work.78
Finally, there is no reason to assume that the draughtsmen and relief sculptors would have aimed
or desired to form every single image or every single hieroglyph according to a rigid pattern of
uniformity every day or in every monument. What we perceive in a Morellian analysis as a unique
style may be the result of internal or external factors on the individual. A variety of emotional and
physical factors might cause one to execute drawing or carving in different manners, such as being
rushed, distracted, tired, ill, or injured. Any or all of these factors could account for the appearance of
multiple styles in one tomb, which could lead to an overestimation of the number of workers in the
tomb.79 Keller put the issue into perspective, “They (i.e. Deir el-Medina draughtsmen) were more
often governed by social, familial, and economic influences than by philosophical considerations of
‘style.’ Their art was not something that they were apt to intellectualize. Painting was—after all—their
job.”80
This thought is not meant to discredit a stylistic analysis of Egyptian art or to fundamentally
change the way in which such analyses are performed. It seems worthwhile, however, to keep in mind
that the subjects of the analysis, the draughtsmen and relief sculptors, were not automatons,
mechanically reenacting the same movements over and over again. These were human beings who
worked under varying personal and environmental conditions, and a perceived change in style does
not necessarily indicate a different worker. Furthermore, as shown in the examples in this article, the
73. Silverman 2000: 263–264; Pieke 2011: 225. This issue will be discussed again below.
74. Laboury 2012: 205; Tavier 2012: 210–211.
75. Oppenheim 2006: 119–120. On the eye problems from which Deir el-Medina draughtsmen suffered, see Keller 1991:
54–56. On the health problems of stone workers, see Stock 2003: especially 237–238.
76. Bryan 2001: 71.
77. Laboury 2012: 204–205.
78. Keller 2001: 87.
79. Tavier (2012: 211–212) made a similar argument made with regard to overestimating the number of workers due to
light restrictions in a tomb.
80. Keller 1978: 232.
variation in artistic style can be an interesting and useful area of study in the same way that patterns of
standardization can be.81
8.2. Joie de graver

Besides draughtsmen’s and relief sculptors’ varying workplace and personal conditions that might
produce in their art the appearance of different styles, it is conceivable that some of these people might
purposefully choose to vary the appearance of his work. As Pieke noted, “[…] a skilled artist is without
any doubt capable of achieving distinct styles.”82 Alongside the practice of borrowing from or
hearkening back to older artistic traditions, there is evidence of creativity and ingenuity within
Egyptian artistic tradition. Scenes that were partially copied and incorporate new elements provide a
sense of the draughtsman’s or relief sculptor’s playfulness or creativity. This can be seen in depictions
termed “hybrids,” which are figures of people and objects “composed by uniting elements originally
belonging to two or more separate entities.”83 Tefnin collected examples of Egyptian art that he
characterized similarly, describing the artists as “poètes au plein sens du terme” who play “avec une
savante spontanéité.”84 Indeed, it has been shown in Egyptian art that creative freedom leads to
changes in style.85
Tefnin focused on larger images than does this microanalysis of hieroglyphs. His examples
included a statue-stela, a stela that had embedded in it three-dimensional seated figures of a couple;
the use of a single line to separate the visible from the invisible, when a human figure is half-obscured
by a marsh scene; and the fish-filled ‘mountain of water’ that arises in front of the deceased who spears
one of them.86 The idea of play, which Tefnin recognized in the details of large-scale images, can be
observed, although perhaps less frequently, in details at the level of the hieroglyph.
A particularly obvious example of a unique execution on the micro-level is found among ankhs in
a scene at Medinet Habu dating to the co-regency era. Two of the ankhs in this scene are of the
crossbar over the loop and handle variety.87 The third ankh in the scene is from the same era, but
inexplicably exhibits an added elaboration in the crossbar (Fig. 11). Rather than being a single
horizontal, each side of the crossbar consists of two components, each with its own flairing terminus,
as if the cross bar radiates out from the point where it joins with the vertical. The embellishment is
unique to this scene.88
81. In a recent study of ceramics in the ancient Mediterranean, Kotsonas (2014: 8–9) argues that “standardization and
variation are relative concepts and should be understood as a continuum and a matter of degree, rather than as fixed
states of being.”
82. Pieke 2011: 217. On the idea that one might consciously or unconsciously copy the style of another person, perhaps
someone whose work was admired or someone who trained the person, see Keller 1991: 51–53.
83. Wachsmann 1987: 4–9, 29–31, 64–67. See also Bács 2006.
84. Tefnin 1991: 87.
85. Robins 1998: 961.
86. Tefnin 1991.
87. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 64A–65A:4, 7.
88. A similar type of second-level layering on the crossbar can be seen in Schäfer’s (1986: fig. 30c) drawing labeled a ‘life
vase,’ a figure that is a combination of an ankh and a vase.
220 VANESSA DAVIES
Fig. 11. Detail of the ankh with flair, Medinet Habu

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 65A:3 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
Given the prevalence of the ankh sign in temple inscriptions, it would be unlikely that a particular
individual carved this ankh, but failed to have the opportunity to carve any other ankh in the Small
Temple. It is possible that this person simply did not work elsewhere in the temple, but only worked
on this particular section of wall. Such a scenario might point to an inconsistent workforce and a high
rate of turnover, which, if applied to the entire complement of artists who worked in this temple,
would make tracking hands quite difficult.
Another clear stylistic difference can be found in two of the hieroglyphs representing three fox
skins lashed together. These two examples are found in two separate scenes located side by side on the
north wall of the Dyad Chamber (Fig. 12).89 In the case of these two hieroglyphs, the tops of the skins
form a cross consisting of a horizontal bar and a vertical center bar. Other examples from the co-
regency period and from the sole reign of Thutmose III show these three tips fanned out rather than
forming a cross shape.90
Fig. 12. Two cartouches showing the cross-topped skins hieroglyph

The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 23:11, 25:10 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
Like the ankh sign, this fox skin hieroglyph is found quite commonly in the Small Temple since it
is used in the cartouche of Thutmose III. Therefore, it is highly unlikely that the individual responsible
for the cross-shaped top on these two hieroglyphs would not have found reason to carve that
hieroglyph anywhere else in the temple. Disregarding a high rate of turnover in the workforce, we then
proceed from the assumption that the ankh and fox skin hieroglyphs were carved purposefully. It is
possible that the ankh’s crossbar was executed, deemed to be too short, and then extended, resulting in
the hieroglyph’s current appearance. Perhaps these hieroglyphs are examples of an individual
89. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 22–23:11, 24–25:10.

90. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 49A:8, 49B:8, 63A:6, 63B:7.
experimenting with form, technique, or conceptualization of the sign. If the person responsible for
these two hieroglyphs worked elsewhere in the temple, but only made the hieroglyphs in this manner
in the two scenes on this one wall, then we might imagine that these are micro-examples of Tefnin’s
idea of play.
9. EGYPTOLOGICAL TRADITIONS OF CONNOISSEURSHIP

9.1. Post-Amarna restoration in the Small Temple of Medinet Habu
The Epigraphic Survey has noted a general trend in the carving of hieroglyphs in the Small Temple at
Medinet Habu with regard to chronological appearance and detailed execution of signs. Signs recarved
after the initial decoration of the temple was mostly complete, such as signs carved during the sole
reign of Thutmose III or restorations made in the post-Amarna era, tend to be executed in a less
detailed manner than those originally carved in a scene.91 The doorframe in the Naos Chamber
illustrates this quite nicely (Fig. 13) in the detailed carving of the hoes (Gardiner U6) from the co-
regency era and the less detailed carvings from the sole reign of Thutmose III and the post-Amarna
era.92
Fig. 13. Hoes from the Naos Chamber doorframe carved during the co-regency of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III
(2), the sole reign of Thutmose III (1), and the post-Amarna restoration (2)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 45:3, 5–8 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
The connection at Medinet Habu between level of detail in the carved hieroglyph and the era in
which it was carved does not hold true in all instances, and interesting discrepancies can be seen in
certain locations. For instance, the door in the Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun was originally
carved during the co-regency era, and the doorjambs and right lintel cartouches were altered during
the sole reign of Thutmose III.93 The two fox skins hieroglyphs on the right lintel and right jamb were
executed in the hasty manner often indicative of recarved signs (fig. 14). The same hieroglyph on the
left jamb, which was also recarved under the sole reign of Thutmose III, is more detailed than the
other two that date to the same era. From this example, it is clear that more thorough carvings were
sometimes made after the period of the original decoration of the temple. A similar situation can be
found on the door in the Naos Chamber, where the hieroglyphs in the cartouches on the right and left
of the lintel and on the right jamb were often, but not always, recarved in great detail.94 From these
91. The presence of traces of previous inscriptions is one indicator that the original inscription had been changed. The
recarved areas are also distinguishable from their immediate contexts in that the surface of the stone is lower, due to
the process of cutting back and recarving, and the color of the background is not consistent with the rest of the scene.
See The Epigraphic Survey 2009: 44; and Dorman 2009: xxv.
92. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 44–45:3, 5–8.
93. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 70–71:4, 6, 8, 11.
94. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 44–45. For other examples, see pls 42–43, 68–69.
222 VANESSA DAVIES
examples, we see that the conclusions of a stylistic analysis, in this case regarding chronology and
attention to detail in carving, should not be applied too broadly.
Fig. 14. Fox skin hieroglyphs from the Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun doorframe carved during the co-
regency of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III (1: located on the left lintel) and the sole reign of Thutmose III (3:
located on the right lintel, right jamb, and left jamb, respectively) (detail of fig. 9)
The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pl. 71:4, 6, 8, 11 (Courtesy of The Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago).
9.2. Style and the master

In the Egyptological tradition of analyzing style in tombs, attention is often paid to areas where the
highly skilled or ‘master’ artists worked, which are compared with the areas given over to lesser skilled
artists, those conceived of as apprentices or artists who had not yet mastered standard conventions or
their own skill sets. Using the master and apprentice categories, a variety of patterns of work have
been identified in tombs based on the principle that the master produced ‘better looking’ (to a modern
eye) images, so those images must have been either more important in terms of subject matter or in
terms of location within the tomb. The pattern of decoration, however, varies from tomb to tomb so
that where Rita Freed views the artist who created the images of the tomb owner as the master artist,
Betsy Bryan does not see that same pattern in the tomb of Suemniwet.95 Also, in the Middle Kingdom
chapel of Ihy, David Silverman identified “better quality hieroglyphs” on the middle or upper areas of
the wall in Ihy’s chapel, which indicated to him that perhaps the lower areas were worked by
“apprentices or artists-in-training” or were simply more difficult areas in which to work, while
Gabriele Pieke described the relief decoration of Mereruka’s tomb as being more complete on the
lower areas of the walls than on the upper areas.96 Variations of this type do not negatively impact the
soundness of the methodology, and may simply indicate that work was approached in different ways
in different tombs. The issue that may be problematic is framing the quality of painting or relief in
terms like finer versus rougher or judging a carving or painting to be the work of a master because, in
our estimation, it was better executed than another example.97
The identification of stylistic differences should not necessitate an aesthetic judgment, but the
Egyptological tradition has suffered from this tendency. When Petrie published the painted floor at
Amarna, he indicated that the west half of the room’s floor was completed by a skilled artist with “a
fine and firm hand throughout,” while the east half was completed by one who whose work “was far
inferior to the other,” exhibiting “less coherence and skill in arranging his plants, the wings of the
birds are more clumsy, and the calves are much stiffer and worse in drawing. On the other hand he
tried to compensate for his inferiority by more variety. He alone uses the convolvulus, and the
insects—locusts, butterflies, and dragon-flies—scattered among the birds; and in the calves he has
turned the heads, and made an unhappy attempt at novelty.”98 At once praising and denigrating the
95. Bryan 2001: 69–70; Freed 2000: 214.

96. Pieke 2011: 225; Silverman 2000: 263–264.
97. For similar arguments with regards to classical art, see Scott 2006.
98. Petrie 1894: 13. For his “more skilled” painter, see pl. III, 3, while the “less skilled” painter’s work is on pl. III, 1–2.
work on the east half of the floor, Petrie pointed out the aspects of it that were less pleasing to his eye,
as well as details, such as the convolvulus, that introduced into the work a type of variety that he
obviously felt was agreeable.
Whether or not Petrie’s views would have resonated with Egyptian viewers is unknown. To use a
subjective distinction in quality based on contemporary sensibilities to judge the relative training and
worth of artistic output seems likely to mislead.99 Similarly, classifications of master and apprentice
workers can erroneously suggest to a reader that certain examples of Egyptian art are evidence of a
higher artistic culture or output than others based on the relative impact of the art on the
contemporary viewer.100 These terms may imply situations more applicable to the Renaissance era
than to ancient Egypt, such as the expectation that the apprentice would establish his own studio and
work in a style independent from the one he had learned.101 In addition, the presence of a ‘master
artist’ implies that there is some type of ‘pure style’ that the master executes.102 Yet, when individual
hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu and Luxor Temple are compared next to one another (Figs. 1–7), the
evidence indicates that stylistic details varied even while the overall forms of the hieroglyphs remained
recognizable. A micro-level analysis reveals more than we might expect. At the greater distance of the
macro-level, we recognize, for example, all ankh hieroglyphs as ankhs. But on the micro-level, we see
the intricacy and variety of their construction.
The examples from the Small Temple of Medinet Habu discussed in the previous section
demonstrate the limitation of an approach that sees ‘well-carved’ hieroglyphs as having been executed
by masters or executed at the same time as the original wall decoration and not as part of a program of
emendations or additions. Some cursorily carved hieroglyphs were among the post-Amarna
restorations at Medinet Habu, but some finely carved hieroglyphs also dated to those eras. One would
be mistaken to assign only the most complete carvings to the original decoration of the temple. In a
similar manner, the attribution of ‘finer’ carvings and paintings to the hands of master draughtsmen
or relief sculptors might also lead to inaccurate conclusions.
10. CONCLUSION
This study of the traditions of execution of hieroglyphs in the Small Temple of Medinet Habu
provides some insight into the levels of change and continuity in the formation of hieroglyphs. There
is a general tendency to accept that the execution of carved and painted decoration changed over time,
from place to place, and across the hands of different individuals. This microanalysis of hieroglyphs
provides some insight into all three of those types of change, gives some evidence regarding work
patterns in a temple, and raises questions regarding our own analytical traditions within Egyptology.
The comparison of individual hieroglyphs from the Small Temple reveals one particular
hieroglyph might have been formed, and therefore conceptualized, in a number of different manners.
Despite these minute differences, the sign retains an overall shape that remains recognizable to us as
99. For a similar view, see James Clifford’s (1988) critique of the aestheticizing of ancient art that he wrote in response to
the 1984–1985 Museum of Modern Art exhibit “Primitivism” in 20th Century Art: Affinity of the Tribal and the
Modern.
100. See, for instance, Martindale 1990. One might be reminded of the dissatisfaction with much of Egyptian art in
Groenewegen-Frankfort 1972.
101. On the master-pupil relationship in the Renaissance, see Burke 1986: 51–57.
102. Davis 2011: 92.
224 VANESSA DAVIES
that hieroglyph. Dual and plural words that are written with two or three of the same hieroglyph show
the levels of variation within an individual hand. These examples illustrate to us that one person
would not repeatedly produce identical work even in the short period of time needed to produce one
word.
Certain Medinet Habu hieroglyphs were then contrasted with corresponding examples from
Luxor Temple. This juxtaposition illustrates the change in shapes and details of the hieroglyphs,
changes that could be attributed to the passage of time or to the different locations. Even more
interestingly, the hieroglyphs in the Small Temple that date to the post-Amarna program of
restoration are more similar in stylistic detail to their later Eighteenth-Dynasty counterparts in Luxor
Temple, on the east bank of the Nile, than they are to the earlier Eighteenth-Dynasty hieroglyphs in
Medinet Habu. This change in style over time (from mid-Eighteenth Dynasty to later-Eighteenth and
early-Nineteenth Dynasty) spanned temples on both sides of the river, and suggests that the Theban
workforce, at that time, at least, was not stylistically divided by the riverine separation.
The microanalysis of hieroglyphs in the Small Temple helps us understand work traditions. The
two unfinished hieroglyphs point to work executed first in outline and then in detail. The split of labor
into left and right sides, which Schäfer observed on an architrave, seemed to also exist in certain work
locations that had parallel text. As has been observed in tombs, a strict left-right organization of labor
does not seem to apply to the execution of wall scenes.
Finally, this study explores questions concerning the tradition of stylistic analysis within
Egyptology. Such analyses rely on a corpus of images or hieroglyphs that were executed in exact or
very similar manners. Egyptological work at many sites has shown that artists’ hands are trackable
through this method.103 As a supplement to this type of analysis, I have explored factors that might
have altered an artist’s hand or masked a particular person’s style. The consideration of personal and
environmental factors, both intentional and unintentional, provides a richer picture of artists’ working
conditions, and could reduce the inclination to judge style based on modern tastes.104 Stylistic analysis
of images and hieroglyphs is a process akin to seriation and, like seriation, does not require qualitative
judgment of the material.105 Here is where an examination at the micro-level assists. A micro-level
analysis can bring to light insights about the human experience, which, in turn, can sideline our own
aesthetic impressions.
In the vein of Keller’s threefold view of artistic production, which starts with the royal court and
ends with the many workers in various locations who created the art, Egyptian artists worked in a
rigid system.106 Based on his training, an individual draughtsman or relief sculptor would impart to a
painting or carving his own personal style, perhaps even with a bit of innovation, but without
deviating from the overall artistic style that presumably originated with the king and elites. In this way,
the tradition in which Egyptian artists worked is again differentiated from their Renaissance-era
counterparts. Although the latter often worked for patrons according to themes dictated to them,
Egyptian artists “were not the free agents driven by ideas of originality and progress familiar from
103. But note that Davis (2011: 89–93) discusses Morellian connoisseurship as better for identifying a school or tradition,
rather than an individual.
104. A consideration of hieroglyphs and artistic labor in the ways I describe here aligns with the theoretical approach
Kunstsoziologie, explained by Verbovsek 2011: 382–384.
105. Grabar 1988: 6–7; Davis 2011: 90.
106. Keller 1978.
modern stereotypes.”107 As we scrutinize details of images that were never intended to undergo such
rigorous analysis, we can keep in mind that the stylistic attributes that we identify may not have been
noticed or relevant to the Egyptians.108 For this reason also, a careful examination of such images must
keep in mind the factors that affected the workers.
When considering tradition in an ancient Egyptian milieu, we tend to think of topics such as
stylistic trends, subject matters that were depicted, and varying techniques of working in particular
media, but our own traditions of observation, information gathering, and analysis are as important to
take into account. In the same way that a relief sculptor may have neglected to finish a couple of letters
at Medinet Habu, our own patterns of work might mistakenly cause us to miss subtle nuances. In
poring over images, receipts, and titles of workers, we yearn to know more about Egyptian art and
artists. Perhaps we can find some evidence of their working conditions and their innovations in the
details of their work.
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Collection Ægyptiaca Leodiensia 10

Todd GILLEN (ed.)

Presses Universitaires de Liège

A look at the Small Temple of Medinet Habu

5. Davis 1996: 16.

2. VARIATION WITHIN TRADITION: DIFFERENT FORMS OF SIGNS

9. On ‘stylisticality’ or the repetition of style, see Davis 2011.

3. VARIATION WITHIN ONE HAND

Fig. 3. Selection of grouped signs from Medinet Habu

20. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 24–25:14.

4. TRACKING VARIATION OVER TIME: FROM MEDINET HABU TO LUXOR TEMPLE

Fig. 5. Selection of sandal pairs from Luxor Temple

Another change can be observed in a comparison of the earlier Eighteenth-Dynasty owl

5. TRACKING VARIATION OVER TIME: WITHIN ONE SCENE

Fig. 7. Selection of folded cloth hieroglyphs from Medinet Habu

6. AN APPROACH TO THE ISSUE OF METHODS OF WORK IN A TEMPLE

33. Dorman 2009: xxiii–xxxv.

7. AN APPROACH TO THE ISSUE OF LABOR ORGANIZATION IN A TEMPLE

7.1. Work organization in tombs

50. Schäfer 1986: 65, 355, pl. 36.

7.2. Work organization and double-sided doorframes in Medinet Habu

61. Kozloff 1979: 398; Kozloff 1992: 271.

Fig. 9. Portion of the doorframe in the Sanctuary of the Ithyphallic Amun

67. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 16–17:4, 7.

Fig. 10. Portion of the doorframe in the Dyad Chamber

8. A CONSIDERATION OF THE WORKER’S PERSONAL AND PHYSICAL ENVIRONMENTS

8.1. Environmental and personal influences

69. Fay 1993: 364–367.

8.2. Joie de graver

Fig. 11. Detail of the ankh with flair, Medinet Habu

Fig. 12. Two cartouches showing the cross-topped skins hieroglyph

89. The Epigraphic Survey 2009: pls 22–23:11, 24–25:10.

9. EGYPTOLOGICAL TRADITIONS OF CONNOISSEURSHIP

9.2. Style and the master

95. Bryan 2001: 69–70; Freed 2000: 214.

SCHÄFER, Heinrich. 1986. Principles of Egyptian Art, Oxford.

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