The Missing Link? Preliminary Fieldwork in Armenia
Why Not Armenia? Justifying the Parameters of this Research Project
Anyone reading about this research is bound to ask the question “What about Armenia? Why has Armenia been left out of this project?” This is a reasonable question and is one that the following short article will attempt to answer, along with some preliminary remarks based on a short period of fieldwork in the country.
The first issue relating to this question is one of linguistics. As somebody coming to the subject from the field of Syrian Archaeology and Ecclesiastical History, the Syrian material was familiar but this project required intensive study to get to grips with the evolution of Georgian church architecture and related fields. It was clear from the outset that this meant studying Georgian and also learning to read some Russian as well; in short within the five years of this research project it was simply too much to expect to learn Armenian at the same time as getting to grips with Georgian and Russian. It was also obvious that extensive fieldwork in both countries would be a stretch given the poor roads and difficult terrain involved in reaching some of the relevant sites.
The next question often asked is that of why Georgia was chosen over Armenia in the first place and this can be answered by an unusual quirk of Church History. After the opposing sides of the Mariological and Christological controversies of the fifth century crystallized over the course of the decades following the Councils of Ephesus (431) and Chalcedon (451), only one group ever changed from their initial doctrinal position; the Georgians. At some point at the turn of the sixth and seventh centuries the Georgian Church hierarchy decided to break with their Armenian counterparts and embrace the doctrine of the Council of Chalcedon. This was a move that brought them strongly into the Byzantine sphere of influence, as henceforth they would take their lead in religious matters from Constantinople. Although the definitive break has been officially dated to the Council of Dvin in 610, in reality as with many historical events, the precise dating of this schism remains a little murky and 610 can be taken as the time the relationship was definitively over, but it seems probable that the real division had occurred a few years before this council.
An additional factor was that it was the intention of the investigator to work from the ‘known’ to the ‘unknown’ and, whereas there is a reasonable amount of scholarly material accessible in western European languages on the evolution of Syrian and Armenian church architecture, this was not the case with the Georgian monuments. Allowing for a number of gaps in our knowledge, archaeologists and art historians can draw together an understandable overview of the situation in late antique Syria and Armenia through literature available in English, French, German and Italian. With Georgia the options are far more limited as the lack of a widely established diaspora community means that, unlike their Armenian neighbours, few people of Georgian origin lived and worked outside the Soviet Union in the twentieth century and therefore the overwhelming majority of literature on these subjects was published in Russian, or alternatively in Georgian. Although post-1991 the situation is beginning to change, there is still an acknowledgement by many Georgian scholars that it is difficult to access their work in western European languages and that the long-established Armenian diaspora means that Armenian archaeology and art history are, relatively speaking, more accessible areas of study to non-Russian, Georgian and Armenian speakers.
Rationale Behind Undertaking (Brief) Fieldwork in Armenia
As the project neared its end it became increasingly clear that it was necessary to visit Armenia, even briefly, in order to understand the many references encountered during research to Armenian monuments as having Syrian influences or alternatively to different types of church fitting a ‘South Caucasian’ pattern located on both sides of the contemporary border between the two countries. Although it was clear that many gaps in knowldege would remain, at least it was hoped that it would be possible to form a personal opinion on how close (or otherwise) these relationships appeared on the ground. Therefore, as is highlighted in the section on the website cataloguing the monuments visited during this trip, the observations that follow are preliminary thoughts that mark the beginning of research in this area rather than the product of five years of intensive research as elsewhere on this site! This is intended as an opening of debate and it is hoped that readers will make contact via the website to offer their thoughts and suggestions as to how we can develop future interdisciplinary methodologies for the comparative study of Eastern and Oriental Christianity.
So after this somewhat lengthy preamble, what were the observations made during this trip and did they shed any light on the central research questions of the project? Well predictably the answer to that is both yes and no and we will examine these findings below.
A ‘Syrian’ Church in Armenia: The Case of Yereruyk
A number of Georgian colleagues had made mention of a ‘Syrian’ church in Armenia and I eventually established that they were referring to the fourth or fifth century basilica of Yereruyk, also called Yereruyk and located on the edge of the modern village of Anipemza on the Turkish border in Shirak Province. This was interesting as this monument features prominently in most surveys of early Christian architecture because basilicas, even early ones, are considered rare in Armenia and this is especially the case if they are not domed basilicas as at Odzun (see below). From photographs of the west façade of the church it looked as if there was indeed a very strong affinity with Syria and, on paper, this looked an open-and-shut case of an architectural type from northwest Syria reaching Armenia via Asia Minor. However, in reality we know that things are rarely that straightforward and unsurprisingly visiting Yereruyk raises a great deal more questions than it answers.
At first sight the west entrance of Yereruyk looks a close parallel to that of the fifth century basilica of Qalb Lozeh on Jebel Il’Ala with towers flanking the main west entrance and the space between the towers covered by a roof protecting the west door. However on closer investigation there are a number of differences between the two buildings that suggest the links are not as close as often suggested. The first is that it is clear at Yereruyk that this portico space was roofed by a stone barrel vault springing from the level shortly above the main entrance portal, on the other hand at Qalb Lozeh a series of sockets above the main entrance suggest that the space was covered by a wooden and tiled construction at that site. The next divergence is that the northern tower at Qalb Lozeh had three stories of double windows. Damage to the southern tower makes it difficult to be sure, but at the lowest level it seems that two blind windows were outlined with the same sinuous relief decoration as the real windows on the north tower. Damage prevents us from understanding what was happening on the higher levels. In Yereruyk the south tower is almost entirely destroyed and so it is difficult to come to a conclusion as to how it would have looked without spending a long period of time studying the fallen masonry that has been numbered and spread out the west of the basilica. However it is possible to find a faint echo of the double blind windows of Qalb Lozeh in the single blind window on the north tower at Yereruyk. There is also the same sinuous decoration over the window and down its sides, but there the motif terminates and it does not continue in a continuous band around the exterior as was usual in Syria.
When entering the basilica via the portico between the towers it is necessary to climb up a stepped pediment, which is also distinctly different from the Syrian tradition, where such stepped bases are not used. However this seems to have been a relatively common element in Armenian ecclesiastical architecture as within a few days the writer saw such bases (of differing numbers of steps) used at Yereruyk, Zvartnots, the Church of the Holy Cross in Aparan and possible remnants of this feature at Aghzdk and Surb Hovhannes in Byurakan.
On entering the central nave the differences between Yereruyk and the standard form of Syrian basilicas becomes very clear. Rather than having northern and southern arcades supported by columns or square or cross-shaped piers, as is the norm in Syria, the interior is a single-naved space. If could be argued that perhaps this basilica was modelled on a simple hall church, but that argument is weakened by the presence of pilasters on both sides of the nave which give the feeling more of a pagan temple cella than a typical Christian basilica. The east end of the building terminates in an apse that is significantly taller and narrower than the norm in Syria and on either side has a pastophorion that is entered through a small door into a space roofed by a transverse barrel vault. It is immediately apparent that there is no access to the north aisle of the basilica via the central nave, although a small door in the northwest gives access to a chamber in the north tower and there was amatching door on the south side to give access to the corresponding southern tower.
On the south side of the nave are two doors and these lead to a narrow aisle that terminates in an apse. The elaborately pedimented exteriors of these doors demonstrate that this aisle was, as in Georgia, an exterior space open to the elements on the south side. There are also pilasters on this wall and these are interspersed with windows decorated with the same linear decoration mentioned above in relation to the blind window on the tower façade. All in all this is typical of a Georgian “three church basilica” but is not a design that is encountered in Syria.
The east end of the church is flat and turning to the north elevation we find the same apsed east end and pilasters as on the southern side, it is just that there is no door through which the central nave can be accessed on this side. So, when all these factors are taken in conjunction with each other, it is easy to see how the west façade and the linear decoration have encouraged art historians to draw parallels between Yereruyk and the Syrian architectural tradition as it seems abundantly clear that the builders of Yereruyk were familiar with some elements of late antique Syrian churches. On the other hand, if we look further than the aesthetic details of the building, we can see that the arrangement of space suggests a distinctly different liturgical disposition than that encountered in Syria in the same period. Instead it is in line with what is happening to the north in the countries of Kartli and Kakheti, where the “three church basilica” was fairly commonplace in late antiquity. There is no question that Yereruyk is an intriguing monument and its sheer size is a shock on visiting the site for the first time, but it remains a monument that raises more questions than it currently answers.
A ‘Three Church Basilica’: The Domed Basilica at Odzun
The domed basilica ascribed to the sixth century at Odzun in Lori Province is an interesting amalgam of two architectural types; the “three church basilica” and the domed basilica. Taking the second category first, it fits into a small group of monuments that, with the possible exception of Odzun itself, are all dated to the first half of the seventh century and which today are scattered across three different countries. These churches comprise of Tsromi (Georgia), Mren and Bagavan (Turkey) and the church of St. Gayane, Echmiadzin (Armenia) as well as the monument under discussion. In the cases of the churches listed above we have clear evidence as to exactly when they were constructed and therefore this raises questions as to whether Odzun was built later than originally argued, whether it is in fact a sixth century forerunner of the buildings mentioned above or alternatively whether the current domed form is entirely the result of the eighth century renovations known to have been carried out on the building. In fact the latter seems the most plausible and, in this case, Odzun as it stands today was perhaps an eighth century attempt to replicate the sophistication of the seventh century domed basilica type.
If we accept this argument this could also explain why Odzun is also a “three church basilica” in the sense that whilst the central space of the domed basilica is already divided into a central nave with north and south aisles delineated by the columns supporting the central dome, there are also further aisles to the north and south of the building that are not accessible through the central part of the church. Instead they can be entered via the narthex and are also open to the air with a columned arcade running along both the north and south sides of these external aisles. The south aisle terminates in a small chapel and the arcade lacks its stone barrel vault, but is otherwise intact. On the north side the apse is still extant, but the arcade has been lost and was in the process of being rebuilt, in a sadly rather unsympathetic manner, at the time of visiting in August 2017.
Therefore it seems a logical explanation to suggest that perhaps the church at Odzun was built as a “three church basilica”. At some point later, most likely in the eighth century when we know the building underwent a major remodelling, it was altered to accommodate a dome and, at this stage this created small aisles within the central nave itself through the process of adding the four piers necessary to support the central dome. As above, these impressions are based on a first encounter with this monument and it is hoped that there will be an opportunity to explore these ideas later in the future.
Final Thoughts…
As explained above, these are preliminary impressions based on a brief first trip intended to explore how far Armenian ecclesiastical architecture had incorporated elements of early Syrian basilicas. However, although such influences were discernable on a decorative level, when it came to questions relating to proportion and the disposition of space there was a strong South Caucasian unity of form and function. This is understandable, but raised the question as to whether, as in Georgia, perceived ‘Syrian’ influences have been overstated on the basis of floorplans. As Yereruyk proved, what on paper and in the academic literature seemed a clear example of a Syrian-type basilica being built in Armenia, proved to be far more complex in reality; the west façade and linear decoration suggested a knowledge of the Syrian Limestone Massif, as did the pedimented decoration of the two south doors, but the stepped platform and “three church” tripartite division of space suggested that other, more Caucasian elements were at work.
It is to be hoped that there will be future opportunities to pursue these questions and unravel the complex network of relationships between the Levant and the Caucasus in late antiquity within a much wider context.