After spending two weeks as an artist-in-residence at the Art Center Padula, I made my way to London, England for a brief interlude to visit some important artifacts at the British Museum. It was a welcomed reprieve from il caldo ('the heat'), le zanzare ('the mosquitos'), and the fearsome pappataci (another type of tiny, flying, biting insect) of southern Italy. There was about a 20 degrees Fahrenheit difference between London (in the 70's) and Padula (in the 90's), so I had no qualms. It was a little bittersweet to leave Padula after such a seemingly short time, but strong connections were made on personal and artistic levels, and I feel my work was propelled forward and in new directions by the experience there.
[Caption: My final sunset in Padula, streaming over the mountains of the Lucani.]
En route to the United Kingdom, I was fortunate to spend a couple nights in Firenze (Florence). About 14 years ago I lived in Firenze for a year while I was a student. I earned a minor in Fine Art during the third year of my undergraduate, having taken courses at SACI (Studio Arts College International) in Firenze, along with sculpture courses at American University in Washington, DC. After working on sculpture, drawing, ceramics, or photography by day, I would spend my evenings at the Jazz Club (yes, the name of the Jazz club is just that, the Jazz Club) playing trumpet with the other local musicisti fiorentini ('Florentine musicians'). On this day, walking around the sweltering cobblestone streets of the city, dodging the tourists (although, I guess, I was one of them too now), I was greeted by wave-upon-wave of fond memories from a formative, primordial chapter of my life.
[Caption: Clockwise from top left: the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella; the front doors of my old school, SACI; front and back of the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, 'il Duomo.']
Escaping the heat of la città ('the city'), I flew to London, got settled into my B&B, and then quickly made my way to the British Museum. I had made a check-list of important artifacts to see, based on my book research, which became a bit of a scavenger hunt; but the most important piece I needed to see in-person was the Tabula Agnone (the 'Agnone Tablet'). It one of the most important examples of the Oscan language, shedding light upon the language, its grammar, and the religious traditions of the Samnites.
[Caption: The London skyline at sunset, as seen from the top of Primrose Hill.]
Being the prepared 'scout' that I usually am, I had looked up the inventory and location codes on the museum's website before my visit, and had an itemized check-list in my notebook at the ready. That was the easy part. Navigating room numbers, case numbers, and item numbers was quite an adventure. After several minutes spent circling the same couple of rooms filled with ancient Greek artifacts, I had to stop myself, quickly becoming dizzy with anticipation and anxiety that I would completely miss what I had come so far to see. It was warm and crowded in the museum, and many of the rooms had large, industrial fans keeping things cool, or at least keeping the air moving.
[Caption: The British Museum is a big place, both inside and out.]
I paused for a moment, took a few deep, calming breaths, and approached a neon-yellow-vested guard hanging out in a corner. I asked if she knew what room the Agnone Tablet was in. She looked puzzled and said she did not. As if it were fate, I immediately noticed she spoke English with an Italian accent. Parli italiano? I asked ('do you speak Italian?'). Sì! she responded. I proceeded to explain the important ancient Samnite artifacts I was looking for, and mentioned my checklist. She asked me to show her the inventory/location codes, and then pointed me in the right direction to the group of rooms in which they were located. I thanked her profusely and continued my hunt, with a new pep in my step, skipping several with each stride up the stairs to the next floor.
[Caption: Lots of pots.]
L'ho trovato! I yelled ('I've found it!'). If there were raised eyebrows or surprised faces on any of my fellow museum-goers, I was unaware. My attention was completely transfixed upon a dull, turquoise-grey rectangle sitting in the vitrine in front of me. It took every ounce of self-control not to cover the glass with my finger, hand, forehead, and nose prints.
[Caption: Close and closer...to the Agnone Tablet.]
Carved into a piece of bronze (11in x 6.5in), the Agnone Tablet lists the deities worshipped at a fíísnú (Oscan meaning 'sacred grove;' also, Greek: τέμενος temenos; Latin: fanum). The tablet was found near the modern town of Agnone in Molise, and dates to the 3rd or 2nd century BCE. It is inscribed on the front and back, read from right-to-left, and the small dots in between each word are used the same way modern English uses spaces to separate words. The third word of the inscription, húrtín, means 'garden,' and interestingly one can see a connection to the word 'horticulture;' the Oscan root word húrz being a cognate with the Latin hortus and the ancient Greek χόρτος khórtos, also meaning 'garden.'
[Caption: My own transcription of the Agnone Tablet. Special thanks to Monica Tong for her expertise in helping to create a digital Oscan font on my computer.]
I spent what seemed like ages staring at the Agnone Tablet, imagining the process of forming and carving the bronze some 2,200 years ago; all the while mumbling quietly to myself, reading through the first few lines, doing my best to pronounce the ancient Oscan words. The lines go list various goddesses and gods, with the word statíf at the end of almost every line. This word could either mean 'a stop' or refer to a statue/station, as if these are instructions on how to navigate the sacred grove on a ritualistic walk. The root kerrí- is also omnipresent through the text, and alludes to the goddess kerrí derived from the Greek goddess Ceres, the deity of agriculture and grains (where the English word 'cereal' comes from). One may also observe the name hereklúí in line 13, who is the Samnite version of the Greek god Herakles, and the Romans called Hercules. My personal favorite lines are 9 and 10. Respectively, anafríss... meaning 'rainclouds,' and maatúís... meaning 'morning.'
[Caption: Left: Apulian (modern Puglia, south Italy) red-figured volute-krater vessel depicting a battle between Greeks and Amazons, 410-400 BCE. Middle: several small statues of musicians, Etruscan and Campanian, 480-380 BCE. Right: Athenian red-figured column-krater vessel depicting the satyr Marsyas playing the aulos (double-pipe woodwind instrument) as he challenges the god Apollo to a musical contest, 410-400 BCE.]
[Caption: Left: Etruscan bronze trumpet, 400-200 BCE. Middle: red-figured oinochoe vessel depicting a maenad (female follower of the Greek god Dionysus) and a satyr dancing, from Paestum, Campania (Magna Graecia), 330-320 BCE. Right: closeup of a bronze trumpet player in front of a sculpture of one figure playing an aulos and the other playing a lyre (harp-like instrument).]
[Caption: Left: Campanian red-figured skyphos vessel depicting a dancing maenad, from Paestum, 330-320 BCE. Middle: terracotta statue of a woman playing a lyre, from Taranto (Magna Graecia), about 330 BCE. Right: Apulian reg-figured rhyton drinking vessel in the shape of a bull's head depicting a satyr playing the aulos, 370-350BCE.]
From this brief foray into the archaeological record of the Samnites and their closest geographic, cultural, and linguistic neighbors, the world of their musical traditions is beginning to take shape in my mind. There is an abundance of material from which to inspire many more original compositions in my own idiom and musical language; to further my hypotheses with the goal of recreating what their music may have sounded like on instruments that they may have played; and finally to work towards a complete opera production (an ambitious undertaking that may take a while--as in years).
[Caption: Other intriguing finds from the Samnites, the Lucani, and their neighbors in Magna Graecia, including a few Oscan inscriptions, and my favorite Samnite coin depicting the Samnite bull goring the wolf of Rome.]
Comments