Imhotep Today

Egyptianizing Architecture

Jean-Marcel Humbert, Clifford Price

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• eBook ISBN: 9781315426990
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Archaeology
• Index: Social Sciences

This book presents and analyses the results of the use and adaptation of ancient Egyptian architecture in modern times. It traces the use of ancient Egyptian motifs and constructions across the world, from Australia, the Americas and Southern Africa to Western Europe. It also inquires into the cultural, economic and social contexts of this practice. Imhotep Today is exceptional not only in its global coverage, but in its analyses of thorny questions such as: what was it about Ancient Egypt that inspired such Egyptianizing monuments, and was it just one idea, or several different ones which formed the basis of such activities? The book also asks why only certain images, such as obelisks and sphinxes, were incorporated within the movement. The contributors explore how these 'monuments' fitted into the local architecture of the time and, in this context, they investigate whether 'Egyptianizing architecture' is an ongoing movement and, if so, how it differs from earlier, similar activities.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION: AN ARCHITECTURE BETWEEN DREAM AND MEANING

Clifford Price and Jean-Marcel Humbert

This book is about the use in architecture of designs from Ancient Egypt: so called ‘Egyptianizing’ architecture. The authors of the various chapters demonstrate that Egyptianizing buildings and monuments have been constructed in many parts of the world, over many centuries. Cavetto cornices, torus mouldings, battered walls, sphinxes, pyramids, obelisks and numerous other features have been used to decorate structures that range from suspension bridges to zoos, from cinemas to reservoirs, and from prisons to museums. These designs have contributed to the creation of an exotic cultural image, and they can convey a range of powerful connotations, open to numerous interpretations. This may explain why the phenomenon of ‘Egyptomania’ has lasted so long (Rice and MacDonald 2003). Here, we use the term ‘Egyptomania’ for any kind of approach to anything ancient Egyptian, and ‘Egyptian Revival’ and ‘Egyptianizing’ for the use of styles originally from Ancient Egypt (and see below). ‘Egyptophiles’ are those who are enthusiastic about the subject of Ancient Egypt, and one might wish to coin the term ‘Egyptopaths’ (in preference to ‘Egyptomaniacs’) for those who are completely crazy about anything and everything to do with Ancient Egypt!

Visitors throughout history – be they ancient Romans, travellers, missionaries, soldiers of Bonaparte’s campaign, or our own contemporaries – have all regarded in situ Egyptian architecture with astonishment. The colossal scale of the pyramids and the temples (Werner, Chapter 5; Whitehouse, Chapter 3), the originality of design, the mystery of the hieroglyphs and the exoticism of the sphinxes and zoomorphic gods are all features which have been claimed to characterize and distinguish Ancient Egypt from other civilizations. This has resulted in an enduring fascination with Ancient Egypt that is very much alive today (Jeffreys 2003: 15–16; MacDonald and Rice 2003), and which continues to influence the imagination of architects, designers and those who commission them.

Egyptomania takes many shapes; sometimes it is the shapes themselves (notably pyramids and obelisks) that are considered to be the very essence of an ancient Egyptian identity; sometimes the Egyptian hallmark is manifested in other self-contained structures such as tombs and garden ornaments that draw heavily on Egyptian designs; sometimes decorative elements in supposed Egyptian style are ‘bolted on’ to non-Egyptian functioning structures; on some occasions entire buildings may be modelled on structures that derive from Ancient Egypt; whilst less permanent structures may be built for exhibitions and for theme parks.

This is not the first book on Egyptomania in architecture. There are several renowned accounts (Curl 1994; Humbert 1989; Humbert et al. 1994), but we hope that the present work will prompt the reader to address some of the questions and problems that Egyptomania presents, and that have not, perhaps, been sufficiently addressed before. How, for example, can one determine whether a particular feature is truly derived from Ancient Egypt? And why have Egyptian features been adopted in so many parts of the world, when other cultures have not been adopted in the same way? The book also considers the triggers that have led to the adoption of ancient Egyptian elements into different, relatively recent circumstances. It does not provide all the answers, but we hope that, at least, it does clarify some of the questions.

Manifestations of Egyptomania

Pyramids and obelisks

Both the pyramid (Humbert, Chapter 2) and the obelisk (Hassan 2003a) are less obviously meaningful by their shapes than might first be imagined. For the ancient Greeks the term for the former was a variety of cake, and for the latter a roasting skewer (Harrison 2003). Nevertheless, both have been adopted repeatedly, in designs ranging from monumental architecture to contemporary art, and they are still often seen today. Pyramids, in particular, never cease to be present in cemeteries, appearing in a wide range of sizes and materials. Even during the last 30 years, further testaments to their popularity have been built around the world, such as the entrance to the Louvre in Paris (Humbert, Chapter 2: Figure 2:7), a hotel-casino in Las Vegas (Fazzini and McKercher, Chapter 8: Figures 8:14, 8:15), and pyramid houses, shops and offices in Memphis, Tennessee (Fazzini and McKercher, Chapter 8: Figure 8:13). Clearly, a relationship of some kind has been established between a ‘new’ and an ‘ancient’ Egypt. In the USA, this may have continued the early 19th century American need to define new symbols representative of the country (Carrott 1978: 49–50): thus, the river Mississippi became the ‘American Nile’, with modern incarnations of Memphis, Cairo, Karnak and Thebes all bordering its banks. Perhaps a continuing search for roots, particularly for ancient ones, has been responsible for the pyramid (as well as other objects of Egyptomania) being adopted for the private residence. A striking example is the domestic complex built for the American Jim Onan near Chicago in the 1980s (Fazzini and McKercher, Chapter 8: Figures 8:9, 8:10, 8:11 col. pls.); it is reported (Humbert 1989: 90–91, 120–121) that, much to the amusement of the owner, the structures prompted considerable public interest!

An intriguing question in itself is why the pyramid has become so firmly, and often exclusively, attached to Ancient Egypt in the recent and modern, popular (and, for that matter, Egyptomanic) mind.¹ The Pyramid shape – pyramids – are also to be found in use in ancient Mexico, so why are pyramids not equally associated with Mexico? It is certainly not because the public are aware that diffusionist theories have been rejected by almost all professional archaeologists (Champion 2003: 140–145; Medina-González 2003). Why, then, should Ancient Egypt have a monopoly on the pyramid? The pyramid is, after all, one of the simplest three-dimensional shapes, and it must surely have been known since humankind’s very earliest attempts at design. What alternatives are there? A cube, perhaps? But this would require three times the volume of building materials. A sphere? Impossible, with traditional construction techniques. A regular tetrahedron? But this cannot be built so readily with regular blocks of stone, and the square plan of the pyramid lends itself also to the construction of internal chambers.² There is little wonder, therefore, that Ancient Egypt seized upon the pyramidal form, and that other cultures have done the same – without necessarily mimicking Egypt.

Similar arguments may be applied to the obelisk, for it is difficult to imagine what other shape might be adopted to create a tall structure with modest use of both natural and human resources. A column with circular cross section, certainly, although the architect Liégeon argued in 1800: “I believe that a column can be regarded only as forming part of a monument, and not as a monument in itself; whereas an obelisk by itself is a monument, since it has never formed part of any other monument” (Archives Nationales, Paris: F/13 630). Almost anything other than an obelisk or a column would be too flimsy or too ‘fancy’. Little seems to be understood (even less than with the pyramid) regarding the popular and extensive spread of copies and pastiches of obelisks, despite the fact that there are an enormous quantity and variety of them worldwide (from Australia – Hope, Chapter 9, to Brazil – Bakos, Chapter 13).³ What does seem certain (Hassan 2003a: 27, 35–36) is that the (partially, at least, assumed) original significance(s) of obelisks for Ancient Egyptians – some kind of connection with the sun, and its giving substance to the sun’s rays – was completely ignored once they entered the wider European context. Indeed, in this wider context, from having usually been one of a pair in Ancient Egypt, the obelisk is usually erected alone.

Since the ancient Roman and later diaspora of the obelisk, it has been argued that a solitary obelisk attracts attention and adds originality to an environment. But obelisks have not always served as monuments: they have also functioned as ornamentation on other monuments, such as fountains (Hassan 2003a: Figure 2:25), bridges (Figure 1:1; Whitehouse, Chapter 4: Figure 4:15), tombs, cenotaphs and war memorials; quite frequently they have been used to commemorate an event or a personality. Both as memorials and commemorations, obelisks have served political and social roles in a variety of contexts. For example, they have acted as a dedication to a specific person, such as Chancellor d’Aguesseau in Paris, ca. 1753 (Humbert 1974: fig. 6); to commemorate a technological landmark, such as the ‘Canal du Centre’ in Chalon-sur-Saône, central France, 1788; and to mark a historical occasion, such as the 1590 battle of Ivry-la-Bataille in Eure, France, 1802; or a notable political event, such as the ‘Column of the Jews’ in Nice (1826, destroyed in 1863). However, such uses of obelisks as commemorative devices did not automatically exclude perceptions of either charm or a certain esotericism:

Set in the forest of Crécy, this obelisk occupies the centre of crossroads where three intersecting roads converge. This almost gives the crossroads the aspect of a six-pointed star. However, this star, or Seal of Solomon, is formed of the two triangles of water and fire that are joined at the tops: the symbol of the alchemist’s work. This is why, according to Fulcanelli, the obelisk shows our planet subject to ‘the combined forces of water and fire’, when the end of civilization comes.

(Charpentier 1980: 136)

Figure 1:1 Egyptian bridge, 1828 (restored in 2002), Minturno, Italy (© Jean-Marcel Humbert).

One common denominator in all these contexts, it appears, is that obelisks, whether in a wood or in a city, were adopted to be seen from afar, to attract attention. They can perhaps be taken as the expression of an architectural act designed to be a point of convergence for both eyes and ideas, linking together important events or personalities with significant places.

It is not only ‘obelisk-significance’ that has changed and developed since ancient Egyptian times, but also the modes of construction employed to create them (even if they have often maintained an ancient Egyptian height and volume). None of the modern interpretations are monoliths, and most frequently they consist of stone blocks that are either rendered or left exposed. They have also been constructed from materials such as concrete, or even bricks.

The 18th century witnessed an important innovation with regard to obelisks, namely their presence as park decoration, which became such a tradition that no ‘selfrespecting’ Anglo-Chinese garden would have been considered complete without one. Typically they were combined with pyramids, Japanese bridges, Chinese pagodas and Gothic ruins, all of which are usually taken today as having represented a desire for exoticism and nostalgia. Several are still visible, dating from the early 18th century (such as the one installed by William Kent in Chiswick House Park in 1736 (Jekyll and Hussey 1927: 146, 149; Wilson 1984: 193–194)) through the 19th century (e.g. the suburban Pallavicini villa park in Pegli, Genoa (Calvi and Ghigino 1999: 39); Rosati, Chapter 12), and they remain popular to this day. Some of such modern examples are gigantic, such as those at Bunker Hill in Boston (68 m high), Washington (169 m; Carrott 1978: 139–141; Fazzini and McKercher, Chapter 8: Figure 8:2), and Buenos Aires (67m). These are equipped with internal staircases, observation platforms and even lifts.

However, the most important single message deriving from the study of the obelisk that must be appreciated in the context of this book is about changing perceptions of material culture. Such perceptions may alter depending on the nature of the audience as well as the particular historical and political contexts of the occasion. Such differing perceptions may even take on nationalistic glosses. For some people, and perhaps for some nationalities, the obelisk can give an instant reminder of Ancient Egypt. Archaeological artefact and curiosity – even when copied – it became to the French one of the symbols of Bonaparte’s expedition, and from the reign of Louis-Philippe it celebrated the fusion of the Egyptian myth with that of the triumphant ‘Napoleonic’ period. By contrast, there are probably few English people who would associate the war-memorial obelisk on the village green with Ancient Egypt.

In the chapters of this volume the obelisk receives the following epithets: “giving substance to the sun’s rays”, “the expression of an architectural act designed to be a point of convergence for both eyes and ideas, linking together important events or personalities with significant places”, “an instant reminder of Ancient Egypt”, a symbol of “justice and truth” (this Introduction); a symbol of “American expansionism”, of “liberty enlightening the world”, and of “phallus-father, unifying god, military victor, masonic warrior for freedom” (Fazzini and McKercher, Chapter 8); a pointer to both Imperial Rome and to Catholicism, and an indicator of “the rescue of (Egypt’s) past from oblivion by Napoleon and indirectly by Champollion”, of “the role of France in safeguarding antiquities for ‘world heritage’”, and of the “association between Napoleon and a pharaoh famed for his military conquests and empire building” (Bryan, Chapter 10); “symbols of (Australia’s) gold or other mineral output”, “symbols of victory” and of “cultural achievement and aspiration” (Hope, Chapter 9). These many symbolic roles – where they have been correctly identified – are in addition to the obelisk’s perhaps less contentious functions as location marker, decoration, commemorative monument or funerary monument.

Thus the obelisks created during the last four centuries have addressed multiple cultural and social needs. Sometimes they have concealed important and original meaning beneath a somewhat banal and repetitive surface; on other occasions, they appear ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Series Editor’s Foreword
• Contributors
• List of Figures
• 1 Introduction: An Architecture between Dream and Meaning
• 2 The Egyptianizing Pyramid from the 18th to the 20th Century
• 3 Archaeology Wedded to Art: Egyptian Architecture in 19th Century Painting
• 4 Egypt in the Snow
• 5 Egypt in London – Public and Private Displays in the 19th Century Metropolis
• 6 Egypt in London – Entertainment and Commerce in the 20th Century Metropolis
• 8 ‘Egyptomania’ and American Architecture
• 9 Ancient Egypt in Melbourne and the State of Victoria, Australia
• 10 Egypt in Paris: 19th Century Monuments and Motifs
• 11 Rebuilding the Sanctuaries of Memphis: Egypt in Masonic Iconography and Architecture
• 12 Neo-Egyptian Garden Ornaments in Florence during the 19th Century 221
• 13 Egyptianizing Motifs in Architecture and Art in Brazil 231
• 14 Egyptianizing Motifs in South African Architecture 247
• 15 ‘Egyptianizing’ the Alexandrina: The Contemporary Revival of the Ancient Mouseion/Library 257
• References
• Index