Douris and the Painters of Greek Vases

by Edmond Pottier

Hydria. Munich Museum.

We must naturally picture things in Greece on a modest scale: the enterprise conducted at less expense than nowadays, the capital smaller, and the staff reduced to those strictly required. Above all, it is necessary to remember that the division of labour was far less marked in ancient times than with us. The same man was capable of different tasks, he was employed according to his ability and intelligence. There was nothing of the mechanical spirit, which nowadays has passed into the man from the machine, and, for the sake of greater speed and precision, isolates a workman in a corner of the factory without teaching him anything else. Undoubtedly a social hierarchy existed and weighed heavily upon the individual; to be citizen, metic, or slave implied profoundly different conditions of life, which raised more formidable barriers between classes than with us. But in the exercise of art or industry the life of the ancients presents itself under a singularly democratic aspect. Their workmen shared their mental work far more than ours do, and were familiar with all the details of the craft. This it is which gives to the industrial art of the Greeks a marked distinction. No matter how modest the work, one feels a living intelligence therein. The history of vases is most suggestive in this respect. We never find the stiffness of mechanical labour, the monotony of copy repeated to satiety. All are not masterpieces—far from it. But not one is quite devoid of individuality, and the best proof that can be given is that two painted Greek vases exactly identical do not exist.

Whether Douris was metic or citizen, we may think of him as a craftsman, who by his knowledge and skill had acquired an important position in the town, and directed one of these flourishing establishments in the potters’ quarter, near the Dipylon Gate, and just at the entrance to the Necropolis. His ware helped to carry the fame of Attic taste into distant lands.

We know that the majority of Greek vases have been gathered from Etruscan tombs, where they formed the personal property of the dead after having been used by families at banquets and at religious ceremonies. Similar finds have been made in many other sites of the ancient world: in the islands of Sicily, Rhodes, Melos; on the coast of Africa, in Cyrenaica; in the Thracian Chersonese, even as far as the Crimea. But nowhere have the finds been richer than in Etruria; this was the favourite market for Attic ware during the sixth and the greater part of the fifth century.

After the disastrous war in Sicily, when communication with the Tyrrhenian Sea was severed, they turned to southern Italy, the Islands, Africa, and the Scythian colonies. The trade in vases was not limited to the home market, to the customers of Athens and the neighbourhood. The most important and most thriving part of the industry was the export into foreign countries. What we to-day term l’article de Paris scattered over all the world somewhat recalls the favour enjoyed by Attic productions in that age. Great profits must have been realised.

This trade was again combined with other important exports. It would be an error to consider the painted vase as a curio simply made for the pleasure of the eyes of the collector or artist, like the porcelain of China and of Japan to-day. The Greeks had no bric-à-brac. We may even say that there were no art amateurs or collectors. Utility was the only foundation of art: it formed its health and strength. We do not believe a statue was ever made, even in the fifth century, simply for the pleasure of creating a beautiful piece of work. Each art object had a practical purpose, and only existed by virtue of a want: offerings to the gods, consecrations after victories, household utensils, votive offerings at the altar and the tomb. It follows that industrial art was still more intimately connected with practical needs. The amphora, which appears as a speciality of Athens in the ceramic industry, contained the famous oil gathered in the plain—to-day still famous for its olive groves—or wine from Parnes. We know positively that the Panathenaic amphoræ given as prizes at the feasts in honour of Athene contained the savoury oil produced by the sacred plants of the goddess. Victors carried these to their homes as trophies. There is no reason to believe that other vases were treated differently. Why should the painted amphoræ, such as are found from the sixth century onwards in great numbers in Etruscan tombs, be sent forth empty from the workshops of Corinth, Chalkis, or Athens? They certainly once contained a product prized by the inhabitants of Caere and Volsinii more than the beauty of the painting on their exterior. In consequence of this beautiful decoration, which was a sort of trade-mark of Greek produce, rich families in Italy ordered entire “table services” from Athens for special use at banquets and religious festivals. They not only comprised receptacles for oil and wine—amphoræ, krateres, lekythoi, decanters for wine as the oinochoai, holders of water as the hydria—but also vases for drinking, such as the kylix, the kantharos, and the skyphos, and even plates and platters. From the fifth century onwards Athens had succeeded in destroying all competition. She had become the unique centre of this trade. The character of the art then obtained decisive importance.

Fig. 5. A DISPLAY OF VASES AND A PURCHASER.

Kylix by Phintias. Baltimore Museum.

The manufacture of the kylix—which was essentially the instrument of joy and gaiety, passing at banquets from hand to hand and admired by every one as it passed—received an impetus until then unknown.