Through our newsletter we deepen our market understanding, unlock value for our clients, and cultivate a diverse audience of intelligent and inquisitive individuals who are not traditional art world participants. We recognize a broad demand for insightful critique of art and the art world, plus an under explored dynamic interplay with the growing market for Digital Art. As we develop innovative products to engage and expand our audience; we are committed to creating value in the art market.
As Rome's grip on empire loosened in 330 CE, something extraordinary began on the Bosphorus shores... the small town of Byzantium was renamed Constantinople and rose to become the centre of the (Roman and Christian) universe. As it became the capital of Empires, Constantinople didn't want to simply inherit Rome's artistic legacy: it aimed to revolutionize it. While Western Europe forged its own path through the "Dark Ages" [1], the Eastern Mediterranean became a "New Rome", a crucible where classical techniques morphed into something unprecedented.
Most people imagine classical art as marble statues in quiet museums—frozen in time. But this journey east tells a more dramatic tale. Byzantine craftsmen turned Roman expertise toward divine mysteries. Venetian merchants transformed stolen treasures into civic pride. Islamic scholars reshaped Greek optical theories into revolutionary sciences.
In previous newsletters, we explored how Roman art spread across an empire, crumbled as the Roman Empire fell, and how Christianity built upon its foundation. Today, we'll discover how that legacy evolved through three custodians: Byzantine visionaries, Venetian opportunists, and Islamic innovators. This isn't just about who culturally inherited Rome's artistic legacy—it's about who dared to reinvent it.
A Rome Away From Rome
Constantinople's rise from provincial town to imperial capital is one of history's most remarkable metamorphoses. Founded as Byzantium by Greek colonists in 657 BC, this settlement on the Bosphorus Strait began as little more than a fishing village. Yet its position—straddling Europe and Asia at a natural maritime trade chokepoint—proved irresistible. Darius I of Persia (550 BC - 486 BC) recognized its strategic importance by building a pontoon bridge across the Bosphorus in 512 BC to launch his Scythian campaign.
Osman's Dream of Constantinople (1280) further glorifies its location as "that city placed at the junction of two seas and two continents, seemed like a diamond set between two sapphires and two emeralds, to form the most precious stone in a ring of universal empires."
Virtually reconstructed image of Constantinople during the Byzantine era with the royal complex, hippodrome, and Hagia Sophia.
In 196 CE, Byzantium sided against Septimius Severus (145 - 211 CE) in a civil war. Naturally, he razed it to the ground. Thanks to his son Caracalla, Septimius rebuilt Byzantium grander. He added defensive walls and a hippodrome [2] that would later house Constantinople's most precious classical relics.
What transformed this settlement into Nova Roma—the New Rome? By the 3rd century CE, the empire's center of gravity shifted decisively eastward. With wealth from eastern provinces and threats from Persian armies and Germanic raiders, the empire needed a capital that could be easily defended (and fed!) while projecting power across both halves of the Mediterranean and maintaining Roman continuity. Within this context, Emperor Constantine made the bold decision in 330 CE to move the capital of the Roman Empire from Rome to Constantinople. This was a profound shock to the establishment that ended up being a masterstroke: Constantinople had a long reign as the predominant city of the Roman Empire, then the Eastern Roman Empire after 476 CE (what we now call the Byzantine Empire), and then the Ottoman Empire after 1453 CE. It is still a major city today, renamed again as Istanbul.
The Byzantine Empire in 555 CE under Justinian I (483 - 565 CE), its greatest extent since the fall of the Western Roman Empire, vassals shaded in pink.
The city wasn't just Rome's mirror. It was Rome reimagined for a new age, controlling vital shipping lanes while sitting closer to the empire's richest territories and most dangerous frontiers. Like its predecessor, Constantinople was built on seven hills with fourteen districts. Constantine created a new senate and decreed Italian noble families establish residences to ensure the city mimicked Rome's social fabric from day one. Even the imperial guard system was recreated, but with a crucial twist. Where Rome had its Praetorian Guard, drawn from Roman army veterans, Constantinople established the Varangian Guard, recruited from Norse and Anglo-Saxon warriors. Like Rome before it, Constantinople was more than a capital and strategic genius- it was an idea as mythic as Rome itself, a dream of empire where ambition met destiny.
This mirroring of Rome was only the beginning. Constantine orchestrated an ambitious construction program to complete Constantinople in six years what took Rome centuries. He systematically transferred Rome's artistic heritage eastward: sculptures from Rome's forums, Ancient Greek monuments, even sacred Egyptian relics. This masterfully calculated transfer served multiple purposes: it gave the new capital instant gravitas, supplied models for artists, and left Rome's stripped forums as reminders of power's migration.
The Serpent Column, ancient bronze sacrificial tripod with missing gold basin, 8 meters tall (24 ft) originally in Delphi to commemorate the Battle of Plataea (479 BC) relocated to Constantinople in 324 CE by Constantine to decorate the hippodrome. Remained intact until the 17th century. The Ancient Egyptian obelisk of Pharaoh Thutmose III from the Great Temple of Karnak is in the background. 18th dynasty (1479–1425 BC), was re-erected in the hippodrome by Theodosius I in the 4th century CE.
After establishing its political and physical framework, Constantinople faced its greatest challenge: how to forge an aesthetic worthy of Nova Roma and a Christian empire. Unlike Western European artists, who developed a simplified "linear" style emphasizing religious narrative, Byzantine artisans pursued a more sophisticated goal: maintaining Roman technical mastery while reimagining its purpose. While the size of the Byzantine Empire dwindled rapidly between the 6th and 11th century, its artistic influence persevered through trade and its former territories. This transformation created a new artistic language that merged classical precision with Christian spirituality, proving Constantinople was not just Rome's heir, but its unprecedented evolution.
Byzantine Art and its Influence
Now that we have the essential historical context, it's time to look at some art!
The Christ Pantocrator of Sinai is one of art history's most fascinating puzzles with its sophisticated synthesis of Hellenistic-Roman naturalism and Christian theology [3]. It is a strong example of how Rome's artistic legacy was reinvented under the Byzantine Empire.
Imagine looking at two different portraits merged into one face—this is exactly what the artist achieved for a profound reason. The icon's split personality wasn't accidental: its right side shows Christ as divine, with an intense, otherworldly gaze, while the left portrays his human nature through softer, naturalistic features. This clever visual technique represented the Church's complex theology about Christ's dual nature in a way everyone understood after the Council of Chalcedon (451 CE).
Christ Pantocrator, Saint Catherine's Monastery, Sinai, 6th century CE, encaustic painting, 84 x 45.5 cm. One of the oldest Byzantine religious icons.
What makes this work revolutionary is how it preserves ancient Roman artistic knowledge while being distinctly Byzantine. The artist used an ancient Egyptian technique called encaustic painting—pigments mixed with hot wax— used in Roman-era mummy portraits (notably the Fayum portraits). Modern spectroscopy has proven this technical connection suggests an unbroken tradition. Even the head-on portrait and rendering of Christ's robes and neck muscles derive from Roman emperor portraits, though these classical techniques suggest divine authority rather than earthly power [4].
Examine the intricate details: the individually painted beard strands, the play of light and shadow on the face, and the blessing hand position. These elements show what art historian Ernst Kitzinger called "the survival of the classical style in miniaturist form." Ancient Roman craftsmanship was preserved and repurposed to create something new: the definition of divine kingship that influenced art for the next thousand years.
Virgin and Child mosaic, 9th century CE, Hagia Sophia, Istanbul, Turkey. Original image by Hagia Sophia Research Team.
This artistic revolution spread through specialized workshops across the Byzantine Empire. Constantinople's imperial ateliers became renowned for engineering feats like Hagia Sophia's dome, while combining classical Roman metalwork with Persian luxury. In Syria, around Antioch, artisans developed a distinct mosaic style influencing Islamic geometric patterns and medieval Christian art. Alexandria became famous for its icon-painting workshops, where classical techniques merged with Egyptian finesse. Meanwhile, Thessaloniki's sculptors maintained links to ancient Greek marble-working traditions that later inspired Italian Renaissance masters.
The genius of Byzantine art lay in its adaptability. When artists depicted sacred subjects, they didn't copy Roman models – they transformed them. Classical drapery became more abstract and luminous, suggesting spiritual rather than physical weight. Roman spatial illusion evolved into planned hierarchies of scale and placement. Even architectural forms were reconfigured: Roman basilicas became mystical spaces where dome, light, and mosaic created what art historian Robert Ousterhout describes as "heaven on earth."
Sheet 3 of the Joshua Roll depicting Joshua and the Israelites, mid-10th century, 31 x 65 cm (Biblioteca Vaticana, Rome) [5].
The result was neither purely Roman nor Eastern, but something unprecedented: a sophisticated artistic language built on transformed classical foundations. This evolution was physical and symbolic. Just as Roman sculptures were uprooted and recontextualized in Constantinople's Christian spaces, classical techniques were adapted for new spiritual purposes. Byzantine art’s evolution reflected its growing confidence as an independent power, and not just as Rome’s heir.
When Byzantine artists later worked in Venice, they brought not just technical expertise, but a millennium of innovation that reimagined Roman heritage through an Eastern Christian lens. However, the Republic of Venice (697-1797 CE) saw further potential with this fusion.
La Serenìssima
While other Italian city-states oriented themselves toward Western Europe, the Republic of Venice built its identity looking east. From its outposts and trading ports established in the Byzantine-Venetian Treaty of 1082, Venice became the cultural broker between the Byzantine Empire and the Italian peninsula.
Through centuries of trade, Venetian merchants returned with silk, spices, manuscripts, icons, and Byzantine artists. In doing so they naturally contributed to the distribution of Byzantine art and traditions throughout the Mediterranean. This cultural exchange gave Venice its distinctive artistic character. Thus, setting it apart from the Western-oriented styles in Florence, Milan, and Rome. It was an embrace of eastern-influenced aesthetics that later inspired Renaissance masters.
This cultural osmosis turned violent in 1204 with the Fourth Crusade when Doge Enrico Dandolo diverted the crusade to Constantinople. As ships returned laden with a millennium's worth of artistic evolution after the city's sack, Venice went from Constantinople's trading partner to its self-proclaimed cultural inheritor.
Top: Reconstruction of the original façade of St. Mark’s in the 11th century, before the domes were added sometime after 1204. Bottom: Facade of St. Mark's Basilica, Venice, post 1204.
San Marco's transformation after 1204 was nothing short of shock and delight. The original 11th-century facade—a modest Byzantine-style church with low domes—turned into a dazzling testament of plunder. Venetian ships returned from Constantinople with precisely what they needed: more than 500 columns of rare marble, the iconic bronze quadriga, and countless relief sculptures. These spoils were carefully arranged to create a visual narrative of Venice's claimed inheritance. Even the church's iconic five domes, while Byzantine in origin, were raised and gilded after 1204, deliberately echoing Hagia Sophia's silhouette. This architectural appropriation made San Marco more than a church—it became a deliberate recreation of Constantinople's sacred spaces back on Italian soil, in an echo of the great migration 900 years earlier.
The San Marco Quadriga, 2nd - 3rd century AD, 96.67% Copper-bronze statue, Roman numerals are engraved on the halters and hooves of each horse (meaning unknown).
The bronze quadriga of San Marco is an undeniable symbol of this transformation. These horses, cast in classical Rome, displayed in Constantinople's Hippodrome, and finally mounted above San Marco's entrance in Venice, trace art's journey from antiquity in Rome through Constantinople to Venice. The three epoch of their lives mirror the transformation of classical art through medieval Mediterranean history, migrating from Rome east to Constantinople, and eventually back West as empires ebbed and shifted. Art is always about many things, not least of all power [6].
Pala d’Oro Altarpiece, commissioned 976 CE, Byzantine enamel, 3 x 2 meters (9.8 ft x 6.6 ft) San Marco, Venice. Enamel panels are a mix of some made in Constantinople or Italy in a Byzantine style while others were probably looted in Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade.
The Pala d'Oro altarpiece exemplifies the Byzantine-Venetian synthesis. Commissioned in 976 CE, its enamel panels—some made in Constantinople, others crafted locally in the Byzantine style, and many looted during the Fourth Crusade—culminate into a uniquely Venetian masterwork. This elaborate reliquary preserved Byzantine craftsmanship and served as a symbol of Venice's claimed inheritance of Byzantine tradition.
Venice's churches and palaces showcased this cultural fusion through specific techniques. They maintained Byzantine gold leaf backgrounds, but enhanced them with richer Venetian color palettes. They softened traditional hieratic compositions with more naturalistic elements. They preserved Byzantine symbolic color codes (blue for divinity, red for sacrifice) and integrated them into more complex spatial arrangements. In the Basilica di San Marco, Byzantine-trained artisans worked alongside Venetian artists, creating mosaics that combined Eastern spiritual symbolism with Western architectural sensibilities. The resulting style—with elongated figures, luminous surfaces, and sophisticated tesserae use—created a distinctive Venetian-Byzantine aesthetic.
The transfer of Byzantine knowledge to Venice was one path for the evolution of classical artistic traditions. While Venetian artists adapted Byzantine practices, another profound evolution took place in the Islamic world. There, scholars and artists approached classical knowledge not just as inheritance, but as a foundation for revolutionary scientific understanding. This era of enlightenment through scientific discovery contributed to the advancement of artistic techniques, traditions, and styles that would touch every corner of the Mediterranean and European world.
Islamic Illuminaries
The Islamic Golden Age (622-1258 CE) marked a crucial third path in classical traditions' legacy. While Constantinople maintained artistic techniques and Venice collected artifacts, Islamic artists and scholars approached classical knowledge systematically, transforming it through experimentation and innovation. At Baghdad's House of Wisdom (Bayt al-Hikma), scholars analyzed this classical knowledge to create innovations that influenced the East and West.
Ibn al-Haytham (965-1040) exemplified this approach in his Book of Optics (Kitab al-Manazir). Through careful observation and testing, he revolutionized Greek theories of vision by proving vision occurs through light entering the eye—not rays emitted from it as the Greeks believed. When his work reached Renaissance Italy through Latin translations, his discoveries about how light enters the eye and the camera obscura became essential tools for painters mastering perspective [7]. This tool enabled medieval artists to compete with the art produced by the ancient masters of the old Roman world.
The Freer Canteen, mid 13th century, Syria or Northern Iraq, brass / silver inlay, 45.2 x 36.7 cm (17 13/16 x 14 7/16 in), The Smithsonian National Museum of Asian Art.
This systematic approach is beautifully demonstrated in Islamic metalwork. The Freer Canteen is the only known example of its kind from the Islamic world. It is a unique 13th-century brass vessel that attests to Muslim artisans methodical analysis and advancement of classical techniques. Most likely created for a Christian patron, it depicts the Annunciation, Nativity, and Baptism of Christ with remarkable technical sophistication. Figures appear in traditional Christian poses while executed with the characteristic details of Islamic art. The angels wear iconic Byzantine court dress with jeweled borders, while Kufic and Nashki inscriptions interweave with figural scenes. This creates a unique synthesis where Byzantine imagery and Islamic calligraphy share the same visual space. The technical mastery in the inlay work—where fine silver threads create subtle shading effects—demonstrates how Islamic metalworkers advanced Roman damascening techniques far beyond its classical origins. This sophisticated object is material proof of how artisans masterfully navigated multiple artistic traditions.
The exchange extended to architecture. The Great Mosque of Damascus exemplifies how Islamic artists reimagined Byzantine traditions [8]. When Umayyad Caliph Al-Walid I needed craftsmen for his new mosque in 715 CE, he requested Byzantine mosaicists from Constantinople. These artisans brought their mastery of glass tesserae and gold leaf, but in Islamic hands, these techniques found revolutionary new expressions.
Byzantine mosaics depicted religious figures, while Islamic artists developed a sophisticated language of geometric patterns, calligraphy (especially in the angular Kufic script), and stylized vegetation. This wasn't simply about avoiding figurative representation—it was about discovering new possibilities within inherited skills. The dialogue went both ways: Byzantine churches, like the Monastery of Hosios Loukas in Greece, later incorporated Islamic-inspired patterns, demonstrating how classical artistic knowledge evolved through cultural exchange.
Conclusion
The synthesis of classical knowledge in the medieval Mediterranean reveals an unexpected truth: innovation flourishes not at the center of empires, but at their intersections. While Constantinople, Venice, and the Islamic Caliphates offer striking examples, this pattern repeated across the former Roman and now Christian world. From Britain's Celtic-Saxon-Norman fusion to Spain's Visigothic-Carthiginian-Islamic synthesis, each region developed its own distinct cultural alchemy. Yet nowhere was this transformation more dramatic than in the Eastern Mediterranean.
Each approached Rome's legacy distinctly. Constantinople stood at the crossroads of east and west, maintaining its craftsmanship while revolutionizing its purpose. Venice bridged eastern traditions back into Italy, while appropriating its symbols to forge a new identity. The Islamic Caliphates merged Mediterranean, Middle and Far Eastern practices and Islamic scholars extracted its principles to advance science and art. Together, they created the conditions for the next artistic revolution, the Renaissance... But that's for another day.
They say fortune favors the bold. For centuries, Constantinople waited at history's sideline while greater capitals claimed glory. Its harbors sheltered ships from three continents, its walls turned back 23 armies, and its markets heard a dozen languages. Yet it remained in the shadow of mightier names- Babylon, Carthage, Alexandria, Athens, Rome. Until boldness met opportunity, and an overlooked trading post was anointed its destiny as heir to empires. From this audacious moment emerged something Rome couldn't have foreseen: an artistic legacy that transcended borders and centuries.
"Our world is littered with the remains of empires that believed they were eternal," their achievements live on through bold reinvention rather than mere preservation. This is Constantinople's enduring lesson: true immortality belongs not to empires, but to the artistic visions they inspire.
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[1]
The "Dark Ages" is a term to describe the period of decline in Western Europe from the 5th century to 15th century CE. It is argued by some to be a pejorative term. It won't surprise you to hear I have a strong opinion on this: it's a dark period not because of the decline, but because it was a period with relatively limited written records and historical documentation compared to other periods, making it difficult to study and understand... Also, while the "decline" perhaps is over empathised, the period doesn't sound like a great time to be alive from what we know about it anyway?
[2]
Editors Note: "Hippo" is the Ancient Greek word for horse. One of the more disappointing moments in my childhood was learning that a "hippodrome" was for the Kentucky Derby, NOT for hippo racing. In happier news, hippopotamus means "river horse", which is adorable. I also learned "hippo" in Ancient Greek can mean 'like a swift current'. It's hilarious to think that the first Greeks were most likely charged by a hippo and thought "that's swift like a current!" and not "that looks like a water horse". In case you're curious a zebra in Ancient Greek is "hippotigris" meaning "horse-tiger" which I guess makes sense.
[3]
Giotto (unknown-1337) and Cimabue (1240-1302) later reestablished the influence of naturalism in Italian art.
[4]
Recent micro-CT scans of the Pantocrator revealed that the artist used different pigment recipes for each side of the face. The human side uses classical Roman flesh tones, while the divine side incorporates exotic materials from the East.
[5]
If you look closely, the top floating figures on the Joshua Roll resemble the Tiber river god statue in Rome. The river god motif and pose is a popular canon in art history.
Ancient Roman allegory of Tiber River. Campidoglio, Rome, Italy. The twins Romulus and Remus, mythical founders of Rome, who were saved from Tiber's waters, play in the left corner with the she-wolf that fed them.
[6]
The horses' journey is even wilder than that. It was Roman-cast around the time of Marcus Aurelius or Septimius Severus, taken to Constantinople, stolen by Venice in 1204, stolen by Napoleon in 1797 and taken to Paris, returned to Venice in 1915, hidden from World War II bombs, and now preserved indoors while copies stand outside. Typing this spiked my anxiety.
[7]
Ibn al-Haytham was the first to explain why magnifying glasses work. Next time you use your phone to zoom in on an artwork, thank a medieval Islamic scientist.
[8]
The Damascus mosaics use tesserae cut at different angles to create varying light effects, a technique documented in Roman texts, but perfected by Byzantine craftsmen. When the light hits just right, the trees seem to move in a non-existent breeze.
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Through our newsletter we deepen our market understanding, unlock value for our clients, and cultivate a diverse audience of intelligent and inquisitive individuals who are not traditional art world participants. We recognize a broad demand for insightful critique of art and the art world, plus an under explored dynamic interplay with the growing market for Digital Art. As we develop innovative products to engage and expand our audience; we are committed to creating value in the art market.