In his introductory treatise on the state of Greek art, J. J. Pollitt speaks to the prevailing notion that Greek thought was dominated by the need to impose order over chaos.¹J. J. Pollitt, Art and Experience in Classical Greece (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996): 3 These concerns often permeated the Greek psyche and are evident in the development of their artistic traditions following the Mycenaean collapse. Prior to the Classical era, Greek art had already undergone a substantial amount periodization and transformation that served as antecedents to the artistic and philosophical developments of the fifth century BCE. Greek expression, both in literature and art, was often defined by a desire to rationalize their world, and its themes sought to confront the uncertainties that plagued their sense of identity.

The formation of this Hellenic identity was not an immediate response to the Persian defeat at the Battle of Plataea in 479. This is crucial, as our portrait of the Greek condition is often tinted by the cultural enlightenment that defined artistic expression of the High Classical period. The Parthenon in Athens, for instance, is often cited as the pinnacle of Greek civilization, espousing ideals and narratives that were both civic and national in significance. Yet understanding the true nature of the Parthenon requires a more nuanced approach, keeping in mind that the artists and politicians responsible for its creation inherited a complex cultural and ideological legacy that that stretches back centuries. A concern that is often overlooked in the study of art in this period is one that suggests that Greek pursuit of the ideal was in fact, a response to deep-seated anxieties regarding both themselves and the state of their national enterprise. The construction of this new identity required a great deal of introspection, one that was rooted in unease as much as it was in hubris. One must therefore entertain the possibility that the Parthenon was not simply a triumphal manifestation of Greek achievements, but a monument that both obfuscates and reveals the fragility of their psyche at a time of political and societal upheaval.  

Before the nature of the Parthenon’s ideals may be examined, one must first understand why it was built, the contexts behind its construction. Leslie Shear makes note that the commencement of Pericles’ building program coincided with the transfer of the Delian treasury to Athens.²Leslie Shear, Trophies of Victory: Public Building in Periklean Athens (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University, 2016), 22. This once again, suggests that the construction of the Parthenon may have been an opportunistic act meant to cement Athenian hegemony over the Greeks, rather than a celebration of their triumph. With peace finally having been secured with the Persians, the leaders of Athens needed a new enterprise to cement their nascent power in the face of continuing internal strife within the League.

Built to embody the greatness of the Athenian endeavour, the Parthenon demanded a high level of accuracy and attention to detail in all aspects of its construction, as well as an awareness of the existing space within the Acropolis complex. However, it was not the first example of monumental temple construction. The structural conventions that the Parthenon was constructed around had already been established in its Archaic antecedents such as the Temple of Artemis on Corfu, and the Hekatompedon, which had existed on the Acropolis site before Xerxes’ sacking of Athens.³Alison Burford, “The Builders of the Parthenon,” Greece & Rome 10 (1963): 23. What is notable is the refinements that were applied upon these existing conventions that elevated the Parthenon to an idealized perfection never before seen in Greek temples. Yet in the Classical period, the formal construction of perfection had given way to adjustments that focused on instilling a perception of perfection instead. Percy Gardner writes that the Parthenon was not meant to be ‘mathematically accurate but adapted to the eye of the spectator’.⁴Percy Gardner and Reginald Theodore, Greek Art and Architecture (London, Oxford University Press, H. Milford, 1922), 39.

Deviations from architectural canon such as the entasis of the Parthenon’s columns and curvature of the stylobate meant to counter optical distortions endemic to structures of this magnitude and create the illusion of perfection in the eyes of the Athenians. The increased concern regarding the perception of form rather than material form aligns with the philosophical transition towards humanistic ideals in the Greek world. This is reflected when Aristotle muses about the ‘true object’ of temple architecture not being that of its material but the composition and totality of form.⁵Arist. Hist. An. 1.5 It is entirely within the realm of possibility that the Parthenon’s architects had elected to make the structure elicit a subjective response in the consciousness of the viewer, the temple being constituent of a larger experience; what it meant to be Athenian. Yet this veneer of perfection was an apt metaphor for the anxieties that lingered among the Athenian society, namely the notion that achieving perfection was, like the Parthenon’s visual conventions, just an illusion.

The pursuit of the ideal is an aspect of the Parthenon that extends beyond its architectural language, and into its sculptural programme. In the ninety-two metopes that ring the Parthenon’s entablature are relief carvings, each showing different variations of what appears to be a man engaged with various enemies. While no ancient texts exist to speak to their exact significance, much meaning can be discerned by relating the scenes to historical and philosophical developments in Athens. For instance, one possible interpretation of the southern metopes is that they are an allegorical presentation of the Centauromachy, in which the heroes of Greece are locked in a titanic struggle against a group of Centaurs at a wedding who had attempted to rape a virgin bride. This myth is referenced in the Iliad, where the Athenian hero Theseus slaughters these ‘mountain-inhabiting beasts’.⁶Hom. Il. 1.259-73 The southern metopes at least, may have been an attempt to allegorically invoke Homeric mythology to espouse Athenian triumphs over the forces of chaos and barbarism.

Yet one must also pay close attention to the visual and compositional formulae of these narratives, for an alternate interpretation may exist. The figuration of the man and centaur for instance, is much more realized and developed than the rigid caricatures of the Archaic period. This was most likely by design, making the narratives more relatable to the human condition, and contributing to the allegorical presentation of the metopes. If one observes the interaction of the figures contained within, their poses are dynamic and evoke an ongoing tension that remains rather consistent in the other scenes. It depicts a titanic struggle between these two beings, and even the Centaur is assigned humanistic qualities. There is no evidence that centaur nor man has the upper hand here, which ascribes a sense of sobriety to the narrative being portrayed. This suggests that the metopic sculptures were in fact a reflection of the ongoing tensions and conflicts that plagued Athenian society, rather than a depiction of victory over an external force like the Persians.

The metopic reliefs of the Parthenon exemplify that the Athenians were not afraid to present mythology in a fashion that married it with their own civic narratives. The pedimental sculptures of the Parthenon are further exemplary of this marriage, showcasing idealized narratives surrounding the city’s origins. Unlike the metopes however, textual evidence exists from Pausanias regarding the subject matter that is portrayed.

“As you enter the temple that they name the Parthenon, all the sculptures you see on what is called the pediment refer to the birth of Athena, those on the rear pediment represent the contest for the land between Athena and Poseidon.”

Pausanias, Description of Greece (1.24.5)

The depiction of Olympian deities on temple pediments was new phenomena, yet in their presence in the Parthenon marks a significant departure from past conventions regarding their presentation. Phidias’ depiction of the gods on the Parthenon is unique in a sense that it makes clear the inherent connection between them and the living world more so than any of its antecedents.⁷Evelyn B. Harrison, “Athena and Athens in the East Pediment of the Parthenon,” American Journal of Archaeology 71, no. 1 (January 1967): 27. The synthesis of mythos with ethos was also a notable development, symptomatic of the emergent humanism that has been discussed before, with each of the pediments relating to the Athenian world in a different way. There may be grounds to say that they differ enough in their presentation that one could be an antithesis to the other.

The eastern pediment depicting the birth of Athena is arguably the most significant of the two, being the one that adorns the entrance to the Parthenon. This scene was of great iconographical significance to Athens, so much so that it was vandalized by Christians in the fifteenth century.⁸Martin Robertson, “The Sculptures of the Parthenon,” Greece & Rome 10 (1963): 57. Unfortunately, this destruction has left scholars unable to deduce with certainty the exact composition of the central motif, though most agree that Zeus and Athena were the focal points. Evelyn Harrison proposes referencing the compositional qualities of the western pediment in suggesting that the figures of Zeus and Athena radiated with an explosive energy, much in the same way the statues of Athena and Poseidon did in the west pediment.⁹Evelyn B. Harrison, “Athena and Athens in the East Pediment of the Parthenon,” 29. Sculptural technique had undergone such refinements from the Archaic era that figures done in high relief could now jump out of the architectural envelope and exist in the same space as the viewer. This may have been deliberate on Phidias’ part, designed to bring Athena away from the cosmos and into the world of the Athenians, exemplifying the birth of not only the patron goddess of the city, but of Athens itself. Having Athena spring from Zeus was most likely meant to cement the fact that Athens’ divine provenance as the greatest of all the Greek cities.

The western pediment on the other hand, brings to earth the fabled conflict between Athena and Poseidon over the right to rule the city. Flanking the two in contest are the ancient kings and heroes of Athens, which gives credence to the idea that the west pediment was more historical and less allegorical in nature than its eastern counterpart.¹⁰W. R. Lethaby, “The West Pediment of the Parthenon,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 50, no. 1 (November 1930): 8. This could explain Phidias choosing to utilize Poseidon in the civic narrative of Athens. The myth of Athena claiming victory over Poseidon is one that carries historical significance in Athenian history. Poseidon’s defeat at Athena’s hand may have alluded to Athenian naval supremacy over the Aegean, the sea being the domain of Poseidon, now humbled in the light of Athenian peace.¹¹Andras Patay-Horvath, “The Contest between Athena and Poseidon. Myth, History and Art,” Historika : Studi Di Storia Greca e Romana 5, no. 1 (November 2016): 357. Yet the compositional tension between the two central figures alludes to an ongoing strain within the Athenian psyche – that peace was not a guarantee. On the cyclical nature of conflict, Apollodorus writes:

“And in accordance with their verdict the country was adjudged to Athena, because Cecrops bore wit-ness that she had been the first to plant the olive. Athena, therefore, called the city Athens after herself, and Poseidon in hot anger flooded the Thriasian plain and laid Attica under the sea”

Apollodorus, Library. (3.14.7)

The position of Athena and Poseidon on the west pediment seem to indicate an even contest between the two opposing forces, and neither figure seems to be either triumphal or in submission. Hierarchic scale is not employed here, which supports Apollodorus’ notion of Poseidon serving as a divine countenance to Athenian hubris, and their notions of greatness. It may also explain why the narrative was placed in an area of lesser prominence, on the west end of the temple.

Much consideration has been given to the Parthenon’s external decorations, though equal care must be given to the true purpose of the Parthenon, which was that it was built to house the massive cult statue of Athena Parthenos, one of Phidias’ finest works. Built as a testament to the greatness of Athens, it was also a monument of hubris and excessive grandeur that underscored a sense of insecurity that was prevalent in the city. Pausanias once again offers a lengthy description of the statue, which is described to be the goddess in triumph, holding Nike, the goddess of victory, in her right hand.¹²Paus. 1.24.5 Pausanias’ description of the statue for the most part shows that the statue’s details maintain a thematic concordance with the relief sculptures on the temple’s exterior, namely Athens’ triumph over the forces of barbarism.¹³Paus. 1.24.5 According to Cicero, the Parthenos was an embodiment of a Phidian idealism that was grounded in an imaginary standard of beauty, rather than one that was grounded in humanism.¹⁴Grant Showerman, “Cicero’s Appreciation of Greek Art,” The American Journal of Philology 25, no. 3 (1904): 309. This would seem to suggest that Phidias had sought to maintain some sort of division between Athena the goddess and her people, who were in the presence of an ideal that was in truth, unattainable.

There is also one further piece of evidence that may serve to undermine the idealistic qualities of the Athena Parthenos. Situated on the pedestal of the statue is a narrative frieze depicting the birth of Pandora, who in Greek myth is credited as being the first human woman created by the gods. Yet Pandora’s presence juxtaposed on the statue of the goddess of wisdom would have been a source of tension for Athenians familiar with the myth of Pandora. In Theogony, Hesiod refers to Pandora’s offspring as a ‘deadly race’ who live among men ‘to their great trouble’.¹⁵Hes. Th. 590-593 It seems rather ironic and counterintuitive that Phidias would have chosen the myth of Pandora to adorn a statue whose purpose was to extol the greatness of Athens and its patron goddess. Jeffrey Hurwit suggests this may have been intentional on Phidias’ part, perhaps an injection of subversive commentary regarding the status of women in Athenian society.¹⁶Jeffrey M. Hurwit, “Beautiful Evil: Pandora and the Athena Parthenos,” American Journal of Archaeology 99, no. 2 (April 1995): 178. If one looks at Aeschylus’ writing, it is actually shown that Athena was complicit in the defense of Athenian patriarchy. When she speaks of the circumstances of her birth, she says:

“There is no mother to give birth to me, and I praise the male in all things.”

Aeschylus, Eumenides. (662-66)

This goes to suggest that the statue of the virgin Parthenos was in fact, an embodiment of Athenian patriarchy, and that the presence of Pandora was meant to highlight Athena’s role in Pandora’s birth. Hurwit goes on to argue that the presence of Pandora was designed to evoke a dissonance within the viewer and was representative of the fact that the presence of evil was inevitable; a universal truth that must be confronted.¹⁷Jeffrey M. Hurwit, “Beautiful Evil: Pandora and the Athena Parthenos,” 186. To the intellectual Athenian, this dissonance would surely mar the statue’s patriotic veneer.

For a society whose philosophy was increasingly trending towards humanistic tendencies, it seems rather strange that the Athenians had chosen a god to embody their civic nationalism and pride. The construction of the Parthenon coincided with the need for Athens to establish its hegemony over the Delian states, and as such could be very well a product of Pericles’ hubris, rather than a monument that represented the collective dreams of the Athenians. Plutarch makes note that the completion of the Parthenon happened entirely within Pericles’ tenure as leader, which suggests that his patronage of the arts may have had something to do with the preservation of his own legacy, above that of his city.¹⁸Plut. Per. 13.1

The Parthenon is often widely recognized as the pinnacle of Ancient Greek civilization and artistic expression. To say it was not a significant and monumental achievement on the part of the Athenians would be untruthful, though ignoring its nuances would be equally so. The Periclean Age in which the Parthenon was built was often considered to be the ‘Golden Age’ of Athens, and by extension that of Greece. Yet this moniker does a disservice to the true history of the period, which was rife with tension. Athens had taken control of the Delian treasury, which had evoked a strong response from League’s client states. Peace with the Persians had only been formalized in the middle of the century, and by then Athens’ mortal enemies, the Spartans had already begun to agitate. It would be unreasonable to suggest that the fifth century was entirely a period of peace and prosperity. It must be considered that the Parthenon was just as much an embodiment of these anxieties, as it was of the newfound confidence the Athenians had in the virtues of their society. In every aspect of the Parthenon’s construction and presentation, if one looks carefully, these underlying anxieties become increasingly evident.

From the ashes of the Persian War came a new awareness within the Greek psyche, one that posited man as the agent of transformative change, or in the words of Protogoras, the measure of all things. Yet what happens when man reaches a state of perfection? The Athenians must have grappled with this apprehension during the fifth century, when they perceived themselves to be at their cultural zenith. If the artistic and cultural expression of Ancient Greece was largely defined by the desire to impose order over chaos, then the construction of the Parthenon was just another iteration of this philosophy, a way for the Athenians to make sense of themselves in an uncertain world. Yet beneath the veneer of the Parthenon’s illusion of perfection lies a quintessential truth about the artistic and philosophical developments of the Classical period: that they were in fact, a pursuit of an ideal that was unsustainable in the long term.