We analyze the artistic and material culture of the Scythians, and put a critical eye on the term "Scytho-Siberian Culture."
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/NomadsandEmpires
Twitter: https://twitter.com/NomadEmpiresPod
Substack: https://nomadsandempirespodcast.substack.com/
We analyze the artistic and material culture of the Scythians, and put a critical eye on the term "Scytho-Siberian Culture."
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/NomadsandEmpires
Twitter: https://twitter.com/NomadEmpiresPod
Substack: https://nomadsandempirespodcast.substack.com/
The city of Olbia was renowned across the known world. Sitting along the Bug River and the mighty Black Sea, Olbia had witnessed countless numbers of Greek settlers flow through the city. Like the tides, their numbers ebbed constantly. New arrivals made their way for a whole host of reasons: adventure, war, love. Those that left made their way across the known world; some left for the Crimean Peninsula, or as the Greeks would have known it, Taurica. Others journeyed to Asia Minor or back to the Greek homelands.
To support such consistent movements, Olbia would be home to great dockyards. Shipwrights were always hard at work; as were the merchants and artisans. The sounds of hammers and axes filled the air like a light symphony of percussive instruments. Commerce was abound and thriving.
And yet, the most striking sounds came from the smiths. Men were hard at work at their craft. Sparks and radiant metals glistened in the air. Hot iron screamed as it was submerged in cool water. As one walked along the smithies, one could see bronze weapons, copper trinkets, and silver luxuries. Scale armor, goblets, circlets, and all sorts of items could be made by the great smiths of Olbia.
There was one material of particular importance, sought after by Greeks and others alike. Gold. In a particular corner of Olbia, master smiths were hard at work. They were crafting fineries unlike anything seen in the known world. One man was creating a belt adorned with the Greek gods. Another man crafted an ornate comb depicting several warriors engaged in combat. There was one smith creating a headpiece decorated with stag motifs, while another went about adding precious gems to a gorytos.
What is interesting here is that their patrons were not the wealthy Greeks. These goods were not being exported to the lands of Persia, Asia Minor, or Carthage. No, these products were for one particular client: the Scythians. Here in Olbia, like many other settlements on the Black Sea coasts, goldsmiths were hard at work creating luxury goods for the horse lords of the Pontic steppe.
And welcome back to the Nomads and Empires podcast, episode 18. Today, it’s going to be a shorter and more targeted episode, as we’re going to dive briefly into the material culture of the Scythians. Throughout this show, it’s been hard to describe some of the more physical characteristics of the peoples we’ve discussed. This means we’ve had limited details on aspects like artistry and craft making. It’s important to consider not just the historical elements of a culture, but what they produced and why.
And thankfully, the Scythians provide us a strikingly large volume of crafted goods that we can examine. Due to the visual nature of this episode, I’m going to include pictures of many of the artifacts I’ll be discussing on my Substack, so look for the transcript there. If you’re not already subscribed, check it out at nomadsandempirespodcast.substack.com.
When we think of Scythian material culture, we first are confronted by a single term that pervades nearly everything else: the Scytho-Siberian culture. A number of authors use this term when talking about the physical goods recovered in Scythian kurgans, whether those artifacts come from Hungary or all the way in the Sayan-Altai. The reason for this is because these artifacts share strikingly similar characteristics. A golden stag found in the Kuban region and dated to the sixth century BCE looks remarkably close to a fourth century golden stag found in the Kul-Oba kurgan of the Pontic region. It is this material culture that led scholars to identify a common identity throughout the Eurasian steppes in this period.
The Scytho-Siberian artstyle can be defined by a few key qualities. First, there was an emphasis on animalistic motifs, something that we’ll dive on in a short while. Secondly, Scythian art often portrayed these animal motifs in a sort of “crouched or coiled” form. We can think of images like elongated stags, positioned hawks, and so forth. Some artifacts are adorned by tendrils and flowers, contributing further to this sort of coiled look.
Scholars believe that the origins of this artstyle derive from the Karasuk and Tagar cultures. This means that the Scytho-Siberian artstyle heralds from the Minusinsk Basin. This is not surprising; the area is quite close to the Arzhan kurgans, and so this area being the genesis of the Scythians and their artstyle is a connection that makes sense. In the Minusinsk Basin, we can find stones with animal carvings, perhaps an early predecessor to the later metallic objects of the Scytho-Siberian artstyle. Tagar artifacts, for example, depicted animals like boars and stags, and they would adorn these depictions on knife handles and horse gear.
We can see these early lineages in Scythian crafts. Indeed, objects made in the Scytho-Siberian style focused on several major motifs, and one major emphasis was that of steppe life. Like the Tagar culture, artifacts that depicted animals like stags, horses, and wolves were common. Many of the animals represented in art were common creatures that roamed the forest steppes and mountains. Such animal imagery would then be crafted into a sort of geometric style. A golden feline artifact recovered in Siberia looks almost like an ouroboros, with the being nearly consuming its own tail.
Professor Barry Cunliffe makes the point that such artistry contained deep meanings for the Scythians. As he puts it, “[art] was seldom, if ever, for art’s sake.” Deers and stags were considered beasts of reverence; such creatures may even be representations of life itself. The presence of predators in Scythian art may have acted as reminders of the harsh realities of the steppe. Hawks, wolves, and mountain lions were always ready to capture a sheep from one’s flock. As the professor puts it, “life’s struggle was ever present: it was the very essence of being and it is no surprise that it became a central theme in Scythian art. How the struggle was conceptualized to fit into a world view of the supernatural, we can only guess at, but the deer, or its herbivore substitutes, may have been conceived of as the Tree of Life sustaining a world always in tension.”
In many ways, this theme of tension clashes with the art found in the contemporary neighbors of the Scythians. Although cultural diffusion will play a major role in changing Scythian art, one key difference comes from these animal motifs and the tension of life. The flowery prose of Rene Grousset is perfect here.
“Steppe art is thus in direct contrast to that of neighboring sedentary peoples… and in the very field where they have most in common: scenes of hunting and of fighting animals… Steppe artists, whether Scythians or Huns, show scuffles-often as entangled as thickets of lianas-between animals locked in death struggles. Theirs is a dramatic art of crushed limbs, of horses or deer seized by leopards, bears, birds of prey, or griffins, the bodies of the victims being often wrenched completely round. No swiftness here, no flight; instead, a patient and methodical tearing of throats in which… the victim appears to drag the slayer to his death.”
While animals represented one of the largest themes in Scythian art, other topics were present. Other scenes from steppe life can be found. Imagery of a horseback rider was attached to a Scythian rod. The Solokha cup, dated to the fourth century BCE, showcases a hunting scene with two horsemen, while the Chermtomlyk amphora has an amazing scene that describes the entire process of taming a wild horse.
Scenes of warfare were also quite common. The famous Solokha comb shows a mounted warrior charging into a foot soldier. The detail here is striking. Made of gold, the comb contains a “mounted warrior [who] is heavily armored, wearing a tunic of mail, metal greaves, and a metal helmet, the latter two being both of Greek type. He carries his shield on his left arm and holds a short spear in his right hand. His gorytos hangs on his left side.” The other figures in the comb are similarly detailed, and so we can witness here a level of material sophistication that one may not have expected on the steppes. Needless to say, depictions of war are rather common, and various jugs, scabbards, and even ceremonial helmets show such scenes.
Indeed, these motifs, whether they be of animals or war, can be found across a number of different items. The Scytho-Siberian artstyle could be found on bowls, vessels, weapon holders. They included, as previously mentioned, helmets, combs, and plates. The Scythians created these artifacts from a number of different materials. Bone, bronze, and silver can be found on many different objects. Perhaps the most significant of these, however, was Scythian gold. It is, indeed, gold that would take center stage for Scythian craftsmen and for modern archaeologists. As explained by the scholar Esther Jacobson, where the artifacts of other peoples, like the Greeks and Achaemenids, were lost to time, the golden works of the Scythians were found in troves, and so, these artifacts became important windows into the murky waters of Antiquity.
Evidence from the Arzhan kurgans suggest that the Scythians were experienced gold and bronze smithers for a very long time. Indeed, to produce such metallic items and to then shape these elaborate designs would have taken incredible smithing and technique. To create many of these items, Scythian craftsmen would have needed workshops and furnaces that could heat to over 1,000 degrees celsius. Furthermore, craftsmen would have needed to utilize fairly sophisticated techniques. Some artifacts were created through granulation, soldering, and riveting. Others were produced via casting and pressed sheets. In all cases, specialized tools were needed. Chisels, casting molds, and engraving tools were all necessary to create fine details. Over time, the Scythians would employ Greeks and other peoples as smiths, but during the earlier centuries, we can expect a large degree of domestic production, and therefore, the Scythians possessed a rather high degree of metalworking.
Beyond these tools, the Scythians would also need raw materials to produce such objects. Metals like gold and bronze were, of course, needed, but there were others. Rare gems were embedded into many artifacts, so Scythian smiths would have needed to source these as well. Enamel, which was made from powdered glass, was used decoratively in a number of items. Although some items could be found in their own lands, gold after all was common in the Altai Mountains, others could not, and so the Scythians would have needed to look internationally.
For instance, resources like precious gems and metals were sourced from far-off lands like Persia and China. Rubies and lapis lazuli were mined in places such as Badakhshan before ending up in the hands of Scythian smiths. The Pontic Scythians traded furs and cattle to the Greeks for bronze tools. In other cases, Scythian leaders may have established a large area for tribute and the extraction of precious minerals. In all of these cases, the Scythians clearly established a wide avenue to procure key resources for their artistic productions. Evidence from the Arzhan kurgan, which we have revisited so many times now, suggests that many steppe groups developed wide-ranging international ties to procure these important resources. The people of Arzhan 2 were able to import gold, turquoise, amber, and other such goods.
These trade relations almost certainly impacted the Scythian artstyle. Rene Grousset even asserts that the Scythians had holistically been influenced by the artistic culture of Assyria. This influence would explain why some Scythian artifacts exhibit odd motifs, like depictions of ibexes. Other animals, like lions, griffins, and bird-headed deer, also begin to appear in Scythian crafts. Such cultural diffusion may have occurred during the brief period of time in which Scythian warriors fought for the Assyrians and later dominated the ancient Near East. From there, foreign influences would encroach into the different Scythian localities. Those in Central Asia came into close contact with Persia, and we find Scythian jewelry that closely resembled artifacts from the Achaemenids.
One of the most famous relationships we find is that of between the Pontic Scythians and the Black Sea Greek colonists. Greek goldsmiths in cities like Olbia were renowned for their skill, and eventually a sort of symbiotic relationship would emerge between the Scythians and the Greeks. We find Greek religious motifs popping up in Scythian artifacts. As we mentioned on episode 17, it is very likely that the Scythians and Greeks began to connect their own indigenous gods with their cultural counterpart, hence why the Scythian Papaios was often associated with the Greek Zeus. Shields and other gear would start to display representations of famous Greek figures and scenes. Some artifacts contained depictions of what appear to be Gorgons.
Now, there appears to be substantial debate on how to fully attribute these artifacts. How can one determine the difference between artifacts made by Pontic Greek smiths and those made by Scythian smiths? The answer seems inconclusive. In the past, scholars made a clear line: the Scythians, being nomadic peoples, would never depict human motifs. Their work would only follow the animalistic art style we’ve mentioned thus far. This idea may be somewhat true, though Esther Jacobson asserts that such views are not definitive. Other potential markers for an artifact being of Scythian origin include the size of an object, as the Scythians appear to have “preferred a massiveness that has little counterpart in Greek work.” Artifacts that were made from casts are also potentially non-Scythian, though again, Jacobson warns us from making such divisions concrete. The idea that Scythian-derived art must be made from “rough techniques” may actually be a denigrating way of asserting that nomadic art could never be as sophisticated as settled art.
Whatever the case may be, it is clear that the Scythians incorporated foreign elements into their own work. Foreign craftsmen, meanwhile, almost certainly worked with Scythian patrons to create artifacts that came from several different heritages. It is only in this Pontic environment, where the steppe met with the urban Black and Aegean seas, that this mixing of artistic, cultural ideas could occur.
It is here where I want to end off with some considerations. The fact that the Scythians were able to present us with this mass trove of artifacts is astounding in several ways. One, these goods offer us insight into their direct world. Through their artistic motifs, we learn about the settings and values of the Scythians. Images of pastoral life and the natural world provide us a lens into what daily life was like, what hardships existed, and what things were celebrated. Other crafts show us their gods and folk tales and cosmological beliefs.
Secondly, these artifacts prove to us that the Scythians were engaged in a wide series of trade networks. Rather than being isolated individuals, the Scythians were merchants, seeking materials from afar and wide to use in their own crafts. They were not simply isolationists who rode off solely to raid border villages. Though warfare and tribute likely played some role in the procurement of key resources, the Scythians would need other, more commercial means, to secure the vast quantities of precious materials that were needed. Furthermore, the Scythians likely used their own gold reserves in their own work, which meant that they would need sophisticated mining practices to bring up such a resource.
Finally, the Scytho-Siberian artstyle shows to us that the Scythians were not simply warriors or raiders. They had developed a long tradition of metalsmithing, with fully realized motifs that were incorporated into their artistic works. Their domestic crafts contained a level of sophistication that, on the outset, seems incredulous for a nomadic steppe people. It is this particular point that needs reminding at times. Metalsmithing likely was a key skill on the steppe. Great leaders, such as Tumen Khagan of the First Turkic Khaganate, was none other than a smith of the Rouran. Other individuals would have names that derive from some sort of smithing motif. Temujin, the true name of the famous Genghis Khan, means blacksmith. Since the very earliest days of the steppe, metalworking was an integral part of their lives and culture.
And with that, I think that’s it. A bit of a shorter episode today, but I wanted to talk about the artistic culture of a steppe people. We often find ourselves lacking in material goods to explain these groups, and so the Scythians offer us an amazing window into a world we seldom have. Next time, we finally start the narrative. We will begin by analyzing the origin myths of the Scythians, and fully assessing where the Scythians began.
Finally, I wanted to announce something really special. I have finally created a Patreon, which you can find at https://www.patreon.com/NomadsandEmpires. There’s really no need to donate, and I will continue to make my content ad free and available to all individuals, but your support would mean a lot. I do everything from the research, writing, and podcast hosting, so anything helps! But with that said, thank you all, and see you next time on the windy plains of the Eurasian steppe.
Music:
Gavin Luke - No War (Epidemic Sound)