Meta Description: Join Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle in the Vomitorium as they analyze the Dipylon Vase. We explore Horror Vacui (fear of empty space), the Greek Dark Ages, and why Edward Hopper is the antidote to geometric anxiety.
Introduction: Balmy Days and “Mr. Doctor”
Welcome back to the “Vomitorium,” listeners! In Episode 15 of the Ad Navseam Podcast, hosts Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle gather once again for a delectable discussion of Greco-Roman civilization.
It is a “balmy” day in the studio—or at least an “adequate level of balmyness”—which is the perfect climate for discussing one of the most intense psychological and artistic concepts in history: Horror Vacui. The hosts are in high spirits, with Dr. Winkle affectionately referring to his co-host as “Mr. Doctor David Noe,” a title that stacks honorifics in a way that would make a German academic proud.
Before diving into the ancient clay, we send a warm shout-out to our new friend Paul Wright from Charlottesville, Virginia. Like everyone else who listens, he has recently ascended to the upper echelons of taste.
Today’s topic centers on a specific phobia that manifests in art: the fear of empty space. We are traveling back to 750 BC, to the end of the Greek Dark Ages, to examine a massive ceramic masterpiece known as the Dipylon Vase.
A Tour of Phobias: From Ferns to Peanut Butter
To set the stage, the hosts take a delightful detour through the landscape of human fear. If Horror Vacui is the fear of empty space, what else keeps the classicist up at night?
Dr. Noe admits to a “Home Depot Phobia”—the fear of leaving projects unfinished—and a touch of Acrophobia (fear of heights), specifically when climbing man-made structures like the cupola of St. Peter’s Basilica. Dr. Winkle adds Sarcophobia (fear of flesh) to the mix, noting that climbing the dome combines being high up, enclosed in tight spaces, and surrounded by people.
Dr. Winkle then runs through a lexicon of Greek-based phobias that range from the terrifying to the bizarre:
- Catagelophobia: The fear of being ridiculed (literally “bad laughter”). This is why the podcast has no guest hosts.
- Coulrophobia: The fear of clowns. Dr. Noe strangely does not share this fear, despite the existence of Stephen King’s It. Dr. Winkle rightly points out that clowns exist in an “uncanny, liminal space” that is objectively horrifying .
- Ephebophobia: The fear of teenagers. As Dr. Winkle notes, teenagers are “potent in their sarcasm” and see right through adults, making this a very rational fear for any teacher.
- Koumpounophobia: The fear of buttons. This leads Dr. Noe to endorse the “Go with the Cro” (Velcro) lifestyle.
- Pteridophobia: The fear of ferns. Dr. Winkle notes you “can’t be fronds with a fern”.
- Arachibutyrophobia: The fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. A fear neither host suffers from, given their high peanut butter consumption.
- Alektorophobia: The fear of chickens. Dr. Noe dismisses this, arguing that chickens are too stupid to be scary.
But the phobia of the hour is Kenophobia (Greek) or Horror Vacui (Latin).
Defining Horror Vacui: Satan in the Margins?
What is Horror Vacui? Literally, it translates to “fear of the empty.” In a theological context, Dr. Winkle cites a fascinating theory by poet Nick Flynn regarding medieval illuminated manuscripts. Flynn suggests that early Christian scribes used scriptio continua (writing without spaces or punctuation) because they feared that Satan would fly into the empty spaces between the words.
While the hosts agree this is a clever idea, they dismiss it as historically dubious. As Dr. Noe points out, Satan is an immaterial being; if he wanted to sit between two words, a lack of ink wouldn’t stop him.
In art history, however, Horror Vacui is very real. It refers to the obsession with filling every square inch of a surface with detail, ornament, or figure. We see it in Where’s Waldo books, Islamic Art, Egyptian Hieroglyphs, and the underground comics of the 1960s.
The Counterpoint: Hopper and the “Psycho” House
To understand the “filled” space, you must understand the “empty” space. Dr. Winkle contrasts the busy Greek style with the work of American painter Edward Hopper.
Hopper’s famous works, like Nighthawks, utilize vast, empty spaces to create a sense of loneliness and menace.
The hosts focus on Hopper’s 1925 painting, House by the Railroad. It depicts a lonely, Victorian house standing in isolation.
- The Look: Dr. Noe notes it has no gables (sorry, Hawthorne), but features long rectangular windows and a porch jutting out.
- The Legacy: This painting is widely believed to be the visual inspiration for the Bates Motel house in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. Hitchcock understood that emptiness is terrifying. The Greeks, apparently, felt the same way—but their solution was to fill the void, while Hopper’s was to stare into it.
The Historical Context: The Greek Dark Ages
To understand the Dipylon Vase, we must understand the world that produced it. The vase dates to the Late Geometric Period (c. 750 BC). This is the tail end of the “Greek Dark Ages”—a centuries-long slump following the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces (after the Trojan War, c. 1183 BC).
Dr. Noe explains the markers of this bleak period:
- Depopulation: Cities were abandoned.
- Loss of Luxury: Gold and ivory disappear from the archaeological record.
- Technological Regression: Bronze is replaced by iron (a harder metal, but a sign of lost trade routes for tin).
- The Dorian Invasion: A new Greek subculture (ancestors of the Spartans) migrated in, coinciding with the decline.
But around 750 BC, the lights started coming back on. We see the rise of the polis, the return of literacy (Homer and Hesiod), and a surge in artistic complexity. The pottery reflects this shift from the simple Proto-Geometric style to the “Big Enchilada” of the Late Geometric.
Interlude: Can You Spare a Square?
In another moment of levity, the hosts roll a clip featuring Elaine Benes from Seinfeld:
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t spare it… I don’t have a square to spare.”.
It is a fitting tribute to a podcast about “Horror Vacui”—sometimes, the scariest emptiness is the one on the toilet paper roll.
The Masterpiece: The Dipylon Vase
The Dipylon Vase is a monumental amphora standing about 1.5 meters (nearly 6 feet) tall. It was found near the Dipylon Gate (“Double Gate”) in Athens, which leads to the Kerameikos—the potters’ quarter and the city’s main cemetery.
The Manufacturing Process: Dr. Noe details how such a beast was made. The clay was dug from the banks of the Kerameikos River, placed in vats of water to settle out impurities (purification), and then turned on a wheel in sections. These sections were joined so seamlessly that the vase appears to be a single piece, a testament to the returning technical skill of the Greeks.
The Decoration:
This vase is the ultimate example of Horror Vacui. There is not a single “square to spare.”
- The Meander: The Greek Key pattern runs in bands, symbolizing the waves of the sea or perhaps eternal life (no beginning, no end).
- The Animals: Bands of geometric goats or horses graze around the neck.
- The Prothesis: The central band depicts a funeral scene.
The Prothesis: Geometric Grief
The heart of the vase is the Prothesis scene—the laying out of the body. In the center, the deceased woman lies on a high bier, covered by a checkered shroud. Below and beside her are mourners. Dr. Winkle describes the figures as “Dorito-shaped”—triangular torsos with stick limbs. They are tearing their hair in grief.
The “Dipylon Master”: Who painted this? We don’t know his name. In art history, we give such anonymous geniuses a Notname (German for “emergency name” or “placeholder name”). He is the Dipylon Master. Dr. Noe jokes that he is aspiring to earn a Notname for himself, perhaps “The Master of Drapery Studies,” though his home décor suggests he hasn’t earned the degree yet.
Interpreting the Chaos
Why did the Greeks feel the need to fill every inch of the clay? Some scholars, like John Boardman, find the effect “depressingly rhythmic and mechanical,” suggesting the artist was more interested in the pattern than the people.
However, the hosts suggest a psychological angle. This was a time of massive transition. The world was moving from the chaos of the Dark Ages toward the order of the Archaic period. Perhaps the Horror Vacui reflects a cultural anxiety—a need to impose strict, geometric order on a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. Just as hoarders fill their homes to feel secure, perhaps the Dipylon Master filled his vase to hold back the chaos of the void.
Latin & Greek Language Spotlight
For the students of the classics and art history, here are the key terms from this episode to furnish your mental gallery:
- Horror Vacui: (Latin) “Fear of the empty.” An artistic style where the entire surface is filled with detail.
- Kenophobia: (Greek) The fear of empty spaces.
- Amphora: A two-handled jar with a narrow neck, used for wine, oil, or as a tomb marker.
- Kerameikos: The “Ceramic” district of Athens. The root of the English word “ceramic.”
- Prothesis: The ritual laying out of the dead body for mourning.
- Pyxis: A small, round box with a lid, used for cosmetics or jewelry.
- Notname: (German) A placeholder name given to an anonymous artist (e.g., The Dipylon Master).
Sponsors
This deep dive into geometric art was brought to you by:
- Hackett Publishing: For beautiful books that (unlike the Dipylon Vase) have readable margins. Use code AN2020 for 20% off at hackettpublishing.com.
- Ratio Coffee: For a brew that fills the void in your soul. Use code ANCO for 15% off the Ratio 6 at ratiocoffee.com.
The Gustatory Parting Shot
We leave you with a quote from Erma Bombeck, reminding us that life is short, so we should fill it—not just with geometric patterns, but with dessert:
“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.”
Fill your plate, listeners. Don’t leave any empty space.
Valete!
