Visibility, private religion and the urban landscape of Amarna

ANNO • DOM M•D•CCCC•III

seen & unseen spaces

edited by Matthew Dalton, Georgie Peters

& Ana Tavares

Introduction: Seen and unseen spaces Matthew Dalton, Georgie Peters and Ana Tavares

'Out of sight': The role of Kfar HaHoresh within the PPNB landscape of the Lower Galilee, Israel Michal Birkenfeld and A. Nigel Goring-Morris

Site and scene: Evaluating visibility in monument placement during theBronze Age of West Penwith, Cornwall, United Kingdom Chelsee Arbour

(In)visible cities: The abandoned Early Bronze Age tells in the landscape of the Intermediate Bronze Age southern Levant Sarit Paz

‘All that we see or seem’: Space, memory and Greek akropoleis Robin Rönnlund

Becoming visible: The formation of urban boundaries in the oppidum of Manching (Bavaria) Thimo Jacob Brestel

Mutable spaces and unseen places: A study of access, communication and spatialcontrol in households at Early Iron Age (EIA) Zagora on Andros Kristen Mann

Privacy and production: Sensory aspects of household industry in Classical and Hellenistic Greece Katherine Harrington

Some thoughts on the habits of graffiti-writing: Visual aspects ofscratched inscriptions within Pompeian houses Polly Lohmann

Visibility, private religion and the urban landscape of Amarna Anna Stevens

In the eyes of the other: The mythological wall reliefs in the Southwest Palace at Nineveh Kiersten A. Neumann

Ziggurats: A viewer’s guide Mary Shepperson

Modelling household identity in a multi-ethnic society Miriam Müller

From vision to cosmovision: Memory and the senses in the creation of Maya ritual space Lisa M. Johnson, James M. Crandall and Lucas R. Martindale Johnson

Visualising personhood: Race, space and materiality in the historicmortuary landscapes of eastern Long Island Emily Button Kambic

Segregation of mortuary spaces within the context of double funerals:An ethnoarchaeological approach applied to Neolithic Pouilly (France) Jennifer Kerner

Creating visual boundaries between the ‘sacred’ and ‘secular’ in New Kingdom Egypt Nicola Harrington

Life after death: Shrouded burials in later Anglo-Saxon England Siân Mui

Book Reviews Edited by Matthew Dalton

Archaeology and the Senses: Human Experience, Memory, and AffectBy Yannis Hamilakis Reviewed by Lucy Shipley

An Archaeology of the Troubles: The Dark Heritage of Long Kesh/Maze PrisonBy Laura McAtackney Reviewed by Calum Gavin Robertson

Animals as Neighbors. The Past and Present of Commensal SpeciesBy Terry O'Connor Reviewed by William C. McGrew

Forthcoming issues and subscription information

Available back issues

Contents1

7

17

28

37

44

52

63

70

77

85

94

102

113

123

134

143

150

157

159

160

162

163

April 2015 | Seen and Unseen Spaces

In around 1350 BC, pharaoh Akhenaten founded the city of Akhetaten (modern Amarna) on an unoccupied stretch of land on the Nile River in Middle Egypt (fig. 1). His aim was to break with tradition and establish a cult centre for the solar deity the Aten, the god he worshipped above all other deities and to the exclusion of most. But his vision for Akhetaten turned out to be short-lived, and a few years after his death the city was largely abandoned, its temples disman-tled and the traditional religion restored to Egypt. Because of its short period of occupation, however, Amarna is one of the most important pharaonic settlement sites in Egypt. Excavators working here since the end of the nineteenth century have exposed broad expanses of a contemporane-ous urban landscape that includes housing areas, temples, palaces, industrial complexes, streetscapes and cemeteries (Kemp 2012). The site supports a range of research con-nected with how ancient Egyptian cities grew, functioned and were experienced. Amarna stands jointly as a unique case site for the study of a period of religious change. This paper is concerned with private religion at Amarna, broadly considered as religion beyond official temple cult. It explores the visual influences—largely in terms of visibility itself rather than content—that may have prompted and shaped religious action, behaviour and thought across the city, and the agents responsible for creating these. It asks how visibility had a bearing on how Akhetaten functioned as a living religious landscape. Several strands of religious belief can be identified amongst the archaeological and epigraphic material excavated from within residential areas at Amarna (Stevens 2006). One concerns a royal cult: the worship of Akhenaten and the royal family as intermediaries to the Aten and/or in their own right. This is evidenced especially by statues and stelae recovered from workshops and houses, the latter often of the elite. A second centres upon divinities and spirits who

were associated with domestic and personal wellbeing and whose images appear on personal and household items, such as amulets, figurines and furnishings, and occasionally in paintings on the walls of houses. A third saw the worship of deities who straddled the worlds of temple and personal cult, such as the goddesses Hathor and Isis, connected with personal fertility and magic, and a fourth strand centred upon the worship or commemoration of deceased ances-tors. Overall, the cult of the royal family/Aten has left the strongest archaeological footprint at the site, but there are many items of religious material culture familiar from other settlements of similar periods. Making sense of this material and of how each strand of belief operated within the community at any one time is a complicated task, especially as regards the role of traditional cults and the reception of the Aten/royal cult. Undoubtedly context mattered, and whilst the names of traditional gods were sometimes excised from objects or personal names (e.g. Borchardt 1915: 449; Pendlebury 1951: 90, 92, plate LXXIV.8), jewellery with images of the domestic deity Bes appears to have been interred in the Royal Tomb (Martin 1974, 77, no. 277–278), suggesting that some royal indi-viduals may have continued to engage with personal gods. The archaeological record is an incomplete one, and we can only guess at what kinds of objects were removed when the people of Amarna abandoned the city. Most of the statues and stelae found amongst houses show the royal family, but were these left because the royal cult was redundant, whilst objects that showed traditional deities were removed for ongoing use? Nor is there much opportunity to fine-tune the dating of the material within the 15 or 20 years or so that the site was occupied. The city remained, in fact, inhab-ited for a short period after the death of Akhenaten, raising the possibility that some items with traditional religious imagery date to this time.

Visibility, private religion and the urban landscape of Amarna

Anna Stevens

Amarna Project&

Department of Ancient Egypt and Sudan, The British [email protected]

Archaeological Review from Cambridge 30.1

One approach to a large, diverse and citywide material corpus of this kind is to apply to it a thematic filter. Within the archaeology of settlement religion, still a relatively new field of enquiry within Egyptology, this has the advantage of helping to shift discourse beyond cult emplacements and the practices they served—a logical starting point—towards broader charac-terizations of religion as it was lived and experienced. ‘Visibility’ is a filter that helps to place focus on the audience of religious conduct, not just the performer, and prompts consideration of such ideas as the spread of knowledge, statements of personal affinity, and community and personal memory. Making cult images visible was itself an important ritual action in ancient Egypt. And visibility is a pertinent filter for Amarna, where it has been proposed that continued worship of traditional divinities was ‘clandestine’ (Hornung 1999: 111), or that those who outwardly displayed their allegiance to the official cult were simply paying it ‘lip service’ (Kemp 1989: 201).

The horizon of the Aten: The city as cult arena

Akhenaten’s overriding agenda in founding Akhetaten, made clear in foundation texts inscribed on boundary stelae around the perimeter of the site (Murnane and van Siclen 1993), was to create a ritual arena for the cult of the Aten. He claimed the land for the Aten in part through these texts, but jointly by building monumental open-air temples in the heart of Akhetaten (within the Central City; fig. 1), which he teamed with shrines built on the outskirts of the city dedi-cated in part to members of the royal family (Kemp 1995a; Williamson 2008). The result was an unequivocal statement of the king’s allegiance to the Aten cult. The display of the royal family also appears to have been an important aspect of the design of certain buildings, and perhaps the city itself, with scenes in the tombs of officials at Amarna showing Akhenaten and his family parading in chariots and handing

Figure 1. Map of Amarna (drawn by Barry Kemp, based partly on survey data provided by Helen Fenwick, and reproduced with permission of Barry Kemp).


Anna Stevens | 78


79 | Visibility, private religion and the urban landscape of Amarna

out rewards to officials at balcony-like structures known as Windows of Appearance (Kemp 1976; Spence 2009: 180–185). The latter offer a neat illustration of the use of controlled visibility within the official cult, being fitted with doors that would be opened to create a sense of ritual occasion. The Windows of Appearance served as liminal zones between the royal family and non-royal audiences, and concurrently the divine and non-divine worlds (Spence 2009: 181). It has been suggested that the movement of the royal family around the city served as a counterpart to the movement of the Aten in the sky above, reinforcing their role as intermediaries to the god (O’Connor 1982; 1989). But who was the audience for these monumental cult buildings and episodes of royal display? In large part, it must have been the Aten above, the design of the temples allowing the rays of the god to extend upon offerings displayed in open-air courts. Some posit that the city and its main monuments were laid out according to an overarching symbolic framework (O’Connor 1982; 1989; Mallinson 1999), but if so it is a framework that is not readily visible to us now (Kemp 2000), and may have been similarly obscure to the inhabitants of the city who were excluded from the knowledge that underlay its design. The god above seems the only audience who could have been reached in this way. We can assume that, for the most part, the opportunity to view the royal family was an elite prerogative, unless perhaps on festival occasions. Certainly the Windows of Appearance, now difficult to identify amongst the city ruins, were situated at official buildings (Spence 2009: 185–189). Little is known of how the Amarna temples functioned, due to both their destruction after the city’s abandonment and rapid excavation during the 1930s (Pendlebury 1951). We should leave open the possibility of public interaction with these monuments through votive donation (Kemp 1995b: 35), festival gatherings (Kemp and Garfi 1993: 54–55, 61) and perhaps the dedication of funerary offerings (Stevens 2006: 313), but how far such activities extended beyond elite circles is unknown. Direct accessibility is not necessary, however, for the temples to have served as visual statements of the city’s religious identity, and in this role they may have reached many people as they went about their daily lives. Excavations in the Central City have shown that this part of Akhetaten was far from a sterile ceremonial zone, but contained administrative buildings, military quarters, and large industrial and food production complexes (Pendlebury 1951). It also included a small village, perhaps for administrators, for whom the state may have constructed a small public shrine (Kemp 1989: 285; Shaw 1995: 235). For those engaged in these buildings, the perimeter walls of the temples must have provided a backdrop to everyday life, and likewise perhaps for people passing through the Central City. There was no wall around the Central City or barrier created by the buildings here to prevent people trickling through to other parts of the city,

if they had the social freedoms to do so. With the perimeter walls of the temples no longer preserved, we can only specu-late on whether there were images or shrines here, formally or expediently created, that facilitated public engagement with the deities worshipped inside; a phenomenon known from other New Kingdom temples (Brand 2007). We should also allow for other, less direct modes of visual contact with the city’s formal ceremonial and cult architecture. Many of the population are likely to have been involved in building these complexes, from cutting stone at the quarry face to working at construction sites, whilst others, including the occupants of very small houses, were probably engaged to create fittings and furnishings for the city’s formal architecture (Kemp and Stevens 2010: 478–496). To what extent did these activities allow an indirect view of the city’s temples, filtered, and perhaps modified, through the mind’s eye? The parade of the royal family in chariots also places them to an extent within the public sphere, and whilst their routes are difficult to reconstruct, it has long been noted that the city’s main north-south thoroughfare, the so-called Royal Road, seems suited to serve as a ceremonial route. It linked the palaces at the north of the Amarna bay to the Central City, passing through the residential areas north of the latter, and then continuing southwards, with a slight change of angle, through the largest suburban zone (the Main City; see fig. 1) (Kemp and Garfi 1993). The official cult was constructed for restricted circles, but there are other modes of contact—many of them visual—through which it may have gained a broader audience as the royal family moved around the city and as the people of the city them-selves went about their everyday lives.

Religion of the suburbs

The residential areas of the city provide a somewhat more tangible archaeological footing from which to explore the theme of visibility. The role of Akhetaten as a city was in some senses a secondary one; Akhenaten makes no mention of the urban function of Akhetaten in his foundation texts and there is little sense of any state-imposed planning in the residential areas. These zones convey an organic layout that was probably fairly typical of large settlements of the time. There is, in turn, little sign amongst the neighbourhoods of houses, streets, wells and workshops that visual prompts—statues or shrines, for example—relating to the royal/Aten cult were inserted by the state into the suburban landscape as a means of engaging the public. Nor is there much evidence of attempts from inside the suburban community itself to erect similar prompts within public spaces. Amongst the excavated housing areas in the riverside city proper (fig. 1; Main City, North Suburb and North City), we can identify two mud-brick buildings that are probably chapels (Kemp 1995b: 30). These must

have been an everyday visual presence for those living nearby, although there is little sense that they were focal points around which houses were built or towards which people were channelled. One of these buildings, P48.4, did however contain a stela dedicated to the gods Khnum, Satis and Anukis, patron deities of Elephantine in Egypt’s south (Seidlmayer 1983, 204–206), a reminder that memories of spaces and places no longer seen may have been one of the forces that shaped the religious cityscape of Akhetaten. Given that this population was one that had been displaced and relocated to Akhetaten, we might even expect more of this kind of rebuilding of remembered religious landscapes at Amarna. In any case, explaining away P48.4 as an example of clandestine worship of traditional deities quickly becomes unsatisfactory, particularly as the chapel is located in an area that would have been readily visible from the estate of one of the city’s military officers (Kemp 1995b: 30). The low frequency of chapels in the riverside suburbs con-trasts with the situation at a small walled settlement known as the Workmen’s Village located on the eastern desert outskirts of the city (fig. 1), thought to have housed workers who constructed the royal tombs, and their families (Kemp 1987). The villagers built a series of mud-brick chapels immediately beside the walled town, many if not all of which were painted with large-scale coloured reliefs. Twenty-four chapels have been uncovered during excavations, mostly in the 1920s (Peet and Woolley 1923: 92–108; Weatherhead and Kemp 2007; fig. 2). The chapels appear to have served as places for the veneration of both ancestors and gods, amongst them Amun, Isis, Shed and the Aten (Bomann 1991; Weatherhead and Kemp 2007), and although the village was occupied briefly in the reigns of Akhenaten’s successors, it is difficult to imagine that all of these buildings were constructed in this short time (Weatherhead and Kemp 2007: 410–412). The Workmen’s Village lies distant from the city. Yet explaining the proliferation of chapels and worship of

traditional divinities here as a product of its relative invisibility in the eyes of the city’s elite is again too simplistic, not least for the fact that a second probable tomb builders’ settlement, the Stone Village (fig. 1), which is even more isolated from the riverside city, shows no trace at all of chapels of this kind (Stevens 2012: 446). The unusually close proximity of the Workmen’s Village cemetery, on a plateau behind the settlement, must have been a contributing factor, spurring activities connected with mortuary cults and the commemo-ration of the deceased. In a way the Workmen’s Village chapels are probably best considered as family memorials rather than public chapels as such. But again the Stone Village had its own cemetery, so chapel construction at the Workmen’s Village was prompted by something other than location alone. The key difference may lie in the social make-up of each village. If the Workmen’s Village was home not only to stone cutters but to the skilled artisans who undertook the final decoration of the tombs, they would have been able to create for themselves the vivid visual backdrop for everyday religion that the chapels represent. The production of large-scale wall paintings extended to houses within the village, where excavators in the 1920s encountered two well-executed scenes showing household gods, another showing women and girls probably in a ritual dance, and traces of further scenes (Kemp 1979; 2009). Murals of this kind again find little parallel in the houses in the city proper, a discrepancy that has been explained by the poorer preservation of houses here in comparison to the Workmen’s Village (Kemp 1979: 50–51), but could indicate a real difference in the ability of different communities to express their religious views. A similarly strong archaeological footprint for cult, including in the use of wall painting, is found amongst the houses and chapels of the tomb builders’ settlement of Deir el-Medina at Thebes (Bruyère 1939), a community that may have been transferred to the Amarna Workmen’s Village in Akhenaten’s reign (Kemp 1987: 44–9). The study of these

Figure 2. One of the Workmen’s Village chapels (no. 524) excavated by the Egypt Exploration Society (EES) in 1921 showing, on the right, some of the painted stonework and mud brick recovered during the excavations. EES Amarna Archive Negatives 21/45 and 21/47 (reproduced with permission of the EES).


Anna Stevens | 80

two workers’ communities has had a significant bearing on our understanding of New Kingdom settlement religion. Kemp (1995b: 30) offers that the Amarna Workmen’s Village “perhaps provides a yardstick against which to measure the commitment of other communities”. Yet the relatively low-level religious signature found across the riverside city at Amarna may be more typical: a reflection of the limited self-sufficiency of most people to create their own visual back-drop for suburban cult. When painted figurative decoration has been found in houses in the city, it occurs mostly in larger estates, and shows scenes that appear to relate to the official cult rather than domestic divinities (Stevens 2006: 215–216). These we might understand as commissions from artisans engaged from outside the household itself. For most, their cult ‘tool-kit’ was built instead out of objects, including figurines, stelae, statues and jewellery. Some items would have been acquired—directly or indirectly—from workshops, but others, such as faience jewellery, were probably made within the home (Vanthuyne 2012). The people of Akhetaten were contributing to the visual framework of suburban religion, creating a material tableau that may have been flexible, dynamic and not nec-essarily a reflection of lower commitment, but which leaves a less visible signature in the archaeological record than artisans’ communities and one that, in often comprising portable objects, is easily removed and de-contextualised.

Religion of the home—and the Aten above

The study of domestic religion proper in ancient Egypt is hampered by the collapse of the upper storeys and rooftops of houses, areas where we might expect to find traces of religion at its most private. Amarna is no exception. What Amarna contributes, through the large-scale exposures of houses in the riverside city, is a glimpse instead of the more public, visible aspect of domestic religion. This is expressed in the relationship of cult fittings, especially altars and lustra-

tion slabs—stone platforms probably used for ritual purifi-cation (Spence 2007)—with the central room of the house (Stevens 2006: 219–235). This room, which was usually fitted with a mastaba (low bench) and hearth, is thought to have been the most formal area of the home, and a place for receiving guests. Spence (2010) posits that the entry route into the central room was constructed so as to establish a hierarchy in which the house owner was given foremost status, and the visitor placed in a secondary role. Altars and lustration slabs are far from ubiquitous in Amarna houses: there are about 40 of each amongst some 1000 excavated houses, usually occurring in somewhat larger residences. But almost all are positioned in the central room, suggesting that the cult they served was part of a visual framework to be shared with visitors to the home. The most extreme example of the interplay between religious installations and guest-oriented spaces occurs in the house of the priest Panehesy, situated beside the Great Aten Temple in the Central City. This is one of two houses attributed to Panehesy and is thought to have been his ‘official residence’, effectively his main place of business (Pendlebury 1951: 26, fig. 6, plates XI, XXX.1, XXXI). Here, upon entering the central room the visitor was met with an elaborate stone shrine with stairs or ramp that projected deep into the room; this was undoubtedly the visual focal point of the house (fig. 3). The shrine is carved with reliefs of the royal family worshipping the Aten, its cult association clear (Egyptian Museum, Cairo JE 65041). It contains pivot holes for a double-leaf wooden door, which would have allowed the cult image inside, presumably a statue or stela, to be hidden and revealed. Drill holes of this kind are also found in a stela showing the royal family that probably served as a domestic cult image (Cairo JE 44865; Arnold 1996: 97). These suggest that ritualized control of visual access to the royal family, as seen with the Windows of Appearance, extended to cult images of these individuals in certain domestic contexts. Not all domestic altars, however, need have served the royal

Figure 3. The stone shrine in the house of the priest Panehesy, excavated by the EES in 1927. On the left is the ground plan of the house, with the foundations of the shrine marked in Room 4 against the lower wall. The photographs show the stone foundations of the shrine still in situ, and loose blocks from it with an image of Akhenaten and Nefertiti worshipping the Aten. House plan after Pendle-bury 1951, pl. XI and EES Amarna Archive Negatives 26/6 and 26/72 (all reproduced with permission of the EES).



cult. Most are simple mud brick platforms with no trace of decoration, and there is a range of other cult items that could have been erected here and shared with visitors to the home, such as statues of private ancestors. Elite estates at Amarna also sometimes contained a shrine built within the large courtyard that surrounded the house. Forty-six of these structures have been identified, all poorly preserved and known only from excavation records from the early twentieth century (Ikram 1989). Several contained pieces of statues of the royal family, implying a link with the state cult, but we know little of their func-tion or how homogeneous they were as a group. Can any insight be gained by considering their visibility (cf. Stevens 2006: 300–302)? Some of these shrines are situated in locations where they must have been seen immediately upon entrance to the courtyard, sometimes opposite the main gateway itself. A few sit in locations that look almost to be publicly accessible. Many, however, would have been less immediately visible from the main entrance to the courtyard, placed behind the house and with no direct access route from the street. Could this indicate that they operated within a more private realm? We might wonder whether these shrines served not simply the cult of the royal family/Aten, but were jointly connected with the

veneration of private ancestors (Stevens 2006: 302).1 They can perhaps be paralleled with the private chapels at the Workmen’s Village, but here engaging the royal family as intermediaries for an afterlife. Nor need we assume that the outdoor location of the shrines was an attempt simply to draw attention to them: they may have been so-placed to allow communication with the Aten above, recalling the worship of the god in the city’s temples. Although generally preserved only to a few courses it is possible, given the prominence of open-air cult structures at Amarna, that the shrines were similarly left open to the sky (Ikram 1989). If so, they offer a reminder that Amarna was a natural arena for the movement of the sun above. The long-standing interpreta-tion of Amarna religion is that the Aten was accessible only through the intermediacy of the royal family (although see Bickel 2003). But might the visibility of the sun in the sky above have prompted people to engage directly with the Aten via open-air shrines? We are poorly served by the archaeological record here, but a hint of what might be missing is found on a set of reliefs from Karnak (fig. 4) that show priests’ houses with apparent shrines to the Aten

1 A function also suggested by Harco Willems during his 2014 Sackler Lecture ‘The coffins of the lector priest Sesenebenef: a Middle Kingdom Book of the Dead?’ at the 2014 British Museum Egyptology Colloquium.

Figure 4. Priests’ houses shown in reliefs from Karnak which seem to contain rooftop shrines to the Aten (Spence 2004: 144–145 ar-gues that the houses are shown in section, not plan, view). Reproduced from Spence 2004: 145, fig. 11 (after Traunecker 1988, figs 1-2) (with permission of Kate Spence).


Anna Stevens | 82

on their roofs (Traunecker 1988: 85, figs 1–2). We should allow for the possibility that there is an aspect of Amarna religion—the worship of the Aten in rooftop shrines—that is entirely lost to us.

Concluding remarks: The character of urban religion

Akhetaten must have acquired much of its character as a city from the religious conduct of its citizens as they went about their daily lives. The city was scattered with potential visual religious prompts, from temples to household cult images and personal amulets. Many of these were portable, and the suburban religious landscape must have been a visually dynamic one. In being worn on the body, personal amulets of gods and symbols, for example, potentially commu-nicated statements of allegiance, memory and personal circumstances in a public environment. There is much to challenge the idea that the worship of traditional gods that did take place at Akhetaten was hidden from view. Some of these prompts would have been designed and understood as triggers for ritual responses: the donation of offerings, for example. Tomb scenes suggest that the sight of the royal family on parade prompted gestures such as bowing (Davies 1903–1908). Religious imagery and spaces must have contributed to the social cues that gave meaning to urban space. And we can wonder to what extent visual access to cult images and spaces prompted religious engage-

ment, especially with the official cult. The primary audience for this was the elite. Yet the site has produced objects that hint at broader engagement such as lower quality stelae showing the royal family and, in one unique case, the Aten alone, found amongst small houses in the North Suburb (fig. 5). Did glimpsed or imagined cult spaces, the appeal of elite culture, or the sight of the sun above contribute to the spread of the Aten/royal cult? The theme of visibility helps to bring into focus the ques-tion of how far suburban religion developed organically or was constructed deliberately. The absence of visual prompts for the state cult amongst the residential areas of Amarna is significant: the suburbs lay beyond Akhenaten’s vision for the Aten cult. Even at this time of driven religious move-ment, there was little attempt by the state to imprint the state religion upon the everyday practices of most people. The people of Amarna created their own visual frameworks for religion, but with varying degrees of self-sufficiency. Comparing the Workmen’s Village with the riverside suburbs shows the difference in the material footprint of religion that could be left across a single urban community, but which need not reflect different levels of commitment. The suburban religious landscape was probably an organic one, punctuated by more focused or deliberate acts of ritual in which visual display often played an important role. We need not relegate the cult of the royal family/Aten to the latter, but might see it beginning to be pulled along by the same organic currents—including visual access—that shaped private religion more generally.

References

Arnold, D. 1996. The Royal Women of Amarna: Images of Beauty from Ancient Egypt. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Bickel, S. 2003. ‘Ich spreche ständig zu Aton...’: zur Mensch-Gott-Beziehung in der Amarna Religion. Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 3, 23–45.

Bomann, A. H. 1991. The Private Chapel in Ancient Egypt. London: Routledge.

Borchardt, L. 1915. Excavations at Tell el-Amarna, Egypt, in 1913–1914. Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution, 445–457.

Brand, P. 2007. Veils, votives, and marginalia: the use of sacred space at Karnak and Luxor. In Dorman, P.F. and Bryan, B.M. (eds), Sacred Space and Sacred Function in Ancient Thebes, Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 61. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 51–83.

Bruyère, B. 1939. Rapport sur les fouilles de Deir el Médineh (1934–1935). 3eme partie, le village. Cairo: Institut français d’Archéologie orientale.

Davies, N. de G. 1903–1908. The Rock Tombs of el-Amarna, Parts 1–6. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Hornung, E. 1999. Akhenaten and the Religion of Light. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Ikram, S. 1989. Domestic shrines and the cult of the royal family at el-Amarna. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 75: 89–101.

Kemp, B.J. 1976. The Window of Appearance at el-Amarna, and the basic structure of this city. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 62: 81–99.

Kemp, B.J. 1979. Wall paintings from the Workmen’s Village at el-’Amarna. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 65: 47–53.

Kemp, B.J. 1987, The Amarna Workmen’s Village in retrospect. Journal

Figure 5. A small limestone stela (obj. 30/50 = Cairo JE 55458) from house T36.36 in the North Suburb with a rough carving of the Aten probably shown above a table of offerings, but seemingly without the royal family present as intermediaries to the god. EES Amarna Amarna Archive Negative 30/6 (reproduced with permission of the EES).



of Egyptian Archaeology 73: 21–50.Kemp, B.J. 1989. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (first

edition). London: Routledge.Kemp, B.J. 1995a. Outlying temples at Amarna. In Kemp, B. J. (ed.),

Amarna Reports VI. London: Egypt Exploration Society, 411–462.Kemp, B. 1995b. How religious were the ancient Egyptians? Cambridge

Archaeological Journal 5(1): 25–54.Kemp, B. 2000. Were cities built as images? Bricks and metaphor.

Cambridge Archaeological Journal 10(2): 335–346.Kemp, B. 2009. A wall painting of Bes figures from Amarna. Egyptian

Archaeology 34: 18–19.Kemp, B. 2012. The City of Akhenaten and Nefertiti: Amarna and Its

People. London: Thames & Hudson.Kemp, B.J. and Garfi, S. 1993. A Survey of the Ancient City of el-‘Amarna.

London: Egypt Exploration Society.Kemp, B. and Stevens, A. 2010. Busy Lives at Amarna: Excavations in

the Main City (Grid 12 and the House of Ranefer, N49.18). Volume I: The Excavations, Architecture and Environmental Remains (EES Excavation Memoir 90). London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Mallinson, M. 1999. The sacred landscape. In Freed, R.E., Markowitz, Y.J. and D’Auria, S.H. (eds), Pharaohs of the Sun: Akhenaten, Nefertiti, Tutankhamen. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 72–80.

Martin, G.T. 1974. The Royal Tomb at el-‘Amarna I, The Objects. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Murnane, W.J. and van Siclen III, C.C. 1993. The Boundary Stelae of Akhenaten. London: Kegan Paul International.

O’Connor, D. 1982. Cities and Towns. In Brovarski, E., Doll, S.K. and Freed, R.E. (eds), Egypt’s Golden Age. The Art of Living in the New Kingdom. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts, 17–25.

O’Connor, D. 1989. City and Palace in New Kingdom Egypt. Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Egyptologie de Lille 11: 73–87.

Peet, T.E., and Woolley, C.L. 1923. The City of Akhenaten, I: Excavations of 1921 and 1922 at el-‘Amarna. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Pendlebury, J.D.S. 1951. The City of Akhenaten, III: The Central City and the Official Quarters. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Seidlmayer, S. 1983. Zu einigen Architekturinschriften aus Tel el-Amarna. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo 39: 183–206.

Shaw, I. 1995. The simulation of artifact diversity at el-Amarna, Egypt. Journal of Field Archaeology 22: 223–238.

Spence, K. 2004. The three-dimensional form of the Amarna house. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 90: 123–152.

Spence, K. 2007. A contextual approach to ancient Egyptian domestic cult: The case of the ‘lustration slabs’ at el-Amarna. In Barrowclough, D. A. and Malone, C. (eds), Cult in Context: Reconsidering Ritual in Archaeology. Oxford: Oxbow, 285–292.

Spence, K. 2009. The palaces of el-Amarna: Towards an architectural analysis. In Gundlach, R. and Taylor, J.H. (eds), Egyptian Royal Residences. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 165–187.

Spence, K.E. 2010. Settlement structure and social interaction at el-Amarna. In Bietak, M. Czerny, E. and Forstner-Müller, I. (eds), Cities and Urbanism in Egypt. Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 289–298.

Stevens, A. 2006. Private Religion at Amarna. The Material Evidence (BAR International Series 1587). Oxford: Archaeopress.

Stevens, A. 2012. Akhenaten’s Workers: The Amarna Stone Village Survey, 2005-9. Volume I: The Survey, Excavations and Architecture (EES Excavation Memoir 100). London: Egypt Exploration Society and Amarna Project.

Traunecker, C. 1988. Les maisons du domaine d’Aton à Karnak. Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Egyptologie de Lille 10: 73–93.

Vanthuyne, B. 2012. Amarna factories, workshops, faience moulds and their produce. Ägypten und Levante 22: 395–429.

Weatherhead, F. and B. Kemp. 2007. The Main Chapel at the Amarna

Workmen’s Village and its wall paintings (EES Excavation Memoir 85). London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Williamson, J. 2008. The Sunshade of Nefertiti. Egyptian Archaeology 33: 5–7.


Anna Stevens | 84

Documents

Visibility, private religion and the urban landscape of Amarna