• 1 And with a two-year break due to the pandemic.
• 2 Working at the Yale Babylonian Collection has been a special experience. For me it is one of the mo (...)
• 3 Van Buren 1930.
• 4 For this project CNRS gave me an SMI (Supports to International Mobility) for three years (2018, 20 (...)
• 5 Uhlenbrock 1990, 1993, 2009, 2013, 2016; Muller 1994, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2003; see also Les Ca (...)

1Since 20181 I have been studying for publication a little-known group of Mesopotamian terracottas held in the Yale Babylonian Collection of the Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History in New Haven, with the permission of the curator Agnete Wisti-Lassen.2 A selection of these terracottas had already been published in 1930 by Elisabeth van Buren in a book that listed the Near Eastern terracottas of the most important European and American museums.3 While the Yale collection was included, the encyclopedic nature of the book did not allow for in-depth analysis of its objects, nor did it allow for complete photographic documentation. Since then, other terracottas also have entered the collection that have never been published. But more importantly, a century of archaeological reflection and new methodological analyses require a rethinking for the publication of this material. This is the goal of my research program, which is funded by CNRS4 for the most part and by my laboratory, funded by the Collège de France, the CNRS, and the École Pratique des Hautes Études. However, my goal is not simply to publish a catalogue with synthetic chapters. Rather, the aim is to renew coroplastic research for the ancient Near East. I intend to show how the study of the neglected areas of the terracotta object—the back and the sides— contributes to a better understanding of the object itself, how it was produced, and how it was handled. This catalogue is also a “manifesto.” Indeed, research into Syro-Mesopotamian terracottas has not taken into account the ‘revolution’ that has occurred in coroplastic studies relative to the Greek world.5 In the domain of the ancient Near East recent studies on terracottas are few and mostly are limited to publishing objects discovered in excavations. But this study also is an appeal in general for the publication of museum collections, in re-contextualizing material that arrived in museums without provenience and context, which is important for other similar materials. It also is necessary to understand how the objects arrived in museums. Reconstructing this recent history of the object is important because it is part of it.

• 6 Terracottas of the Hellenistic period tend to be more intact than those of the pre-Classical period (...)
• 7 For Greek terracottas see, at least Uhlenbrock 1990, 2009, 2013, 2019; Muller 1994, 1997, 1998, 199 (...)
• 8 About the exchanges between popular and official art see Battini 2015. And about the possibility of (...)

2The study of terracottas is not often found among Near Eastern archaeologists because these objects were not official works. It was a production considered as “minor” —with all the pejorative meaning of this term— since it did not concern the elite, nor emanate from a royal or religious power. Terracottas were made of poor material, and they have suffered more from the passage of time because of that.6 They often are found broken (fig. 1) and missing their colors. But their importance, first of all, lies in the fact that they have been found everywhere, in every period, and they are present in houses, as well as in palaces, temples, and graves. Secondly, they are an incredible source of information7 on the feelings, needs, and concerns of people in the past, on their techniques, on the organization of work, on the exchanges between Mesopotamian cities, and between official and popular art. 8

• 9 Especially Uhlenbrock (1990, 1993, 2009, 2013, 2016, 2019) and Muller (1994, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000 (...)
• 10 Similar issues are found in the studies undertaken by the curators of the Yale Babylonian Collectio (...)
• 11 Ingold 2007, 2009, 2012.
• 12 Arneheim 1969, Barry 1997
• 13 Battini 2017a: certain three-dimensional models have lost the divine figure that once filled them. (...)

3It took me some time to figure out how to approach these terracottas. Before I went to New Haven, I had studied terracottas from publications. However, when I arrived at Yale, the shock was enormous. The materiality of the object imposed itself with all its richness. It was immediately apparent that I had to find an analytical protocol to study all the objects homogeneously. For this reason, I initially relied on publications of Near Eastern material. But none of these publications took into account the “neglected” surfaces, the back of the figurine or of the plaque, where I could see tool marks (fig. 2), fingerprints, concretions accumulated on the surface due to the type of soil in which the plaques have been preserved for millennia. So, I started reading studies conducted by specialists working on Greek-period terracottas,9 which brought me back to the early years of my Italian university training. There, I finally discovered new approaches, new interpretations and, above all, the materiality of the object, which I was also able to investigate from an anthropological point of view. Ingold's studies and articles were of paramount importance to me. As I touched, examined, and measured the terracottas, I understood the importance of “materiality,” which has been at the center of archaeological reflection for several years. It is not the materiality of agency theory, which is an intellectualization that basically distances us from the objects. The materiality that I mean here is the real substance that comprises the objects—the materials.10 As did Ingold,11 I studied not only technical aspects, but rather the complex link between technique, functions, use, and iconography. Tactile sensations, sound qualities, color, and visual impressions are essential for understanding the power and meaning of objects,12 especially ancient terracottas that were held in hand, moved from place to place, dusted, embellished, and occasionally filled with other objects.13

• 14 For archaeological drawing see: Adkins, Adkins 1989; Sinopoli 1991; Banning 2000, 185-210; Griffith (...)

4I also read manuals on archaeological drawing.14 Despite the absence of generally accepted conventions in the study of terracottas, I believe that drawing is essential. Through it, the researcher is obliged to grasp all aspects of the object: the iconography, as well as certain technical elements that may escape notice, but that appear clearer when drawn. I draw not only the front face of the object with its iconography, but also the back and the sides.

• 15 For ceramics and modelling: Atkin 2005; for firing techniques, Cordova 2022, 160-166; Oesterritter (...)

5In order to have a better understanding of technique, among my readings there also are manuals on ceramics, especially the paste, modeling, and pottery firing.15 Last but not least, I am trying experimental archaeology. Like most who live in industrialized societies and are accustomed to advanced technologies, I have no idea how to fire pottery and I have never had one direct experience in the steps required to make a clay figurine. Learning through experimental archaeology has helped me to avoid serious and misleading mistakes.

• 16 Battini 2021.

6It took me some time to define a new way of studying and interpreting the terracottas. In my approach, the iconographic motif, that which is strictly dependent on the sphere that in a broad sense could be defined as "philosophical" (involving a reflection on life, death, and need), is as important as the materials. This is understood not only as technique, but also as actual traces of an artisan, whose imprints on the terracotta have remained by chance and can be read as traces of manipulation before firing.16 In the past, archaeologists only looked at the face with the iconography. Today, and thanks to the change in perspective generated by the classicists, it also is crucial to look at the back, because each terracotta is not only an image, but it is also an object.

• 17 A 8435 : https://oi-idb.uchicago.edu/id/ae766ad3-bf50-43d3-8297-ad84d90f38fc

9On the back there also are traces of reed tools used to flatten the plaque, or to eliminate fingerprints in some cases. The breaks also can help in understanding the object. There are old breaks, sometimes restored with bitumen in ancient times (there is an example in Chicago17and probably an example in the Yale Babylonian Collection) and there are modern breaks. Modern breaks, made at the time of excavations, show the inside of the fabric. Thus, it is possible to know if the artisan successfully controlled the firing, or if the paste was well mixed or not. I noticed that the best clay that is without inclusions, bubbles, or straw, and therefore very pure, was used for plaques of the first millennium B.C.E. with representations of apotropaic beings (fig. 5), while even for the representation of the Old-Babylonian gods the paste was only minimally cleaned and mixed, resulting in a poor-quality clay. (fig. 6).

• 18 Renoué 2001.

10It is clear that this work of analysis takes time because it requires touching the object, looking at it under several lights,18 taking it in hand, feeling it, photographing it, drawing it, weighing it—in a word making it speak as clearly as possible.

• 19 Except the chariots, which are lighter, between 100 and 560 grams.

12The collection consists of three categories of terracottas: figurines, plaques, and three-dimensional models (fig. 8). The most common are the plaques, much less numerous are the figurines and the three-dimensional models. The figurines represent humans, animals, or toys. Plaques represent different subjects, the most common being nude females and gods. There are also demons, animals, and sometimes unusual subjects, such as fruit picking. Three-dimensional models include chariots, boxes, stands, and buildings. The figurines are modest in size and can be carried easily. Plaques come in various sizes, but are no larger than 15 cm, and are light enough to be carried by hand. They range in weight from 30 to 250-300 grams, while the three-dimensional models are heavier, up to a few kilos. For the most part they were not designed to be transported,19 but they could have been moved if necessary. The figurines are handmade, the plaques are moldmade, and the three-dimensional models are partly handmade and partly moldmade. As already noted, the Old Babylonian terracottas were made in general with a poorly prepared clay that is full of inclusions, among which is straw. The cracking that occurred during firing was the result of the improperly mixed paste and possibly incomplete firing. All in all, this type of clay contrasts with the high quality of the clay of the inscribed tablets and nails. This suggests that the artisan who produced the terracottas did not produce the tablets, which must have been made in the scribal milieu. The Old Babylonian terracottas were cheap products precisely because they were mass-produced and because they are made using a poor-quality clay.

• 20 Because it is related to magic.
• 21 The paint helpes to hide the poor quality of the paste.
• 22 Battini 2022.
• 23 As in other artistic genres: cf. Nunn et al. 2020; Thavapalan 2019.

13The Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian terracottas, on the other hand, were made with a better clay. The Neo-Assyrian examples fire to a red fabric, and are sometimes inscribed (fig.  5). The subject represented (apotropaic) is well adapted to such a type of clay,20 so the quality of the fabric is in some cases linked to the iconography, but not always. While the Old Babylonian plaques representing deities are made in a very poor-quality clay, the Neo-Babylonian terracottas that represent women with infants or those with votaries have a fairly pure white fabric. Finally, the terracottas of the Hellenistic period were made in a more refined fabric, many by means of a double mold, but others with a simple, frontal mold. Most of these originally were painted.21 Even if the traces of paint are more legible on the Hellenistic terracottas (fig. 9), if one looks closely at the Mesopotamian terracottas, there are traces of painting on all kinds of terracottas and of all periods. Black and red were used since the beginning of the second millennium B.C.E., and azure since the second half of the second millennium B.C.E.22 Slight traces are visible to the naked eye, but analyses are planned to confirm these observations. It is already interesting to note that these traces of color are more frequent than one might think.23

• 24 Princely tombs of Nimrud (Hussein 2016, 6-9). The erotic terracotta has been studied by Battini (20 (...)
• 25 For example, at Ur, see Battini 1999, 216-220.

18What were the functions of terracottas? Generally speaking, they were different, since their types and dimensions are different, and the context of their discovery varies. In general, such terracottas are found mainly in private houses and temples, but also can be found in palaces and graves. When they are found in the house, or in the palace, they were used as pious images of the gods, as a talisman to protect the inhabitants of the house, as toys (there are rattles that still make noise!), or for board games. Some figurines and plaques could have been used for magical purposes. There are erotic images as well, of which one example was found in a royal grave.24 When found in graves, the terracottas most likely were toys left by the parents for the child they had just lost to accompany him in the afterlife.25 In temples they were mostly votive offerings to a god in fulfillment of a vow, or an offering for the vow to be fulfilled. But uses for magical purposes also cannot be ruled out.

• 26 Battini 2017a.
• 27 This is a topic not previously explored for Near Eastern coroplasty. I have borrowed from scattered (...)

19As for the terracottas of the Yale Babylonian Collection, their function is more difficult to understand because they arrived without precise contexts (except for 2-3 cases). So, in order to try to figure out how they were used, I had to find an experimental way that was based only on the object itself. Thus, I take into account the subject represented, the type of support, the weight and the traces of wear, which seem to me to be able to be reconciled not with the passage of time, but with the use of the object. For example, the divine subjects were more often intended for domestic use, much like the santons, or nativity figurines that are still used today in some parts of the Christian world. But it is necessary to take into account also the support: a divine representation on a plaque that is two-dimensional does not have the same function as one on a three-dimensional support.26 Moreover, even the weight is different: the first one is light and could be carried on one's person (fig. 10), while the three-dimensional model could not be used as a lucky charm, and could not be put in a bag or a pocket. Finally, some terracottas show wear27 that seems to have occurred before the burial of the object in the ground, and some parts of the divine figures seem to have been more affected than others, which indicates a specific and individual use.