Zeus instructs Hephaestus to give this bewitching female facsimile the power to move on its own, as well as humanlike strength and voice. Next, the Olympian divinities come forward to bestow unique gifts, capabilities, and personality traits, as commanded by Zeus. Athena teaches Pandora crafts and dresses her in dazzling clothing; the Graces and Peitho give her charm and the power of persuasion, while Aphrodite fills her with irresistible sex appeal (Pandora arouses pothos, “painful desire and yearning”). Hermes, the trickster-messenger god of thieves and transgressions, gives Pandora a shameless, devious nature and deceitful words. It is Hermes who names her “Pandora, for all the gifts the gods had given her for the ruination of mankind.”8 The “trap is now complete,” writes Hesiod, and “the Father of Men and Gods sends Hermes to present the gift to Epimetheus.”
FIG. 8.2. Hermes presents Pandora to Epimetheus, a cast of a modern neoclassical gem commissioned by Prince Stanislas Poniatowski (1754–1833) to interpret the Pandora myth as described by Hesiod. Beazley Collection, photo courtesy of Claudia Wagner.
Epimetheus assumes Pandora is a real woman. Pandora calls to mind another myth about a cunning artifice that was a dangerous gift—the Trojan Horse. Some versions of the story of the Trojan Horse, built by the Greeks and presented to the Trojans as a ruse of war, suggest that it was sometimes imagined as an animated statue with articulated joints and eyes that moved realistically. It is striking that some tales also recounted ways to determine whether the magnificent horse was real or an artifice. The tests involved piercing its hide to see if it would bleed. But there was no clever riddle or mythic version of the Turing test to help mortals recognize “Artificial Intelligence” in antiquity.9 Heedless of his brother’s warning, writes Hesiod, Epimetheus “took the gift and understood too late.”
As a being that was made, not born, Pandora is unnatural. A replicant with no past, Pandora is unaware of her origins and her purpose on earth. As a “marvelously animated statue” she exists outside the “natural cycles” of birth, “maturation, and decay.” Even the gods, although ageless and undying, were born; they possess memory and have offspring. Like the perfect maiden Galatea molded by Pygmalion and the instantly adult replicants of the Blade Runner films, Pandora has no parents, no childhood, no history, no memories, no emotional depth, and no self-identity or soul. Though sometimes thought of as the “first woman,” Pandora does not reproduce, age, or die.10
In terms of traditional creation beliefs, of course, “all mortals are Pandoras, that is, products of divine artifice.”11 But in the Greek mythic imagination, Pandora was visualized as different from a biological woman; she was a replica of a woman, “a lovely maiden-shape” of clay, made with the same substance and process that craftsmen used to make statues and other objects. Impersonating an adorable, accomplished girl of marriageable age, Pandora is endowed with a low sort of intelligence (Hermes gives her the “mind of a female dog” according to Hesiod, Works and Days 67). It is unclear whether Pandora has the ability to learn, choose, or act autonomously. Her only mission is to open the jar of all human misfortune.
An outstanding feature of Hesiod’s poems is the similarity between Pandora’s creation by Hephaestus and Homer’s description of the self-moving, thinking, and talking female androids devised by Hephaestus in the Iliad, written around the same time as Works and Days. Inner workings or mechanics are not described in either case. But it is striking that Hesiod’s language makes Pandora “essentially indistinguishable” from the golden automata described by Homer. Pandora “begins as inert matter—in this case not gold but clay”—and she becomes a “humanoid machine” endowed with mind, speech, and strength, knowledge of crafts from the gods, and the ability to initiate action.12
Ancient artistic illustrations of the Pandora myth center on her fabrication by Hephaestus and her attributes given by the gods. One example is a Campanian amphora, attributed to the Owl Pillar Group, a circle of Etruscan artists who made clumsy but charming copies of Attic vases in the fifth century BC. On one side of the vase Zeus stands looking at Pandora’s jar (fig. 8.11) while on the other side, Hephaestus leans on his hammer next to the half-complete Pandora.13
The Athenian vase in figure 8.3 (plate 12; about 450 BC) shows a bearded man labeled “Epimetheus” gazing in wonder at Pandora, who flirtatiously tosses her head back and holds up her arms. She is dressed in a bride’s finery, but her demeanor is not that of a modest maiden. Their eyes meet and a small winged Eros (sexual desire) flies toward Epimetheus, reinforcing the sexual electricity between them. Behind them, two other figures lock eyes. Hermes—who gave Pandora all of her wicked qualities—turns to look back at Zeus. The two gods seem to be on the verge of smiling as they exchange a conspiratorial glance, reminding the viewer of the chain of trickery about to be played on the hapless Epimetheus and all humankind.14
A detail on this vase is puzzling: why does Epimetheus carry a hammer, the signature attribute of Hephaestus? Another vase, attributed to the Polygnotus Group, shows the upper half of a female, apparently Pandora, flanked by satyrs with hammers. A similar scene appears on a fifth-century BC vase by the Penthesilea Painter, showing dancing satyr and Pan figures around the upper body of a maiden thought to be Pandora. A frieze of dancing satyrs also decorates the majestic vase illustrating Pandora’s myth by the Niobid Painter, discussed below. Why the satyrs? Scholars suggest that these images might illustrate a lost satyr play titled Pandora or The Hammerers by Sophocles. Known only from fragments, the Athenian comedy featured a workshop scene in which a chorus of hammer-wielding satyrs assist Hephaestus in the making of Pandora.15
FIG. 8.3 (PLATE 12). Epimetheus and Pandora, right; on left, Zeus and Hermes exchange a conspiratorial smile. AN1896–1908 G.275 attributed to the Group of Polygnotos, Attic red-figure pottery volute-krater, about 475–425 BC. Image © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.
Another notable aspect of the two vases described above is that Pandora’s body seems to be emerging from the ground. But Pandora is not a goddess of the Underworld or a chthonic (earthborn) figure. Instead, as some scholars conclude, the image of the upper half of Pandora is intended to indicate that she was molded from earth by Hephaestus’s craft.16 This interpretation could be supported by similar imagery on the Etruscan gems in chapter 6, in which Prometheus is in the process of forming the first human from clay. The gem artists depict the first human as an upper body with a raised arm.
Other vase painters emphasize the rigid statue-like or doll-like appearance of Pandora, attended by active gods and goddesses. In these images, Pandora is in the process of being made and imbued with human attributes, but she is not yet animated or set in motion. A black-figure amphora attributed to the Diosphos Painter (525–475 BC) appears to be the most ancient representation of Pandora. This interpretation was proposed by Theodor Panofka in 1832, upon the first publication of the vase.
In figure 8.4 (plate 13), we see Zeus, standing with a small doll-like woman in his hands. He appears to be admiring Hephaestus’s handiwork, while a goddess holds out wreaths to adorn her and Hermes steps to the right. The Diosphos Painter is known for his unusual iconography and the two inscriptions are nonsense words, which complicates the identification of the figures. Adolf Furtwangler proposed in 1885 that the small stiff figure could be Athena, who was born fully armed with helmet, spear, and shield from Zeus’s head. But unlike other vase paintings of the birth of Athena, this scene includes no helmet or weapons. The goddess presenting wreaths to the figurine appears to be Athena adorning Pandora, as in other vase paintings (see figs. 8.5 and 8.6). The presence of Hermes, Pandora’s escort, is also significant. It seems likely that the vase depicts Pandora, as suggested by Panofka.17
FIG. 8.4 (PLATE 13). Zeus holding Pandora, with goddess (Athena?) and Hermes. Attic black-figure amphora, Diosphos Painter, about 525–475 BC, F 1837. Bpk Bildagentur / Photo by Johannes Laurentius / Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen, Berlin / Art Resource, NY.
Pandora’s completion is cl
early represented inside a large shallow bowl (about twelve inches across) by the Tarquinia Painter (470–465 BC, fig. 8.5), probably made for display as a temple dedication to Athena. Pandora’s inscription, Anesidora, gives her alternative name, “She who releases gifts.” Unfortunately, the black, brown, and purple painting on white ground is damaged, but one can see how Pandora stands passively like “an inanimate, created object” between the taller active gods, Athena and Hephaestus, who are putting the finishing touches on their creation.18 Posed as a “lifeless” mannequin with feet together and hands “hanging limply at her sides,” Pandora head is turned toward Athena.19 Athena is fastening the shoulder of Pandora’s gown and Hephaestus is placing a crown on her head (his trusty hammer is in his left hand). The scene replicates the way statues were offered gifts, dressed in finery, and adorned with jewelry in antiquity.20
FIG. 8.5. Hephaestus (right) and Athena (left) placing finishing touches on Pandora (center), red-figure Attic cup from Nola, about 470–460 BC, Tarquinia Painter, inv. 1881,0528.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum.
The image of Pandora is even more striking on a superb, oversized krater, more than a foot tall, by the Niobid Painter (about 460 BC, figs. 8.6 and 8.7, plate 14). Pandora’s stiff posture and facial expression reinforce her artificial status and her fatal attraction. She stands within a V created by spears, and the V shape is repeated in the decorative top border of the vase. That border has a rare motif pattern that resembles a set of craftsman’s tools, tongs like those used by Hephaestus and blacksmiths in other vase paintings (see figs 7.4 and 7.5). This uniquely appropriate detail reinforces the idea that Pandora was made, not born. The same tool motif also appears prominently in the border around the top of the great vase of about 440 BC that depicts the death of the bronze robot Talos—who was also crafted by Hephaestus (see fig 1.3).21
In the Niobid Painter’s vase scene, Pandora stands like a motionless wooden xoanon idol or a marble statue with her arms at her sides, looking straight ahead. The vase scholar H. A. Shapiro likens her to a “wind-up doll” waiting to be wound up. There is a flurry of activity around Pandora. Athena approaches from one side holding out a wreath, with Poseidon, Zeus, and Iris lined up behind her. On Pandora’s other side we see Ares, Hermes, and Hera (or Aphrodite). The lineup includes some gods not mentioned by Hesiod as contributors to Pandora’s manufacture. Moreover, the gods appear to be talking among themselves and reacting to Pandora, instead of presenting endowments. The scene probably illustrates the later passage in Hesiod, “when Zeus shows off his new plaything to the Olympian gods before inflicting her on mankind.”22
FIG. 8.6. Pandora admired by gods and goddesses, on the magnificent red-figure calyx krater, by the Niobid Painter, about 460 BC, inv. 1856,1213.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum.
Pandora stares straight ahead. In conventional vase painting iconography, the faces of gods, people, and animals are almost always shown in profile or three-quarter views; views of human faces from the front are very rare. In Greek art, a full-frontal face indicates a kind of mindlessness, used for dead or nonliving figures and especially for masks and statues. Frontal views can also suggest a mesmerizing gaze. Notably, the Niobid Painter, known for his elegantly simple classical style, employs frontal faces for dead and dying figures in two of his other famous vases, the Geta Krater, showing Greeks killing Amazons, and his name vase, showing the massacre of Niobe’s children.23 In the arresting frieze illustrating the Pandora myth, both effects—a blank mind and a compelling stare—seem to be intended by Pandora’s forward-facing stance.
The scene holds yet another remarkable element. Facial expressions showing emotion, such as grimaces, frowns, or smiles, are also very rare in Greek vase paintings. People’s faces in vase paintings are usually impassive, with emotions indicated by gestures or posture.24 But this exceptional Pandora not only faces forward, gazing out at the beholder; she is smiling. What message does her smile send? A broad smile strikes one as inappropriate for a virginal bride—but recall that Hesiod described Pandora as a shameless and seductive animated statue. Pandora’s unexpected expression could remind ancient observers of the face of a kore, a life-size painted marble statue of a young, draped maiden typical of the archaic period (600–480 BC). The lips of a kore statue (and those of her counterpart, a nude male kouros) invariably curve up in a curiously mirthless smile.
The same incongruous smile appears on the implacable faces of archaic marble statues depicted in scenes of violence.25 The preternaturally serene—some would say vacuous—expression on archaic statues is known by art historians as “the archaic smile.” With her statue-like stance and that faintly creepy smile, the Niobid Painter underscores Pandora’s manufactured origin and portrays her as an automaton at the moment of her animation.
FIG. 8.7 (PLATE 14). Detail, Pandora admired by gods and goddesses, on the red-figure calyx krater by the Niobid Painter, about 460 BC, inv. 1856,1213.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum.
FIG. 8.8. Kore statue with enigmatic “archaic smiles.” Left, the Peplos Kore, painted marble, about 530 BC, Acropolis Museum, Athens, HIP / Art Resource, NY. Top right, head of the Peplos Kore, photo by Xuan Che, 2011. Bottom right, marble Kore head, sixth century BC, Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Brussels. Werner Forman / Art Resource, NY.
The scene on this magnificent vase—with the unusual “special effect” of the artificial young woman staring fixedly out at the viewer wearing a disconcerting smile—must have had a strong impact on viewers more than twenty-four hundred years ago. The smiling automata would intensify an Uncanny Valley response.
This image of a leering Pandora resonates with a modern cinematic sister of Pandora, the evil, smirking automaton Maria in the brilliant silent film Metropolis of 1927. Widely recognized as one of the most influential science-fiction films in cinema history, the director Fritz Lang’s tour de force features grim expressionist cityscapes and special-effects technology staggering for the 1920s and still stunning today. Metropolis envisions a future dystopia ruled by the rich, who dominate the impoverished masses with demonic machines.26 The publicity photos showing the robot Maria with her makers and the actress being prepared for her scene have startling similarities to the ancient vases depicting Pandora being groomed by the gods before her big scene on earth.
Filmed only seven years after the word robot entered the popular lexicon, Metropolis stars an erotic femme fatale robot deliberately created to wreak havoc in the world. The film, made as the pace of machine technology and industrialization was escalating in Europe and America, shows how swiftly the novel ideas of robots and the merging of humans and machines captured the popular imagination. Critics note that the film’s story line is riddled with illogical twists. But so is the ancient myth of Pandora. Yet, as with the other ancient tales of artificial life gathered in this book, the message is clear. With each new generation, the age-old opposition of human versus machine continues to exert an edgy push-pull response, trepidation commingled with fascination and awe.
In the Greek myth, Pandora’s deceptive appearance as a “tender maiden” is designed to delight and seduce men while bringing them endless suffering. In Metropolis a sweet young woman (Maria, played by a seventeen-year-old actress) is transformed into a sexualized robot-vamp designed to bring chaos and disaster. In a spectacularly filmed sequence of futuristic technology involving crypto-chemistry and pulsating rings of “electrical fluid,” the robot’s metallic form is animated by draining the life force of the innocent young woman encased inside. The “electrical fluid” recalls the ichor of Talos (chapter 1) and the electricity that animates Frankenstein’s monster (chapter 6).27
FIG. 8.9. The evil Maschinenmensch (machine-human) Maria with her makers, in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927). Production still courtesy of metropolis1927.com. Scene from Metropolis film, Adoc-photos / Art Resource, NY.
In the film, Maria’s diabolical robotic doppelgänger is characterized by her hypnotic, “slow, irresistible move
ments” and an inhuman “basilisk motion of the head.” Like the strangely grinning automaton Pandora on the vase by the Niobid Painter, the artificial Maria’s “haunting loveliness” is accompanied by a “weird, incomprehensible smile.”28
Other paintings by the innovative Niobid Painter are believed to have been influenced by wall paintings in classical Athens. Was his scene of Pandora also based on a painting of similar composition in the city? That is unknown. But we do know that Pandora’s creation by Hephaestus was of such importance in Athens that it was displayed in a key location on the Acropolis. A similar “lineup” of gods and goddesses on either side of Pandora appeared in relief on the massive pedestal of the colossal gold and ivory statue of Athena inside the Parthenon.29 This masterpiece was the work of the famed sculptor Phidias in 447–430 BC. According to Pliny (36.4), writing in the first century AD, the scene on the base depicted Pandora attended by twenty gods and goddesses, who would have been nearly life-size.
FIG. 8.10. Interesting coincidences in the ancient and modern portrayals of an evil female robot. Top left, Pandora as a stiff automaton being prepared by the gods for her mission on earth (Niobid Vase, fifth century BC) and the actress being groomed for her role as the robot Maria in the film Metropolis (1927). Right, Pandora and Maria robot. Bottom, the transformation of Maria into a robotic winking and smirking double. Last image, Hope/Elpis with crooked smile, sixth century BC. Photo collage by Michele Angel.
Gods and Robots Page 17
