Alabaster Warrior-Queen

Material

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Material 〰️

Measuring 83 cm in height and only 6.3 cm across its remarkably thin profile, the Female Alabaster Figure (c. 1450) belongs to a group of large-scale alabaster sculptures whose study has been overshadowed by the predominant focus on more widespread miniature panel carvings and alabaster altarpieces. Renowned for its superior carving properties and distinctive cultural image held among viewers in the fifteenth century, alabaster is a fitting choice for this enigmatic sculpture of an unidentified crowned and armoured female – albeit a relatively unusual one, given the figure’s comparatively substantial scale. Indeed, while alabaster was typically used for smaller works and often paired with more durable materials like marble or sandstone, the belief that larger blocks were particularly scarce is inconsistent with reality. Records indicate that although European deposits offered only modest-sized blocks, the quarries in the English Midlands provided both local and continental workshops with slabs of dimensions generous enough to carve life-sized effigies. Notably, when the sculpture was featured at the 2024 Frieze Masters exhibition by Sam Fogg Gallery, it was suggested to have been produced in the English Midlands, further reinforcing the connection between this material and the region’s rich alabaster industry. Determining the material’s exact provenance, however, is an increasingly perilous enterprise, as alabaster’s remarkably pure composition and minimal containment of trace elements complicate the identification of a specific quarry.

To envision the process of the sculpture’s creation, one could imagine how an alabasterman leans in toward a slab of stone, with the chisel biting gently into the block’s veined, flat back, just where the rough tool marks on the sculpture are most visible. Alabaster’s softness, formed from ocean deposits hydrated by glaciers, would yield beneath the craftsman’s hands, revealing subtle darker veins caused by mineral residues with each precise stroke. Fresh slabs of alabaster require seasoning as the stone gradually hardens over time, with initial shaping done using a light hammer and flat chisels. The material was then carved freehand using knives and finished with a variety of tools including clawed chisels, points, and rasps for precise detail work. Thomas Belyae describes alabaster’s ‘pliancy’ as a defining characteristic, allowing for artistic effects that are seldom achieved in other types of stone. In this context, pliancy refers to alabaster’s exceptional workability, allowing sculptors to carve intricate details, such as the Female Alabaster Figure’s wavy hair and finely rendered chainmail, while also achieving smooth, flowing forms, as seen in the drapery of her robe, with greater ease than in harder stones like marble or granite.

Despite its admirable qualities as a carving material, alabaster presents challenges for sculptors due to its susceptibility to scratches and damage, which can be evidenced in the break line that runs across the body of the figure and the smoothened-out dent around the sleeve that is visible in profile. The material’s very softness, coupled with its fragile nature, demands caution: clamping the block to a workbench is out of the question – one false move could crack the entire piece. Instead, weighted sandbags were used to cradle the stone, anchoring it just enough to let the artisan shape the figure without risking its integrity.

Considering the caution required in handling the figure and the destructive nature of the Reformation, the sculpture’s overall intact condition is particularly admirable. The figure is remarkably well-preserved, except for the missing attribute in the saint’s hand and a few stress fractures are visible from the back. This is rather unusual as the number of late medieval surviving standalone alabaster sculptures of English craftsmanship is particularly low due to the turbulent times of iconoclasm these works of art had to survive. With regards to the material’s limitations, it should also be noted that the water-soluble nature of alabaster restricts its use to indoor environments only, which, coupled with the large scale of the sculpture, leads to the conclusion that it was most certainly displayed in the interior of a church. Given the striking similarity this figure bears with the Alabaster Head of Queen, it is highly probable that these two sculptures come from the same workshop and perhaps were created with the help of a template. It is known that alabastermen created their designs on thin materials like parchment or canvas, and these patterns could then be transferred onto the stone either through a powder-based technique using perforated outlines or by directly marking the stone’s surface with a fine point. The sculptures exhibit a number of parallel stylistic features: both have oval faces with prominent foreheads and protruding eyes, elongated straight noses, feminine pointed chins, and subtle half-smiles formed by pursed thin lips. Further supporting their shared origin is the rendering of the delicately sculpted trefoil crowns that secure the figures’ almost identical wavy locks. The glossy, well-polished texture of the Female Alabaster Figure was achieved at the time of its creation by smoothing the alabaster with off-cuts, pumice, sand, and polishing powders. Paul Binsky, referencing historical accounts that describe the qualities of ‘the marbles’ (alabaster was often conflated with marble in period documents), highlights how viewers perceived its surface as being ‘more polished than a fresh-grown fingernail’. The exterior of white-veined stones was likened to wax (‘quasi cera’), while the interior was compared to a honeycomb (‘intus est favus’) with its ‘sweetness’ evoked through beeswax, emphasising the need to maintain a perfectly polished surface to maximise the stone’s translucency.

What colour remains on the sculpture is hard to detect with the naked eye, as the polychromy visible in photographs from Christie’s online catalogue was later identified as a nineteenth-century addition and subsequently removed. However, the Female Alabaster Figure was likely originally polychromed, raising the possibility of reconstructing its appearance when freshly completed in the workshop. Alabaster, with its fine, porous surface, provides an ideal foundation for polychromy, as it absorbs paint without the necessity of a primer – a feature distinct from other cream- and white-coloured materials such as pumice and marble. Yet throughout history, many alabaster sculptures were either left unpainted or only partially decorated with paint and gold. Considering the peculiarities of the material’s surface reveals that the unpainted alabaster served to accentuate the sculpture’s nobility and reinforce the meditative connection established between the onlooker and the object of devotion. The belief that alabaster’s translucent, creamy hue resembles human skin tones, coupled with its inherent fragility and impermanence, strengthened its symbolic association with the fleeting nature of human existence. Furthermore, the preference for minimal colouring of alabaster sculptures is evidenced in a letter from Elector Augustus of Saxony to the Antwerp sculptor Anthonis van Seron regarding the tomb of Prince Maurice in Freiberg, which specifically instructs that only eyes and lips should be painted naturally, with gilding permitted where necessary, warning that excessive colour would diminish the work’s dignity. Hence, while it is likely that the paint was applied to the folds of the robe and on the sculpture’s bulbous eyes in a manner similar to the English alabaster figure of St. Anne and the Virgin as a Child, there is no possibility to conclusively identify just how much of the Female Alabaster Figure’s surface was originally covered by paint.

Style and Display

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Style and Display 〰️

Large-scale alabaster sculptures survive as fragmented remnants of a once magnificent and refined artistic culture. The task of establishing an art historical dialogue with such figures, however, is inevitably complicated by the widespread dispersion and displacement of alabaster carvings across Europe as a result of the Reformation – one of the major challenges facing the study. From the later 1530s to the 1550s, figurative artworks were systematically removed from England’s religious institutions, as churches and monasteries were stripped of their decorative elements, including countless alabaster works of art. While some were destroyed and others concealed for preservation, the majority were sold abroad, eventually entering the European art market. Thus, the figure’s provenance that traces it back to French private collections does not provide a definitive account of its country of origin but instead necessitates an inquiry into what the sculpture’s carving style may reveal through comparative visual analysis. One of the key features supporting the suggestion that the Female Alabaster Figure was produced in England is the distinctive treatment of her protruding eyes, which lack carved eyelids – a contrast to most alabaster sculptures of confirmed Continental origin, such as the Netherlandish Virgin with the Dead Christ attributed to the Master of Rimini. The carving of detailed eyes was an uncommon practice in the Midlands workshops; instead, sculptors typically rendered the eye as a simple protruding sphere, with features such as pupils, eyelids, and eyebrows subsequently added through painted embellishment. A similar treatment of facial features can be observed in large-scale English alabaster sculptures such as St John the Evangelist, St. Michael, and St. Paul, from the Victoria and Albert Museum’s collection. Although these figures appear less polished and refined due to their poorer state of preservation and the absence of recent restoration efforts applied to the Female Alabaster Figure, they nevertheless provide compelling evidence that English alabastermen were responsible for the sculpture’s creation. However, what problematises drawing an incontestable parallel in the question of style is the care and detail with which the hands of the figure are carved and the peculiarity of her disciplined, linear folds of drapery. Although hands in Virgin and Child, an alabaster sculpture of confirmed English origin, appear to be similarly proportionate and well-articulated, they lack the fingernails that are masterfully sculpted in the Female Alabaster Figure. With regards to the drapery, the closest comparable example is found in St. James the Great, where the straight, flowing folds evoke a sense of absolute stillness, mirroring the impression conveyed by those of the Female Alabaster Figure.

Within the Christie’s catalogue, the Female Alabaster Figure has been attributed to the tradition of the ’Nottingham alabasters’ – an umbrella term that designates most of the alabaster carvings produced in England. Medieval English alabaster carvings are often designated as ‘Nottingham alabasters’ due to the city’s comprehensive documentation of alabaster craftsmen and its strategic proximity to major alabaster sources – the principal quarries of Tutbury and Chellaston. However, broadly labelling all medieval English alabasters as ‘Nottingham alabasters’ is problematic, as evidence reveals that Nottingham was only one of several centres where alabaster sculptures were produced. Consequently, the attribution to the ‘English Midlands’, as suggested by Sam Fogg Gallery, is not only stylistically justified but also historically more accurate, reflecting the broader network of alabaster production beyond Nottingham. Now displayed in a gallery under the subtle glare of electric lights, the Female Alabaster Figure was once part of a lavishly furnished church interior, an environment that contextualised it as a fragment of a larger ensemble while also providing visual cues essential for interpreting its iconography. Several indicators suggest that the sculpture was intended to be displayed above the viewer’s eye level. The crown, when viewed from above, lacks detailing on its upper surface, implying that this part of the sculpture was not meant to be seen. Additionally, the figure’s eyes, which might appear disproportionately large when viewed straight on, achieve a more natural expressive effect when observed from below. The fixing on the back of the sculpture, a cross-shaped hook that bears iron stains on the oxidised alabaster, appears to be temporally correct and grants further support to the vertical mode of display. Considering the figure’s flat, sawn-off base with a drilled hole, it becomes even more evident that it could not have been an effigy, which would typically feature a rounded base that seamlessly integrates with the supporting stone.

Having established that the sculpture was intended to be mounted upright against a wall, it is important to further explore the possible display formats. One such possibility is the figure’s inclusion in an alabaster altarpiece. In many surviving examples, sculpted figures adorn the flanks of altarpieces, typically arranged around a central depiction of the Virgin Mary holding the Christ-child. However, several factors indicate that this sculpture was probably not intended as part of such an arrangement. The scale of the figure does not align with that of known alabaster altarpiece components, which tend to be smaller and more uniform in size to fit within a cohesive architectural framework – for example, the Swansea Altarpiece measures 83.1 cm in its total height, which suggests that excluding the dimensions of canopies and base would leave us with alabaster reliefs of a much smaller scale than the Female Alabaster Figure. Furthermore, the back of the sculpture lacks any artisan marks that would indicate its specific position within an assembled altarpiece. In contrast, alabaster panels used in altarpieces were often inscribed with Roman numerals to denote their intended placement: for instance, an incised ‘V’ would signify the fifth position in the sequence. The absence of similar markings on the back of this sculpture challenges the hypothesis of its inclusion in an altarpiece, and the figure’s substantial height and relatively independent sculptural presence suggest that it was not designed as a subsidiary element within a larger ensemble.

Another possible mode of display is within a tabernacle, as seen in Figures from a Retable of the Virgin and Child. However, it is important to note that the wooden tabernacle supporting the alabaster carvings in this example is a later addition, and no known alabaster sculptures have survived with their original tabernacles intact. Despite this lack of physical evidence, textual records indicate that this form of display was not uncommon in the late fifteenth century. A particularly revealing account comes from Palm Sunday in 1471, when King Edward IV visited Daventry church, where, as a contemporary chronicler recorded, an alabaster sculpture of Saint Anne was securely fixed to a church pillar and enclosed within a painted wooden tabernacle near the spot where the king knelt in devotion. The figure, thus, could have been positioned in a tabernacle that is similar to the one described in the chronicle. However, it should be acknowledged that this argument, just as the one in favour of its inclusion in an altarpiece, would hinge on the presupposition that the Female Alabaster Figure represents a saint. On the other hand, the hypothesis that the sculpture was housed inside of a stone niche, in the same way as the alabaster statue of St. Martialis from the cathedral of Bordeaux, would permit the figure’s identification not only with a saint but also with a warrior-queen. Despite these considerations, due to the lack of physical and documentary evidence, the original mode of display of the Female Alabaster Figure remains an open question, inviting further investigation.

Iconography

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Iconography 〰️

Suffused with the subtle brilliance of its well-polished surface, this alabaster sculpture of a crowned female figure engages the viewer with her confident serene stance and arresting blank stare. The carefully sculpted attributes in her delicate hands, combined with the sabatons enveloping her feet and the chainmail encircling her neckline, present a mystery that invites contemplation of the sculpture’s identity. When examining the iconography of medieval alabaster sculptures, challenges often arise in identifying the figures with known saints based on their attributes, especially when fragile elements, such as the object held in the Female Alabaster Figure’s right hand, have suffered damage. While alabaster figures of female saints are commonly depicted with palm leaves as a symbol of martyrdom, comparative analysis with the alabaster sculpture of St Barbara reveals that the Female Alabaster Figure is equipped with a different kind of object: the palm leaf clasped St Barbara has a ribbed surface that is different from the overall smoothened finish of the mystery object held by the sculpture in question. The remaining part of the attribute, with its plant-like texture characterised by visible ridges and small nodes, suggests that this element was originally a branch, ruling out the possibility of it being a section of a staff or another distinctly inorganic attribute like St. Catherine’s wheel. A comparison between this damaged branch and the rod of Aaron held by the alabaster sculpture of the Virgin from the British Museum suggests that the missing element from the Female Alabaster Figure may have been the upper part of a flowering staff. Although it is possible that the lost element was the flowering part of the almond rod of Aaron, which symbolised divine selection and Mary’s purity as the chosen vessel of Christ, there is an alternative consideration that the branch was topped by a more delicate flower. Unlike the Virgin and Child sculpture, the Female Alabaster Figure shows no traces of previous attachments on her perfectly polished robes, indicating that the top of the flowering staff was less massive and could have taken a different form, perhaps more resembling the flowering branch found in the fourteenth-century ivory carving of The Virgin and Child that is surmounted by bluebells. It also seems probable that the missing part was not made of alabaster, as alabaster sculptures frequently featured added details from other precious materials, such as brass or copper.

In her left hand, the figure holds a book with meticulously carved pages, positioned in a similar manner to the one held by the alabaster figure of St Peter. Almost miraculously, the book melts and disappears where it meets the sculpture’s delicate fingers with pronounced fingernails. In Christian iconography, books often symbolise scriptural authority or the transmission of sacred knowledge, making them a recurring attribute in depictions of the Virgin Mary, female saints such as St. Anne, St. Catherine of Alexandria, and St. Mary Magdalene, as well as historical women renowned for their piety or intellect. Given the widespread use of this attribute across various religious and secular contexts, the book too does not offer a definitive clue to the figure’s identity. A string of fourteen flower-shaped rosary beads is attached to the belt wrapped around the figure’s waist. The rosary emerged as a personal devotional practice during the thirteenth century, coinciding with the increasing veneration of the Virgin Mary. At its core, rosary devotion employed a string of beads as a physical aid for prayer enumeration, which symbolize the Virgin’s role as intercessor, offering a connection to the sacred and providing a material link between the contemplative act and the spiritual realm. It remains challenging to identify exactly which flower is portrayed, as the form is simplified and despite resembling a tulip flower, could not be identified as such with certainty. Moreover, the floral motif of these prayer beads cannot be convincingly traced to any of the physical rosaries within museum collections, the most closely resembling example being an intricately carved Netherlandish Rosary of Floris van Egmond and Margaretha van Glymes, which, despite lacking pronounced floral elements, shares both the uncircled form and function of the object affixed to the figure’s belt. Within the medium of prints, another potential visual source for alabastermen, a German woodcut depicts a rounded ornament consisting of flowers, its shape alluding to the spherical prayer beads held by monks.

Although the presence of prayer beads connects the figure to religious practices closely associated with the Virgin Mary, it does not necessarily confirm the figure’s identity as the Mother of Christ. Furthermore, if the figure were indeed the Virgin Mary, she would most likely be depicted holding the Christ-child, as no known examples of standalone alabaster sculptures of the Virgin from English craftsmanship survive, nor do any depict her wearing armour. The figure is dressed in a robe secured by a belt, with a mantle covering her shoulders, an attire reminiscent of the effigy of Isabella of Angoulême, which dates back to the 1250s (fig.31). Curiously, a subtle asymmetry is evident in the depiction of the sleeves — the right sleeve appears more pronounced, while the left is merely suggested by a carved line. Although the figure’s dress, particularly the guimpe-like element at the neckline, also bears resemblance to the attire worn by women in monastic orders, establishing a definitive connection to a specific community remains challenging. In provincial workshops, patterns of dress were used conservatively, with craftsmen passing down their design scrolls through generations and maintaining traditional styles in costumes and armour that often appeared older than the actual carvings. As a result, the depiction of dress and armour in the Female Alabaster Figure does not necessarily reflect historical accurate dress for the period of the sculpture’s creation, or hint at a particular saint, warrior-queen, or a representative of a certain monastic community. Previously identified as ‘possibly St. Etheldreda’ in Christie’s catalogue, this figure raises questions about the ability to align known iconographic references with its unique iconographic program. The identification with Saint Etheldreda – the foundress and abbess of a convent at Ely – based on her attributes of a crown, book, and rosary remains unconvincing, particularly given the presence of armour beneath the figure’s dress. Importantly, the sabatons and intricately carved chainmail around the Female Alabaster Figure’s neck complicate the identification of the sculpture with any recognized female saint. Armour transforms the sculpture’s body into a monumental presence, presenting it in an elevated and heroic manner, while physically and symbolically imparting a sense of gravitas. If armour is inherently associated with power, it is also, by its very nature, considered masculine, even if it is hidden behind the drapery of the Female Alabaster Figure’s dress.

In The Golden Legend, a primary textual source influencing the iconography of English alabaster carvings, female saints are depicted as engaging in spiritual rather than earthly battles, which accounts for the absence of armour in their portrayals. That is not to imply, however, that there is a complete lack of sources that depict illustrious women in armour since this iconographic motif is present in many of the illuminations from Bocaccio’s Concerning the Fates of Illustrious Men and Women (c. 1413–1415) and Christine de Pizan’s Book of the Queen (c. 1410–1414). In Boccaccio’s worldview, the highest compliment for an extraordinary woman was to portray her as fundamentally different from other women, rather than merely exceptional among them, which dictated the presence of armour in the depiction of such illustrious historical queens as Queen Thamyris, who led her armies against Cyrus the Great. Christine de Pizan similarly engages with this theme in The Book of the Queen, where she extensively explores the personalities of distinguished warrior-queens, for instance Queen Penthesilea, who fought alongside Amazons in the Trojan War. The author draws upon women’s self-sufficient society, capable of construction, administration, and self-defence without male involvement, as an inspiring foundation for her allegorical utopian vision, which explains the privilege and status granted by armour to these mythical characters. Additionally, the portrayal of women in armour also corresponds to the iconography of the Nine Worthies, a celebrated group of historical, biblical, and legendary figures renowned for their military skill and chivalric ideals. Hence, it is possible that the Female Alabaster Figure represents one of more contemporary powerful female rulers associated with Christianity – for example Eleanor of Aquitaine, Blanche of Castile, or Isabella of Angoulême – or a Worthy, yet her attributes do not establish a direct connection to a specific sovereign. Moreover, the absence of a coat of arms, a common feature accompanying depictions of the Worthies to signify their noble lineage and chivalric status, problematise the latter identification. Given that the figure was stripped of its surroundings, one could imagine that some additional elements in the decorum of the space where she belonged provided further context for the viewer. For instance, if the figure were part of a gallery of queens, a coat of arms may have been displayed nearby, enhancing the interpretability of her iconography

The ambiguity surrounding the figure’s identity, combined with her regal crown, book, and armoured attire, raises the possibility that she represents an allegorical figure rather than a specific historical, mythical, or religious individual. Among the most commonly personified virtues in fifteenth-century art, Fortitude is the only one commonly depicted wearing armour, symbolising resilience, steadfastness, and Fortitude’s potential to give strength against the seven deadly sins. This iconographic tradition can be seen in a range of sources, from manuscript illuminations, such as Fortitude from Traité des vertus cardinales and Four Cardinal Virtues: Justice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance, to panel paintings depicting seven virtues as the one by Anton Francesco dello Scheggia. What potentially complicates the identification of the Female Alabaster Figure with Fortitude, however, is that this cardinal virtue was commonly portrayed with a column and without ecclesiastical dress, with no examples emphasising the call to meditation and prayer through the depiction of attributes such as a rosary, a flowering staff, or a book.

The interplay of traditional attire and armour underscores the mysteriousness of this figure’s identity, blurring the lines between the iconography of a saint, a warrior-queen, and a virtue. Such ambiguity, combined with the loss of its original setting, problematises any attempt at definitive identification while encouraging reflection on the rich materiality of fifteenth-century English alabaster sculptures. Often characterised as objects of mass production that adhered to uniform iconography and exhibited minimal inventiveness, these works of art invite a reassessment of their artistic and conceptual complexity.