The article deals with a prominent representative of early Greek historical writing, Xanthus of Lydia, whose life and legacy have been studied extremely insufficiently; correspondingly, a number of issues still unsolved is connected with him, chronological ones among them. In particular, there are various opinions as to the time of his life, and so it is not clear whether he influenced Herodotus or vice versa. One of the reasons for that is certainly the fragmentary preservation of their writings, none of which has survived in full. However, the fragments of those texts that we have at our disposal are in the aggregate numerous, and the information they contain provides a basis for responsible judgments on many subject-plots. The article provides arguments, according to which Xanthus was Herodotus’ elder contemporary and the influence came from him. Common features between the two above-mentioned historians are analyzed.

In medieval iconography, one of the main properties of evil is its multiplicity and changeability. As we know from the works on medieval demonology published by Alexander Makhov, such fluidity of forms was often equated with disorder and contrasted with an orderly hierarchy of the sacred. The author demonstrates that this applied not only to demons, but also to figures of non-Christians, primarily Jews and Romans in scenes of the Passion of Christ. The author of the present article takes the case of the Fitzwarin Psalter, one of the most extraordinary manuscripts illuminated in England in the 14th century. He shows that the variations of forms and colors in the figures of demonized enemies of Christ were sometimes organized in the rhythmic sequences which gave disorder a partial ordering. However, even in images of saints, in which symmetry and hierarchy dominated for a long time, variations were constantly introduced. They complicated (made more “live”) the static composition and led the viewer’s gaze. These observations suggest that many of the transformations of markers of otherness that researchers have long noted should be seen not only as visual figures of evil, but also as particular instances of the desire for varietas characteristic of medieval aesthetics in general.

The article discusses the ways of using halos in Russian iconography. The sign of holiness was borrowed from ancient art is among the most frequently used and important in Christian painting. In different parts of the Christian world, many variants of the halos appeared; they were used in many situations. The halo could be depicted in various colors, different shapes (crossshaped, eight-pointed, with letters, geometric patterns), sometimes marking the characters depicted in that way. The halo distinguished not only saints, also representatives of a certain stratum, and rank (monks, bishops, priests) or characters occupying a high position on the hierarchical ladder, up to and including Lucifer and demonic characters of the Apocalypse. In Russian art, such examples remained rare. However, halos had another important role: they helped to display the dynamics of events in a visual story. Appearing or disappearing from the characters, the halos indicated the moment of the acquisition of holiness or the loss of righteousness (the latter was primarily associated with the fall of Adam and Eve). The paper discusses examples of using the halos in non-obvious situations, ways of working with that sign, and the roles that it played in Russian art.

The article deals with the phenomenon of creating new shrines in the form of large altar crosses and their cult in Russia in the 17th – 18th centuries. The work was carried out within the framework of the problematic of visual history associated with the study of the relationship between “symbolic forms” and various social and cultural “languages” of society (J.-C. Schmitt). The big cross was present in the temple interior and religious rituals of Old Russia from the first centuries of Christianization. But creating original, and not just copying Byzantine samples, monuments of such a type is associated with the activities of Patriarch Nikon. As comparatively recent studies show, the autocratic tsarist government also took part in that. Particular attention is paid to the two crosses, being the most interesting and well-preserved and famous of the newly created in the era of the first Romanovs, they however, were not considered in the same historical and cultural context. Those are the Cross of Kiy-Island of Patriarch Nikon and the “Korsun Cross” from the St. Nikolas Monastery in Pereslavl-Zalessky. The first is at the origins of a new tradition, the second completes its formation already at the beginning of the 18th century. Both recreate the image of the victorious Cross of Constantine, but go back to different models – the sacred prototype of the Cross of the Lord (Cross of Kiy-Island) and the legendary Korsun shrine of Prince Vladimir (the cross from St. Nikolas Monastery). An analysis of the history of their origin and unique iconographic programs shows the variability in the veneration of the Holy Cross in Russia in the 17th – 18th centuries.

The paper considers scenes of violence on Russian smooth painted tiles. Usually that genre scenes represent an armed warrior who kills his vanquished enemy. Related to that subject are solitary figures of mounted and foot soldiers, armed with swords, sabers, rapiers, bows and pistols. Weapons and horses became an attributes of heroic plot. The main visual source for scenes of violence on tiles was engravings from folk bibles. A variety of plots, from executions and suicide attempts to everyday scenes of a peaceful nature could be interpreted as a warrior’s victory in battle. Text cliches (mottos, that were borrowed from emblematic collections) were used as signatures on tiles, what created the narrative background: challenge to a duel or victory celebration. One can understand from the text of the Motto that the protagonist with whom the viewer of the tile could solidarize is the murderer, not the victim. Popular interest in the horror element and the popularity of the heroic plot lead to the appearance of curious ornaments: for example, the image of a warrior with a severed enemy’s head.

The article delves into the narratives of singers of tales and audiences, incorporating insights from researchers on the acquisition of the “epic gift” and the regulation of epic performance in a broad Euro-Asian context. The author distinguishes two narrative scenarios for the acquisition of the capacity to perform epics: the “vocation of the singer” and the “training of the narrator”. In the first scenario, narrators receive the epic gift through mythological initiation, such as from the heroes of tales via otherworldly encounters, dreams, or illnesses. In the second scenario, narrators are nurtured within the family of narrators, under the guidance of experienced narrators, as a result of selftraining, listening, or reading epic texts – thus try their hand and perform the epic for the audience. Such narrative scenarios complement each other, as a “vocation” often legitimizes a prolonged “training” and the formation of the singer of tales. Highlighted narrative scenarios are evident not only in traditional, but also in modern, urbanized societies, where the performance of epics is embedded into state and republican ideologies. That phenomenon can be best explained through James Scott’s concept of the state transforming social reality to better conform to bureaucratic optics and to be more manageable. However, the scenarios outlined in the article for the formation of the epic narrator in the 21st century have become a discursive form that bears little relation to the traditional training of narrators.

Ultimately, the main subject of research for a person is himself. Anthropology is the basic content of philosophy and the implicit premise of science. At the same time, a person explores himself and publishes the results of the research not only with the help of rational reasoning and a logically organized verbal text, but also through artistic, including visual, narratives. One of the most popular forms of art is cinema. At the same time, cinema has long been one of the most effective tools of anthropological knowledge. Roman Polanski’s film ‘Knife in the Water’ is one of the many artistic illustrations of the idea that moving in geographic space is not a possibility for escaping from oneself. People remain the same, even moving from one physical place (city) to another (nature), since their space is always organized around themselves and, moreover, by themselves. During the journey, the characters of the film maintain their relationships and positions that have developed in everyday life. Geographic movement can be accompanied by existential immobility, as evidenced by examples that we can find in the history of the world literature and philosophy. Roman Polanski’s film continues the above semantic line in a peculiar way and thus is an artistic contribution to philosophical anthropology.