Graffiti drawings, whether pious, votive, magical, or of other types, are found in places where prayers are offered, such as temples, churches, and mosques, but also in other public buildings. The ships depicted in places of prayer often serve as evidence of a sea voyage (actual or metaphysical)[1], but above all they are a prayer to the ‘invisible force’ to ensure safe passage or an expression of gratitude for miraculous survival in a hardship at sea.

   It is easy to discern that the inscriptions or figural graffiti in Hagia Sophia do not have a specific sacred foundation and they are incised on columns and walls devoid of sacred images. First of all, it should be noted that these incisions suggested the sacred potential of the church space and should probably be associated with its patron saint, even if his painted image is missing. The desire to leave a mark through a graffito drawing in the temple itself stems from the medieval understanding that one's power was directly related to the permanence of the act. Hence, it is not so much a marker of a visit, but through its direct interaction with the sacred surface of the church building, it becomes an eternal presence and prayer (‘to this day’). In short, ship graffiti can be associated with specific maritime endeavors and defined as prayers for safe navigation or ex-votos for a completed voyage with miraculous deliverance at sea.

   The creators of the ship graffiti respected the boundaries within the sacred space, reserved for the laity and clergy. On the ground floor, it was impossible for them to access areas in close proximity to the altar. However, those in the north aisle are located not far from the table displaying the relics of Christ's Passion and the miraculous column of St. Gregory the Wonderworker. As for those in the south aisle, it can generally be said that they are on the side of St. Nicholas, especially considering that the eastern exedra of this aisle provides access to the Chapel of St. Nicholas.[2] In the galleries, achieving proximity was easier. A cluster of 11 ship graffiti in the eastern exedra of the southern gallery is situated close to the altar apse and the Chapel of St. Nicholas. Two other graffiti in the same gallery are directly connected to the saint, while the rest are located beneath the site of his mosaic image (now lost) on the tympanum. Ultimately, the desire to establish an intimate connection with the sacred was realized not merely through the architectural framework of the building itself, but through its added significance as a ‘container of the sacred,’ which the believer invoked to establish their presence within.[3]

   The location of the ship graffiti in Hagia Sophia clearly shows that most of them are in the south and north galleries, with a few in the north and south aisles and only one in the west gallery. These places are structurally peripheral to the central nave of the temple, and in them the author of the graffiti seeks not ‘freedom’ but solitude for direct and individual communication with the Almighty. Most of the ship graffiti from our collection are made so that they are hidden from view not only at the time of their creation but also afterward. This is because they are part of a ritual that is an individual interaction between their creator and the Almighty - a ritual that renders unnecessary any mediator, be it a priest, bishop, or patriarch, to lend it legitimacy or power. These images represent aspects of secular piety at its most basic level - an informal, direct, and personal dialogue between the individual and God. For their creators, they are a constant and tangible call to the Almighty, and their power continues after the end of the liturgy or the burning of many candles. Their durability on the church walls testifies to their power in the eyes not only of their creator but also of the small community of crew and passengers, as well as those who manage to see them later. Therefore, they can hardly be described as a product of an impulsive desire to leave a tangible mark for posterity or a spontaneous form of nonverbal expression, whose graphic nature is often just a scribble; instead, they suggest a thoughtful and consistent action. I have no doubt that there was an official ban on writing on the walls of the temple, but everyone wrote - both secular and clergy, both literate and illiterate. If these images had been considered destructive or unwanted, they could have been removed or erased at any time. But their preservation to this day shows that this did not happen and they were not perceived by the church authorities as vandalism, but as a legitimate and vivid expression of the faith and piety of those whose lives are connected with the sea.

   The key to understanding ship graffiti is the study of their context, which includes not only place (Constantinople) and time (mid-9th/end of the 11th – 18th century) but also their medium (marble walls and columns in Hagia Sophia). Studying the technical details in the images gives us an exceptional opportunity to understand past ways of thinking, concepts, and solutions. Furthermore, I tried to present the history of these drawings from the point of view of their creators, and not just to impose arbitrary academic constructions.

   Finding an answer to the question of who is responsible for their creation is a quite difficult task. The difficulty comes primarily from the variation in the level of detail and quality of the collected ship graffiti. There is no doubt, however, that the range of variations—from fairly accurate to rough images—is clear evidence that some of them are creations of people with seafaring experience and practice, while others could be more the result of observation from the shore rather than immediate experience. Therefore, they can reflect the practices inherent in different professional communities and social groups. Such a judgment is significant for a coastal city like Constantinople, with a central role in the complex network of communications and exchanges connecting the western Mediterranean, the Black Sea and the Islamic Middle East, where sailors and fishermen felt the need to protect themselves and their vessels during sea voyages. This need, however, also extended to all non-seafarers (pilgrims, merchants, soldiers, etc.) who found themselves in this place.

   It is worth recalling that the sea was once considered a dangerous space, more or less abandoned by God to the Devil, dominated by sin and fatal danger. For sailors, it meant a life without communion and anointing, without burial in consecrated ground, and with the gloomy prospect of their souls wandering eternally. All this led sailors and seafarers to turn to an ‘invisible power’ or to privileged saints with appeasing or grateful rites. They would promise, when in danger, to dedicate a gift to this power if they were saved. Hence, these images were created to function as ex-voto items with an invocatory or votive purpose; perhaps in the same manner as the votive ‘church ships’ known to have been offered in many Western churches. However, a lack of money likely forced sailors to replace physical votive ships with carved graffiti. Furthermore, they did not need splendor; for their creators, these graffiti were a constant and tangible appeal to the Almighty.

   Of course, not all ships carved into church walls should be classified as votive. The simplest of these may be Christian symbols (e.g., № 5 Sg[4]), while others may serve as a marker of presence or an ideogram (e.g., № 2 Sg and 14 Ng) designed to convey a concept rather than to depict an object.[5] However, it is difficult to determine to what extent two of the Viking ship graffiti (№№ 1 Sg and 1 Ng) are merely the work of bored sailors. The same is true for the vessels under №№ 1 Wg, 7 and 8 Sg, 11 Ng, 1 and 2 Na, and 2 and 3 Sa. In these cases, one might assume they functioned as a symbol of religious communication associated with specific maritime endeavors and a desire to integrate them into the sacred fabric of the church.

   In the Orthodox Church, someone seeking a miracle due to a physical, social, or spiritual need would pray before an icon, communicating with the saint's prototype through touching, kissing, lighting a candle, or other acts. If the miracle was granted, the individual would return to the church to offer praise and thanksgiving, often in a material form.[6] However, we have no evidence of the ex-voto practice known from Catholic churches—such as wax or wooden ship models—being inherent to Hagia Sophia. In Byzantium, the patron saint of sailors, and eventually of all travelers, was St. Nicholas of Myra.[7]

   However, it is clear that Western Mediterranean European ships dominate our collection. One would therefore expect their captains and crews to adhere to established Roman Catholic practices, which permitted various forms of ex-voto, including wax or wooden ships in places of worship. Yet this custom was not inherent to the ‘Great Church’ or the Byzantine sphere. The empirical material from Hagia Sophia, which spans from 537 to the present day, clearly shows no ship graffiti earlier than the 13th century. While I am aware of the difficulties in dating graffiti, based on distinctive ship features, I suggest a chronological span of the 13th to 15th centuries for most of these drawings.[8] The problem, then, is the absence of ship graffiti from the second half of the 6th century until the end of the 12th century. I must reiterate that the earliest records of medieval ex-voto ships date from the 12th century.[9] Does this mean that the appearance of ship graffiti in Hagia Sophia is linked to this rapidly growing popular practice, spread by merchants, pilgrims, and crusaders? Alternatively, might it be connected to the shipping monopoly and international maritime trade established by the Italian maritime republics (Venice, Genoa, Pisa, Amalfi), which set up trading posts in the East thanks to economic privileges granted by the Byzantine emperor? By the 12th century, especially after the Crusades, the Eastern Mediterranean had ceased to be a Byzantine maritime monopoly. Perhaps the appearance of ship graffiti represents a combination of these factors: a Western practice arriving hand-in-hand with the rise of Italian maritime trade and shipping.

   Perhaps the answer lies in Orthodox practice, which involved praying with a lighted candle before an icon of St. Nicholas before sailing, carrying his icon on board, and praying to it in difficult moments, followed by a thanksgiving prayer after a successful voyage. The reason for the graffiti may be that foreigners, through their ships, also brought specific religious practices related to the votive ships typical of the Catholic Church. In Orthodox contexts, however, these physical offerings were replaced by ship graffiti.

   In support of this assumption, we can refer to the words of M. Walsh and define the ship graffiti on the walls of the Great Church as the work of transitional maritime communities.[10] Thus, they can be seen as a fleeting glimpse of another culture passing through this place, and therefore culturally alien to the locals. Consequently, it is theoretically possible for an image of the same ship to reappear elsewhere in the Mediterranean. Fortunately, we have a specific example from our collection in this regard: drawing № 13 from the South gallery reveals a striking resemblance to a galley from the church of St. George Teratsiotis in Famagusta, Cyprus (late 15th - early 16th century).[11] This idea may not be unfounded, but the current evidence is too limited and requires more research to become a definitive statement.

   One graffito stands out (№ 3 Sg) as a rare example of a votive scene, created by a sailor (or passenger?) with a figurative representation of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of sailors and travelers. It is undoubtedly an expression of gratitude for salvation from a shipwreck after calling on the saint's name for help. Survival at sea during a storm is completely out of a sailor's hands, and with little chance of finding shelter, the only recourse is prayer and faith in a ‘Higher Power,’ invoked through these drawings. The presence of a patron saint (most often St. Nicholas), to whom prayers for salvation are directed, is a common feature of ex-voto drawings. In this context, the calligraphic Arabic inscriptions ‘Allah’ or ‘God’ next to the vessel in № 9 Ng should also be considered. Here, it is not a proper name that is engraved—which would be meaningless in this respect—but a sign of faith and proof of presence by the creator.

   What is more intriguing is that in some images the vessels are overturned, apparently representing a fatal accident. There is no reason to doubt that this is another hint of a votive offering in images (№№ 6, 12 and 13 Sg). These are the work of a sailor, serving as tacit evidence of protection received from an ‘invisible power’ and expressing gratitude for subsequent deliverance from mortal danger, rather than a request for future help. This is an event that the pious supplicant considers a profound miracle, yet simultaneously perceives as an indispensable part of a sailor’s life. One could even assume that the unfinished ship graffiti are related to and reflect, to some extent, the damage suffered by the vessel.

   And since the Ottoman period of the temple is also relevant, a curious detail must be mentioned. The founding deed of 1663 for the Yeni Camii in Istanbul records a man whose sole duty was to clean the painted or incised graffiti (nakış) in this complex of buildings day after day.[12] Whether this was the case for the Hagia Sophia/Ayasofya mosque cannot be confirmed, but the destruction has mainly affected Christian symbolism.

   Furthermore, according to Zeineb Yürekli, ‘illiterate visitors marked their presence in the cult building through carved images of birds, bowls of dervishes, ships, the sword Zulfikar, Hand of Fatima, fishes, etc.’[13] However, due to the key features reflected in graffito № 1 from the south aisle—the reinforced stem with its triple tip and the arrumbada on the bow—we do not believe that its artist was illiterate, at least not in a nautical sense.

   Although additional information and archaeological evidence are needed to fully clarify the exact function and significance of ship graffiti in places of worship, one thing is clear: they represent, even centuries later, the direct and tangible link that navigation and trade played in the life and livelihood of Constantinople/Istanbul.

   What is striking when one becomes acquainted with the ship graffiti carved into the marble of Hagia Sophia? First, they are not intended to serve as interior decoration and are almost invisible from a distance. Second, they are neither the work of professional artists, executed according to the canons of official art, nor do they follow a technically correct depiction of a ship.

   Although they appear to be elementary drawings—'refracted (my italics - Th. Thomov) through the eyes, culture, education, mental attitudes, and skills of their creators'[14]—they often contain a small number of distinctive characteristics that must be recognized to identify a specific ship or type. In other words, their critical examination can yield valuable observations and contribute new knowledge, especially concerning those parts of a ship that do not survive a wreck or cannot be deduced from other forms of evidence, whether written or visual. The ships are always depicted in profile, never from the bow or stern. This side view is determined by the drawing's votive function; it portrays not just any ship, but the individual vessel of the petitioner with its characteristic features, which are most clearly distinguishable from this perspective. The purpose of the drawing is to convey the fate of the ship into God's hands, not to experiment with the aesthetic possibilities of other viewpoints, as it is not a work of art.[15]

   Moreover, it should be noted that these are not usually imaginary sketches, but represent a certain type or even a specific vessel connected in some way to the life of the person who incised it. The degree of their conformity to the prototype depends on the creator's knowledge, the difficulties of transferring it to a hard surface, available sources of information, the artist's skill, and prevailing artistic canons. Consequently, it is hardly surprising that we find disproportionate, small, compact, exaggerated, or entirely omitted elements of ship architecture.

   If we observe the height of the graffiti from the floor, we notice that many are at eye level, while others required their creator to work while kneeling (№№ 3, 15, 16, and 18 Sg, № 9 Ng) or even in a semi-recumbent position (№ 19 Sg). In any case, the low placement can be interpreted as an expression of the author's intention to emphasize his personal weakness, insignificance, and humility before the ‘invisible power’—whether in gratitude for an answered prayer for salvation or in supplication for protection for a forthcoming journey.

   It is difficult to say precisely what tools were used to cut them into the marble, but they clearly varied, from knives and thin chisels to iron pens or other sharp implements like nails. The carving was achieved by repeatedly scoring the same groove, as the desired depth and shape could not be achieved in a single pass. How long did it take to carve a graffito? A few hours, a day, or even more? No one can give a definitive answer. One thing is clear: it is very difficult to scratch marble. However, driven by need and urge, humans tend to be inventive and willing to devote the necessary time. It is pertinent to recall here that, according to R. Taft, from the 14th century onward, the galleries of Hagia Sophia were reserved for the imperial entourage and nobles, while common people occupied the central nave and side aisles on the first floor. In the absence of written information, it is difficult to take a firm stance for or against the presence of ordinary secular men and women in the other galleries.[16] In other words, the galleries were a traditional architectural element in the church, serving as additional spaces with a universal purpose.[17]

   The dimensions of the ship graffiti vary significantly. They begin with small examples only 4-4.5 cm in length (№№ 8 and 22 Sg), while others exceed 30 cm (№№ 3, 4, 11, and 12 Sg; №№ 5, 6, and 7 Ng), with some even reaching 61 cm (№ 14 Sg). The average size is between 15-25 cm in length. However, this does not make them easier to recognize, as from a distance they are almost invisible. Some of the larger ones (№№ 12, 14 Sg and №№ 5, 6, 7 Ng) are reminiscent in scale of two 15th-century votive wooden ships, or ‘scaled-down copies of real ships’:[18] the first from Ebersdorf near Chemnitz in Saxony (115 x 51 cm), and the second, the so-called ‘Mataro ship’ (123 x 43 cm).[19] Incidentally, in some ship graffiti (№№ 6 and 7 Ng), one can even perceive a concept of three-dimensionality, as the vessel is presented in a three-quarter view, as if the author were trying to show a model. Others (№№ 21 Sg and 12 Ng), though smaller in size, also fall into this category due to their abundance of technical details.

   Some of these images demonstrate a very good knowledge of Mediterranean shipbuilding, as suggested by the specific types of vessels depicted (the numerous galleys and ‘round ships’). Their authors rendered their vessels with such detail that it allows us not only to distinguish between different types of ships but even to observe stages in their development. Such a high level of accuracy can be found in ship graffiti №№ 15 Sg and 12 Ng. Precisely these technical details—related to the bow[20] and stern[21] of the galleys, the shape of the hull profile[22], the superstructures of the sailing ships[23], the stern rudder, and the number, location, and shape of the sails and rigging—are the main reason to assume that their authors belonged to the category of ‘seamen.’ These were likely crew members or ordinary sailors who could confidently demonstrate their experience in matters related to shipbuilding and navigation.[24]

   The more general and somewhat rough style of certain drawings suggests that their authors had no specific knowledge of shipping or were ordinary people[25] who, for some reason, had taken or planned a sea voyage without intending to emphasize specific ship traits.[26] While the lack of rigging on galleys is unsurprising—as it was common practice to lower and retract it before combat and when not in use—its absence on sailing ships is more difficult to explain. In any case, the practice of lowering yards in port was common for the latter. The masts, cut into the hulls all the way to the keel, are a common feature in graffiti from other locations, but the elegant, long protrusion of the bows further complicates the vessel's identification.

   Finally, there are fifteen ship images that could be the work of either sailors or non-sailors, with no definitive way to determine which is more likely.[27]

   The appearance of some drawings serves as a pretext to depict moments of life on board and the sailors' daily challenges. In this respect, the scene in drawing № 11 Ng is impressive, presenting the continuous work of sailors on the ship's masts, the helmsman steering, and the lowering or raising of the ship's flag. Another image (№ 11 Sg) shows a method of fishing with a long net, while in № 15 Sg, three miniature human figures are drawn in the centrally placed crow's nest, with the far-right figure shown working with the topsail rope.

   With the exception of three inscriptions—the Greek words for ‘Jonah’ (№ 11 Sg) and ‘Lord, help’ (№ 18 Sg), along with the two Arabic calligraphic inscriptions for ‘Allah’/‘God’ (№ 9 Ng)—none of the drawings provide a direct answer regarding the social or ethnic background of their authors. If we assume that the inscriptions and drawings are from the same hand, then their authors could be Greek or Ottoman. However, it is impossible to determine whether they were sailors or merely passengers. The noted name ‘Jonah’ and its history, being closely related to the sea and seafaring life, tip the scales in favor of the former.

   It is nearly impossible to define the nationality of the ships from the graffiti, although the tops of the masts of some ships[28], the bow (№ 20 Sg), or the area above the stern superstructure[29] display flying triangular, square, or rectangular flags of different sizes. This aligns with the well-established practice of ships raising mandatory flags on the bow, masts, and stern when entering or leaving a port.[30] The stern flag, considered the most representative place on a ship until the end of the 18th century[31], was the ‘most important’ and ‘most respected,’ serving as the main symbol of the vessel and equal in importance to today's national flags.[32] Only in four ship graffiti[33] do the crosses on the flags allow for easy recognition, such as the flag of the Genoese commune with the cross of St. George, and an Ottoman-Turkish ‘sanjak’ in the flag with the crescent and the forked sword ‘Zulfikar’ from № 9 Ng.

   Unsurprisingly, the ship graffiti show that the flag of Genoa dominates—a reflection of its status as one of the leading naval powers of the time, whose energy was concentrated on Mediterranean trade and the spread of Eastern goods to the West through its trading colonies in the Levant and around the Black Sea. The Genoese controlled the sea highway to Constantinople and the West, which passed through their colony of Pera beyond the Golden Horn, displacing the Byzantine capital as a trading center and an indispensable geographical transit point between the Black and Aegean Seas.

   The flagpole (№ 20 Sg) is, incidentally, the other point of honor where a flag is raised. Narrow flags with a sharp edge and different lengths in some images can be defined as pennants, which on galleys were sometimes so long that they reached the water. An interesting and important detail in this regard is offered by drawing № 11 in the northern gallery, which shows a human figure raising or lowering a small triangular flag on the main mast. A closer look at this figure and the other two on board shows that they are wearing small, shallow hats in the Western European fashion. However, this cannot serve as a definitive sign for determining the ‘national’ identity of the sailors or the ship itself.

   One final note, connected to the above information, concerns a curious detail. The presence of a short double spiron on the bow, found mainly in Venetian galleys from the 14th and 15th centuries, in some images (№ 2 Ng) might suggest a Venetian vessel. However, turning to graffito № 20 Sg, we see the same spiron on a ship identified as Genoese. This indicates that this element was also used on vessels outside the Venetian arsenal, as light galleys were built in Genoa based on Venetian models. This shows that the arguments for and against a Venetian attribution are equally balanced. While any distinct conclusion remains hypothetical, the former seems slightly more likely, though this is far from certain.

   The ship graffiti from Hagia Sophia can be subdivided into two large groups: those of Western European (44 pieces) and those of local, Eastern European construction (9 pieces). The available models are evenly distributed (16 each) between oared ships with masts and sails—galleys (both light[34] and great[35])—and transport sailing ships (with all the conditional nature of terms such as cog/cocha[36] and carrack[37]), with a dominance of Western European design. The latter, which are rich in detail and demonstrate knowledge of specific design features, show a blend of northern and southern European shipbuilding traditions. The hull, main mast with a single square sail, and a single stern-mounted rudder reflect northern techniques, while the presence of a fore- or mizzen-mast with a lateen sail shows southern influence. This combination of attributes suggests that the depicted ships were probably built in the western Mediterranean by shipbuilders who sought to model the desired qualities of the cog using southern technology. The graffiti thus provide technical details regarding the adaptation of northern construction techniques by southern shipyards. In this respect, ship № 12 Ng is highly indicative; the combination of northern and southern attributes, along with a flag bearing a cross, points to probable construction in the Western Mediterranean or in Genoa. More importantly, this illustrates that besides the cog, "other northern types [such as the keel] .... were adopted and adapted for use in the Mediterranean."[38]

   The ships from the second group are presented more schematically, yet their authors demonstrate an understanding of the vessels' main components. The oared ships with masts and sails—light galleys (№№ 15 Ng and 1 Sg), which formed the backbone of the Ottoman navy until the 17th century—are especially well rendered. The history of the Ottoman navy is rich and well-studied. While early Ottoman galleys were based on Greek models, later versions incorporated designs from the English, Italian, and Dutch fleets.[39] Furthermore, the construction and management of the Ottoman fleet were primarily carried out by converts to Islam or hired foreigners.[40]

   In addition to galleys, the collection includes derivative vessels (№ 9 Sg) as well as coasting vessels (№№ 10, 11, 17, and 2 Sg, and 10 Ng). However, the informational value of the ship graffiti should not be exaggerated, especially considering the words of J. Muscat that it must be viewed objectively, and although it "suggest[s] a possible nomenclature for a ship one must not imagine details that cannot be deciphered in the graffito."[41]

   We also find a small group of started but unfinished ship graffiti, whose method of propulsion—oared or sailing—cannot be determined. This group includes small vessels like boats or small ships (№№ 22 Sg and 2 Sa), as well as those falling into the category of ‘long ships’ (№ 13 Ng).

   It is necessary to emphasize that among the ship graffiti there is not a single image of the galleon or galeasse, types typical of the 16th century. Another distinctive feature, with only two exceptions (№№ 15 Sg with gun ports on the side and 1 Sa with an arrumbada), is the absence of artillery, which became more widespread on ships only after the end of the 15th century, making the 16th century a plausible chronological limit.

   Attempting to date non-epigraphic graffiti, such as ship graffiti, with an acceptable degree of accuracy is extremely difficult. In most cases, only a terminus post quem can be proposed based on a specific feature or ship type.

   With all due reservations, a wide time span from the middle of the 9th / end of the 11th century to 1700 must be proposed for the creation of the graffiti in Hagia Sophia. The grounds for the early date come from images of versatile Viking ships[42] from the early Viking Age, left by someone as a mark of their presence. For the latter date, we possess several drawings of galleys with features characteristic of their time.[43] However, the characteristic features observed in the silhouette of different vessels help to narrow this dating for some of the oared[44] and all the sailing ships, placing them between the end of the 13th and the 16th century, with several of the oared type dating from the 16th to the 18th century.[45]

   Among the established features, one should note the U-shaped profile or waist of the hull, characteristic of the carrack, enclosed between a high forecastle—stepped atop a curved, upward stempost—and a visibly lower sterncastle at the rear.[46] Next is the evident interest in the single stern rudder attached to the round ships of the Mediterranean, a feature that was perceived and began to be widely adopted after the second half of the 14th century. It turns out to be one of the most detailed elements[47] shown in the graffiti, especially in ships represented only by their hulls.[48]

   It is difficult to say what prompted this emphasized interest in the ship's steering mechanism, which is not among the most obvious elements. Certainly, one could assume that for an ordinary passenger or a layman in seafaring matters, the fact that it is assembled and fastened with iron straps would be of little importance. For a seafarer, however, its damage would render the ship unmanageable and an easy victim at sea. Therefore, a graffito drawing that accentuates the stern rudder is likely the work of a skilled sailor, and the drawing itself acquires the meaning of a prayer to the ‘invisible force’ for safe navigation. Let us also note that side steering oars on the galleys can be seen in only two drawings, which depict a large[49] and a light[50] vessel. This type of rudder was completely replaced after the middle of the 15th century by curved[51] and straight rudders[52] attached to the stern.

   In some of the ship graffiti, one can trace the development of the spiron in galleys, which was thick and short in the 14th century and used as a boarding bridge.[53] The double spiron was typical for Venetian vessels during the 14th - 15th centuries.[54] It gradually became long and narrow in the 16th century, evolving into a decorative element in the next.[55] The return of the square sail on sailing ships in the early 14th century (at first on single-masted vessels[56]), the appearance of a second mast in the 1450s[57], and finally the three-masted ships from the middle of the 15th century also provide chronological benchmarks.[58] To this can be added two elements of the sail plan that appeared in the late 15th century: the topsail above the mainsail on the mainmast (№ 15 Sg) and the square sail on the bowsprit—the so-called ‘spritsail’ or ‘blind’ (№ 16 Sg).

   It should be no surprise that most of these ship graffiti depict Western-style vessels and chronological benchmarks coinciding with the period of Italian domination in the lucrative trans-Mediterranean trade from the 13th to the 15th centuries, which organized markets according to Western needs.[59] Moreover, Venice[60], beginning immediately after the Fourth Crusade, and Genoa from the 14th century onwards, acquired a series of important colonies in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea. These, together with their semi-autonomous enclaves in Constantinople, allowed them to penetrate the Byzantine Empire's regional trade to a much greater extent than in the 11th and 12th centuries.[61] Although Byzantium was thus integrated into the system of international trade, it was Italian domination that caused serious damage to local merchants and the imperial treasury.[62]

   In the course of this process, the Eastern Mediterranean in general, and Byzantium in particular under the Palaeologan dynasty (1261-1453), became an exporter of food and raw materials and an importer of Western European manufactured goods.[63] This also predetermined the use of large transport ‘round ships’ such as the cocca[64]—the most technologically advanced and economically viable medieval sailing ship in the Mediterranean—or its subsequent replacement, the carrack. The carrack was one of the largest transport ships of the 15th and 16th centuries, with a displacement of between 400 and 600 tonnes, carrying mixed cargoes ranging from dried fruit, wine, and olive oil to alum, gold dust, and grains.[65] All this is explained by the fact that in the pre-modern era, maritime transport was significantly cheaper than land transport, and hence maritime trade, despite its associated risks, was more profitable.[66]

   There is no denying that the composition of individual elements in the drawings is the authors' ‘Achilles’ heel,’ primarily due to their desire to show as many things as possible—often resulting in elements that are scattered or indiscriminately clustered.[67] Sometimes, however, an intuitive sense of composition is evident. Undoubtedly the most successful and complete composition is the ex-voto scene with St. Nicholas (№ 3 Southern gallery), where a promising spatial solution has been achieved. In the foreground, three ships are arranged diagonally, one above the other, with dimensions gradually decreasing to suggest depth—the largest is the nearest, and the smallest the most distant—set against the figure of the saint on the seashore. A similar approach is observed with the two ships in № 4 Sg.

   Some ships or their parts are shown in perspective; for example, drawings № 3.1 Sg and №№ 6, 7, and 12 Ng are rendered in a three-quarter view, typical for illustrators of nautical charts and manuscripts. Furthermore, it is necessary to note the presentation of ship graffiti in pairs, as shown in №№ 15 and 16 Sg and 6 and 7 Ng, which suggests ships sailing in a convoy. The use of ‘professional’ artists to create ship graffiti is an exception and a practice that is difficult to substantiate.

   Another observation is that movement is expressed in several drawings through skillfully employed techniques. For example, in some,[68] sails are shown billowing in the wind, while in others, flags are used to achieve this effect.[69] Drawing № 16 Sg depicts a bird in motion, representing not only movement itself but also the author’s desire to capture everything happening in both the human world and nature. In short, the use of such techniques serves a single goal: to make the image more convincing and dynamic.

   Incidentally, an elongated structure with a sharp roof in front of the bow of a ship in another drawing (№ 4 Sg) demonstrates the author's strive to depict everything that excited or impressed him, intending to better illustrate his narrative. There are two possibilities for its origin. The first is that the graffito's author saw a similar structure on Italian or Western sea charts from the 14th–15th centuries.[70] The second is that the building's appearance is due to personal observation; notably, when entering the Golden Horn, ships pass the tower known today as Kız Kulesi (Maiden’s Tower) in the Bosphorus. Buildings and landscape elements in these drawings help to emphasize the significance of the depicted scenes.

   Focusing on the location of the ship graffiti, 51 images are documented on the walls of the galleries and side aisles (some featuring more than one ship), with a clear preference for the southern gallery (33 images) and the southern aisle (3 images) that is not easily explained. One possible explanation is that the choice of location is related to the authors’ desire to be closer to the patron saint of sailors, given the image of St. Nicholas on the south tympanum above the south gallery. In the case of the southern aisle, this could be because it provides access via the ‘Door of the Poor’ to the area behind the apse of Hagia Sophia, where the Chapel of St. Nicholas is located. Regarding the northern gallery, a common notion is that during worship services, men stood on the south side and women on the north. However, if this space was reserved solely for women, it would be difficult to explain the accumulation of numerous Latin inscriptions with male names on the marble plates of the north-eastern pylon in the northern gallery—including those of sea captains (e.g., Nicholo Chapatoni)—as well as nineteen ship graffiti, which are almost certainly not the work of women.

   Concerning the selection of surfaces for more complex ship graffiti (№№ 15, 16, 21 Sg and 12 Ng), it is possible that these spots were chosen due to a lack of pre-existing drawings or because they provided sufficient space to fulfill the author’s intentions. In other cases, however, the motivation appears different: not a search for a ‘clean’ surface, but rather a deliberate choice to draw on a surface already bearing other carved ship images (e.g., №№ 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 15, 16, 19 and 20 Sg; 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 13, 14 and 15 Ng).

   The appearance of the Viking ship (№ 14 Ng) is also curious, as it is located very close to where a runic inscription from the second half of the 11th to the first half of the 12th century was found. To some extent, one could assume this proximity influenced the choice of location. Finally, it should be noted that in other ship graffiti, the available space appears to have been insufficient (or inconsistent with the drawing's scale), resulting in some elements being deformed (№ 9 Ng) or missing entirely (№ 3 Ng).

   In searching for the place of the ship graffiti from Hagia Sophia among similar images from the Eastern Mediterranean (in particular Greece and the Greek islands, Cyprus, and Trabzon), the Western Mediterranean (e.g., Malta, Salento, Venice, Barcelona, and Palma de Mallorca), the Balkans (Nessebar, Plovdiv, and Ohrid), and the Crimean peninsula (Kalamita), even a cursory comparison shows that, despite their stylistic diversity, they share stable common features. The traditions associated with their creation were universally known and understood throughout the Mediterranean and the rest of Europe. Among these features, the main ones can be summarized as follows: the ship is shown in full profile (with some exceptions in our collection), from the port or starboard side, with the hull visible from the keel line upwards rather than from the waterline; sails are absent in most graffiti and, where present (usually in more complex drawings), are shown folded on the yards; single-masted vessels dominate, although multi-masted ships are well attested from the 15th century onwards; and there is a clear effort to depict rigging and a ‘crow’s nest’ in a significant number of the graffiti, regardless of their complexity—a sign of sea-going ships.[71] Although these observations are broad, they help us avoid an inherent visual over-unification of the images.

   Beyond these common features, and despite the variety of ship graffiti in the Eastern Mediterranean, there is only one case of a very close match: a galley from Hagia Sophia and another from the church of St. George Teratsiotis in Famagusta, Cyprus (late 15th - early 16th century). Theoretically, one could speculate that the galley from Famagusta suffered a fatal shipwreck en route to Constantinople, as suggested by its depicted 180-degree capsizing, and that a survivor was the author of the drawing.

   In any case, these drawings express the feelings and prayers of a small community—the crew and probably the passengers of a ship—formed by those who believe in their efficacy and power. This community is explicitly shown in two drawings, № 15 Sg and № 11 Ng. I will refrain from broader speculation about possible related interactions, as any such claims would be purely hypothetical. Apparently, such a drawing was commissioned by someone, or on behalf of the entire crew, following a successful rescue from peril at sea. It was the only way to preserve the memory of the event and to allow someone, often illiterate, to tell his story to others. In this way, ordinary sailors—most often illiterate, or if they could write, rarely doing so—visualize their experiences and express their religious feelings, which in turn helps them endure their demanding daily life. In other words, these ex-voto drawings create a bridge between the unpredictable life of the sea, interrupted by storms and other fatal dangers, and survival, perceived as a blessing bestowed by a higher divine power.

   After all, a practice uncharacteristic of Orthodox believers found its place on the walls of Orthodox churches, either due to the site's religious significance or because the creators of the ship graffiti had no particular allegiance to either the Catholic or Orthodox faith in their personal religiosity. These graffiti are a clear expression of that personal sphere of faith.

   In conclusion, we can summarize the overall picture provided by the collection of 51 ship graffiti from Hagia Sophia/Ayasofya. All that has been said about them and the vessels they depict cannot, of course, claim to be complete. The data these drawings provide are not sufficient to answer all the questions that arise. Many questions and gaps remain, necessitating assumptions and conjectures—some of which may be bold.

   Graffiti is a common artifact, yet it is often overlooked, perhaps because it is now associated mainly with vandalism and is seen as something shameful that should be removed. However, when left unread, these marks gradually lose their meaning, even though the information they contain is first-hand and provides a unique opportunity to glimpse into past societies, revealing the lives and daily experiences of common people.

   That is why it is worth researching and bringing to light the ‘voices’ of those who left their mark in the hope of being heard for a long time—even if we do not fully understand what they are trying to say.

   The final result of this study is the accumulation of new, valuable information about medieval shipping and vessels in general. These ship graffiti become even more significant when their characteristics are confirmed by similar images, as well as textual or archaeological data.

   However, the most important achievement is the creation of a comprehensive corpus of ship graffiti from Hagia Sophia. This corpus contains key information that will serve as a basis for further research on the maritime history of Constantinople/Istanbul, and to which new data can be added at any time.

 

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[1] L. Safran, The Medieval Salento: Art and Identity in Southern Italy, Philadelphia, 2014, 173.

[2] C. Mango: The Brazen House. A Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople, With an Appendix by Ernest Mamboiry, København, 1959, 60-72, 80-81; R. Janin, La géographie ecclésiastique de l’ Empire byzantin. vol. 1: Le siège de Constantinople et le patriarcat oecuménique. pt. 3 Les églises et les monastères, Paris, 19692, 368-369.

[3] M. Trentin, Mediaeval and Post Medieval graffiti in the Churches of Cyprus, in: POCA 2007. Postgraduate Cypriot Archaeology Conference, S. Christodoulou and A. Satraki (eds.), Newcastle upon Tyne, 2010, 302.

[4] The following abbreviations are used in the text: Northern aisle = Na; Southern aisle = Sa; Northern gallery = Ng; Southern gallery = Sg, Western gallery = Wg.

[5] E. Le Bon, Ancient Ship Graffiti: Symbol and Context, in: The Ship as Symbol in Prehistoric and Medieval Scandinavia, (eds.) C. O. Pedersen and B. Thye, Copenhagen, 1995, 172-179.

[6] Safran, The Medieval Salento, 160.

[7] Ch. Jones, Saint Nicholas of Myra, Bari and Manhattan. Biography of a Legend, Chicago, 1978: 7-43, 73-94, 176-193; N. Ševčenko, The Life of Saint Nicholas in Byzantine Art, Torino, 1983: 22-23; M. Mullett, 16. In Peril on the Sea: Travel Genres and the Unexpected, in: Travel in the Byzantine World, (ed.) Ruth Macrides. Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2002, 267; J. Wade, Sailors, Merchants and the Maritime Cults that Sailed into the Ports (and Streets) of Early Byzantium, in: Byzantium, Its Neighbours and Its Cultures, (eds.) Danijel Dzino, Ken Parry, Leiden-New York, 2017, 280.

[8] Late, post-Byzantine and Ottoman ship graffiti are not taken into account.

[9] A. Timmermann, The Ship in the Shop: An Art History of Late Medieval Ship Models, The International Journal of Maritime History 33/2 (2021) 262.

[10] M. Walsh, ‘On of the Princypalle Havenes of the See’: The Port of Famagusta and the Ship Graffiti in the Church of St. George of the Greeks, Cyprus, The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 37/1 (2008) 116.

[11] St. Demesticha, K. Delouca, M. Trentin, N. Bakirtzis & A. Neophytou, Seamen on Land? A Preliminary Analysis of Medieval Ship Graffiti on Cyprus, The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 46/2 (2017) 362 and 363, Fig. 12, b (i), D02 и D03.

[12] Z. Aygen, International Heritage and Historic Building Conservation: Saving the World’s Past, (Routledge Studies in Heritage 3), London, 2013, 15.

[13] Z. Yürekli, Architecture and Hagiography in the Ottoman Empire: The Politics of Bektashi Shrines in the Classical Age, (Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Studies), London, 2016, 148.

[14] Sh. Wachsmann, Seagoing Ships and Seamanship in the Bronze Age Levant, College Station – London, 1998, 5.

[15] P. von Busch, New Finds in Boat Graffiti, in: Postmedieval boat and ship archaeology. Papers based on those presented to an International Symposium on Boat and Ship Archaeology in Stockholm in 1982, (ed.) C. O. Cederlund, British Archaeological Reports, International Series 256, Oxford, 1985, 366.

[16] This was the conclusion drawn by Taft 1998: 42.

[17] For example, see the words of G. Pachymeres († ca. 1310) who states that ‘the whole people’ attended the service in Hagia Sophia, thus the galleries increased the capacity of the church, especially in cases when the believers turned out to be too numerous. Cf. Marinis 2014: 92.

[18] Timmermann, The Ship in the Shop, 287.

[19] Timmermann, The Ship in the Shop, 268-270.

[20] №№ 6, 9, 20 Sg, 2, 8, 9, 11, 15 Ng and 1 Sa.

[21] №№ 6, 13, 19 Sg, 3, 8, 9, 11, 15 Ng, 2 Na.

[22] №№ 7, 8, 14, 17, 18, 19 Sg, 1 Na.

[23] №№ 3.2, 12, 15, 16, 19, 21 Sg, 4, 5, 6, 7, 12 Ng, 1 Na.

[24] №№ 3, 5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 21 Sg, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 11, 12 Ng, 1 Na.

[25] №№ 5, 8, 22 Sg, 13 Ng and 2 Sa.

[26] №№ 9, 10, 17, 18 Sg and 8 Ng.

[27] №№ 1 Wg, 4, 7, 9, 10, 17, 18, 19, 20 Sg, 2, 8, 15 Ng, 2 Na, 1 and 3 Sa.

[28] №№ 6, 20 Sg and 11 Ng.

[29] №№ 6, 21 Sg, 11 (above the rudder!), 9, 20, and 12 Ng.

[30] V. Dygalo, Otkuda i čto na flote pošlo, Moskva, 2000, 108; Gluzman 2020: 301.

[31] Flags at Sea 1974: 55; Dygalo, Otkuda i čto na flote pošlo, 121.

[32] A. Basov, Istorija voenno-morskih flagov, Sankt-Peterburg, 2003, 35-36. Срв. V. Mondfelʹd, Galery ot srednevekovʹja do novogo vremeni, Perevod s nemec. A. Čebana, Moskva - Sankt-Peterburg, 2000, 107; R. Gluzman, What Made a Ship Venetian? (Thirteenth to Sixteenth Centuries), in: Cultures of Empire: Rethinking Venetian Rule, 1400-1700: Essays in Honour of Benjamin Arbel, G. Christ & Fr.-J. Morche (eds.), Leiden, 2020, 299 and n. 4.

[33] №№ 19, 20, 21 Sg and 12 Ng.

[34] №№ 3.3, 4.2, 6, 13, 20 Sg, 2, 8, 9, 11, 15 Ng, 2 Na, 1 and 3 Sa.

[35] №№ 3.1, 4.1 and 21 Sg.

[36] Cog - №№ 7, 12 Sg and 7 Ng, cocha - №№ 7 Sg, 4, 5, 6 Ng.

[37] №№ 1 Wg, 3.2, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19 Sg and 1 Na.

[38] L. Mott, Medieval Ship Graffito in the Palau Reial Major at Barcelona, The Mariner’s Mirror 76/1 (1990) 20.

[39] M. Pedani, Ottoman Ships and Venetian Craftsmenin the 16th Century, in: Seapower, Technology and Trade. Studies in Turkish Maritime History, D. Couto, F. Gunergun, M. Pia Pedani (eds.), Istanbul, 2014, 460-464; Миков 2017: 476. For the development of the Ottoman fleet, for example, see A. Güleryüz, Kadırgadan Kalyona Osmanlıda Yelken: Mikyas-ı Sefain, Istanbul, 2005: 17-20; Y. Aydın, Sultanın Kalyonları: Osmanlı Donanmasının Yelkenli Savaş Gemileri (1701-1770), Istanlul, 2011.

[40] Pedani, Ottoman Ships, 460-461.

[41] J. Muscat, Graffiti on the Exterior Wall of St. Paul’s Shipwreck Church, Melita Historica 12 (1997) 184. Cf. also J. Cassar & J. Muscat, Report on the Graffiti found in the Old Prisons of the Gozo Citadel, Museums Department Malta, 1989, part II, 1.

[42] №№ 1 and 2 Sg, 1 and 14 Ng.

[43] №№ 9 and 15 Ng and 1 Sa.

[44] №№ 3.1 and 3.3, 4.1 and 4.2, 6, 20, 21 Sg, 2 and 11 Ng.

[45] №№ 9 Sg, 8, 9 15 Ng and 1 Sa.

[46] №№ 16, 18, 19 Sg and 1 Na.

[47] №№ 7, 12, 15, 21 Sg, 4, 6, 7, 12 Ng and 1 Na.

[48] №№ 14 Sg and 5 Ng.

[49] №№ 3.1 Sg and 4.1 Sg.

[50] № 3 Ng.

[51] №№ 6, 13, 21 Sg, 11 Ng.

[52] №№ 2 Ng and 15 Ng.

[53] №№ 6 Sg, 8 and 11 Ng.

[54] №№ 20 Sg, 2 Ng.

[55] №№ 9 Sg, 9 and 15 Ng and 1 Sa.

[56] №№ 12 and 16 Sg, 4 and 6 Ng.

[57] №№ 1 Wg, 3.2, 7, 15 Sg, 12 Ng.

[58] №№ 1 Wg, 18 Sg and 1 Na.

[59] N. Necipoğlu, The Byzantine Economy and the Sea: The Maritime Trade of Byzantium, 10th-15th Centuries, - in: The Sea in History. 2. The Medieval World, Chr. Buchet, M. Ballard (eds.) Boydell & Brewer, 2017.

[60] The most important colonies of Venice are in Crete, Coron, Modon, Euboea/Negroponte and Tana, while those of Genoa include Chios, Old and New Foca, Kafa and Kilia. For this, see M. Balard, La Romanie Génoise (XIIe – debut du XVe siècles), Tome II, Genova-Rome, 1978; Fr. Thiriet, La Romanie vénitienne au Moyen Âge. Le développement et l’exploitation du domaine colonial vénitien (XIIe-XVe siècles), Paris 1975 (2ed.); J. Chrysostomıdes, Venetian Commercial Privileges Under the Palaeologi, Studi Veneziani 12 (1970) 267-356; M. Balard, L’organisation des colonies étrangères dans l’empire byzantin (XIIe-XVe siècles)’, - in: Hommes et richesses, vol. II, V. Kravarı, J. Lefort & C. Morrisson (eds.), Paris, 1991, 261-276; N. Oikonomıdès, Hommes d’affaires grecs et latins à Constantinople (XIIIe-XVe siècles), Montreal-Paris, 1979.

[61] Necipoğlu, The Byzantine Economy and the Sea, 443-444.

[62] Necipoğlu, The Byzantine Economy and the Sea, 445.

[63] A. Laiou-Thomadakis, The Byzantine Economy in the Mediterranean trade System, Thirteenth-Fifteenth Centuries, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 34-35 (1982) 177-222; A. Laiou, C. Morrisson, The Byzantine Economy, Cambridge, 2007, 200-207.

[64] Fr. Lane, Venice: A Maritime Republic, Baltimore, 1973, 122-123; J. Pryor,  The Mediterranean Round Ship, - in: Cogs, Caravels, and Galleons: The Sailing Ship 1000 - 1650, (Conway’s History of the Ship), R. Gardiner & R. Unger (eds.), New Jersey, 1994, 56-76; T. Runyan, The Cog as Warship, in: Cogs, Caravels, and Galleons: The Sailing Ship 1000 - 1650, (Conway’s History of the Ship), R. Gardiner & R. Unger (eds.), New Jersey. 1994, 50.

[65] R. Unger, The Ship in the Medieval Economy, 600-1600, Montreal, 1980, 216; Fr. Gay, C. Ciano, The Ships of Christopher Columbus, Lucio Bertolazzi and Luciano F. Farina (transl.), Rome, 1996: 63; F. Castro, A Quantitative Look at Mediterranean Lateen- and Square-Rigged Ships (Part 1), The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 37/2 (2008) 347–359. The first producer of carracks was Genoa, and a little later – Venice and Spain, while in north Europe the carrack penetrated towards the end of the 15th century. For this, see I. Friel, The Carrack: The Advent of the Full Rigged Ship, - in: Cogs, Caravels, and Galleons:The Sailing Ship 1000 - 1650, (Conway’s History of the Ship), R. Gardiner & R. Unger (eds.), New Jersey, 1994, 85; D. Zwick, Bayonese Cogs, Genoese Carracks, English Dromons and Iberian Carvels: Tracing Technology Transfer in Medieval Atlantic Shipbuilding, Itsas Memoria, Revista de Estudios Marítimos del País Vasco 8 (2016) 659.

[66] M. Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy, c. 300-1450, Cambridge, 1985, 555–559; A. Laiou, Byzantine Traders and Seafarers, - in: The Greeks and the Sea, S. Vryonıs Jr. (ed.), New Rochelle, New York, 1993, 80; M. McCormıck, Origins of the European Economy. Communications and Commerce, A.D. 300-900, Cambridge, 2001, 83-87.

[67] See, for example, the compositional solutions in the graffiti drawings from the Shahabedin Imaret Mosque at Plovdiv (middle of the 15th century) in N. Ovčarov, Risunkite-grafiti ot „Imaret džamija” v Plovdiv kato izvor za istorijata na Sedizemnomorieto prez XV v., - v: Razkopki i proučvanija, kn. 18, Sofija, 1987, 76, Pl. III, no. 5 and 7; Pl. IV, no. 8; Pl. V, no. 16; Pl. VI, no. 19, 22; Pl. VII, no. 26; Pl. VIII, no. 30 etc.

[68] №№ 1 Wg, 11 and 15 Sg, 4, 8 and 12 Ng.

[69] №№ 20 Sg and 9 Ng.

[70] For example, the bird’s eye view of Constantinople by the Florentine Cristoforo Buondelmonti. For this, see I. Manners, Constructing the Image of a City: The Representation of Constantinopole in Christopher Buondelmonti’s Liber Insularum Archipelagi, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 87/1 (1997) 76, Fig. 2 (ca. 1480), 78, Fig. 3 (ca. 1470?), 79, Fig. 4 (ca. 1470), 80, Fig. 5 (ca. 1475?), 82, Fig. 6 (1430), 84, Fig. 7 (1465) 93, Fig. 9 (1572).

[71] For these key features, see M. Champion, Ship graffiti in East Anglian Churches: A Reflection of Maritime Interventions? - in: Six Essays in Hanseatic History; the Proceedings of the Hansa Symposium 2015, P. Richards (ed.), Cromer, 2017, 58-59.