A Brief Historical Excursus: Saint George Between History and Legend

The image of Saint George is far older than any sculptural interpretations known to us today. His cult began to take shape as early as the 4th–5th centuries, while the legend of his victory over the Dragon crystallized within the Eastern Christian and Byzantine traditions, later spreading widely throughout Europe. At its core lies the story of a city delivered from a monstrous creature that demanded human sacrifices — a motif reaching deep into ancient and even pre-ancient mythological layers.

The historical George, according to early sources, was not a fairy-tale knight, but a Roman military officer of the 3rd century — a chiliarch, a commander of a large unit. This was the period of the late Roman Empire, an era marked by crisis, warfare, and profound religious transformation. In terms of social standing, George was a powerful and affluent individual: a high-ranking officer, a landowner, and a representative of the imperial elite. This understanding became a key foundation in shaping his image.

The Problem of Canon and the Search for Historical Credibility

Canonical depictions of Saint George, particularly in iconography, are highly symbolic in nature. The Dragon is often rendered as a schematic, almost worm-like creature beneath the hooves of George’s horse — hardly a convincing threat. In such compositions, the feat itself is reduced to a symbolic gesture, a visual shorthand for the victory of good over evil.

Later stylistic interpretations — from Gothic to Baroque and Romanticism — amplify decorative elements, yet remain distant from historical and physical plausibility. This led us to a fundamental decision: while remaining faithful to the canonical narrative, we sought to reconstruct it as realistically as possible, taking into account historical context, weaponry, combat dynamics, and the psychology of a man facing death.

The Image of Saint George: A Roman Commander and a Christian

In shaping Saint George, we sought to portray him as a mounted warrior of the late Roman era. This is not an abstract “knight,” but a professional soldier of the 3rd century — a man accustomed to warfare, discipline, and command. His appearance deliberately combines classical Roman forms with early Christian symbolism, reflecting a time when Christian imagery had not yet displaced the ancient tradition, but coexisted with it.

George’s helmet is adorned with ornamentation depicting scenes of lion hunting — a motif widely used in Roman decorative art, symbolizing strength, valor, and victory over chaos. Similar imagery appears on the scabbard and hilt of his sword, the spatha, as well as on his dagger, the pugio. The lion here functions as a universal symbol of power and martial prowess, intelligible to both pagan and early Christian worldviews.

The belt ornaments and horse tack are intentionally neutral, strictly geometric in character, evoking military utilitarianism. In contrast, the greaves protecting George’s calves carry explicitly Christian symbolism: a boat, a dove with an olive branch, and a fish bearing the encoded Greek name of Christ. These signs communicate George’s faith without overt declaration.

A special place is given to the chi-rho (chrismon), one of the earliest monograms of Christ’s name, combined here with angelic wings. This motif also appears in the decoration of the spatha, alongside the lion imagery, emphasizing the transitional nature of the era.

Cloak, Word, and Spear

Saint George’s cloak forms yet another layer of symbolic synthesis. Its ornamentation merges Roman and even ancient Greek motifs: the wings of Victoria and the lightning bolts of Jupiter — symbols of victory and divine authority. Alongside them appears a Latin inscription quoting Psalm 22:
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

The spear deserves particular attention. Historically, 3rd-century spears featured classical teardrop-shaped heads. In this case, however, we deliberately depart from strict canon and recreate a form associated with one of the known variants of the so-called “Spear of Destiny,” believed by tradition to have pierced Christ’s body after the Crucifixion. The spearhead bears a Latin inscription:
“Non nobis Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam” —
“Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to Your name give glory.”

Thus, the weapon becomes not merely an instrument of combat, but a bearer of theological meaning.

The Dragon as a True Embodiment of Evil

The most radical transformation concerns the Dragon itself. Unlike canonical icons, where it often appears almost harmless, here it becomes a fully realized, formidable dragon — massive, winged, and lethally dangerous. In both versions of the legend, George slays a creature that terrorized an entire city and demanded human sacrifices. In this context, the Dragon must be a threat commensurate with the hero who confronts it.

Our dragon possesses a horned head, powerful claws, and enormous wings capable of lifting not only its victim, but rider and horse alike. This is a creature that cannot be defeated casually or symbolically. In this reading, Saint George’s feat regains its true weight and tragic gravity.

Spatial Solution and Dramaturgy of Form

The composition deliberately breaks with classical containment. The base is intentionally narrowed, while the Dragon’s body pushes beyond its limits. Its wings envelop the composition from both sides, threatening the rider with sharp spines. One claw is embedded in the horse’s flank, threatening to topple it, while the other grips the edge of the base itself — as if Evil were constantly striving to break beyond its imposed boundaries.

The Dragon’s powerful tail thrusts backward, its spine already arched away from the base — another instant, and it will spring upward to strike George. Only the crushing hooves of the hero’s horse pin the creature down, holding it in this final, decisive moment.