ὣς οἵ γ' ἀμφίεπον τάφον Ἕκτορος ἱπποδάμοιο.
Thus was the death of Hector, breaker of horses.
I'm sitting (hardwood) in front of my very favorite thing: the Nerides. I still remember the visceral shock of my first visit, when I looked at the statue and absently wondered how they carved the body first and then the stone gown over it.
No. All together. But I can still forget that when I stand and look.
It's as though the artist worked with flesh and fabric, not marble.
It's as though the artist worked with flesh and fabric, not marble.
The only rival for these statues is the Winged Victory, standing magnificently at the Daru Staircase in the Louvre.
"The art historian H.W. Janson has pointed out[1] that unlike earlier Greek or Near Eastern sculptures, Nike creates a deliberate relationship to the imaginary space around the goddess. The wind that has carried her and which she is fighting off, straining to keep steady – as mentioned the original mounting had her standing on a ship's prow, just having landed – is the invisible complement of the figure and the viewer is made to imagine it."
"The art historian H.W. Janson has pointed out[1] that unlike earlier Greek or Near Eastern sculptures, Nike creates a deliberate relationship to the imaginary space around the goddess. The wind that has carried her and which she is fighting off, straining to keep steady – as mentioned the original mounting had her standing on a ship's prow, just having landed – is the invisible complement of the figure and the viewer is made to imagine it."
News Flash! the entrance to the gallery now says "The Parthenon Marbles," not "The Elgin Marbles."
Dull is the eye that will not weep to see Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed By British hands, which it had best behoved To guard those relics ne'er to be restored. Curst be the hour when from their isle they roved, And once again thy hapless bosom gored, And snatch'd thy shrinking gods to northern climes abhorred! George Gordon, Lord Byron "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" | Now in the room of the Parthenon Marbles -- called by Brits (until very recently)The Elgin Marbles, for the guy who stole them, I'm on a bench -- marble, appropriately -- in front of my very favorite part, the cavalcade of the horses. Look at the detail! Not just the hooves and manes, but sinews and blood vessels. The Greeks -- that sea-surrounded, boat-oriented people, practically worshiped horses. Remember, "breaker of horses" was Hector's epithet; it was seen as the most civilized of human interactions with nature -- subduing the horse to man's (yes, sadly) will. But these are willful horses -- perhaps it's a gesture of respect to show them barely controlled. Or a reminder not to take things for granted. |
The last line of the Iliad? Not Achilles nor yet Agamemnon, and certainly not that fake horse. No Greeks at all:
And thus was the death of Hector, breaker of horses.
I've gone to go online for some pictures of the Duveen Gallery. There are 17-millon people here. When I walked in this morning Iwondered if there were some sort of special occasion, but then I realized that I never go to the museum in the summer, not even when the library was here. My mental pictures are all from December and January -- from prepping for, then trailing around with clumps of students. I always bring them here first, to the Greek vases for the Keats recitation, past the Nereids, and then here, with Keats' less-famous poem, to think about the politics and ethics of art and how that art is used.
And thus was the death of Hector, breaker of horses.
I've gone to go online for some pictures of the Duveen Gallery. There are 17-millon people here. When I walked in this morning Iwondered if there were some sort of special occasion, but then I realized that I never go to the museum in the summer, not even when the library was here. My mental pictures are all from December and January -- from prepping for, then trailing around with clumps of students. I always bring them here first, to the Greek vases for the Keats recitation, past the Nereids, and then here, with Keats' less-famous poem, to think about the politics and ethics of art and how that art is used.
Carved to stand in a space where no human eye could appreciate their detail -- like the statues on top of Notre Dame and and Amiens -- they were created to look out over a sun-baked city, across dry, golden-white stone down to the blue of the Aegean. Now they have been swallowed by the grey eminence of the British Museum, consumed by Empire and held captive in a space perfectly calibrated to their original home, only facing inward, facing grey marble in a grey city.
Yes, I was once a fierce advocate for repatriation.
And then I went to Greece.
The grubbiness of Greek museums cannot be overstated. Maybe, like the public transit system, they got a facelift for the Olympics, but that was nearly a decade ago. If these marbles had stayed in Greece, they would no longer exist.
And, let us not forget, they owe their very creation to bald-faced theft: Pericles took the treasury of the Delian League to finance building the Parthenon in 454 BCE.
And then I went to Greece.
The grubbiness of Greek museums cannot be overstated. Maybe, like the public transit system, they got a facelift for the Olympics, but that was nearly a decade ago. If these marbles had stayed in Greece, they would no longer exist.
And, let us not forget, they owe their very creation to bald-faced theft: Pericles took the treasury of the Delian League to finance building the Parthenon in 454 BCE.