Athens Part 2- An Archaelogical Reflection

It’s hard to not be fascinated by the society that was the birthplace of democracy, but I was still shocked to find that just a few days of Athens and its sites completely shook my world.

As my friend joked while we were there, we largely spent most of our time staring at old rock. It’s a fair assessment- a great portion of Athens is really just some very impressive old rock when you boil it down to it. Despite the quantity though, I found myself absolutely captivated by each and every little bit of stone— each piece told a story of somebody or something, just thousands of years in the past.

We bought Athens Hellenic-Heritage combo passes before arriving, which gave us access to the Parthenon, the rest of the acropolis, the Agora, the Roman Agora, Hadrian’s Library, Keremeikos Cemetery, and a couple other sites for the price of 30 euros. It was definitely worth it, so I highly recommend getting it if you ever plan on going to Athens. We also got separate tickets to the Acropolis Museum and the National Archaeological museum, which both contained many sculptures and relics from the sites themselves that we visited.

I felt a strong sense of rightness that I was starting my art history journey here, in a place whose artistic ideals and archaelogical innovations largely set the standard for the world of Western art/architecture. It was with the Athenians where my study of art history in my AP class essentially started, discounting the prehistoric works (Camelid sacrum, running horned woman… other favorites of mine). Athens lived up to and surpassed any expectations I had. Studying these works online halfway across the world already fills you with a sense of complete amazement that humans 3000 years ago carved these sculptures and made these monuments, but seeing it in person is an entirely different beast. It almost doesn’t feel real— you can’t really get it through your head that you’re looking at something that has been looked at and appreciated for thousands of years, partially because it feels so familiar, so lifelike. I think that sense originates in the presence of Classical architecture and ideals in modern society— the Greeks created the definition of a lasting influence.

When we first walked out of the train station after a particularly difficult journey from the airport, we turned the corner and all of a sudden the Parthenon and Acropolis were rising above us. I know I’ve said this many times at this point, but there was nothing quite like that feeling. Its magnitude is multiplied by how it rises above the whole city. When I think of ruins, I think of something sitting low in the ground— something to peer down at, barely excavated, buried by centuries of modern growth. The Parthenon is anything but. It stands triumphantly, despite the test of time (and the efforts of the Persians).

When we visited more closely the next day, I could hear the favorite phrase of art historians in my head: “you know, they say there are no straight lines in the parthenon…” Now I can’t really verify this as there was no room for a ruler in my backpack (AKA my livelihood) and tourists were kept at a certain distance from the structure. However, that being said, I’m still amazed at the proximity we were allowed to everything on the Acropolis; and many of the other sites too. If I reached out, I could likely touch some of the columns and feel whatever 2,500 year old stone feels like (but I didn’t for obvious reasons). That made the experience feel all the more surreal.

My friends and I particularly enjoyed the Caryatids of Erechtheion, pictured below. We joked that they were like us, though the Caryatids were supporting much more weight than the four of us on our stress-free gap years. We felt somewhat scammed to find out in the Acropolis museum that we had just seen replicas in the Acropolis, and the actual figures were stored in the museum— though once we thought critically about it, it did make a lot of sense. This relates to something that I’m hoping to research more about: how archaeologists have balanced the desire to leave things as they are for historical realness, versus intervening for the sake of ultimate preservation. I’m particularly interested in thinking more about this in relation to making sites open to tourists, educators, and learners— to what extent should we go to make learning about art history accessible? Should it ever come at the expense of the artworks, or the sites themselves? I can only imagine that keeping the Parthenon and the Acropolis preserved would be a lot easier without thousands of tourists marching through them daily. Then again, I got so much out of the experience, and am so glad that I could. But should I have been allowed to?

I was also thinking about this in other sites where I got to be even closer. In the less significant (but still impressively old) places like Hadrian’s Library and Keremeikos cemetery, I felt even fewer restrictions. In Keremeikos, I was literally walking alone through gravestones thousands of years old, lingering along walls from the time and appreciating the unkemptness of it all. Here are a few pictures below.

My shock at this did fade though when I visited the National Archaeological Museum, and realized that much of the graveyard had been taken out and put right there for me to view from a very controlled environment. In very tiny script, I could see underneath so many statues that they were originally found in Keremeikos. This was just really cool to know that I had probably walked across where these exact statues were found, particularly for the Grave Stele of Hegoso!! This is one of the pieces I studied in AP Art History and loved, so I was delighted to get to see it in person and realize that I had unknowingly already visited where it originally came from.

My true fan girl came out though back at the Acropolis Museum, when I got to see Nike Fixing her Sandal. My friends thought I was somewhat crazy for how excited I was to see her, but I have no regrets. She was in my top 5 favorite artworks from APAH probably, which is very high praise. I texted my friends from the class and they were very jealous— we were semi-obsessed with this piece. I’m not sure I could really give you a concrete reason why, if you’re wondering. We originally got attached though because of a video we watched by an art historian that we found quite funny. In it, he described this Nike as “supremely sexual” with the “lines sloping between her legs” being a very important symbol (or arrow). We found this mildly ridiculous as she was really just putting on a sandal, though it is true the artist spared no detail in making the clothes cling to her body. All in all, it really is just a magnificent display of sculptural ability. See below!

I think I’ve maybe gone on for a bit too long now, but I hope I’ve captured the pure sense of wonder I felt throughout my time in Athens viewing this art. I can definitely see why the Romans were obsessed with them— as I said at the beginning, it’s impossible to not be. I’m excited to move on to Rome and Florence soon, where I can see how these same art ideals outlined the artistic and architectural styles of the Romans as well.

More soon!

Emmaline

Here are some extra photos below :)