With the end of my final university semester imminent, it was with little hesitation that I caught the sleeper train 3 days post-dissertation hand in and woke up in Euston station; purposely close to the British Museum. Having joined the the Museums Association and arriving early in the city, the main destination of our journey was to make it to the new Life and death in Pompeii and Herculaneum exhibition, already sold out for entire first month (I’d recommend queuing for on-the-day tickets at 9am), and lauded with numerous 5-star reviews, our high expectations weren’t disappointed. 

Arranged around the conceived form of a wealthier villa, each of the items occupy their original space, as you move gradually through the atrium, split off into a cubiculum, and stroll through the hortus, exploring other rooms and their functions in the process. Recently completing a semester’s course in Roman Interior Design, it was certainly satisfying to recognise with fresh interest particular features. 

Distinguishing the styles and themes of the wall paintings might have instilled me with a little confidence for the upcoming exam, however I wasn’t quite prepared for the disconcertingly moving objects; a carbonised cradle, personal treasure hoards desperately assembled in the face of certain destruction, and the bleakest and most recognisable relics of the volcano-stricken towns, the casts of the victims. Placed near the end of the exhibition as a sobering reminder of the fate of the various owners of the objects, it was a poignant ending to an exhibition which was appreciative of the invaluable insight Pompeii and Herculaneum offer us, and simultaneously quick to highlight tragic origins. 

Set to travel back up north 2 days later, I had a chance to return the museum and revisit my personal highlights. The next time I make the trip down to London, there are full sections of the BM floor plan I’ve yet to explore in detail, but the areas I always aim to see…

Caryatid from the Erechtheion 

 ”Do you know why these ladies look sad? It is because they are crying for their sister, all alone in London.”

As related to me by a gallery assistant at the Akropolis Museum in Athens last year, I was anticipating visiting the ‘lonely sister’ with a new feeling of wistfulness…and now have seen the other five Erechtheion caryatids in their home city, she certainly does strike a rather sad chord. That said, the beautifully carved peplos and braided hair are features that can really only be appreciated on this caryatid thanks to her preservation. Although her companions, who remained up on the Akropolis for years after Lord Elgin removed this singular column, have suffered substantial weathering, an ongoing restoration project (http://optics.org/news/2/3/8) is under way in the Akropolis museum itself, using a customised laser system to remove thick layers of pollution.

Ancient Iran (Room 52)

3000 BC - AD 651 is a vast time span of history to cover for an equally vast geographical area; the Persian Empire alone at it’s height reaching Egypt in the west and India in the east. Encountering Ancient Iran for the past two years in honours classes, the country is high on my list of graduate-life destinations (alongside Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, Turkey…) and during a university class visit towards the end of last year, we were fortunate to be guided around this particular room by senior curator for the pre-Islamic collections from Iran and Arabia, Dr St John Simpson. For a relatively small gallery, the scope of objects on display here is incredible, immediately evident as you face the Cyrus Cylinder (above, top right) upon entry.

So commonly misreferred as the ‘first charter of human rights’, this clay foundation cylinder is entirely in-keeping with the traditional practice of the region, of stating reforms and announcing justification for self-declared rule; an excellent early example of the Achaemenid practice of appropriating local traditions for self-promoting purposes. That Cyrus the Great ever primarily intended for his policies to favour those disposed by previous ‘aggressive’ regimes, or whether the claim that he ‘collected together all of their people and returned them to their settlements’ (CB 32) refers to good-willed widespread repatriation is questionable. Similarly the claim that he entered Babylon ‘without fighting or battle’ (CB 17) is almost certainly pure propaganda. Rightly stripped of this reputation as a human rights document, the Cyrus Cylinder stands alone as one of the most engrossing objects I have studied across my undergraduate degree. A first hand account of the vices of Persian propaganda employed by Cyrus, continued on the greatest scale by Darius I, and an insight into the Persian ideals of ‘good kingship’, it’s been interesting to study how this legitimising process of Persian kings developed in the following decades as far apart as Egypt and Mount Behistun.

The glazed brick relief panel from Susa (above left) and the gold griffon headed armlet from the Oxus treasure (above, bottom right) are 2 of an abundance of artefacts from this gallery that narrate the diversity of cultures that existed in Ancient Iran, as well as attesting to fine craftsmanship utilised by the Achaemenid kings. Until I make the visit to Persepolis, the stone reliefs from the Apadana on display here, more than suffice.

The Macmillan aryballos

At just under 7cm high, amplified by a thick magnifying glass, had I not been actively seeking this object out I would almost definitely have not paid the attention it deserves. A closely studied piece in most of the Greek Art courses I have taken, this protocorinthian perfume bottle makes up for size with several minutely detailed friezes depicting 17 hoplites, horse racing and a hare-hunt. Dating from around the mid-seventh century, the Macmillan aryballos undoubtedly reflects a typical piece from Corinth during this period, when the coastal city served as a start and exchange point for foreign and local items. The very nature of the lion head serving as an indication of its Near Eastern influence, or perhaps a note of the foreign contents.

I’m not sure whether it’s the modern novelty of the size of this piece, or the intricate painting detail, but there’s something captivating about the playful variation of a mass produced item; one which also marks the beginning of the black-figure pottery technique across the Greek world.

The Lewis Chessmen

“The Lewis chess pieces you have here, do they have anything to do with wizard chess in Harry Potter?”

Having worked at the National Museum of Scotland for around 9 months now, I am often asked unexpected queries from visitors. With Edinburgh serving as the ‘home’ of Harry Potter, I’ve generally taken the stance of dispelling tourists’ needs to pinpoint the exact locations of inspiration for J.K. Rowling (a cynicism that has developed exponentially since volunteering at Greyfriars Kirk where the older volunteers, so keen to share the church’s immense history, as exasperated by the constant directions to ‘Tom Riddle’s grave’). However, sure that I doubted it and deciding to look it up later, I should have been unsurprised to find that the set used in the films are in fact replicas of this very chess set. Is that commonly known already? Maybe just specifically for HP fans only.

Although I am used to our 11 pieces in Edinburgh, seeing the further 82 pieces reinstates the significance of their enigmatic discovery - the largest single surviving group of objects from the period that were made purely for recreational purposes. Whether their origin is Scottish, Irish, Icelandic or English, the strong Norse influence is testament to the connections between British and Scandinavian cultures of the Middle Ages.

Cycladic Marble Figurine

In 3 weeks and 2 exams’ time I’ll be heading to the island of Keros, a small island in the eastern Cyclades, now entirely uninhabited. Excavations have revealed a sanctuary in the form of broken marble vessels and figurines, dated to around 2750 - 2300 BC, although these objects were almost certainly brought from elsewhere in the Cyclades, deliberately broken, and deposited on the island. A recent publication by Colin Renfrew, Michael Boyd and Christopher Ramsey suggests that this Early Bronze Age site is one of the world’s oldest maritime sanctuaries. The recognition and understanding of the precise acts of pilgrimage are still under question, and I’m extremely excited to be involved in the project this summer.

Past Horizons covers the background of Colin Renfrew’s initial findings on Keros: http://www.pasthorizonspr.com/index.php/archives/06/2011/island-of-broken-figurines-shedding-new-light-on-keros-mystery

The above statue isn’t itself from Keros, but a beautiful example of the stark and abstract figurines that characterise Early Bronze Age Cycladic sculpture. The exact religious and ritual use is as mentioned, yet unknown, but the lasting influence, particularly on modern art, attests to their continuous significance.

In 2010 the annual Chacmool Archaeology conference in Calgary took place, titled ‘Identity Crisis: Archaeological Perspectives on Social Identity,’ highlighting case studies of social identity in the archaeological record. Of course, constructions of identity change and vary depending on different time periods and modern projections, and understanding identities in the past is incredibly problematic. In many cases we are so far removed from social and individual identities, that it is difficult to imagine their existence at all. However by focusing on the larger social context of individuals, the conference paper established that ‘social identity in archaeology…warrants recognition that, although our subjects are dead and long-buried, they were once people with lives, friends, goals and senses of self.’

In 2011, travelling to France for a month to take part in an excavation, I encountered similar issues of identity in the archaeological record. By the third week of digging, anticipation was rife as the deepest layer of the previous year’s trench was levelled out. As the small group I was working alongside were about to stop for the day however, there came the shout that one of the graves we had been searching for had been discovered. This was only my third excavation, and it was by far the biggest; a Roman temple complex built over a Gaul graveyard, roads and temples unforgivingly cutting into what must have once been hallow ground. I knew before I had made the trip to France that we would be dealing with a grave site, but it’s difficult to articulate first contact with a human remains. The timespan between yourself and the period of the site is very suddenly shortened.

As I soon discovered, this particular grave had already been uncovered the previous year, and for reasons I never did find out, the skeleton was already named ‘Hubert.’ I didn’t question the name choice, partly through the language barrier which persisted throughout my journeys in rural France, but also because I merely assumed it was simply easier to have a named individual to refer to. But already we were starting to build an identity for him. Granted it was a nickname, and one that would unlikely be appearing on the excavation publications. However if the step had been taken to give him a name, how much more could we hope to know about him? And beyond the material remains, it was hard to imagine how else an ‘identity’ could be constructed.

                                  Les Vaux-de-la-Celle, 2011

Skeletal analysis would perhaps later reveal rough data regarding details such as age and health. But what of character and individuality? Personal grave goods and artefacts might provide a link to who a person was in their lifetime, and might indicate their social significance within a group or community. This in turn often provides a platform to theorise about identities of a community from which they were part of.  In the archaeological record, it is far more common to determine the social identity of a group or community rather than an individual. Grave goods, artwork, architecture and funerary context all give indication of the values and identity we theorise were held in the past societies, and material culture is often employed to provide an explicit explanation for social identity.

As for Hubert, there was unfortunately very little in the way of artefacts or grave goods, so other evidence would have to be examined if anything of his individuality was to be determined.  Over 1500 years however, it seemed Hubert had been rather displaced from his original burial site and any evidence in the way of personal possessions or indications of social status was incredibly sparse. Until any more work was carried out in the following years, all that could be said for Hubert was the name that had been given to him.

Leaving traces of our identity behind in this century may be inevitable whether intentional or not. Paper trails, web history and material possessions won’t reveal in-depth detail of our personality traits, sense of humour or character, but could certainly be used to build a generally accurate interpretation. In the archaeological record however, despite grave goods and material evidence, or in Hubert’s case lack thereof, in many cases the absence of a wealth of such evidence may mean a ‘lost’ identity may never fully be recaptured, and it’s our own projections that we employ to rebuild their personality once again for a variety of purposes.

In the National Museum of Scotland, the Westness Grave from Orkney is an interesting example regarding the ethics of the display of human remains presented to many University archaeology students. The question which arises is that the skeleton displayed is in relative terms, old; is it acceptable to explicitly show the remains of someone who is now so far removed in antiquity, it is no longer an ethical issue? As their personal identity is now entirely lost, then are the remains categorised as objects rather than an individual? Of course they are still treated and analysed humanely, but the loss of an identity and lack of human connection means displays such as the Westness skeleton could be labelled by some as an artefact itself.

A day after leaving rural France, another grave was uncovered. It was the final day of the excavation and unfortunately time constraints meant the site would be covered over until the following season. It still left enough time however to leave a label for the following year’s workers, indicating they would be dealing with ‘Roxanne.’ Not named after anyone who had been involved in the project, or an association with the site location, but simply because Sting and the Police were played in abundance  Until the site reports for this year are published, that is the current extent of one particular identity.  

The last time I was in Orkney was sadly almost two years ago, and having read over the past couple of weeks increasing reports of this year’s work at the Ness of Brodgar, I have never been more keen to return. 

Previously thought only to be the remnants of a subsiding glacier, archaeologists began work on the surrounding area of the Brodgar stones in 2002, unearthing incredibly unexpected results. A suspected temple complex, the site itself measures roughly six-acres showing evidence of housing, painted slabs (below) and huge wall foundations.

As reported in the Guardian earlier in the month Robin Mckie states: “The complex at Ness contained more than a dozen large temples – one measured almost 25m square – that were linked to outhouses and kitchens by carefully constructed stone pavements. The bones of sacrificed cattle, elegantly made pottery and pieces of painted ceramics lie scattered round the site. The exact purpose of the complex is a mystery, though it is clearly ancient. Some parts were constructed more than 5,000 years ago.”

Long heralded as a site of exceptional Neolithic importance, the strip of land separating the lochs of Harray and Stenness is thought to have first seen human occupation about 6,000 years ago, where farming communities who settled around Orkney began cultivating the land and assembling stone monuments and tombs, many of which are still visible. One of the remaining mysteries however is how, or in what capacity, these religious and ceremonial centres were used. Archaeologists involved in the project recognise that the site would not have been used in any sort of domestic capacity, and the painted walkways and monumental structures certainly attest to something more than living space. However the cremated animals bones, stone tools, decorated slabs, and enigmatic figurines such as the Brodgar boy (http://www.orkneyjar.com/archaeology/nessofbrodgar/the-brodgar-boy/), have not yet revealed any aspect of the religious beliefs of those responsible for the extensive complex.

That this temple complex is so vast points to experienced knowledge of large scale architecture and sophisticated craft, and with the date of the site taken into consideration, the Ness of Brodgar could essentially transform modern understanding of ancient Britain’s Neolithic sites of influence. As the director of the excavations Nick Card told the Guardian, “ Orkney was the centre for innovation for the British isles. Ideas spread from this place.” This line of thought is strongly supported by continuing finds, and in 2008 work on the building known as Structure Ten (below) led Card to announce “What we’ve got here is probably one of the largest, if not the largest, stone-built Neolithic non-funerary structures in Britain.”

Equally fascinating that year following the excavation of Structure Ten, was the possibility that it was built with an alignment to Maeshowe, the Neolithic passage grave remarkably close by. Continuous reports of the excavations on http://orkneyjar.com/ addressed the matter of alignment with the question, “Were the buildings, symbolic of life, facing Maeshowe, a symbolic house of the dead? Or were the alignments a way to tie all the structures together - to highlight, or emphasise, the connections between them?” If they are indeed connected (which seems very probable), local historian Tom Muir’s evaluation that “The whole text book of British archaeology for this period will have to be torn up and rewritten from scratch thanks to this place,” may in fact be called for. 

The preliminary line of thought regarding phases of the site can be found here: http://www.orkneyjar.com/archaeology/nessofbrodgar/phases-of-the-site-a-preliminary-view/ 

Back at the beginning of the year, the BBC produced an hour long documentary focusing solely on the site and the animated impressions of the site are available on Will MacNeil’s site here: http://willmacneil.com/new_site/?p=37

Site blog following each day of excavation: http://www.orkneyjar.com/archaeology/nessofbrodgar/

        “Power without a nation’s confidence is nothing”

Before I arrived at the Catherine the Great exhibiton currently on at the National of Musuem of Scotland until October 21st, I admit to being regrettably uninformed about the longest ruling female leader of Russia. Conjuring images from the incredibly memorable exhibition in 2005, ’Nicholas and Alexandra: The Last Tsar and Tsarina’ (a review of which I found here: http://www.studio-international.co.uk/reports/tsar.asp) I was certainly aware of the vast art works and treasures amassed by the Russian Imperial Family. Yet of Catherine II’s personal collections and direct role in Russian Enlightenment, I was not.

An insightful oportunist from her young teenage years, the German princess Sophie of Anhalt-Zerbst, married into the Russian Imperial Family at the age of sixteen following a long planned dynastic arrangement to Peter of Holstein Gottorp (Peter III) in 1745. As a result of her conversion from Lutheranism to Eastern Orthodoxy, much at the approval of the reigning Empress Elizabeth, Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg was then pronounced Grand Duchess Catherine Alekseyevna of Russia. Stemming from their first meeting, the relationship of Catherine and Peter was bluntly put, in all but a political agreement, disastrous. Of Peter’s childhood Catherine was particularly scathing… 

“…It was then that I heard it said among this assembled family that the young duke was inclined to drink, that his attendants found it difficult to prevent him from getting drunk at meals, that he was restive and hotheaded, did not like his attendants…and that otherwise he showed vivacity, but had a delicate and sickly appearance.”

 - From “Memoirs of the Empress Catherine II” (1859), translated by Markus Cruse and Hilde Hoogenboom (2005)                                

Following the death of Empress Elizabeth in 1761, the young couple were only to reign for less than a year. Isolation from one another and widespread knowledge of separate affairs led to an impending coup, and as a result of the seizure of one of her co-conspirators by her estranged husband in June 1962, Catherine immediately travelled to the Ismailovsky regiment and summoned military support against her husband. Leaving with the regiment to the Semenovsky Barracks in St Petersburg, clergymen, officials and senators awaited to pronounce her Catherine the Empress. Before Peter could gain sufficient support for his expected retaliation, Catherine had mobilized her guards, and led them out towards Peterhof on her horse ‘Brilliant’ (above). At the end of June, Peter was forced to abdicate.

Immersing herself in the study of the Russian history and culture, Catherine also surrounded with artisans, architects, writers, medics and contemporary French philosphers (particular focus on Scots at her court: http://bit.ly/QQIzP2) and the entire Winter Palace served as storage for her personal collection of books, arts and treasures. To summarise her reign, or even the exhibition itself would be a bit ambitious for single blog post, but these were some of my highlights: 

 • Rules for the behaviour of all those entering these doors….

“Catherine the Great created the Small Hermitage in order to escape the rigid court protocol of the Winter Palace. She wrote rules of behaviour for her Hermitage guests, which were displayed in the gallery connecting the Winter Palace to the Small Hermitage. Breaking the rules meant a culprit had to drink a glass of cold water, recite lines from a poem or learn a verse by heart.” - NMS

For the rules themselves I will leave to the exhibition, but I personally enjoyed #7 “Do not sigh or yawn, neither bore nor fatigue others.” Well, either that or her requirement that one does not “gnaw at anything.”

• Josiah Wedgewood Frog Service

“The ‘Frog Service’ was a 50-person set intended for dinner and dessert. Catherine the Great bought it for her Gothic summer palace built in a frog marsh some miles outside St Petersburg - hence the inclusion of the frog motif. The service was painted with a total of 1222 views of British landscapes, antiquities and gardens. It cost £2,290 and was intended for occasional use, not for display alone.” V & A Collections page

Aside from the fact there were a number of pieces with Scottish landscapes, every piece included the unusual tiny green frog.

• Winter Carnival Sledge              

“A carnival sledge that was used during winter carnival celebrations in the 1770s… decorated with a Roman soldier on a gilded horse fleeing from a griffin, whose head forms the front of the seat. Presented in front of a panoramic illustration of the winter carnival scene.” - Scotsman Art Review

Slightly terrifyingly the slide seen in the background was reconstructed every year from ice and wood…

Unfortunately I don’t have images of the ornate Hannibal-themed watch or over life-size bust of Athena, but they certainly indicate the scope of her collections.

                                       ***************

This is the best review I came across of the exhibition, which aslo serves as a reminder that whilst her attitudes and actions oversaw cultivation of Russian arts, literature and science, her policies and causes did little to serve the lowest classes and unprivileged.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/art-reviews/9488455/Catherine-the-Great-An-Enlightened-Empress-National-Museum-of-Scotland-review.html

Interesting interactive map from the Guardian (where else?), highlighting just a few of the thousands of individuals affected by the debt crisis: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/interactive/2012/mar/13/greece-on-breadline-journey-interactive?CMP=twt_gu

Particularly poignant having been there so recently, but also perhaps unusually strengthening my thoughts about going back there this summer…

Image: Guardian.co.uk

It would be fair to assume Athens has experienced a lull in tourist numbers over the tumultuous past few weeks. Thousands of demonstrators,  buildings in flames, clouds of tear gas and a generous dose of riot police amidst the recent chaos in Syntagma Sqaure have rather obviously left the city in a most unfavourable light and from the images of anger and uncertainty that have been dominating the peoples response to the Eurozone Crisis in Greece, I was fairly apprehensive about landing in the capital 3 weeks ago.

The sight we were greeted with leaving the airport bus was therefore surprising as we made our way through the calm city centre, the same one I’d seen swarming with rioters on the news only a day earlier. That is not to say they hadn’t left their mark: charcoaled patches and copious amounts of graffiti were immediately visible, but for the trouble I was expecting, it was clear we had been seeing the most concentrated and violent images of the unrest. Still weary, but relieved not to have landed in the centre of protests, it certainly left us slightly more relaxed about the weekend ahead.

With only a year left ahead of me in an Ancient History and Classical Archaeology degree, ancient Athenian art, politics and literature has obviously been one of the most crucial and influential areas of study and having now spent 4 days in the city, experiencing as much as possible (is there such a thing as archaeological site overload?), it was slightly unreal at first to feel the hugely increased significance of everything in its original context. Pages of pottery, statues, inscriptions, temples…suddenly became tangible objects in their country of origin. If there was ever a time to feel as though there was still plenty I didn’t yet know about Classical Greece, it was most definitely right then.

Commanding the attention of the extremely varied Athenian skyline, there was only one obvious place to begin an acquaintance with the Athens of the past, and following a night of pre-Lent celebrations (ouzo, grilled meat and some intense bouzouki playing) culture immersion was already under way, and I felt ready for my first visit the Acropolis. Whether it was the direct effect on tourism following the unpredictable scale of the protests, or perhaps just a fortunate choice of year, it felt as though we had the South slope of the Acropolis to ourselves to explore. Beginning at the Theatre of Dionysus Eleuthereus (below), aside from ourselves there were also several reconstruction workers moving marble slabs around the audience stands. Only three years ago, Greek authorities agreed to fund a project costing six million euros to partially restore the theatre, due to be completed in 2015. Only a small section remains today but the theatre originally would have held around 15,000, and although the new capacity will be significantly lower, several tiers will be added with a combination of new stone and recovered ancient fragments.

We worked our way past the Stoa of Eumenes and the Asklepieion before arriving at the incredibly partially reconstructed and still employed Odeon of Herodes Atticus (below). Completed in 161 AD for the Athenian Herodes Atticus who dedicated it to his wife Aspasia Annia Regilla, the Odeon could have held some 5,000 spectators in antiquity and connected to the Eumenes Stoa, it was originally roofed, mostly hosting musical festivals. Burnt down in 267, the building was never reconstructed, and by the fourteenth century it was apparently  buried so deeply that an Italian traveller identified it as a bridge. Restored in 1953, public concerts, opera and theatre take place throughout the year on the chequered floors and new marble seats. Bizarrely, it was also host to the Miss Universe 1973 contest.

Moving upwards and towards the Western modern entrance through the Propylaea, which although surviving for a longer period of time than its counterparts on the Acropolis, endured the most damage in  1656 by an explosion of a powder magazine, and since then has only partially been reconstructed. From here though I was granted my first full view across the Agora and out towards the coastline, and was immediately struck by the size of the city. With a current population of around 4 million, apartment blocks and huge buildings are spread across the entire plain and begin creeping up the bases of the surrounding mountains. Even centuries before the Parthenon construction period, it was difficult to grasp just how inescapable and attention grabbing this mound must have been on the landscape. With coastline visible to the East and West, what was clear to understand however, was the sense of patriotism so visible in artistic representations, that Athenians must have felt looking out onto this vast valley of land from coast to coast.

Rather than individually summarise each area of the top of the Acropolis (so this post does not run on for pages!), I’ll save that for a separate log entry. So a brief visit in photos…

Entering through the Propylon

The Erechtheion

The caryatids looking Westward

The sacred olive tree serving as a reminder the the victorious gift from Athena in the contest for patron of the city.

The North side of the Parthenon

The remains of the East pediment of the Parthenon

Looking South East towards the temple of Olympian Zeus

Viewing the colossus remains of the temple of Olympian Zeus from the summit of the Acropolis, we set off the following afternoon to explore these incredible ruins now engulfed by the modern city. Begun in the sixth century BC, the temple was not completed for over 600 years, and yet upon completion in the Roman occupation, it was still considered the largest temple in Greece. Finished in the reign of Hadrian, his arch (below) stands on the periphery of the temple grounds and it has been proposed that it’s purpose was to commemorate and honour Hadrian’s contributions to the city including the dedication of the close temple (it is thought that next to the cult statue of Zeus, also stood a huge cult statue of Hadrian). However another suggestion points to the arch signifying the boundaries of “old” and “new” Athens, with two inscriptions on both sides; one reading “this is Athens, the ancient city of Theseus”, and on the other side “this is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus.” Or as scholar Alison Adams suggests, perhaps rather than dividing the city into two, is was a representation of a re-founding of the entire city?

To condense this entire trip, although just an extended weekend, into a single tumblr post has already proven an impossible task. The acropolis itself contains such a significant and rich history that even only a fraction can be conveyed in the new Acropolis museum (…that need not be reference to Lord Elgin).

Within the context of current situation in Athens and the general feeling of the locals we had the opportunity to speak with, the preservation and maintenance of these sites is more than ever vitally important. It may have to been to our advantage that we were able to explore many of the huge attractions without the queues and business to be expected, but for the city, and in fact the entire country’s sake, the reliance upon tourist income has never been so essential. And I will most definitely be returning to contribute further…

Visited in antiquity by Strabo, Aelian and Pausanias, the site of Helike which infamously ‘sank’ in 373 BC was thought to be lost to legend, until 2001 when it was rediscovered not underwater as alluded to by ancient literature, but buried inland in a former lagoon. Following an earthquake and resulting tsunami, Helike became completely submerged, and the natural catastrophe was attributed to the revenge of Poseidon, following the city’s refusal to give colonists in Asia their cult statue of him. Sunk in what Eratosthenes described as a “poros”, this was interpreted for years to mean the Gulf of Corinth. However due to the work of Dora Katsonopoulou and Steven Soter, the possibility was introduced that this could in fact have meant an inland lagoon created by an enormous tsunami. No lagoon in this area survives to this day, but careful study of the geography of the region and a magnetometer survey undertaken in the delta area near the Corinthian Gulf coast led to the discovery of building outlines, roughly two miles inland from the coast itself. Dated by coins and pottery, there is still years of work to be carried out at the site to truly understand the extent of the city that had such a significant impact until the 4th century BC. Also rather interestingly, as an article in the Independent in 2005 outlined, the submergence of Helike may have inspired Pluto’s Atlantis tale:

“Near the Gulf of Corinth, the ancient city of Helike fits the Atlantis profile as it was a flourishing city struck down in its prime by an earthquake in 373BC. The city state was the centre of a cult of Poseidon, second only in importance to the Oracle at Delphi. Generations of fishermen in the Gulf have told of snagging their nets on statues of, an apparently wrathful, Poseidon.”

Fascinatingly, before the lagoon silted over the become buried in the earth, Roman visitors were said to have sailed over the site frequently, marvelling at the ruins below. 

The above coin is rare find from the site, with the obverse and reverse very clearly depicting Poseidon. 

More recent coverage of the site is here: http://popular-archaeology.com/issue/december-2011/article/archaeologists-uncovering-legendary-lost-city-of-poseidon

Excavations and research also take place every summer, run by http://www.helikeproject.gr/

In one of well documented attempts to ‘rediscover’ Helike in 1979 in the Corinthian Gulf, a Greek undersea explorer Alexis Papadopoulos discovered a sunken town he believed to be Helike, and made a documentary of his findings which were up to 45 m underwater. According to an article discussing his work in 1983 “Whether or not this town can be identified with Helike is a question to be answered by extensive underwater research. In any case, the discovery of this town can be regarded as an extremely interesting find.”

I also happened to come across one of the most glamorous underwater archaeology photos possibly in existence whilst researching work around the time of Alexis Papadopoulos. This is from the cover of the magazine Underwater World, showing a snapshot of the television series “The Magic of the Deep””

When the two meet, the resulting arguments are often explosive. Here’s the most recent story I’ve come across.

“Archaeologists strike gold in quest to find Queen of Sheba’s wealth” - http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2012/feb/12/archaeologists-and-quest-for-sheba-goldmines?INTCMP=SRCH