At long last, this afternoon Amras and I were finally able to get to the museum. We have actually been trying to do this all season, ever since it was announced that another large-scale travelling Egyptian exhibit was coming to town. I don’t know that we saved to the end of the contract on purpose, but that’s definitely how it worked out.
We’ve been to museums all over the country, in fact, between the two of us we’ve been to museums all over the world. But I still hold a very strong soft spot for my local museum. I have spent so much time there that ever corner of it feels familiar even though things do inevitably change.
The Time of the Pharaoh’s exhibit is currently housed in the same space that once housed Circus Magicus (wow, that seems like such a long time ago now), and Eternal Egypt (for which I volunteered and dressed up as Cleopatra every day…which also seems like a long time ago), and Titanic: the Artifact Exhibit. It’s a small space, but the way they lay out the artifacts makes it feel massive. As if it is a museum within a museum.
Whenever I see anything from Ancient Egypt, I am always struck by the sense that we have somehow…lost something. I mean here we are, we think we are so advanced, with our lazers and our machines and computer chips. And yet, we simply cannot replicate the level of intricate detail and perfect craftsmanship that this long ago civilization was able to accomplish without any of those so called advantages. There were pieces on display today that were so tiny that a modern day artist would most likely need a microscope to accomplish anything even close…and yet there they were, perfect and shining despite being thousands of years old.
And then…then there was Hatshepsut.
I have always admired her story; originally a regent only, she took the throne over her stepson who was too young to rule and was ultimately declared a full pharaoh. But she wouldn’t be seen as queen, she dressed as a pharaoh ,complete with every piece of ceremonial garb. Even the beard. When her stepson ultimately claimed this throne after her death, he tried his best to obliterate her from the history books, even going so far – if I remmeber right – as to destroy her biggest temple (I’d have to check on that, I’m not 100% certain). But history would not forget the woman-who-would-be-king. I turned the corner of the hallway and found myself staring at her…larger than life: a bust on loan from the Berlin museum (who acquired it how and when I do not know, I’m sure that would be an interesting story). You could still see the traces of gold and blue paint that once adorned her head-dress, and her eyes, though now blank with age, seemed so very wise. But it was her smile, she had …an almost flirtatious smile, with that little bit of knowing danger playing around the edges.
If you knew what I knew…
That smile seemed to say
If you knew what I knew, if you’d seen what I’d seen.
I could have just sat there, and stared at her all day.
Of course, in any display involving Egypt, there will always be something mummy related. Although (thankfully?) this particular display did not involve any mummies. It did have an large number of grave statues and various medallions, and three beautiful mummy cases that were tenderly preserved behind glass. The small meters in the corners of their cases keeping track of their humidity levels.
Under glass, it’s always under glass.
I have always had an odd relationship with any kind of museum exhibit that displays artifacts that were drawn from the depths of a grave. Egypt especially, Egypt has always gotten to me. As an armchair historian (okay not exactly armchair, I do have a degree in Art History although the need for advanced math kept me away from archeology) – I understand the need of humanity to understand its past and the cultures that the modern day has been built on. Somehow we have this intrinsic need to understand something before we can respect it. And even then I wonder if we really do – and after all, can something that exist in the minds of so many so long ago really be understood? Anyway, I understand the desire at least. But that historic understanding and natural thirst for knowledge clashes with something else; if truth is born out of belief, then who are we to say that the artifacts we are examining under glass, were not something that actually bound their owner to the afterlife? If what we have come to learn is true, if these trinkets and baubles and perfectly carved statuettes were all necessary for advancement of the soul after death…if we follow that train of thought…and accept that that was their truth. Then when we remove those artifacts, when we desecrate those graves, are we not denying someone from so many eons ago, their own peace beyond the veil?
How arrogant are we to think that our need for knowledge is more important than someone else’s very soul?
I asked my art history professor about it once, and she told me that having that internal struggle was what actually made a good historian.
And yet, when the Egyptian exhibits come to the museum – I always, always go.
Because…I suppose the historian wins. And because I too, deeply want to understand the culture that I respect.
But the same battle always rages.
And much as I am fascinated, intrigued and sometime appalled by history…I just don’t have an answer yet.
I certainly don’t have your understanding of things and have never studied art or history like you. I’d like to think that the people placed in the graves, that were later robbed, had already reached their peace in the afterlife and, therefore, the taking of the artifacts would not affect them or their journey; that the artifacts were what aided them in reaching their destination and not what is needed to keep them there.
I’m glad you finally made it to the museum and enjoyed yourselves. It’s a wonderful way to spend a day.