Professional Documents
Culture Documents
In the beginning,
there is the ascend.
The uphill journey to get closer
to it. To overcome its aura, to
conquer ‘the unique apparition
of a distance’ (Benjamin 2008a:
23).
And along with it, the urge to
capture it through your camera,
to magically transform it into a
picture.
But what is it that you will
photograph?
The marble blocks and the
columns, some still in place,
some taken apart and now
tightly arranged in rows (like
well-behaved schoolchildren on
a parade) ready for their reas-
sembly, and some conserved,
reconstituted and restored,
more clean and more white and
more ancient than before?
Or the national flag, reminding
you that you are entering the
most sacred national monu-
ment of the country?
Or would you rather go for
the information panel, which
neatly tells you ‘the story’?
And would you frame out the
cranes and the other restoration
machinery, which has been here
for ever, now almost as much
part of the Acropolis landscape
as the Parthenon itself?
You may have come to look at
antiquities, but we will make
sure that it is modernity’s sights
(our modernity or yours?) that
you will encounter in every
step.
It is going to start raining in a
minute.
Or this:
next to the classical Temple
of the Erechtheion, a clas-
sical architectural marble
block but with an inscrip-
tion in Arabic, struggling
against gravel to remain
visible, above ground.
It was in 1805 when the
fragment was inscribed
with a text praising the
Ottoman governor of
Athens, and then placed
above a prominent
entrance to the fortified
citadel, overlooking the
small town of Athens.
Photographs, Roland
Barthes (1993 [1980]: 96
and passim) contends,
embody two times simulta-
neously, the ‘that-has-been’
of when the photograph
was taken, and the
‘here-and-now’ of its view-
ing. But what happens
when a photographic object
captures another mate-
rial object which is itself
multi-temporal? An object
which embodies not only
the time of its first creation,
but also subsequent times,
when the very same object,
because of its temporal
depth, its aesthetic-sensorial
appeal, and its agency qual-
ities, was invested with new
meaning and mnemonic
weight? The Acropolis is full
of multi-temporal objects
that defy the mono-chrony
of the classical and resist
its colonising effects. Their
photographic materialisa-
tion adds further to their
multi-temporal charac-
ter, and their mnemonic
impact.
Human emotions
and ancient civic and
political statements,
alongside the modern
archaeological grid.
Desires of permanence
and duration, and desires
of classification, contain-
ment and control.
Talking of sacred-
ness,
why is this fountain
here?
Should it not be at the
entrance of the site?
And it looks too modern
to have stood outside
the small mosque which
was once erected inside
the Parthenon, when
the Acropolis was an
Ottoman citadel.
The ‘unearthing’ of the
optical unconscious,
Walter Benjamin claims
(2008b: 276–88), is a key
function of photography.
By that he means the cap-
turing of contingency, of
the instant, which goes
unnoticed in daily encoun-
ters, a moment which can
then be revealed by the
intense engagement with
the photograph. In taking
his insight further, it can
be claimed that the photo-
graph, as a technique for
the management of atten-
tion (Crary 1992: 18),
enables a sustained and
in-depth engagement with
the micro-locales of the
world that go unnoticed
in daily routines. Such
reflection can also lead to
unexpected connections
and associations.
Sacredness comes in
various guises.
The Christian Acropolis
(Kaldellis 2009) is
another materiality that
refuses to be erased by the
forces of archaeology.
Time to go.
This one we did not see
on our way up. Shiny,
new inscribed marble
upon older, rusty and
wrinkly ones.
This one, installed in 2011
by none other than than
the Queen of Spain, is
perhaps the most recent
layer pilled on the top of
this multi-layered land-
scape: the government of
Spain commemorating
the medieval—
fourteenth-centur y—
Catalan and Aragonian
presence on the Acropolis.
A landscape of commem-
oration, a landscape con-
tinually in the making.
We hadn’t noticed
this either,
it is not that prominently
sign-posted, anyway.
Does the Acropolis
need the seal of recogni-
tion from the UNESCO
World Heritage scheme?
After all, is it not the
Parthenon itself that
adorns UNESCO’s logo?
Yet its world is rather
exclusive and limited, for
it chooses to celebrate
the classical alone, and
mostly that second-half
of the 5th century bc, as
if the Acropolis ceased to
be important after that.
I told you
there was not much to
see here, but you still
wanted to take a stroll
around the hill.
Another small cement
plinth, as inconspicuous
as the one before. But
this time, it sign-posts an
absence. An empty space
in front of it; three lines,
in Greek, in Turkish,
and a clandestine one, in
Greek again.
Before it was demolished,
the Little Mosque, now
an evocative mnemonic
void; but according to
the ones who added the
third line, here stood
Aphrodite’s Temple.
And someone else, or
perhaps the same per-
son, had tried to erase
the Greek word for
mosque. But if you
look carefully, there is
another, smaller graffito,
next to the Turkish line,
in Turkish again: ‘Evet
dogru!’, ‘That’s right!’, it
says, this was indeed the
location of a mosque.
The Acropolis land-
scape is nothing if not
a landscape of con-
testation, a terrain of
silent memories; and
counter-memories.
At last something to
see down here;
and to photograph.
A happy coexistence
of the classical, the
Ottoman, the Christian,
the neo-classical, and the
modern.
Or is it just the photo-
graphic framing of your
multi-cultural fantasies?
Still, the area down here
seems to have been spared
of the cleansing frenzy at
the Acropolis.
Yet everything is behind
metal fences.
Pay for your entry or keep
out: this is an archaeologi-
cal site.
The Acropolis is
everywhere.
Even hanging from the
neck of this woman,
walking passed us on
Areopagitou Street.
Dispersed and mobile
corpo-reality, on the
streets of Athens, in the
galleries of London, in
the global material and
cyber-real ethno-scapes.
Further Reading
This essay is based on the photo-blog, The Other Acropolis (www.theotheracropolis.
com), where more photographic material and other resources can be found; visitors are
also encouraged to leave comments and feedback. On the relationship between the pho-
tographic and the archaeological, see Hamilakis 2001, 2008, 2009; Shanks 1997; Hamilakis
et al. 2009; Bohrer 2011; amongst others. On the recent and contemporary lives of the
Acropolis, in addition to the literature cited above, see Tournikiotis 1994; Hurwit 2000; Caft
antzoglou 2001; Yalouri 2001. On multi-temporality, memory and duration, see Hamilakis
and Labanyi 2008; Olivier, this volume; and of course, Bergson 1991.
Acknowledgements
References
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