I would like to quickly preface this blog post by thanking my close friends and loved ones who have been pillars in my life, and who after the most unhealthy and turbulent period of time helped build my confidence to start writing once more. Thankfully, I have come out the other side optimistic and ready to do these posts again. I am painfully aware that this post is three years late, so... no pressure? I hope you enjoy!
The missing Caryatid
During my recent trip to Athens in July, I stumbled across five statues of women in the Acropolis museum, with a pronounced gap left between two of the statues - a space big enough to fit another one in. Prior to seeing them, I had briefly read about these sisters, but didn't know enough to know who or why she was missing? After feeling her potent absence, I decided to do a little more research; I set out to find the missing sister's story and share it with you. I have decided to name and, from here on, refer to the missing sister as 'Elpis' - an ancient Greek term for 'hope'. This is not historically accurate as she has remained nameless since her creation and theft, but she won't be for this small piece of writing.
Situated atop the Acropolis and across from the infamous Parthenon, the Erechethion is a formidable Ancient Greek temple with its southern roof held up by six statues of maiden sisters called Caryatids. The sister statues are stone carvings of delicately draped women, who appear to wear 'peplos', a simple pinned tunic, but their role is far from simple; they gracefully provide architectural support by serving as integral columns of the temple. The striking marble temple was built circa 420BC, dedicated to the gods Athena and Poseidon, and was considered the most sacred part of the Acropolis. The redoubtable temple was constructed during the Golden age of Athens in the 5th century BC. The 'Golden' age refers to a period in Athens defined by political hegemony, economic prosperity and cultural thriving.
An ancient inscription refers to the sister Caryatids as ‘Korai’, a term simply referring to maids. However, an alternative version claims that their name is derived from the young women of Sparta who honoured the goddess Artemis Karatis every year by dancing. The Caryatids that sit atop of the Acropolis are faithful replicas; the five lasting originals are the ones preserved in the Acropolis museum (see below for a picture I took of them). The sixth Caryatid, controversially yet unsurprisingly, stands on her own in the British museum separated from her sisters by time, thousands of miles, and a longing for unification.
Elpis was stolen from her Greek sisters by Thomas Bruce, England's ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, in 1801. He was responsible for brutally chipping off the captivating sculpture, then shipping her off to Britain as a rather extravagant gift to the British government. The monstrosity of this theft was so bold, that even back in the starkly different world of the early 19th century, his gift was vehemently debated in parliament. Many argued that there were no moral grounds for him to have removed the Caryatid from her rightful place in Greece. Despite appeals, heated protests and a long string of officials advocating for Elpis' return to her homeland, two centuries later, the missing sister still resides all alone in London. British Museum officials have even stated that they have every legal right to own the Caryatid despite the fact she was chipped off a building that was found on foreign soil and embodies Greek history itself. So how is the British Museum's sister managing? According to Greek cultural and museum experts, not very well. Some claim that the cleaning of Elpis has resulted in the permanent change of her skin tone. At a period of time, where decolonisation has found its way into museums, it seems incomprehensible that the British museum remains defiant in the face of cultural liberation.
Seeing the five remaining sisters at the Acropolis museum was incredibly moving. I stood facing these larger-than-life statues and felt the powerful presence of the missing sister, emphasised by the space left in honour of her. Sitting with my feelings, I felt comradery with the Greeks and their collective yearning for her return, as I have often felt the same way when I see the Cyrus Cylinder sitting behind plexiglass at the British museum as an Iranian. Despite Elpis' imposed separation from her sisters, their bond remains unbroken. Their enduring presence atop the Acropolis and in the museum serves as a testament to the resilience of history, cultural pride and hope for a future where Elpis is reunited with her sisters.
The looting of any cultural artefact is proof that although art can travel across borders, its roots will aways dig deep in its homeland.
For this post's poem, I have decided to use a fragment from none other than Sappho.
The stars around the beautiful moon
The stars around the beautiful moon
Hiding their glittering forms
Whenever she shines full on earth...
Silver...
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