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The photographic and the archaeological: The Other Acropolis

2015, The photographic and the archaeological: The Other Acropolis In Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities (ed. P. Carabott, E. Papargyriou & Y. Hamilakis), 133-157. London: Ashgate

6 he Photographic and the Archaeological: he ‘Other Acropolis’ Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis It is becoming increasingly accepted that the invention of photography was a long process rather than a single event, and that what Batchen has called ‘the desire to photograph’ (1997) had preceded the public declaration of the launch of the new technology. One moment, however, which has acquired immense importance in this long process is the famous speech delivered by the French physicist, politician and director of the Paris Observatory, François Arago, to the French Chamber of Deputies, on 3 July 1839.1 he speech was aimed at persuading the Chamber to buy Daguerre’s invention and grant him a pension, and as he was speaking, Arago passed around images of famous Parisian monuments and landmarks such as Notre Dame and Pont Neuf. In a rather orientalising tone, he emphasised strongly the beneits of the new technology in the efort to produce exact facsimiles of monuments, and bring ‘home’ archaeological treasures, or at least their photographic depictions: Upon examining several of the pictures to be submitted for your inspection all will consider the immense advantages which would have been derived, during the expedition to Egypt for example, as a means of reproduction so exact and so rapid: all will be struck by this relection that if photography had been known in 1798, we should this day have possessed faithful representations of many valuable antiquities now, through the cupidity of the Arabs, and the vandalism of certain travelers, lost forever to the learned world. To copy the millions and millions of hieroglyphics which entirely cover to the very exterior the great monuments at hebes, Memphis, Carnac, etc., would require scores of years and legions of artists. With the Daguerréotype, a single man would suice to bring to a happy conclusion this vast labor (Arago 1889 [1839]: 242–3). 1 Arago had irst announced the discovery to the French Academy of Sciences on 7 January, 1839, but the July speech was the irst, full-scale report (Levitt 2009: 153–5). From Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, eds Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou. Copyright © 2015 by the Centre for Hellenic Studies. Published by Ashgate Publishing Ltd, Wey Court East, Union Road, Farnham, Surrey, GU9 7PT, Great Britain. 133 © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 134 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes Even before this speech, however, the Gazette de France, in its irst description of the invention on 6 January 1839, would declare: ‘Travellers, you will soon be able, perhaps, at the cost of some hundreds of francs, to acquire the apparatus invented by M. Daguerre, and you will be able to bring back to France the most beautiful monuments, the most beautiful scenes of the whole world’.2 Across the English Channel, Fox Talbot, the other key igure in the invention of the medium, was also known for his antiquarian interests, had done much work on Assyriology and had published a number of important translations of cuneiform texts (Schaaf 2000: 28). In the publication where he announced the invention of ‘the new art of photogenic drawing’, he Pencil of Nature (1844), he would comment how ancient statues are particularly suitable for the new medium: ‘Statues, busts, and other specimens of sculpture, are generally well represented by the Photographic Art; and also very rapidly, in consequence of their whiteness’ (1844, n.p.). he apparatuses of photography and archaeology were thus linked right from the start, and as we will try to show below, the associations are much deeper than the rhetorical pronouncements of its pioneers. It is thus surprising that there is still relatively little discussion on the shared ontological and epistemic principles of the two domains, the photographic and the archaeological.3 In this chapter, we will start by exploring briely the collateral development of archaeology and photography as two key devices of capitalist modernity, before we proceed to present an alternative mode of photographic-cum-archaeological production, and one which can be characterised as counter-modern. Our general points and thoughts will be grounded on one of the most photographed archaeological locales worldwide, the Athenian Acropolis. Photography and archaeology as collateral devices of modernity In the very same year that the invention of the daguerreotype was publicly announced, 1839, the Acropolis became the subject of a series of images, by the merchant Joly de Lotbinière (cf. Bohrer, Tsirgialou, this volume). He was in the audience when Arago gave his speech, and immediately acquired the invention. Lotbinière, who preserved in his photographs the last remnants of the small Ottoman mosque inside the Parthenon, inaugurated the long history of photographic depiction of the site. 2 he text was written by H. Gaucheraud, and the translation is by B. Newhall; it is reproduced in Newhall 1980: 17–18. 3 It is encouraging that in recent years there has been an extensive discussion on the links between archaeology and photography, as well as attempts to make the most of the creative possibilities of the medium, beyond documentation; see, for example, Shanks 1997; Hamilakis 2001, 2008, 2009; Bateman 2005; Lyons et al. 2005; Downing 2006; Houser 2007; Hamilakis et al. 2009; Guha 2010; Baird 2011; Bohrer 2011; Hamilakis and Ifantidis 2013; Ifantidis 2013. But very few studies explore the philosophical and epistemic reasons for this close association and their mutual and collateral constitution as visual devices of western, capitalist modernity. tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal 135 In the decades to come, his steps would be followed by countless commercial and other photographers who, especially after the invention of the negative-positive process, and, later, in the 1850s, of the albumen print, would create a new visual and material economy, based on the dissemination of photographic-cum-archaeological objects. We have argued elsewhere (Hamilakis 2001, 2008, 2009a, 2009b) that this photographic production went hand-in-hand with the archaeological production of the site as the sacred locus of Hellenic national imagination. Since the foundation of the modern Greek state in the 1830s, the Acropolis, which was seen as the most important archaeological monument for the new state, and the most sacred ancient locale in the national imagination, became the central focus of an extensive campaign. Archaeologists on the ground were engaged in processes of clearing, demolition, reconstruction and rebuilding and exhibition. In other words, they were clearing the site of all ‘matter out of place’, material traces that did not it in with the dream of a sacralised, classical site: Ottoman, Frankish or other buildings, mnemonic traces of the rich and multi-faceted biography of the site, but ones that evoked dark spots in the national narrative. hey also completely rebuilt some monuments, such as the small temple of Athena Nike. Taking place in 1835–36, this was the irst, complete restoration of an archaeological monument by the new state (Mallouhou-Tufano 1998: 20–22). he temple had been destroyed by the Ottomans in the seventeenth century, who used the building material to reinforce the fortiication of the Acropolis on the eve of Morosini’s attack. Its fragments were found amidst the rubble when demolishing one of the bastions in the Propylaea, and the rebuilding project acquired immense symbolic importance for the new nation state, standing for the re-emergence of Hellas from the ruins of the Ottoman regime, after the War of Independence (Hamilakis 2007: 93–4). But the wholly reconstituted temple also became one of the most photogenic sights on the Acropolis and has been photographed endlessly, portrayed mostly in splendid isolation, and from an angle that enhances and exaggerates its size. Archaeologists, architects, and other scholars, starting with Ludwig Ross and Leo von Klenze who belonged to the entourage of the irst Bavarian King of Greece, were producing a monumentalised site, a landscape of oblivion, a site and a sight ready for visual inspection and dissemination (cf. Hamilakis 2007). Photographers in their turn found in this process of monumentalisation, readymade themes, which were staged and framed for them by archaeologists. hey, of course, carried out their own process of photographic monumentalisation, by further isolating classical monuments, by framing out traces of contemporary life, and where possible, all remnants of other material presences beyond the classical, by producing, in other words, a standardised classical gaze which was objectiied and materialised on paper. By the middle of the nineteenth century, it seems that a photographic rendering of the Acropolis followed a more or less ixed pattern: photographers followed a standard itinerary, and from the vast range of monuments, buildings and artefacts scattered on and around the Acropolis, a few selected ones became the most favoured, and these were photographed from speciic angles, over and over (cf. Szegedy-Maszak 2001; Tsirgialou, this volume). © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 136 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes he photographs of the Acropolis were sold by catalogue individually or as part of photo-albums and became desirable souvenirs for both visitors to the site and armchair travellers. Demand for such photographs amongst the European middle classes coincided with the emergence of leisure time and of the new phenomenon of tourism in the nineteenth century. here were, of course, exceptions to this photographic canon. Some nineteenthcentury commercial photographers, for example, would produce, in addition to the static and standardised photographs of isolated monuments, images that would include signs of contemporary life and sights of modernisation, such as railway lines. Pascal Sébah is a case in point here (see Grossman, this volume), and one could also mention Greek photographers such as Constantin Athanasiou. he work of Stillman is also an exception, foregrounding a more phenomenological and fully embodied rendering of the monuments of the Acropolis. But his output was part of a rather diferent trajectory, not being a commercial photographer, and having a rather idiosyncratic personal, aesthetic and political background (see Bohrer, this volume). Despite these exceptions, however, which deserve a thorough and in-depth investigation, the commercial photographic production and dissemination of the Acropolis speaks of a photographic canon which was created alongside, and in collaboration with, the archaeological canon. his commercial photographic production responded to the demand for certain stereotypical views on classical monuments, and at the same time reinforced and disseminated them further. hese were the sights of monumentalised sacred icons, standing isolated on a terra nullius4 on a country that was not seen (by the European middle classes and many of their scholars) as part of European modernity. It is no coincidence that Athenian photographs, of the mid to late nineteenth century, by the Beirut-based, French photographer Félix Bonils and his family were often sold as part of the ive-volume album, souvenirs d’orient (cf. Hamilakis 2001). his was the classic colonial scheme of what Fabian has called ‘allochronism’, or the ‘denial of coevalness’ (1983): the belief that the country that was now modern Greece belonged to another time, and it did not participate in the temporality of western European modernity; it was rather a landscape of ruins, structured and deined by the temporality of the classical. his was also a colonial gaze which monumentalised, both photographically and archaeologically, the crypto-colony that the modern state of Greece was becoming (cf. Herzfeld 2002). Allusions to classical authors and to biblical sources were evident in many of the photographs, allusions that the educated middle classes that consumed this photographic production would have been able to decipher. he photographic-mechanical hyper-production of the Acropolis, despite Walter Benjamin’s expectations (2008), did not in fact diminish its aura, but rather had the opposite efect: it led to its further mystiication. he Acropolis 4 his well-known term, deriving from Roman law, denotes in recent discussion the European colonisation of ‘empty’ lands, thought of belonging to no one. tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal 137 became the original of a myriad of reproductions. he dissemination of countless photographic images of the monument certainly made its material presence better known amongst the European middle classes. But these were the mostly sanitised images of an object which was becoming more and more isolated, cordoned of by archaeology and experienced, even by the people who visited the site, primarily through the sense of distant, autonomous vision, reinforcing further its appreciation as an exclusively visual, non-material icon.5 his prevailing sense of dematerialisation is responsible for the ‘disturbance’ that Freud experienced on his visit to the site, when he would realise that the icon he had grown up with, the gloriied entity that dominated the imagination of middle and upper classes and their scholars for several centuries, did indeed exist and had a physical and tangible character, not simply a phantasmic one (Freud 1932–36; cf. also Bohrer, this volume). Jonathan Crary (1992) has shown that photography materialised a new technique for the management of attention, and one that was part of the broader regime of capitalist modernity. Unlike earlier scopic regimes, embodied by technologies such as the camera obscura, photography realised a sense of autonomous vision, which was lodged on the mobile body of the observer; more importantly, it was based on the new cultural economy of value and exchange. he reproducibility of photography meant that photographs can and have operated as currency in this new visual economy (cf. Poole 1997; Sekula 1981). To quote Sekula (1981: 23), ‘[l]ike money, the photograph is both a fetishised end in itself and a calibrated signiier of a value that resides elsewhere, both autonomous and bound to its referential function’. Archaeology, as another device of capitalist modernity, has attributed inancial value to antiquities rendering them commodities, although their entanglement with ideas of nationhood, in the case of Greece as elsewhere, meant that their monetary exchange had to be curtailed; not only because they were now the property of the nation, but also because they became sacralised, venerated icons in the national imagination (cf. Hamilakis 2007). heir sacred connotations thus were at odds with over-commercialisation and monetary exchange. Western travellers could no longer freely appropriate or easily purchase ancient works of art, as the nation states which were founded in the nineteenth century declared them national property and protected them; instead, they could purchase photographic depictions of them. Barthes (1981: 93) notes that the same century invented photography and history, but the same can be said of modern, professional archaeology. At the moment of their collateral inception, photography and professional archaeology shared the epistemological certainties of western modernity: the principle of visual evidential truth (‘seeing is believing’), the desire to narrate things ‘as they really were’ and the idea of objectivism. By this we mean that 5 Photographs, of course, as we will discuss later, can activate tactile, even multi-sensorial performances, but to what extent this potential was materialised by most people, given the distancing efects of the aura of the monument within the western imagination, is debatable. © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 138 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes both archaeology and photography objectiied, in both senses of the word: archaeology produced, through selective recovery, reconstitution and restoration of the fragmented material traces of the past, objects for primarily visual inspection; and photography transformed these into photographic objects. he notions of spectacle and surveillance lie at the core of both, whether dealing with museum exhibitions, or the meticulous recording of things and other inanimate and animate beings, and their careful classiication into taxonomies: the distance between the police mugshot and the photograph of a rare artefact captured by archaeologists, is a short one indeed (cf. Tagg 1988). Archaeology and photography both partake of what Bennett (1995) calls, the ‘exhibitionary complex’, or what Heidegger called a fundamental event of modernity, that is ‘the conquest of the world as picture’ (1977: 134). Photography also facilitated a fundamental illusion of the modernist, especially national, imagination: the re-collection, the bringing together of things (in the form of their photographic representations), and the creation and reconstitution of the whole, of the corpus, of a national or archaeological totality (cf. Hamilakis 2007). Yet despite these dominant developments, western modernity, far from being a monolithic entity, harboured diverse gazes and visual regimes. Other, vernacular modernities came into existence, both within and outside the European core, and their take on photography, including the consumption of photographic objects, were and are quite diverse (cf. Lydon 2005; Pinney 2001; Pinney and Peterson 2003; Wright 2004). Professional and modernist archaeological cultures were also expressed in diverse ways, but were also constrained at the same time by the elite character of the enterprise. Above everything else, a fundamental notion that connects archaeology with photography is that of time and temporality. Both apparatuses attempted to freeze time: photography by capturing and freezing the leeting moment,6 and archaeology, through conservation, restoration and other processes, by arresting the social life of things, buildings and objects, and attempting to reconstitute them into an idealised, originary state, into an eternal monumentalised moment. he linguistic allusions made by commentators such as Bazin (1960) point to another existential-cum-temporal association: the notion of death. It is no coincidence that in the nineteenth century, the launch of photography was described by a number of commentators as necromancy (communication with the dead) (Batchen 1997: 92), and that the links between death and photography are regularly encountered in photographic discourses, including canonical writings, most notably in Barthes’s Camera lucida (1981), but also in the writings of Jacques Derrida (see below; cf. also Cadava 1997: 11). Likewise, archaeology in modernity is also a form of ‘communication with the dead’, through their material remnants. But this temporal association between the two also provides an opening for a reconigured relationship: both archaeology and photography connect 6 Photography ‘embalms time’, notes Bazin 1960: 8; cf. also Berger and Mohr 1982: 86. tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal 139 past and present, or rather bring them together side by side, they enable and engender a communication and a dialogue between the two. In other words, they both have the potential to act as multi-temporal processes and devices. Photography, Batchen notes (1997: 92), ‘seems to ofer a temporal experience signiicantly diferent from that provided by the previous media’, and points to the ‘photograph’s peculiar characteristics, in particular its ability to bring past and present together in one visual experience’. Archaeology deals with things that were produced and shaped in the past, but continue to live and exist in the present; their durational qualities enact multiple times simultaneously (cf. Bergson 1991; Hamilakis 2013; Hamilakis and Labanyi 2008). It is this enormous potential, that both domains have, that is the ability to disrupt the linear, sequential and successive temporality of modernity, which made Barthes note that photography causes a ‘disturbance (to civilization)’ (1981: 12). We argue that such a ‘disturbance’ holds immense promise for future collaborative engagements of the photographic and the archaeological, in engendering alternative forms of temporal understandings. Multi-temporality thus provides a shared ontological basis for archaeology and photography, but the two domains also share a grounding on materiality, sensoriality and memory, notions closely connected. Photographs are material memories of the things, persons and events experienced by the photographic apparatus, and archaeology is a mnemonic practice, an attempt to re-collect the material fragments from diverse times. Remembering and forgetting are engendered through the sensorial experience of material things, including photographs. Indeed, one of the most interesting recent developments in photographic theory is the treatment of photographs as evocative and sensorial material things, not simply as disembodied visual signiiers. Such an understanding inds support in recent research on the history and anthropology of photography. As Batchen (2004) has shown, the mnemonic and afective import of photographs is often enhanced with their embellishment (by their ‘handlers’) with other artefacts, as well as human hair and odorous plants (cf. Olin 2012). Furthermore, a number of anthropologists have recorded the diverse material practices involving photographs, their reworking, embodied appreciation, partial modiication or destruction, and their investment with agency and often supernatural power (cf. Edwards 2001, 2009; Pinney and Peterson 2003; Edwards and Hart 2004; Wright 2004). It was especially its tactile properties that encouraged Walter Benjamin (2008) to celebrate photography as the new mimetic technology that could enrich the human sensorium, acting as a prosthetic sensory device (Buck-Morss 1992; Taussig 1993). his refocusing of the discussion allows us to move away from the original, shared ontological and epistemic principles of archaeology and photography as scientiic devices that record and thus preserve and disseminate evidential truths, and accept instead their role as processes of production (cf. Derrida 2010a: 44–5). Developments in photographic technology, especially the advent of the digital era and the widespread computer manipulation of images, has made it easier © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 140 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes to treat the photographic processes as creative production, rather than as pure recording. he acknowledgement, in recent years, of the contingent character of the archaeological process and of the role of the archaeologist as cultural producer rather than as an objective scientist (cf. Hamilakis 1999; Shanks and McGuire 1996), has had a similar efect. Both archaeology and photography produce material artefacts which, by virtue of their materiality, invite a fullyembodied, multi-sensorial and kinaesthetic encounter. To put it another way, the photographic and the archaeological will need to be re-conceptualised as homological processes within the ields of materiality, memory, and temporality, rather than the conventionally opted for, ields of visual studies and visionoriented art history, within the discourse of objectivity and scientiic accuracy. heir originary and ancestral links can be transformed into a creative association which may lead to collaborative projects with signiicant aesthetic, social and political potential. his is what we have attempted in he other acropolis project, which we discuss below. Persistent memories But what about the Acropolis? Have other, more recent works countered its photographic monumentalisation? Indeed, given its continuous archaeological monumentalisation, and given that both the site and the new Acropolis museum continue to be landscapes and museo-scapes of oblivion (cf. Hamilakis 2011), can we produce a photographic material culture which can work against this prevailing process? Time limitations prevent a long exposure of the countless recent photographic renderings of the site, and we will only mention briely two, before we proceed to present our own project. he irst is the work Metoikesis by Lizzie Calligas who recorded the transfer of antiquities from the old Acropolis museum to the new one, in 2007–08. She was given unique access to the delicate archaeological and conservation process of packing and transferring the objects from one locality to the next, and has produced a series of evocative images which aford multiple readings. For her exhibitions in Athens and hessaloniki in 2010–11, she chose a small number of photographs depicting mostly the Archaic Korai (female statues), wrapped up in protective clothing and held together by masking tape (Fig. 6.1). he statues are projected in splendid isolation with little or no indication of their surroundings, no signs of the archaeologists and conservators who were working on and with them, and mostly on a black, white or grey, at times fuzzy and blurred background. he project had a special, emotive signiicance for the artist, since, as she notes, the Acropolis Museum was her favourite one, and she had spent many hours there over several visits. Her imagery and, more so, her own commentary on this work, cite the well-known national mnemonic topos that sees ancient statues as living and breathing beings, a topos that originates in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, if not before (cf. Hamilakis 2007): tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal Figure 6.1 141 Two photographic projects on the Acropolis: J-F. Bonhomme’s book project with Jacques Derrida on the left and Lizzie Calligas’s Metoikesis on the right I [...] felt a sting of melancholy at the thought that the Korai would now have to leave the rock of the Acropolis for the irst time in almost two and a half millennia – it seemed to me that they were being uprooted from where they naturally belonged […] he space of the old museum now looked like a hospital, or a vast operating room. Conservators and archaeologists in white gloves quietly moved about the antiquities, following the instructions of a meticulously thought-out plan, doing what had to be done […] Beneath their cover of white fabric the statues seemed mysterious and oddly alive. I made up stories about them and used my camera to translate into image all that I saw and felt (Calligas 2010a: 115). he tropes of living and breathing statues who are being uprooted from their home (especially when these statues are forced to live in ‘exile’) are central to the national imagination. Moreover, archaeologists and conservators here became the medical professionals who perform the necessary surgical operations, in order to heal the trauma of the uprooting from a millennia-old home. hey are also the ritual specialists who would make sure that the vulnerable bodies of the Korai do not sufer any pollution – another key theme in the national imagination – in this traumatic process, hence the white, surgical gloves. But in the contemporary, globalised visual landscape, these images cannot but recall some other imagery, and some more disturbing events and locales. We have in mind other bodies that, for the past 15 years or so, haunt our memories, and even our dreams: Muslim women in Afghanistan wearing the burka; dead bodies in Iraq, Afghanistan or other Middle Eastern countries shrouded in a mostly white cloth, according to the Islamic funerary custom; or the images of the hooded, tortured prisoner in Abu Ghraib in © Copyrighted Material © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 142 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes Iraq, standing on a crate, wearing a sheet or a piece of cloth, arms extended, and electrodes attached to his ingers. It is the sight of faceless isolated bodies, wrapped up in white or grey clothing and masking tape that provokes these connections. Given these inevitable associations, and the fact that, as one commentator notes (MacDonald 2010: 21), the underlying theme here is displacement, can these images also operate as an artistic intervention on the fate and continuous sufering of recent immigrants to Greece from Asian and African countries, mostly Muslim in religion? It is hard to tell, although the rhetorical tropes that have accompanied this work seem to subscribe to the national imaginings on antiquity and to the ‘spiritual values of classical art and the austere hieratic character of the monument’ (as the preface to Calligas 2010b states), than to transnational concerns about borders, wars and immigration. he second photographic intervention is by the French photographer and philosopher Jean-François Bonhomme. His Athenian work was irst published (in Athens, in a bilingual Greek and French edition) in 1996, but the photographs had been taken several years earlier. his edition was given the evocative and ambiguous title, athens in the shadow of the acropolis (athènes à l’ombre de l’acropole) and was accompanied by extensive commentary by Jacques Derrida (Bonhomme and Derrida 1996). A French edition (2009) was entitled demeure, athènes, an ambiguous title that was rendered in the English edition, a year later, as athens, still remains (Derrida 2010b). Here, antiquities intermingle with antiques and bric-a-brac from the Monastiraki lea market, whereas photographs taken at the meat and ish market or the now gone, historic Neon cofee shop in Omonia Square a few hundred metres away, are reproduced side by side with ancient funerary stelae and inscriptions. In a stunning photograph, which is also reproduced on the cover of the original edition, two Caryatids from the Erechtheion are portrayed tied up in ropes and on the move, this time presumably from the monument to the now defunct, old Acropolis museum (Fig. 6.1). he absence of human beings, the angle chosen which accentuates the forward movement of the statues’ legs, and the tight, almost horizontal rope, gives the impression of walking statues which are pulled by an invisible force, evoking anthropomorphic narratives about the Caryatids, especially the stories that refer to the ‘abduction’ of the ‘girl’ from the Acropolis by Lord Elgin (cf. Hamilakis 2007: 70). On the other hand, on this image contemporary Athens can be seen in the background, and at the feet of the statues, discarded tools, seemingly linked to archaeological and conservation work, provide a context to this photographic event. his work is rich in ambiguous photographic and textual allusions, resisting any easy interpretation, and any co-option into national or other narratives. ‘We owe ourselves to death’ is the opening line in Derrida’s text, citing a photographic association which, as we saw above, originates from the irst years of the inception of photography. Indeed, there is much here on ruination, memory, tactility, temporality, and death, and on the photographic process as a whole, as the several images which depict cameras, as well as the sleeping photographer on the Acropolis, testify. he tradition of the tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal 143 photographic monumentalisation of the Acropolis looms large even on today’s creative and artistic photographers, although some photographic production can clearly aford and engender diverse and at times subversive readings. he Other Acropolis project Within this context and this long history of archaeo-photography with the Acropolis at its centre, our own endeavour, he other acropolis project, which was launched in 2008, has multiple aims and aspirations. he idea emerged out of both critical work on the archaeological and photographic monumentalisation of the site since the nineteenth century, and the frustration that such monumentalisation is largely still being perpetuated and actively encouraged by institutions and oicial discourses and practices, into the twenty-irst century. One need only look at the photographs included in the printed tourist guides available at the Acropolis, to understand our discontent (for an exception, see Brouskari 2006). hat frustration is compounded by the observation that, judging by contemporary popular photographic production as seen on internet ile sharing sites such as Flickr, for example, far too many photographs of the Acropolis follow the established photographic canon. It is as if visitors feel the need, almost the impulse, to produce their own iconic and stereotypical, postcard-like imagery, and exhibit it side by side with the professional ones. Our original plan entailed the creation of an alternative visitors guide to the site, a guide that would help visitors rediscover and retrace overlooked or actively hidden materialities and temporalities, and enable them to engage with the site in a multi-sensorial and kinaesthetic manner. hat guide is still ‘on the cards’, but in addition to the signiicant amount of work it requires, it will also have to deal with the centralised bureaucratic archaeological procedures that control the dissemination of all printed and other material on site, including a vetting process of the content of such material. In the meantime, we have started the production of a series of photographic objects, along with their instant dissemination through a photo-blog (www.theotheracropolis.com). his is the initial manifesto of the project, posted on the website: his photoblog is the irst stage of a series of projects by he other acropolis Collective. We have a background in archaeology, anthropology or media studies, and we all share a desire to intervene critically in the processes that often result in monolithic and exclusivist archaeological and heritage materialities in the present. Our aim is to produce a range of alternative media interventions which will take the iconic site of the Athenian Acropolis as their centre, their point of departure or their target (in all senses of the word). his project is a follow-up from a number of other, more conventional academic projects, to do with issues such as the role of the Acropolis in nationalist and colonialist discourses and practices, the social, political, and sensual lives of its ruins, the ways by which the transformative power of archaeological and photographic apparatuses have produced and endlessly reproduced the site/sight of the Acropolis, the tourist experience of the site and so on. © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 144 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes his project can be seen as the attempt to undermine the monolithic discourse on the Acropolis as an exclusively classical site, by bringing into the fore its other lives, from prehistory to the present (the Mycenaean, the Medieval, the Ottoman, the Muslim, the Christian, the contemporary…), especially through their material traces that still survive, despite the extensive processes of archaeological, but also photographic puriication. We draw our inspiration from two concepts: the irst is multi-temporality, and the second, multi-sensoriality. We believe that the site and the space around it constitute a unique locale which can re-activate diferent times, evoke diferent cultures, and reconnect with diverse and luid identities. At the same time, we hope to encourage a fully embodied, multi-sensory appreciation and engagement with the materiality of the site, beyond the stereotypical, tourist gaze, or the national pilgrimage. We also favour the re-incorporation of this locale into the fabric of daily life, especially for the people who live around it. We hope that the thoughts and the material generated here will lead to other projects and interventions, some onsite, some printed, some virtual, with more immediate a printed, portable alternative tourist guide for he other acropolis. We invite you to post your comment, share your thoughts and if you are an artist or a researcher already working on a similar project, get in touch with us. Most of the photographs on that site were produced by Fotis Ifantidis although we have encouraged others to post their own material. hey have been subjected to minimal computer manipulation to enhance sharpness and contrast, and to highlight features and themes that were essential for the purposes of the project. In this intervention, we have actively attempted to disrupt the canonical itinerary, partly dictated by the route designated by the authorities, and partly by the mnemonic recollection and mimetic citation of an almost 200-year-old pilgrimage: perhaps some panoramic shots from the Philopappos Hill opposite (cf. Bohrer, this volume), and then up the Acropolis hill, through the Propylaea, a quick look to the right for the Temple of Athena Nike, when not dismantled or covered by scafolding for yet another restoration and rebuilding, then either straight to the Parthenon, or to the Parthenon via the Erechtheion, ending at the Acropolis Museum, which, however, ceased to function as such in June 2007.7 7 he new Acropolis Museum below the Acropolis opened two years later, in June 2009, and in 2010 it received 1.4 million visitors, compared to only 995,000 for the site (http://www. artmediaagency.com/en/10004/the-new-acropolis-museum-receives-more-visitors-than-theacropolis-itself/ accessed 9 August 2013). he museum attracted more visitors than the archaeological site itself, dethroning the Acropolis from its position as the most popular archaeological attraction in Greece. he same has happened in the period between January and March 2013, that is before the start of the foreign tourist season: 187,000 people visited the museum, and only 137,000 the site. (http:// www.statistics.gr/portal/page/portal/ESYE/BUCKET/A1802/PressReleases/A1802_SCI21_DT_ MM_03_2013_01_F_EN.pdf; accessed 8 August 2013). he new museum was conceived from the start as an intervention within the aesthetics and politics of vision (cf. Hamilakis 2011), hence the insistence that it should allow for a direct visual contact with the monument itself. Ironically enough, however, in the irst couple of years of the operation of the museum, photographing by visitors was prohibited. More recently, photographing has been allowed in the Parthenon gallery only, and in fact the patio and that speciic gallery of the museum have become the new canonical vantage points from which to photograph the Acropolis. tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal Figure 6.2 145 Fotis Ifantidis, Remnants of Muslim tombstones on the Acropolis source: Fotis Ifantidis In this itinerary, the stops to take photos, and the positions and angles chosen were and are almost pre-determined. We wanted to asked visitors instead to stop at some other interesting spots. For example, as they were walking up the hill through the Propylaea, we wanted to draw attention to some broken marbles, fragmented remnants which could be spotted if one were to leave that predetermined route, and instead of continuing the ascent, go down some steps northwards, and to the left as they were walking up. Amongst the rubble, they would have noticed fragments of Muslim headstones from graves (Fig. 6.2). hese were most likely shaped from ancient architectural pieces when, during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the area to the south-west of the Acropolis was a Muslim cemetery.8 To spot these remnants and to recognise them as such is a rather diicult task for the contemporary visitor, even one with prior knowledge and expertise on the site. To venture into these parts of the site can also be risky, as they are not meant to be fully accessible to the public. his photograph does not only foreground and highlight these Muslim, Ottoman traces as worthy of attention, but also projects the site as a continually living landscape, where practices of reworking and reshaping the material past were central. At the same time, the photograph frames these fragments within an unconventional background which includes a Christian church, other nineteenth- or early twentieth-century buildings, and the lush vegetation of the Athenian Agora, complete with exotic palm trees. he associations here are not only with diverse, multi-religious and multi-temporal pasts, but also with a non-typically European landscape. 8 For a visual testimony, see the 1790 drawings by homas Hope (1769–1831) (Tsigakou 1985). © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 146 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes Figure 6.3 Fotis Ifantidis, An ancient architectural fragment from the Erechtheion with an 1805 Ottoman inscription (26-10-2007) source: Fotis Ifantidis Finally, the horizontal prominence of the metal fence evokes an enclosed and thus prohibited or at least inaccessible locale, whereas the multiplicity and the fragmentary nature of the architectural debris contrasts sharply with the prominent and extensive restoration and rebuilding projects that dominate the Acropolis, embodiments of the desire to re-collect the fragments and reconstruct an idealised, originary, singular and inevitably arbitrary whole. As the visitors were to continue their tour, and after quickly seeing the Erechtheion and before they set of for the Parthenon, we wanted to draw their attention to another multi-temporal and multi-cultural piece (Fig. 6.3): an ancient architectural fragment with an 1805 Ottoman inscription in Arabic script (cf. Paton 1927: 7–72; and for a translation of the inscription, Kambouroglou 1889: 211). In the nineteenth century, this piece was embedded in one of the gates of the Acropolis in the Propylaea; the inscription praises the Ottoman governor of Athens and his eforts to fortify the Acropolis (cf. Hamilakis 2007). Since we spotted this piece several years ago, we keep returning to it and have photographed its progressive reburial under a pile of gravel. Its current fate is unknown. However, we also wanted to draw attention to the materiality and physicality of the rock itself and evoke its tactile properties, as well as its constant making and remaking and its intended and unintended transformation. A photographic object such as the one shown in Figure 6.4, for example, directs the gaze downwards, towards the rock surface itself. To be more precise, tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal Figure 6.4 147 Fotis Ifantidis, Slippery surfaces source: Fotis Ifantidis this photograph was not produced out of a deliberate attempt to photograph the rock surface. It was rather the rock itself or, better, the slippery efects of its polished surface which forces you to move slowly and very carefully that demanded and captured our attention. Furthermore, this embodied reaction © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 148 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes encouraged us to relect not only on the physicality and the geology of the Acropolis before (and despite of ) any cultural alteration, but also on the archaeological processes of extensive clearing that started in the 1830s, and which stripped from the rock most, if not all, its soil, and with it, all or almost all its post-classical material. Since then, exposed to the feet of millions of visitors, the rock has become polished, shiny and slippery, so preserving the memory of countless tourist and other pilgrimages. hese slippery surfaces invite us to write a history of the Acropolis ‘through the feet’, to evoke the memorable phrase by Tim Ingold (2004). As noted earlier, the foregrounding of the multi-temporality of the site became a central concern of our eforts, not an easy task, given the extensive campaigns by oicial archaeology to erase all non-classical archaeological traces and produce the contemporary landscape of oblivion. Alongside multi-temporality we also wanted to draw attention to the ongoing archaeological processes of inscription and transformation (Fig. 6.5), but also to the role of the Acropolis as a site of memorialisation, a process that started in antiquity and continues up to the present: from the commemoration of the Philhellenes, to that of the thirteenth-century Catalans and Aragonese who are commemorated by a plaque installed in 2011, and to the removal of the swastika by Manolis Glezos and Lakis Santas in 1941, an event that has been seen as marking the beginning of resistance against the Nazi occupiers. We also consider the area around the Acropolis as part of the same monumental landscape, and we wanted to trace presences and absences on it, and at the same time foreground this landscape as a site of on-going contestation about aesthetics and politics, past and present (Fig. 6.6): this photograph, from the north slope of the Acropolis, draws attention to an unassuming and humble cement plinth, erected in front of what seems to be a void: an open, earthly rectangular space, occasionally a dumping ground, with a few rather anaemic plants struggling to establish a presence. Someone who looks closely will notice some inconspicuous architectural remnants, unearthed by archaeologists in 2004, and attributed to a small mosque that stood here, dating from the time of Ottoman Athens. he sign reads: ‘Küçuk Cami, Κιουτσούκ Τζαμί’, in Turkish and Greek, meaning ‘he Small Mosque’. At the time when this photograph was taken (2 June 2007), an attempt had been made to cross out the Greek word for mosque, whereas underneath the Turkish inscription, the phrase ‘Temple of Aphrodite’ had been written (in Greek) with chalk. A closer reading, however, would reveal yet another much smaller graito, in Turkish, next to the Turkish word for mosque: ‘evet doğru!’, ‘Of course!’ One needs to be reminded here that, for at least the last decade or so, one of the issues that occupies public debate in Athens is the lack of a legally recognised, functioning mosque for the ever increasing number of the city’s Muslim inhabitants. Drawing attention, through our photography, to this inconspicuous sign, is a reminder that the monumental, highly contested landscape of the Acropolis continuous to be central to many on-going debates and contestations in the broader public sphere. he same contestation also takes us inside the new museo-scape of oblivion, the Acropolis Museum, which attempts to direct the gaze towards the ‘Sacred Rock’, Figure 6.5 Fotis Ifantidis, he Acropolis as a site of inscription and commemoration source: Fotis Ifantidis © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 150 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes Figure 6.6 Fotis Ifantidis, A small mosque resurfaces at the foothill of the Acropolis (2-6-2007) source: Fotis Ifantidis hiding the perceived ugly modern blocks with screens and panels (Fig. 6.7). Here, the solitary, isolated statues positioned against the stark whiteness of the screen, contrasts sharply with the grey of the modern building blocks outside, their balconies decorated with air-conditioning units and redundant and abandoned furniture. he museum here is projected as an austere and pure heterotopia that looks up to the ‘Sacred Rock’, inviting its visitors to gaze at their ‘future anterior’ (cf. Preziosi 2003: 40). Unlike other interventions, such as the ones discussed above, the key members of this project are archaeologists with an interest in the aesthetics and politics of photography and its material, temporal, and mnemonic dimensions. As such, the venture attends to both the photographic and the archaeological, treating each domain with due sensitivity, and attempts to foreground and engender the combined mnemonic and temporal possibilities of both apparatuses. More speciically, the depiction of multi-temporal archaeological fragments is further enhanced by the multi-temporal afordances of the photographs themselves. Furthermore, the materiality of the archaeological artefacts and monuments and their sensorial and mnemonic attributes are further accentuated by the evocation of movement, tactility and embodied experience by the speciic photographs. hese photographs are not representations of the archaeological past, but evocations of its materiality, its sensorial dimension and its multi-temporal character. One could object that these are digital photographs and hence do not share the materiality and the sensorial afordances of analogue photographs. his thesis is reminiscent of the on-going debate in photographic theory on the consequences of digital technology (cf. Batchen 1997: 206–16; Ritchin 2009; papers in Wells 2003, esp. Lister) but it rests on shaky philosophical and empirical ground. For a start, photography is not exclusively about the inal product; it is instead a ‘photographic event’ (Azoulay 2008, 2012) or rather a photographic process which Figure 6.7 Fotis Ifantidis, At the new Acropolis Museum (25-10-2009) source: Fotis Ifantidis © Yannis Hamilakis and Fotis Ifantidis (2015) From Philip Carabott, Yannis Hamilakis and Eleni Papargyriou (eds), Camera Graeca: Photographs, Narratives, Materialities, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472424761 152 CaMera GraeCa: PHotoGraPHs, NarratIves, MaterIalItIes involves spaces and places, various social actors, as well as a technological apparatus. It often entails moving, multi-sensorially active bodies, engaging in various negotiations, positioning and re-positioning themselves vis-à-vis other bodies, things and artefacts, the light, the ambience, the weather, the soundscape and the surrounding mediascapes. Materiality, memory, and the senses are all crucial factors in these photographic events, irrespective of the speciic technology used, and we have tried to bring them into the fore in the disseminated photographs. Even the process of engaging with the produced digital photographs is mediated through materiality, be it that of the camera, the computer or smartphone screen, or paper, as many people prefer to print out digital photographs rather than experience them only through hardware media. Furthermore, in our case, in addition to the interactive photoblog, we have disseminated the photographs through photoessays in books (e.g. Hamilakis and Ifantidis 2013), as well as other publications such as this one. Besides, as we intimated earlier in this chapter, the digital process and the associated ease of retouching and computer manipulation of photographs, rather than signalling the death of the medium as some had predicted (e.g. Mitchell 1992) have resulted in its further lourishing and omnipresence,9 and have allowed us to foreground the situated and creative role of the photographer in any photographic venture. In his Pencil of Nature, Fox Talbot had felt it necessary to insert notes amongst his photographs declaring that ‘[t]he plates of the present work are impressed by the agency of Light alone, without any aid whatever from the artist’s pencil’ (Fox Talbot 1844), but in fact we know that the manipulation of photographs predates digital technology, and was present from the very beginning of the photographic medium (Fineman 2012). In he other acropolis project, rather than assuming any pretence of distance and ‘objectivity’, we have instead positioned our eforts within the contemporary social, aesthetic and political landscape, and have made it clear that our photographic endeavour aims at the photographic and archaeological de-monumentalisation of the site. Digital technology makes it also much easier for others to participate in the project by contributing their own photographs, and facilitates the wide dissemination of photographs in the public arena. Conclusion: from consensus to dissensus Jacques Rancière (2006) notes that aesthetics and politics share the same ontological ground; they are both about the distribution of the sensible, that is what is allowed to be seen and sensed and what is not. If that is the case, then he other acropolis is a political-cum-aesthetic project, a photographic-cum-archaeological activism. 9 As such, digital photographic technology can be now co-opted much more easily by state and other apparatuses for surveillance and suppression, as well as by opposing forces in their eforts to engender resistance and social change. tHe PHotoGraPHIC aNd tHe arCHaeoloGICal 153 Barthes notes in his Camera lucida that photographs can ‘block memory’ (1981: 91), and indeed oblivion is what both the photographic and the archaeological monumentalisation of the site has produced since the nineteenth century. Or to be more precise, both the photographic and the archaeological monumentalisation of the Acropolis have produced forgetting and remembering at the same time: they have contributed to the forgetting of the diverse lives of the site and its multi-temporal character, and they have instead evoked and helped disseminate a national-cumcolonial memory of a mono-chronic, sacred locale, a static, hieratic and auratic sight, to be experienced with reverence and from a distance. he other acropolis project generates a diferent, counter-modern political and aesthetic mnemonic production which foregrounds and invites both multi-sensoriality and multi-temporality. Such production requires a kinaesthetic and haptic visuality, as opposed to the dominant regime of autonomous vision. Its photographic artefacts work by evocation rather than representation; they engender presence and invite public reaction. he project, in other words, encourages a dissensual, rather than consensual aesthetic experience (cf. Rancière 2006). In a rapidly changing Athens, in a multi-cultural city like any other modern western capital, where its recent, often Muslim immigrants are subject to discrimination and xenophobic attacks, and where they still do not have their own, oicially recognised place of worship and cemetery, to produce such a dissensual experience, to evoke the multiple histories of the sacred icon of western imagination, including its Muslim and Ottoman material past, acquires both immense relevance and extreme urgency. 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