Agamemnon’s version

Agamemnon’s version

Giovanna Baldasarre Center for Public Archaeology Studies ‘Archeostorie’ |  g.baldasarre@archeostoriejpa.eu The funeral of an Achaean king was performed according to a ritual sequence: immediately after death, before postmortem changes started to affect the features of the deceased, a goldsmith molded a gold funerary mask over his face. Relatives offered sacrifices, women sang mournful songs and the widow slit her throat to follow her husband into death. Then the bards (aoidoi), the memory specialists of that culture, performed the delicate task of connecting past and present, restoring hearing and sight to things that had gone deaf and blind. Yet, memory is too precious to be locked up in writing, and so these singing poets passed down orally the stories of ancient myths and heroes, perpetuating the...
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The Riace celebrities

The Riace celebrities

Giovanna Baldasarre Center for Public Archaeology Studies ‘Archeostorie’ |  g.baldasarre@archeostoriejpa.eu First thing first: it didn’t take much for the Riace Bronzes, recovered from the seafloor just a few decades ago, to be numbered among the world’s most popular ancient artworks – in the same league as, say, the Parthenon’s marbles or the Venus de Milo. There are multiple reasons for this incredible success: the extraordinary artistic quality of the statues and their material - which is bronze and not marble, like most of the Greek originals that have survived to this day; the gorgeous blending of classical beauty and strong virility that was achieved in the Bronzes; finally, the halo of mystery surrounding the statues, that has captured from the start popular imagination. Had the...
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Tonight, we’re sleeping at the museum!

Tonight, we’re sleeping at the museum!

Giovanna Baldasarre Archeokids |  g.baldasarre@gmail.com Sunday morning. It’s probably around six, maybe a bit later, and I think I’ve only slept for three hours at most. I squint in the dim light to figure out where I am because I’m definitely not at home — at least that much I remember. I look around and see beside me a glass display-case with huge baked-clay vases inside: kraters decorated with large masks. I also realise that I have spent the night in a sleeping bag (when’s the last time I used a sleeping bag? When I was twenty?) and maybe that’s why my back hurts. Then, all of a sudden, a small figure approaches, points his finger at my eye, nearly blinding me, and says: “I can’t fall...
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