Journey and Change

Early on this semester, I somehow became infatuated with a performance art piece from 1988. Two artists--Marina Abromovic and Ulay--came up with an idea to walk the Great Wall of China, each starting at either end and meeting in the middle. Initially, their plan was to get married upon their reunion, but in the eight years it took to get the piece mounted their relationship was no longer up to the task. Instead they met in the middle, embraced, and went their separate ways. The symbolism of this piece is both fascinating and heartbreaking to me: two former lovers walking a national divide in the wake of global insecurity and isolation. Each one was burdened by his or her own journey, anxious to complete it even though the end of the piece is also the end of the union between the artists. The oft-quoted adage “life is a journey, not a destination” comes to mind when I think about this piece; the journey may be the important part, but everything still comes to an end. In one of my favorite books, a character has a near-death experience and has to traverse the confines of his soul. Neither he nor his guide know just when they’ll get to the other side of his soul, so to pass the time Virgil (the guide) tells a story. At the end of the story Fraser (the main character) finds the terrain of his soul to be changed, and he is later able to make it back to consciousness. Neither of these things may have a direct correlation to the Parthenon Marbles debate, but there are certainly parallels I cannot help but make. So often over the course of this semester, our class has lamented the fact that we can’t ask the marbles what they think. We can’t see how they felt when they were wrenched from their homeland, can’t feel with them as they describe their rough journey over land and ocean. But if we could, I don’t think they’d tell us what we would expect to hear. Almost 2,500 years have passed since the creation of the Parthenon Marbles. They’ve seen hundreds of years of war, destruction, and tourism. They’ve been divided, they’ve been moved, they’ve been bombed. The personal journeys of the marbles are staggering when you think of it. Like the replicant Ray Batty of Blade Runner, they’ve seen things we wouldn’t even believe. With this in mind, how can we say we know what’s best for them? Art conservation is a divisive, contentious enterprise. When Lord Elgin saved the Parthenon Marbles from what in his mind was almost certain demise, he was acting in part in the name of conservation. A few years ago a fresco in Spain was “restored” by an enthusiastic amateur. Even the Parthenon Marbles and the Parthenon itself have been deleteriously affected by efforts at conservation. All it takes is one person with good intentions to effectively ruin the experience of a work of art. Or at least change it. In my research during this course, a story stood out particularly to me, a true story about what happened to a painting in the National Gallery, London. The painting Venus at her Mirror (also called The Rokeby Venus) by Diego Velázquez was slashed multiple times by a woman in 1914. The National Gallery subsequently restored the painting, repairing the multiple slash marks and it is currently on display (and intact). What intrigues me about this painting is the erasure of history inherent in the restoration. The National Gallery website doesn’t even mention this very intriguing facet of the painting’s past. Tourists and art lovers who visit this gallery since the restoration of this painting will likely not even notice the change. A similar debate arose during the restoration of the Sistine Chapel fresco by Michelangelo. Years of previous restorations, additions, and attracted soot obscured the original image and the conservators had to decide what they were to clean and what was to remain. If we look at the debate over the marbles, we look at it from our present perspective. Much as Lord Elgin looked at the marbles and saw something that needed saving, we can’t help but look at them and make a decision in where they belong. The debate isn’t just between Greece and Britain; we are all entitled to participate. Each museum is dedicated to making the marbles available to the masses, and educating them on their cultural importance. I think that no matter what happens, we need to realize that they aren’t the same marbles that left Greece. They can’t be. They’ve traveled too far and meant far too much to far too many people. We can’t know where their journey has taken them, but we can recognize it. Stephen Fry had it right when he insisted that Britain do the “classy” thing and return the marbles. We can’t erase their history, but we can acknowledge it. Recommended Readings and Viewings: Thomas McEvilley - Art, Love, Friendship: Marina Abramovic and Ulay, Together & Apart (2010) Craig Ferguson - Between the Bridge and the River (2006) Blade Runner (1982) or Philip K. Dick - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968) Diego Velázquez - The Toilet of Venus (The Rokeby Venus) Michelangelo - The Sistine Chapel Fresco