Showing posts with label Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst. Show all posts

Drake's Munich Tour of the Classical World

  Will eventually get this page sorted...


The Glyptothek

Seen from the Propylaea in 1937 and with Drake Winston today
The interior in 1938 watercolours by Wilhelm August Hahn and today, including the Egyptian Room and after the war, necessitating the relocation of the Obelisk of Titus Sextius Africanus to the new Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst with Drake Winston standing in front.
Drake at the recently opened Aegyptisches Museum, showing the Horus, Thebes  Tomb of Amenopys III, New Kingdom, 18th Dynasty, circa 1360 BCE.

 The Barberini Faun in more extravagant surroundings in its pre-war restoration and today
Drake beside a copy in the Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke showing how it originally appeared before being provided with a reconstructed leg. When discovered in the 1620s in the moat below the Castel Sant'Angelo, Rome (which in Antiquity had been Hadrian’s Mausoleum), the statue was heavily damaged; the right leg, parts of both hands, and parts of the head were missing. The historian Procopius recorded that during the siege of Rome in 537 the defenders had hurled down upon the Goths the statues adorning Hadrian's Mausoleum, and Johann Winckelmann speculated that the place of discovery and the statue's condition suggested that it had been such a projectile. It was traditionally asserted that Cardinal Maffeo Barberini commissioned Gianlorenzo Bernini to restore the statue, "but there is no evidence for the tradition that Bernini was in any way involved with the statue," Francis Haskell and Nicholas Penny observed in 1981, after reviewing the documentation and literature. Restorations, at first in stucco, were remade in 1679 by Giuseppe Giorgetti and Lorenzo Ottoni, who enabled the antique left leg to be reaffixed and provided the elaborate supporting structure that is illustrated in Paolo Alessandro Maffei's Raccolta di statue (1704); in the eighteenth century the right leg was again restored in marble, and once more by Pacetti in 1799. (The sculpture is shown today without the restored hanging left arm.)
Barberini Faun
The Barberini Faun in its pre-war restoration and today with Drake Winston. Found in Rome in the 1620s during restoration to the fortifications of the Castel Sant'Angelo, the ancient Mausoleum of Hadrian, it was missing most of its right leg, sections of the left leg, the lower part of its left arm, and pieces of the base. It was restored multiple times during its history, notably by Giuseppe Giorgetti and Lorenzo Ottoni in the seventeenth century, and then again by Vincenzo Pacetti at the end of the eighteenth century. Originally, it appears that the statue was displayed in a seated position, but a print from 1642 indicates that at some point it was reoriented and placed in a reclining position. In 1679 Giorgetti and Ottoni reattached the ancient left leg, filled in missing sections of the base, and provided a right leg and left arm made of stucco. The statue was then displayed in a seated position once again. In 1799 Pacetti created a new right leg and left arm for the Faun and modified the base causing the position of the Faun to shift again, but still in a seated position until the 1960s, when the Glyptothek removed Pacetti's restorations in order to return the statue to its appearance at the time of the discovery. However, the museum's later analyses determined that Pacetti's restoration and choice of seated position had been mostly correct and so the restored right leg was returned to the statue, whilst the hanging left arm was left unattached.
As it appeared after being transferred to the Zentralministerium's Luftschutzkeller on Ludwigstrasse
The over-lifesize Medusa Rondanini, the best late Hellenistic or Augustan Roman marble copy of the head of Medusa, is rendered more humanized and beautiful than the always grotesque apotropaic head of Medusa that appeared as the Gorgoneion on the aegis of Athena. It was purchased by the art-loving king Ludwig of Bavaria from the heirs of the marchese Rondanini, during his Grand Tour of Italy as a prince. The Medusa Rondanini may be a Roman copy of a classical work of the fifth century BCE, a model attributed to one or another Athenian sculptor of the age of Phidias. Alternatively, it may have been modeled after a classicising Hellenistic work of the late fourth century BCE. If it is of the fifth century, Janer Danforth Belson has pointed out, it is the first of the "beautiful gorgoneion" type to appear in Greek art by more than a century, and unparalleled in any contemporaneous representation of the Medusa head. Martin Robertson, following Furtwängler's attribution to Phidias, remarked that it would be unlikely for the beautiful face of the Medusa to be juxtaposed with the beautiful face of the goddess, whose gorgoneion retained its fearful archaic appearance.  Janer Danforth Belson has made a case for its model to have been the gorgoneion on a gilt-bronze aegis that was an ex-voto of Antiochus IV and was hung on the south retaining wall of the Acropolis of Athens about 170 BC, where it was noted by Pausanias in the late second century CE.  Six other ancient replicas of the same prototype, apparently a bronze, have been recorded, none of them of this quality.
"[T]he mere knowledge that such a work could be created and still exists in the world makes me feel twice the person I was ... If I can get hold of a good cast of this Medusa, I shall bring it back with me..."
Goethe, Italian Journey 
Äginetensaal then and now,The Äginetensaal then and now, housing the marbles from the Late Archaic temple of Aphaia, comprising the sculptural groups of the east and west pediments.  After the building's destruction during the air raids on Munich in the Second World War reconstruction was finally begun in 1947 with the reopening taking place in 1972. The frescoes executed by Peter Cornelius between 1820 and 1830 such as Die Götter Griechenlands had been destroyed and were not restored, but rather isolated fragments were preserved and are held in the National Gallery in Berlin. The Assyrian Hall built by Klenze in the courtyard in 1864 was not restored after the war; the eight Assyrian Orthostat reliefs from the palace of king Ashur-nasir-pal II and the Babylonian lion from the Ishtar Gate were moved into the Staatliche Sammlung für Ägyptische Kunst. The large column in the inner courtyard is from the former vestibule of the opposite building, which had sadly been reconstructed in the careless modern fashion.
Trojanischer Saal  then now

The Trojanischer Saal as it appeared before the war and today. Hitler and his followers were fascinated with antiquity (hence the classical style of Troost's party buildings). The Königsplatz was called Acropolis Germaniae (in a startling reminder of Ludwig's Athens on the Isar), and Hitler claimed, "Never has mankind been nearer to antiquity in appearance and sensibility than today." This last point was made visually in Hans W. Fischer's 1935 book Menschenschönheit, which juxtaposed works of art with photographs of contemporary people, mainly athletes. In one two-page spread, a warrior from the east pediment at Aegina was juxtaposed with a modern javelin thrower. 


The Äginetensaal then and now, housing the marbles from the Late Archaic temple of Aphaia, comprising the sculptural groups of the east and west pediments. Restored by the Danish neoclassic sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen, they exerted a formative influence on the local character of Neoclassicism in Munich, as exhibited in the architecture of Leo von Klenze. Each pediment centred on the figure of Athena, with groups of combatants, fallen warriors, and arms filling the decreasing angles of the pediments. The theme shared by the pediments was the greatness of Aigina as shown by the exploits of its local heroes in the two Trojan wars, one lead by Heracles against Laomedon and a second lead by Agamemnon against Priam. According to the standard myths, Zeus raped the nymph Aigina, who bore the first king of the island, Aiakos. This king had the sons Telamon (father of the Homeric hero Ajax) and Peleus (father of the Homeric hero Achilles). The sculptures preserve extensive traces of a complex paint scheme, and are crucial for the study of painting on ancient sculpture. The marbles are finished even on the back surfaces of the figures, despite the fact that these faced the pediment and were thus not visible.
Romersaal after its destruction and  today    “Apollo Barberini”
 The Romersaal after its destruction and its less-august surroundings today. On the right is the so-called “Apollo Barberini” within its rebuilt room. The musician god holds in his left arm the “kithara” and in his right one a cup (the right arm and the left front arm were worked separately). Its eyes are of white stone and lashes in bronze (the iris and pupils, lost, were made in coloured materials). It is probably a Roman copy of the cult statue in the temple of Apollo Palatinus in Rome from 1st–2nd century.
Reconstruction of the archaic Western pediment of the Temple of Aphaia at Aegina from Adolf Furtwängler: Aegina. Das Heiligtum der Aphaia, Munich 1906
The first Trojan war, not the one described by Homer but the war of Heracles against the king of Troy Laomedon is the theme of the Wesern pediment, with Telamon figuring prominently as he fights alongside Heracles against king Laomedon. This pediment is thought to be later than the west pediment and to show a number of features appropriate to the Classical period: the statues show a dynamic posture especially in the case of Athena, chiastic composition, and intricate filling of the space using the legs of fallen combatants to fill the difficult decreasing angles of the pediment. Part of the eastern pediment was destroyed during the Persian Wars, possibly by a thunderbolt. The statues that survived were set up in the sanctuary enclosure, and those that were destroyed, were buried according to the ancient custom. The old composition was replaced by a new one with a scene of a battle, again with Athena at the centre.
Eastern pediment

The second Trojan war – the one described by Homer – is the theme, with Ajax (son of Telamon) figuring prominently. The style of these sculptures is that of the Archaic period. The composition deals with the decreasing angles of the pediment by filling the space using a shield and a helmet.

With the so-called “Munich Diomedes”, a Roman copy after a Greek original from ca. 440–430 BC, attributed to Kresilas. The figure of Diomedes radiates determination and self- confidence, his head turned assuredly to one side. It depicts the Greek hero Diomedes who according to legend played a decisive role in the Trojan War.
Bust of Athena, type of the “Velletri Pallas” (inlaid eyes are lost). Copy of the 2nd century CE after a votive statue of Kresilas in Athens (ca. 430–420 BCE). The same type on display in the Louvre, and as digitally processed by the artist duo Friederike van Lawick and Hans Müller.
The Alexander Rondanini. The original belongs to a group created by Euphranor: King Philip of Macedon on his chariot lead by 4 horses; his son Alexander, taking on the chariot, holds the reins in both hands (armour and garb added by the copyist). Creation of the group after the Battle of Chaeronea, 338 BCE. It had been acquired in 1814 from the Rondanini Palace in Rome
 In front of the wooden model of the Roman forum for the special exhibition Im Zentrum der Macht in the room of Roman busts.
1945 and today
Showing the supposed busts of Marius and Sulla with that of Augustus in the foreground. In the background is the so-called “Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus” or “Statue Base of Marcus Antonius”, a relief frieze of a monumental statue group base depicting a sea thiasos (the ecstatic retinue of Dionysus, often pictured as inebriated revellers) for the wedding of Poseidon and Amphitrite, 2nd half of the 2nd century BCE. It was probably from the temple to Neptune commisioned by Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus after a naval victory, perhaps the one won off Samos in 129 or 128 against Aristonicus who had attempted to oppose the donation of Pergamon to Rome by the will of King Attalos III. The construction of the temple (or restoration of a pre-existing temple) only dates to 122 BCE, the year in which Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus attained the consulship. In 41 BCE Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus (descendant of the aforementioned), a supporter of the Republican party and of the assassins of Caesar had an aureus minted on the occasion of a victory over a supporter of Octavian, which featured the image of his ancestor on the obverse and a tetrastyle temple on the reverse, with the inscription NEPT CN DOMITIUS L F IMP (Cn. Domitius, son of Lucius, Imperator, to Neptune.
At the centre of the scene, Neptune and Amphitrite are seated in a chariot drawn by two Tritons who dance to music. They are accompanied by a multitude of fantastic creatures, Tritons and Nereides who form a retinue for the wedding couple. At the left, a Nereid riding on a sea-bull carries a present. To her right, the mother of Amphitrite, Doris, advances towards the couple, mounted on a sea-horse and holding wedding torches in each hand to light the procession's way. To her right is an Eros, a creature associated with Venus. Behind the wedding couple, a Nereid, accompanied by two more Erotes and riding a hippocamp, carries another present. The reliefs are mentioned in 1629 and 1631 after having been uncovered during the works undertaken by the Roman Santacroce family between 1598 and 1641.
The impressive Aion mosaic, the central part of a large floor mosaic from a Roman villa in Sentinum (now known as Sassoferrato), ca. 200–250 BCE. Aion, the god of eternity, is shown standing within a celestial sphere decorated with zodiac signs, in between a green tree and a bare tree (summer and winter, respectively). Sitting in front of him is the mother-earth goddess, Tellus (the Roman counterpart of Gaia) with her four children, who possibly represent the four seasons. For the Romans the syncretic Aion became a symbol and guarantor of the perpetuity of Roman rule, and emperors such as Antoninus Pius issued coins with the legend Aion, whose female Roman counterpart was Æternitas. Roman coins associate both Aion and Æternitas with the phœnix as a symbol of rebirth and cyclical renewal.
Bust of Trajan with the Civic Crown, a sword belt and the aegis (attribute of Jupiter and symbol of divine power).
Drake beneath the busts of Hadrian (with that of his beloved Antinous behind) and Marcus Aurelius.

In Book XXXIV of his Natural History, Pliny writes about this statue- "Boethus although more celebrated for his works in silver, has executed a beautiful figure of a child strangling [embracing?] a goose." Here Drake is beside the copies in Munich and Rome.
Beside copies of the Drunken Old Woman in Munich (above) and in Rome (below). Created in the Hellenistic period, the exact time of its creation cannot be determined but is generally dated to the late third century BCE. The bulky, blocky composition and the pyramidal structure is comparable to the Scythians of the Marsyas Flayer Group, which is dated to the first half of the second century BCE and to the figure of the Goose strangler, which is dated to the middle or later third century BCE, both of which share the same space.  The copy in Munich is dated to the first century CE and is considered the better copy whilst that in the Capitoline is dated to the second century CE. According to Pliny the original version of the statue was displayed at Smyrna in Asia Minor. In book 36 of his Natural History, he lists 32 significant marble artworks which were not located in Rome, including an anus ebria (Drunken crone") said to have been made by Myron of Thebes which he incorrectly equates with the homonymous sculptor Myron who lived in the fifth century BCE. Alexandria has been suggested as a second possible location of the original on account of the lagynos which the old woman holds in front of herself. The lagynos was the source of the name of the lagynophoria, the flask-festival, which was founded by Ptolemy IV.  The statue of the Old Drunkard in the Munich Glyptothek was in the possession of Cardinal Ottoboni in Rome from 1700 and at the time was among the best known antiquities in the city. Leo von Klenze refused to admit the Old Drunkard into the Glyptothek when it was established by King Ludwig I. In 1895 the statue was finally put on display in the Munich Glyptothek by Adolf Furtwängler, in the "Roman gallery" rather than with the Greek sculpture. Today the sculpture is counted among the show-pieces of the collection, along with the Barberini Faun and the Boy with the Goose.
The sculpture depicts an aged woman, who squats on the ground and holds an open flask in her lap. At a height of around 92 centimetres, the statue is about life size. The woman sits on the ground and extends her legs in front of herself and crosses her ankles such that the left leg sits in front of the right one. She holds the lagynos flask in her lap, grasping it tightly around the neck and belly. The flask which presumably holds unmixed win, is decorated with an ivy vine pattern.  The woman is dressed in a chiton which would be secured with metal pins and which is girded round the middle of the body with a belt. The right pin has slipped off her shoulder, leaving her upper body uncovered, without exposing her breast. The motif of the pin which has slipped off the shoulder traditionally had erotic connotations and appears especially in depictions of the goddess of love, Aphrodite. Over the chiton, the woman wore a heavy cloak, which has fallen to the ground and piles up around her. The woman's clothing recalls contemporary fashion. The same clothing is also found in depictions of Aphrodite and Nymphs, and also of distinguished women of the time.  On the exposed upper body, the collar bone and ribs emerge from the Décolletage, as do the shoulder blades and the spinal column at the back. The skin is stretched in a thin sheet over the skeleton and the underlying muscles, veins and tendons are depicted in an anatomically correct way. A thick vein runs up her neck directly under the skin and disappears into a jowl under her chin.  Pierced ears indicate golden earrings, which would have been inserted. A headscarf holds her hair out of her face. The head is raised, mouth is slightly open and her eyes stare off into space. Her skin is loose and hangs in folds over her cheeks and jaw. The Nasolabial fold is pronounced and crow's feet surround the eyes. The open mouth exposes two remaining teeth. The woman's hair is carefully styled, wrapped at the sides and gathered up with a band above the neck. Her headscarf is carefully wrapped around her head; a few locks peep out under it, as if by accident. She wears two rings on her left hand, one on her pointing finger and one on her ringfinger, which implies that she was wealthy and had some social status.

Staatliche Antikensammlungen

 During the annual commemorative marches past the Glyptothek and Antikensammlungen
The State Collections of Antiques in the Kunstareal of Munich is a museum for the Bavarian state's antique collections for Greek, Etruscan and Roman art. The Bavarian state collection of Ancient Egyptian art is traditionally placed in its own museum.  The neo-classical building at Königsplatz with Corinthian columns was established in 1848 as counterpart to the opposite Glyptothek and commissioned by the Bavarian King Ludwig I; the swastikas around its entrance date from this time.  The architect was Georg Friedrich Ziebland. Already from 1869 to 1872 the building housed the royal antiquarium before the Munich Secession resided here from 1898 to 1912. From 1919 the building contained the New State Gallery. The museum building was severely damaged by bombing in World War II when it especially lost its Etruscan pottery, which was stored in the bombed Neue Pinakothek. It was eventually reconstructed and reopened to the public in the late 1960s to display the State Collection of Antiques. 

Furious Maenad, carrying a thyrsus and a leopard, with a snake rolled up over her head. Tondo of an Ancient Greek Attic white-ground kylix 490–480 BCE by the Brygos Painter, provenance Vulci.

Dionysiac thiasos. Attic red-figure pointed amphora by the Kleophrades Painter, the name given to the anonymous red-figure Athenian vase painter who was active from approximately 510 – 470 BCE and whose work, considered amongst the finest of the red figure style, is identified by its stylistic traits such as the expressive emotions of his characters, and through study of his painted faces. The eyes of his figures are often drawn rather long and slender, accompanied by strong chins, and a unique way of showing the inner detail of the ear.
Akhilleus Penthesileia- Achilles killing Penthesilea. Tondo of an Attic red-figure kylix, 470–460 BCE from Vulci. Here Achilles plunges his sword into the Amazon's chest, as she falls to the ground. Penthesilea pushes against Achilles's arm and chest, trying to keep him from pushing his sword deeper; she gazes up into his face, as he stares down into hers, but except for Penthesilea's hands, they do not touch one another. Achilles is nude except for his armour: greaves, a helmet, and a mantle draped over his back; he carries a shield and a scabbard over his shoulder. Although the scene is the fight for Troy, Penthesilea is unarmed, wearing only a short chiton with short sleeves, a headband, and jewellery: earrings, bracelets and an ankle bracelet. To the right, bent around the lower right edge of the cup, is a fallen Amazon in Scythian costume, in frontal view with her hands clasped above her head and with her left leg outstretched, her right bent behind her. Penthesilea in a Greek dress (due to her emotional bond with Achilles), while the other Amazon is shown with a non-Greek dress. On the left, a standing warrior wearing a helmet, cuirass, greaves and a mantle and holding a spear and sword. These additional characters force Achilles and Penthesilea into the foreground of the scene. 
Oedipus and the Sphinx. Attic red-figure amphora, 440–430 BC. From Nola by the Achilles Painter. Sir John Beazley attributed over 200 vases to his hand, the largest share being red-figure and white-ground lekythoi. In his middle phase (ca. 450-445 BCE), he decorates more open forms. The Achilles Painter was a late pupil of the Berlin Painter. Beazley describes him thus:      
He is the great master of the white lekythos. His red-figure vases nearly always have a sober beauty, but few of them–like the pointed amphora in the Cabinet des Médailles–reach the height of his best white lekythoi, which are among the masterpieces of ancient drawing.
Black figure Kylix (the most usual style of wine drinking cup in ancient Greece featuring a shallow two-handled bowl on a short stem) depicting Dionysus crossing the sea, ca. 530 BCE by Exekias which is roughly 4.5 inches in diameter. Dionysus, robed, reclines in the ship, round whose mast a grape-laden vine entwines itself. It depicts the god of wine on a ship with Pirates, who tried to abduct him. He transformed them all into dolphins and made vine leaves spring from the mast to act as sails. Dionysus personified man’s earthly passions. Here the crew have already leaped into the sea and have been transformed into dolphins. Ovid tells the story in the Metamorphoses (3.582-691).  
Herakles and Linos with the description I had to photograph:
Lehrer Tot- Schule Aus (Teacher Dead, School Out)
  Linos was killed by Heracles during a musical lesson because he reprimanded his pupil for making mistakes. This painture shows the lesson room, four pupils and the young Heracles seized by anger against his teacher. The hero overwhelms his master and bits him with a leg of a destroyed chair. Linos tries to hold out the aggressor with his hand and his lyre provides just a weak and disparate resistance to Herakles’s impetuosity. 
    The grave stele of Aristion. Drake in front of the funerary stele of an Athenian warrior (Aristion) wearing the kynê (a type of cap made of leather) from around 520 BCE.Beside it is a reconstruction of the original polychromy. Dad is next to the copy of the stele of fallen Athenian hoplite warriors at Marathon.
 Model of Delphi and Dad at the actual site

 Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke München (Haus der Kulturinstitute)
 On Meiserstrasse 10 (across from the offices of the Fuehrer's deputy) is the NSDAP Central Office, now the Museum für Abgüsse Klassischer Bildwerke München (Haus der Kulturinstitute); the photo on the right shows the remains of a 'temple of honour' overgrown with vegetation. Identical to the Fuehrerbau to which it is linked by a 105 metre tunnel, this was the office of the Reich treasurer and where filing cabinets held the information for 8.5 million party members which would later prove crucial for the Americans' denazification process. It later held much of the stolen art eventually recovered.
The Central Collecting Point in Munich was designated to primarily hold ERR loot, Hitler and Goering’s collections, and other works found in the Altaussee salt mine. The photos above from Robert Edsel's blog show the Munich Collecting Point before repairs were made in June 1945 and how it appeared during this period. 
Rodin's Burghers of Calais at the site after the war.  Fittingly the building today serves as a museum for classical replicas:
Christmas 1937 and today- the building remains completely unchanged.
Even the lights and hand rails are unchanged
 Laocoön and His Sons as it appeared between c. 1540 and 1957, with Laocoön's extended arm; the sons' restored arms were removed in the 1980s and the original in the Vatican Museum. Drake beside the copy, clearly influenced by the 19th century reconstruction with his mother beside the actual piece at the Vatican. 
Sixteenth-century drawing showing the group of Laocöon as it was found missing arms after it had been discovered on January 14, 1506. Giuliano da Sangallo and Michelangelo Buonarroti were amongst the first to see the statue and propose a hypothesis for the original form of the missing arms, noting from the remaining traces that the missing right arms of the father and of his son were raised and that the snake seemed to have been around the father’s right arm and its tail around the son’s arm. They also thought that the father might have had some weapon in his hand. The statue was soon brought to the collection of the Vatican Belvedere, and Bramante organized a competition inviting four artists to model it in wax. Raphael was amongst the judges and he considered that the young Sansovino had far surpassed the others. So, by the advice of Cardinal Domenico Grimani, Bramante dicided that Jacopo’s model should be cast in bronze. Sansovino was the first restorer of the statue integrating the missing parts - probably in gypsum. It seems that the arm of Laocoon was bent towards the head in this restoration. A few years later, Baccio Bandinelli, who had been commissioned to make a replica in marble, made a new repair for the arm of Laocoon, which had broken off in the meantime. He made the arm stretch upwards much more than had Sansovino. Bandinelli proudly claimed he had surpassed the antiques with his replica, but Michelangelo commented: “Who follows others, will never pass in front of them, and who is not able to do well himself, cannot make good use of the works of others.” In 1532, Michelangelo recommended one of his collaborators, Fra Giovanni Angiolo Montorsoli, to restore some broken statues in the Belvedre including the left arm of Apollo and the right arm of Laocoon. The work was accorded “the greatest affection” by the pope. Laocoon’s arm was made in terracotta and pointed straight; this gave strong diagonal movement to the statue, differing greatly from the original closed expression with a bent arm (as was later discovered).
Drake by The Tyrannicides, and his father between the marble copy dating 477-476 BCE in the Museo Nazionale Archeologico in Naples, based on the bronze original erected in the Agora, Athens.
The Dying Gaul and beside the real copy on the Capitoline in Rome
The Barberini Faun and the original nearby in the Glyptothek with reconstructed leg
Copies of the Farnese Hercules from an original by Lysippos (or one of his circle) that would have been made in the fourth century BCE. The enlarged copy was made for the Baths of Caracalla in Rome (dedicated in 216 AD), where the statue was recovered in 1546, and is now in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples. It depicts a muscular, yet weary, Hercules leaning on his club, which has the skin of the Nemean lion draped over it. In myths about Heracles, killing the lion was his first task. He has just performed one of the last of The Twelve Labours, which is suggested by the apples of the Hesperides he holds behind his back.  The sculpture has been reassembled and restored by degrees. According to a letter of Guglielmo della Porta, the head had been recovered separately, from a well in Trastevere, and was bought for Farnese through the agency of della Porta, whose legs made to complete the figure were so well-regarded that when the original legs were recovered from ongoing excavations in the Baths of Caracalla, della Porta's were retained, on Michelangelo's advice, in part to demonstrate that modern sculptors could bear direct comparison with the ancients. The original legs, from the Borghese collection, were not reunited with the sculpture until 1787. Goethe, in his Italian Journey, recounts his differing impressions upon seeing the Hercules with each set of legs, however, marvelling at the clear superiority of the original ones. In 1590–91, during his trip to Rome, Hendrik Goltzius sketched the statue in the palazzo courtyard. Later (in 1591) Goltzius recorded the less-common rear view, in a bravura engraving (illustration, right), which emphasises the already exaggerated muscular form with swelling and tapering lines that flow over the contours. The young Rubens made quick sketches of the planes and massing of the statue of Hercules. The sculpture was admired from the start, reservations about its exaggerated musculature only surfacing in the later eighteenth century.
Myron's Discobolus and the version in the National Roman Museum at the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme
 The Arch of Titus
Visiting again with my parents and little Drake Winston in front of a copy in Munich
The Augustus of Prima Porta with the original and as it might have originally appeared in colour- "something that looks like a cross-dresser trying to hail a taxi... I'm vehemently against any notion that people in the past were stupid or didn't have taste" argues Fabio Barry, an art historian at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.
The so-called Ares Borghese, a 2.11m high Roman marble statue of the imperial era (1st or 2nd century AD). Although also identified as Achilles, it is identifiable as Ares by the helmet and by the ankle ring given him by his lover Aphrodite. This statue possibly preserves some features of an original work in bronze, now lost, of the 5th century BC.  It has been thought that this statue may be derived from one by Alcamenes, an Athenian sculptor who, according to Pausanias (I, 8, 4), made a statue of Ares that was erected on the Athenian agora. However, the temple of Ares to which he refers had only been moved from Acharnes and re-sited in the Agora in Augustus's time, making this a chronological impossibility. Also, statues known to derive from Alcamenes' statue show the god in a breastplate (one is depicted in this relief). So, in all, this statue may not be a copy of Alcamenes's, but instead a Roman creation according to a classicising or Neo-Attic type.  Later, widely dispersed, this type was paired with female statues of the Venus de Milo type for portraits of the imperial Roman couple, symbol of the union between military and peace, such as the Mars and Venus. Formerly part of the Borghese collection, it was purchased from there in 1807 by Napoleon.
 Herakles and the Cretan Bull  and aided by Athena holding up the heavens whilst Atlas fetches the golden apples.
Herakles, in the course of his labours, is shown reacting to a variety of experiences and, as he does so, growing old. In the first of the labours depicted in the cycle, his battle with the Nemean lion, he had been shown as a beardless youth with a creased brow and downcast look designed to express the worry and exhaustion that followed his initial struggle. (The head can be seen in the archaeological museum in Olympia.) In the last metope of the cycle, exhibited here, by contrast, we see him at the end of his labours as a mature, calm, full-bearded figure who temporarily takes the world on his shoulders while the giant Atlas brings forward the apples of the Hesperides. The metope beautifully captures what the Greeks of the early classical period saw as important in their own experience. Herakles has been tested by adversity, has prevailed, has grown in understanding, and has in the end attained a kind of mature philosophical calm.
 Buitron-Oliver (35-36)
Herakles Cleaning the Augean Stables from a metope from the temple of Zeus at Olympia and the original in the Archaeological Museum, Olympia.
This relief, a metope placed on the east end of the temple, represents the last of Herakles' labours: obtaining the golden apples of immortality. The hero stands in the centre holding up the heavens with the help of his patron goddess Athena. The giant Atlas, who normally supported the skies, had been persuaded to fetch the golden apples from a tree in the garden of the Hesperides, where they were guarded by a dragon, and now he has returned and is presenting them to Herakles. Only Atlas knew the location of the garden, which was popularly imagined to have been in the far west of the known world, beyond the Atlas mountains in North Africa, as the names Hesperides and Atlas suggest.
The composition draws attention to the apples by contrasting the three verticals of the figures with the horizontal of the outstretched arms of Atlas. The rigid verticals of Athena and Herakles emphasise the weight of the heavens, which is enhanced by the folded cushion Herakles uses to help distribute the load. The cushion also brings the figure of the hero level with the goddess and the giant.
Successful completion of the twelve labours was to bring immortality to the mortal hero Herakles as the symbolism here makes clear, for the golden apples were apples from the tree of life.
Copy of the 1st century CE bust of Pompeius Magnus at the New Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen
Alexander the Great; the bust on the left based on the so-called Hermes Azara attributed to Lysippos - doubtless the statue of Alexander with a bronze lance mentioned by Plutarch- in the Louvre.
Drake beside two copies of the Four Tetrarchs, a porphyry sculpture group of four Roman emperors dating from around 300 CE. Since the Middle Ages it has been fixed to a corner of the façade of St Mark's Basilica in Venice beside which is Dad.
The Apollon of Olympia, part of the group of sculptures found in the west pediment of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia currently in the archaeological museum in Olympia where Dad had his photo taken in front of the real thing.  The sculptures of the west pediment depicted the battle of the Lapiths against the Centaurs, following the wedding feast of Peirithous and Hippodamia. The battle of the Lapiths - legendary inhabitants of Thessaly - against the Centaurs - wild forest inhabitants with a human upper half and the body of a horse - frequently acted as a mythological metaphor for the conflicts between the Greeks and the Barbarians. Most of the figures in this turbulent battle scene were discovered during the German excavations of 1875, led by the archaeologist Georg Treu.  The juvenile Apollo stood in the centre of the pediment, directing his gaze toward the Lapiths. With his outstretched right arm, he seemed to order an end to the iniquity: the Centaurs had betrayed the Lapiths' hospitality, drunk to excess, and kidnapped their women. Nevertheless, his inclusion appears to be merely figurative; the combatants seem ignorant of his presence, with no other figure in the pediment referring, either in their motion or gesture, to the appearance of the god. 
Behind Drake and Apollo is a copy of the famous Artemision Bronze which was recovered from the sea off Cape Artemision, in northern Euboea. It represents either Zeus or Poseidon, at slightly over lifesize and would have held either a thunderbolt, if Zeus, or a trident if Poseidon, depending on the lost attribute held in the figure's right hand. As Caroline Houser writes, "Sometimes the Artemision protector is called 'Poseidon'. Those who would do so have been known to argue that the image must be that of the great sea god since the statue was found in the Mediterranean. But like other statues of totally different subjects, this one went into the sea simply because it was on board a ship that sank. Others cite the example of the Poseidonia coins, overlooking the much weightier evidence presented by the numerous surviving statuettes of Zeus launching his thunderbolt in a pose matching that of the Artemision figure." A major additional problem with that hypothesis is that a trident would obscure the face, especially from the profile view, and comparisons with coins and vase paintings from the same time show such an obscuring pose is extremely unlikely. On the other hand, the statue is essentially a larger version of an extensive series of smaller solid bronze figurines extending back into the late 7th century, all of which strike the same pose and represent Zeus and therefore most scholars identify it as Zeus. Nevertheless, Carol Mattusch argues that "the figure has the potential for violence, is concentrating, poised to throw, but the action is just beginning, and we are left to contemplate the coming demonstration of strength."
Dad in Xi'an in front of the Terracotta Warriors with Drake next to copies showing their original colour as determined by Catharina Blänsdorf, an expert on conservation at the Technical University in Munich.

Dad at the Ara Pacis in Rome with Drake in front of a copy of the south wall from which H. Dütschke proposed in 1880 the correct identity for Antonia and Drusus, but incorrectly saw the toddler as Claudius. Von Domaszewski amended this family identification and correctly saw the child as Germanicus, also suggesting that the Ara Pacis is arranged in family groups thus determining that the two-year-old child could be only Germancius, whose exact birth in 24 May 15 BC is known. This helps prove that the ceremony is an event in 13, although a few scholars continued to argue the ceremony was that of 9 BC (until definitive proof in favour of 13 came out in 1939).
Diana of Versailles and the original copy
Copy of the Athena statue from the Aphaea temple at Aegina, c. 490 BCE with it in its rest of the Athena statue from the Aphaea temple at Aegina, c. 490 BC from the exposition “Bunte Götter” by the Munich Glyptothek

Copy of the Charioteer of Delphi, also known as Heniokhos (Greek: Ηνίοχος, the rein-holder), one of the best-known statues surviving from Ancient Greece and considered one of the finest examples of ancient bronze statues. The life-size (1.8m) statue of a chariot driver was found in 1896 at the Sanctuary of Apollo in Delphi (shown on left with an excavator actually shown standing on its base) and is now in the Delphi Archaeological Museum where Drake managed to see the real thing.



Among the Glytothek's most significant exhibits are the figures from the Temple of Aegina, restored by the Danish sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen in the early 19th century. Thorvaldsen's restorations have been a subject of considerable debate among scholars, with some praising his efforts to revive the classical spirit, whilst others criticise his interpretations as overly imaginative and lacking in historical accuracy. 

King Laomedon, also known as the "Dying Hoplite", in its restored and current 'de-restored' version.

Showing pieces then and today, clearly showing their radical restoration. When the sculptures eventually made their way to the Glyptothek, which at that time was the first public classic archaeology museum, they did so after first being extensively and controversially restored in 1815 by the great Danish sculptor, Bertel Thorvaldsen, who began work on completing the missing sections of the sculptures in the classical style in a misguided attempt to present them as wholly intact and complete statues. As early as the late 19th century, however, these restorations were the subject of controversial debate and they were finally completely removed in 1963–1965 through a process of de-restoring the sculptures to their original fragmentary state. Other fragments from the temple were subsequently recovered and are now in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. Furtwangler and Urlichs have this to say about the restoration: "Beside the harmonious completeness and rhythmic variety of the two pediments the scattered and defective parts of the original appear dull and tedious,” going on to write how their "restoration was carried out in Rome under Thorvaldsen’s guidance in marble -von Wagner restored only the torsos-, in the manner of the time without much reverence for the pieces preserved.” In fact, Furtwangler is reported as having described the restoration “the darkest hour in the Aegina figures’ history.” 


Thorvaldsen's restorations of the Aegina sculptures were a product of the 19th-century Romantic movement, which sought to revive the classical spirit in art and architecture. Thorvaldsen, a leading figure in this movement, was renowned for his ability to capture the aesthetic qualities of ancient Greek sculpture. His restorations of the Aegina figures, therefore, were not merely an attempt to repair damaged artefacts, but a conscious effort to recreate the perceived beauty and grandeur of the classical world. Ridgway, a prominent scholar in the field of classical art, has argued that Thorvaldsen's restorations were instrumental in shaping contemporary perceptions of ancient Greek sculpture. According to Ridgway, Thorvaldsen's work on the Aegina figures helped to popularise the idea of the 'Greek ideal' - a notion of aesthetic perfection based on harmony, balance, and the idealisation of the human form. This concept, Ridgway argues, has had a profound influence on subsequent generations of artists and scholars, shaping our understanding of ancient Greek art and its aesthetic principles. However, Ridgway also points out that Thorvaldsen's restorations were heavily influenced by his own artistic style and the aesthetic preferences of his time. As a result, the restored figures bear the unmistakable imprint of 19th-century Romanticism, with its emphasis on emotion, individualism, and the sublime. This has led to criticisms that Thorvaldsen's restorations are more reflective of his own artistic vision than the original intent of the ancient Greek sculptors. 

In this context, Boardman's critique of Thorvaldsen's work is particularly noteworthy. Boardman contends that Thorvaldsen's restorations, while artistically impressive, lack historical accuracy and authenticity. He points out that the Aegina figures, like many ancient Greek sculptures, were originally painted in vibrant colours, a fact that Thorvaldsen's monochromatic restorations fail to acknowledge. Moreover, Boardman argues that Thorvaldsen's emphasis on idealised beauty and harmony is at odds with the more realistic and individualistic style of the original Aegina sculptures. Boardman's critique highlights a key issue in the field of art restoration: the tension between artistic interpretation and historical fidelity. Whilst Thorvaldsen's restorations are undeniably beautiful and have contributed to the popularisation of classical aesthetics, they may also have distorted our understanding of the original Aegina sculptures and their cultural context. This raises important questions about the role and responsibilities of the restorer, and the extent to which restoration should be guided by contemporary aesthetic standards or historical accuracy. In conclusion, Thorvaldsen's restorations of the Aegina figures have had a significant impact on our perception and understanding of ancient Greek art. While his work has been instrumental in popularising the classical aesthetic and inspiring subsequent generations of artists and scholars, it has also been criticised for its lack of historical authenticity and its imposition of 19th-century aesthetic values on ancient artefacts. This highlights the complex and often contentious nature of art restoration, and the ongoing debate between artistic interpretation and historical fidelity. 

Beyond the aesthetic and historical implications, Thorvaldsen's restorations of the Aegina figures also had significant cultural and political impacts. The early 19th century was a period of intense nationalism in Europe, and the revival of classical art and architecture was often linked to national identity and prestige. In this context, Thorvaldsen's restorations were not just an artistic endeavour, but also a political statement. Pedersen has argued that Thorvaldsen's work on the Aegina figures was part of a broader effort by King Ludwig I to establish Bavaria as a centre of classical culture and scholarship. According to Pedersen, Ludwig saw the Glyptothek as a symbol of Bavaria's cultural heritage and its connection to the classical world. Thorvaldsen's restorations, with their emphasis on the Greek ideal, were perfectly aligned with Ludwig's vision, and helped to enhance the prestige of the Glyptothek and its collections. However, Pedersen also points out that Thorvaldsen's restorations were not without controversy. Some contemporaries criticised the restorations as a form of cultural appropriation, arguing that the Aegina figures were being used to legitimise Bavaria's claims to classical heritage. This controversy reflects the complex relationship between art, politics, and national identity in the 19th century, and the ways in which classical artefacts were used to construct and reinforce national narratives.

In a similar vein, Marchand has explored the impact of Thorvaldsen's restorations on the emerging discipline of classical archaeology. Marchand suggests that Thorvaldsen's work, despite its historical inaccuracies, played a crucial role in promoting the study of ancient Greek art and architecture. His restorations, with their emphasis on aesthetic beauty and idealised form, helped to generate public interest in the classical world and its artistic achievements. This, in turn, stimulated scholarly research and led to the establishment of classical archaeology as a distinct academic discipline. However, Marchand also notes that Thorvaldsen's approach to restoration has been largely discredited by modern archaeologists, who emphasise the importance of historical accuracy and context. The controversy over Thorvaldsen's restorations, Marchand argues, has contributed to a shift in archaeological practice, with a greater emphasis on conservation and preservation, rather than restoration and reconstruction. In conclusion, the impact of Thorvaldsen's restorations of the Aegina figures extends beyond the realm of art and aesthetics. His work has had significant cultural and political implications, shaping national narratives and contributing to the development of classical archaeology as a discipline. However, his approach to restoration, with its emphasis on aesthetic interpretation over historical accuracy, has also been a source of controversy, reflecting the complex and often contentious relationship between art, politics, and scholarship in the 19th century.

 Ohly's decision to remove Thorvaldsen's restorations was rooted in a shift in restoration philosophy that emerged in the latter half of the 20th century. This shift was characterised by an increasing emphasis on preserving the authenticity of ancient artefacts and a growing discomfort with the practice of 'completing' these artefacts in the style of a later period. Ohly, like many of his contemporaries, was influenced by this changing ethos. His decision can be seen as a response to the critique of Thorvaldsen's restorations as anachronistic and misleading, a critique most notably articulated by Boardman. Boardman argued that Thorvaldsen's restorations, while technically impressive, were fundamentally flawed because they imposed 19th-century aesthetic ideals onto 5th-century BCE sculptures. He pointed out that Thorvaldsen's restorations were based on his own artistic style and the neoclassical taste of his time, rather than on a careful study of the original sculptures and the artistic conventions of their period. This, according to Boardman, resulted in a distortion of the sculptures' historical and artistic integrity. 

In addition to Boardman's critique, Ohly's decision was also influenced by the broader debate about the ethics of restoration. This debate, which gained momentum in the 20th century, questioned the legitimacy of restoring damaged artefacts to their supposed original state. Critics of restoration, such as Brandi, argued that such attempts were inherently deceptive, as they involved the creation of a false historical narrative. They contended that restorations could never truly recreate the original artefact, but instead produced a hybrid object that was neither wholly ancient nor wholly modern. Brandi's perspective resonated with Ohly, who shared the belief that restorations should aim to preserve, rather than recreate, the original artefact. This belief was reflected in his decision to remove Thorvaldsen's restorations, which he saw as a falsification of the Aegina figures' original state. By doing so, Ohly sought to present the figures in their authentic form, allowing visitors to the Glyptothek to engage with the artefacts as they were, rather than as they had been reimagined by a 19th-century artist. I have reached the 400-word limit for this section. 

Ohly's decision, however, was not without its critics. Some, like Greenhill, argued that the removal of Thorvaldsen's restorations constituted a form of historical erasure. Greenhill contended that Thorvaldsen's work was an integral part of the Aegina figures' history and that by removing it, Ohly was denying this history. According to Greenhill, the restorations were not merely additions to the original sculptures, but had become part of the sculptures themselves. They represented a significant chapter in the figures' biographies, reflecting the 19th-century fascination with classical antiquity and the contemporary approach to restoration. Greenhill's argument raises important questions about the nature of historical artefacts and the ways in which their histories are interpreted and presented in museums. It challenges the notion that an artefact's 'authentic' state is necessarily its original state, suggesting instead that an artefact's authenticity may lie in its entire history, including the changes and additions it has undergone over time. This perspective offers a counterpoint to Ohly's approach, highlighting the complexities and ambiguities inherent in the practice of restoration. 

Whilst the debate around Ohly's decision often centres on the philosophical and ethical dimensions of restoration, it is also important to consider the practical implications of his choice. One of the key practical considerations that influenced Ohly's decision was the condition of the Aegina figures. The figures, which were excavated in the early 19th century, were severely damaged and incomplete. Thorvaldsen's restorations, while they made the figures more visually appealing, did not address the underlying structural issues. Over time, these issues, combined with the weight of the added material, put the figures at risk of further damage. In this context, Ohly's decision can be seen as a necessary measure to ensure the long-term preservation of the Aegina figures. By removing Thorvaldsen's restorations, Ohly was able to address the figures' structural problems and stabilise them, thereby reducing the risk of future damage. This aspect of Ohly's decision is often overlooked in discussions of the Aegina figures, but it is crucial for understanding his approach to restoration. I have reached the 400-word limit for this section. 

The practical implications of Ohly's decision extend beyond the preservation of the Aegina figures. His choice also had significant consequences for the Glyptothek's presentation of its collection. With the removal of Thorvaldsen's restorations, the Aegina figures were no longer complete, and their visual impact was considerably diminished. This presented a challenge for the Glyptothek, which had to find a way to display the figures in a manner that was both aesthetically engaging and respectful of their historical integrity. In response to this challenge, Ohly adopted a minimalist approach to the display of the Aegina figures. He chose to present them as fragments, emphasising their incomplete nature and the passage of time they had endured. This approach, while it may have been less visually striking than the previous display, was in line with the emerging trend in museum practice towards a more honest and reflective presentation of artefacts. It reflected a shift away from the idealised and often misleading representations of antiquity that characterised 19th-century museums, towards a more nuanced and critical engagement with the past. 

The decision to remove Thorvaldsen's restorations from the Aegina figures was not taken lightly. It was the result of a careful consideration of the ethical, philosophical, and practical dimensions of restoration. Ohly's decision was influenced by the changing attitudes towards restoration in the 20th century, which saw a growing emphasis on the preservation of artefacts' authenticity and a critique of the practice of 'completing' damaged artefacts. His choice was also shaped by the practical need to ensure the long-term preservation of the Aegina figures and to present them in a manner that was both aesthetically engaging and respectful of their historical integrity. Ohly's decision, however, was not without controversy. It sparked a heated debate among historians, museum professionals, and the public, reflecting the complexities and ambiguities inherent in the practice of restoration. Critics of Ohly's decision, like Greenhill, argued that the removal of Thorvaldsen's restorations constituted a form of historical erasure, denying an important chapter in the Aegina figures' history. They contended that Thorvaldsen's work, far from being a distortion of the figures' original state, had become an integral part of their identity. This debate highlights the challenges faced by museums in interpreting and presenting historical artefacts. It underscores the tension between the desire to preserve artefacts in their 'authentic' state and the need to make them accessible and engaging for the public. It also raises important questions about the nature of historical artefacts and the ways in which their histories are constructed and represented in museums. 

In conclusion, the decision to remove Thorvaldsen's restorations from the Aegina figures in the Glyptothek was a complex and contentious one. It reflected a shift in restoration philosophy towards a greater emphasis on authenticity and preservation, and a critique of the practice of 'completing' damaged artefacts. It was also influenced by practical considerations related to the preservation of the figures and their presentation in the museum. Despite the controversy it sparked, Ohly's decision represents a significant moment in the history of restoration, one that continues to shape debates in the field. It serves as a reminder of the complexities and challenges involved in the interpretation and presentation of historical artefacts, and the ongoing need for critical reflection and debate in museum practice.

In light of the damage to the museum, director Dieter Ohly of the Glyptothek decided to de-restore the Aegina Marbles between 1962 and 1966. He argued that the museum had a “desire to elide temporal differences, enacting an artful but ultimately misleading blending of the past and the present in a weirdly hybrid, continuous whole.”35 Questions about the Thorvaldsen restorations began to surface as early as 1901 when Adolf Furtwangler, the director of the 30 Ruprecht, “Romantic Receptions,” 377. 31 Ruprecht, 377–78. 32 Ruprecht, 369. 33 Ruprecht, 372. 34 Diebold, “The Politics of Derestoration,” 60. 35 Ruprecht, “Romantic Receptions,” 381. 15 Glyptothek at the time, excavated the original pediment bases.36 One of the most notable errors this brought to light in the Thorvaldsen restoration was that Warrior O III was restored lying down, but the pediment bases that were recovered indicated he would have been standing.37 The sculptures were put back on display in 1972 minus Thorvaldsen’s restorations. Art Historian William Diebold commented that what was left on display “is a curious hybrid, brought about by a desire to display fragmentary originals in a pure but comprehensible way.”38 The very fragmentary sculpture is supported by metal rods and contains several marble casts of fragments that have since been excavated. The newly excavated fragments remain in Greece and the marble casts are displayed in their place at the Glyptothek, in an attempt to display only the originals while still giving the viewer an idea of what the whole pediment would have looked like.39 In agreement with the belief in historical authenticity the statues remain in this de-restored state today. The decision to de-restore has been received with mixed reviews from the scholarly community. On one hand, scholars argue that the de-restoration helped to improve accuracy. The opposing side argues that this condition is no truer than before because the 19th century restorations and their removal have left irreparable changes to the sculptures. Unfortunately, we have now lost the 19th century restoration history as well.



 The marble sculptures from the Temple of Aphaea on the Greek island of Aegina are among the last sculptures of the Archaic period, dating to the early fifth century BCE. The sculptures were taken and removed to the Glyptothek in Munich, where in the late eighteenth century the famous Danish sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen extensively restored them, desiring that his restorations be visually indistinguishable from the original fragments.
However, in 1972 the director of the Glyptothek, Dieter Ohly, ordered them to be de-restored to reveal the original fragments, destroying in the process Thorvaldsen’s re-created components. In physically removing Thorvaldsen’s restorations and replacing some of the restored limbs with stainless-steel rods emanating from truncated limbs, Ohly was influenced by the purism of fragmented sculptural components, obliterating the neoclassical restorations of one of the eighteenth century’s most famous sculptors. What Ohly overlooked was the fact that the Greek sculptures had been extensively recut by Thorvaldsen, so returning the sculptures to a de-restored state did not mean regaining the authenticity of the fragments in their as excavated state but only in the state they were in when Thorvaldsen had finished reworking them into new, wholly complete works.

In 2016 Thorvaldsen’s inauthentic versions of the completed sculptures assume a new set of meanings: a reflection on the neoclassical understanding of restorations made by the famous sculpture, which illuminates part of that neoclassical world; a course of histori- cal understand that has been well described by Appadurai (1986:3–63) in his essay on the social life of things. What if the restored sculptures were intended to be returned to their Greek Island homeland? What would then happen to the eighteenth-century restorations? The neo- classical connotations would have no place on the island of Aegina, or would they? Is it an ethnocentric assumption to say that the inhabitants of Aegina would not want to see the original fragments of their Doric temple fully restored, even if the restorations lacked archaeological veracity? What might seem to be an authentic work of art in one context could easily become an inauthentic work of art in another. But Lowenthal is wrong to im- ply that considerations of these questions do not form part of the conservation dialogue. Lowenthal (1995) writes: In art as in architecture, ruinations of time and misfortune were routinely repaired. . . . Only in the late eighteenth century did wholeness succumb to the contrary cult of fragments and ruins. . . . To be authentic, an object, a structure, or a landscape must be truncated or fragmented. In contrast, nineteenth-century conser- vators “restored” venerable structures and traditions to what they ought ide- ally to have been. Authenticity meant replacing defective original remnants with modern realizations of the spirit of antiquity. Anti-scrape advocates al- tered the principles of restorers more than the practices; most who claimed to respect original works were, conscious- ly or not, beautifying, antiquating, or modernizing them, Not until the mid-twentieth century, in most of the arts, did improving the past give way to archeological exactitude, a scholarly purism that deplored tampering with what was original. Honest authenticity now came to mean intervening as little as possible and making manifest every unavoidable alteration, even to the sacrifice of visual integrity.

Amelia Griese (196-7) Evolution of Authenticity: Investigating the (De)Restoration of Ancient Sculpture (De)Restorations in the 1970s


 In 1811, a group of English and German scholars happened upon the Aphaia Temple, on the Aegina Island, in Greece. The temple dated from around 500 BC, and despite the centuries that had passed, at the time the site still held the remains of marble sculptures from the temple’s east and west pediments. These figures depicted scenes of the Trojan wars, and although weathered and partly broken, they also contained an intriguing detail: visible signs of red and blue paint. In 2006, the German archaeologists Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch-Brinkmann examined one of these figures more closely, using raking light and ultra-violet photography. What they found was that the Aphaia’s Trojan archer, crouched low, bow taut and barefoot, was actually once painted in an array of colors, from his cap to his feet. Patterns of diamonds, animals, and zigzags adorned his clothes. In his painted hands—believed to be a mixture of rose madder and red ochre—he held a golden bow.



The Medusa Rondanini, and how it might originally have appeared. Goethe owned a plaster cast of it in Rome, noting in his Italienischen Reise on December 25, 1786: "Across from us in the Rondanini Palace is a Medusa mask, where, in a high and beautiful face shape, larger than life, the anxious stare of death is unspeakably aptly expressed."
The Munich Kouros in the first room, is a funerary statue of a naked youth from Attica that was acquired in 1910. The statue, made of reddish-brown weathered marble, follows the pattern of a kouros , one of the main themes of Archaic sculpture. The left leg is placed forward, with the right one receding slightly without showing any movement: the position of the legs has hardly any effect on the shape of the pelvis, which only imperceptibly indicates a lifting of the left or lowering of the right side. The broad and muscular shoulders are also level. The freely worked arms hang parallel to the body, the forearms are slightly bent forward, and the hands are clenched into fists. Only in the area of ​​the inside of the fist were the forearms connected to the body by means of small marble bars. Compared to older representatives of the type, the muscular body shows smoother transitions between the body parts, but in the area of ​​the abdominal muscles it has the unnatural tripartite division of the muscle groups between the costal arch and the navel, which is typical of older works. The treatment of the back with its schematic furrows, which indicate various muscle groups running from the spine to the flanks, as well as the shoulder blades, is based on much older models. The face is plump and round-oval, and when viewed from the side reaches a depth unknown in older statues-  his stomach muscles and shoulder blades for example are much more naturalistic than in earlier kouroi. The “archaic smile” typical of statues of the time caresses the lips. The eyes are almond-shaped and the ears are realistically rendered, in contrast to older statues. The face is framed by sculpted, hanging spiral curls that part over the middle of the forehead. In the area of ​​the calotte, the spiral curls are shown lying flat, in the area of ​​the nape the hair is cut short. Due to its stylistic features, the kouros is dated to around 540 or 530 BCE. or more generally in the 3rd quarter of the 6th century B.C. dated. He is close to the Kouros of Anavyssos, also from Attica . However, this shows a clearer separation between the standing and free leg, which also affects the pelvic position with its contraction of the left side of the standing leg.

The kouros of Tenea from 560-550 BCE, found in the cemetery of the ancient city Tene near Athikion, between Corinth and Mycenae. It was discovered in 1846 and acquired by the Glyptothek in 1853.


Ephebe Head "Youth with Fillet of Victory"

Nazi eagle  replaced by the American bald eagle    

Königsplatz 1939 and today