British Museum blog

The unregarded woman: another look at a Ming painting

Craig Clunas, Professor of the History of Art, University of Oxford and co-curator of the BP Exhibition Ming: 50 years that changed China

Of the many paintings included in the BP exhibition Ming: 50 years that changed China, one of the most famous is the ‘Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden’, showing a swanky party held in 1437 in the garden of Yang Rong (1371–1440), Grand Secretary and all-round important person of early fifteenth-century China. It’s in all the books on Ming painting, appears on loads of websites, and is generally one of the most reproduced images dating from the period covered by the exhibition. This is partly because of where the painted silk handscroll now is, in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and so it has been relatively easy to view and study, as well as to publish in books about Chinese art. I’ve used it myself in the classroom and lectures in all sorts of ways, as it’s a very rich image for talking about patronage of the arts, the relationship between politics and art in the Ming, the role of the artist and lots of other topics. I find it is one of those images that you can always learn more about, and indeed there remain a number of mysteries.

Who is it by? It bears the signature of an artist called Xie Huan; his dates used to be a bit vague, but recent research by Yin Ji’nan, Professor of Art History at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, Beijing, has established definitively that he was born in 1377 and died in 1452. He was an important person in the early Ming art world, apparently working as an advisor and painter to the Yongle and Xuande emperors, as well as maintaining a presumably lucrative private practice, producing images like this for important people like Yang Rong and his friends.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377-1452), 'Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden' (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377–1452), ‘Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden’ (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

The nature of the event – senior officials of the empire demonstrating the calm and peaceful state of affairs by gathering for a day of relaxed gentlemanly pastimes – means that more than one person present might have wanted to have an image of the party. Indeed another version of the same subject exists, in the Zhenjiang Museum in China. Are both paintings by Xie Huan? Did he, like Italian artists at the time, run a workshop where multiple versions of the same subject were turned out with the help of assistants? Is one painting the original, and the other just a copy?

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377-1452), 'Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden' (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377–1452), ‘Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden’ (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

All of these views have been put forward by art historians at some point, and indeed I’ve contributed in my time to the scholarship on this painting; I’m particularly intrigued by the painting within the painting (of which we can only see a tiny corner). So it’s a bit humbling to confess that there is a detail of this painting that I’ve never really noticed before, though I’ve looked at it many times, both in reproductions and at the Met in New York. The figures depicted as attending the party are all men, since mixed-sex gatherings would have been vaguely indecent affairs in the Ming, where men and women were strictly segregated in most aspects of elite life. The servants who attend them are all male too, young boys who hold up the painting for viewing, or roll up scrolls no longer wanted, or attend to incense or bringing in the drinks.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377-1452), 'Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden' (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377–1452), ‘Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden’ (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

Except (and this is what never registered properly with me until I had the chance for extended viewing of the picture in the exhibition), that there is one woman visible. She is right at the very left edge of the scroll, the last section to be unrolled when the painting was viewed in sections. She is peeping out from behind a tree, coming out from (presumably) the kitchens carrying a large handled basin. We can’t see the contents, perhaps it is hot water to warm the wine, or maybe it is meant to represent a serving of snacks to go with the drinks. She is doing something important, but unregarded. As it happens, historical Ming gossip tells us that Yang Rong had a famously dowdy wife, a woman from his home province of Jiangxi in the south; she was once given a makeover by the empress, to the extent that she was unrecognisable beneath the added palace glamour. I don’t think the woman in the painting is meant to be her. Yang Rong’s wife was after all a lady, she did not serve the drinks at parties. But I’ve become aware that my own failure to notice her until recently has compounded the invisibility of women, which skews our understanding of Ming art and Ming culture more generally.

In 1437 the emperor was a young boy, and the gentlemen we see here were in fact governing the empire in coalition with the powerful women of the imperial family, the child ruler’s mother and grandmother. I like to think – in fact it’s entirely reasonable to think – that in the depths of the palace they and their ladies-in-waiting were partying in their own way. But they’re not in the picture.

The BP exhibition Ming: 50 years that changed China is at the British Museum from 18 September 2014 to 5 January 2015.
Supported by BP

Craig Clunas and Jessica Harrison-Hall are editors of the exhibition catalogue, The BP exhibition: Ming: 50 years that changed China, which is available in paperback and hardback from the British Museum shop online

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3D-imaging the Assyrian reliefs at the British Museum: from the 1850s to today

Matthew Cock, Head of Web, British Museum

In August this year, a team from CyArk scanned the British Museum’s collection of Assyrian reliefs displayed on the Ground floor, using three different techniques: LiDAR, structured-light and photogrammetry.

Detail of relief from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal, Nineveh, northern Iraq. The king is in his chariot shooting arrows at succession of lions (ME 124867)

Detail of relief from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal, Nineveh, Iraq. The king is in his chariot shooting arrows at succession of lions (ME 124867).

The reliefs were originally commissioned by powerful Assyrian kings between the 9th and 7th centuries BC for their palaces, at a time when the small kingdom of Assyria, in what is now northern Iraq, expanded through conquest to dominate the Middle East, from the Persian Gulf to the Nile. The carved images range from symbolic scenes of royal achievements to scenes of conquest and hunting that all serve to glorify the Assyrian monarch.

Reception of Nineveh sculptures at the British Museum, The Illustrated London News 1852, p. 184. Etching and engraving.

Reception of Nineveh sculptures at the British Museum, The Illustrated London News 1852, p. 184. Etching and engraving.

The reliefs were acquired by the Museum in the late 1840s and 1850s as a result of the Treasury-sponsored archaeological expeditions of Sir Austen Henry Layard, who began his excavations at the North-West Palace of Ashurnasirpal at Nimrud in 1845. The first reliefs arrived in London in June 1847, followed soon by the monumental human-headed winged bulls. To accommodate them, the Assyrian galleries were created – between the Egyptian sculpture and Greek sculpture galleries – where they remain today.

As well as contributing to CyArk’s archive of cultural heritage, the scans provide a fantastic resource that we can use to help people better understand and engage with these objects. The carved panels work like modern comic books, starting the story at one end and following it along the walls to the conclusion. They were designed as a narrative, to be ‘read’ by the king, court and visitors to the royal palaces. It is incredibly difficult to get a good sense of that narrative, or their scale or presence through still images or even video.

With the help of the 3D models created from the scans, we have the potential to develop interpretative media in the galleries, online and through mobile and wearable technology. There are many potential approaches, from delineating the carved scenes where the stone has deteriorated to reconstructing the original architectural scheme, complete with colour paint, and torch-lit ambience as they might have appeared to the Assyrians in their original setting. The video above shows an early trial developed by CyArk using scans from the Siege of Lachish reliefs in Room 10b.

Reconstruction of the interior of an Assyrian palace.

Imaginative reconstruction of the interior of an Assyrian palace. A H Layard, The Monuments of Nineveh, London, 1849, plate 2.

Computer 3D technology is being increasingly adopted in museums to aid with conservation, curatorial research and interpretation. When the Assyrian reliefs first arrived in the Museum almost exactly 160 years ago, the latest imaging technology of the time – photography – was in its infancy. Interestingly, it grew up closely connected with the developing discipline of archaeology. Indeed, the main players in the early histories of archaeology, photography and philology (the study of language, but particularly the decipherment of ancient languages) moved in the same social and scholarly circles in London, meeting, corresponding and collaborating.

The early pioneer of photography William Henry Fox-Talbot was also fascinated with archaeology and convinced of the usefulness of his invention to museum and archaeological practices. He had visited the British Museum Trustees in 1843 to demonstrate his invention, but failed to persuade Charles Fellows, then excavating in Lycia, in what is now southern Turkey, to take the bulky and fragile equipment on his next expedition.

But by the 1850s, the equipment and processes were simpler, and interest at the Museum had grown. Edward Hawkins, Keeper of the Department of Antiquities, responsible for the Assyrian objects, was keen for photographs to be made of the growing collection of cuneiform tablets (arriving from Assyria at the same time as the reliefs) to help allow Edward Hincks, an Irish scholar and expert in cuneiform, and others (including Fox-Talbot himself) to translate them.

Collotype print photograph of Roger Fenton, taken by an unknown photographer

Collotype print photograph of Roger Fenton, taken by an unknown photographer, c. 1860. © National Media Museum / Science & Society Picture Library (2003-5001/2/22878).

Hawkins talked to Lord Rosse, scientist and President of the Royal Society, and British Museum Trustee, and soon after the Trustees instructed the Museum to employ a photographer. The advice of another scientist, Charles Wheatstone, was sought. Wheatstone had invented stereoscopy, creating the first stereoscopic viewer in 1838 which created the illusion of 3D. This early model used illustrations, but photography provided a far more suitable medium. Wheatstone had been collaborating with the photographer Roger Fenton, and recommended him for the job.

Roger Fenton, The Assyrian Gallery, British Museum. stereoscopic pair of photographs, c.1850s

Roger Fenton, The Assyrian Gallery, British Museum. stereoscopic pair of photographs, c. 1850s.

Part of Fenton’s early work at the Museum was a series of stereoscopic photographs of galleries, which survive as part of Wheatstone’s collection now in the archives of King’s College, London. One of those shows a tantalising view of the newly opened Assyrian Gallery.

Stereo viewer, with view of Edinburgh Castle and Grassmarket. Photo by kind permission of Peter Stubbs

Stereo viewer, with view of Edinburgh Castle and the Grassmarket. This viewer is an example of the more portable development of the technology that followed Wheatstone’s earlier ‘desktop’ models. Photo © Peter Stubbs.

Stereoscopy became a huge craze in the late 1850s and 1860s, and persisted well into the 20th century. Today’s virtual reality wearable technology, such as Oculus Rift and Google Cardboard echo their forerunners in intention (an immersive experience) and appearance.

First in the series of Roger Fenton's photographs of the Kuyunjik Collection of cuneiform tablets. Albumen prints on card. Archives of the Middle East Department at the British Museum

First in the series of Roger Fenton’s photographs of the Kuyunjik Collection of cuneiform tablets. Albumen prints on card. Archives of the Middle East Department at the British Museum

Cuneiform Clay Tablet, a salt paper print photograph by Roger Fenton

Cuneiform clay tablet, a salt paper print photograph by Roger Fenton, c. 1854. © National Media Museum / Science & Society Picture Library (1937-4093).

As well as experimenting with this new 3D technology in the galleries, Fenton also made photographs of the objects, as was his brief. Between 1853 and 1854 he systematically photographed the series of cuneiform tablets known as the Kuyunkjik Collection. One of Fenton’s greatest challenges was lighting. He had a glass studio built on the roof of the Museum, based on his own studio in his home in North London. Portable objects such as the cuneiform tablets were brought there to be photographed. By May 1856, Fenton and his assistants had made more than 8,000 prints in the galleries and his rooftop studio.

Standing in the gallery watching CyArk’s scanners spinning and collecting millions of points of data, I reflected on how the British Museum and the Assyrian objects that so fascinated scholars and public alike in the late 19th century were once again the site of a new technology in its early years. Museum technologists have to make difficult decisions on what to adopt and when. Soon after the period discussed above, the British Museum’s early interest in photography waned, likely mainly due to the high cost of the equipment and materials. Fenton’s employment was ended in 1859, and many of his negatives were transferred to the South Kensington Museum, now the Victoria and Albert Museum, where they form part of the UK’s national collection of the art of photography. But still, of course, that doesn’t mean it never happened: 160 years on, and the British Museum now has over 1.2 million images of objects in the collection online.

CyArk have enabled us to investigate the possibilities of 3D with a significant group of objects from the collection, and I am optimistic that this is just the beginning. It doesn’t take much to imagine a time when 3D scans become the de facto method of recording objects in the collection. I believe that this project – and once again the Assyrian reliefs – are remembered as a key moment in that change.

The Assyrian reliefs are on display in Rooms 6-10 on the Ground floor of the British Museum.

If you are interested in stereoscopy, visit the BP Spotlight: ‘Poor man’s picture gallery’: Victorian Art and Stereoscopic Photography at Tate Britain from 13 October 2014 – April 2015

A selection of 3D models of British Museum objects can be viewed, embedded and downloaded from our Sketchfab channel.

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Poetry and exile: contemporary art from the Middle East

Holly Wright, administrator, British Museum

The current temporary display in the John Addis Gallery: Islamic World, Poetry and exile: works by Abdallah Benanteur, Ipek Duben, Mireille Kassar, Mona Saudi and Canan Tolon, curated by Venetia Porter, brings together the recently acquired work of six artists all exploring the phenomenon of exile. In a gallery predominantly populated with Islamic art and objects dating as early as the 7th century, it could be said that this display of contemporary art is incongruous. So why is it here?

Ahmed Mater, Magnetism,2012 One of four photogravures showing different stages of the installation of the magnet and iron filing (2012,6018.3, Funded by Abulaziz Turki). © Ahmed Mater

Ahmed Mater, Magnetism, 2012. One of four photogravures showing different stages of the installation of the magnet and iron filing (2012,6018.3, Funded by Abulaziz Turki). © Ahmed Mater

I first became interested in the modern and contemporary collections of the Middle East department in 2012, while visiting Hajj: journey to the heart of Islam. The work of Ahmed Mater immediately stood out to me, as it added an unexpected emotional interpretation of the pilgrimage to Mecca which was unique and surprising to me as a visitor. I would later go on to study the collection of modern and contemporary Middle Eastern art in greater detail for my MA, still barely scraping the surface; as it continues to grow and to be used in increasingly imaginative and diverse ways.

In this display the concept of exile is approached through the personal experiences of each artist and their political and humanitarian views. Each work directs the viewer to the incidents that have inspired them and it is these references which place the art within a broader context. Not only do the works inspire an emotional response but they also ignite curiosity as to what inspired those artists. It is this emotional engagement and varied approach which makes the pieces so important and interesting to me, and hopefully to the visitors who will see the display.

Ipek Duben, Refugee, 2010, photoprint and hand-stitching on synthetic silk on Canson paper, (2011,6029.1, funded by CaMMEA, the Contemporary and Modern Middle Eastern Art Acquisitions group). &copy Ipek Duben

Ipek Duben, Refugee, 2010, photoprint and hand-stitching on synthetic silk on Canson paper, (2011,6029.1, funded by CaMMEA, the Contemporary and Modern Middle Eastern Art Acquisitions group). © Ipek Duben

The works in the display were not created in isolation; their influences overlap whether it be on specific political or personal events or the work of poets such as Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008) and Farid al-Din Attar (c. 1145–c.1221). The works are all united by difficulty, whether that of the artist or the experiences of others. Ipek Duben formulates this difficulty in her book Refugee by overlaying images of suffering with delicate gauze and simple embroidered text and in doing so she starkly contrasts the hardship shown in the images. The simplicity of the technique employed gives the work a scrapbook feel, rendered incredibly moving as it highlights the experiences of refugees from Kosovo, Pakistan, Liberia and elsewhere.

Mona Saudi, Homage to Mahmoud Darwish, The Poem of the Land, 1979, silkscreen on watercolour. (2014,6026.2, funded by CaMMEA). © Mona Saudi

Mona Saudi, Homage to Mahmoud Darwish, The Poem of the Land, 1979, silkscreen on watercolour. (2014,6026.2, funded by CaMMEA). © Mona Saudi

Mona Saudi’s work Homage to Mahmoud Darwish, one of three displayed on the opposite wall, is inscribed with the poetry of the renowned and revered Palestinian poet (1941–2008). The one illustrated here is The Poem of the Land. For me, an interesting element of this work is that the style of Saudi’s drawings echo posters which she created for the Plastic Arts Section of the Palestine Liberation Organisation, some of which are displayed alongside Homage and are part of a group that have been donated by the Palestinian Poster archive. This is a unique quality of the British Museum’s collection of Middle Eastern art, in that the works often contain references that extend beyond the collection itself and in doing so give even small displays the ability to explore more widespread elements of history and human experience.

Canan Tolon, Futur Imparfait, 1986-9. Ink and graphite on Mylar (2013,6039.1.1-33 funded by CaMMEA and SAHA, an association which supports artistic projects connected to contemporary Turkish art). © Canan Tolon

Canan Tolon, Futur Imparfait, 1986-9. Ink and graphite on Mylar (2013,6039.1.1-33 funded by CaMMEA and SAHA, an association which supports artistic projects connected to contemporary Turkish art). © Canan Tolon

In Canan Tolon’s series, Futur Imparfait, her exile is more singular and personal. Inspired by her experience of illness as a child, the series acts as a memory of her protracted stay in a French hospital when she was separated from her home. The thirty delicate drawings on Mylar add a voice from another perspective. It is a series executed in ethereally light washes of ink and graphite, reflecting the removed reality she experienced while in a strange country and environment. Tolon’s own words are relevant regarding not only her own work but of the artists in the exhibition as a whole:

… it is not the misfortune of others which fascinates and astonishes but the extraordinary will of a child to live…

This sentiment is characteristic of the message and draw of the works in this display; there are painful and violent stories here, but predominantly it is the human reaction to these events and not the suffering in itself which is explored. The aftermath of war, illness and displacement is discussed through delicate drawings and through poetry. This alone is reason enough for these pieces to be here.

This space within the gallery of Islamic art is used for rotations of works on paper from across the collection that we are not able to put on permanent display. These include Persian or Mughal paintings, even shadow puppets as were featured in a previous display. With the ever-expanding collection of Middle Eastern art, this small area will continue to host increasingly diverse and exciting exhibitions, so watch this space! Further information on this collection and the Middle East department as a whole can also be found on the Museum’s collection online.

Before joining the Museum as an administrator in the Middle East Department in 2013, Holly Wright studied for the MA in Museum and Artefact Studies at Durham University. Her dissertation was ‘Collecting the contemporary: modern and contemporary art in the Middle East Department of the British Museum’.

Poetry and exile: works by Abdallah Benanteur, Ipek Duben, Mireille Kassar, Mona Saudi and Canan Tolon is on display in Room 34 until 1 March 2015, admission free.

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Looted, recovered, returned: new research on the Begram ivories

St J Simpson, curator, British Museum

A seated figure in mid-conversation

A seated figure in mid-conversation. © National Museum of Afghanistan

A major new book, illustrated in full colour, has just been published on a group of these famous objects which had been stolen from the National Museum of Afghanistan during the 1990s but were recovered, then conserved and exhibited at the British Museum in 2011 before being returned to Kabul in 2012.

Lions and elephant carved in openwork

Lions and elephant carved in openwork. © National Museum of Afghanistan

Carved from bone as well as ivory, but popularly known as the ‘Begram ivories’, they were one of the many memorable highlights of the British Museum’s 2011 exhibition Afghanistan: crossroads of the ancient world. Over a thousand of these exquisite Indian miniature carvings, originally attached to wooden pieces of furniture, long since decomposed, were recovered by French archaeologists excavating the ancient site of Begram in 1937 and 1939. The main pieces were published but the collection was divided almost equally between the National Museum in Kabul and the Musée Guimet, the French national museum of Asian art in Paris. During the 1990s, disaster struck the Kabul collection during the civil war and hundreds were stolen from their galleries and storerooms, and remain scattered in many different collections around the world.

Composite bone plaque showing a bird

Composite bone plaque showing a bird

In 2010 a private philanthropist very generously stepped in and acquired this particular collection on behalf of the National Museum in Kabul. They were in a poor state and required a huge amount of conservation. This work was done within a very short space of time at the British Museum with the support of Bank of America Merrill Lynch through their global Art Conservation Project. The bank also sponsored the Afghanistan exhibition.

A digitally re-coloured version of a plaque covered with different pigments

A digitally re-coloured version of a plaque covered with different pigments. © National Museum of Afghanistan

This was also a golden opportunity to conduct scientific analyses on these pieces in order to understand how they were made, and the nature of previous conservation treatments. This work therefore involved a number of scientists, conservators and curators, who collaborated closely on this new publication. The results reveal important new evidence for the extent of ancient pigments on some of these beautiful objects, including black (lamp black), red (hematite and vermilion), blue (indigo) and possibly other colours using organic pigments. This is the first time any of the ivory and bone furniture ornaments from Begram have been scientifically analysed and the results show the huge potential in this approach.

Composite bone plaque showing a bird

Composite bone plaque showing a bird. © National Museum of Afghanistan

A mythical beast

A mythical beast. © National Museum of Afghanistan

The book also includes many previously unpublished photographs of these objects when they were exhibited in Kabul during the 1960s and 1970s. They show how, in some cases, private photographs taken of museum displays offer useful evidence for the appearance of objects in the event of disaster.

begram book cover_544

J Ambers, C R Cartwright, C Higgitt, D Hook, E Passmore, St J Simpson, G Verri, C Ward and B. Wills, Looted, Recovered, Returned: Antiquities from Afghanistan is published by Archaeopress and available both in printed and e-versions. The publication was supported by Bank of America Merrill Lynch.

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Ming culinary culture: it’s all very beautiful, but what did they eat?

Malcolm McNeill, project researcher and doctoral candidate, SOAS, University of London

In the book accompanying the BP exhibition Ming: 50 years that changed China, curator Jessica Harrison-Hall’s chapter ‘Courts: palaces, people and objects’ vividly evokes the sumptuous banquets of the Ming elite. A Timurid embassy’s account of a feast held in a meadow on 20 August 1420 treats us to an enticing description of geese, roast fowl, and dried and fresh fruits, all artfully arranged to impress these Central Asian dignitaries. The alfresco fine dining experience was accompanied by courtly pageantry. Beautiful cross-dressed male performers danced for the envoys, while entertainers in papier-mâché animal masks moved like wild beasts. These same Central Asians tell us that the Yongle emperor (reigned 1403–1422), the warrior, dined on a multitude of meats in a single sitting and had a penchant for yellow wine made from grain or rice (huang jiu). This combination of theatrical and culinary delights paints a revealing portrait of early Ming courtly fine dining. The plethora of porcelain and gold vessels in the exhibition show just how lavish the tables of early Ming imperial and princely courts would have been.

Gold ladle and chopsticks, excavated from the tomb of Zhu Zhanji, Prince Zhuang of Liang, and of Lady Wei, at Zhongxiang, Hubei Province. © Hubei Provincial Museum

Gold ladle and chopsticks, excavated from the tomb of Zhu Zhanji, Prince Zhuang of Liang, and of Lady Wei, at Zhongxiang, Hubei Province. © Hubei Provincial Museum.

We even have two sets of chopsticks, inscribed with the date they were made, their weight, and the name of the imperial workshop in which they were produced, excavated from the tomb of Prince Zhuang of Liang and his wife Lady Wei. Looking at these in the exhibition, I imagined the delicacies these golden chopsticks might have lifted from plate to palate. This left my mouth watering, but also set my mind wondering. How were these delicacies made? What did they smell and taste like? And what would ordinary people, without the wealth of an emperor, have had for dinner?

While researching objects for the Hands On desk outside the exhibition entrance, I found answers to some of these questions. The desk doesn’t just let you touch the wonders of the early Ming, you can smell them too. If you go, do ask for the small box of tea grown at the site of the Ming imperial tea plantations, the Wuyi Mountains in China’s southern Fujian province. These loose leaves of high-grade oolong tea tell a story that can be traced back to the first Ming emperor Hongwu (reigned 1368–1398), the founder. He had a profound impact on the way tea was brewed in 15th-century China. Hailing from lowly stock, he was frequently exasperated by the aristocratic excesses of his courtiers and ministers. This frustration led to an edict issued over the preparation of tea, which forbade brews made from laboriously manufactured bricks of tea powder in favour of infusing tea from dried leaves. While the brick tea popular in the courts of the preceding Song and Yuan dynasties is still drunk in Japan, Hongwu’s loose leaf tea is the brew of choice across China today. Something to bear in mind next time you pop the kettle on for a quick cuppa…

With my mind turned to food and drink, I recently revisited the exhibition in search of more clues about smells and tastes. Looking at the books on display in the section devoted to the arts of peace, my eyes lighted on a collection of bean recipes. These are found in an incredible compendium that aspired to contain all knowledge within the empire, the ‘Great Canon of the Yongle Reign’ (Yongle da dian). Rather than an original piece of writing filled with definitions and explanations, the Yongle da dian was a reference text that pieced together pre-existing knowledge. It was more like a library than an encyclopaedia. The three volumes on show in the exhibition illustrate its breadth of subject matter. On the right you see a selection of feng shui diagrams, on the left a guide to funeral etiquette, and wedged between them is a list of recipes for the humble bean. Reading the text I was staggered by the number of uses for simple pulses: there are recipes for salted beans with minced pork and lamb, beans in oil, beans with salted bamboo shoots, beans from the ‘barbarian’ tribes to the south, and beans of foreign states.

Anonymous, after Zie Huan (1377-1452), 'Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden' (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

Anonymous, after Xie Huan (1377–1452), ‘Elegant gathering in the Apricot Garden’ (detail); handscroll, ink and colours on silk, 1437. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, The Dillon Fund Gift 1989.

For all the detail in this great compendium, and for all the glamour of golden tableware, it was in the corner of one painting that I found the fullest expression of Ming gastronomy. At the far left of the handscroll ‘Elegant Gathering in the Apricot Garden’, is a scene of elite opulence with servants preparing wine for their master’s guests. We can only imagine the taste and smell. I want to end by sharing with you a translation of a recipe for honey wine from Liu Ji’s (1311–1375) ‘Many Methods for Humble Tasks’. We don’t know exactly what kind of wine was being heated in the Apricot Garden, but Liu Ji’s recipes were in circulation in Ming China when Xie Huan’s painting was made. The painting captures a single moment, but the recipe narrates every stage of a similar process: from the skimming of the bubbling mixture with a chicken feather to the pounding of a pungent paste for fermentation, ending with adjustments of timings to match the rhythms of the seasons in fermenting this sweet, honey wine. I hope that seeing the painting and recipe together gives you a flavour of Ming China.
 

Method for making honey wine
Slowly heat two jin of honey in one dou of water, scraping off what bubbles up with a chicken feather. Continue heating until nothing more bubbles up. Grind cinnamon, pepper, ginger and red bean, and combine these parts together. Place no more than eight qian of this mixture in the vessel, then add no more than four liang of plain flour, and finally add the honey water. Use oiled paper to seal the honey container under seven layers of bamboo. In winter leave it to mature for 27 days, 10 in autumn and spring, and 7 in summer.

 

The BP exhibition: Ming: 50 years that changed China is at the British Museum until 5 January 2015.
Supported by BP

The exhibition catalogue, The BP exhibition: Ming: 50 years that changed China, edited by Craig Clunas and Jessica Harrison-Hall, is available in paperback and hardback from the British Museum shop online

To learn more about Ming culinary culture, come to award-winning cook and food writer Fuchsia Dunlop’s talk Tastes of Ming China on Friday 14 November.

If you prefer something you can literally sink your teeth into, have a look at the special Ming menu in the Museum’s Great Court Restaurant.

Filed under: Ming: 50 years that changed China, , , , , ,

The long march to Jingdezhen, China’s porcelain city

Family business. © Roger LawRoger Law, artist and satirist

It was a long march from London’s East End to China’s Jingdezhen. The first step was closing the factory gates on the satirical puppet workshop Spitting Image. Moving to Australia, it turned out, was the next great stride. No one can live in Australia for long without becoming very aware of the influence of China, both culturally and economically. As fast as the Australians miners can dig raw materials out of the ground they are shipped to China. And the cultural exchanges between the two countries follow thick and fast. Australia is China’s favoured concubine.

Ah Xian, a Chinese contemporary artist now an Australian citizen, introduced me to Jingdezhen, China’s Porcelain City. First through his work exhibited at the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney in 2001, and then when he was kind enough to meet up with me in Jingdezhen.

Family business. © Roger Law

Family business. © Roger Law

I was surprised to discover that most of the workshops in Jingdezhen are highly specialised, family businesses – skilful pottery sweatshops, not unlike my Spitting Image puppet factory. Porcelain City was as busy making things as the UK in the 1950s, I felt oddly at home in this strange culture.

I travel extensively in Australia drawing surreal and exotic creatures found in the wetlands and seas around that sunburnt country – everything from Weedy Sea Dragons to Cheer-leader Crabs. I was looking for a way to use this Aussie bestiary.

Finding a way to work collaboratively with artisans in Jingdezhen is problematic. I began working in Porcelain City when failure was affordable. And fail I did. My failures gave me a better understanding of the properties of porcelain and carving seemed to be the way to use my Australian drawings.

Dancing cheerleader crabs charger, by Roger Law. Photo by John Lawrence Jones

Dancing cheerleader crabs charger, by Roger Law. Photo by John Lawrence Jones

Finding craftsmen to work with me was also difficult. ‘Why should I learn to do something I shall never need to do again?’ was one very good answer I received. Finally a young carver, Mr Wu Songming, was willing to risk working with me. The Cheer-leader Crabs and Weedy Sea Dragons started to appear on fine porcelain.

Carter – Jingdezhen. © Roger Law

Carter – Jingdezhen. © Roger Law

Jingdezhen calls itself Porcelain City with good reason. Over a million pots a week are made there – a small city by China’s standards with most of its 700,000 residents involved in making ceramics. On my first visit to Jingdezhen the workshops were busy turning out copies of copies of traditional designs. The last decade has seen a creative and economic revitalisation of its workshops. The traditional blue-and-white ware of Jingdezhen, Qing Hua, is still the city’s bread and butter, but new designs reflect demand from the growing Chinese middle class.

Jingdezhen workshop. © Roger Law

Jingdezhen workshop. © Roger Law

On my first visit everything in Jingdezhen was filthy – except for the people. How the workers achieved it is a small miracle. After a day on the earth floors of the workshops, strewn with slabs of wet clay and porcelain dust, the men and women emerge spotless, the women’s high heels as clean as the day they were bought. The workshop conditions were grim. No doors in the doors, no glass in the windows. Humid in the summer and brass monkeys in the winter.

I have seen the city change unrecognisably. The bicycles have morphed into motorbikes, the motorbikes to cars. The workshops now have concrete floors but the potteries still ensure plenty of carcinogenic intake of copper, lead, zinc and solvents etc.

Joey Zhou and Roger Law. © Roger Law

Joey Zhou and Roger Law. © Roger Law

My translator, Joey Zhou, refrains from translating when a conversation becomes heated. I can become very volatile in 100% humidity. Joey will wait until things calm down. I asked him why Chinese are not more direct when dealing with problems. ‘That is not the Chinese way.’ Joey replied sagely. ‘They will say nothing and hate you secretly.’

Roger Law, co-creator of the satirical TV puppet show Spitting Image, is contributing to the Ming Late: courtly pleasures, Friday 14 November, 18.00–21.00 in the Great Court. Free, just drop in.

ROGER LAW is at Sladmore Contemporary from 30 October to 15 November.

The BP exhibition: Ming: 50 years that changed China is at the British Museum to 5 January 2015.
Supported by BP

Filed under: Ming: 50 years that changed China, , , , , ,

Where were you the night the Berlin Wall fell?

Sabrina Ben Aouicha, project curator, Germany: memories of a nation, British Museum

Wach auf, Sabrina! Du musst dir ansehen, wie Geschichte geschrieben wird!

‘Wake up, Sabrina! You have to witness this; history is being written!’ These were the words my father woke me with, on a cold November night 25 years ago today. Although I was 8 years old (nearly 9) at the time, I still remember them today.

I think there are just a few events in recent history that are shared by people all over the world and become part of the human memory. I even dare to say there is one memory shared by every German over the age of 30. This can be summarised in one question: ‘where were you the night of 9 November 1989, when the Berliner Mauer (Berlin Wall) fell?

So, where was I? I would love to say I was on the streets when it happened but I wasn’t. The fact is I was in bed after an exciting and exhausting day in school, probably dreaming of becoming the first German-Tunisian female astronaut (my career aspiration at the time). After my dad woke me with those words, he sat me on the sofa in front of the TV between him and my mother. On the screen we were astonished to see people pouring through the different crossing points along the inner German border. At this moment I hadn’t really realized that the life I knew until then would change forever.

I was born and raised in West Berlin in the early 1980s, as daughter of a German-Silesian mother and a Tunisian father. For the first years of my life it felt normal to live in a city that was like an island. I knew there was an ‘end’ on each side of the city, a massive wall in the east, and border controls to the west.

The author with her mother during one of their walks along the Berlin Wall, 1987/88

The author with her mother during one of their walks along the Berlin Wall, 1987/88

Growing up in West Berlin in the 80s was an adventure with a taste of danger. Although my parents never really spoke to me about this when I was a child, I could sense that our situation was different to the people who lived in West Germany. It was normal for me to go on walks along the Berlin Wall with my parents and be watched by suspicious East German border guards in their watch towers; or to be told how to behave when we needed to cross the Border and drive through the GDR (East Germany) to visit my grandparents in West Germany or Tunisia – a situation that was always very stressful for my parents.

All this changed after that night in November 1989. One of my first impressions of this new situation was how busy ‘our part’ of Berlin became. My father worked near the Kurfürstendamm, the main boulevard of West Berlin, and my mother and I picked him up from work from time to time. I never saw the city so busy and crowded then in these first days after the Berlin Wall fell. Most striking and memorable for me were the crowds of mainly East Berliners in front of the local McDonalds, in a queue that went around the whole building.

The first few weeks felt like a real party. My parents took me to the Wall to join the vast numbers of Mauerspechte (so-called ‘wall woodpeckers’), who hacked at the wall after the border crossings were opened, mostly to take a piece of it as a souvenir. I still have a piece on my desk in Berlin that I hacked out myself.

Life in Berlin started to change more and more in the next few years. There was a spirit and a sense of new beginnings in the air that we could all feel. I grew older and so Berlin did as well; I share most of my unique memories of my early teenage years with the changing city.

British Chieftain tanks during the Farewell Parade on Strasse des 17. Juni, Berlin, 18 June 1994. Photo courtesy of the U.S. Department of Defense and Imke Paust

British Chieftain tanks during the Farewell Parade on Strasse des 17. Juni, Berlin, 18 June 1994. Photo courtesy of the U.S. Department of Defense and Imke Paust

The last Military Tattoo in 1992 – a highlight of my early years as I always went with my Dad – was one of them. Another was the day of the Farewell Parade when French, British and American troops were marching the last time on the Strasse des 17. Juni on the Western Side of the Brandenburg Gate on 18 June 1994. Surrounded by over 75,000 other Berliners I waved ‘goodbye’ and ‘au revoir’* to the British, American and French troops who were such an important part of my childhood. Although it was the end of an era, it was also the beginning of a new one, as Berlin was handed back to the German government as capital of a new and reunited country. The city was free from foreign military presence for the first time in 49 years.

While I saw old women crying on the streets and asking: ‘Who will look after us now?’ I just thought, well it’s up to us now to look after ourselves.

Memorial for the Berliner Mauer (Berlin Wall), following its former course.

Memorial of the Berliner Mauer (Berlin Wall), following its former course. Photo courtesy of Sabrina Ben Aouicha

Today, the evidence of the division within the city is fading out more and more. Sometimes I remember things and events of my early childhood while walking around the city; especially when I am showing British friends around, trying to explain them the difference of the Berlin of my childhood to the one they see now.

I would like to finish this post with the same question I asked at the beginning: where were you the night of 9 November 1989 when the Berlin Wall fell? I look forward to reading your memories in the comments section below.

—————

*I remember (from talking to my older relatives) that they a) didn’t really know the difference between ‘au revoir’ and ‘adieu’ and b) still hoped some of them would return as friends/tourists rather than military personnel.

The exhibition Germany: memories of a nation is at the British Museum from 16 October 2014 to 25 January 2015. Sponsored by Betsy and Jack Ryan, with support from Salomon Oppenheimer Philanthropic Foundation.

Accompanying the exhibition is a 30-part BBC Radio 4 series written and presented by Neil MacGregor.

Filed under: Germany: memories of a nation, , ,

Barlach’s hovering angel travels to London

Clarissa von Spee, curator, British Museum

‘Everything is packed and we are on our way now!’ said a breathless voice on the phone, and it took me several seconds to realize that it was the chairman of the Ernst Barlach Stiftung Güstrow (Barlach Foundation).

Güstrow Cathedral. Photo: Wikimedia Commons, User:Schiwago. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 Generic license.

Güstrow Cathedral. Photo: Wikimedia Commons, User:Schiwago. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 Generic license.

Ernst Barlach, Der Schwebende (Güstrow Cathedral) © Archiv Ernst Barlach Stiftung Güstrow (Foto: Uwe Seemann)

Ernst Barlach, Der Schwebende (Güstrow Cathedral) © Archiv Ernst Barlach Stiftung Güstrow (Foto: Uwe Seemann)

Barlach's Angel prior to removal for loan to the British Museum exhibition

Barlach’s Angel prior to removal for loan to the British Museum exhibition

On Monday 29 October the parish of Güstrow, in the north German state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, removed their famous Angel, a 150kg bronze sculpture suspended in a chapel of their cathedral, and sent it by train and ferry to London to be shown in the exhibition Germany: memories of a nation. The Angel arrived two days later in London. Too large to fit into a lift, the bronze was carried by no less than 8 well-muscled Heavy Object Handlers to the exhibition space.

Güstrow, also known as Barlachstadt (Barlach city), was the hometown of Ernst Barlach, a German expressionist sculptor, whose most important work is his floating, or hovering bronze figure (Der Schwebende) made in 1926 to commemorate the victims of the First World War. Barlach himself fought in this war and returned a pacifist.

Der Schwebende ('The Hovering'), by Ernst Barlach, Güstrow Cathedral.

Der Schwebende (The Hovering), by Ernst Barlach, Güstrow Cathedral.

Barlach’s memorial is unusual and unique. Detached from earth and time, with folded arms and closed eyes, the hovering figure expresses an internalized vision of the grief and sufferings of war. When the Nazis came to power in the 1930s, Barlach’s works were among the first to be declared Entartete Kunst (‘degenerate art’) and confiscated and removed from public display. Sadly, Barlach died in 1938, knowing that his masterwork had been taken down to be melted and probably made into war munitions.

However, some courageous friends had managed to hide a second cast, which was then hung in the Antoniter Church in Cologne after the end of the Second World War. This time, the sculpture commemorated two World Wars. During the time of the Cold War in the 1950s, the parish of Cologne made another cast of the Angel and presented it in a gesture of friendship to the parish of Güstrow cathedral. For the next few months this cast is displayed in the British Museum’s exhibition.

In 1981 Helmut Schmidt, the Chancellor of West Germany, met Erich Honecker in East Germany, and they visited Barlach’s Angel in Güstrow cathedral. On this occasion, Schmidt said to the bishop in Güstrow: ‘I would like to thank you very much for your kind words of welcome. As you said, Barlach is indeed part of our common memory of the past. May I add, that Barlach could also stand as a representative of our shared and common future.’ Schmidt was right. Eight years later, in peaceful demonstrations, East Germans brought the wall between East and West down.

The sculpture also holds an additional message for us. The British sculptor Antony Gormley said in a recent talk at the British Museum: ‘If you want to know how it feels to exist beyond space and time, just close your eyes and look inwards.’ Try it, it works! In the exhibition, Barlach’s hovering bronze figure faces us directly, but its eyes are closed with arms folded over its chest. A perfect way to come to peace with the world.

The exhibition Germany: memories of a nation is at the British Museum from 16 October 2014 to 25 January 2015. Sponsored by Betsy and Jack Ryan, with support from Salomon Oppenheimer Philanthropic Foundation.

Accompanying the exhibition is a 30-part BBC Radio 4 series written and presented by Neil MacGregor.

In the episode Barlach’s Angel, Neil MacGregor focuses on Ernst Barlach’s sculpture Hovering Angel, a unique war memorial, commissioned in 1926 to hang in the cathedral in Güstrow.

Filed under: Germany: memories of a nation, Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

Things that go bump in the night: the Blackmoor Hoard

Jennifer Wexler, Bronze Age Index Manager, MicroPasts

Part of the Blackmoor Hoard in the British Museum collection

Part of the Blackmoor Hoard in the British Museum collection

As part of our research into British Museum’s Bronze Age collections, the MicroPasts team is asking for the public’s help with researching the wonderful Blackmoor Hoard. Known also as the ‘Blackmoor-Wolmer Forest’ or ‘Selborne’ Hoard, the hoard was found near Blackmore, Hampshire. There are several Bronze Age barrows within the area of Woolmer Forest, and multiple hoards (Woolmer Forest, Woolmer Pond, Hogmoor, Longmoor Camp) from different periods have been found there. The connection between the ritual deposition of bronze weapons and the barrow cemeteries together constitute a particularly well-preserved ritual landscape of the Late Neolithic and Bronze Age periods.

Like many Bronze Age hoards recorded in the Bronze Age Index (such as the Arreton Down hoard), the Selborne Hoard has connections with several famous collectors of archaeological antiquities, including Rev. Greenwell, George Roots, General Pitt Rivers and Lord McAlpine.

Middle Bronze Age hoard from Blackmoor (left to right: 1893,0618,7, 1893,0618.11, 1893,0618.10, 1893,0618.13)

Middle Bronze Age hoard from Blackmoor (left to right: 1893,0618,7, 1893,0618.11, 1893,0618.10, 1893,0618.13)

Bronze Age Index card illustrating objects from the Blackmoor Hoard

Bronze Age Index card illustrating objects from the Blackmoor Hoard

Both Middle Bronze Age (MBA) and Late Bronze Age (LBA) hoards from the area are featured in the Bronze Age Index. The MBA hoard was found in 1840 and contains bronze torcs, rings and a palstave.

The LBA weapon hoard, discovered in the garden of a cottage near Blackmoor in 1870, is better known, and has a complicated history of collection. A large part of the hoard was handed over to Lord Selborne, as it was found on his land. It currently makes up part of the Selborne collection now in Gilbert White’s House and includes sword fragments, over twenty spearheads, three rings, ferrule fragments and one mysterious ‘grooved socket’.

Late Bronze age socketed spearhead. From the Roots Collection (1891,0514.6)

Late Bronze Age socketed spearhead. From the Roots Collection (1891,0514.6)

Somehow two large groups of objects from the hoard were separated from the Selborne Collection. Part of the hoard appears to have been disposed of soon after discovery and sold to two prominent antiquarian collectors, George Roots and Rev. William Greenwell. The Greenwell collection now in the British Museum is composed largely of spearheads donated by John Pierpont Morgan in 1908. The Roots collection is more diverse, containing spearheads, sword fragments and cast rings. Evidence suggests that the Selborne, Greenwell, and Roots assemblages were all part of the same deposit, with spearhead fragments from the various collections fitting together.

Lunette spearhead from the Blackmoor Hoard. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Lunette spearhead from the Blackmoor Hoard. © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (1998.540.1)

The British Museum purchased the Roots collection at auction in 1891. At this sale, one extraordinary example of a lunette spearhead (now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art) was bought by General Pitt Rivers and displayed in his museum in Farnham, Dorset. The spearhead’s origins in the Roots collection and similarity to other spearheads from Selborne/Blackmoor suggests that it came from the same hoard.

This spearhead remained in the Pitt Rivers collections until the Farnham Museum closed in 1966, when much of the collection was dispersed to the Salisbury Museum and private collectors. Sometime after, the spearhead became part of Lord McAlpine’s extensive collection. After getting involved in the restoration of the Victorian town of Broome in Western Australia, Lord McAlpine sold off much of his private estate and collections, including the spearhead, to the New York art dealer Peter Sharrer. Sharrer donated the spearhead to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1998, along some other Bronze Age objects originally from the Roots Collection, where it is on display in Room 301, one of the few representations of the British Bronze Age in the Met.

While originally interpreted as representing a ‘founder’s hoard’ (i.e. containing a mix of broken metal objects for melting and re-using at a later time), recent research suggests that these objects were being purposely deposited in the ground in a particular, possibly ritualistic, manner. Also, rather than being used in everyday struggles or battles, the weapons found in such hoards may more likely be representative of social status and a ‘warrior aesthetic’ that developed later in the Bronze Age. A recent analysis of MBA-EIA (Early Iron Age) skulls found in the Thames shows that almost all exhibit blunt force injuries, at a time when the archaeological record is dominated by edged weapons, such as swords and spears. Not only does this have implications for the massive record of elaborate bronze weapons found in the Thames and other watery locations, but for all weapon hoards. Perhaps this explains why we get such elaborate and beautiful examples of weapons both from the Thames and from LBA hoards; the Metropolitan Museum of Art describes the Selborne spearhead as representing the

…highest tradition of the British Bronze Age. The piece is undeniably beautiful: its shape is elegant and spare to the point of evoking modern art. The raised rib in the middle, which also outlines the half-moon or lunette openings, may have been designed as a blood channel.

Help us find out more about the Selborne-Blackmoor hoard! If you are interested in helping us research and enrich our knowledge of the Bronze Age, please join us at MicroPasts.

The MicroPasts project team is led by Professor Andy Bevan (Institute of Archaeology (IOA), UCL) and co-investigated by Daniel Pett and Rachael Sparks (IOA, UCL). The British Museum Bronze Age Index is managed by Jennifer Wexler in collaboration with Neil Wilkin and Chiara Bonacchi (IOA, UCL) and Adi Keinan-Schoonbaert (IOA, UCL) are the principal researchers.

The Project is supported by the Arts and Humanities Research Council.

Filed under: Archaeology, , , , ,

Voices of the British Museum

Liam O’Connor, artist

I am creating an archive of audio interviews with the staff of the British Museum, the subject of which is a museum object or space they have developed a significant personal connection with as part of their work.

'WCEC Excavation' 2012 © Liam O'Connor

‘WCEC Excavation’ 2012 © Liam O’Connor

Between 2010 and 2014 I was artist in residence on the construction of the World Conservation and Exhibitions Centre, a new building at the British Museum. Although my efforts were focused on the building site, I also received a privileged insight into the workings of the place through conversations with a wide variety of people who work at the Museum.

My understanding of particular objects and spaces around the Museum has been greatly enriched by talking to the people who have invested time and emotion in them. I am intrigued by how these objects and spaces that belong to everyone seem to bear a great significance to certain individuals, and believe the stories of how and why are important to capture.

The British Museum, as an idea, is a place where a diverse range of people are brought together for a common purpose, a place and a collection that has endured through many generations of staff and visitors, it is a collection and a building that weaves all those generations together.

The objects and spaces of the Museum are vessels for meaning and memory; they are constantly being adopted into new narratives by staff and visitors. The aim of these interviews is to reveal the small memories, invested in the museum and its collection, that overlap and sustain this fantastic institution through generations reaching back into the past and forward into the future.

Internally, among staff I have discovered a tradition of stories being passed from previous generations to the present – characters and events long since gone are still present within the Museum. It would be amazing if in fifty or a hundred years from now a conservator, curator, security guard could listen to the person give an account of working on that same object or within that same space from today.

Painting on silk showing Buddha (probably Śākyamuni) preaching in a Paradise composition. From the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas, Dunhuang, Gansu province, China. Tang Dynasty, c. AD 701-750 (1919,0101,0.6)

Painting on silk showing Buddha (probably Śākyamuni) preaching in a Paradise composition. From the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas, Dunhuang, Gansu province, China. Tang Dynasty, 8th century (1919,0101,0.6)

The voice is important in this project; the voice of an individual is much more captivating and engaging than a written text, and somehow more immediate than a video combining sight and sound.

The background sounds also provide another layer; the secret door in the Enlightenment Gallery creaking open in Bryony Shepherd’s interview, and the rolling rack revealing the painting in Clarissa von Spee’s interview. These all start to contribute to a soundscape that is another layer in describing the British Museum. This is something I didn’t think about until I started listening back to the interviews; for me this is an exciting discovery.

As part of the interview, I also want to capture the journey that lead each person to working at the Museum. I want to understand the diversity of paths that all lead to the same place. I arrived here purely by chance, approaching the Museum to ask if I could study their building site, I didn’t have any ideas to investigate the Museum itself, but I have received an invaluable education from the place purely through talking to people who work here, it is their enthusiasm for their subjects and objects that has encouraged and strengthened my own enthusiasm for the place.

Door panels and lintel  from the palace of the Ogoga (king) of Ikere in Nigeria. They depict the arrival of a British administrator in the Ogoga’s palace around 1899-1901. Af1924,-.135.a-b

Door panels and lintel from the palace of the Ogoga (king) of Ikere in Nigeria. They depict the arrival of a British administrator in the Ogoga’s palace around 1899-1901. Af1924,-.135.a-b

I like exploring the rituals, patterns and the accumulation of time that bind us to objects and places in physical and imagined ways. This takes the form of revealing meaning or narratives that individuals project onto spaces and objects that otherwise remain hidden to everyone else.

I invest huge amounts of time in single objects or drawings or spaces as part of my work, this repeated attention shown to something creates a deep bond that is hugely important in placing memory and meaning in something physical. I also make drawings and objects that are only the trace or evidence of the actual work, where the work exists in the story of how the object was made or the performance/investment of time in making it.

The Museum’s objects, as beautiful and magnificent as they are, will always rely heavily on the devotion of the people who work with them day to day, the energy they invest in them is infectious, bringing them to life for the rest of us.

I have only recently begun this project, so far I have 10 interviews, but I want to collect many more. I hope this project will provide a rich archive of material for the Museum, which will become more interesting over time, as the Museum changes, but also the interviews are individual pieces of storytelling that could provide an alternative audio guide for museum visitors, that further enrich the mythology of the British Museum.

Room 1: Enlightenment Gallery

Room 1: Enlightenment Gallery

Voices of the British Museum is being hosted on the British Museum’s Soundcloud channel, where you can find recordings of events, Audio Descriptions, and other audio.

Liam O’Connor (@liamoconnor919) is currently artist in residence at the Victoria and Albert Museum, making work in response to their Exhibition Road Building Project.

Filed under: At the Museum, , ,

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This is Room 56, the Raymond and Beverly Sackler Gallery of Mesopotamia 6000–1500 BC. It's the next in our gallery series for #MuseumOfTheFuture. Between 6000 and 1550 BC, Mesopotamia, the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers (now Iraq, north-east Syria and part of south-east Turkey) witnessed crucial advancements in the development of human civilisation during the evolution from small agricultural settlements to large cities.
Objects on display in Room 56 illustrate economic success based on agriculture, the invention of writing, developments in technology and artistry, and other achievements of the Sumerians, Akkadians and Babylonians, who lived in Mesopotamia at this time.
Objects found at the Royal Cemetery at Ur are of particular importance, and you can see the Royal Game of Ur in the foreground of this picture – the oldest board game in the world. Our next #MuseumOfTheFuture gallery space is Room 55, the Raymond and Beverly Sackler Gallery of Mesopotamia 1500–539 BC. The civilisations of Babylonia and Assyria flourished during the first millennium BC. Political developments resulted in the incorporation of the entire Near East into a single empire, while increased international contact and trade influenced the material culture of the region.
Room 55 traces the history of Babylonia under the Kassites and the growth of the Babylonian state and empire until it was taken over by the Persian King Cyrus in 539 BC.
'Boundary Stones' carved with images of kings and symbols of the gods record royal land grants. The development of the Assyrian state and empire, until its fall in 612 BC, is illustrated by objects excavated in its palaces. Mesopotamia’s highly developed literature and learning are demonstrated by clay tablets from the library of King Ashurbanipal (r. 668–631 BC) at Nineveh, written in cuneiform script. It's time for Room 54 in our #MuseumOfTheFuture gallery series – the Raymond and Beverly Sackler Gallery of Anatolia and Urartu 7000–300 BC. Ancient Anatolia and Urartu form an important land link between Europe and Asia and lie where the modern Republic of Turkey, Armenia, Georgia and north-west Iran are located today. Objects in Room 54 show different cultures from prehistoric to Hellenistic times.
Examples of Early Bronze Age craftsmanship on display include a silver bull and cup, and business archives of Middle Bronze Age merchants illustrate trading between central Anatolia and Mesopotamia (modern Iraq). Delicate gold jewellery and figurines date from the Hittite period, and Iron Age objects from Urartu include winged bulls and griffins that were used to decorate furniture. Next in our #MuseumOfTheFuture series of gallery spaces it's Room 53, the Raymond and Beverly Sackler Gallery of Ancient South Arabia. Ancient South Arabia was centred on what is now modern Yemen but included parts of Saudi Arabia and southern Oman. It was famous in the ancient world as an important source of valuable incense and perfume, and was described by Classical writers as Arabia Felix ('Fortunate Arabia') because of its fertility.
Several important kingdoms flourished there at different times between 1000 BC and the rise of Islam in the 6th century AD. The oldest and most important of these was Saba, which is referred to as Sheba in the Bible.
Room 53 features highlights from the Museum’s collection, which is one of the most important outside Yemen. The display includes examples of beautiful carved alabaster sculptures originally placed inside tombs, incense-burners and a massive bronze altar. You can see the East stairs in the background of this picture. We've reached Room 52 on our #MuseumOfTheFuture series of gallery spaces – the Rahim Irvani Gallery of Ancient Iran. Iran was a major centre of ancient culture. It was rich in valuable natural resources, especially metals, and played an important role in the development of ancient Middle Eastern civilisation and trade. Room 52 highlights these ancient interconnections and the rise of distinctive local cultures, such as in Luristan, during the age of migrations after about 1400 BC.
During the 6th century BC, Cyrus the Great founded a mighty Persian empire which eventually stretched from Egypt to Pakistan. Objects on display from this period include the Cyrus Cylinder (in the centre of the picture) and the Oxus Treasure (in the case to the left of the picture). Monumental plaster casts of sculptures from Persepolis are also displayed in Room 52 and on the East stairs.
The later periods of the Parthian and Sasanian empires mark a revival in Iranian culture and are represented through displays including silver plates and cut glass. The next gallery space in our #MuseumOfTheFuture series is Room 51, Europe and Middle East 10,000–800 BC. Farming began in the Middle East around 12,000 years ago, making possible the social, cultural and economic changes which shaped the modern world. It arrived in Britain around 6,000 years ago bringing a new way of life. This change in lifestyle meant people competed for wealth, power and status, displaying these through jewellery, weapons and feasting.
The objects on display in Room 51 show how the people of prehistoric Europe celebrated life and death and expressed their relationship with the natural world, the spirit world and each other. The object in the centre of this picture is the Mold gold cape, found in Flintshire in 1833 and dating to around 1900–1600 BC.
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