Rogue Ark
The Archaeology of Public Urban Space
WARNING: This post turned a complete one-eighty from my original intent. During its writing, I realized that a few concepts had to be explored first. That said, Rogue Ark will be a series of blog posts that will explore how the public engages, navigates and negotiates with archaeology in public urban spaces. ENJOY!
It is another stunning day in Athens. Clouds are scarce, the sun rises high into the pale blue sky, birds chirping, dogs barking, and cats are doing cat things while I write to you with a coffee in hand. My view is of rooftops dotted with floral variations, solar panels and antennas that line a narrow street which runs eastward towards Filopappou Hill. It is a good way to start the day.
Church of Panagia Kapnikarea (11th c.) just chillin in Athens. Photo: Scott Coleman, 2022.
Over the past three days, I completed a whirlwind tour of three major museums in Athens: The Byzantine and Christian Museum, the Numismatics Museum of Athens, and the National Archaeological Museum. I also briefly explored the church of Panagia Kapnikarea (Church of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary), the Pnyx (an area for early Greek democratic assembly), and some scattered in-between places off the beaten trails. Each museum had its own particular charm and uniqueness and, in this author’s eyes, dear reader (I had to throw in some Lady Whistledown), undertones of a national narrative. But don’t all museums have this? National narratives. Even the Canadian Museum of History (formerly the Canadian Museum of Civilization) has a national narrative. The name change should be the clue here, though one could argue the latter’s name had its problems as well. However, I argue, that the Canadian Museum of Civilization was better than its current *cough* name.
The Pnyx III. Viewers right is the orators platform, or bema (βημα) next to the tree. Photo: Scott Coleman, 2022.
Unfortunately, museum talk has to be put on hold. Partially because I need to think about how I want to write about them and I need to review the over one thousand pictures I took of the museums before I write about them. Yeah! Over 1000! Can you guess where I took the most pictures?
Today I talk about the archaeology of public urban space. What I will call Rogue Ark. Why the italics for Public? First, let me preface that this topic came to mind as I watched people navigate through public space as I walked from museum to museum and back to my current place of residence. I observed how people engaged with the many types of archaeological spaces that are both interconnected and separated in public space. What was open and not open for the public to navigate. What people went to see, what they saw, and what they did not see, intentionally or not. What they were allowed to access and see, what they were directed to see, what they could see but could not access, and what they could access but did not and, therefore, did not see. The public’s negotiation of space, public space — open-access space — struck me as an intriguing topic to explore.
How is history portrayed visually to the public through the prism of an archaeological context? How was archaeology showcased to the public and how were archaeological features incorporated into public space? What scholars and, dare I say, politicians, designate as important to be in a museum, or in this case an open-air museum (the Agora), and what we designate as insignificant is a topic I want to explore more. I noticed some ancient walls that were not within the protected barriers of the Agora were graffitied while others were not. Why? Also, some ruins had garbage strewn all over them, while others were clean but were not engaged with by the public nor incorporated into the public museum environment. And because Public can mean so many things in urban space, such as a public park, public gardens, public libraries or public museums, with each insinuating a binary relationship with non-institutionalized public space, I need to define how I am going to use the term public. So where should I begin?
PICTURE BREAK!
Some Byzantine ruins in-between modern infrastructure. Its public but access is denied by metal fencing. Nooooooo touchy! Eyes only! Photo: Scott Coleman, 2022.
Many of the above public sites/institutions I mentioned are open to the public but controlled by local and national governments. Even if a public space is not directly controlled by a specific public institution, for example, a grassy field, the space still falls within either the national or municipal boundaries. Thus, an authoritative body has some form of control over said space and Public does not mean all of the public will get access to these spaces for a variety of reasons. For example, some public spaces require a fee to gain access.
UNESCO sites, like the Acropolis, are open for the public to access as they have been designated as important symbolic places for the development of human culture and society (exactly whose culture is a topic for another day). Nevertheless, public access is strictly controlled to protect the site from vandalism and for a financial motive, ticket sales. Unfortunately, not everyone can afford to purchase a ticket to go up to the top of the Acropolis. The cheapest ticket is 20 Euros. Furthermore, these spaces are tentative public spaces under the control of institutions that oversee their development and, in the case of the Acropolis, whose hours for public access are tightly controlled by the controlling authority. Therefore, can we call these spaces public just because the public can access them only when and if they meet the criteria designated by the authorities? Should public space mean freedom to access the space whenever a person wants? A difficult question to answer in a single blog post.
FORESHADOWING!
For my purposes, public means any space that any individual person has an equal opportunity to access and to move about freely without restrictions and pre-designated conditions, such as purchasing a ticket to gain entry. Now, there are some nitty-gritty details that probably should be fleshed out and explored here — I’m sure my colleagues will point them out to me — but this is a blog post, not a formal paper, and by now I am sure you are thinking:
JEBUS!!! GET TO THE F’n POINT.
The point is, when public is the preface to the word museum, it does not mean everyone. Some public urban spaces have restricted access (No money, No entry) and have controlled guidance from point A to point Z; However, some spaces have what I will call “A contained fluidity of movement.” A person can choose to move from A to J, then onto K until they reach Z, or a person can choose to follow A-B-C-D…etc. However, some places dictate that one must move from A to B to C… all the way to Z. No deviation. Other spaces are more fluid and open for self-directed public movement and exploration. Filopappou Hill is one such example and
EVERYONE CAN ACCESS IT!!!
Filopappou Hill is as public as a public park can be! For Filopappou Hill, there are no ticket sales, no need to be this tall to enter, and no waiting two hours after you eat to enter. No fencing to stop you from accessing the hill, except for the iron fence that defines its external boundaries and forces you to access the hill by designated points of entry where you can then follow designated paths that lead you around the park.
F@K!
Is Filopappou Hill public space or is it a public open-air museum? Maybe we should think of Filopappou Hill, not as we do of the Agora or the Acropolis, but more as a Free Range public space — but not completely wild. People cross through designated entry points without conditions into Filopappou Hill and then roam to their heart’s content. No pressure to leave by a particular time, no being told what to see, where to walk. There are pre-defined paths made of stone but there also is a plethora of off-the-beaten trail paths over the hill. Not to mention you can also walk over cut stones from millennia ago and touch all sorts of ancient remains. No authorities looking over your shoulder to say “you can’t walk there,” or “you cannot touch that.” You can access the hill 24/7. In essence, you are free to move about like Free Range chicken on a farm. Walk, skip, jump, run, sing, and picnic as you please, but eventually, you will hit an artificial barrier that will redirect your movement in space and shift your gaze.
Then there is the unrestricted WILD! I haven’t explored this, and probably will not be able to.
So, all that to say, the archaeology of public urban space in its Free Range form is what I will explore throughout the next few posts. Why? Simply, it intrigues me the most. (Well, until I start working with the Agora coin collection). The amount of ruins that litter the city of Athens is simply extraordinary and what people gravitate to is equally fascinating. I am not overly interested in the glammed-up ruins, though they are F@k’n badass. Hadrians Library! The Acropolis! All of it is epic, but I am intrigued by the ruins that people ignore because some authorities deemed them not as significant as other sites. These links to the past, these ruins, located in public urban space are in plain sight. Some are behind a fence, while others are free for anyone to walk all over. Furthermore, how the public incorporates these sites, ruins, rocks, stones, foundations, and more into the urban landscape tells a story about how people navigate, negotiate and engage with the past.
I think I should end it there. That was a lot. More than I wanted to write today, but here we are and I think it’s a good way to start this mini-series.