A 'work in progress' piece: Illuminating the Past

Olympia, Dion, Athens, Vergina, Delphi. These are just a few locations of ancient Greek sanctuaries which are accessible to the public across the mainland of modern Greece. 

The faded, incomplete facades of temples draw unwanted attention from tourists from across the world, who fight for the central spot to capture an imitation of the photo they saw online. The paths once trodden by worshippers, philosophers and artists are now worn down by the feet of those who are reminded to not touch the marble or are demanded to distance themselves from the barrier. The same visitors find themselves whispering before exhibited artefacts, gazing in awe at curiosities- which were in their prime just every day, functional items and commodities, not ornaments spotlighted and framed by a glass cage. 

Ancient sanctuaries play a different role in our world today to the role they had in the world of those who built them millennia ago, and those who re-occupied and recycled them after. Sanctuaries were at the centre of the city, a place frequented on all occasions (shopping, defending yourself for a crime you didn’t commit, watching a performance, listening to the strategy for the next battle, reflecting on the meaning of life, thanking a god for their generosity). Most importantly, they were sacred safety bubbles away from reality in the probability of conflict beyond the sacred perimeter. 

Now that war once again produces refugees and seekers of safety in the east, the method of conserving ancient sites across the western Mediterranean should be brought back into question. Will the barriers and secure entrances to famous, historical sanctuaries prevent us from receiving the same protection that ancient citizens of Greece could rely on? 

It was highlighted to me a few years ago by Yinka Shonibare that ancient Greek archaeological sites such as the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens, can be equated to Chiswick Women’s Refuge (the first women’s refuge opened in the UK in 1971), the Amnesty International Headquarters, and many other institutions which have played a role in the safety of citizens in the modern world. Shonibare’s ‘Sanctuary City’ installation features small-scale replicas of places of refuge across time, lit up and wallpapered with Dutch fabrics in the interior. As viewers in the darkness of the exhibition, we are welcomed into these tangible buildings. The projection of the light onto our faces as we circle round them and peer inside takes us into their worlds. However, there are many layers of intervention which separate us from experiencing this relationship with the Temple of Hephaestus in its Athenian setting. Shonibare focuses on a small part of its historical narrative, when it protected mis-treated slaves in the ancient world. But now, we must pay a fee, face a queue and attend within its hours of operation. Even so, as soon as we make it past the ticket office and into the Athenian Agora, we discover the temple’s business closed many many many hours ago. Millennia ago, in fact, before the excavations began, before it was claimed as a historical artefact, before its history was discontinued. 

Shonibare’s installation raises many questions. The Temple of Hephaestus, as one of the most ancient maquettes in his installation, can be considered a prototype for contemporary sanctuaries, like Amnesty International. However, this also exclusively draws attention to the problem with modern conservation of ancient sanctuaries since it is one of the only maquettes whose function as a sanctuary no longer exists. 

As a travelling exchange student in Greece, I have become privy to the functions of various historical buildings across the country. I have noticed that most often it is the mosques and baths of the Muslim Ottoman world that have been transformed and re-used as modern spaces. Since Greece is now dominantly a Christian country rather than Muslim, it is understandable why most of these historical sites have had their original functions discontinued. It is problematic to compare the conservation of these buildings to those of ancient Greece before them since they are valued differently according to their proximity to the present. However, perhaps both categories of architecture should be considered as interests of the past collectively. When we see the 16th century Yahudi Hamam transformed into a background for the flower market in Thessaloniki, the Hassan Pasca mosque in Chania as an open gallery space, and the Fethiye Mosque of Ioannina reportedly as a shelter in the rain for carnival-goers, it is up for debate whether the classical sites of Greece are overly reinforced or whether the Ottoman remnants are being mis-treated. 

In a project by MUSEE, led by Kali Tzortzi from the University of Patra, on Understanding Museum Architecture for Digital Experiences, it was concluded that audience engagement in history is hugely important. In their experimentation with the exhibition of a Roman sarcophagus in the Archaeological Museum of Ioannina, the team conducted research into the social behaviour which was catalysed by the projection which they set up on the artefact, seeing that the music and re-enactment of the scenes on the relief initiated gesturing, dancing, clapping and most importantly an intensified duration of viewing. It is this attention to the audience’s experience which reveals the importance of allowing the barriers between the viewer and monument to be broken down. Like the light in Shonibare’s installation, the light of the projection in this example expands the historical experience and allows the audience to enter the space, a phenomenon which is forbidden in physicality elsewhere. 

The use of projection as a mediating tool between past and present has been explored on a larger scale in the Lumiere light festival in Durham, where the Cathedral’s façade was lit up with animated geometric patterns. Although the Cathedral is naturally a space which still offers sanctuary to visitors, it gives an insight into how MUSEE’s project could be developed to break down the rigidness of archaeological sites across Greece like the Parthenon, to give it a sense of its original functionality without restricting it to simply being a beautiful structure to observe from afar. This approach, unlike the changes made to Ottoman monuments, keeps the architecture intact but also prevents the monument from being passive. The geometric patterns of Javier Riera in 2023’s Lumiere even goes to the extent of transforming the Cathedral into a more modern space, allowing it to grow from its originally intended audience experience. 

The examples mentioned show glimpses towards a future where archaeological sites can become more interactive and animated for an audience. When their intervention is thoughtfully executed and does not diminish historical value, the humanitarian principles of the ancient world are allowed to coexist with our own lived experience. Treating sanctuaries solely as artefacts misinterprets their original significance and the gap between past and present can easily be closed by transforming them into active participants in modern social life once more. 

If sanctuaries once promised protection to the ancient Greeks, we must ask whether today’s barriers preserve history or actually prevent it from still living.