The origin of myth

A spontaneous visit to the Silversmithing Museum in Ioannina, which left me with an unanswered curiosity about the association of metalworking with the mythology of ancient Greece. 

Observing beautifully crafted silver artefacts through glass is a pleasant way to pass time, especially when the work is even more worthy of appreciation due to the manual labour and skill required of craftsmen of the past whose machinery and tools were less developed than now. I came across this specific museum on a whim, having thought I had visited before but surprised as I turned the corner to be confronted by a monumental architectural feat, growing in the old bastion of the Ottoman city. 

This museum was different to displays of silverware I had seen before. Lengthy, engaging explanations of how to turn silver into a functional item were essential to the ingenuity of the museum. Its typical display of skilful filigree jewellery and sacred objects were accompanied by insightful descriptions of the significance of the art and visual demonstrations of the craft. 

Two descriptions specifically stood out: one clarifying the process of collecting gold particles from rivers in Northern Greece using sheep hides, another about the morphing matter of metal. These two processes, which continued up to the 20th century and beyond, reveal so much about stories told millennia before. 

It was pointed out too briefly that the collection of gold influenced the mythical 'Golden Fleece' and that the morphing nature of metal inspired the magical, divine craft of Hephaestus. Perhaps the museum intended them to be just passing comments about the ancient origins of silversmithing, but they influenced a wider understanding and thought process about how the ancient Greeks developed the myths we are familiar with today. 

We imagine a gold supplier visiting a river known to contain particles of gold, bearing a sheep hide. As he wades through the water, dragging the hide through the river bed, collecting gold, a poor passer-by's imagination is fed. Watching the particles of gold turn the beige fleece shiny, he idealises the working method. The method is one only accessible to those with the skill, and the outcome only to the wealthy craftsman and his customers. To the poor man, the gold is out of reach and becomes associated with the realm of those beyond him, like the hero, Jason. 

Another man stumbles across the workshop of a silver worker. Through a slit in the door, he observes the flames and the molten material, he sees the craftsman moulding the silver, hammering designs into it, transforming it into an object only worthy of aristocrats. It is the work of the gods, Hephaestus more specifically. The craftsman is not the god himself, but is blessed with the favour and skill of Hephaestus. Shiny particles transform, almost by magic, into a beautiful object. 

Today, these processes are scientifically explained. The material is broken down into elemental components. The art is controlled through industrial machine and is learnt by those who desire to learn it. But in a world where the gods surrounded every mortal space, decision, event and craft, the only explanation for intriguing, unexplained things was a force beyond the mortal realm. 

One thing that can be said... just as we photograph and gaze in awe at the beautiful products of silversmithing, the ancient Greeks also did, transforming them with their imagination into objects for their entertainment.