In Which I Go to the Parthenon

Nashville: Day 8

Went to the Parthenon! It's something I had read about in every art history class and every art appreciation text book since high school. Since I was in Nashville it seemed like the thing to do.

I didn't realize that it is in the middle of a park. Good place for it, very lovely.
I got up onto it and started walking toward the front doors. Turns out Spiderman was also vacationing in Nashville.

 I almost mistook him for Alien McScribbleface, but he had webs shooting out of his hands, so I knew it was Spiderman.

Actually it was just a little boy climbing on the walls, being adorable. (What?? Sarah your photo editing is soo good- I was totally fooled!) I know, right?

Probably it would have been fine to post his picture online, but I didn't feel right about having his recognizable face on my blog for anyone to see. So I also made up a story in my head where he was a spy in a clever disguise:

Handlebar mustache. Super inconspicuous.
He has this fantastic look, like he's concentrating so hard to stay on this tiny ledge. You can see from his right hand there that he's got a lot of finesse. This kid is going places.

Ok, so Parthenon:
I was confused when I got to the front and the huge bronze doors were not just closed, but actually gated off. In my mind they were the entrance. It was Sunday and I started to think that the website had lied and they were closed. I walked around to the back. Those huge bronze doors were open, but had glass ones in front of them which were closed. I noticed people milling around inside and a sign that said "enter on other side". I walked back around, still confused. But then, clever girl, I saw people entering below where I was. You have to go in on the ground floor. I thought that the *spoiler alert!!* giant Athena was the only thing there. Wrong! So I walked into the air conditioned lobby, paid the friendly attendant, and sped past the artifacts/fancy art gallery to the second floor where I could see Athena.

Being in the chamber felt like it should have been holy. It almost was, and it probably would have been, except here were all of these people milling around, talking loudly, taking photos in front of her like she was Mickey Mouse at Disney World. She's enormous (42' tall!). And beautiful. Pictures don't do her any kind of justice.

I know it's just a replica. And a tourist attraction. But being there was like connecting with something old and real. I began to understand how, in the Bible, the Jews strayed and started to worship idols. She's so much bigger than we are. Even though I know she was created by human hands, she still feels powerful, protective.

I wanted nothing more than to sit on top of that platform at her feet. You can't get close though. It's roped off. Everything there is safely behind plexiglass, gates, ropes, etc. No touchy! Kinda sad, really. I like to touch. I think we miss a lot by not touching. I know, preservation and all that, but we live in this world where we stare at computer screens, iPhones, and tvs all the time. We can conjure any image to these devices that we choose. So when I was actually in the presence of the Athena and the Elgin Marble replicas it would have been nice to experience them in a tactile way since I can see them any time.

An issue I had with the Elgin Marble castings was that they were placed in such a way that walking around them was difficult and possibly discouraged. I understand that they were only meant to be seen from the front since they were part of the friezes on the Parthenon, however that fact did not stop the sculptor from fully forming the figures. The backs have just as much detail as the fronts do. Since the pieces are now fragmented, they have become a different piece entirely. I think they should be appreciated in the round. But, as you see, the Parthenon personnel think of the space behind these sculptures as storage space.

Another silly thing: just out of frame there is a braille sign. I'm all for blind people being kept in the loop, but there are all these notices and ropes that say "don't touch." So, I guess if you're blind you can read about these things, but you're not allowed to experience them other than knowing that you are in their presence. Maybe that's enough for some? I don't know how blind people feel about this. To me though, it seems to fall a bit flat. These Elgin Marble guys are replicas. Replicas. Would it really be soooo bad if folks were allowed to feel them? Just sayin.

 This poor horse. It's in so much pain. Or it has been startled. I'm pretty sure Erin has posted a few Facebook pictures of me with this expression.

I sat on the second floor, just looking up at Athena for the longest time. I also took up people watching. It was funny and made me feel superior to them which is dumb. If I had been with others I would have been making the same comments and doing the same things. I will say though, there are a few fashion mistakes that make you into a flashing neon sign that says FRUMPY TOURIST:

*Balloon-y, high-waisted, knee-length shorts
*comfy shoes/sneakers/tennis shoes (especially with socks above the ankle)
*brightly colored shirts (especially floral print)
*fanny packs (duh)
*jacket tied around your waist- you get to have your arms free, but it's a high price to pay

When I had had my fill of watching folks smile cheesily in front of the resident deity, I went to the art gallery downstairs. There was a fantastic exhibit of photos. Like a good tourist, I hit the gift shop on the way out, buying a few postcards to send home. Back out in the Nashville heat with nothing much to do, I decided to go ahead and write on the postcards. I sat crossed-legged with my back to one of the huge columns on the upper level and leaned my head back into one of its concave grooves. Just the right size and shape for my cranium. Comforting.


I pondered what to write, what life as a magician's assistant will be like, the meaning of life in general, and many other things as I sat there. Thunder began to rumble. At first it was distant. Then it came closer. Lightening started flashing. It was a bit magical, or mythical perhaps. Easy to imagine Zeus flexing his muscles somewhere in the sky when you're at the Parthenon. Finally, deciding that it was a good idea to mosey on, I got up. This is what I saw:

Teach me to wear shorty shorts and sit cross-legged for 45 minutes at a time. It sprinkled as I walked leisurely around the lake. My walk became less leisurely as the rain got less sprinkly. Soon it was coming down in earnest and I had to make an all-out run through flash-floody puddles to my car.
















So ends this detailed description of my first visit to the Parthenon.