In the 5th century BC, Pericles was a central figure of Athens’ Golden Age. He guided the development of democracy and shaped the ancient city’s art and culture in ways that still resonate today.

We sat down with Dr. Paul Cartledge, one of the world’s foremost scholars of ancient Greece, to get to know the real Pericles behind the public persona—and to discuss his new book, Pericles: Statesman, Demagogue, Eccentric.

“What I try to do with this biography is a bit of a balancing act. On the one hand, Pericles was rational and reasonable – not a crowd-pleaser or a rabble-rouser. But in order to persuade the masses to vote for him, he had to be eloquent and persuasive, and therefore he needed to use rhetorical tricks. So he was both a statesman and a demagogue.”

Who Was Pericles, and Why Does He Still Matter?

As the cultural and intellectual center of the Greek world, Athens was home to figures such as Socrates, Sophocles, and Phidias during its golden age—an era known as the Age of Pericles.

Pericles was Athens’ most famed political figure, strengthening democracy, expanding its naval empire, and overseeing monumental projects like the Acropolis of Athens. He shaped policy, culture, and power in ways few individuals ever have within a democratic system.

Pericles still matters because the world he helped build endures. The democratic ideals refined in his time, the art and architecture he sponsored, and the cultural legacy of Athens still shape how we think about politics, citizenship, and civilization.

Pericles: Statesman, Demagogue, Eccentric

Pericles: Statesman, Demagogue, Eccentric is a “nuanced portrait” of Athens’s most famous leader. It paints a fascinating, threefold picture of him as a brilliant politician, visionary patron of the arts, and a man with an idiosyncratic personal life.

Dr. Paul Cartledge is Emeritus A. G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture at the University of Cambridge. He holds the Gold Cross of the Order of Honor of Ancient Greece and is an Honorary Citizen of Sparta. His latest book, Pericles: Statesman, Demagogue, Eccentric, is now available for pre-order via the University of Chicago Press.

The Bronze Age Collapse was a period of political and societal collapse across much of the eastern Mediterranean and Near East around the 12th century BCE. It saw the disappearance of major cultures such as the Mycenaeans, Hittites, and Ugarit. Ancient Egypt was also affected by the collapse, but with less devastating and therefore often overlooked results. Richard Marranca sat down with Dr Kara Cooney to talk about Egypt during the Bronze Age Collapse, including when it happened in Egypt and the evidence for its devastating effects. In particular, they dive into how the period of scarcity following the collapse led to organized grave robbing, not by poor workers but by the country’s new leadership, who reused and repurposed royal grave goods to reinforce their claim to power.

Dr Kara Cooney is a Professor of Egyptian art and architecture at UCLA, specializing in funerary practices and coffin studies. She produced a comparative archaeology TV series for the Discovery Channel called Out of Egypt in 2009, which is now available on Netflix. She is currently researching coffin reuse between the 19th and 21st dynasties, and the socioeconomic and political turmoil that characterized the period. Her recent publications include “When Women Ruled the World: Six Queens of Egypt” (2018) and “Recycling for Death: Coffin Reuse in Ancient Egypt and the Theban Royal Caches” (2024).

The Bronze Age Collapse in Egypt

RM: Can you tell us a bit about the Bronze Age Collapse and what it looked like in ancient Egypt?

KC: I think a lot of people were recently introduced to the subject by Eric Cline’s book, “1177 BC: The Year Civilization Collapsed.” This is often imagined as a horrific moment in history, but it was a long-term development that took centuries to come to fruition. The more I work with the material from ancient Egypt, whether it’s coffin reuse or Sea People invasions or even the Amarna Period, I see the Bronze Age collapse as having planted its seeds way before it became visible.

The seeds were probably planted and germinating at the end of the 18th dynasty (c. 1550-1292 BCE). The Sea Peoples show up in the Amarna Letters as mercenary-type peoples. The letters also mention the lesser-known Apiru. In the letters, all of these Middle Eastern or Near Eastern rulers are saying that they have been taken over by the Apiru or that they have toppled another kingdom. So it all started during the 18th dynasty, and then increased during the Ramesside 19th dynasty (c. 1292-1191 BCE), and ended in civil war during the 20th dynasty (c. 1189-1077 BCE). This was followed by the breakdown of government systems and institutions, such as the temples and the kingship.

This is the Bronze Age collapse from the Egyptian perspective, but it would swallow up the entire Mediterranean with conflict and drama, arguably starting around 1300 BCE and then continuing on until even 1000 BCE, a longer timespan than I think most historians would grant it.

RM: What about Ramesses and the Bible? Is there anything in the Bronze Age Collapse that speaks to those connections?

KC: In the late 20th century, it became very unfashionable to look at the Bible as a historical source. Academics have turned away from identifying historical events in the Bible, except in 2 Kings, where Taharqa can be identified as a real person, and the Assyrians did have battles in Egypt. However, despite its historical references, the Bible has a mythical edge, as seen in the parting of the Red Sea and the swallowing of an army, which leads people to turn away from it as a real historical source, especially “scientific” historians who don’t want to be associated with evangelical truth-seekers.

This is also coupled with the trend to bring the supernatural into Egyptian history, with suggestions that the pyramids were built by aliens and drawing connections with the lost city of Atlantis. This has culminated in academics pushing back against examining the Book of Exodus through a historical lens.

I don’t understand why it’s so shocking and horrible to see the Book of Exodus as part of the larger story of the Bronze Age Collapse, because it’s all right there. You have the diminishment of the strongest power in the ancient world, Egypt. The pharaoh is doing things that don’t seem clever. Something’s happening. Exodus reflects people watching these events unfold and trying to understand them. They’re like, “Oh, my God, the richest superpower has fallen, has been laid low. How could this happen?”

There are kernels of information about the Bronze Age Collapse within the story. It mentions the Ramesside city of Pithom and Per-Ramesses, major centers of power during the 19th and 20th dynasties. Which king is it that features in the story? I think it’s the wrong question to ask. Pharaoh is Pharaoh. It could be Seti I. It could be Ramesses II. It could be Merneptah. It could be Ramesses III. It’s all of them. And it’s all of them dealing with the crisis of the Bronze Age Collapse.

The Amarna Letters and International Politics

RM: Can you delve into some of the other things revealed by the Amarna Letters?

KC: The Amarna Letters reveal how vassal kings could send their sons to the Egyptian court to grow up, become Egyptianized, and then bring Egyptian ideas back to their own kingdoms. But it gets to a point where the West Asian vassals are: “I’m done with this. I’m done with listening to what the king has to say. I’m done with being part of this scheme.” And you see decentralization and disconnection happening among this international courtier class.

When you read the Amarna Letters, you see that everyone is sleeping with everyone else. There are diplomatic marriages between Babylon and Egypt, as well as between Mitanni and Egypt. There are numerous princes and princesses being born, all of whom are connected and related. And I actually think Nefertiti is a foreign princess brought to Egypt for a diplomatic marriage; I’ll argue this in my forthcoming book. However, these strong international connections are beginning to deteriorate.

The Bible’s explanation for this is that it is God’s will, and this reflects the ancient mindset. It is a way to understand massive events, such as: “Why did Ugarit fall? Why did Mycenae fall? Why did all of the cities along the coast of West Asia become replaced by new elites? Why did Egypt have its own kingship replaced?” People often say that when the Sea Peoples invaded, Egypt was the only one that didn’t fall. But Egypt’s ruling class fell. The 21st dynasty (c. 1070-945 BCE) kings of Tanis were called Libyans, and they were Sea Peoples.

Collapse and Grave Robbing

RM: What about the Tomb Robbery Papyri? Do they provide evidence for the collapse? 

KC: The Tomb Robbery Papyri is not one papyrus but dozens that relate to tomb robbing trials during the 20th and 21st dynasties. They’re so interesting because they describe a bunch of rich, entitled elite officials who are systematically plundering the Valley of the Kings and vying for power in a new political system. Looking at it from this perspective changes everything about the Tomb Robbery Papyri.

Previously, Egyptologists had looked at those texts and thought, “Oh, my goodness, the necropolis security is broken down. These hordes of poor people are going into the Valley of the Kings and just stealing whatever they want.” But the Tomb Robbery Papyri reveal officials working against each other for their own benefit.

People are sent to Thebes to investigate, and all people who end up being investigated are associated with the High Priesthood of Amun. They could be a guardian, a craftsman, or something else, but they seem to have the priesthood of Amun as their patron. They seem to be offered up as scapegoats, and they are interrogated and tortured, and names are named.

It’s shortly after these documents were written down, in the reign of Ramesses IX, that we have actual hard evidence for the tombs of Ramesses II, Amenhotep III, and Thutmose III being systematically moved.

RM: So are the contents of the tombs being sold or moved to keep everything safe?

KC: When Howard Carter found Tutankhamun in 1922, it took him ten years to clear that tomb. Of course, he was an archaeologist working with care and precision, aiming to preserve the objects. In the ancient world, they were less interested in that. They wanted the gold. To have gotten to the bodies of Thutmose III or Ramesses II, the robbers had to remove them from their nesting shrines, sarcophagi, coffins, and masks. They’ve gotten in there and disassembled everything. And when those bodies were moved, they were stripped of all of their wealth and rewrapped. Egyptologists used to think, “Oh, that means that the hordes of Egyptians took them and then they were piously rewrapped by the High Priesthood of Amun.” But now we see that it was the High Priesthood of Amun that was precisely the institution responsible for taking the gold and treasures.

RM: So, the elite had a huge role in robbing the royal tombs. Is there much supporting evidence?

KC: Absolutely. The royal tombs at Tanis, belonging to the 21st dynasty, were found intact, a rarity. These foreign claimants to power needed to bury themselves with pomp and circumstance, so they took previous burial goods and used them for their own burials. There is a sarcophagus reused in Tanis that was recarved for Psusennes I, one of the first kings of the 21st dynasty, and it first belonged to Merneptah from the 19th dynasty. It was one of his four nesting sarcophagi, massive stone objects that are as big as your living room, placed inside one another like a Russian doll. That, to me, smacks of extraordinarily defensive burial tactics by the 19th dynasty kings. In contrast, we don’t have any Ramesside coffins preserved. I think this is because they were made of solid, like the inner coffin of Tutankhamun.

But if, like Merneptah, you have four nesting sarcophagi, what was in there that you needed to protect and move into that tomb? And how do you get the lid off? Incredibly, the grave robbers did get it out whole. Most of the other sarcophagi were broken apart to access what was inside. It seems that only this one was moved to Tanis and reused.

At this time, diplomatic relations exist between the foreign pharaohs in Tanis and the High Priesthood of Amun in Thebes, with everyone intermarrying. The Theban noblewoman Nodjmet bore Pinedjem I, a ruler of southern Egypt, as the high priest of Amun in Thebes, and she was also the mother of one of the kings of Tanis. They are in a time of scarcity, with no new stone and gold coming out of the mines, so they are working together to reuse earlier material. “You need a sarcophagus? Here’s a sarcophagus.”

No one has done this work yet. I can’t wait for the technology to examine the gold and silver objects from the royal burials at Tanis, published by Pierre Montet. The gold is thinner. The gold has a weird hammered quality. The gold lacks the skill of application evident in the tomb of Tutankhamun, our only fairly intact New Kingdom tomb. I know that gold is recommodified gold from the Valley of the Kings. Can I prove it? Not with the technology that’s available now. Hopefully, in the future, we will be able to pinpoint the exact sources of the gold and how many times it was reused.

Examining the burials of the high priests of Amun, including men such as Pinedjem I, Pinedjem II, and Masaharta, as well as the women and children buried with them, reveals that all are interred in reused coffins. This suggests they had no access to wood. The sycamore and acacia stands that must have been growing in the Delta were either repurposed for military needs or burned, or both. So, there is no new wood coming into Egypt. The trade from Lebanon in cedar wood and fir has been shut down. We can see that very clearly in the Story of Wenamun. So even these very wealthy, connected men are burying themselves in pieces of their rich ancestors’ coffins.

Karahantepe is one of the world’s oldest Neolithic sites, dating back as far as 9,200 years. Recently, Karahantepe yielded a very interesting discovery: a decorated stone vessel nested inside a larger one, with three tiny animal figurines (fox, vulture, boar). The figurines were arranged deliberately on a plate in a manner that suggests a carefully staged act with narrative intent. This makes this the earliest story told in three dimensions. TheCollector spoke with Prof. Necmi Karul* to learn about this new discovery and discuss what life would have looked like at the Neolithic site of Karahantepe a few thousand years ago.

*Necmi Karul is the Head of the Department of Prehistoric Archaeology at Istanbul University and Director of the ongoing excavations at Taş Tepeler (which includes sites such as Karahantepe and Göbeklitepe).

“The earliest three-dimensional storytelling.”

Karahantepe is a Prehistoric settlement in the Taş Tepeler area in Türkiye, the same area where Göbeklitepe was also discovered. The settlement is made up of four communal buildings constructed side-by-side, surrounded by domestic dwellings. One such circular communal building, dating from 9,200-8,800 years ago, included benches and two large ovens for preparing food at certain times. Small standing stones partitioned the space where one bench lay. Within this context, in a bench fill of red sterile soil, the excavation team made a unique discovery. Underneath the bench fill, they found stone plates and vessels with geometric and animal decoration (gazelle, fox, wild sheep) alongside human/animal figurines and animal bones. Inside a large vessel, the team discovered a smaller vessel, containing three stone rings and three animal figurines, each about 4 cm tall. The animals’ heads fitted into the stone circles. The small vessel was placed on a plate and nested inside a larger vessel.

But what makes these specific animal figurines so unique? Besides, there are several animal reliefs in Karahantepe, carved on T-shaped pillars (see note below) and benches, as well as many examples of prehistoric cave paintings featuring animals. Necmi Karul explains:

“All these [the cave paintings and pillars and benches] are two-dimensional. For the first time, we have a case of three-dimensional storytelling. They inserted the figurines into the circles and placed them inside one vessel that was then placed on one of the plates and inside a larger vessel. This means that their arrangement was organized. It was not an accident.

They also chose specific animals: fox, vulture, and boar, which are also the animals you commonly see on the pillars. This makes the findings different than everything else we have found until today. Therefore, I can call this the earliest three-dimensional story telling. And in this context, we have also some vulture, leopard, and fox bones with their pelt together. Perhaps there are other bones too. Our zooarchaeologist continues to work on the bones.”

Note: The T-shaped pillars at Karahantepe and Göbeklitepe are named after their unique “T” shape. According to Prof. Karul, these served functional purposes as columns that supported roofs. However, they also bear anthropomorphic features, indicating that they symbolically represented the human body. Also, their surfaces served as narrative surfaces: “blackboards” filled with reliefs of animals, humans, and geometric motifs that residents could see while seated inside.

Lost Mythologies That Kept a Society Together

But if this is a story told in three dimensions, then what is the story about? In Karahantepe as well as in Göbeklitepe, animals and humans are depicted on carved stones and pillars. Prof. Karul believes that these images depict a mythology that is now lost but was understood by the people who built the Taş Tepeler sites.

“We are sure that animals have different meanings for different societies. These animals depicted in Karahantepe certainly held meanings to the people that created them. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make any sense to depict them on the pillars. Some pillars present scenes composed of animals and geometric motives. Some even have human figures. For example, a pillar from Göbeklitepe has a headless man on the pillar with two cranes and other geometric motives. This might be a reference to mythological stories that the societies that built these places wanted to remember. If these were indeed mythological stories, the people going inside the building, would know them. This means that there would be storytellers interpreting the stories and keeping them alive as well as the artists who curved the figures on the pillars.

 

In the beginning of sedentary life, the people start to live together in large populations. Before, they used to live in groups of 20-25 people that were hunter-gatherers and nomads. But as they settled down and hundreds of hundreds people began living together they erected monumental buildings that could bring the people together. And these stories, told in the pillars and the figurines, helped keep the societies together.“

Hunter-Gatherers Who Settled Down?

In the earliest Taş Tepeler phases, there is no evidence for domesticated plants or animals: people are still hunter-gatherers but sedentary. This goes against the traditional view that holds that agriculture ended nomadic life. Now, archaeologists know that the so-called Agricultural or Neolithic Revolution is a term that should be used with caution. Settlements like Karahantepe demonstrate that groups of hunter-gatherers abandoned nomadic life to come together in sedentary societies. As Prof. Karul puts it, “they were still hunter-gatherers, but they preferred the sedentary life.”

But how could a large sedentary population be sustained without agriculture? The answer lies in the hundreds of hunting traps that have been discovered around Karahantepe. “This means, most probably, that they had strategies and techniques for controlling herds of animals using these traps,” says Prof. Karul. This way, they did not have to move around to secure their food.

By settling down, the hunter-gatherers of Karahantepe developed a new relationship with their environment.

“Some animals were good for domestication, some not. After 1,500 years, we observe some cultivation and domestication elements in these same settlements. Therefore, we can say that when they settled down, they were still hunter-gatherers. However at the end of the early Neolithic, they have become real villagers; they have domesticated crops and animals.”

The Challenges of Excavating a Neolithic Site

“The works will continue here for at least 50, maybe 100 years. I have less time,” says Prof. Karul as he talks about the excavations in the southern province of Türkiye’s Şanlıurfa area. There is also significant interest from institutions outside Türkiye. In total, 36 academic institutions from all over the world have been involved, to varying degrees, in the research conducted at Taş Tepeler.

“We came together because of a certain question, because of the will to understand the early sedentary life, early domestication and agriculture. Today everyone continues the sedentary tradition that began with the Neolithic. That’s why it’s such an important Era to study.”

There are roughly 220 people (archaeologists, specialists, students, and workers) working at around 10 sites in Taş Tepeler. This makes it one of the largest archaeological undertakings of its kind. The practicalities are far from ideal, though. With summer temperatures exceeding 50°C (122°F), the team has to be on site as early as 4 am.

Taş Tepeler is more than the sum of the archaeological excavations that are taking place at its sites. According to Prof. Karul, it is a multidimensional project based on the following four pillars:

1. Archaeology: Surveying and excavating across the region.
2. Environment: Using paleo-geography and modern ecology to understand landscapes then and now.
3. Heritage management: Göbeklitepe saw close to a million visitors. The volume of visitors is significant and careful planning is required as the other sites will open to the public in phases.
4. Ethnography: Documenting local villages, tools, and foodways that can not only inform prehistoric interpretation but also provide an opportunity to record living traditions.

With the star-studded new Odyssey feature film by Christopher Nolan in the works, everyone is talking about Homer and his epic tales about the Trojan War and Odysseus’ long journey home following its conclusion. With this in mind, Richard Marranca spoke to Dr Paul Cartledge, Professor of Greek Culture at the University of Cambridge, about the context of the epic poems, the technology described in the works, and the messages the Odyssey had for its original ancient Greek audiences.

Paul Cartledge is Emeritus A. G. Leventis Professor of Greek Culture at the University of Cambridge and a Global Distinguished Professor at NYU. He was chief historical consultant for the BBC series The Greeks and the Channel 4 series The Spartans — and has been a guest on BBC’s In Our Time and many other programs. Professor Cartledge is also a holder of the Gold Cross of the Order of Honor of Ancient Greece and an Honorary Citizen of Sparta. He has published major books on Ancient Greece, Sparta, Alexander the Great, Democracy, and more.

Context: Composition of the Iliad & the Odyssey

RM: Whoever Homer was, a blind bard, an editor, or no one, the works attributed to him were recorded in the 700s BCE, but also nostalgically harked back to a romanticized past of great kingdoms and heroes for the events of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Does that sound about right?

PC: Nostalgia was certainly a part of it. However, the epic tradition predated the 700s, when the two monumental epic poems were created and later written down, to the 1200s, when the events celebrated and commemorated in Homer’s verses may have happened. So, the past that the poets, or just “Homer” in shorthand, were looking back to over those five centuries was in a constant state of flux, and the messages conveyed to their audiences and later readerships differed accordingly.

The scenario of the Iliad, a massive invasion of Asia by a vast Greek army, was utterly unhistorical for all the original Homeric audiences. That would only eventually happen in the 330s BCE under Alexander the Great. But the scenario of the Odyssey, involving Greeks travelling around the eastern Mediterranean, was not altogether unfamiliar in the 700s.

The powerful kingdoms and heroes? Yes, there were very powerful kingdoms, far more powerful indeed than the Homeric poets living in their ruined shadow seem to have been able to comprehend. There were also heroes, but they belonged in a mythological world of legend rather than real Greece in the 1200s or the 700s.

RM: I just listened to your Hay Festival discussion with author Adam Nicolson. You mentioned that the Iliad focuses on one thing, and the Odyssey another. Can you explain that?

PC: The Iliad takes its name from one of the two names the ancient Greeks gave to what we call Troy: Ilion, also known as Ilium in Latin. Yet the Iliad does not end with the fall and destruction of Troy, but with the death and burial of Troy’s chief champion. That was Hector, the oldest son of King Priam, killed by the “man-slaying hands” of the greatest Greek hero, Achilles.

Why? Because whoever made this selection from the many poetic tales of a war of Greeks against Troy chose to focus on the “rage” of Achilles, rage being the first word of the Iliad, and not on the war as a whole. A war that was not about Achilles, but Menaleus, the king of Sparta, who was robbed of his wife, Helen, by the younger Trojan prince Paris. The Iliad really should have been called the Achilliad!

The Odyssey, on the other hand, does what it says on the tin. It is all about the trials and tribulations, especially the travels and travails, of King Odysseus of Ithaca. He was one of the many Greek kings who answered the call of Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, to help him recover his sister-in-law, Helen. That took the Greeks ten years of siege, though the Iliad focuses only on a few weeks in the tenth year. Odysseus’s nostos, or return, to Ithaca curiously took him exactly the same length of time.

Naval Technology

RM: “A thousand ships,” they have brought the Greeks to Troy. Ten years later, Odysseus and the others, if they survived Poseidon’s wrath and various monsters, headed home. Were these ships advanced in technology? Who rowed them? Did the Greeks navigate with instruments or maps? If I may add, how did they tell time? 

PC: Let’s be precise. It was allegedly 1,207 ships, not around 1,000. No positively identified Greek ship, warship or merchant, dating to the period around 1200 BCE, when the Iliad and Odyssey are set, is known to have survived. A shipwreck dating to around 1300 BCE was excavated off Ulu Burun, Turkey. It was a merchantman carrying copper, tin, glass ingots, pottery jars containing resin, gold and silver jewellery, metal weapons and tools, and assorted food items. It was sail-driven, reducing the number of crew, and headed, possibly, from the Levant to an Aegean Greek port.

Odysseus’s ships, all but one of which were lost en route back to Ithaca, were described as oared warships crewed by about 20 sailors each. Instruments are not known to have existed, so steering was done by dead reckoning and by the stars. Ships were usually made of cedar using the “shell-first” method, with planks assembled edge-to-edge and sealed with resin.

Motivations for War

RM: If there was a Trojan War, would the Greeks have wanted horses, slaves, land, fame, and the usual things of conquest? Or was it really because of Helen and Paris? 

PC: If, and that is a big if, the Trojan War really happened, there could have been something to the case of Helen. There is documentary evidence from non-Greek areas in the eastern Mediterranean, such as Egypt and the Levant, during the Late Bronze Age that royal women were key players in international diplomacy. But a pan-Hellenic expedition to get her back that lasted ten years, when the real Troy, Hisarlik, was well within range of normal Greek communications and commercial exchange? I don’t think so!

Thoroughly excavated, Hisarlik was densely populated and well fortified, and therefore a suitable target. However, there is no archaeological evidence of a siege, specifically by the Greeks, at the relevant time, at excavation levels VIh or VIIa. The Greek myth of Troy does not envision occupation following conquest, just recovery and plunder. One-off punitive raids for horses, slaves, and fame are plausible, but not the overblown Trojan War scenario.

Modes of Warfare

RM: In the Iliad and Odyssey, were weapons bronze or iron? Chariots? Did they fight in singular combat, small bands, or large armies? Was this era before the brilliant phalanx formation? 

PC: The Iliad is the poem of war. There is fighting in the Odyssey, but not regular battlefield warfare. In the Iliad, weapons are almost entirely of bronze, appropriate for the Bronze Age. But iron is known to the poets and mentioned as used for other types of objects, such as a key part of a chariot. Iron as a metaphor, for example, “iron-hearted,” is quite common. Chariots are in regular use in the Iliad, but not as fighting vehicles so much as taxis to take the heroes to and from the front line.

The storyline dictated that the action focus on individual Greek heroes fighting duels with their Trojan counterparts. However, there are several descriptions of massed, phalanx-like fighting, which probably owe more to the real world of the 700s than to 1200 BCE.

Cleanliness & Medicine

RM: Homer depicts the heroism and horror of war. Can you discuss medical treatment then? And how did people wash?

PC: It is one of the Iliad’s enduring appeals that the poem combines the tragedy of mortality with the glory of the death of a worthy opponent. In the real world of the Late Bronze Age, we have documentary evidence for the use of plants that could have served as medicinal drugs, but we can’t identify the “bitter root” with analgesic and styptic properties that Patroclus, Achilles’s bosom buddy, crumbled over a comrade’s gaping wound. Medicine of that era was mainly a combination of tried-and-tested, hand-me-down wisdom and religious invocation, especially of Asclepius, a son of Apollo. There appears to have been no qualified medical professionals, such as doctors or surgeons.

Bathing in heated water in individual bathtubs was an elite privilege, as the epics and archaeology agree. But cleanliness was a universal preoccupation. Ubiquitous olive oil was widely used for soap, applied by no less ubiquitous sea sponges.

Greek Astronomy

RM: Did the Homeric Greeks have astronomy? Did they represent the mythos stage rather than the logos stage?

A. The word “astronomy” is originally from ancient Greek, meaning the study or observation of the stars. Hesiod, an early Greek poet contemporary with the creation of the monumental Homeric epics around 700 BCE, produced a farmer’s almanac in verse, drawing heavily on heavenly observations. Constellations such as Orion and the Great Bear, as well as the Pleiades, a star cluster within the constellation Taurus, and Sirius, the Dog Star, all get a mention.

But Greek astronomy, in the sense of a disciplined application of geometry to cosmic problems, borrowing from earlier recorded observations by Babylonians and Egyptians, came later. Sometimes the progress of Greek intellectual thought towards the “scientific” rationalism of Classical times is described as a progress from mythos (myth) to logos (reason). But ancient Greek myth could be rational on its own terms, and it was never entirely confined to the rubbish bin of history.

Odysseus’ Return to Ithaca

RM: If I may, let’s return to Ithaca, where Odysseus was king. What was going on there with Odysseus’ family? 

RM: There was the royal family, there were aristocratic families, and then there were all the rest, the families of ordinary, poor, non-elite Ithacans. They are represented in the epic by Odysseus’s servant swineherd Eumaeus and his old nurse Eurycleia, both enslaved and, untypically, born into aristocratic families. Odysseus’s parents both play important roles at different points in the epic. His father, Laertes, appears right at the end, when he is rather mysteriously still alive, having given up the role of king to his son at least two decades before. His mother Anticleia appears when Odysseus sorrowfully visits her shade in the underworld.

But it’s wife Penelope, a Spartan girl by origin, and their only son, Telemachus, who are far more key. Telemachus indeed bookends the whole tale. At the start, he comes of age and wants to know where on earth his dad is. At the end, he crucially helps his father recover his throne and wife. Wise Penelope, as smart and as “full of many wiles” as Odysseus, finally tests her husband to check that he really is who he says he is. His demonstration with a special bow was not enough for her.

The suitors are young men of aristocratic families, claiming descent from some god or hero and distinguished not by their appalling manners but by their wealth in holdings of land and animals.

Q. What level of administration and technology existed in Odysseus’s Ithaca? Did the capital have defensive walls? 

Ask me that question of Agamemnon’s Mycenae, and I could answer without hesitation that the real-world Late Bronze Age Mycenae was the seat of a king who ruled a complex economy with the aid of a skilled literate scribal bureaucracy and lived in a palace on a hilltop surrounded by massive walling. But what of Odysseus’s Ithaca? There is even legitimate doubt as to whether the island so named is to be identified as the real island underlying the Homeric story.

Accepting that it is, nothing remotely comparable to the real Mycenae has yet been found on the island, and not for want of trying or of claims to have identified a suitable “palace” site, minus the defensive walling that any actual palace of that period would undoubtedly have possessed. The bureaucratic records of Mycenae and other contemporary kingdoms, such as Thebes, Knossos on Crete, and Sparta, were inscribed on clay tablets in a syllabic, not alphabetic, script known to scholars as Linear B. The words, eked out by pictograms, are the earliest known form of Greek. The Ithacans of the 1200s BCE were presumably also Greek-speakers, but as of now, that cannot be proven.

Bronze Age Diet

RM: Did they farm and fish? Was their diet sort of a Blue Zone or Mediterranean Diet? The Suitors are described as eating their way through the stores of food and meat at the palace. On average, was it a low-meat diet in contrast to the way the Suitors gorged? 

PC: Certainly, they did both farm and fish, more the former. Their diet would have been the classic “Mediterranean” diet, high in cereals like barley and wheat, with plenty of wine and olive products, and low in meat. The heroes of the Iliad, however, gorged themselves more on meat, partly to boost their growth, physical development, and overall health, in part to demonstrate that they were aristocrats, a cut above the hoi polloi with their vegetarian diet.

RM: Are the Suitors and Cyclopes similar in being breakers of hospitality? 

PC: Spot-on! The plots of both the Iliad and the Odyssey depend on breaches of hospitality. Menelaus suffers the abduction of his wife by his foreign palace-guest Paris. Odysseus suffers the near-destruction of his palace stores and the near-loss of his wife to the suitors, who lay siege to both. But, and it’s a big but, the suitors are human, all too human, whereas Polyphemus the Cyclops was the wholly divine son of Poseidon and a sea-nymph mother.

The lessons to be drawn from their stories were therefore very different. The poem insists that Polyphemus is utterly barbarous. Eating people is always wrong. Eating strangers or guests without even cooking them first, as he did, is even worse. Greek-style hospitality toward strangers was utterly alien to that barbarous monster.

Women of the Odyssey

Q. During his return on the wine-dark sea, Odysseus has affairs with Calypso and Circe. Can’t he just stay with them and be ageless, never dying? Must he return home? 

PC: Calypso, my favorite Homeric character of all, and Circe were both divine in a theological sense. Calypso was also divine in our colloquial sense, whereas Circe was a nefarious witch-like character. But their relationships with Odysseus were as starkly different as night and day. Odysseus stayed with Calypso for seven years, more than two-thirds of the ten years it took him to get back to Ithaca. Allegedly, he was dying to return home when Zeus’s messenger Hermes ordered him to move on from Calypso, but I have my doubts. That he had to get back to Ithaca, however, there is no doubt. The plot demanded it, or there would have been no nostos of any kind. It’s crucial that Odysseus, unlike Calypso, was a mortal human being. One part of the Odyssey’s message was to teach what it was to be human in a good way.

Q. Is Penelope like Odysseus in wisdom and heroism? 

PC: It’s a remarkable feature of the Odyssey, unlike the Iliad, that it features a female character of equivalent heft to that of the poem’s eponymous hero. In the real ancient Greek world, Penelope was indeed worshiped as a heroine. People sacrificed oil and wine to her as a dead mortal, to gain her support in the trials of everyday life.

In the Odyssey, she, like Odysseus, who was also worshiped posthumously, is wholly human but behaves in an almost superhuman way and, moreover, without the divine assistance that bailed out her husband more than once. Their marriage was, in the usual elite way, an arranged one, but the pair seems to have possessed an uncanny similarity in their craftiness and wiliness. Penelope showed hers by telling the suitors she would choose one of them to marry just as soon as she’d finished weaving her elderly father-in-law’s funeral shroud. Every night she undid what she’d done during the day.

That her yarn was wearing thin, however, when at last, after ten years, someone arrived in her palace claiming to be Odysseus, disguised as a beggar. The audience knows it is Odysseus, as do a few other key members of Odysseus’s family and household. But Penelope, Homer’s Penelope, will not allow herself to be convinced, or reunited with him sexually, until Odysseus passes the “bed test.”

Odysseus’ Bow

RM: Not to give away too much of the plot, but what kind of bow was Odysseus able to string? 

PC: Odysseus alone could string the bow with which he proved, to almost everyone’s satisfaction except Penelope, that he was indeed the king of Ithaca, despite his beggar disguise. The bow as described was of the composite type, formed of wood strengthened with sinew, dried animal tendon, and bellied with compressible plates of animal bone and horn. A type of bow that originated not in the settled communities of Greece but amongst the nomads of central Asia.

RM: In your Hay Festival talk, you mentioned that the Odyssey is more than “one damn thing after another.” The adventure is a great one, but it is even more than that. What did you mean?

PC: By that phrase, I meant that, over and above the narrative excitement and entertainment generated by the tales and horrors of Odysseus’s return, the poem has a very big ethno-political lesson to teach. There was no single ancient state of Greece in 700 BCE. Actually, there was no unified Greek state until 1832 CE, but that is another story. Instead, there were Greeks, who called themselves “Hellenes,” it was the Romans who called them all “Graeci,” living widely scattered around the Mediterranean and Black Seas. They had nothing much in common except that they were all ethnically and culturally Hellenes. They believed in a common ultimate ancestry, perceived commonality of language, with dialectal differences, and identified shared social customs, especially religious. What the Odyssey taught along its long and winding way was Greekness, how to be Greek, and how being Greek differed from, and was superior to, being not-Greek.

Homer’s Legacy

Q. Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey are the most important early books of Greece. Alexander carried the Iliad and people read Homer in Alexandria. Are they among the most important books of all time?

PC: They are immortal, eternal, and for all time because the supposed events and personages never actually existed outside the poets’ fertile imaginations. That’s my view, anyhow. But they were originally not “books” as we understand them. They were papyrus rolls, many of them, in the cases of the Iliad and Odyssey. Most ancient Greeks did not read Homer. They heard the poetry and memorized what they heard. Papyrus reed was an expensive import from Egypt, and it took an age to write out the Iliad’s 1500 and the Odyssey’s 1200 lines of hexameter verses. And it then required a practiced eye and the patience of Job to read them as texts.

Alexander’s Iliad text, comprising several scrolls, was said to have been prepared for him by his former boyhood tutor, Aristotle, the smartest guy in the whole Greek world of that time. But I’d bet my bottom dollar that the writing was actually done by one or more skilled enslaved persons to the master’s dictation. What was good enough for Alexander proved good enough for the entire Western literary and cultural tradition. Although Homer is now almost always read in vernacular translations, not the original, archaic, artificial, epic, dialect of Greek.

RM: A while back, you mentioned that you weren’t favorable to the movie Troy (2004) and hadn’t seen The Return (2024). What are you hoping for with the upcoming Chris Nolan Odyssey? It stars Matt Damon, Charlize Theron, Tom Holland, Robert Pattison, Anne Hathaway and others. Quite a cast.

PC: What a cast indeed! And what a director! But will Nolan go for magical-realism? It would be very appropriate for at least some parts of the Odyssey! Or will he embrace realist-realism in the manner of Petersen’s Troy (2004), in which there were no gods or goddesses, apart from a paddling Thetis played by Julia Christie? Or will it be something in between, recalling, say, Jason and the Argonauts (1963), an old-style adventure story with stunning special effects for the day, 1963? I hope the latter. The original epic poem is the classic picaresque tale, tricked out with monsters, magic, and sex. Nolan can’t go wrong, can he?

In a discussion with TheCollector, Jill Cook, Keeper of the Department of Britain, Europe, and Prehistory at the British Museum, tells us about her latest book, “Ice Age Art Now” by British Museum Press. The conversation explored the concept and nature of Ice Age art, its connection to modern art, the enduring nature of emotion in art, some questions about future research, and more.

The full video interview is available at the end of this article.

An Artistic Renaissance During the Ice Age?

“Ice Age Art Now” focuses on a specific period of the Ice Age, spanning from 24,000 to 12,000 years ago. While there is art predating this period, Cook explains that this timeframe was chosen because it aligns best with the British Museum’s collection and also marks the beginning of a remarkable renaissance in image-making.

This artistic flourishing occurred after a period of intense cold, known as the Last Glacial Maximum (around 20,000 years ago). During this time, ice sheets extended far south across northern Europe, sea levels were significantly lower, and the climate was extremely dry due to much of the world’s water being locked in ice. This led to a scarcity of water for animals, forcing them and the people who followed them to migrate south. Consequently, Central and Northern Europe became largely uninhabited, with humans on the verge of extinction in the region. As the climate began to warm around 18,000 years ago, people started to repopulate their former territories, following the animals. By 14,000 years ago, some even reached Britain, which was still connected to mainland Europe by a land bridge.

Archaeological records from this period show bone, antler, ivory, and stone pieces adorned with drawings and sculptures. A key characteristic of this later Ice Age art is its emphasis on patterns and drawing, primarily depicting animals and demonstrating a strong connection to nature. Cave painting, which had been ongoing, continued into this period. However, particularly interesting is what’s happening outside of the caves:

“What’s happening outside is this amazing love of drawing using a stone engraving tool, we call burin, which was held like a pencil. In their drawings, the humans depict the animals around them, reflecting how very much part of nature at this time people were. They draw realistically, or they abstract, sometimes they sculpt.”

“The need to make art is the same”

Cook explains that “there’s no singular birth of art”. Art emerges globally and at different times, “where it is needed, where it is wanted.” This fundamental human urge to create is a constant across history:

“The need to make art is the same as it’s always been amongst us as people with emotions and feelings. It arises in order to provide all sorts of senses of identity, of heritage, of connection, status, power, of spiritual well-being as well as acknowledging and connecting with the spiritual world and the realms of the cosmos. So any or all of these things might apply at any time. What we’re looking at during the Ice Age is those things expressed in the knowledge of the world of the time. So, when you talk about perspective in the late Ice Age art, it’s not perspective in the sense of an architectural perspective as you have it in the historic Renaissance, but definitely, you have the position of animals one to another, which showed distance and composition within a landscape. So, what is drawn will depend on your economic, social, historic context. The reasons for doing art remain very much the same.”

She further explores the idea of art as a language. Much like today, art back then, through various patterns and symbols, communicated certain meanings, “just as if you or I were wearing a t-shirt with a sports logo on it, we would recognise that”. However, after a few thousand years these meanings are lost to us, but still we surely know  that through their art, the Ice Age humans “are communicating something.”

The Modernists and Ice Age Art

The Impressionists and many other modern artists, such as Picasso, Matisse, Miro, and others, found inspiration in Ice Age art.

“When the Cave of Altamira was discovered, it was doubted as a fake. The accusation was that it had been done by a mediocre impressionist. But then, as more art on cave walls was discovered, it was realised that it was really a genuine thing. So 20th-century artists began to look upon these works and see in them the sort of liberation they were looking for from the historic conformities of art. They could see art without frames, they could see art without outlines, they could see the blurring of lines and effects produced by wash.”

Grief in Ice Age Art

The Ice Age feels “ages” away, but humans were humans back then and are humans now, and one constant of the human experience is the experience of emotions.

“As human beings, those very basics of emotions and feelings are the same. Anatomically the same, our brains are the same. The endorphins and the hormones that govern what happens in our lives are the same. “

According to Jill Cook, recognizing emotions such as grief or love in the art of the period is challenging. Still, she does feel a strong connection when contemplating the ornaments adorning the bodies of children who have died of malnutrition and been buried with the jewellery they had worn in life.

“I can imagine it [the parents’ grief], but I cannot prove it because I don’t have a signed piece of paper saying that this was made by Mr. and Mrs. Flintstone after they buried their children. I can know that they have both scurvy and rickets and a four-year-old and a two-year-old child. They’re wearing quite thick animal skin clothing, so sunlight doesn’t reach their skin. They also have scurvy, which is a lack of vitamin C and that’s because there is a lack of green stuff for fruit and vegetables. So they have a dietary deficiency and that’s brought about by the climate in which they’re living… So these children pass away from basically natural causes, but the way they are so tenderly placed in their grave and the way their jewelry is placed upon them is a communication about the feelings of both the children and the adults. It’s a reference of care, of heritage, of identity, of grief, of love.”

Oh wow! Isn’t that Ice Age artwork lovely?

When asked about her favorite object, Cook highlights a large stone with three drawings of chamois, an “extraordinary composition” that uses the rock’s natural shape as the landscape:

“Chamois live in little herds of females, and the males are lonesome. They just live on their own except when they need to mate, which happens in around September…So what we’re seeing in this picture is a male chamois doing his alpha male ‘here I am’ posing, and the female all ready for it to happen. So it’s a lovely scene, but the fascinating thing is the way the shape of the rock has acted as the landscape. So no drawings of rocks or trees or grass or anything like that, but just the shape of the rock. The shape of the rock has been used to carry these drawings…it’s a lovely piece of almost like a field guide to these animals at that time.”

Cook’s main hope for her book is that people will be able to enjoy the Ice Age images. She believes that despite its important role, archaeology can sometimes provide data that feel sterile. She encourages readers to look at Ice Age art and say, “Oh wow, isn’t that lovely?” just as one might be moved by a Renaissance painting without knowing every detail of its creation.

Looking ahead, Cook believes the why questions about Ice Age art are pointless. Instead, research should focus on “how was that done? Where is it? What is it? When was it?” She’s excited about non-destructive scientific analyses of paints to trace the work of a particular image maker, as well as fingerprinting techniques, which have allowed for the identification of five artists from over 30,000 years ago in the Sauve Cave. She also foresees AI playing a role in assessing patterns, revealing more about ethnicity and heritage. Cook concludes: “We’re not done yet. We’re not even started yet. So, you know, we’ve got to keep at it.”

“Ice Age Art Now” by Jill Cook is available from British Museum Press.

Watch the full interview here:

Few historical events fascinate modern audiences as much as the Salem witch trials of 1692, which saw more than 200 people accused and 19 people executed for witchcraft. But what underlying factors allowed the witch trials to happen in 17th century Massachusetts, and can we empathize with the people who accused their friends and neighbors? Richard Marranca talks to Greg Houle about the factors that led to the witch trials in Salem and his recent book based on the experiences of his own family, the Putnams, as accusers during the panic.

Greg Houle is a writer and storyteller living in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in numerous publications, and he is the creator and host of “The Salem Witch Trials Podcast.” He is a 7th generation member of the Putnam family of Salem. “The Putnams of Salem” is his first novel.

RM: Hello, Greg. The last time I saw you was in that wonderful podcast from Danvers, MA. You and the panel offered a holistic portrait of Salem before, during, and after the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. 

GH: One of the reasons I’m drawn to the Salem witch crisis is because it encompasses so many feelings and emotions that are easily recognizable today. That panel in Danvers included three great experts on the witch hysteria in Salem in 1692: Emerson Baker, Rachel Christ-Doane, and Daniel Gagnon. I wanted them to discuss what makes this event so enduring and address why it happened in the first place. I think that by investigating these most basic questions, we can really get to the heart of why it’s so important.

RM: You said that “the devil was an existential threat.” Can you reach back even further, not just at Salem but in Europe?

GH: As you suggest, the notion of the devil or an evil figure has always been present in Christian thinking. The Malleus Maleficarum, or Hammer of Witches, was in many ways the Bible for witch hunts. It predates the Protestant Reformation, so the roots of this kind of paranoia stretch far beyond Puritanism.

The idea of the witch, or the person who sells their soul to the devil, has been a part of Christianity for a very long time. But as the Protestant Calvinist belief system, from which Puritanism derived, eventually developed, the duality between good and evil, God and the devil, became much sharper. This evil now seemed to be more of an existential threat to those trying to live a Godly existence. The devil would interfere directly with one’s life. You can imagine the paranoia that this sort of thing stoked among believers.

RM: For Salem, you discuss the atmosphere of fear, King Philip’s War, and the failures of the political-religious authorities. Civilization broke down, right? Is a changing, chaotic, fear-based society with huge convulsions more likely to have divisions and scapegoats? 

GH: Yes, absolutely. One of the most fascinating aspects about the Salem witch crisis is how a series of seemingly wide-ranging and not-obviously-connected events unfolded to provide the kindling for this tragedy. As our panel in Danvers discussed, trust in the system was eroding. The very royal charter that had awarded the Puritans their land in Massachusetts had been revoked a few years before the witch crisis. Two decades earlier, the indigenous peoples who had lived on that land for centuries started to change how they dealt with these settlers and were no longer content to allow them to steal it away from them. That shift created enormous conflict that helped to strike a great deal of fear among the Puritan settlers.

Moreover, Salem itself had consistent difficulties with its church leadership for years, which certainly eroded confidence in spiritual matters. On top of all these things, changes were also happening in the economy: an ever-so-slight shift away from subsistence farming. The increasing population of European settlers in New England made land harder to come by and helped foment conflict among neighbors. More immediately, there had been a stretch of seriously cold weather that caused crop failures.

Finally, there was a sense that three generations later, the Puritans were not living on a shining city upon a hill as they had expected. For many, the experience in New England had been a real struggle, and the Puritans were hardly a shining example of Christianity for all to see. Together, this created an atmosphere of friction, fear, and conflict that, in turn, created division. This allowed for scapegoating and cultivated the conditions for this horrible witch hunt.

RM: Cotton Mather popped up in some of the podcasts and I recall, in your novel, The Putnams of Salem: A Novel of Power and Betrayal During the Time of the Salem Witch Trials. Who is he, and did he get pulled in two directions: status quo religion and the new science?  

GH: Cotton Mather was a highly regarded Puritan clergy member in New England during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. His father, Increase Mather, was also very well-known and respected. Both played an important role in the witch crisis in Salem. In some ways, Cotton was a bridge between the first generation of Puritans in America and the newer generations, who were naturally veering off from the original course.

As you say, he also considered himself a man of science. He lived during the dawn of the Enlightenment, and he truly embraced it. I’m not sure he would view this as being different from being a man of God. Since the very early days of Christianity and other monotheistic religions, understanding the world through study seemed to go together with understanding God. I think Cotton Mather would have viewed science and religion in a similar vein.

Most critically, the Mathers had initially supported the witch hunt in Salem, as well as the use of what is called “spectral evidence” against the accused. This was critical because spectral evidence was what those who claimed to be afflicted provided to the authorities, i.e., “so-and-so’s specter visited me or harmed me in some way.” It was evidence that could not be corroborated by anyone else. Ultimately, Cotton Mather turned against the use of spectral evidence, perhaps because he saw how it was putting him on the wrong side of history.

While Cotton Mather earns plenty of blame for his role in the Salem witch crisis, it’s also interesting to see how, ultimately, the Puritan clergy, including Cotton Mather, helped to shut down the hysteria in the end.

RM: You mentioned hysteria or mass conversion disorder and collective anxiety. Did almost everyone get caught up in this, whether they took leading roles or remained quiet? 

GH: Conversion disorder, or what we used to call mass hysteria and what is now more commonly known as functional neurologic disorder, is a condition that many of the so-called “afflicted” people might have been experiencing in 1692. It wasn’t something everyone in Salem experienced during the witch crisis. Essentially, it’s a condition that can cause people to manifest physical symptoms, such as vocal ticks, muscle spasms, and contortions. These symptoms are consistent with how those who claimed to be afflicted by witches were often described and cannot be explained by a physical disorder. Functional neurologic disorder often develops because of stress or psychological or physical trauma. It’s very likely that some of the “afflicted” people were dealing with this, and there is precedent for this sort of thing, even in the modern day.

RM: You mentioned that John Adams had even seen a hanging and Ben Franklin’s aunt was one of the accusers. Perhaps Hawthorne’s lineage was mentioned too. So, the witch trials had broad involvement from every walk of life, occupation, and turn of mind? 

GH: The most striking takeaway that I have from the experience of studying, talking about, and writing about the Salem witch trials is how many people living today have directly descended from somebody who was involved: accused, accuser, or both. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense from a practical point of view, but it also illustrates how enduring this moment in history is more than three centuries later. In addition, the powers that propelled the witch hunt are, sadly, human and very universal: fear, paranoia, and scapegoating.

RM: In your novel and podcasts, you mentioned the brave souls who just didn’t go along. Why do those people, especially the old gentleman, stand against the witch trials? In fact, why do people go along with, or conversely go against, dumb shit? 

GH: I do not want to get political here, but the parallels with our own time are pretty striking. People have gone along with dumb shit for generations! But it’s important for us to keep in mind that in late 17th-century New England, the devil was very real to everyone. Witches were real and a legitimate threat, and everyone believed this. Also, in this largely pre-enlightened period, the devil was also how people explained unfortunate experiences. The fear and concern were palpable.

With Salem specifically, it seemed that almost the entire region got caught up in the excitement in the beginning, but as our Danvers’ panelist and director of education at the Salem Witch Museum, Rachel Christ-Doane, says, there were a series of inflection points that helped turn people against the witch hunt: the initial execution of Bridget Bishop in early June, the flurry of executions over the rest of that summer, and the tortuous death of Giles Corey, who was an old man in his seventies. Eventually, people started to realize that the situation was getting out of control.

RM: Can you mention a few of the well-known plays and movies about Salem? Are they accurate? Which do you like most? 

GH: By far, the best known is Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, which came out in the early 1950s and is often most people’s entry point into the Salem witch trials. It’s a work of fiction, not unlike my own novel, but it’s also, of course, based on fact. The Crucible is an allegory about the “Red Scare” that happened when Miller wrote the play, and there are several liberties he took with the story, many of which, unfortunately, linger today.

Take the story of Tituba, who was an enslaved woman in Reverend Samuel Parris’ household and one of the first women to be accused. Miller portrayed Tituba as a Black woman, but, in reality, she was Indigenous. He also makes it seem as if she were teaching the young girls of Salem about witchcraft when, in reality, there is no indication that was the case. These two inaccuracies are still commonly believed today but can be directly traced back to The Crucible.

While it doesn’t have anything to do with Salem, the 2015 film The Witch, which is about a tormented 17th-century New England family, provides a really good sense of what I imagine the fear and paranoia must have felt like to many in Salem in 1692.

RM: How did Salem get so immersed in witch culture? You mentioned that a million people a year visit, especially in October. (We visit Salem most years, along with Concord, etc.) But the “action” happened in what is today’s Danvers? 

GH: Mostly, I think it’s a result of the name: we call them the “Salem witch trails,” therefore we go to Salem to connect with that event. There was a split between Salem Town and Salem Village, even in the 17th century. Eventually, Salem Village because Danvers and, as you mentioned, Salem Village is where most of the “action” took place.

Most people who walk the streets of Salem, MA, today probably know very little about what actually happened nearby in 1692. I’m not blaming them for that. It is what it is. Part of the reason I started my podcast was to provide a window into these remarkable events—why they happened and what they mean for us today—because I think the truth is actually more frightening.

Over the last several decades, we seem to have conflated this historical event with modern notions of witchcraft, which often dilutes the actual history that took place. I also think that Salem has decided to embrace this for obvious reasons: it attracts people. I can hardly blame them for that.

RM: What’s a good strategy for visiting Salem and Danvers? Walks, talks, museums, farms, and graveyards that one can visit? What architecture is left from that fateful era of 1692? 

GH: If you’re really looking to explore the history, you should go to Danvers, formerly Salem Village. I would highly recommend doing a walking tour with Daniel Gagnon, who has been a guest on my show a few times. He’s from Danvers and is extraordinarily knowledgeable and thoughtful. You can trust what he says!

The Rebecca Nurse Homestead is a great location to visit. She was one of the victims of the witch hunt, and it’s one of the few witch-hunt-era homes that you can tour. You can also see remnants of the parsonage where Reverend Parris and his family lived and where the “afflictions” began. You can see Ingersoll’s tavern, although it is a private home, so you can’t go inside, which is where many of the early examinations of the accused took place.

In Salem itself, the Salem Witch Museum does a very good job of outlining the history of the witch hunt and making it understandable. It’s definitely worth a visit.

I will also say DO NOT visit in October. It’s just too busy at that time!

RM: If we journeyed back seven generations in a time machine, we’d meet Thomas Putnam and his daughter Ann, your ancestors. What’s it like being related to them? How did that inspire you to write the novel? Did you have a eureka moment, or was this a slow evolution? 

GH: It was definitely a eureka moment for me!

In spite of my lifelong passion for history and my familial connection to the events, I didn’t have any particular interest in this moment in history until recently. I’m not entirely sure why that was, but I think it had something to do with my preconceived notion about the Salem witch trials. To me, they seemed like the tragic result of some overzealous, misogynistic Puritan fanatics. It seemed like an embarrassing anomaly of history that wasn’t worth the time.

But when I happened to visit Salem during the summer of 2021 while back east to visit family, I suddenly became obsessed with the idea of what my ancestors must have been thinking during that intense year. What was going through their minds as they made these accusations? Why was Thomas so hell-bent on accusing his neighbors? And what was Ann suffering from? She must have been so frightened. What could have been going through her mind?

These kinds of questions just kept coming up, and that’s what led me to want to write the story from their perspective.

RM: In the Author’s Note, you wrote that you wanted to write a novel “about why the Salem witch hysteria took place at all.” You used many “tools” to understand the why. Do we know more over time, or is it still a mystery?    

GH: We will never know for certain why this tragedy happened. But my desire in telling this story, even as historical fiction, is to use Thomas and Ann as an entry point for understanding how something like this could happen in the first place. I also think it’s critical for us to understand the world they were living in: what drove them, what scared them, what were their hopes and concerns? I wanted to paint that picture for readers as well. And because it’s written in first person, the novel is somewhat myopic. It’s not always easy for the reader to understand what is happening. That was intentional because Thomas and Ann were not all-knowing narrators. They are unreliable in many ways. Confusion, misunderstandings, and misinformation ran rampant.

We tend to flatten out history as time goes on. We view Puritans, for example, as these staid, dower people. In actuality, they were dynamic and multifaceted, just like us. More than anything, I wanted to inject some human emotion into this moment. We can’t simply say that all the accusers were lying or that they wanted to steal the land of those they were accusing. These answers are too simple and not correct. With this novel, I wanted to try to contribute to our understanding of the people involved in the witch hunt. I want to try to show them as dynamic, scared, flawed human beings with a wide range of emotions.

RM: Can you tell us about Thomas and Ann, your ancestors, and the narrators of the novel? Between them, they accused 100 people of witchcraft. Did your family delve into this and tell stories about them and Salem? Was this part of a family or collective memory? 

GH: The lore in my family existed, but it was very vague and much more connected to Ann than Thomas. Perhaps that’s because Ann is the more sympathetic character. What I like about telling the story through their eyes is that they both represent different perspectives. Thomas is the third generation of his family to live in America. His grandfather and father, who was only a teenager at the time, immigrated to America from England in the 1630s. They were wildly successful, buying land and establishing themselves in Salem Village. By the time of the witch hunt, Thomas Putnam Jr. was a 40-year-old man of privilege, but he was clearly not doing nearly as well as his father and grandfather did. With more competition for land, it’s just not as easy for him as it was for them. Because of this, I chose to write Thomas as a desperate and fading patriarch, which, to me, seems very plausible given the circumstances.

In Ann’s case, she is his eldest child. The fourth generation of Putnams in America. Her father holds their family in the highest regard, and so I saw him as putting pressure on Ann, wittingly or unwittingly, to be a “good” Puritan. That’s a lot for a twelve-year-old girl to handle. Moreover, Ann’s mother, Ann Senior, seemed to suffer from some psychological disorder, and that also created challenges for her. In many ways, Ann feels like this idealized Puritan who never had a chance to succeed because Puritanism was just a façade. She is an extraordinarily tragic figure. Both her parents died within two weeks of each other, seven years after the witch crisis. She was in her late teens and left to raise her siblings alone. She never married and likely died a bit of a pariah in the community.

RM: In the novel, you wrote a bit about the hysterical girls and the enslaved Tituba and her husband, John Indian. What was their role in the witch trials? Is it too easy to scapegoat them, to blame them?

GH: I’m particularly fascinated by Tituba, an enslaved woman from Barbados living in this Puritan village in frigid Massachusetts. What must her life have been like? It’s not surprising that she was viewed with suspicion.

Tituba’s story is particularly pivotal because it was her testimony at the beginning of the witch hunt that ignited the flames. She explained that the devil had visited her and offered her nice things and that he told her there were several witches in Salem. Had she denied the accusations like the other two women who were first accused, who knows how the witch hunt would have developed? Why did she confess? We’ll never know for sure, but it was likely because she wanted to tell the authorities what they wanted to hear to get them off her back. Imagine how scared she must have been: an enslaved woman with no power or standing in the community being grilled by the authorities? It was a horrible situation for her to be in.

When it comes to the young people who claimed to be afflicted, I think it’s too simple to say they were all simply lying. Yes, in some cases, lies were certainly told. But, as I mentioned earlier, functional neurologic disorder was likely part of the equation as well because the fear that these children faced, whether it was real, imagined, or both, was extraordinarily frightening. Imagine for a moment the fridged darkness of a 17th-century New England village at night. Your pastor is constantly telling you that the devil is trying to deceive you, and you’ve heard frightening stories about natives attacking, killing, or stealing children. The fear was very palpable for them.

RM: As you said, we “yearn for neat and tidy answers.” But it’s much more layered. Your novel delves into the why. Did writing get you closer to that time and place, to the human condition in general? Is history a foreign country, or is it ever present? Is there anything you’d like to add that we had to skip over? Any warnings?   

GH: Writing The Putnams of Salem reinforced my belief in the notion that people, whether they live now or lived centuries ago, are universal in so many ways. Then and now, we have hopes, fears, dreams, and concerns. We make mistakes, we triumph, we fail, we get jealous, and the list goes on and on. I tried to write Thomas and Ann with empathy. I don’t wish to excuse the terrible role my ancestors played in this horrific moment in history, but I did want to try to understand it from their perspective. My biggest takeaway from this experience is that the human condition has remained pretty constant.

TheCollector recently had the privilege of interviewing Dr. Alejandra Rojas Silva, Curator of European and American Art at the Honolulu Museum of Art (HoMA) in Honolulu, Hawai’i. She took us behind the scenes of Mary Cassatt at Work, which opens at HoMA on June 21. The exhibition—the first of its kind in North America in 25 years—explores the iconic American Impressionist’s career and influence across six decades and various media.

Our Cassatt conversation with Dr. Rojas Silva covered many lesser-known complexities of the artist’s career, from discussions of class to the proliferation of Japanese printmaking in Paris. Watch the video at the end of the article.

“I think what I’m most excited about is for people to understand and see the incredible contributions that Mary Cassatt made to modern art—to move beyond this idea that she is a ‘woman artist’ who portrays saccharine images of women and children, and to see her engage with professional modern life in a way that feels very poignant today.”

Mary Cassatt at Work at the Honolulu Museum of Art

An ambitious woman and innovative artist, Mary Cassatt (1844-1926) was the only American invited to participate in the groundbreaking Impressionist exhibitions in 19th-century Paris. Cassatt explored and elevated the literal and figurative confines of so-called “women’s work” around the turn of the 20th century. Her work was revolutionary—and remains resonant today—because it revealed depth in subjects long considered shallow by the male-dominated art establishment. 

Mary Cassatt at Work is the first major North American retrospective dedicated to the artist in 25 years. Notably, HoMA’s presentation of the exhibition features several works from the museum’s own collection, including The Banjo Lesson (pictured below), which has belonged to the museum since its inception nearly 100 years ago.

Printmaking, Class, and Other Interesting Insights into Cassatt

Cassatt’s distinctive depictions of women feel familiar to us now, but they were considered unusual, and sometimes even radical, at the time of their creation. This is because Cassatt dared to consider the invisible work of women—the details of their everyday efforts and experiences, both public and private—to be serious subjects of fine art.

Mary Cassatt at Work offers fresh insights into these depictions. Among these insights is the subject of class, an illuminating yet oft-overlooked lens through which to consider Cassatt’s work and the people it portrays. HoMA’s presentation of the exhibition also explores Cassatt’s innovations in printmaking. In fact, several of the Japanese ukiyo-e prints that directly inspired Cassatt now belong to the museum’s vast collection. Their inclusion in the exhibition illustrates the full trajectory of Cassatt’s under-recognized impact on the medium as we know it today.

Watch the full interview here:

Mary Cassatt at Work will be on view at the Honolulu Museum of Art from June 21 to October 12, 2025.

The Church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini (Capuchins) is one of the most fascinating in Rome, and is best known for its incredible crypt. The underground crypt holds the remains of Capuchin monks, crafted into symbolic works of art. The site has fascinated visitors for centuries, including the Marquis de Sade, who wrote about it in his diary in 1775. “I have never seen anything more striking.” The crypts also inspired Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Marble Faun (1860) and Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad (1869). Today, we learn more about the crypt and Richard Marranca interviews its director, Pietro Costantini, revealing little-known secrets.

Pietro Costantini has a Ph.D. from the University of Teramo, for which he wrote his thesis about the Capuchin Friars between the 16th and 18th centuries. He has served as Director of the Museum and Crypt of the Capuchins in Rome since September 2024. A fuller profile of Pietro is included at the bottom of this article.

Discovering the Capuchin Crypt

Richard Marranca (RM): So, the crypt, of course, is below your Church of Santa Maria. It’s on the Via Veneto near Piazza Berberini. By the way, the Via Veneto was featured in scenes of the classic movie La Dolce Vita. You are just around the corner from the Fountain of Trevi and Vatican City. What’s it like being in one of the world’s centers?

Pietro Costanini (PC): Being located in such an iconic place as Via Veneto, near Piazza Barberini, is an extraordinary privilege. Our church, with its unique crypt, is not only a historical and spiritual landmark but also a site that harmoniously fits into one of the most captivating areas of Rome. Being close to landmarks like the Trevi Fountain and just a few kilometers from Vatican City allows us to welcome visitors from all over the world, drawn by the beauty of the Eternal City and the profound spiritual message that our complex represents.

Via Veneto is a place where history, culture, and spirituality converge. This makes our environment even more special. It is an oasis of reflection amidst the dynamism of one of Rome’s most famous streets. Being here means safeguarding a spiritual and artistic treasure that continues to inspire and captivate all who visit.

Famous Visitors Over the Centuries

RM: The crypt has had many notable visitors over the centuries, such as Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde, and so many others. Marquis de Sade wrote, “I have never seen something so striking.” Why all the fascination? 

PC: The crypt captivates with its uniqueness and the profound message it conveys. The decorations made with the bones of friars and benefactors are not only an extraordinary work of art but also a powerful reminder of the fragility and transience of human life. The inscription, “What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you shall be,” invites visitors to reflect on the meaning of life and death in a way that few other places can.

This combination of aesthetics, spirituality, and existential reflection is what has captured the imagination of notable figures and continues to profoundly impact anyone who visits this unique site. The crypt is not merely a tourist attraction but an emotional and spiritual experience that leaves an indelible impression.

A Sacred Space for the Capuchin Monks

RM: Can you tell us how the crypt is used by monks and visitors for sacred experiences?

PC: The crypt is a sacred place, conceived not only as a memorial but also as a space for prayer and reflection. For the friars, it represents an environment where they can meditate on the mystery of life and death and honor the deceased friars who preceded them in the Order. This aligns with Capuchin spirituality, which encourages living with humility and awareness of the transience of earthly existence.

Every year, on November 2nd, during All Souls’ Day, the friars celebrate Holy Mass in the crypt. This rite is a particularly meaningful moment, dedicated to praying for the souls of the departed and renewing the remembrance of their journey in the Christian faith.

For visitors, too, the crypt offers a unique opportunity for a spiritual experience. Beyond its beauty and symbolism, it invites personal reflection and connection with the mystery of eternity. Many find in this place an occasion for introspection and prayer, drawing inspiration from the universal message it conveys.

How Was the Crypt Created?

RM: Can you tell us about Fr. Michael of Bergamo? And was the soil in the crypt really brought from Jerusalem by order of Pope Urban VII? Can you tell us about the Capuchin Monks?

PC: Father Michael of Bergamo was the architect entrusted with designing the church and friary of the Capuchins on Via Veneto, completed in 1631. In addition to constructing the buildings, he also designed the crypt below, intended to serve as a burial place for the friars in accordance with Capuchin regulations, which prohibited burials inside the churches.

Regarding the soil in the crypt, there is a tradition suggesting it was brought from Jerusalem by order of Pope Urban VII. However, there is no documentary evidence to confirm this story, adding an element of fascination and mystery to this unique site. The Capuchin Friars, a branch of the Order of Friars Minor founded by St. Francis of Assisi, are known for their simplicity, humility, and closeness to the poor. Their brown habit with the characteristic hood, from which the name “Capuchins” is derived, and their life devoted to prayer and service, embody the Franciscan spirit.

The Macabre Art of the Crypt

RM: Can you tell us some of the basics? How many bodies? What was the process? How did they come to be placed in the crypt?

PC: The crypt holds the bones of approximately 3,700 deceased individuals buried between 1631 and 1870. The remains also include those from the previous Capuchin convent near the Trevi Fountain, which were transferred to the new complex designed by Father Michael of Bergamo. The burials adhered to the Capuchin rule, requiring an underground cemetery separate from the main church.

Due to limited space and the high number of friars being buried, periodic exhumations were carried out to make room for new burials. The bones were then arranged artistically, creating decorations and symbols that now adorn the six chapels of the crypt. The idea of using the bones to create a unique work of art seems to have emerged around the mid-18th century, with the artistic arrangement completed, at least partially, by 1764.

Chapel of the Three Skeletons

RM: Can you tell us a few of the special features of the crypts, such as the center skeleton in the Crypt of the Three Skeletons?

PC: The Chapel of the Three Skeletons is one of the most evocative spaces in the crypt. At its center, a small skeleton, possibly that of Princess Anna Barberini, is enclosed in an oval halo, symbolizing life. In its right hand, it holds a scythe, a symbol of death that comes to all, while in its left hand, it holds a scale, representing God’s judgment after death. Surrounding this figure are crosses made of sacral bones, floral decorations composed of clavicles and vertebrae, and rosettes crafted from jawbones, creating a unique work of art that invites reflection on the mystery of life and death.

This crypt also features three children’s skeletons, placed as a reminder that death knows no age. The remains of Capuchin friars dressed in their characteristic habits complete the scene, delivering a profound spiritual message in line with Christian and Franciscan tradition.

Other Incredible Chapels

RM: Can you share some of the special features of the other chapels?

PC: The Crypt of the Skulls is characterized by decorations made with skulls and long bones.

Three skeletons of Capuchin friars stand upright in niches. The tympanum of the central niche features an hourglass with scapula wings, symbolizing the fleeting nature of time and the urgency of living a virtuous life.

In the Crypt of the Pelvises, the entire back wall is decorated with pelvises and other bones arranged to form a large canopy. The friars rest peacefully in niches adorned with floral motifs made from bones, showcasing how artistic beauty can emerge even from mortal remains.

The Mass Chapel is the only area without bones, reserved for the celebration of Mass for the dead. Above the altar is a painting depicting Mary with the Child and the souls in Purgatory being freed from the flames. It is a place of meditation and prayer.

The Crypt of the Resurrection is decorated with bones forming arches and rosettes. It includes a painting of the resurrection of Lazarus, a symbol of Christian hope in eternal life.

Profile: Pietro Costantini, Director of the Museum and Crypt of the Capuchins in Rome

Pietro Costantini graduated with honors from the University of Teramo, with a thesis on the Venetian painter Jacobello del Fiore, under the supervision of Professor Raffaella Morselli. He holds a Ph.D. in “Historical Studies from the Middle Ages to the Contemporary Age” from the same university, with a dissertation in early modern art history focused on the cultural policies of the Capuchin Friars in Abruzzo between the 16th and 18th centuries.

He is currently a research fellow within the PRIN 2022 project “Margaret of Austria and the Courts of L’Aquila, Cittaducale, and Ortona.” He conducts various seminar activities complementary to modern art history courses and training programs for teachers of all levels on the use of digital technologies in artistic and museum research and promotion.

In 2018, he was an adjunct professor for the “Digital Humanities” workshop at the University of Teramo, and in 2019 for the course “Artistic, Cultural, Museum, and Archaeological Heritage” as part of the R.E.A.L.S.T.A.R.T. project. In 2020, he was a research fellow at the Venanzo Crocetti Foundation in Rome.

From 2021 to 2023, he was a member of the research group for the European project “Virtual Reality Science Tour” (VRSciT), in partnership with institutions and universities in Spain, Portugal, and Lithuania.

Since 2022, he has been adjunct faculty in Modern Art History at the University of Teramo, and since 2023, he has been an associate member of the inter-university research center METArte, focused on technological innovation in art historical, museographic research, and heritage diagnostics.

Since 2024, he has been a member of the Research Unit “Cultural, Religious, and Political Exchanges and Connections (16th-21st Centuries),” coordinated by Professor Massimo Carlo Giannini. Since September 2024, he has served as Director of the Museum and Crypt of the Capuchins in Rome.

He is an adjunct professor for the workshop “Smart Heritage: New Technologies for Cultural Heritage” at the University of Teramo and, from the same year, adjunct faculty in Modern Art History at Sapienza University of Rome.

Few historical figures have captured the imagination as much as Alexander the Great, the conqueror of Persia who never lost a battle and whose empire stretched from Greece to India. Yet, despite his legacy, the location of his tomb and body remains one great unsolved mystery. In a fascinating interview with Dr. Christian de Vartavan*, an Egyptologist and author of “Locating the Tomb and Body of Alexander the Great”, we explore new theories about Alexander’s tomb and body. 

*Dr. Christian de Vartavan (FLS FRSA CMLJ) was educated at University College London’s Institute of Archaeology, where he earned his BA, MSc, and PhD degrees. While still a student, Dr de Vartavan gained world fame in Egyptology by discovering part of the forgotten plant material from King Tutankhamun’s tomb in the Royal Botanical Gardens, Kew in 1988. Dr de Vartavan’s Egyptology research has earned him the rare honor of being part of the UK’s National Archive in his lifetime and is kept by the University of Oxford’s Griffith Institute (Sackler Library). His family lived in Alexandria between 1903 and 1992, where he spent part of his youth.

Watch the full interview here: 

From Babylon to Alexandria: The Journey of Alexander’s Body

Dr. de Vartavan’s interest in Alexander stretches back to his early years, back when his family lived in Alexandria’s Greek quarters in Ibrahimiyya. As he says:

“At the time, the topic of the tomb of Alexander the Great was a topic that every Alexandrian family which had an education would discuss at one moment or another. My family’s interest in Alexander probably started with my grandfather before the First World War. My father, as I became an Egyptologist, drew my attention to the problem, that is that Alexander’s tomb had not been yet found and still hasn’t been found officially.”

Alexander III (mostly known as “the Great”) died in Babylon in 323 BCE, likely from fever, though the exact cause remains debated. His body was embalmed—possibly using a combination of techniques—and placed in a sarcophagus inside an elaborate funerary carriage.

Originally, his generals intended to transport him to the royal necropolis in Macedonia. However, Ptolemy I, one of Alexander’s successors, diverted the procession to Egypt, where Alexander was first buried in Memphis before being moved to Alexandria, the city he had founded.

As Dr. de Vartavan explains, Ptolemy sought to legitimize his rule by keeping Alexander’s body close. In ancient Greek tradition, the founder of a city was buried at its central crossroads, and evidence suggests Alexander’s tomb was located at the intersection of Alexandria’s main avenues. Over time, the city expanded, and the tomb was relocated to the east, probably in the area where the so-called Alabaster Tomb in Alexandria stands today. This structure, Dr. de Vartavan argues, may have originally been the inside part of a Macedonian-style tumulus. 

But what about the tomb’s first location? Dr. de Vartavan, like others before him, thinks that the location matches the one where the Mosque of Nabi Daniel stands today. However, Dr. de Vartavan has also presented some original insights as to why a Mosque dedicated to the Prophet Daniel could be connected to Alexander the Great, but before we discuss that, we first need to understand Alexander’s place within the Islamic tradition.

Alexander as a Prophet

In Islamic tradition, Alexander is revered as Dhu al-Qarnayn or Zul-Qarnain (“The Two-Horned One”), a wise prophet mentioned in a surah of the Quran itself. The name of the Two-Horned went back to the story of Alexander visiting the oracle of Ammon at Siwa and being recognized as the son of the god. As son of Ammon, Alexander was depicted with the horns of the god in Ptolemaic coinage.

Now returning to the Mosque of Nabi Daniel, it is there that lie the tombs that Islamic tradition attributes to the prophets Daniel and Luqman, both revered Islamic figures. It is in this same mosque that the Alexandrians say that Alexander was buried. If that’s true, and Alexander was truly buried in Nabi Daniel, then the Alexandrians never really forgot where the tomb of their city’s founder was. However, as Dr. de Vartavan asks: “Why would Daniel and Lokman be buried where Alexander was supposedly interred?” 

His research led him to the 9th-century Arabic manuscript Kitab al-Tidjan (Book of the Crown), which has yet to be translated but was published in 1928 in India. The manuscript links all three (Daniel, Luqman, and Alexander) as wise prophets, suggesting the mosque’s location is no coincidence. Interestingly, the ancient cistern below the mosque was never properly excavated, leaving all possibilities open. Could the answer to the mystery lie there? Unfortunately, as Dr. de Vartavan stated, excavating there would be almost impossible due to the difficulty of obtaining permission from the local authorities.

Did a Desert Father Discover Alexander’s Skeleton?

One of the most interesting hypotheses of the book comes from Byzantine tradition. In monasteries across Greece, frescoes depict Sisoes the Great, a 4th-century desert monk, discovering Alexander the Great’s body in the desert. Of the conqueror, only his skeleton remains, a stark reminder of the vanity of power and fame in front of the passage of time and the inevitable coming of death. 

According to Dr. de Vartavan, this story may be more than a legend. During the Christian destruction of pagan monuments in Alexandria, Alexander’s body could have been moved to a monastery, most likely that of St. Anthony in Egypt’s Eastern Desert where Sisoes spent the better part of his life. The only way to find out if this is true is to go as far back to the origins of Sisoes’ story as possible. This means that further research is needed to locate the original Coptic text where Sisoes’ biography was first recorded. One can only hope that such a text could offer more clues as to the location of Alexander’s body. Dr. de Vartavan believes that the Greek government has a role to play in this:

“If I were the Greek government,” he says, “I would ask the Coptic Church if they have any tradition of Alexander’s body being brought there [St Anthony’s Monastery].”

Locating Alexander’s body is a difficult, if not impossible, task but the search is far from over. If Alexander’s skeleton is ever found, it could easily be identified by its distinct battle wounds and DNA matching with his father, Philip II of Macedon.

“The chance of finding him is one in a thousand. But isn’t it worth trying?”, says de Vartavan.

Dr. Christian de Vartavan’s “Locating the Tomb and Body of Alexander the Great” is available by Projectis Publishing. 

TheCollector recently had the pleasure of speaking with curator Adriano Marinazzo about Michelangelo: The Genesis of the Sistine, an exhibition held at the Muscarelle Museum of Art at William & Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia. The exhibition brings together Michelangelo’s rarely seen initial studies and early drawings for the world-renowned frescoes he completed in the Sistine Chapel. As a leading scholar on the oeuvre of Michelangelo, Marinazzo has also used this once-in-a-lifetime show to introduce several discoveries in Michelangelo’s work that have not previously been presented to the public. Read on to find out more!

You are considered a leading scholar of Michelangelo, and this exhibition can be seen as a culmination of 15 years’ worth of research into his life and works. How did your journey with Michelangelo begin? What in particular stood out to you and made you want to specialize in the Italian Renaissance, especially Michelangelo’s art?

My first love in Renaissance art was Raphael. In my family home, I still have a painting I made as a child, copying a Raphael Madonna and Child—I think I was about ten years old. But later, I discovered Michelangelo. In fact, during my final high school oral exam, I was asked about the Sistine Ceiling. I was thrilled because it was my favorite subject. Even at 17, I was deeply fascinated by his genius and bravery. Over the years, my research at Casa Buonarroti, the Uffizi Gallery, and the Vatican Museums granted me access to Michelangelo’s drawings, letters, and archival documents. This allowed me to uncover new perspectives on his work and continuously refine my understanding of his creative process.

As briefly and succinctly as possible: Who was Michelangelo, and why should people (i.e., non-art history enthusiasts) care about him?

Michelangelo was the ultimate Renaissance man—sculptor, painter, architect, poet, and engineer. His works, from the Sistine Chapel to the David, define Western art. His influence transcends art history; he tackled universal themes of human struggle, ambition, and spirituality, making his work timeless and relevant even today.

Many are familiar with Michelangelo’s works in the Sistine Chapel, but very few likely ask themselves how his iconic frescoes came to be. So, how did Michelangelo realize these world-famous masterpieces?

Pope Julius II initially envisioned a simple decoration with twelve apostles, but Michelangelo soon persuaded him to embrace a far grander vision. He designed an illusionistic architectural framework and meticulously refined his compositions through preparatory drawings. Despite immense physical and technical challenges—working for years on scaffolding high above the chapel—he transformed the ceiling into a masterpiece that redefined the possibilities of fresco painting forever.

How do the drawings featured in the exhibition help us better understand his artistic process?

Michelangelo saw his drawings as private tools, not finished artworks. He destroyed many of them, but the surviving sheets reveal his thought process—his early ideas, problem-solving, and experimentation. These sketches offer a rare, unfiltered look at his creative journey, showing how he refined gestures, expressions, and compositions before committing them to fresco.

The exhibition is said to provide an “unprecedented glimpse into the mind of one of the most famous artists of the world.” After visiting the exhibition, what do you think visitors will take away from the experience?

Visitors will have the rare opportunity to see a collection of Michelangelo’s drawings that are almost never available to the public, including seven that have never been displayed in the US. They will witness nearly half of the surviving preparatory drawings for the Sistine Ceiling—an extraordinary feat, considering that Michelangelo destroyed most of his sketches before his death, leaving fewer than 50 related to the ceiling.

For the first time ever, we will also present what is likely Michelangelo’s very first drawing for the Sistine Ceiling. Additionally, the exhibition includes four drawings for The Last Judgment, an exceptionally rare set, as fewer than a dozen related sketches survive.

On a similar note, do you think that the 39 exhibited objects form a cohesive story from the first ideas to the final result, or was Michelangelo’s process messier than that?

While the exhibition presents a clear narrative—from initial sketches to the reproduction of some of the completed frescoes—Michelangelo’s process was far from linear. He frequently reworked ideas, abandoned compositions, and made late-stage changes. His evolving vision is evident in the drawings, showing how even a genius constantly revised and perfected his work.

In order to fully appreciate Michelangelo’s studies for his frescoes, one could argue that seeing the Sistine Chapel itself is essential. Since this is naturally not possible, you had to come up with some creative solutions. Could you explain what you did to allow visitors to experience Michelangelo’s completed works without having the original works themselves?

To bridge this gap, we’ve created an immersive experience. The exhibition space is designed with deep blue walls and gold accents to evoke the Sistine Chapel’s celestial atmosphere. Life-size reproductions of Michelangelo’s frescoes allow visitors to appreciate the scale and detail of his figures. We also have a fourth gallery dedicated to The Last Judgment, painted in red to contrast with the serene blue of the ceiling. The red evokes the theme of hell, which Michelangelo was deeply afraid of, as he depicted hell in The Last Judgment. This stark contrast between the celestial and the infernal creates a powerful, emotionally charged experience.

The exhibition culminates in a 3D video installation that brings Michelangelo’s illusionistic architecture to life, offering an unprecedented way to experience the Sistine Ceiling in all its grandeur.

Similarly, you prepared an immersive video, This Is Not My Art, for the exhibition. How did the idea for this come about? Could you explain the title?

The video reconstructs Michelangelo’s fictive architecture in 3D, demonstrating how he transformed a flat ceiling into a visually complex illusion. The title, This Is Not My Art, references Michelangelo’s famous response to Pope Julius II when he was first asked to paint the Sistine Ceiling—he replied, “This is not my art,” emphasizing that he considered himself a sculptor rather than a painter. However, the title carries a dual meaning. It is also a personal statement: while the video is my original artistic work, it is also a recreation of Michelangelo’s masterpiece using contemporary means. In this sense, it’s also a way of saying, “This is not my art,” but his.

One of the things you propose with this exhibition is that Michelangelo’s depiction of God in The Creation of Adam is connected to a self-portrait by the artist, a theory you’ve posited in earlier publications. How did you come to this conclusion, and what do you think the reception of this theory by the general public will be?

I proposed the resemblance between Michelangelo’s self-portrait—where he depicts himself painting the Sistine Ceiling—and his portrayal of God in The Creation of Adam as a suggestion or even a curiosity. It could be a coincidence, an unconscious choice, or a more intentional statement, implying that Michelangelo saw himself as both creator and mortal, blurring the line between artist and divinity. After all, his contemporaries revered him as “Il Divino”—the divine one. Presenting these images side by side allows visitors to explore this theory and draw their own conclusions.

Michelangelo is not the only name to appear among the objects. A portrait of Michelangelo by Giuliano Bugiardini is included, as well as correspondence between Michelangelo and painter Francesco Granacci. Could you provide some details on these two artists who were his contemporaries and if they had any influence on Michelangelo’s own life and works?

Giuliano Bugiardini, a friend of Michelangelo, painted a unique portrait of him wearing a turban, offering a rare depiction of his appearance at around the age of 47-48, between the completion of the Sistine Ceiling and the start of The Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. Francesco Granacci was a lifelong friend and collaborator. His letter, featured in the exhibition, reveals how he recruited assistants for Michelangelo’s Sistine project. Both friends played a role in supporting Michelangelo during the early stages of the ceiling’s decoration, providing valuable insight into his personal and professional relationships.

Finally, what is your all-time favorite artwork by Michelangelo?

Very interesting question. I’ve been interviewed about Michelangelo many times, but this simple question has never been asked, and to be honest, I’ve never really thought about it. It’s difficult to choose, but the Sistine Ceiling remains unparalleled. Beyond its technical mastery, it represents Michelangelo’s ability to merge architecture, painting, and storytelling into a unified vision. The ceiling is not just an artwork—it’s an immersive experience that continues to inspire generations.

Are there any other major projects for you on the horizon?

Yes, I am currently working on an important project on Renaissance architecture. I am also exploring the intersection between art and science, which is the foundation of my teaching at William & Mary. I believe this connection is not just the future of my work but a crucial path forward for all of us.