Objects at an Exhibition

[wendyzski]

seamtrix and I went to the Field Museum to catch the Pompeii exhibit before it leaves in a few weeks.

This is the largest exhibit of artifacts from Pompeii and Herculaneum to ever leave Italy. I've done some reading and watched several documentaries on the eruption, but I was not prepared for the emotional impact this exhibit would have on me.

It used to be thought that the people from Herculaneum had had enough warning to get away because there were relatively few bodies found in the city. Then, in 1982, they started excavating the boathouses on the beach and learned the awful truth - people had run all right, but they ony made it as far as the beach, hoping for boats that never came.



I expected to be affected by the casts, made from the molds formed as the bodies were surrounded by ash and mud. But even up close, it was at first just like looking at a statue - kind of creepy, but somehow it didn't register as "that's a person".

But it was the stuff that affected me most - the posessions that people grabbed as they fled. Somehow looking at the things they took with them somehow made these people more real to me than any written word or photograph ever could. Thinking about who these people were, and why these particular things were important to them - trying to figure out who they weer from the things they left behind.

The items lay in plain glass cases with simple cards. I got through three display cases before the tears started welling up, caught by the image of three simple silver spoons, shaped like little bowls on sticks. They were found on the body of a woman found huddled under an arcade. I could just imagine her as someone not too well off, for whom these three spoons were the most valuable items she owned, and as all she could grab as she ran for her life.

I composed myself until, a few more cases on, I saw a rounded chubby-looking amber figure of a dog. You could see where the cord it was strung on went. It was such a cheerful little thing - not gold, not money, but important still. It was somehow even more horrible for that.

After that, I adjusted a bit, managed to stop sniffling, and was able to look at the things more closely. Many of the rings and bracelets would not be out of place if you wore them on the street today. I actually caught myself holding up my hand, imagining one of the prettier pieces on my hand. I guess small gold earrings, colored gems, and paste-glass imitations are universal.

Just when I thought I was back to being all academic and analytical, I came across the dog. A family who fled their villa left their dog behind, chained up to guard the house. As the pumice fell, he managed to climb up higher on the piles of rock. He was near the end of the length of chain when the pyroclastic flow finally killed him. I wonder if they survived - if they felt guilty for leaving him behind to die alone. I wonder if he had time to miss them, if he was hungry, thirsty, cold. It brought back all those horrible pictures of all the Katrina refugees who were forced to leave their beloved pets behind to die. But there was a space next to the display where I could look like I was waiting patiently for the next exhibit but take some time to compose myself.

But once I got through that there really wasn't anything quite as emotional. I started to be able to look at the items as just objects. There was a particular style of earring that kept turning up - wire ones decorated with hollow gold half-balls, to make them look bigger than the actual amount of gold they were made of. Then there was a pair almost exactly like them but in silver with a few flecks of gold still visible. Then found in a country villa, there was another pair almost exactly like them. I pointed this out to seamstrix, and she remarked that she had noticed several similar styles of armband in the various displys. I guess we learned what the "in" style of jewelry was that year in that part of Italy.

We know so much about these people from the objects they left behind, from the art (and graffitti) on their walls. There was a wealthy woman who was renovating an old villa into baths and inns - she was found at the bottom of her stairs clutching her cashbox. A former slave who had built himself a successful wine business - we have his fountain and a mosaic from one of his bedroom floors. Two doctors, both of whom died clutching their cases of surgical tools. Women wearing hairpins of silver, or bone, or even glass. Someone had a wicker basket full of coins that were fused by the heat into the shape of their container. You can even see the weave of the wicker on the surface of the metal. Several people were found carrying lamps to see through the dark streets. One woman was carrying a bag with what looks like the family silver - two serving dishes, a goblet, silver spoons.

It was very exciting to be inches away from objects I had only read about in books. In one complex, the body of a young woman was found, wearing gold bracelets - one of which was inscribed "From Master to his slave girl". I knelt down next to the case and was close enough to clearly read the inscription. In the same case were some other piece of jewelry. One ring in particular caught my eye because there was a small brownish thing lying next to it. Then I realized what it was. It was her finger bone.

Some of the display was a bit over-the-top. The purple prose in the narration of some of the AV pieces was a bit much, as were the references to all the people carrying small statues of gods who "were supposed to protect them". But in general they let the objects speak for themselves. The items were in plain cases, with dark flat stone slabs and/or tiles to provide differing levels or surfaces. And they felt the need to explain at GREAT length how the small silver ring with the phallus on it "was not considered pornographic". Um - uncomfortable much?

I guess what I take away from this is not just the look of the items, or the history, or the story. It's thinking about how much people are the same, no matter when in history they lived. No matter who you are or how important ot unimportant you are, when all hell breaks loose all you can do is grab a few things and run.

I bought the catalog, partly for the pix and partly because my mother was in Pompeii a few months ago and said she has some books - we can trade.

Said goodbyes and headed north. Stopped at Borders to use a 25% off coupon on Misty's latest hardcover, and to get two Jamba tea infusions for the price of one - yet another coupon due to expire. Slipped on the stairs going down to the train, and spilled a fair amount of both Raspberry/Red Tea and Machta Latte - even got the tea in my hair! But no major damage and not too many people were looking.

From the train I saw a futon frame out in the alley by the trash, and managed to drag it home. lisagems old sofabed has been slowly disintigrating for a while now - the metal framework has come off the sides of the bed so the bed part now rests on the floor when it's folded up, and the support fabric of the bed is pretty wekll stretched out. I've been meaning to replace it for a while, but figured I'll wait till I move this fall. So I'll use the futon frame with the sofabed mattress until then. I've asked jmthane and jmc_da_dmg to stop by after rehearsal tomorrow and help me toss the carcass over the balcony.