Reflections 1 - The Egyptian galleries

When I dreamt up this project sometime last year, I had no idea that there are 37 galleries in the Egyptian wing, and perhaps that is a good thing; I might have felt less committed to the enterprise. But I can honestly say that in every gallery I have found things that surprised or fascinated or maybe just pleased me, and I could never have imagined how important and meaningful this effort has become to me.

Egyptian art is a fitting place to begin a project that marks the beginning of the last phase of my life.  I hope, of course, that that phase will be a long and happy and rewarding one, but there is no way to know that.  But it will ultimately come to an end, so it is appropriate to start with a culture whose art reveals a preoccupation with death and the afterlife.  

It's also a good starting point because it's a topic I knew a bit about, having traveled in Egypt and done some prep work before that trip. But I've quickly come to realize that there is far, far more that I don't know, and these gaps piqued my curiosity. My initial plan  was to look closely at all the pieces I selected and write about them before reading the captions -- an "unmediated experience" was how I thought about it. It soon became clear, however, that both looking and writing were greatly enriched by knowing more about what I was looking at and writing about. Sometimes the captions helped me see details, sometimes they corrected my misimpressions -- and occasionally, I disagreed with something they said.

The Egyptian wing is also a good starting point because, frankly, I can't imagine how anyone could not be fascinated by Egyptian art.  Part of it is the great age, of course. These galleries cover a time span far longer than the time that has elapsed between the birth of Christ and the present.  (I note how I waver between referring to B.C. and A.D. -- the Met's own usage -- and B.C.E. and C.E., which Mary Beard uses in her history of Rome that I'm now reading, which feels less ethnocentric, somehow, but also unfamiliar and forced.)  It's remarkable how stable both religion and representational conventions remained over that long period.

But for me, the main lure of Egyptian art lies in its combination of exoticism and famiiarity. Of course, some of what seems exotic has become familiar -- we instantly recognize as Egyptian the convention of showing the torso frontally and the head and feet in profile. But other things that are depicted -- the gods, with their animal heads; the elaborate crowns and wigs on human figures; the innumerable offerings scenes -- are just strange, and wonderfully so.  On the other hand, birds and beasts are painted and sculpted with great verisimilitude; so are actions of everyday life, like fishing and driving cattle.

Also familiar and easy to relate to is the pleasure that the ancient Egyptians took in things that delight the senses.  I think of material things: small statuettes, jewelry and other objects that I would love to own. But I also think about all the loaves of bread and many other good things to eat depicted in  offerings scenes.  Their idea of the good life was not so different from ours, perhaps, at least among wealthier Egyptians.

Or was it? One question I am left with is how they thought about this life and the afterlife.  Did they see life as basically good, or as basically full of perils that could only be mitigated through constant propitiation of the gods?  With all of the preparation of the body for life after death, how assured did people feel that they would get to enjoy eternity?  And especially, how did the thoughts and beliefs of ordinary people -- laborers, less skilled craftsmen -- differ from those of the people who could afford elaborate burials and priestly ceremonies?

It is also fascinating to think about how Christianity incorporates some of the myths and traditions of the Egyptians and presumably some of the other peoples of the eastern Mediterranean:  the resurrection of the supreme god, the divine mother and her divine son, the determination of a soul's righteousness after death, and so on. 

One thing I have discovered about myself is that I am less interested in writing about the many monumental objects in the collection.  Perhaps that is in part because their complexity makes them difficult -- and maybe less rewarding -- to describe.  Instead, I have chosen to write primarily about smaller things -- about images of people (especially women), about animals, about objects that please and interest me. And it is not surprising that these objects evoke responses about issues that I think about as a 21st century American woman of a certain age: family, sexuality, class, race, aging. 

I am so happy to be doing this!