Explore the Ruins of Timgad, the “African Pompeii” Excavated from the Sands of Algeria

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Fif­teen cen­turies after its fall, the Roman Empire lives on in unex­pect­ed places. Take, for instance, the for­mer colo­nial city of Tim­gad, locat­ed in Alge­ria 300 miles from the cap­i­tal. Found­ed by the Emper­or Tra­jan around 100 AD as Colo­nia Mar­ciana Ulpia Tra­iana Thamu­ga­di, it thrived as a piece of Rome in north Africa before turn­ing Chris­t­ian in the third cen­tu­ry and into a cen­ter of the Donatist sect in the fourth. The three cen­turies after that saw a sack­ing by Van­dals, a reoc­cu­pa­tion by Chris­tians, and anoth­er sack­ing by Berbers. Aban­doned and cov­ered by sand from the Sahara from the sev­enth cen­tu­ry on, Tim­gad was redis­cov­ered by Scot­tish explor­er James Bruce in 1765. But not until the 1880s, under French rule, did a prop­er exca­va­tion begin.

Today a vis­i­tor to the ruins of Tim­gad can see the out­lines of exact­ly where each of its build­ings once stood (espe­cial­ly if they have the aer­i­al view of the pho­to above, recent­ly tweet­ed out by Archi­tec­ture Hub). This, in part, is what qual­i­fied the place for inscrip­tion on UNESCO’s World Her­itage List.

“With its square enclo­sure and orthog­o­nal design based on the car­do and decumanus, the two per­pen­dic­u­lar routes run­ning through the city, it is an excel­lent exam­ple of Roman town plan­ning,” says UNESCO’s web site. Its “remark­able grid sys­tem” — quite nor­mal to 21st-cen­tu­ry city-dwellers, much less so in sec­ond-cen­tu­ry Africa — makes it “a typ­i­cal exam­ple of an urban mod­el” that “con­tin­ues to bear wit­ness to the build­ing inven­tive­ness of the mil­i­tary engi­neers of the Roman civ­i­liza­tion, today dis­ap­peared.”

“With­in a few gen­er­a­tions of its birth,” writes Messy Nessy,” the out­post had expand­ed to over 10,000 res­i­dents of both Roman, African, as well as Berber descent. “The exten­sion of Roman cit­i­zen­ship to non-Romans was a care­ful­ly planned strat­e­gy of the Empire,” she adds. “In return for their loy­al­ty, local elites were giv­en a stake in the great and pow­er­ful Empire, ben­e­fit­ted from its pro­tec­tion and legal sys­tem, not to men­tion, its mod­ern urban ameni­ties such as Roman bath hous­es, the­atres, and a fan­cy pub­lic library.”

Tim­gad’s library, which “would have housed man­u­scripts relat­ing to reli­gion, mil­i­tary his­to­ry and good gov­er­nance,” seems to have been fan­cy indeed, and its ruins indi­cate the pur­chase Roman cul­ture man­aged to attain in this far-flung set­tle­ment.

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Tim­gad’s library is just one ele­ment of what UNESCO calls its “rich archi­tec­tur­al inven­to­ry com­pris­ing numer­ous and diver­si­fied typolo­gies, relat­ing to the dif­fer­ent his­tor­i­cal stages of its con­struc­tion: the defen­sive sys­tem, build­ings for the pub­lic con­ve­niences and spec­ta­cles, and a reli­gious com­plex.” Hav­ing out­grown its orig­i­nal street grid, Tim­gad “spread beyond the perime­ters of its ram­parts and sev­er­al major pub­lic build­ings are built in the new quar­ters: Capi­toli­um, tem­ples, mar­kets and baths,” most of which date from the city’s “Gold­en Age” in the Sev­er­an peri­od between 193 and 235.

Image Alan and Flo­ra Bot­ting via Flickr Com­mons

This makes for an African equiv­a­lent of Pom­peii, the Roman city famous­ly buried and thus pre­served in the explo­sion of Mount Vesu­vius in the year 79. But it is less­er-known Tim­gad, with its still clear­ly laid-out blocks, its rec­og­niz­able pub­lic facil­i­ties, and its demar­cat­ed “down­town” and “sub­urbs,” that will feel more famil­iar to us today, whichev­er city in the world we come from.

via Archi­tec­ture Hub/Messy­Nessy

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vis­it Pom­peii (also Stone­henge & Ver­sailles) with Google Street View

Rome Reborn: Take a Vir­tu­al Tour Through Ancient Rome, 320 C.E.

Watch the Destruc­tion of Pom­peii by Mount Vesu­vius, Re-Cre­at­ed with Com­put­er Ani­ma­tion (79 AD)

See the Expan­sive Ruins of Pom­peii Like You’ve Nev­er Seen Them Before: Through the Eyes of a Drone

Pierre Bourdieu’s Pho­tographs of Wartime Alge­ria

Repli­ca of an Alger­ian City, Made of Cous­cous: Now on Dis­play at The Guggen­heim

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Take an 360° Interactive Tour Inside the Great Pyramid of Giza

You can’t take it with you if you’ve got noth­ing to take with you.

Once upon a time, the now-emp­ty Great Pyra­mid of Giza was sump­tu­ous­ly appoint­ed inside and out, to ensure that Pharaoh Khu­fu, or Cheops as he was known to the Ancient Greeks, would be well received in the after­life.

Bling was a seri­ous thing.

Thou­sand of years fur­ther on, cin­e­mat­ic por­tray­als have us con­vinced that tomb raiders were greedy 19th- and 20th-cen­tu­ry cura­tors, eager­ly fill­ing their vit­rines with stolen arti­facts.

There’s some truth to that, but mod­ern Egyp­tol­o­gists are fair­ly con­vinced that Khufu’s pyra­mid was loot­ed short­ly after his reign, by oppor­tunists look­ing to grab some good­ies for their jour­ney to the after­life.

At any rate, it’s been picked clean.

Per­haps one day, we 21st-cen­tu­ry cit­i­zens can opt in to a pyra­mid expe­ri­ence akin to Rome Reborn, a dig­i­tal crutch for our fee­ble imag­i­na­tion to help us past the emp­ty sar­coph­a­gus and bare walls that have defined the world’s old­est tourist attraction’s inte­ri­ors for … well, not quite ever, but cer­tain­ly for FlaubertMark Twain, and 12th-cen­tu­ry schol­ar Abd al-Latif.

Fast for­ward­ing to 2017, the BBC’s Rajan Datar host­ed “Secrets of the Great Pyra­mid,” a pod­cast episode fea­tur­ing Egyp­tol­o­gist Sal­i­ma Ikram, space archae­ol­o­gist Dr Sarah Par­cak, and archae­ol­o­gist, Dr Joyce Tyldes­ley.

The experts were keen to clear up a major mis­con­cep­tion that the 4600-year-old pyra­mid was built by aliens or enslaved labor­ers, rather than a per­ma­nent staff of archi­tects and engi­neers, aid­ed by Egypt­ian civil­ians eager to barter their labor for meat, fish, beer, and tax abate­ment.

Datar’s ques­tion about a scan­ning project that would bring fur­ther insight into the Pyra­mid of Giza­’s con­struc­tion and lay­out was met with excite­ment.

This attrac­tion, old as it is, has plen­ty of new secrets to be dis­cov­ered.

We’re hap­py to share with you, read­ers, that 3 years after that episode was taped, the future is here.

The scan­ning is com­plete.

Wit­ness the BBC’s 360° tour inside the Great Pyra­mid of Giza.

Use your mouse to crane your neck, if you like.

As of this writ­ing, you could tour the pyra­mid in per­son, should you wish—the usu­al touris­tic hoards are def­i­nite­ly dialed down.

But, giv­en the con­ta­gion, per­haps bet­ter to tour the King’s Cham­ber, the Queen’s Cham­ber, and the Grand Gallery vir­tu­al­ly, above.

(An inter­est­ing tid­bit: the pyra­mid was more dis­tant to the ancient Romans than the Colos­se­um is to us.)

Lis­ten to the BBC’s “Secrets of the Great Pyra­mid” episode here.

Tour the Great Pyra­mid of Giza here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What the Great Pyra­mid of Giza Would’ve Looked Like When First Built: It Was Gleam­ing, Reflec­tive White

How the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids Were Built: A New The­o­ry in 3D Ani­ma­tion

The Met Dig­i­tal­ly Restores the Col­ors of an Ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple, Using Pro­jec­tion Map­ping Tech­nol­o­gy

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Tony Hawk & Architectural Historian Iain Borden Tell the Story of How Skateboarding Found a New Use for Cities & Architecture

Would­n’t we enjoy see­ing our cities like an archi­tec­tur­al his­to­ri­an, in com­mand of deep knowl­edge about the tech­nol­o­gy, ide­ol­o­gy, and aes­thet­ics of the build­ings we pass by every day? For most of us, this would huge­ly enrich our expe­ri­ence of the urban envi­ron­ment. But then so, less obvi­ous­ly, would see­ing our cities like a skate­board­er, in com­mand of deep knowl­edge about how to glide, jump, and bounce along the streets, the build­ings, and all the myr­i­ad pieces of infra­struc­ture as a surfer rides the waves. The archi­tec­tur­al his­to­ri­an learns the city with his mind; the skater learns the city, no less painstak­ing­ly, with his body.

The Vox video above brings mind and body come togeth­er in the per­sons of Iain Bor­den, author of Skate­board­ing and the City: A Com­plete His­to­ry, and Tony Hawk, to whom even those whol­ly igno­rant of skate­board­ing need no intro­duc­tion. Their com­ple­men­tary inter­views reveal the his­to­ry of mod­ern skate­board­ing through the sport’s “leg­endary spots”: pub­lic-school cam­pus­es, aban­doned swim­ming pools, dry drainage ditch­es, for­got­ten sec­tions of con­crete pipe. In the main this selec­tion reflects the high­ly sub­ur­ban­ized 1970s in which skate­boards first came to pop­u­lar­i­ty in the Unit­ed States. But at its out­er lim­its, such as the Mt. Baldy pipeline in north­ern Cal­i­for­nia, it also shows how far skaters will go in search of the ide­al place to ride.

Though pur­pose-build skate parks do exist (their num­bers kept low by for­mi­da­ble insur­ance chal­lenges), seri­ous skaters pre­fer spaces not express­ly designed for skat­ing. This is thanks in large part to the inno­va­tions of a skater with less wider-world name recog­ni­tion than Hawk, but no less influ­ence with­in the sport: Natas Kau­pas. Hawk remem­bers the thoughts trig­gered by footage of the young Kau­pas skat­ing mas­ter­ful­ly through his neigh­bor­hood in the 1987 film Wheels of Fire: “Wow, you can skate curbs like that? You can skate bench­es? You can skate fire hydrants? The whole world is a skate park now.” Sud­den­ly, Bor­den adds, “you did­n’t need to be in Cal­i­for­nia, or in the Ari­zona desert, or in Flori­da any­more. You could be any­where.”

Review­ing Bor­den’s Skate­board­ing and the City, Jack Lay­ton in Urban Stud­ies high­lights its his­to­ry of “how the assem­blage of mate­ri­als that makes up cities has been – in count­less ways – re-imag­ined by the skate­board­er to cre­ate accel­er­a­tion, rota­tion, fric­tion and flow.” It’s easy to for­get, Lay­ton writes, that “along with facil­i­tat­ing com­merce, trans­port and habi­ta­tion, cities can be spaces that facil­i­tate play, exhil­a­ra­tion and plea­sure.” Despite often hav­ing been regard­ed as pub­lic nui­sances, skate­board­ers are “a con­stant reminder that our cities are cre­ative and rich places,” says Bor­den. With the excep­tion of the skate parks secret­ly con­struct­ed in hid­den urban spaces across the world, skaters, of course, don’t build the city — but they do show us some of its untapped poten­tial.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ful­ly Flared

3 Icon­ic Paint­ings by Fri­da Kahlo Get Reborn as Vans Skate Shoes

Sax­o­phon­ist Plays into Large Gas Pipes & Then Uses the Echo to Accom­pa­ny Him­self

Every­thing You Ever Want­ed to Know About the Beau­ty of Bru­tal­ist Archi­tec­ture: An Intro­duc­tion in Six Videos

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

An Introduction to Hagia Sophia: After 85 Years as a Museum, It’s Set to Become a Mosque Again

No tour of Istan­bul can fail to include Hagia Sophia. The same is true enough of the British Muse­um in Lon­don or the Lou­vre in Paris, but Hagia Sophia is more than a muse­um: it’s also spent dif­fer­ent stretch­es of its near-mil­len­ni­um-and-a-half of exis­tence as an East­ern Ortho­dox cathe­dral, a Roman Catholic cathe­dral, and a mosque. Stripped of its reli­gious func­tion in the mid-1930s by the admin­is­tra­tion of Pres­i­dent Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, remem­bered for his cre­ation of a sec­u­lar Turk­ish repub­lic, the majes­tic build­ing has spent the past 85 years as not just a muse­um but the coun­try’s top tourist attrac­tion. Now, accord­ing to a decree issued last week by Pres­i­dent Recep Tayyip Erdo­gan, Hagia Sophia will become a mosque again.

“Erdo­gan, like his pre­de­ces­sor Ataturk, appears to be using the fate of the Hagia Sophia to make a polit­i­cal state­ment and score some points with his sup­port­ers,” writes Ars Tech­ni­ca’s Kiona N. Smith. But so did Emper­or Jus­tin­ian I of the East­ern Roman Empire, who “ordered the cathedral’s con­struc­tion in the first place for sim­i­lar rea­sons.”

Built on the site where two cathe­drals had pre­vi­ous­ly stood, both burned down in dif­fer­ent revolts, “the Hagia Sophia has always been as much a polit­i­cal land­mark as a reli­gious or cul­tur­al one — so it’s not sur­pris­ing that it has also changed hands, and func­tions, at least four times in its his­to­ry.” Ataturk’s sec­u­lar­iza­tion of Hagia Sophia entailed a restora­tion of its his­toric fea­tures: “Chris­t­ian mosaics that had been plas­tered over in the late 1400s were care­ful­ly uncov­ered, and they shared the domed space with Mus­lim prayer nich­es and pul­pits.”

You can get a clear­er sense of what the build­ing’s archi­tec­ture and dec­o­ra­tion reveal in the ani­mat­ed TED-Ed les­son at the top of the post. Edu­ca­tor Kel­ly Wall points to, among oth­er fea­tures, the ancient for­ti­fi­ca­tions that “hint at the strate­gic impor­tance of the sur­round­ing city, found­ed as Byzan­tium by Greek colonists in 657 BCE.”; the foun­da­tion stones that “mur­mur tales from their home­lands of Egypt and Syr­ia, while columns tak­en from the Tem­ple of Artemis recall a more ancient past”; and, beneath the gold­en dome that “appears sus­pend­ed from heav­en,” rein­forc­ing Corinthi­an columns, “brought from Lebanon after the orig­i­nal dome was par­tial­ly destroyed by an earth­quake in 558 CE,” that offer a reminder of “fragili­ty and the engi­neer­ing skills such a mar­vel requires.” The BBC 360-degree vir­tu­al tour just above goes into greater detail on these ele­ments and oth­ers.

Accord­ing to reports cit­ed by Hyper­al­ler­gic’s Hakim Bishara, “tourists will still have access to the site, although it might be closed to vis­i­tors dur­ing prayer time.” Still, “art his­to­ri­ans and con­ser­va­tion­ists wor­ry that the Turk­ish author­i­ties might decide to cov­er up or remove the cen­turies-old Byzan­tine mosaics and Chris­t­ian iconog­ra­phy that adorn the cel­e­brat­ed struc­ture, as was done in oth­er con­vert­ed church­es in Turkey in the past.” Good job, then, that irre­press­ible tele­vi­sion trav­el­er Rick Steves has already shot his episode on Istan­bul, which (from 9:34) nat­u­ral­ly fea­tures a vis­it to Hagia Sophia. But whether as a muse­um, cathe­dral, a mosque, or what­ev­er it becomes next, the build­ing will sure­ly remain what Steves called “the high point of Byzan­tine archi­tec­ture” and “the pin­na­cle of that soci­ety’s sixth-cen­tu­ry glo­ry days.” And no leader of Turkey, no mat­ter what their beliefs about church and state, will want the tourists to stop com­ing.

via Hyper­al­ler­gic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Hagia Sophia’s Awe-Inspir­ing Acoustics Get Recre­at­ed with Com­put­er Sim­u­la­tions, and Let Your­self Get Trans­port­ed Back to the Mid­dle Ages

Hear the Sound of the Hagia Sophia Recre­at­ed in Authen­tic Byzan­tine Chant

French Illus­tra­tor Revives the Byzan­tine Empire with Mag­nif­i­cent­ly Detailed Draw­ings of Its Mon­u­ments & Build­ings: Hagia Sophia, Great Palace & More

Map­ping the Sounds of Greek Byzan­tine Church­es: How Researchers Are Cre­at­ing “Muse­ums of Lost Sound”

The Com­plex Geom­e­try of Islam­ic Art & Design: A Short Intro­duc­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

The World According to Le Corbusier: An Animated Introduction to the Most Modern of All Architects

Among mod­ern archi­tects, was any archi­tect ever so moder­ni­ty-mind­ed as Charles-Édouard Jean­neret, bet­ter known a Le Cor­busier? Like many cul­tur­al fig­ures well-known out­side their field — Franz Kaf­ka, George Orwell, David Lynch — his name has long since been adjec­tivized, though nowa­days the term “Cor­bu­sian” is sel­dom used as a com­pli­ment. Many a self-described oppo­nent of mod­ern archi­tec­ture, what­ev­er they con­sid­er mod­ern archi­tec­ture to be, points to Le Cor­busier as the orig­i­na­tor of all the inhu­man­i­ty of build­ings designed over the past 90 years, and espe­cial­ly the sec­ond half of the 20th cen­tu­ry: their drab col­ors (or lack there­of), their depress­ing aus­ter­i­ty, their for­bid­ding scale, their dark cor­ri­dors, their leaky roofs. But how much, real­ly, is he to blame?

“Le Cor­busier rec­om­mend­ed that the hous­es of the future be ascetic and clean, dis­ci­plined and fru­gal,” says The Book of Life, the com­pan­ion site to Alain de Bot­ton’s School of Life. Remem­bered as an archi­tect but both an artist and engi­neer at heart, he thought that “true, great archi­tec­ture – mean­ing, archi­tec­ture moti­vat­ed by the quest for effi­cien­cy – was more like­ly to be found in a 40,000-kilowatt elec­tric­i­ty tur­bine or a low-pres­sure ven­ti­lat­ing fan” than in the cap­i­tals of old Europe. For inspi­ra­tion he looked to mod­ern machines, espe­cial­ly those that had begun appear­ing in the sky in his youth: “he observed that the require­ments of flight of neces­si­ty rid air­planes of all super­flu­ous dec­o­ra­tion,” says de Bot­ton in the ani­mat­ed School of Life primer above, “and so unwit­ting­ly trans­formed them into suc­cess­ful pieces of archi­tec­ture.”

Hence Le Cor­busier’s infa­mous pro­nounce­ment that “a house is a machine for liv­ing in,” which first appeared in his 1923 man­i­festo Vers une archi­tec­ture (Towards an Archi­tec­ture). Le Cor­busier was a writer — and a painter, and a fur­ni­ture design­er, and an urban plan­ner — as much as he was an archi­tect. “The prob­lem is that both his detrac­tors and his acolytes want to believe that his writ­ten man­i­festos, urban­is­tic visions, utopi­an ide­olo­gies and the­o­ries are com­pat­i­ble with his build­ings,” writes Jonathan Meades, some­time archi­tec­tur­al crit­ic and full-time res­i­dent of Le Cor­busier’s Unité d’habi­ta­tion apart­ment block in Mar­seilles. But “Le Cor­busier, writer, has lit­tle in com­mon with Le Cor­busier, mak­er of the century’s most pro­found­ly sen­su­ous, most mov­ing archi­tec­ture”: one was a “self-adver­tis­ing pro­pa­gan­dist,” the oth­er “an artist-crafts­man of peer­less orig­i­nal­i­ty.”

Le Cor­busier’s head­line-mak­ing urban-renew­al pro­pos­als includ­ed, Meades writes, “the destruc­tion of the Right Bank in Paris and its replace­ment with ranks of cru­ci­form sky­scrap­ers”; he also pro­posed demol­ish­ing Man­hat­tan, as de Bot­ton says, “to make way for a fresh and more ‘Carte­sian’ attempt at urban design.” Le Cor­busier’s utopi­an dreams of colos­sal sky­scrap­ers placed in the mid­dle of vast green park­land and sur­round­ed by ele­vat­ed free­ways led, in this telling, to “the dystopi­an hous­ing estates that now ring his­toric Paris, the waste­lands from which tourists avert their eyes in con­fused hor­ror and dis­be­lief on their way into the city.” But if cities can still use Le Cor­busier’s plan­ning ideas as a neg­a­tive exam­ple, they have more to learn from the pos­i­tive exam­ple of his aes­thet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ty, which remains exhil­a­rat­ing today, even amid a kind of moder­ni­ty the man him­self could nev­er have imag­ined.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch 50+ Doc­u­men­taries on Famous Archi­tects & Build­ings: Bauhaus, Le Cor­busier, Hadid & Many More

Vis­it the Homes That Great Archi­tects Designed for Them­selves: Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Cor­busier, Wal­ter Gropius & Frank Gehry

An Espres­so Mak­er Made in Le Corbusier’s Bru­tal­ist Archi­tec­tur­al Style: Raw Con­crete on the Out­side, High-End Parts on the Inside

Every­thing You Ever Want­ed to Know About the Beau­ty of Bru­tal­ist Archi­tec­ture: An Intro­duc­tion in Six Videos

The Mod­ernist Gas Sta­tions of Frank Lloyd Wright and Mies van der Rohe

Mod­ernist Bird­hous­es Inspired by Bauhaus, Frank Lloyd Wright and Joseph Eich­ler

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Magnificent Ancient Roman Mosaic Floor Unearthed in Verona, Italy

One often hears about ren­o­va­tion projects that tear up linoleum, shag car­pet, or some equal­ly unap­peal­ing floor­ing to dis­cov­er a pris­tine (and now much more attrac­tive) lay­er of hard­wood or tile beneath. Any build­ing of suf­fi­cient age becomes a palimpsest, a col­lec­tion of era upon era of trends in archi­tec­ture and design: a look under a floor or behind a wall can poten­tial­ly become a trip back in time. The same holds for the land itself, at least in the parts of the world where civ­i­liza­tion arrived first. “In for­mer Mesopotamia there are hills in areas that should be entire­ly flat,” writes Myko Clel­land, bet­ter known as the Dap­per His­to­ri­an, on Twit­ter. “They’re actu­al­ly remains of entire towns, where res­i­dents built lay­er after lay­er until the whole thing became metres tall.”

Or take Negrar di Valpo­li­cel­la, home of the epony­mous wine vari­etal, one of whose vine­yards has turned out to con­ceal an ancient Roman vil­la. The dis­cov­ery at hand is an elab­o­rate mosa­ic floor which The His­to­ry Blog reports as “dat­ing to around the 3rd cen­tu­ry A.D.” So far, the dig under the Benedet­ti La Vil­la has revealed “long unin­ter­rupt­ed stretch­es of mosa­ic pave­ments with poly­chrome pat­terns of geo­met­ric shapes, guil­loche, wave bands, flo­ral vaults and the semi-cir­cu­lar pelta.”

Though the floor’s bril­liance may have been unex­pect­ed, its pres­ence was­n’t: that a Roman vil­la had once stood on the grounds “was known since the 19th cen­tu­ry. Indeed, the name of the win­ery is tak­en from the name of the con­tra­da (mean­ing neigh­bor­hood or dis­trict), evi­dence of cul­tur­al­ly trans­mit­ted knowl­edge of a grand vil­la there.”

Announced just last week by Negrar di Valipocel­la, the dis­cov­ery of this mosa­ic floor comes a result of the most recent of a series of archae­o­log­i­cal digs that began in 1922. “Numer­ous attempts were made in sub­se­quent decades to find the vil­la,” says The His­to­ry Blog, “and anoth­er small­er mosa­ic was dis­cov­ered in 1975 and cov­ered back up with soil for its preser­va­tion.” Though inter­rupt­ed by bud­getary lim­i­ta­tions, the work cycle of the still-oper­a­tional vine­yard, and this year’s coro­n­avirus pan­dem­ic, the project has nev­er­the­less man­aged to turn up a strong con­tender for the archae­o­log­i­cal find of the year. With luck it will turn up much more of this 1,800-year-old domus, giv­ing us all a chance to see what oth­er unex­pect­ed­ly taste­ful design choic­es the ancient Romans made. The images in this post come via Myko Clel­land, Dap­per His­to­ri­an on Twit­ter.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roman Archi­tec­ture: A Free Course from Yale

Take Ani­mat­ed Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty Tours of Ancient Rome at Its Archi­tec­tur­al Peak (Cir­ca 320 AD)

See the Expan­sive Ruins of Pom­peii Like You’ve Nev­er Seen Them Before: Through the Eyes of a Drone

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram

12 Famous Frank Lloyd Wright Houses Offer Virtual Tours: Hollyhock House, Taliesin West, Fallingwater & More

One might, it seems, be almost any­where in the U.S. and only a few hours dri­ve from a Frank Lloyd Wright house. The “Wis­con­sin-born Wright’s port­fo­lio,” writes Jess Hof­fert at Mid­west Liv­ing, con­sists “of about 500 struc­tures, a good por­tion of which still stand in the Mid­west.” Wright hous­es span the West Coast and nes­tle in the sub­urbs of Wash­ing­ton, DC. As mil­lions of vis­i­tors see up close every year at the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art’s Frank Lloyd Wright Room, Wright’s style per­me­at­ed every part of his designs, inside and out.

But there’s no talk of trav­el these days. The Wright-designed homes and muse­um exhi­bi­tions that were open to the pub­lic have closed their doors to vis­i­tors “just when they were gear­ing up for the spring tour­ing sea­son to begin,” announced the Frank Lloyd Wright Build­ing Con­ser­van­cy. To make sure the pub­lic still has access to twelve of those famous works, the Conservancy—along with the Frank Lloyd Wright Foun­da­tion and the Uni­ty Tem­ple Restora­tion Foun­da­tion—have launched #WrightVir­tu­alVis­its, which offers vir­tu­al tours of 12 icon­ic hous­es.

The deliv­ery method is “a touch con­fus­ing,” Matt Hick­man com­ments at The Architect’s News­pa­per. Tours kick off at 12:00 Cen­tral every Thurs­day “for six weeks (and maybe more). Each week, the con­ser­va­tors of a spe­cif­ic Wright site will share a short yet inti­mate video tour on its web­site and asso­ci­at­ed media pages of anoth­er Wright site…. Each week, two fresh Wright prop­er­ties will par­take in this vir­tu­al tour swap.” This does require a close read­ing of the instruc­tions, and requires one to keep a date, as it were, for a Wright tour.

Giv­en the hous­es on dis­play, you might not find this too trou­ble­some.

Build­ings that have been fea­tured already or are up to bat in the com­ing weeks include the Uni­ty Tem­ple in Oak Park, Illi­nois; the Hol­ly­hock House, recent­ly named as the first UNESCO World Her­itage Site in Los Ange­les; Chicago’s Prairie School stun­ner, the Emil Bach House; Tal­iesin West, home of the (pos­si­bly) defunct School of Archi­tec­ture at Tal­iesin, in Scotts­dale, Ari­zona; the stun­ning yet often-over­looked Gray­cliff estate out­side of Buf­fa­lo, New York; Sama­ra, a pris­tine Uson­ian design in West Lafayette, Indi­ana; the Gor­don House, the only Wright build­ing in Ore­gon, and, of course, Falling­wa­ter.

That last house must sure­ly be Wright’s most famous, an exem­plar of his “Uson­ian” style. But no mat­ter what par­tic­u­lar idiom he chose, the Mid­west­ern aes­thet­ic val­ues that shaped his ear­ly Prairie Style car­ried through into all of his lat­er work. In her short guide to ten of the most well-known Prairie Hous­es, Wright expert Car­la Lind describes his visu­al phi­los­o­phy as rep­re­sen­ta­tive of “ideals in which mid­west­ern­ers believed.”

The seeds of the Prairie Style were root­ed in an appre­ci­a­tion for nature and a ded­i­ca­tion to the free­dom and indi­vid­u­al­i­ty inher­ent in democ­ra­cy. To that Wright added his own expe­ri­ences and influ­ences: his mother’s teach­ing via the Froebel gifts, that nat­ur­al law could be under­stood through geo­met­ric abstrac­tions; his father’s pas­sion for music, which intro­duced him to com­po­si­tion and har­mo­ny; the lit­er­a­ture of the day that informed him about the Aes­thet­ic and Arts and Crafts move­ments and tran­scen­den­tal writ­ers such as Whit­man, Emer­son, and Thore­au… the Japan­ese art and archi­tec­ture at the World’s Columbian Expo­si­tion….

The price of admission—free for as long as it lasts—makes this oppor­tu­ni­ty to see, from a safe social dis­tance, how Wright bal­anced these influ­ences well worth the vir­tu­al trip.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a 360° Vir­tu­al Tours of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Archi­tec­tur­al Mas­ter­pieces, Tal­iesin & Tal­iesin West

Frank Lloyd Wright Reflects on Cre­ativ­i­ty, Nature and Reli­gion in Rare 1957 Audio

Vis­it the Homes That Great Archi­tects Designed for Them­selves: Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Cor­busier, Wal­ter Gropius & Frank Gehry

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Take a 3D Tour Through Ancient Giza, Including the Great Pyramids, the Sphinx & More

Imag­ine the pyra­mids of ancient Egypt, and a vivid image comes right to mind. But unless you hap­pen to be an Egyp­tol­o­gist, that image may pos­sess a great deal more vivid­ness than it does detail. We all have a rough sense of the pyra­mids’ size (impres­sive­ly large), shape (pyra­midi­cal), tex­ture (crumbly), and set­ting (sand), almost whol­ly derived from images cap­tured over the past cen­tu­ry. But what about the pyra­mids in their hey­day, more than 4,500 years ago? Do we know enough even to begin imag­in­ing how they looked, let alone how peo­ple made use of them? Har­vard Egyp­tol­o­gist Peter Der Manuelian does, and in the video above he gives us a tour through 3D mod­els that recon­struct the Giza pyra­mid com­plex (also known as the Giza necrop­o­lis) using both the best tech­nol­o­gy and the fullest knowl­edge avail­able today.

“You’ll see we’ve had to remove mod­ern struc­tures and exca­va­tors, debris dumps,” says Der Manuelian as the cam­era flies, drone­like, in the direc­tion of the Great Sphinx. “We stud­ied the Nile, and we had to move it much clos­er to the Giza pyra­mids, because in antiq­ui­ty, the Nile did flow clos­er. And we’ve tried to rebuild each and every struc­ture.”

Of the Sphinx, this mod­el boasts “the most accu­rate recon­struc­tion that has ever been attempt­ed so far,” and Der Manuelian shows it in two pos­si­ble col­ors schemes, one with only the head paint­ed, one with the entire body paint­ed in “the red­dish brown reserved for male fig­ures.” He also shows the pyra­mid tem­ple of Khafre, both in the near-com­plete­ly ruined state in which it exists today, and in full dig­i­tal recon­struc­tion, com­plete with seat­ed stat­ues the Fourth-Dynasty pharaoh Khafre him­self.

The mod­el accom­mo­dates more than just the built envi­ron­ment. Der Manuelian shows a mod­el bark with anoth­er stat­ue being car­ried into one of the cham­bers, explain­ing that it allows researchers to deter­mine “whether or not it’s big enough or small enough to actu­al­ly fit between the doors of the tem­ple.” Else­where in the mod­el we see a re-enact­ment of the “Open­ing of the Mouth cer­e­mo­ny,” the “rean­i­ma­tion cer­e­mo­ny for the deceased king, meant to mag­i­cal­ly and rit­u­al­ly bring him back to life for the nether­world.” The ren­der­ing takes place inside the tem­ple of the Pyra­mid of Khu­fu, peo­pled with human char­ac­ters. But “how many should there be? What should they be wear­ing? Where are the reg­u­lar Egyp­tians? Are they allowed any­where near this cer­e­mo­ny, or indeed are they allowed any­where near Giza at all?” The greater the detail in which researchers recon­struct the ancient world, the more such ques­tions come to the sur­face.

In the video just above, Der Manuelian explains more about the impor­tance of 3D mod­el­ing to Egyp­tol­ogy: how it uses the exist­ing research, what it has helped mod­ern researchers under­stand, and the promise it holds for the future. The lat­ter includes much of inter­est even to non-Egyp­tol­o­gists, such as tourists who might like to famil­iar­ize them­selves with Giza necrop­o­lis in the days when the Open­ing of the Mouth cer­e­monies still took place — or any era of their choice — before set­ting foot there them­selves. These videos come from “Pyra­mids of Giza: Ancient Egypt­ian Art and Archae­ol­o­gy,” Der Manuelian’s online course at edX, a worth­while learn­ing expe­ri­ence if you’ve got your own such trip planned — or just the kind of fas­ci­na­tion that has gripped peo­ple around the world since the Egyp­to­ma­nia of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry. The tech­nol­o­gy with which we study Egypt has advanced great­ly since then, but for many, the mys­ter­ies of ancient Egypt itself have only become more com­pelling.

via The Kid Should See This

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids Were Built: A New The­o­ry in 3D Ani­ma­tion

What the Great Pyra­mid of Giza Would’ve Looked Like When First Built: It Was Gleam­ing, Reflec­tive White

The Met Dig­i­tal­ly Restores the Col­ors of an Ancient Egypt­ian Tem­ple, Using Pro­jec­tion Map­ping Tech­nol­o­gy

Human All Too Human: A Roman Woman Vis­its the Great Pyra­mid in 120 AD, and Carves a Poem in Mem­o­ry of Her Deceased Broth­er

The Grate­ful Dead Play at the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids, in the Shad­ow of the Sphinx (1978)

A Drone’s Eye View of the Ancient Pyra­mids of Egypt, Sudan & Mex­i­co

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast