even*cleveland: egyptians

egyptians

A very, very few of the objects on view in the Met's Egyptian galleries. From top:

Niankhwadjet inhales a lotus (limestone detail from a false door). 2575-2520 B.C.
A spouted bowl (2649-2465 B.C.) and two plates (ca. 2750-2649 B.C.).
Blue-green faience wall decoration from the funerary apartments of King Djoser, ca. 2630-2611 B.C.
Feet of the Overseer of the Granary Kaiemsenuwy, 2345-2181 B.C.
Assorted hippos
Scarabs from Dynasty 18
Raisins, dates, figs + pomegranates from the tombs of Hatnofer and Amenhopte.
Gold fragments from the North Pyramid Cemetery. 1971-1668 B.C.
Linen sheets from the reign of Hatshepsut. 1479-1548 B.C.
Storage jars from the reign of Thutmose III. 1479-1425 B.C.
Gold toe caps from the tombs of the three minor wives of Thutmose III. 1479-1425 B.C.
Statuary fragment from the Great Temple of the Aten at Amarna, 1353-1336 B.C.
Lotus blossoms
A detail of a block from the sanctuary in the Temple of Mentuhotep II at Deir el-Bahri, 2010-2000 B.C.
View of Study Gallery 120
Assorted wing fragments
Faience inlay of a hawk from the Ptolemaic period
Mummy wrappings, A.D. 80-100

What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time.

V. Woolf

Don't be amazed if you see my eyes always wandering. In fact, this is my way of reading, and it is only in this way that reading proves fruitful for me. If a book truly interests me, I cannot follow it for more than a few lines before my mind, having seized on a thought that the text suggests to it, or a feeling, or a question, or an image, goes off on a tangent and springs from thought to thought, from image to image, in an itinerary of reasonings and fantasies that I feel the need to pursue to the end, moving away from the book until I have lost sight of it. The stimulus of reading is indispensable to me, and of meaty reading, even if, of every book, I manage to read no more than a few pages. But those few pages already enclose for me whole universes, which I can never exhaust.

Italo Calvino

Why didn't she try collecting something? It didn't matter what. She would find it gave an interest to life, and there was no end to the little curiosities one could easily pick up.

Henry James

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