These kind of stirrup jars, designed not to spill and easy to carry, transported oil and wine throughout the Mediterranean during Mycenaean period. The shape of this stirrup jar and its octopus decoration show the importance of the sea as a way of communication and as a source of food and wealth. This terracotta jar can be admired at Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, New York.
A group of nine gold, silver, and mixed
Edo period (1615-1868) and Meiji era
(1868-1912), 19th century, Japan.
Comprising: a reticulated gold bead with flowering peonies, signed Shiunsai;
a silver figure of Gama Sennin; an octopus above a jar in silver and copper; a
crab on a lotus seed pod in mixed metal; an oval bead with silver overlay of a
monkey and peaches; a persimmon in mixed metal; a butterfly dancer in mixed
metal, signed (illegibly); a rectangular copper bead with silver wire seigaiha inlay;
and a silver and shakudo compressed cylindrical bead
7/8in (2.3cm) length of last. Bonhams
Archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans, best known for his excavations at Knossos in Crete, was born #onthisday in 1851. These are some materials from the Sir Arthur Evans Archive.
Evans was Keeper of the Ashmolean from 1884-1908, and his ambition to make the museum a centre for archaeology resulted in thousands of new acquisitions and a new department for antiquities.
Drawing of a polychrome pot from a tomb at Isopata near Knossos, from the Sir Arthur Evans Archive.
The Minoan and Mycenaean collections on display in our Aegean World gallery. The Ashmolean’s Aegean collection, containing many items holds around 10,000 objects and is the largest and most comprehensive outside Greece. Many finds from Evans’ own excavations are in the museum’s collection.
I was satisfied with haiku until I met you,
jar of octopus, cuckoo’s cry, 5-7-5,
but now I want a Russian novel,
a 50-page description of you sleeping,
another 75 of what you think staring out
a window. I don’t care about the plot
although I suppose there will have to be one,
the usual separation of the lovers, turbulent
seas, danger of decommission in spite
of constant war, time in gulps and glitches
passing, squibs of threnody, a fallen nest,
speckled eggs somehow uncrushed, the sled
outracing the wolves on the steppes, the huge
glittering ball where all that matters
is a kiss at the end of a dark hall.
At dawn the officers ride back to the garrison,
one without a glove, the entire last chapter
about a necklace that couldn’t be worn
inherited by a great-niece
along with the love letters bound in silk.