In an offhand comment in one of his essays, M.I. Finley noted that once archeological "finds" have been found, and dug up, they become at risk—grave risk—to all the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" such as they would not be were they just left in the ground.
That said, I love museums. Even today, when they tend not (necessarily) to house valuable or beautiful objects, but "teaching" exhibits geared for children (why all the arts specifically gear themselves toward children and not adults remains a perplexity to me), even so, I'm glad that what they have on display is there available to be seen. History museums devoted to some specific locale, such as cigar culture in Tampa, are always worthwhile visiting.
The beautiful and valuable stuff, such as has been retrieved from underground or underwater, sometimes finds its way into private hands, sometimes into public. In Asia, one may find objects which have never, presumably (until very recent times) left possession of private hands, where they have been cared for and tended lovingly over the course of millennia.
This is not meant to be a paean to rich people—though as a rule I am very happy when they have let their stuff be "on loan" to the museum.
It is a shame, when so much beauty has been wrought by human hands, that many of us—myself included—remain careless about protecting it. One of my books contains poems complaining about all the damage that American forces "set up" (and many say wilfully encouraged) to the library in Baghdad. Damage done to the museum there received most publicity, but losses to the literary collection were horrendous.
In either case, much was lost that was permanently irreplaceable. As Sarah Skwire notes in this article, the forces US militarism unleashed have only begun to flourish, much to the detriment of humanity. She makes a good point: to observe who the enemies of the humanities are—is that not a good argument itself in their favor?
Of course it is easy to look abroad to find deserved recipients of one's finger waving; and hardline Islamic culture has a pitiful track record. Yet even here at home we have plenty that have never read Keats, and don't find the value in beauty.
Some among the poetic community believe that trend to be reversing. I am not so confident about that. Still, any such movement represents a hope—the human and particularly ecological landscape looks pretty bleak these days.
That said, I love museums. Even today, when they tend not (necessarily) to house valuable or beautiful objects, but "teaching" exhibits geared for children (why all the arts specifically gear themselves toward children and not adults remains a perplexity to me), even so, I'm glad that what they have on display is there available to be seen. History museums devoted to some specific locale, such as cigar culture in Tampa, are always worthwhile visiting.
The beautiful and valuable stuff, such as has been retrieved from underground or underwater, sometimes finds its way into private hands, sometimes into public. In Asia, one may find objects which have never, presumably (until very recent times) left possession of private hands, where they have been cared for and tended lovingly over the course of millennia.
This is not meant to be a paean to rich people—though as a rule I am very happy when they have let their stuff be "on loan" to the museum.
It is a shame, when so much beauty has been wrought by human hands, that many of us—myself included—remain careless about protecting it. One of my books contains poems complaining about all the damage that American forces "set up" (and many say wilfully encouraged) to the library in Baghdad. Damage done to the museum there received most publicity, but losses to the literary collection were horrendous.
In either case, much was lost that was permanently irreplaceable. As Sarah Skwire notes in this article, the forces US militarism unleashed have only begun to flourish, much to the detriment of humanity. She makes a good point: to observe who the enemies of the humanities are—is that not a good argument itself in their favor?
Of course it is easy to look abroad to find deserved recipients of one's finger waving; and hardline Islamic culture has a pitiful track record. Yet even here at home we have plenty that have never read Keats, and don't find the value in beauty.
Some among the poetic community believe that trend to be reversing. I am not so confident about that. Still, any such movement represents a hope—the human and particularly ecological landscape looks pretty bleak these days.
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