Oh, The Places You'll Go: Part II

Nested high upon the southwestern spur of Mount Parnassus, the stadium at Delphi is a gem at the end of a long and arduous mountain path. Originally built in the 5th Century BC, it was used to host athletic and musical events during the ancient Pythian and Panhellenic Games. The stone seating could accommodate as many as 6500 spectators. (Delphi, Greece.)

Unlike at Delphi, we had some help when we climbed atop the Acropolis at Lindos. (Rhodes, Greece.)

In April 1933, a severe earthquake—measuring 6.6 on the Richter Scale—razed the port city of Kos, claiming the lives of 170 people in a 27-second flash of destruction. Despite the catastrophic damage caused by the earthquake, it also revealed that the port district's aging houses were built directly atop the ruins of the ancient city—a discovery that precipitated the excavation of the largest archaeological site on the island. (Kos, Greece.)

The Old Town of Rhodes is one of the most extensive and well-preserved medieval towns in Europe. Prior to the Ottoman incursion of Western Europe, Rhodes was controlled by the Knights Hospitallers. The Avenue of the Knights—located in the shadow of the Palace of the Grand Master—was the heart of the Medieval town, a meeting place and residential area for the Knights who defended the city for more than two centuries. (Rhodes, Greece.)

The White Tower of Thessaloniki, once a notorious prison known as the site of mass executions during the Ottoman rule of Greece, has since been adopted as the symbol of the city. After four centuries of occupation, the old fortification was substantially remodeled—its exterior whitewashed, too—as a symbolic act of forgiveness and cleansing. (Thessaloniki, Greece.)

Taking in the scene at Meteora, which must be one of the most beautiful sites in the entire world. Soaring above the red-roofed town of Kalabaka, the monoliths of Meteora are mystifying, surreal, and breathtaking. The six active monasteries there, built into the smooth sandstone pillars, have been sites of quiet contemplation and pilgrimage since the 13th Century. (Meteora, Greece.)

Meteora was an ideal coda to a summer full of travel, amazement, and learning. In retrospect, it seems beyond description—just like so many of the experiences we had in all of the places we went. (Meteora, Greece.)

The Colossus of Rhodes

A 19th Century artistic impression of The Colossus of Rhodes.

Just one week ago, as I traversed the eastern coast of Rhodes—the largest of the Dodecanese islands of Greece—my imagination was drawn toward a subject that I have pondered time and time again: The Colossus of Rhodes. Ever since I first read about the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, Rhodes' Colossus had always been my favorite. 

A towering statue of Helios, the Greek god of the sun, which stood at the entrance of the Mandraki harbor entrance to the city of Rhodes; an object that inspired awe on account of its colossal dimensions. An icon in its time, and long after, which—along with all but one of the other wonders—has disappeared, without a trace. The Colossus, or at least my idea of it, epitomizes the depth and dimension of the ancient world, its wonders, and its myths.

When the inhabitants of Rhodes successfully prevented a massive Cypriot invasion of the island in 304 BC, it was decided that a celebratory statue should be constructed in honor of their patron god, Helios. Twelve years later, under the direction of Chares of Lindos, construction began. Another twelve years would pass before the work would be complete: ancient sources describe the construction of iron tie bars, upon which brass plates were fixed to form the figure's skin. The upper portions of the structure were built with the aid of a large earthen mound and the interior was filled with massive stone blocks. 

By 280 BC, the Colossus cast the full extent of its immense shadow over the port of Rhodes. Standing atop a 15-meter (49-foot) base pedestal, the statue itself measured over 30 meters (98 feet) in height—making it perhaps the tallest statue in the ancient world.

The Colossus, straddling the harbor as it was imagined in a 16th-century
engraving by Martin Heemskerck.

Its glory was short-lived, however: the Colossus stood for just 56 years, until it snapped at the knees during the Rhodes earthquake of 226 BC. Fearing they had offended their patron god, the Rhodians opted against rebuilding the fallen structure.

Nevertheless, its ruins laid on the ground for more than 800 years, inspiring travelers to come and marvel at the scale of its features. Pliny the Elder, a decorated Roman philosopher and military commander, observed that the fingers alone were larger than most statues—and that few people could wrap their arms around the thumb.

According to legend, the statue was cast down and sold during the Arab invasion of Rhodes in 654. Though there is no confirmation of that story, all traces of the Colossus disappeared—transforming it into an even greater source of wonder and myth. For centuries, it was widely believed that the Colossus straddled Mandraki harbor—a misconception disproven by modern methods of analysis. In fact, it was that false image that inspired The Rhodes Colossus, an iconic satirical art piece from the "Scramble for Africa" at the end of the 19th century.

And so, as I stood at the mouth of Rhodes' harbor, looking upon two modern statues of a male & female deer that now stand where the Colossus once did, I couldn't help but wonder.

Mandraki harbor today. The Colossus' (more modest) modern replacement can be seen on the left side of the image.

All Those Years Ago

It's easy to forget that The Beatles—the band and the pop culture phenomenon as we know them—were only active for ten years. So much happened in that decade, the ever-intriguing and dynamic Sixties, including the elevation of the Fab Four to unfathomable heights of stardom. Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison, & Ringo Starr, especially with the passage of time, seem easier to perceive as icons rather than human beings. 

The Beatles: young & not-so-young.

They are, of course, mere mortals (despite what individuals such as myself may want to tell you). In fact, one of the more interesting trajectories seen in The Beatles' career—if you step away from the music itself—is the physical aging process of the four men who comprised arguably the greatest and most influential rock band ever.

All things considered, The Beatles were still boys when they began their meteoric ascent through the ranks of the music industry: George Harrison was just 19 when the group scored their first number-one hit in "Love Me Do." But as the years went by, as they were forced into sharing hotel rooms during the height of "Beatlemania" and into making difficult decisions such as retiring from touring to devote themselves fully to the artistic process of recording, they aged rather rapidly into mature adults. 

Ten years, for just about any other band, could have passed for twenty: 12 studio albums, 20 number-one singles on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, 5 feature films, and innumerable stylistic, artistic, and philosophical transformations. Going strictly by the numbers, The Beatles were remarkably busy during their active years as a band. And the hard work showed: in their unprecedented success & on their faces.

The Fab Four in the early days: pre-mop top in 1962.

When the group disbanded in 1970, its most senior members, Ringo Starr and John Lennon, were just 30 years old. Paul McCartney was 28 and George Harrison had reached the ripe old age of 27. However, in the photos from the band's final shoot at Lennon's Tittenhurst Park home in August 1969, they all appear much older: aged by the trappings of superstardom, by artistic & business disputes, and—yes—by facial hair. 

What a difference five years makes: 1964 vs. 1969.

Although none of us are free from the heavy hands of time, one must admit that John Lennon's transformation between 1965 and 1967 was jarring (and even more so between 1963 and 1969). 

Lennon ('65 vs. '67) & Harrison ('64 vs. '70)

And George Harrison, once a fresh-faced Liverpudlian lad living in the shadow of the vaunted Lennon-McCartney duo, more closely resembled an Orthodox priest when he embarked on his post-Beatles debut, All Things Must Pass.

Some would have it that their changes were merely the result of drug abuse: tobacco, marijuana, amphetamines, LSD, cocaine, even heroin—The Beatles were familiar with all of them on some level. But drugs were far from the only factor: just look at their touring schedule. 

They played nearly every day of the year in 1963 and released two studio LPs. Then, in 1964, they embarked on their first world tour, additional tours in the UK, USA, Canada, and Europe, and still managed to release A Hard Day's Night and Beatles For Sale. More of the same in 1965: international tour dates & two more albums, Help! and Rubber Soul. 

It's no wonder that the band decided to stop touring the next year. It happened to be around then that the "Paul is dead" urban legend came about — well, if that grueling schedule didn't kill him, it at least aged him a few extra years.

The Beatles, of course, stayed active in their last four years together, putting out seven of their most ground-breaking records yet: Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Magical Mystery Tour, Yellow Submarine, The Beatles ("White Album"), Abbey Road, and Let It Be. 

By comparison, Eminem—the top selling artist of the 2000s—has managed to release eight records over the course of 18 years.

And so, The Beatles as they appeared in 1969 at Tittenhurst Park were probably burned out: from a decade of constant travel, performance, and exceptional creative output. 

Their career mirrored the era in which it existed: high-paced, full of inspiration & change, and exhausting for those who lived through it.

John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, & Ringo Starr at Tittenhurst Park. August 22, 1969.

Oh, The Places You'll Go

An up close & personal look at the Ionic order, courtesy of one of the six columns supporting the Erechtheion's Northern porch. (Athens, Greece)

Attempting to pose outside of the Panathenaic Stadium while security guards blew their whistles at us. The stadium, which was reconstructed from the remains of an ancient Greek stadium, played host to the first modern Olympic Games in 1896. (Athens, Greece)

The towering Temple of Olympian Zeus: an ill-fated structure that was constructed over a period of 638 years, only to be destroyed during a barbarian invasion 135 years after its completion.
(Athens, Greece)

The Passion façade of La Sagrada Família, which has been under construction since 1882. At the time of architect Antoni Gaudí's death in 1926, less than a quarter of the project was finished. It is currently scheduled for completion in 2026. (Barcelona, Spain)

Resting at the foot of La Catedral de Santiago de Compostela after completing the final 30 km of "El Camino de Santiago," a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James that dates back to the 9th Century. (Santiago de Compostela, Spain)

An unexpected encounter with a room full of 13th Century frescoes in La Città Alta: a truly breathtaking experience. (Bergamo, Italy)

The Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion, the southernmost point of Attica. As legend has it, King Aegeus leapt to his death at Sounion when he mistakenly thought that Theseus, his son, had been killed by the dreaded Minotaur. Thus, the Aegean Sea acquired its name. (Sounion, Greece)

The Odeon of Herodes Atticus, or simply "Herodeon," is a theater built into the southwestern slope of the Acropolis of Athens. Completed in 161 AD, it was turned to ruin in the same barbarian invasion that resulted in the destruction of the Temple of Olympian Zeus. We had the distinct pleasure of listening to Mozart's "Symphony No. 41," his final symphony, in the reconstructed venue. (Athens, Greece)

Situated on the southwestern face of Mount Parnassus, Delphi was once thought to be the center of the earth. The Delphic Oracle exerted extraordinary influence in the classical Greek world: she was consulted before all decisions of importance, perhaps as far back as 1400 BC. (Delphi, Greece)

The Life of a Tree

Mother Nature has a manner of inspiring awe in the most understated ways. As someone whose imagination tends to be swept away by the gravity of places, structures, and objects much older than myself, the history behind the earth's natural offerings is rarely lost on me. Trees, more than anything else, seem to inform my perspective on my own youth, and also the relative youth of my ancestors, my country, and my culture.

This photograph depicts the cross-section of a tree that lived for 1341 years before being cut down; its growth rings serve as perhaps the most tangible kind of timeline—more enlightening than any that is included in the index of a history book. This Giant Sequoia, which now resides at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, stood tall—and lived—as generations passed, as religions were born, as empires rose & crumbled, as the world was repeatedly transformed.

It saw not only the fall of the Roman Empire, but also the discovery of America—twice—as well as the birth of the United States of America, for good measure. It bore witness to the reigns of the Kings Henry, I through VIII. Its life spanned the entirety of the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the Age of Discovery. 

The life of a tree, upon close observation, is the manifestation of the extraordinary in the seemingly ordinary flesh of nature. This tree, which survived through such a large portion of observable and recorded history, could easily have been mistaken as a mere feature of the contemporary environment. Perhaps that is the only rational explanation as to why such an immense being could be cut down in an instant. 

Whatever the explanation, the resultant cross-section of the fallen tree illustrates a truth that is easily forgotten: change as the world might—and the people and the structures that exist within—nature is constant. Humankind exists in a medium of living history, and each tree that has sprung forth from the rich soil of the earth is a physical connection to those who treaded there long before us.

The Photographic Past, Part VI

Lyndon B. Johnson's program of civil rights reform, which resulted in the passage of landmark legislation such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act, and the Civil Rights Act of 1968, relied heavily upon a collaborative relationship with Martin Luther King, Jr. According to Pullitzer Prize-winning reporter Nick Kotz, "They were people who knew how to take advantage of an opportunity and Kennedy's assassination created a chance." (ca. 1966)

A grocery storefront in Lincoln, Nebraska advertising oranges for one cent. One cent. Fruit by the penny: Oh, how a serial snacker could dream. But grapefruits sure were steep back then… (ca. 1942)

A classic Volkswagen advertisement campaign featuring then-Philadelphia 76ers' Center Wilt Chamberlain.  Though I'm not so sure about the "enormous infant" bit (note: knowing Wilt, he probably had a lot of those), it is refreshing to see an automobile ad that actually focuses on the car being advertised. (ca. 1966)

Two young protestors at Tiananmen Square link arms in solidarity with then-ongoing popular demonstrations for social and political reform in the People's Republic of China. The protests were forcibly suppressed after seven weeks in an event commonly known as the "Tiananmen Square Massacre," at least outside of China. The Chinese government has since prohibited any discussion of the events, and many details of the tragedy remain unknown or unconfirmed. (ca. 1989)

Pep: a black labrador retriever accused and sentenced to life in prison for killing the Pennsylvania governor's cat.  As it was, the account of the event was entirely fabricated by a newspaper reporter. Pep, who was guilty of no more than an insatiable desire to chew the governor's couch cushions, went on to spend the rest of his life as a therapy dog for Pennsylvania prison inmates. (ca. 1924)

An Iranian soldier looks out upon a cloud of burning oil produced by Iraqi attacks on oil refineries in the area. An ominous sight and an even more troubling sign for the future; oil-related conflicts have continued to plague the region for decades, with no end in sight. (ca. 1980)

A photochrom print of Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. The iconic structure was commissioned by the "Mad King," Ludwig II of Bavaria, and served as the inspiration for Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty Castle. The castle was intended as a private retreat for the king, but the site became open to the public soon after Ludwig's death in 1886. (ca. 1892)

President Abraham Lincoln meets with Union General George McClellan, with whom he had a tumultuous relationship, following the Battle of Antietam. "The Battle of Sharpsburg," as it was known in the South, still remains the bloodiest single-day battle in American history. This colorized photograph, in some ways, helps to humanize these two historical figures at odds under the immensely stressful conditions of the time.  (ca. 1862)

Hephaisteion

The Temple of Hephaestus, or Hephaisteion, is the most perfectly preserved temple remaining from the ancient Greek world. Built over the course of 34 years (449-415 BC), it is fitting that such a masterfully constructed Doric temple would be raised in honor of the patron god of craftsmanship. The temple is perched atop Agoraios Kolonos hill, in the shadow of the ancient Agora and Acropolis of Athens; its structure, forged from Pentelic and Parian marble, remains a sight to behold thousands of years on. Since words—it seems—can do no justice, I will allow my photographs to tell the rest of the story.

The Western Pediment, the Doric Colonnade, and the Ionic Frieze.

Another look at the temple's Western Pediment.

Looking Northwest to the Hephaisteion from the Acropolis.

Looking Southeast to the Acropolis from the Hephaisteion.

Hephaisteion: Ancient Greece's gift to the curious historian's imagination.