Archive for the ‘Modern(ish)’ Category

National Museums Scotland acquire rare sea clock

Sunday, January 6th, 2019

The Bruce-Oosterwijck longitude pendulum sea clock, one of only two examples in the world, has been acquired by National Museums Scotland. The clock is the first mechanical attempt to crack the case of how to calculate longitude during long transatlantic voyages. It didn’t work. Scientists, naval experts and clockmakers would spend another hundred years trying to solve the problem of longitude, but this first failure marks a pivotal moment in maritime history.

Latitude (the north-south position) can be calculated by the height of the sun and stars in the sky; navigators had that one figured out thousands of years ago. Longitude (the east-west position) was a much harder nut to crack because it required a timepiece that could keep accurate time during a voyage that would allow sailors to calculate how far east or west they’d traveled from their point of origin.

Alexander Bruce, 2nd Earl of Kincardine, commissioned the clock in 1662 from The Hague clockmaker Severyn Oosterwijck. The pendulum clock had only been invented a few years earlier and was by far the most accurate timepiece ever created up until that point. (It would remain the most accurate timekeeper until the 1930s.) Oosterwijck had played an important role in its development by horologist Christiaan Huygens. Since the pendulum kept such precise time for so long, perhaps it could solve the longitude problem.

The first practical pendulum clock was invented in 1656 by the Dutch mathematician and astronomer Christiaan Huygens (1629–95). He then turned his attention to the creation of an accurate sea clock for the determination of longitude.

Huygens collaborated with Bruce on the project, with the Scot introducing a number of new features to the Dutchman’s designs before having four sea clocks made, two of them by Severyn Oosterwijck.

By the end of 1662, Bruce’s initial sea-trials were proving promising. More formal sea-trials were carried out, with reports suggesting that the clocks had performed exceptionally well.

However, these reports eventually proved to be inaccurate. Captain Robert Holmes, who had been entrusted with the trials of the clocks (though his attention was clearly more devoted to plundering Dutch merchant shipping), had reported implausible success beyond even the best hopes for the clocks. Samuel Pepys was asked to investigate, and it transpired that the glowing reports were entirely fictitious. Despite the optimism of the 1660s and extensive discussions over patents and profits, the new marine timekeepers turned out not to be the solution that had been hoped for.

Its mission failed, the Bruce-Oosterwijck clock fell into obscurity. It was probably used as a normal household clock from around 1670 through 1972 when it appears again on the record. It was valued as a late 17th century pendulum clock, but its true significance wasn’t discovered until recently.

Thanks to sizeable grants from the National Heritage Memorial Fund and the Art Fund, National Museums Scotland was able to acquire the Bruce-Oosterwijck sea clock. It will go on permanent display in the Earth in Space gallery at the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh.


The Shield of Achilles

Saturday, January 5th, 2019

Here’s one for my excellent mother who can never get enough of decorative silver, the more insanely elaborate the better. Coming up for sale for five million dollars or so is the Shield of Achilles, a spectacular masterpiece of 19th century silver. London silver dealers Koopman Rare Art will be offering it at the TEFAF Maastricht this year.

While it does have four rings at the rim and in the center for attaching leather straps, tt’s not actually a shield, although it could probably be used as one in a pinch (by someone with an arm of Hellboy-like strength). It’s a huge silver-gilt charger three feet in diameter weighing 46 pounds. It was cast and chased with scenes from the eighteenth book of The Iliad of Homer in which Achilles receives new armour forged by Hephaestus himself after his dearest friend Patroclus is killed wearing his previous set.

A couple of excerpts of the very detailed description of the shield from Robert Fagles’ outstanding translation of The Iliad (Book 18, 572-579, 670-686):

And he forged on the shield two noble cities filled
with mortal men. With weddings and wedding feasts in one
and under glowing torches they brought forth the brides
from the women’s chambers, marching through the streets
while choir on choir the wedding song rose high
and the young men came dancing, whirling round in rings
and among them flutes and harps kept up their stirring call —
women rushed to the doors and each stood moved with wonder. […]

And he forged on the shield a heard of longhorn cattle,
Working the bulls in beaten gold and tin, lowing loud
and rumbling out of the farmyard dung to pasture
along a rippling stream, along the swaying reeds.
And the golden drovers kept the herd in line,
For in all, with nine dogs at their heels,
Their paws flickering quickly – a savage roar! –
A crashing attack – and a pair of ramping lions
had seized a bull from the cattle’s front ranks –
He bellowed out as they dragged him off in agony.
Packs of dogs and the young herdsmen rushed to help
But the lions ripping open the hide of the huge bull
Were gulping down the guts and the black pooling blood
While the herdsmen yelled the fast pack on – no use.
The hounds shrank from sinking teeth in the lions,
They balked, hunching close, barking, cringing away.

The shield was designed and modelled by John Flaxman, one of the leading sculptors of the Regency period who took extensive inspiration from classic motifs and played a significant role in popularizing the Neoclassical style. This piece is the highest expression of his embrace of classical design. He follows Homer’s description meticulously. In the center of the shield is Apollo driving his chariot of the sun. The marriage feast and the lions attacking the cattle are there, as are the other elements — the fight and court appeal, the siege and battle, the harvest of crops and grapes to make wine, a Cretan, the ocean.

It took a lot of effort to come to fruition. Flaxman first submitted a design for the charger to silversmith Philip Rundell of Rundell, Bridge & Rundell in 1810. Then he worked another seven years on the design, altering it until it achieved his vision. He made the model in 1817 and after a few bronze versions, the silver-gilt version was finally produced in 1819. It was bought by King George IV in 1821 who would give it the honor of being the centerpiece of his coronation banquet buffet.

George IV’s chaser is still in the Royal Collection. Four more silver-gilt shields were made: one acquired by Frederick Augustus, Duke of York (now in the Huntington Library and Art Gallery), one by Hugh Percy, 3rd Duke of Northumberland (now owned by His Excellency Mohamed Mahdi Altajir), and one by William Lowther, 2nd Earl of Lonsdale (now held by the National Trust at Anglesey Abbey). The last was made in 1823-24 and sold years later to Ernest Augustus, the fifth son of King George III of Britain, who acceded to his father’s title of King of Hanover upon the death of his elder brother William IV in 1837. His niece Victoria acceded to the throne of the United Kingdom. The shield was acquired by the new king in 1838.

So highly-regarded was the Shield of Achilles that after Flaxman’s death in 1826, fellow Royal Academy member painter Sir Thomas Lawrence described it in his eulogy for the sculptor as “that Divine Work, unequalled in the combination of beauty, variety and grandeur, which the genius of Michael Angelo could not have surpassed.”

That may or may not have been hyperbole, but Flaxman and Michelangelo had more than a few things in common. They were both child prodigies. Flaxman was 12 years old when he won the Society of Arts’ first prize for a medal he’d designed and modelled. He was 15 when he won another and exhibited at the Royal Academy. By the age of 20 he was gainfully employed modelling reliefs for Wedgwood pottery, and like Michelangelo, he was inspired by classical themes, creating some of Wedgwood’s most popular jasperware and basaltware with Greco-Roman motifs. His drawings of the art of antiquity made during a long sojourn in Rome because best-sellers and inspired decades of amateur imitators.


Fishermen find medieval fishing baskets

Wednesday, January 2nd, 2019

Fishermen in Wales have discovered fishing baskets thought to be at least 600 years old in the Severn Estuary. Black Rock Lave Net fishermen found the baskets off the coast of Portskewett while walking their fishing grounds at low tide in the off season. The baskets had been preserved for centuries, buried in the silt and sand of the riverbank, and were only exposed by a recent storm.

This isn’t the first time the group have found artefacts such as these. However, as Martin Morgan, secretary of the fishery, explained, it is unusual to uncover so many baskets grouped together.

Mr Morgan said: “The baskets would have been baited and pegged to the estuary bed at low tide. The catch would have been green eels and lamprey.

“They are made of willow and hazel in an urn shape with a non-return built into the neck. The overall length is around two feet.”

They haven’t been dated yet, but baskets found before in that spot were radiocarbon dated by Reading University researchers to between the 12th and 15th centuries. The design is also characteristic of baskets from that era. The finders hope to get the newly-discovered baskets dated as well, but it’s a race against time because the wood deteriorates rapidly once it’s exposed to the air.

It is eminently fitting that these particular fishermen would recover ancestral tools of their trade. The Black Rock Lave Net Fishery is the last traditional salmon fishery left on Wales’ side of the Severn Estuary. The lave net method they employ — wading or boating into the shallow coastal waters and catching fish using hand-woven nets attached to wood poles — has been used on the estuary since at least the 17th century, and likely earlier. Basket fishing is older, but it was in use for an incredibly long time. The last basket fishery on the estuary closed in 1995, believe it or not.

This wonderful video documents the work of lave net fishermen today. It truly is living history.


Intact 18th c. ice house found in London

Saturday, December 29th, 2018

A large ice house from the late 18th century has been unearthed by buildings archaeologists in central London. Discovered off of Regent’s Park, the Ice House is more than 24 feet wide and 31 feet deep. It is an egg-shaped cupola made of red brick and is in outstanding condition. Even the entrance passage and vaulted antechamber survive intact, unmolested by active construction of massive buildings in the early 19th century and the destruction of a great deal of London during World War II.

In the 1820s the Ice House was used by pioneering ice-merchant and confectioner William Leftwich to store and supply high quality ice to London’s Georgian elites, long before it was possible to manufacture ice artificially. It was extremely fashionable to serve all manner of frozen delights at lavish banquets, and demand was high from catering traders, medical institutions and food retailers. Ice was collected from local canals and lakes in winter and stored, but it was often unclean, and supply was inconsistent.

Leftwich was one of first people to recognise the potential for profit in imported ice: in 1822, following a very mild winter, he chartered a vessel to make the 2000km round trip from Great Yarmouth to Norway to collect 300 tonnes of ice harvested from crystal-clear frozen lakes, an example of “the extraordinary the lengths gone to at this time to serve up luxury fashionable frozen treats and furnish food traders and retailers with ice” (as put by David Sorapure, our Head of Built Heritage). The venture was not without risk: previous imports had been lost at sea, or melted whilst baffled customs officials dithered over how to tax such novel cargo. Luckily, in Leftwich’s case a decision was made in time for the ice to be transported along the Regent’s Canal, and for Leftwich to turn a handsome profit.

The Museum of London Archaeology team unearthed the Ice House in 2015 as part of the redevelopment of Regent’s Crescent, iconic Grade I Listed mews houses originally designed by John Nash, architect to the Prince Regent (later King George IV). The original 1819 structures were destroyed by German bombs during the Blitz and replicas were built in their place in the 1960s. The new development will recreate the originals in exhaustive, period-accurate detail.

The Ice House will play an important role in the redevelopment. It is being restored as the Crescent is being reconstructed. The restored Ice House will be integrated into the Crescent’s gardens. The plan to install a viewing corridor so the remarkable building will be accessible to the public.


Megatherium skull collected by Darwin digitally reconstructed

Thursday, December 27th, 2018

A Megatherium americanum skull fragment collected by Charles Darwin in 1832 has been rediscovered and its two pieces digitally reconnected in a 3D model. When Darwin found the specimen on a beach in Argentina, it was encased in rock (ie, the matrix) which made it difficult to see the details of the fossil. Darwin thought it was a Megatherium skull, but he couldn’t be certain.

He sent it to the Royal College of Surgeons (RCS) where Richard Owen, the first Director of the Natural History Museum, applied the Gordian Knot solution and sliced the specimen in two parts. In so doing he revealed a cross-section of the teeth was able to confirm that it was indeed a Megatherium skull fragment. The two pieces were eventually separated — the larger remaining in the RCS collection, the smaller winding up at Down House, Darwin’s home — but the destination of the smaller piece was poorly documented and the connection was lost.

The divided skull came back to the fore when researchers at the Natural History Museum were researching the three Megatherium specimens as part of a project with the ambitious goal of digitizing Darwin’s full collection of mammal fossils. They went way back to the journals of Darwin’s Argentina trip to identify the three specimens, but the the divided one didn’t match his description because of Owen’s cut. Records explained that it was a cross-section but not where the smaller piece was. They could find no records referring to it past 1845.

Having searched the Museum’s huge collection of fossil mammals for the missing fragment, and that of the RCS to no avail, curator of fossil mammals Pip Brewer and palaeobiologist Adrian Lister extended their search to Down House, the home of Charles Darwin, where they were miraculously able to locate the remaining fragment of Darwin’s Megatherium specimen. […]

On September 4 2018, both parts of the specimen were brought to the Museum where 3D specialist Kate Burton scanned both fragments using a 3D surface scanner. This scan is the first time that these fragments of the same Megatherium skull have been united in over 150 years. By scanning both fragments of the specimen, the Museum is able to make these vitally important specimens accessible to all, from scientists and educational groups to artists and enthusiasts across the globe, inspiring the next generation of natural world ambassadors.

The new scans were released on November 24th to celebrate the 159th anniversary of the publication of On the Origin of Species. Here is the Megatherium, both parts viewable together and apart so you can view the teeth in cross-section.

Oh and they have an aurochs skull! I do love an aurochs skull. They have three specimens, actually, all of them digitized. None of them were collected by Darwin, but this one, which was found near Atholl in Perthshire, Scotland, was documented by Richard Owen in 1846.


William III’s holly trees, planted in 1702, still live

Tuesday, December 25th, 2018

Okay so technically they’re clones, but they were grown from cuttings instead of cooked up in a lab, so that totally counts. The hollies look glorious now thanks to the love and attention of Historic Royal Palaces gardeners. They were in tragic condition when they were first rediscovered in the Privy Garden of Hampton Court Palace in 1995. There were three holly trees found to be originals from the reign of William III and the centuries had taken a hard toll. They had to be chopped down, alas. Before they were felled, cuttings were taken so that William’s hollies might live on.

The Privy Garden at Hampton Court Palace is one of the most accurate period reconstructions of a garden out there, thanks to the very detailed records that have survived describing the garden of 1702. The reason we know so much about the construction of William’s baroque garden is that the king died in March of 1702 before the garden was completed, so the landscapers and workmen tasked with building it included unusually specific descriptions of what they had done in their invoices to ensure they would be paid.

Because of this entirely understandable paranoia, Historic Royal Palaces landscapers were able to restore the Privy Garden of 1702 using the exact plant varieties, long and handsome hornbeam bower, wrought iron screens and statues as designed and commissioned by William III.

Behold the handsome William III hollies installed in Hampton Court Palace’s Fountain Court this year:

Happy holidays, y’all!


Watching Brutus (and other things) in person

Sunday, December 23rd, 2018

Here’s where I admit that yesterday’s post was a stealth preview of coming attractions, for today I went to the Clark and saw Brutus Condemning His Sons to Death in person. It’s in a small room just off the 18th/early 19th century French art gallery with the preparatory drawing and engraving that were part of the same auction lot with the painting itself. The oil painting of Brutus is hanging on the back wall, the focal point when you walk in or walk by the gallery. Against the left wall is the preparatory drawing; against the right wall is the engraving.

Brutus Condemning His Sons to Death by Guillaume Guillon Lethière, 1788, Clark Art Institute.

Meanwhile, in the main room of the French gallery, last year’s handsome young fella, Portrait of Achille Deban de Laborde (1817) by Alexandre-Jean Dubois-Drahonet, has been moved slightly a couple of spots away from its previous location. I approve heartily as it is now possible to take a picture head-on without the glare from the lighting. Last year awkward angles were required.

Last but certainly not least, I learned a new word today courtesy of the outstanding exhibition Turner and Constable: The Inhabited Landscape. As the name indicates, the show focuses on landscapes which both men painted with distinctive mastery. Unlike many other landscape artists, however, when JMW Turner and John Constable included people in their landscapes they did so with very deliberate meaning instead of as mere indicators of the scale and perspective. Using people in landscapes to indicate scale is called staffage, pronounced in French like stahf-AHJH. I did not know that. Be warned, I intend to put it to use in numerous tortured metaphors going forward.

Here’s an example from Constable. It’s called Ploughing Scene in Suffolk (1824-1825) and even though the human figures are small in the broad vista of farmland, they are absolutely pivotal to the theme. The position of one of them in the dead center of the painting underscores his importance, as does the care Constable took in depicting the plough in precise detail. Ergo, farmers ploughing are not staffage.


Watching Brutus watch his sons executed

Saturday, December 22nd, 2018

After seven months of conservation and more than two centuries of private ownership, Brutus Condemning His Sons to Death by Guillaume Guillon Lethière has gone on public display at the Clark Art Institute. The neoclassical painting depicts Lucius Junius Brutus, leader of the revolt against Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome, and founder of the Roman Republic, stoically watching the execution of his sons for conspiring with the Tarquins to restore the monarchy. One son has already been decapitated and the executioner is holding the severed head aloft before the crowds.

Lethière was born in 1760 in the French colony of Guadeloupe, the illegitimate son of government functionary Pierre Guillon and Marie-Françoise Pepayë, a mulatto former slave. His last name is actually a reference to his birth order. He was his father’s third illegitimate child. While Guillon would not officially recognize his son until 1799, he was very much involved in his life. The young Guillaume moved to France with his father when he was 14 and enrolled in the Academy of Rouen, a tuition-free art school founded by Jean-Baptiste Descamps. His talents were quickly recognized and in 1777 he enrolled at the Académie Royale in Paris in the studio of Gabriel François Doyen. He competed for the Prix de Rome twice and lost, but made such a strong impression with the wealthy, noble and connected Comte de Montmorin that the count secured him the pension and stay at the French Academy in Rome that the prize would have given him.

It was in Rome, fittingly enough, that Lethière created Brutus Condemning His Sons to Death. He was a fervent neoclassicist by then, having eschewed Doyen’s Baroque style in favor of Jacques-Louis David’s integration of Enlightenment political principles in scenes from classical antiquity. Painted in 1788, Lethière’s vision of the Brutus story pre-dated David’s famed The Lictors Bring to Brutus the Bodies of His Sons by a year, and what a year was there, my friends. In 1789, the Bastille fell, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen was passed and feudalism was abolished. Even so, David’s far less gory version of the execution of the Brutus sons caused consternation among the authorities. They thought its vision of Republican honor against tyranny even at enormous personal cost might incite anti-monarchical passions. And there are no decapitated heads held proudly aloft in that one.

David had already begun working on his masterpiece (it was 14 feet wide and took two years to complete) when Lethière finished his at the French Academy in Rome. The director of the Academy praised its emotional expressiveness in a letter, but if it was exhibited in public when it arrived in Paris that fall or thereabouts there is no record of it. It was definitely seen because German critic G.A. von Halem visited David’s studio during a trip to Paris in 1790 and compared the two works: “Lethière … showed the bloody head of one son. But one flees before blood and one suffers the double fear that the blood of the second son will be shed…. David has made the best choice. He has opted for the moment which follows the execution, and yet he has spared us the horrible sight of the place of execution.”

That horrible sight would become a common one when the Reign of Terror started in 1793. When it ended with Robespierre’s execution a year or so later, 17,000 people had been executed. That’s a lot of heads held proudly aloft. The year after that, Brutus Condemning His Sons to Death was exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1795. It was shown again in the Paris Salon of 1801. It elicited negative reviews both times; the explicit violence made people uncomfortable.

The painting would not be seen in public again for almost two hundred years until it was loaned for an exhibition dedicated to Guillaume Guillon Lethière in Point-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, in 1991. After that it made two appearances at the Musée de la Révolution Française, one in 1992, one in 1996, and that’s it. In the 230 years since its creation, it has been exhibited for a grand total of six months. Now it is finally on display for good.


Prized papyrus declared a forgery

Friday, December 14th, 2018

An ostensibly ancient document attributed to Greek geographer Artemidorus of Ephesos has been conclusively declared a fake after an extensive investigation by the Turin Public Prosecutor’s Office.

The ownership record was nebulous, a sadly common state of affairs for most of the papyri bought on the antiquities market. The claim was that the fragments of papyrus were part of a roll of random discarded documents that had been crumpled up together to stuff something, maybe an animal mummy. It was purported to have been acquired in the first half of the 20th century by Saiyd Khashaba Pasha and then lost or sold after World War II. It was exported out of Egypt legally in 1971 and imported into Germany by antiquities dealer Serop Simonian. The roll was unwrapped in Germany in the early 1980s and 200 document fragments were revealed, 50 of them from a single document.

It was puzzled back together and published in 1998. The recto consisted of three columns of prose, two drawings of bearded heads, 23 drawings of hands, feet and heads and a small section of a map. The verso was covered by more than 40 drawings of animals, each one named, and two more columns of prose.

The map alone was priceless, the most ancient extant one from the Greco-Roman world and the only one found on papyrus. The quantity and quality of the drawings are unique among papyri. The prose is an oddly convoluted discussion of geography. Fourteen lines significantly overlaps a surviving fragment of text by pioneering geographer Artemidorus of Ephesos who was one of the main sources used by later geographers and historians like Strabo and Pliny the Elder whose works have survived. The works of Artemidorus are largely lost, surviving only in quotations from the works of later authors.

In 2004, it was acquired by the Compagnia San Paolo Art Foundation, the non-profit foundation of Turin’s Banco di San Paolo, for 2.75 million euros ($3,369,850). The fragments were sent to the Laboratoria di Papirologia of the State University of Milan for additional study and conservation. The foundation wanted to donate it to Turin’s famed Egyptian Museum, the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities outside of Egypt, but the then-director of the museum, Eleni Vassilika objected strenuously. She didn’t trust its provenance. To be more specific, she knew for a fact that Simonian trafficked in fakes having dealt with his shenanigans when she was director of the Hildesheim museum. She also knew that he had a nasty history of smuggling artifacts in through Switzerland, going so far as to saw the larger ones to make them easier to conceal in shipment.

Her superiors disagreed. Many prestigious, reputable experts attributed the papyrus to Ardemidorus of Ephesos. Radiocarbon testing found the papyrus dated to between 15 and 85 A.D. and the ink was judged consistent with the types produced in the 1st century. The issue was far from decided. Scholars continued to debate its authenticity. Luciano Canfora proposed in several papers, books and articles published from 2007 onwards that it was a fraud perpetrated by notorious 19th century forger Constantine Simonides. His contentions were hotly debated by scholars who pointed to the C14 dating of the papyrus and authentic-seeming stylistic elements as evidence of it being a real 1st century document, albeit an idiosyncratic one.

A 2013 publication by Canfora caught the attention of the Turin Public Prosecutor’s Office which initiated an investigation in 2013. Five years later, the investigation has concluded that the preponderance of the evidence points indicates that the Artemidorus Papyrus is indeed a fake. The ink from the drawings, previously untested out of preservation concerns, is much more recent than the 1st century. The papyrus shows signs of having been placed on a zinc metal screen and then subjected to treatment with acids that transferred the zinc.

The documentation tracing its recent history — the legal export authorization from Egypt dated April 1971 in which it is destribed as “paper bag with partial images in gold,” the German government’s release of the papyrus at the time of the 2004 sale describing it as being nothing of value to cultural patrimony — dismisses it as worthless. Egypt appraised its market value as 20 lire.

Unfortunately nothing will come of this finding beyond a few red faces. The statute of limitations has long since expired, so the foundation is out 2.75 million euros and Serop Simonian will get off scott free.


Bronze Age jewelry found in Slovakia

Thursday, December 6th, 2018

Archaeologists excavating in the village of Hozelec in northern Slovakia have unearthed a unique trove of Bronze Age jewelry. The site was excavated from April to July of this year as part of a study of Hozeleck’s history, but nobody expected to find Bronze Age artifacts. The team discovered small fragments of bronze spirals, funnel-shaped pins and three bronze discs.

The funnel-shaped objects are highly unusual because they seem to be made of a white metal. It’s possible that it’s bronze with a high tin content in the alloy. Another possibility is that the alloy was treated by some means, perhaps etched with an organic acid or heated to the exact temperature necessary to raise the white metal to the surface. Either way, the whiteness of the funnel pins indicates advanced metallurgic techniques that were previously unknown in Bronze Age finds in Slovakia.

Rarest of all, remnants of leather were found attached to the spirals, funnels and discs. This is likely all that’s left of the bag the spirals and funnels were buried in, with the perforated discs used to sew the top of the bag shut. The organic remains were radiocarbon dated to approximately 3,000 years ago. That dates the metal artifacts to the Middle or Late Bronze Age. It’s also only the second time ever that Bronze Age hide has been found in Slovakia, and the last time was 40 years ago.

The Bronze Age pieces were discovered early in the dig. Artifacts of much younger age were discovered in subsequent weeks, including Celtic buckles, a spade, firearm and horseshoes from the Middle Ages, a 1616 solidus coin, a link chain, a copper hook, knives and assorted other objects that were likely accidentally lost.

The finds have been put on temporary display at the Spiš Museum’s Historical Town Hall. Museum experts will study them further before a permanent exhibition is arranged.





January 2021


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