The first time I remember becoming completely interested in Egyptian art was in my fifth grade social studies class. We learned about art that was found in the tombs of ancient rulers of one of the worlds greatest settlements. I remember there was a picture of the golden death mask of King Tut on the front of the book, but it would take at least half the year to get to that chapter. Of course, it was the first chapter that I read. As a child, I would get very excited about learning something new. As an adult, that thrill is hard to come by. Learning is still something that I actively seek out, but rarely comes with a sense of eagerness and thrill.
The Metropolitan Museum of art showcases a massive collection of Egyptian art and artifacts. I felt like that fifth grade kid again, peering through the glass at real life mummies and imagining myself in the midst of an ancient civilization. It brought back a childlike wonder that is so easily lost in the day to day monotony of adulthood.
The difference between peering into history as an adult, instead of through childlike wonderment, is the ability appreciate the work. As an adult, you know what it must have taken to achieve such amazing feats of human creation. To see tool marks from hand tools used to carve solid granite into the human form is awe inspiring. I also could not help but to think that these were people, with human fears and beliefs. They spent much of their lives physically preparing for their own death. They were very aware of the delicate nature of our own existence. I couldn’t help but suspect that they, as a culture, must have feared death very much to go through so much in preparation for the inevitable. They believed in their Gods and afterlife with their whole being, much like the radical beliefs that exist is all the great civilizations of our time. The ancient Egyptians probably never imagined that someone such as myself would be peering through a glass box at the carved image of a king, intended to carry his soul into the afterlife (something that was never intended to be disturbed), and wondering what their lives were really like. It makes me think about the people who will be one day peering into some unforeseen future museum wondering about our civilization. What will they think of us?