Stepping out into the sunlit arena and onto the track. The noise of a cheering crowd swells up alongside competitors as they race around the stadium and past those who just entered the site of this athletic spectacle. The atmosphere is overwhelming and intimidating, but exhilarating at the same time. What an experience. Being here. In this moment.
Then, there is the call. Stepping up to the starting line. The body feels poised. After all, it has been readied for this in countless hours of training and exercise during the past few months. This is the instance and instant to prove oneself, to show that one belongs here amongst the best in the field, hailing from all corners of the world.
Yet, nothing ever quite prepares one for the actual event. Now, when everything has to line up for the best possible performance mind and body can achieve on this particular day in time. Confidence and doubts engage in one last heated debate. Straining the nerves. But then again, every move has been practiced endlessly. To near perfection. Or one would think. The body itself has internalized what it needs to do. One ought to count on mere muscle memory at this point. Also, every possible situation and scenario has been played out in one’s mind, all odds have been considered and variables tested beforehand. So yes, ready. On your marks! Set. Go.
Sudden release. Everything explodes forward. The body springs into action. Quick acceleration. One’s mass is driven forward by sheer will and trained muscle force. In smooth, routine motion sequences. It quickly builds momentum. The body is catapulted into the race. And the mind is leading the way.
And there it is, this unrivalled rush when experiencing such a seemingly impossible, self propelled speed. Little compares to the way it feels when flying along the track and around the stadium, feet barley touching the ground. Strength and velocity. Guided by elegant and fluid, but forceful and highly efficient movements. Cruising. It ought to look almost effortless and easy, because nothing is wasted into actions that don’t move one forward.
When fitness, performance and achieved speed exceeds that of the others in the race, one’s exhilaration grows exponentially with the distance one puts between oneself and the competitors. If the body feels like it can bring the lead home, if fatigue can not slow it down enough to lose the difference, the released adrenaline and endorphins will let one tap into additional and dormant energy reserves. There is no pain. Seemingly no exhaustion. Just the joy of running. Running fast. Running ahead. And surfing atop the cheers of the spectators across the finish line.
How many people may have ever experienced something like that? Such a truly once-in a-lifetime moment? So rare and so exceptional. Treasured. An impressive and exciting race that make athletes heroines and heroes of the day. Their feats, replayed in animated discussions in the streets as well as at kitchen tables at home. Their names and stories shared widely. Vicarious pride across the home regions of the victorious few.
And yet, even those names eventually sink into oblivion. Neglected even by the annals. The laurels turn to dust. All those who have raced against time to a personal or overall victory inside the marbled round of Kallimarmaro in Athens, deposed by the absolute perseverance of that very time. Like in the long exposure of a photograph that blurs moving bodies into invisibility. Out of the picture, all who have once graced the track and the field. Right here. And throughout the history of this place. Which was build, after all, to host and honor them.
So what took place here, given that this is and was such a dedicated location? A site where people congregated and convened. (And still do.) Who were they? Where did they come from? Where did they go thereafter? What did they accomplish? For themselves and others? What amounted their performance to? What made it so extraordinary, if we cannot remember? So little has been passed on. And even less written in stone.
The only record is stone. An architectural structure made entirely out of marble. We believe to know what took place here. We may fill in the blanks to bring it back to life: In our imagination, in books and pictures. But individuals have come and gone over the centuries. We barley recall the names and performances of those we have cheered on ourselves in the last Olympic Games, just four years back, let alone anyone from some 2000 years ago. But if these stones could, indeed, speak, would they tell us stories of unbelievable performances, of athletic dramas, epic victories, tragic losses, trials and tribulations, overcome obstacles and heartbreaking failures? Alas, we will never know the details. Stones remain silent witnesses.
What they form and frame is this historic elongated oval track that has been pounded by the feet of uncounted athletes throughout the ages. And the surrounding stand that held all the spectators who have cheered them on. Or so one imagines for game days. Mostly deserted, however, in regular and uneventful times. As always, simply ready to receive the masses when called upon; ready to function as a suitable place to compete in and to better observe such competitions. But then, after the Romans had turned the games into gruesome spectacles, the arena was abandoned, even forgotten for centuries, like many other ancient sites. It fell into ruin, grown over and half buried. Yet, it retained an aura, because it is steeped in history. In the 19th Century it was rebuild and soon enough served its original purpose again. And as such, it keeps attracting people--athletes and other performers, spectators and tourists--who come here to this day.
Erieta Attali also has come here on a regular basis. As a runner. And as a photographer. It is a curious combination in relation to time. There is, on one hand, the time it takes to finish a race. And on the other, the time it takes to expose a photograph. Both instants eventually become cultural contributions, personal expressions to time lived. Of passing through. Through this specific place. And through this moment in human history. Leaving a mark. Coordinates of being in this world.
Attali portrays the sites—the Kallimarmaro in Athens but also what remains of ancient Olympia—with the sensitivities, appreciation and respect of an athlete, but also that of someone who is highly experienced as an architecture and landscape photographer. Although (mostly) void of people, her photographs still allude to a human presence by highlighting the very nature and intended purpose of the architectural site. It is as if a special event is waiting to take place on a balmy afternoon. And in the panoramic format of the photograph, one feels the track stretch out in front of the running self.
In a way, one could argue, there is no better person to ask to tell us something relevant and meaningful about these places than Erieta Attali. She herself has, in stride and focal lengths, considered, surveyed and taken what is eventually depicted in her photographs. She truly turns history into part of her story. She brings all that she has learned in life and from places, sites and terrains all around the globe, whether they be remote or metropolitan, and channels it here, in what is literally and figuratively close to her heart.
Forms of sporting events can be found throughout human history and all across the globe, but most famously in ancient Greece as the Olympic Games - and since 1896 as its modern international equivalent. The Panathenaic Stadium or Kallimarmaro has been host to some of the latter..
We should not forget, athletic performances, like the arts, are yet another form of cultural activity, which we pursue for various reasons, and if a talent and opportunity affords it to us. It is what we used to fill our spare time with for the pleasure of one or a few, and before we turned it (also) into professional activities. Artists, actors, writers, musicians … and athletes.
Once we had evolved into a settled species, we dedicated time we had gained towards what eventually would be called culture. Basic skills and crafts were refined into something that exceeded mere necessity. Agriculture, developing industries and trade provided what would become known as leisure time. For some people more than for others. Because with specialized abilities and aspirations we simultaneously also fractured socially. Moreover, not all of our newly honed skills were always exercised for nonviolent purposes. But as an ideal, culture’s trajectory is one of progress, emancipation and peaceful coexistence.
And we have always build temples for and to our cultural activities: museums, libraries, theaters, campuses and stadiums. Places of inspiration and ambition. In ancient Greece and elsewhere. Today’s iterations still resemble those old architectural structures and thus attend to similar functions as the original. Purpose-built to perform, compete, exhibit, learn, recreate, archive. And more. Places to visit, to gather and meet. To be social. To share. To celebrate. Here, we all aspire to be better in who we are and in what we do. Marking our existence. Lifetime turned into a biography. And all the individual biographies join into a public. In other words, these places are the not so secret centers of our societies. This is where our public lives take place. These are our public spaces.
When we finally step outside into the sunlit arena of the public and share with the world what we have achieved in a creative process and/or in single-minded preparation by training our mind, hands, eyes, or legs in what feels like a far too long and arduous personal seclusion—be the result a selection of photographs, an athletic performance or a written text, for that matter—we will have contributed meaningfully to and in the mutual interest of the culture of a broad public. Ultimately, this is the place where we belong, each of us and all together …
With the kind permission
- Ephorate of Antiquities of Ilia, The Hellenic Ministry of Culture & Sports
- Service of Newer Monuments and Technical Projects of AtticaThe Hellenic Ministry of Culture & Sports
All images copyright Erieta Attali
in collaboration and with the support of :
Le Centre Culturel Hellénique, Paris, France
Permanent Delegation of Greece to UNESCO, Paris, France
The Greek Embassy to Paris, France
Text by Daniel Blochwitz , Photography curator based in Zürich
Title
Lieux de sport, lieux d'idéaux: Photographs by Erieta AttaliType
ExhibitionFrom
May 14, 2024 09:00 AMUntil
May 21, 2024 06:00 PMVenue
Maison de l'UNESCO, salle des ActesAddress