“When, finally, on the afternoon after our arrival, I stood on the Acropolis and cast my eyes around upon the landscape, a surprising thought suddenly entered my mind: “So all this really does exist, just as we learnt at school!” To describe the situation more accurately, the person who gave expression to the remark was divided, far more sharply than was usually noticeable, from another person who took cognizance of the remark; and both were astonished, though not by the same thing. The first behaved as though he were obliged, under the impact of an unequivocal observation, to believe in something the reality of which had hitherto seemed doubtful. If I may make a slight exaggeration, it was as if someone, walking beside Loch Ness, suddenly caught sight of the form of the famous Monster stranded upon the shore and found himself driven to the admission: “So it reallydoes exist – the sea-serpent we’ve never believed in!” The second person, on the other hand, was justifiably astonished, because he had been unaware that the real existence of Athens, the Acropolis, and the landscape around it had ever been objects of doubt. What he had been expecting was rather some expression of delight or admiration.”
“A disturbance of memory on the Acropolis” S. Freud, 1936

An omnipresent yet fleeting character of the city, the visitor’s narrative often runs parallel to that of the permanent resident. These contrasting realities unify under the weight of Parthenon’s presence; a symbol that continues to live many lives. Reflecting on the monument’s centrality to the Athenian experience, the exhibition offers a contemplation of the intricacies of the visitor’s presence; its conditions of access, agency – it’s ever transforming, transient gaze.

Upon entering the space the artists treat its staged intimacy with caution: this room has received many despite its orderly appearances. Retaining this impression of hospitable absence is a tedious task; it involves the meticulous erasing of constantly accumulating traces, fragments of stories that have been carried with or left behind. In this room, you are encouraged to hallucinate your own tales.

The works in 505 merge with the furnishings in an eerie, almost muted uttering of nervousness towards the occupants and their motives. Imbued with an unsettling sense of haunting, the curated iconography obsesses over armours, monsters and knights as signals pointing towards and against romanticised historicities. Ultimately, the juxtaposition of multiple timelines ushers the viewer to remember rather than conveniently forget, offering elements that distort the prescribed escapade of the carefree traveller.