Terracotta fragment of a kylix (drinking cup) 500 BC

Curator: Here we have a fragment, a tantalizing shard really, of a terracotta kylix, or drinking cup, dating back to around 500 BC. It’s attributed to the hand of Makron, a Greek vase painter whose signature we don't see here, but whose style scholars recognize. Editor: It looks like a broken piece of night sky. Stark black against the earthy ceramic. Sort of melancholic, almost bruised, don't you think? A tangible piece of something once whole. Curator: Exactly. This object is far more eloquent as a remnant than it was complete. Consider the use. The kylix was at the heart of symposia, gatherings for intellectual and pleasurable conversation fueled by wine. Makron was one of the most celebrated painters of these vessels, filling their interiors with vibrant scenes. Editor: So this darkness… this might have been the backdrop to gods, heroes, maybe just revelers lost in drink and discourse. I love that incompleteness. It makes you want to imagine what was lost. Curator: We can safely assume figuration. Black-figure pottery dominated Athenian vase painting during this time. Figures painted in black glaze fired onto the reddish clay of the vessel. And although damaged, this glossy black still retains its sheen across millennia. Editor: Glossy tomb dirt, haha! There's something very final about this unbroken piece that remains... as if it has held this impenetrable black for so long. Maybe it symbolizes the silence after the party, the truths revealed only in the aftermath. Or the truth that we never see everything whole; some parts are always in shadow. Curator: The visual vocabulary of these kylixes often carried very sophisticated symbolic undertones – reinforcing societal values and collective identities, especially in relation to death. While our fragment denies us that visual information now, the glossy, impermeable black provides the clue, signifying the unknown realm after life and the hope for some continuing awareness of what was achieved. Editor: What was left unsaid and the parties we never finished! Even a humble pot sherd speaks with a powerful voice about memory and time’s brutal and tender way. Curator: Indeed. It is fascinating that something so seemingly humble can trigger profound conversations, don't you agree?