Nestled within the heart of Nicosia's walled city, the Byzantine Museum of the Archbishop Makarios III Foundation stands as a testament to Cyprus's profound religious and artistic heritage. Housing the richest collection of Byzantine art on the island, the museum offers a captivating journey through centuries of faith and creativity.

A Treasure Trove of Sacred Art
The museum boasts an impressive collection of approximately 230 icons, spanning from the 9th to the 19th centuries. Visitors can trace the evolution of icon painting, from the formalized figures of the early Byzantine period to the more expressive and naturalistic styles of later centuries. The collection is particularly strong in works from the 12th century, a period considered the golden age of iconography in Cyprus.

The Return of Lost Masterpieces
A poignant and significant part of the museum is dedicated to repatriated art. A key highlight is the collection of 6th-century mosaics from the Church of Panagia Kanakaria. These precious artifacts were illegally removed and sold abroad following the Turkish invasion in 1974. After a lengthy legal battle, they were returned to Cyprus and now serve as a powerful symbol of the island's enduring cultural identity and the ongoing efforts to protect its heritage.

The museum also displays fragments of 15th-century frescoes from the Monastery of Christ Antiphonitis, which were also looted and later recovered. These rescued treasures tell a story not only of artistic brilliance but also of cultural resilience.

A Modern Museum Experience
First opened in 1982, the Byzantine Museum has undergone significant renovations to enhance the visitor experience. The exhibits are now arranged chronologically, allowing for a clearer understanding of the development of Byzantine art in Cyprus. The museum has also embraced modern technology, with interactive digital displays, QR codes for 3D views of objects, and even virtual reality and hologram stations that bring the ancient world to life.

Housed within the esteemed Pierides Foundation Museum in Larnaka, Cyprus, is a small but profoundly significant artifact: a terracotta figurine of a sitting man from the Chalcolithic Period (c. 3900-2500 BCE). This enigmatic figure offers a rare and intimate glimpse into the beliefs and artistic expressions of one of the island's most pivotal prehistoric eras.

The ArtifactCrafted from local clay, the figurine is characterized by its highly stylized and abstract form. The man is depicted in a seated position, often with his legs crossed or folded beneath him. Key features, such as the face, are typically rendered with simple, incised lines or small pellets of clay, giving it a minimalistic yet expressive quality. The figure is often depicted as ithyphallic (with an erect phallus), a common trait in prehistoric art that is widely interpreted as a powerful symbol of fertility, virility, and the continuation of life. The artist's focus was clearly not on realistic portraiture but on conveying a symbolic or ritualistic idea.

Archaeologists believe such statuettes served various purposes: 

• Fertility Idols: As a symbol of male potency, the figurine may have been used in rituals intended to ensure the fertility of the land, livestock, and the community itself. 
• Ritual Objects: It could have represented a deity, an ancestor, or a shamanic figure used in religious ceremonies.
• Grave Goods: Placed in tombs, it might have been intended to serve or protect the deceased in the afterlife.
  
  A Lasting Legacy
  Today, the Terracotta Figurine of a Sitting Man stands as a testament to the rich artistic and spiritual world of ancient Cyprus. It is a powerful reminder that long before the island became a crossroads of great empires, it was home to a unique and vibrant culture, whose silent symbols continue to fascinate and inspire us.

My artistic practice is inspired by nature, civilization, displacement, ethnic conflict, and questions of identity. It is deeply rooted in both memory and geography, brought to life through materials gathered during my travels—sand, seashells, driftwood, and spices from my birthplace.
​
I have visited many archaeological sites across South Asia, the Middle East, and the Caribbean islands, but the La Rozel Neanderthal site was uniquely exciting and profoundly significant for my artistic field. This was my first visit as both an archaeologist and a discoverer, and working on it was truly unforgettable. Guided through the site’s story and history, I took photographs and left with Dominique Cliquet’s book on Le Rozel, carrying the experience forward in memory and research.

That day, the sun did not set—it shone brightly, holding back the rain. On the dry earth, Neanderthal footprints appeared with striking clarity. Seagulls circled above, as if guarding the site until my arrival. The atmosphere of the forest, the breeze from the sea—unchanged since their time—connected present and past in a single moment.

The Rozel site, located on the western coast of the Cotentin Peninsula (Manche, France), is one of the most remarkable Paleolithic complexes in Western Europe. Dated to approximately 80,000 years ago, it has yielded an exceptional corpus of remains linked to Neanderthal occupation. Its outstanding significance lies in the extraordinary preservation of habitation surfaces, including Neanderthal hand and footprints—an exceptionally rare occurrence in the global archaeological record.

Archaeological excavations, initiated in the 1960s and conducted systematically since the 2010s, have revealed the remarkable integrity of the occupation layers. Unlike most prehistoric sites, which primarily yield tools or faunal remains, Le Rozel preserves direct traces of human presence: footprints and handprints of adults, adolescents, and children. These ichnological records suggest a small group of about ten to fifteen individuals who frequented or resided at the site.

Situated at the base of an Armorican sandstone cliff, the site lies in an area of intense erosional processes. Stratigraphic analysis shows alternating sandy and silty deposits, sealing and protecting archaeological surfaces. These conditions enabled the fossilization of activity zones and movement paths, largely undisturbed post-deposition.

Excavations, directed by Dominique Cliquet and his team (CNRS, INRAP, Regional Archaeology Service), revealed:

• a rich lithic assemblage dominated by flint flakes and Mousterian scrapers,
  
• faunal remains of large herbivores (horse, aurochs, deer) with butchery marks,
  
• constructed hearths, attesting to fire mastery for cooking and spatial organization.
  

Together, these finds confirm the residential function of the site, interpreted as a temporary encampment associated with hunting and carcass processing.

The most striking contribution of Le Rozel is the discovery of several hundred footprints and handprints attributed to Neanderthals. Morphometric and biometric analyses indicate a group composition of around fifteen individuals, spanning adults, adolescents, and children. These ichnological records provide a rare window into group demography and the spatial organization of daily activities.

Le Rozel offers unprecedented insights into the social and economic dynamics of Neanderthal groups in northwestern Europe. The preservation of entire habitation surfaces allows for detailed behavioral reconstructions in situ, whereas most Mousterian sites preserve only fragmentary evidence. It also illustrates the adaptability of Neanderthals to Atlantic coastal environments during a climatic transition toward glacial conditions.​

The Paleolithic site of Le Rozel represents a key milestone in Neanderthal studies. Its combination of stratigraphic, lithic, faunal, and ichnological data makes it a unique laboratory for Paleolithic archaeology. Given its fragility under the threat of marine erosion, safeguarding efforts—including 3D digitization and timely publication of findings—remain critical to preserving this irreplaceable heritage.

There were no mobile phones or social media back then. The only way to reach family was through a phone card, used in the CYTA telephone booths next to the park. Those hardworking women labored from Monday morning to Saturday night—their only day off was Sunday. On that day, they would emerge with joyful smiles, like birds flying free from a cage.

Usually, they’d start their sunday by attending the "Holy Cross" Catholic church next to the Paphos Gate, followed by phone calls to families, and then head to the Cyta park, where they'd spend the day chatting and sharing rice and curry. These moments were sweet—filled with laughter and connection—but always carried a quiet undertone of sadness, like a thin line running through the memory.

Since 2012, I’ve returned to Cyprus regularly. Each visit, I make it a point to walk through the same gate—a ritual that stirs memories, both distant and vivid. While the footpaths and surrounding area saw some renovation over a decade ago, the wooden gate itself has remained untouched since the end of the medieval era. Beyond it, the buffer zone—still marked by its familiar blue-and-white line—stands frozen in time, unchanged since the 1974 conflict.

Beneath the tunnel at Paphos Gate, artist Glyn Hughes created an installation titled Synergy. It stood as a quiet witness to the passage of time—much like my own memories.

Pour la huitième fois, les Fêtes Maritimes de Brest vont rassembler plus d’un millier de bateaux venus du monde entier. C’est l’extraordinaire richesse d’un patrimoine culturel maritime et de savoir-faire qui se donne rendez-vous à Brest du 12 au 17 juillet 2024.
Les concerts et animationsQue vous soyez amateurs de musique traditionnelle, de street art, de fanfares, d’ambiance festive ou que vous ayez envie d’embarquer pour une mission paléoclimatique poétique… laissez vous surprendre par la programmation culturelle inouïe et éclectique des Fêtes maritimes !

Bethlehem, Summer 1996 – Where History Breathes and Faith Resonates

In the scorching summer of 1996, I journeyed to Bethlehem, with few friends, a name that carries echoes of two millennia of history. The land was parched under a relentless sun—a true desert climate, where the heat clings like a second skin. As we walked through its narrow streets, I felt an odd familiarity, a sense of tension in the air: soldiers stationed everywhere, rifles slung over their shoulders, checkpoints marking invisible borders. It instantly reminded me of Jaffna in the late ’80s—a city under the weight of conflict, where life persists against all odds.

Yet, amid this backdrop, the people of Bethlehem radiated something extraordinary: humility and warmth. Every smile felt genuine, every greeting an open door. We visited a local restaurant and tasted authentic Palestinian cuisine for the first time—rich, layered flavors, and surprisingly spicy, almost like Sri Lankan food, igniting my senses as much as the desert heat.

But the true heartbeat of Bethlehem lay beyond its streets, inside a sacred structure that has drawn pilgrims for centuries: the Church of the Nativity, believed to mark the birthplace of Jesus Christ. The headline of my journey—the reason Bethlehem lives in the world’s memory. Standing there, I was struck by its unique architecture: four different periods of history, four different churches layered one upon another, each stone whispering the faith of generations.

Inside, the atmosphere was unlike anything I had ever felt—a deep, vibrating energy, as though time itself had paused. I stood silently, thinking of Jesus, 2000 years ago. What was His life like in this land? How did hope and hardship coexist then as they do now? The questions lingered, echoing in the stillness.

Bethlehem, in that summer of 1996, was more than a destination—it was an encounter with faith, history, and humanity. A city where ancient walls hold sacred memories, and where people, despite struggles, welcome strangers with open hearts.