Thieves, soda cans and an ancient vessel

A partially completed jigsaw puzzle covers much of Henry Kim’s desk. In the airy space of his office it’s easy to overlook, but every one of its 1,000 pieces is an identical slate gray. 

“It’s the perfect puzzle for an archaeologist,” says Kim, associate vice provost and director of the Michael C. Carlos Museum. Determining the provenance of a museum artifact can also be a difficult puzzle, he notes. “One with half its pieces missing,” he adds. 

“Provenance” refers to the history of an object from the day it was crafted to the present. 

When it comes to museum objects hundreds of years old, that historical picture is always shifting. When new information turns up, it changes the landscape — just like a forgotten puzzle piece. 

“One Broken Cup and Three Fanta Cans,” a new exhibit on view at the Carlos Museum through 2030, delves into one such case, linking Atlanta’s Coca-Cola Company with classical history in a story involving thieves, soda cans and an ancient vessel from Sparta — a prominent city in ancient Greece. The exhibit’s creation illustrates the unique relationship the museum has cultivated with its objects’ countries of origin. 

“One Broken Cup” invites visitors to view six ancient pottery fragments which once formed part of a cup crafted in Sparta in the 6th century B.C.E. Five of these ceramic fragments — called “sherds” by archaeologists — were donated to the Carlos in 2006.  

The 2022 discovery of a sixth, joining sherd, in a pit dug by antiquities thieves in Italy kicked off a series of events demonstrating the five others had likely been stolen. Fanta cans left behind by looters at the spot where the fragment was excavated teach valuable archaeological lessons of their own, and are included in the exhibit, as well. 

“Without the joining fragment that was excavated in 2022, we would never have been able to access the human story behind the fragments that were donated to the Carlos in 2006,” says Ruth Allen, curator of Greek and Roman art at the museum. “And that, for me, is the whole point of my work: to know about and care for the people these objects represent.” 

When Carlos staff learned their five sherds had been looted, they returned ownership to Italy. 

And thanks to a trusting relationship that Kim and his colleagues previously established with that country, the Italian Ministry of Culture agreed: The remarkable events that pieced the puzzle together marked a unique opportunity for the university museum to educate the public about looting, repatriation and provenance. When the exhibit closes, the museum will return the fragments to their home country, along with the cans. 

“The work that the Carlos is doing to rehome objects is akin to a book with many chapters,” says Valeda Dent, vice provost of libraries and museum. “Repatriation is only the opening chapter. Those that follow are about relationship-building between the museum and our partners in other countries where these objects are being returned. This is what makes the Carlos Museum’s approach unique — it focuses on the future, not the past.” 

Kim hopes “One Broken Cup” serves as a positive example. “I want other institutions to see it is possible to collaborate with officials in other countries,” he says. “It is possible to jointly research and come up with resolutions that really do advance the field.” 

For visitors, the exhibit is a deep dive into a puzzle of provenance with twists and turns that play out like a detective novel.

A matter of trust 

This entire story — from the exchange of information with the Danish and Italian archaeologists, to the resulting loan and exhibit — was made possible by two things. The first is the online catalogue maintained by Shanley. 

The second are the unique, international relationships that Kim and his colleagues have cultivated. Since coming to the Carlos in 2022, Kim has made it a priority to develop cooperation agreements with other nations represented in the museum’s collections. 

He had been on the job for less than a week when he began conversations with Greece that led to the return of three objects to that country — and a formal agreement that keeps the door open for future discussions. 

Theodoros Dimopoulos, the consul of Greece, credits the success of that effort to the personal touch of those involved, calling Kim “the right person, with high ethical awareness and values.”  

“In my profession,” Dimopoulos says, “we see that in-person communication is an essential part of our work. Anyone can exchange letters with detailed requests but when you need to yield results, I believe that a vis a vis acquaintance and conversation will make the difference.” 

The museum’s relationship with Italy originated in 2023, when Carlos staff held its first face-to-face meeting with representatives from the Italian Ministry of Culture and carabinieri, Italian federal officials whose duties include combatting antiquities trafficking. 

At the two-day meeting in Italy, “we were on the same side of the table,” says Kim, poring over material evidence and database information about various ancient objects. This exchange of scholarly information would prove fruitful in numerous provenance investigations — including the case of the ceramic cup and the Fanta cans.

The Carlos works with Indigenous communities as well, to identify objects in its collection that require return under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act. Established in 1990, the federal law requires museums and federal agencies to identify and cooperate with Indigenous groups to return items of cultural significance. 

Carlos staff is working to analyze hundreds of objects the museum acquired from early-1900s excavations of the Etowah Mounds in Bartow County, Georgia. Representatives from the Muscogee Nation pay periodic visits to identify objects for repatriation. 

“I think the work they’re doing is phenomenal,” says Jennifer Udell, who has served as curator of university art for the Fordham Museum of Greek Etruscan and Roman Art since 2007. 

When it comes to repatriation discussions, she continues, “there’s only so much you can do with email or phone conversations. The fact that the Carlos staff have face-to-face conversations with these ministries of culture has just paid dividends, because those nations get to know the Carlos team, and they realize that they both want the same thing.” 

Kim says he would like to develop similar relationships with every country of origin represented at the Carlos. 

“I think up until this point,” he says, “the whole field of provenance and repatriation has been a pitched battle: museums on one side, governments on the other.” 

It’s a notion based in fear, says Kim, which the Carlos staff counteracts through vociferous transparency about their own efforts. 

“As an archaeologist,” he says, “not only do you study artifacts, you look to whom these objects belong, culturally. And in that regard, you have a very strong predilection toward addressing issues of provenance, ownership and being open to the idea of a shared heritage.”

Throughout the museum, exhibits foreground objects’ communities of origin while prominent gallery signage and labels tell the stories of repatriated objects on loan. Monthly blog posts written by Shanley explore the complexities of provenance and public talks invite the wider community into the conversation. 

After all, the Carlos is a university museum with a responsibility to help people see the statues, jewelry, artwork and coins housed under its roof as more than just artifacts. 

“These objects are a testament to lives that have been lived,” says Allen, “To people who were born, who loved, who cried, who felt pain, who felt joy, who made things, who believed things, who lived in a society, who died. They have lives and they connect us to people. And so, sometimes, I think to let them go home is a good thing.”