Since it was first built as a Myce­naean fortress in the thir­teenth cen­tu­ry BC, what we now know as the Acrop­o­lis has been used to wor­ship not just Greek gods, but also, in lat­er peri­ods, the Vir­gin Mary and Allah. Now, of course, with its days of mil­i­tary and reli­gious func­tions long behind it, it stands as a set of ruins. Still, they’re very pop­u­lar ruins, as evi­denced by the crowds cap­tured in the video above from Manuel Bra­vo. Though most tourists at the Acrop­o­lis come with the idea that its build­ings would have looked more glo­ri­ous in the dis­tant past, few can have much of a sense of how to imag­ine that with any accu­ra­cy. Using 3D mod­els, Bra­vo inte­grates views of how the Parthenon, the Tem­ple of Athena Nike, and oth­er struc­tures look now with how they would have looked in Athens’ gold­en age.

To ful­ly appre­ci­ate the Acrop­o­lis requires not just an idea of how it was orig­i­nal­ly intend­ed to look, as Bra­vo empha­sizes, but also the inten­tions of ancient Greek archi­tec­ture. The approach up the hill was meant to feel like an ascent from the mun­dane world into the sacred one.

Enter­ing the cen­tral space on top, the vis­i­tor was led to view­ing points that showed the sur­round­ing col­lec­tion of build­ings at their most dra­mat­ic, a design the archi­tects might have described as cin­e­mat­ic, had cin­e­ma exist­ed at the time. Even in its ruined state, the Acrop­o­lis still trans­mits a sense of how, where, and to what degree that vis­i­tor was meant to be filled with awe, as well as where he was meant to look. And noth­ing up there — at least in the absence of Phidias’ thir­ty-foot stat­ue Athena Pro­ma­chos — draws atten­tion as delib­er­ate­ly as the Parthenon.

As we pre­vi­ous­ly not­ed here on Open Cul­ture, if you make the trip to the Acrop­o­lis your­self, you can now see the Parthenon with­out scaf­fold­ing (or, depend­ing on when you go, a min­i­mum of scaf­fold­ing) for the first time in 200 years. That lack of obstruc­tion makes it eas­i­er to envi­sion the glo­ries of that cel­e­brat­ed build­ing back when it was both the tem­ple of Athena and the trea­sury of Athens. But as Bra­vo says, if you real­ly want to gaze upon the Parthenon as the ancients knew it, mar­bles and all, you’ll have to make the trek out to Nashville, Ten­nessee, where a full-scale repli­ca was built in 1897 for the city’s Cen­ten­ni­al Expo­si­tion. It may feel a bit odd to turn up in a place known for coun­try music and bach­e­lorette par­ties in search of the archi­tec­tur­al, and per­haps spir­i­tu­al foun­da­tion of Europe. But then, civ­i­liza­tion has nev­er tak­en a pre­dictable course.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Ancient Greeks Built Their Mag­nif­i­cent Tem­ples: The Art of Ancient Engi­neer­ing

A 3D Mod­el Reveals What the Parthenon and Its Inte­ri­or Looked Like 2,500 Years Ago

A Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Athens: Fly Over Clas­si­cal Greek Civ­i­liza­tion in All Its Glo­ry

The City of Nashville Built a Full-Scale Repli­ca of the Parthenon in 1897, and It’s Still Stand­ing Today

How the World’s Biggest Dome Was Built: The Sto­ry of Fil­ip­po Brunelleschi and the Duo­mo in Flo­rence

Take a High Def, Guid­ed Tour of Pom­peii

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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