Erin L. Thompson

Erin L. Thompson is a professor at the City College of New York.

Letter

Left to the Imagination

25 December 2025

‘Imagine the kouros with pubic hair,’ T.J. Clark writes, while praising what he describes as the ‘aesthetic-erotic coup de grâce’ made by an Archaic Greek artist in omitting any trace of body hair on a nude marble youth with a magnificent head of braided hair, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (LRB, 25 December 2025). To do so takes little imagination, though, since the kouros did...
From The Blog
24 November 2025

Jonathan Tokeley-Parry, who died last month, had a business card in the early 1990s that described him as ‘Jonty “Brown Trews” Tokeley: Smuggler and Fabricator of Egyptian Antiquities’. By his own estimate, Tokeley-Parry smuggled three thousand antiquities out of Egypt in 65 trips over six years. His success was down to his skill as a ‘fabricator’. He made genuine antiquities appear fake by covering them in layers of conservation plastic, plaster, gaudy paint and gilt. His goal was to make a piece ‘look as much as possible like a kitsch bazaar thing, the sort that idiots buy in hotel shops’.

From The Blog
25 April 2024

‘Why are you crying, habibi?’ Mansoor Adayfi asked the elephant. He had got into the habit of talking to animals at Guantánamo Bay. Held in solitary confinement for years, he talked to the feral cats who prowled around his cage.

Even the Eyelashes: Inca Mummies

Erin L. Thompson, 4 January 2024

The Spanish​ garrotted Atahualpa, the last Inca emperor of what is now Peru, in 1533, but their control over their new territory was far from certain. One way they tried to solidify their claim was to promote alliances between those loyal to the Spanish crown and the remaining Inca aristocracy. When the conquistador Pedro Pizarro went to ask one Inca nobleman for permission to arrange a...

From The Blog
28 September 2023

Ignoring the many ‘no pets’ signs, a man on the trail to the world’s largest Confederate monument was leaping from rock to rock with a ball python wrapped around his neck. I began to think I hadn’t really understood Stone Mountain at all. 

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