When was the Acropolis first photographed? The fascinating history of archaeological photography, from its origins to the digital age, is explored in the award-winning study by archaeologist Myrtia Helner.
The Earliest Known Photograph of Greece
The first known photograph from Greece was likely taken in 1839, capturing the Propylaea of the Acropolis. Following soon after were images of the Parthenon and the Temple of Olympian Zeus.
The oldest surviving panoramic view of the Acropolis—a precious record of both the sacred rock and the city of Athens—dates to 1842. This early daguerreotype, composed of two 24.1 × 9.5 cm plates, focuses on the northern side of the Acropolis and the historic Anafiotika neighborhood.
In 1852, French photographer Eugène Piot captured a series of photographs centered on the Sacred Rock. Just three years later, at the Paris World Exhibition, his work earned a first-class medal, marking him as one of the first photographers to commercialize travel photography.
A Forgotten History Brought to Light
The history of archaeological photography remains largely unknown, often considered a niche subject. However, Myrtia Helner’s study, The History of Archaeological Photography in Greece (published by OTAN), fills this gap. Winner of the 2024 State Essay & Criticism Award, the book is more than just a scholarly work—it reveals the evolution of archaeological photography from its earliest days to the digital era.
Spanning 572 pages, it blends technical insights with aesthetic discussions, offering intriguing details for both experts and general readers. The book highlights the personalities behind the lens, including renowned photographers like Frédéric Boissonnas and lesser-known pioneers such as Gesta Helner of the German Archaeological Institute (1962-1984). Helner, a visionary in the field, introduced innovative photographic equipment to Greece and moved away from the expressionist style of his predecessors.
Beyond historical narratives, the book explores how technological advancements and societal shifts have transformed the way photographers document archaeological sites and artifacts, shaping new perspectives on ancient monuments.
Greece’s First Photography Studios & Pioneers
One of the book’s key chapters delves into the first photography studios in Greece.
Philippos Margaritis opened Athens’ first photography studio in 1848, maintaining a monopoly in the field. In 1855, he became the first Greek photographer to participate in the Paris World Exhibition, winning an award for his photographs of Parthenon reliefs.
Constantinos Athanasiou, originally from Constantinople, founded his own studio in Athens in 1877, becoming the first photographer to specialize exclusively in ancient monuments.
As photographic technology improved, overcoming technical limitations, aesthetic considerations became more prominent. Over time, the number of archaeological photographs grew significantly. Today, with the rise of digital photography, these images—alongside architectural drawings—are essential tools for archaeological documentation.
Photography as a Tool for Archaeological Science
Myrtia Helner emphasizes that excavation photography not only documents artifacts but also visualizes decay—a crucial aspect of archaeological research. As photography advanced, foreign archaeological schools in Greece acquired their own equipment, and archaeologists often took on the role of photographers themselves.
The growth of photographic archives is striking:
In 1878, the French School at Athens’ archaeological journal (BCH) featured just 12 photographs.
By 1900, that number had risen to 80.
The German Archaeological Institute had 1,500 glass plate negatives in 1891—a number that skyrocketed to 14,000 by 1912.
The Connection Between Statues and Post-Mortem Photography
One of the book’s most intriguing insights is the comparison between early statue photography and post-mortem portraiture.
"Interestingly, in the early days of photography, post-mortem portraits were highly popular. The process of photographing the dead had many similarities with photographing statues—both involve motionless human-like subjects," Helner notes. She highlights how capturing a living person was far more challenging than photographing inanimate objects, requiring different techniques and artistic approaches.
An Unusual Encounter on the Acropolis
The book also recounts an amusing 19th-century anecdote involving British artist Edward Dodwell. During his visit to Greece in the early 1800s, Dodwell attempted to sketch the Acropolis monuments using a camera obscura. However, a Turkish guard (Dizdar Aga) became suspicious of his "strange device."
When Dodwell demonstrated the projection of the Parthenon onto paper, the guard—convinced it was magic—grew alarmed. At that moment, several Ottoman soldiers walked past the camera’s reflective glass, appearing on the projection. Terrified, the guard accused Dodwell of witchcraft, calling him a "devil, pig, and Bonaparte!".
Fearing for his safety, Dodwell resorted to a clever bluff: he threatened to trap the guard inside the camera obscura if he didn’t leave him alone. Panicked, the guard fled and never bothered the British visitor again.
A Visual Legacy That Endures
Myrtia Helner’s study sheds light on archaeological photography’s profound role in preserving Greece’s cultural heritage. From its early daguerreotypes to today's high-resolution digital imaging, this field has continuously evolved—bridging the past with the present and offering new ways to experience history.
