Queen of Sheba
Treasures from Ancient Yemen
British Museum

Josie Appleton

This exhibition is really about the archaeology of ancient Yemen - the 'Queen of Sheba' bit was added on to entice the crowds. The result is a schizophrenic exhibition.

The first part of the exhibition is about the myth of the Queen of Sheba. Here we see how her meeting with Solomon, king of the Jews, has been taken up differently by different cultures and times.

For medieval scholars, who had the Queen pictured in one of the windows of Canterbury Cathedral, she was a symbol of the Christian church striving to understand Christ (represented by Solomon). The Queen later became a symbol of alluring sexuality. Victorian artists depicted her meeting with Solomon in the terms of romantic love, showing the two being drawn towards each other.

The advert for the 1959 film Solomon and Sheba pictured a lavacious Gina Lollobrigida leaning back into the arms of her co-star (Lollobrigida on Sheba: ‘this queen is a son of a bitch’). In another shot, Lollobrigida is seen lying in a bathtub (the film distributions advised cinemas to arrange for a local girl to sit in a bathtub in the lobby, preferably with blue bubble bath).

But the section on the myth of Sheba bears very little relationship to the second part of the exhibition, on the archaeology of the Yemen. This deals with statues, pottery, jewellery, architecture and other archaeological finds, mainly from between 300-400BC and 200AD – though there are a few finds from the third millennium BC.

Indeed, there is barely any effort to link the two parts: one explanatory panel notes that the kingdom of Saba (‘called Sheba in English’) went back to 900BC, and so could have coincided with Solomon's rule. But, the panel continues, it is more likely that the Queen of Sheba myth was invented by old testament writers, keen to associate the Israelite monarch with the most powerful southern Arabian kingdom. From then on, nothing more is said of the woman.

The second half of the exhibition makes more sense in its own right. The main story it tells is that of a traditional kingdom over the period of the rise and fall of Greece and Rome. The kingdoms of southern Arabia were linked through trade to classical civilization, and you can see the imprint of Greece and Rome on southern Arabian archaeology. But, in the main, the artefacts show the resilience of the kingdoms, as they continually reverted to their traditional modes of expression.

The sculptures and inscriptions show a society in the grip of its gods. There is a white alabaster statue of the King of Awsan, neighbour and enemy of the Sabeans. He has virtually no torso or legs: his neck blends almost straight into his huge, square sandals. His arms are placed out in front of him, in offering to the gods; his vacant eyes stare straight ahead.

Southern Arabians would represent themselves in small dedicatory statues: they would dedicate an object to a god, and make a tiny model of themselves, hands outstretched, offering the object.

In these statues there is little attempt to portray the form of the human figure: little attention to the shape of the body, or the way the body moves. Instead, we see the figure-as-offering: the shape of the body is functional to its purpose, which is to show a human being in the act of dedication. In these traditional southern Arabian works, the human figure has no life of its own – it is completely subservient.

And yet, from time to time we see the influence of Greece and Rome. The statue of the King of Awsam in 100AD shows the Roman in him – he wears a pleated tunic, and his face and body are more realistic. His hands, though, are still placed out in front of him.

There is also a recovered hoard of Hellenistic artefacts. Here we see a beautiful pair of statues, two boys riding a lion. Each is lithe and cherubic, balancing himself on his beast with a now-disappeared rein. And there are the remnants of hollow metal statues – a smooth arm, a twisted mask.

The southern Arabians made a few efforts to copy this Hellenistic art that was arriving from across the desert. But the influence never took root, and they constantly reverted back to their traditional style.

It is a shame that the exhibition had to be split in this way, between its popular hook and its substance. It is understandable why the British Museum did it: ‘Archaeology of the Yemen, 300BC-200AD’ is hardly an appetising title. But by trying to sell an exhibition on an idea that bears little relationship to the artefacts, the British Museum makes the exhibition incoherent – it makes it two parts that don’t hang together.

There is also a dishonesty here. The exhibition gives you the stuff about Lollobrigida in her bathtub, and then, only when it is too late for you to get out, feels able to present you with these strange finds from the southern part of the Arabian peninsula 2000 years ago.