The British Museum



People. People. People… Here is the full thread of a conversation in which I would like to get the head of someone from their microscopic vision of themselves stuck in their self-exulted darkness of their bumside, as dictated by the amputated history.

9: Return artefacts to their places of their origin! The glory of the piece attests to the poxy misery of your institution.

L. S. da Roma: What if they can’t be, due to insufficient resources to look after them, or the artifacts are under threat, such as those in Syria have been? Places like the BM can look after these pieces properly.

Sprocket C.: how much does it cost to look after this piece in a month?

9: L.S. da Roma, ma che dice? Do you think you can legitimise theft? British Museum is emblematic of the process why there are resources in one place and destitute in others. It’s called looting, the bread and butter of imperialism. Everything is so skintight connected, my dear Lucrezia. I’ll spare you the painful details about the trajectory of power structures by end of the 19th century, the peak of the British Empire, when these treasures were being lifted from another empire. The point is; the museum is ironically named British, for it’s 99 percent stocked with all things non-British. Which leaves us a fair definition of what ‘British’ signify in this context, exactly. Accumulation and displacement of other’s wealth and history. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

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