At Birthplace of Olympics, Performers at Flame-Lighting Ceremony Feel a Pull of the Ancient Past 

A woman in the role of a priestess holds the Olympic flame after lighting it during the rehearsal of the flame lighting ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics Games at the ancient temple of Hera on the Olympia archeological site, birthplace of the ancient Olympics in southern Greece, on April 15, 2024. (AFP)
A woman in the role of a priestess holds the Olympic flame after lighting it during the rehearsal of the flame lighting ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics Games at the ancient temple of Hera on the Olympia archeological site, birthplace of the ancient Olympics in southern Greece, on April 15, 2024. (AFP)
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At Birthplace of Olympics, Performers at Flame-Lighting Ceremony Feel a Pull of the Ancient Past 

A woman in the role of a priestess holds the Olympic flame after lighting it during the rehearsal of the flame lighting ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics Games at the ancient temple of Hera on the Olympia archeological site, birthplace of the ancient Olympics in southern Greece, on April 15, 2024. (AFP)
A woman in the role of a priestess holds the Olympic flame after lighting it during the rehearsal of the flame lighting ceremony for the Paris 2024 Olympics Games at the ancient temple of Hera on the Olympia archeological site, birthplace of the ancient Olympics in southern Greece, on April 15, 2024. (AFP)

No one knows what music in ancient Greece sounded like or how dancers once moved.

Every two years, a new interpretation of the ancient performance gets a global audience. It takes place in southern Greece at the birthplace of the Olympic Games.

Forty-eight performers, chosen in part for their resemblance to youths in antiquity as seen in statues and other surviving artwork, will take part Tuesday in the flame-lighting ceremony for the Paris Olympics.

Details of the 30-minute performance are fine-tuned — and kept secret — right up until a public rehearsal Monday.

The Associated Press got rare access to rehearsals that took place during weekends, mostly at an Olympic indoor cycling track in Athens.

As riders whiz around them on the banked cycling oval, the all-volunteer Olympic performers snatch poses from ancient vases. Sequences are repeated and re-repeated under the direction of the hyper-focused head choreographer Artemis Ignatiou.

“In ancient times there was no Olympic flame ceremony,” Ignatiou said during a recent practice session.

“My inspiration comes from temple pediments, from images on vases, because there is nothing that has been preserved — no movement, no dance — from antiquity,” she said. “So basically, what we are doing is joining up those images. Everything in between comes from us.”

Ceremonies take place at Olympia every two years for the Winter and Summer Games, with the sun’s rays focused on the inside of a parabolic mirror to produce the Olympic flame and start the torch relay to the host city.

Women dressed as priestesses are at the heart of the ceremony, first held for the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Leading the group is an actress who performs the role of high priestess and makes a dramatic appeal to Apollo, the ancient god of the sun, for assistance moments before the torch is lit.

Over the decades, new ingredients have been progressively added: music, choreography, new colors for the costumes, male performers known as “kouroi” and subtle style inclusions to give a nod to the culture of the Olympic host nation.

Adding complexity also has introduced controversy, inevitably amplified by social media. Criticism this year has centered on the dresses and tunics to be worn by the performers, styled to resemble ancient Greek columns. Faultfinders have called it a rude departure from the ceremony’s customary elegance.

Organizers hope the attire will create a more positive impression when witnessed at the ruins of ancient Olympia.

Counting out the sequences, Ignatiou controls the music with taps on her cell phone while keeping track of the male dancers at the velodrome working on a stop motion-like routine and women who glide past them like a slowly uncoiling spring.

Ignatiou has been involved with the ceremony for 36 years, as priestess, high priestess, assistant and then head choreographer since 2008. She takes in the criticism with composure.

She’s still moved to tears when describing the flame lighting, but defers to her dancers to describe their experience of the five-month participation at practices.

Most in their early twenties, the performers are selected from dance and drama academies with an eye on maintaining an athletic look and classic Greek aesthetic, the women with hair pulled back in neat double-braids.

Christiana Katsimpraki, a 23-year-old drama school student who is taking part at Olympia for the first time, said she wants to repay the kindness shown to her by older performers.

“Before I go to bed, when I close my eyes, I go through the whole choreography — a run through — to make sure I have all the steps memorized and that they’re in the right order,” she said. “It’s so that the next time I can come to the rehearsal, it all goes correctly and no one gets tired.”

The ceremony is performed to sparse music, and final routine modifications are made at Olympia, in part to cope with the pockmarked and uneven ground at the site.

Dancers describe the fun they have in messaging groups, the good-natured pranks played on newcomers and fun they have on the four-hour bus ride to the ancient site in southern Greece — but also the significance of the moment and the pull of the past.

“I’m in awe that we’re going there and that I’m going to be part of this whole team,” 23-year-old performer Kallia Vouidaski said. “I’m going to have this entire experience that I watched when I was little on TV. I would say, ’Oh! How cool would it be if I could do this at some point.’ And I did it.”

The flame-lighting ceremony will start at 0830 GMT Tuesday. A separate flame-handover ceremony to the Paris 2024 organizing committee will be held in Athens on April 26.



Private Museums Bolster Cultural Tourism in Qassim Region

A prominent example is the private museum of Abdullah Al-Suhaibani, an expert with over 40 years of experience in gemstones and minerals - SPA
A prominent example is the private museum of Abdullah Al-Suhaibani, an expert with over 40 years of experience in gemstones and minerals - SPA
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Private Museums Bolster Cultural Tourism in Qassim Region

A prominent example is the private museum of Abdullah Al-Suhaibani, an expert with over 40 years of experience in gemstones and minerals - SPA
A prominent example is the private museum of Abdullah Al-Suhaibani, an expert with over 40 years of experience in gemstones and minerals - SPA

Qassim Region is witnessing a significant rise in private museums, as individual collectors transform personal passions into vital cultural projects. These museums serve as a living memory for the community, preserving rare artifacts, historical documents, antique weapons, and vintage collections that document critical stages of the region's history. By connecting the present with its roots, these sites strengthen national identity and provide essential research resources for scholars and tourists alike, SPA reported.

A prominent example is the private museum of Abdullah Al-Suhaibani, an expert with over 40 years of experience in gemstones and minerals.

His collection features rare agates, fossils from ancient geological eras, and unique rock formations discovered throughout the Kingdom.

The museum acts as a scientific platform, promoting geology and field research while educating the community on the Kingdom’s diverse natural resources and mineral wealth.

Located near Al-Khabra Historical Village, these private initiatives have become key cultural landmarks in Riyadh Al-Khabra Governorate. Their growth aligns with Saudi Vision 2030 goals to develop cultural and scientific tourism, support local content, and position the Kingdom’s heritage and natural sites as premier global destinations.


Saudi Arabia Showcases Literary Diversity at 2026 Rabat International Book Fair

‏The Saudi pavilion brings together a range of government entities and cultural institutions - SPA
‏The Saudi pavilion brings together a range of government entities and cultural institutions - SPA
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Saudi Arabia Showcases Literary Diversity at 2026 Rabat International Book Fair

‏The Saudi pavilion brings together a range of government entities and cultural institutions - SPA
‏The Saudi pavilion brings together a range of government entities and cultural institutions - SPA

The Literature, Publishing and Translation Commission launched the Saudi pavilion at the 2026 International Publishing and Book Fair in Rabat, which continues through May 10.

‏Commission CEO Dr. Abdullatif Alwasel affirmed that the Kingdom’s participation in the event embodies the deep historical ties between Saudi Arabia and Morocco while showcasing a diverse, contemporary cultural movement driven by Saudi Vision 2030.

“Saudi Arabia’s participation at the 2026 International Publishing and Book Fair emphasizes the Kingdom’s commitment to spotlighting publishers and the creative literary sector, which continues to go from strength to strength,” Alwasel said, SPA reported.

‏He added: “The Saudi pavilion is an opportunity to invite people from every corner of the world to experience Saudi culture and diverse literary works, showcase unique Saudi talent and creative thinking, while facilitating cultural exchange and engaging discussions.”

‏The Saudi pavilion brings together a range of government entities and cultural institutions, led by the Literature, Publishing and Translation Commission, highlighting the integrated approach of the Kingdom’s cultural environment.

‏As part of the pavilion, the commission has organized a series of topical panel discussions, poetry evenings, and workshops featuring Saudi writers and creative thinkers, encouraging discussions on key issues relating to the literature, publishing and translation sector and its impact on Arab and global conversations.

‏The participation at the 31st International Publishing and Book Fair event reaffirms the Kingdom’s efforts towards platforming local talent and enhancing collaboration and cultural exchange.


Georg Baselitz, the German Painter Who Turned Postwar Art Upside Down, Dies at 88

German artist Georg Baselitz attends the opening of his exhibition "The Heroes" (Die Helden) at the Staedel museum in Frankfurt, Germany June 29, 2016. (Reuters)
German artist Georg Baselitz attends the opening of his exhibition "The Heroes" (Die Helden) at the Staedel museum in Frankfurt, Germany June 29, 2016. (Reuters)
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Georg Baselitz, the German Painter Who Turned Postwar Art Upside Down, Dies at 88

German artist Georg Baselitz attends the opening of his exhibition "The Heroes" (Die Helden) at the Staedel museum in Frankfurt, Germany June 29, 2016. (Reuters)
German artist Georg Baselitz attends the opening of his exhibition "The Heroes" (Die Helden) at the Staedel museum in Frankfurt, Germany June 29, 2016. (Reuters)

Georg Baselitz liked to insist — sometimes as a taunt, ‌sometimes as a shield — that he did not know how to paint. That he had "no talent".

Rejected at 17 by the Dresden Academy of Fine Arts, he talked his way into an academy in East Berlin only to be expelled two semesters later for "sociopolitical immaturity".

"I was stupid," he recalled. "I was uneducated, but I was a rebel."

From that rebellion, Baselitz forged a career that made the child of Nazi Germany, schooled under Soviet communism, into one of the defining artists of postwar Germany.

The painter and sculptor, known for his depictions of raw bodies and inverted landscapes, has died at the age of 88, Germany's Die Welt newspaper reported on Thursday. No cause of death was given.

A REBEL SHAPED BY TWO DICTATORSHIPS

Georg Baselitz was born Hans-Georg Bruno Kern on January 23, 1938, in the Saxon village of Deutschbaselitz, a name he later adopted.

His father, a village schoolteacher and Nazi Party member, recorded Hans-Georg's birth in his diary. Inexplicably, he recorded the birth of none of his other four children, the Sächsische Zeitung daily reported in 2018.

After the war, ‌his father was ‌barred from teaching. Baselitz's mother took over his duties at the school.

Baselitz spent his childhood ‌amid ⁠the unforgiving discipline of ⁠Nazi Germany, and his adolescence amid the rubble and ideological re-education of the country's Soviet occupation zone.

"I was born into a destroyed order, a destroyed landscape, a destroyed people, a destroyed society," he later recalled. "And I didn't want to reestablish an order: I had seen enough of so-called order. I was forced to question everything, to be 'naive', to start again."

After he was expelled from the East Berlin academy, he moved to West Berlin, where he finished his studies and absorbed modernism in a way that felt, he said, like a sudden intake of oxygen.

He recalled the shock of first seeing works by Jackson Pollock and other abstract expressionists — evidence, in his telling, that ⁠the United States had a serious culture despite what he had been taught.

But rather than ‌imitate an American style, Baselitz turned back to German sources, drawing on expressionism, ‌folk traditions and imagery often dismissed by critics as ugly or even "degenerate".

SCANDAL AS A CALLING CARD

At a 1963 solo show in Berlin, authorities ‌seized two of his paintings on obscenity grounds. The episode made Baselitz famous.

The early pictures, marked by raw bodies, stunted masculinity and abrasive humor, were widely seen as provocation.

Supporters and museum curators have also framed them as a blunt report on postwar German life: damaged, compromised and struggling to find a new footing.

That sensibility carried into his mid-1960s "Heroes" paintings, which presented hulking, battered figures that looked less like victors than survivors ‌stumbling out of a defeated national myth.

But Baselitz's most recognizable works came in 1969, when he began painting motifs upside down.

After earlier experiments that fractured or partially inverted figures, he ⁠produced fully inverted works including "The ⁠Wood on Its Head" and "The Man by the Tree".

He did not simply flip finished images, he composed and painted them inverted from the start.

That approach altered how viewers read his works. By disrupting recognition, it forced attention onto the mechanics of painting — its color, balance and composition.

"An object painted upside down is suitable for painting because it is unsuitable as an object," Baselitz said.

The inversions made Baselitz an international figure in the 1970s and 1980s, as the market and institutions that once treated him as scandalous increasingly positioned him as a pillar of European postwar art.

His public reputation, however, did not settle into quiet respectability.

He repeatedly sparked backlash with remarks about female painters, including a widely reported claim that women "don't paint very well".

He also confronted the limits Germany's history places on gesture and imagery: a wooden sculpture shown at the 1980 Venice Biennale was widely read as evoking a Nazi salute, a reading he denied.

He was married to Johanna Elke Kretzschmar, known as Elke, with whom he had two sons.

In later life, Baselitz painted huge canvases from his wheelchair and moved his brushes and paints in a rolling cart.

"The sensible thing, in my situation, would naturally be to say: 'I stick to small formats'," he told Spanish newspaper El Pais at age 87. "But of course I don't do what's sensible. What's right for me is the nonsensical."