Introduction
The Grand Egyptian Museum is not just a place to display artifacts. It was designed from the very beginning to be a true world cultural center.
The story of the museum began in 2002, when the Egyptian government announced an international competition to design a new museum complex — one that would preserve and showcase some of the world’s oldest treasures, unique to Egypt alone. In 2003, the foundation stone was laid in a grand ceremony at the site chosen for the project. The location is extraordinary: just two kilometers from the Pyramids of Giza, the last surviving wonder of the ancient world.
The winning design came from an Irish architectural firm, Heneghan Peng Architects, based in Dublin. Their proposal envisioned a highly modern concept of museum display. The company was asked to execute the project on a vast plot of 491,000 square meters.
Construction began in 2005, but unfortunately, the project faced environmental, financial, and political setbacks that delayed progress for years. Only after Egypt’s political situation stabilized in 2014 did work resume in earnest. Now, the building has been completed, and the Grand Egyptian Museum is set to become the largest archaeological museum complex in the world.
When it opens, the museum will house more than 100,000 artifacts. For the very first time, the complete treasure of Tutankhamun — all 5,000 objects — will be displayed together, including pieces that have never been shown since their discovery. That is why I am planning, God willing, to continue the Tutankhamun series and explain the most important 120 objects from his treasure in detail.
In addition, the museum will feature 12 permanent galleries, each showcasing masterpieces from across Egyptian history — beginning with prehistory, through the Pharaonic dynasties, and continuing into the Greek and Roman periods.
But the Grand Egyptian Museum is not just another archaeological museum like the many we find across the world. This time, the vision is much broader: it will be a place not only for scholars and researchers but also for children, students, and anyone eager to engage with Egyptology. In this sense, it revives the ancient idea of the Library of Alexandria — a great intellectual hub that attracted scholars from around the globe.
The Suspended Obelisk of Ramsis the second
Now, let us begin with the first artifact visitors will encounter as they enter: the suspended obelisk of Ramses II, displayed in the Museum Garden.
This garden covers 19,000 square meters, and right at its heart stands the spectacular obelisk from the 19th Dynasty, belonging to Ramses II. Obelisks were among the most iconic achievements of ancient Egyptian civilization. If the pyramid was Egypt’s supreme architectural feat, the obelisk was no less impressive — a singular creation of elegance, power, and symbolic meaning.
Every obelisk was carved from a single massive block of stone — often granite or limestone — weighing tens of tons. The process of cutting, transporting, and erecting such colossal pieces, using only human strength and ingenuity, remains astonishing even today. Consider how easily a mistake could have cracked the monument during quarrying, moving, or raising — yet the Egyptians perfected this art over 3,000 years ago.
In ancient Egyptian texts, the obelisk was called “tekhenu.” Later, the Greeks named it obeliskos — meaning “a small spit” or “nail” — a term first used by Herodotus. In Arabic, it became “masalla,” meaning “large needle,” which connects with the imagery still used for upholstery tools. Europeans, meanwhile, referred to them as “needles.”
Architecturally, an obelisk has four sides, narrowing to a pyramid-shaped tip known as the benben. This upper point was often gilded with electrum to reflect the sun’s rays, symbolizing the solar god Ra. The base usually carried inscriptions of the king who commissioned it, while the pedestal itself could be decorated with baboons in a worshipping pose — celebrating the sunrise.
Symbolically, then, the obelisk was deeply linked with solar worship. It pointed upward toward the sky, connecting earth with heaven, and marked sacred spaces — often placed in pairs at the entrances of temples, just as church bell towers or mosque minarets mark sacred sites in other traditions.
For this reason, the architects of the Grand Egyptian Museum placed an obelisk at its entrance, echoing the ancient tradition of temple gateways. But here, they designed it in a unique and innovative way: suspended on four pillars, making it the first of its kind in the world.
Why suspend it? The answer lies in a rare detail: Ramses II had an unusual cartouche carved at the bottom of the obelisk, which had remained hidden for over 3,500 years. Suspending the monument allows visitors to stand beneath it and see this cartouche for the very first time.
The obelisk itself weighs 90 tons, but the supporting structure was engineered to hold 300 tons with ease. Its base is black — symbolizing Kemet, the ancient name of Egypt, meaning “the Black Land.” The word “chemistry” itself derives from this ancient root, as Egypt was once seen as the birthplace of alchemy and science.
The Grand Statue of King Ramsis 2
From there, visitors move on to the Grand Hall (the Atrium) — a vast space of 7,000 square meters, larger even than Karnak’s Hypostyle Hall. Here stands one of the museum’s most breathtaking sights: the colossal statue of Ramses II, welcoming visitors as they enter.
The Royal Beards
The Roman emperor Hadrian was famously enthusiastic about Greek culture. In fact, he was so passionate that he turned Athens into the cultural capital of the Roman Empire. Hadrian was also deeply enamored with Greek gods, many of whom were traditionally depicted with thick beards. Wishing to imitate them, he grew a beard himself.
This idea — of the beard as a symbol — mirrors the tradition of ancient Egypt. In Egyptian culture, a beard symbolized masculinity, virility, strength, elevated status, and dignity. Yet in reality, the pharaohs themselves regularly shaved their faces. During religious rituals and official ceremonies, however, they wore a false beard, which carried immense symbolic importance.
This is evident even in the case of Queen Hatshepsut — a woman who represented herself in statues with a false beard, just like a king. The divine beard, often curved at the tip, was usually crafted from precious materials such as lapis lazuli or turquoise. The royal beard, by contrast, was distinct from the shorter styles worn by high officials and courtiers. Whereas the divine beard was long, narrow, braided, and sometimes plaited, the king’s beard was straight, sometimes slightly wavy, and unique in design.
Royal barbers, who shaved the pharaohs, enjoyed special status at court, while ordinary barbers were also highly valued in society. They used sharp copper razors, ensuring a clean shave. In general, Egyptian men took great pride in shaving, leaving their beards to grow only in two situations: mourning or long journeys. Foreigners, by contrast, were depicted with heavy beards in Egyptian art — this is why Asiatic captives are often shown with thick facial hair, a visual marker distinguishing them from Egyptians.
The Royal Head dress
Now, let us turn to the royal headcloth. We previously touched on the nemes headdress when we discussed Tutankhamun’s golden mask. To summarize: the nemes was a common Egyptian head covering, appearing in countless depictions. However, when combined with the royal cobra (the uraeus), it became a royal nemes, an unmistakable emblem of kingship.
The nemes was usually a piece of white linen, draped over the head and extending over part of the shoulders, with folds falling at the back. Importantly, it did not cover the ears — symbolically allowing the king to listen to the advice of his counselors and the grievances of his people. In Egyptian iconography, the nemes was also associated with life, the rays of the sun, and the solar god Ra.
Now, let us look at the
Column of Merneptah.
Who was Merneptah? He was the fourth pharaoh of the 19th Dynasty, and the 13th son of Ramses II. Born after twelve elder siblings, he outlived them all — largely because Ramses II reigned for over 95 years, far longer than most of his children survived. By the time Merneptah came to the throne, he was already 70 years old. He ruled for about ten years, ascending without difficulty or opposition.
Early in his reign, a rebellion broke out in Palestine, as was common after the death of a pharaoh and the accession of a new one. Merneptah quickly dispatched an army to crush the uprising, recording the scenes of battle on the walls of his temple at Karnak. But this was not his greatest challenge. The true danger came from the west.
A massive wave of Libyan tribes crossed the desert into the Nile Delta, aiming to settle and seize land. At the same time, groups of the so-called “Sea Peoples” — seafaring migrants from Asia Minor and the Aegean — joined forces with the Libyans. Together, they plotted to attack Memphis and Heliopolis, the two great centers of Egyptian religious and administrative power in the Delta. This strategy echoed the movements of the Hyksos centuries earlier, who had exploited weakness to occupy Egypt for nearly a hundred years before being expelled by Ahmose.
But the pharaohs of the New Kingdom had learned their lesson well. They did not allow history to repeat itself. Merneptah confronted the threat head-on. The Sea Peoples, after all, had already caused the downfall of the mighty Hittite Empire.
According to Egyptian records, Merneptah defeated the Libyans and Sea Peoples in just six hours of battle. The Libyan leader fled, and Egyptian texts claim that 9,400 enemy soldiers were killed, while vast numbers of prisoners were taken.
To immortalize this victory, Merneptah commissioned monumental inscriptions, among them the Victory Column you see here. This column, discovered in 1970 at Merneptah’s temple in Matariya, stands 6.6 meters tall, carved from red granite, and weighs around 17 tons. Its hieroglyphic inscriptions celebrate his triumph over the Libyans and the Sea Peoples.
In 2008, the column was moved to the Citadel of Saladin for restoration, where it remained for ten years. Finally, in 2018, it was carefully transported to the Grand Egyptian Museum — an operation that took eight hours and required extreme precision to prevent any damage.
Statue of Arsinoe
Next, we turn to a pair of statues from the Ptolemaic period. They represent a king and a queen. Looking closely at the female statue, scholars believe it most likely depicts Arsinoe II, based on the facial features. This statue was discovered at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea and was part of the rich trove of artifacts recovered from the submerged remains of ancient Alexandria.
sunken antiquities
The sunken antiquities discovered off the coast of Alexandria are among the most fascinating finds of recent decades. The queens of the Ptolemaic era played a remarkably important role — not only politically, but also religiously. This dual influence explains why statues of Ptolemaic kings and queens were erected in temples across Egypt, and why their images appear so frequently on the walls of Ptolemaic temples. We saw examples of this earlier in our discussions of the temples at Philae, Kom Ombo, and Edfu.
Even after their deaths, these monarchs were often deified, honored with daily rituals and offerings, much like the gods. For instance, Queen Arsinoe II was especially venerated in the Ptolemaic period as a protector of the seas and sailors.
The statue before us, carved in red granite, dates to this era (305 BCE – 30 BCE). It was found in the sunken city of Heracleion, submerged in the waters of Aboukir Bay.
So, what was Heracleion? Known in ancient Egyptian as Thonis (Ta-henet) and later renamed Heracleion by the Greeks and Romans, it was once a thriving port city. Located near the Canopic branch of the Nile, about 32 kilometers northeast of Alexandria, it served as Egypt’s great maritime gateway. The city was crisscrossed with canals, reminiscent of Venice, enabling ships to move easily between docks and trading stations.
Heracleion’s origins trace back as far as the 12th century BCE, but its importance peaked in the Late Period and especially under the Ptolemies. Ancient texts — including those of Herodotus — recall it as the city visited by Helen of Troy, whose abduction sparked the Trojan War. A massive temple was built there in honor of the god Amun, and the city flourished for over a thousand years.
Eventually, however, rising sea levels, floods, and earthquakes caused Heracleion to sink beneath the waves. For centuries, it was considered a “lost city”, hidden under the Mediterranean. Then, in the late 20th century, French archaeologist Franck Goddio detected a colossal stone face emerging from the seabed near Aboukir Bay. This discovery led to the excavation of Heracleion’s remarkable underwater ruins.
Archaeologists have since recovered more than 2,000 artifacts from the site, including colossal statues, sphinxes, columns, capitals, inscribed stone blocks, and even small animal sarcophagi used as votive offerings. Among the finds were over 60 shipwrecks, including vessels from Napoleon’s fleet destroyed by the British at the Battle of the Nile in 1798, caches of gold coins, and massive statues up to 5 meters tall.
Statue of Arsinoe of the sunken treasures of Alexandria
The two colossal granite statues you see here, each 5 meters in height, represent a Ptolemaic king and queen. Although no inscriptions survive to identify them by name, scholars suggest that the queen may well be Arsinoe II, judging from stylistic details. These statues were among the 293 artifacts included in the celebrated Sunken Cities exhibition, which traveled to London, Paris, Zurich, and four U.S. states in 2015.
Many other recovered pieces are displayed in the Alexandria National Museum. The statues before us, however, were eventually transferred to the Grand Egyptian Museum for permanent display.
Now, let us ascend the
Grand Staircase.
On the left as we enter, we encounter the
Ten Statues of Senusret I,
the second king of Dynasty 12, one of the most powerful rulers of Egypt’s Middle Kingdom. His reign (c. 1956–1911 BCE) was marked by military campaigns, architectural projects, and a resurgence of centralized authority.
Senusret I came to power under dramatic circumstances. His father, Amenemhat I, founder of the dynasty, was assassinated in a palace conspiracy while Senusret was leading a military expedition. Because he had already been crowned co-regent alongside his father, Senusret was able to return swiftly to the capital, suppress the coup, and secure the throne. This turbulent beginning shaped him into a cautious and formidable monarch.
During his reign, he campaigned into Nubia, extended Egypt’s southern frontier to the Second Cataract, and garrisoned the region to control trade routes. He also sent expeditions to Sinai and the Eastern Desert for copper and stone. Architecturally, he restored old temples and built new ones, including additions to the sun temple at Heliopolis — where his great obelisk still stands today in modern Matariya.
His pyramid complex at Lisht south of Cairo was designed with elaborate defenses to protect his burial, though like most Middle Kingdom pyramids, it was eventually looted.
The ten nearly identical statues before us were discovered in 1894 near his funerary temple at Lisht. Each shows the king seated on a cubic throne, wearing the royal nemes headdress, the false beard, and the short pleated kilt (shendyt). Carved from limestone, they were remarkably well preserved, having been buried unused in a pit beside the temple. Scholars believe they were intended for display but later deposited carefully underground when plans changed.
The thrones of these statues bear reliefs of symbolic figures: in some, the twin gods of the Nile — representing Upper and Lower Egypt — binding the papyrus and lotus plants around the sema-tawy emblem, symbolizing unification. In others, the gods Horus and Seth perform the same act, representing the reconciliation of order and chaos, a divine endorsement of political unity.
The artistry of these statues reflects the Memphite school of sculpture, heirs to the classical style of the Old Kingdom, which produced masterpieces like the statues of Khafre and Menkaure. Compare these to the slightly rougher, more abstract Theban school of the 11th Dynasty, and you see a deliberate return to classical ideals under Senusret I. The precision of muscle definition, serene expression, and balanced form all point to this revival.
Grand Staircase
The Grand Staircase itself — a monumental 6,000 square meter space rising the height of six floors — is designed as a conceptual journey. Inspired by ancient Egyptian beliefs in the ascent of the soul from earth to the afterlife, it guides visitors thematically through four central ideas:
- Kingship in Ancient Egypt
- Divine Architecture and Sacred Structures
- The Pharaoh’s Connection to the Gods
- The Journey to Eternity and the Afterlife
This narrative culminates in a breathtaking panoramic view of the Giza pyramids, visible through vast glass panels at the staircase’s summit. Here, the ancient tombs themselves appear as if they are part of the museum’s display, underscoring their role as the eternal resting places of the pharaohs.
These so-called “Roman gods” actually had temples that were Egyptian in design, even when built in the Greek or Roman periods. They housed Egyptian deities, and the architectural features were purely Egyptian, following the natural evolution of native temple design. They had nothing to do with Greek or Roman architecture.
The Romans, much like the Ptolemies before them, always claimed to be the legitimate heirs of the Egyptian kingship. For the priesthood, the most important thing was simply that a king sat on the throne—whether Egyptian or foreign. The reason is straightforward: offerings were always made in the name of the reigning king. If there was no king, then offerings could not be properly presented to the gods.
This is why, for instance, at the Temple of Edfu—one of the latest great temples built in the Ptolemaic period—we sometimes find empty cartouches. Likely, the royal name was added temporarily, perhaps inscribed on a silver sheet that could be swapped out when a new ruler came to power, or maybe even written in ink. The principle remained the same: whoever occupied the throne—Ptolemaic king or Roman emperor—was recognized by the temple priests as the legitimate ruler for religious purposes. Outside the temple, people might rebel, resist, or even despise foreign rulers, but inside the temple it was different: rituals and offerings required a king’s name, any king’s name, for the gods to receive them.
That explains the unusual
Statue of Caracalla,
a Roman emperor, shown here. Look closely, and you’ll see a blend of Roman and Egyptian features: the heavy Roman hairstyle and beard, combined with traditional Egyptian royal attributes—the double crown, the nemes headdress, and the short kilt known as the shendyt.
Caracalla’s real name was Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, son of Emperor Septimius Severus. Severus had two sons, Caracalla and Geta, and for a short time the empire was divided between them. But Caracalla had his brother murdered and ruled alone for about six years, from 211 to 217 CE. Ancient sources almost universally describe him as cruel, unstable, and bloodthirsty—one of Rome’s most tyrannical emperors. His very family name, Severus, literally meant “the harsh” or “the cruel.”
One of his most significant acts was the famous Antonine Decree (Constitutio Antoniniana), which granted Roman citizenship to all free inhabitants of the empire. Though it sounded generous, it was mainly intended to expand the taxpayer base, strengthening the empire’s finances by increasing the number of people obligated to pay taxes.
Caracalla had a lifelong obsession with Alexander the Great. He imitated Alexander’s style and even traveled to Egypt to visit his tomb in Alexandria, entering the city in a grand procession modeled after Alexander’s. He expected the Alexandrians to welcome him as a second Alexander, especially since he had granted them Roman citizenship. But the opposite happened: the Alexandrians, famous for their sharp wit and sarcasm, mocked him instead. Enraged, Caracalla ordered a massacre of the city’s population.
When the Catacombs of Kom el-Shoqafa were later discovered, one of the halls filled with heaps of bones was at first thought to belong to Caracalla’s massacre victims—so much so that it was nicknamed the “Hall of Caracalla.” Although later studies showed the bones were not human remains, the name has stuck to this day.
Caracalla’s cruelty eventually caught up with him. Just two years after his visit to Egypt, he was assassinated by his own guards in 217 CE.
The statue before us, carved from red granite, comes from his reign (198–217 CE). It was discovered in the village of Sheikh Fadl in Middle Egypt.
Unlike the Greeks, whose gods generally appeared in purely human form, most Egyptian deities could take on both human and animal shapes. This made it difficult to reconcile the two religions directly. To bridge the gap, the Greeks and Egyptians together created a new composite god, one who embodied traits of both traditions and could be accepted by both peoples.
This was Serapis—a carefully crafted fusion. Serapis combined the Egyptian gods Osiris and Apis, with elements of the Greek deities Zeus, Dionysus, and Hades. In art, Serapis is always shown in Greek fashion: wearing Greek robes, with curly hair and a thick beard—features associated with Greek gods. Yet on his head rests a distinctive crown in the form of a grain basket, symbolizing abundance. This was no accident: Egypt at that time was famously the “breadbasket of the world,” supplying grain to the Mediterranean.
To complete his divine image, Serapis was paired with a consort who was already beloved in both Egypt and abroad: Isis. Her cult had long spread beyond Egypt’s borders, making her a natural partner for this new god.
Statue of Serapis and Isis
The statue before us dates to the Greco-Roman period (332 BCE – 294 CE). It is carved from alabaster, though its exact findspot remains unknown.
And now we arrive at the fourth and final stage of the Grand Staircase display: “The Journey to Eternal Life.”
For the ancient Egyptians, death was never regarded as the end of existence. Rather, it was the gateway to a new beginning—the passage into the afterlife, where one would be reborn and live forever. Yet the Egyptians never fully defined the geography of this otherworld. What we know comes from scattered texts, tomb paintings, and ritual inscriptions, from which scholars have pieced together various interpretations.
Some evidence suggests they imagined the afterlife deep beneath the earth—appropriate, since the dead were buried underground. In this vision, the underworld was a mirror of earthly life, ruled by Osiris, god of the dead. There was a river like the Nile, fertile fields to farm, and even a recurring flood.
Other traditions placed the afterlife in the far west—the land of sunset, where the sun disappeared each evening and the desert stretched to infinity. This is why tombs and cemeteries were almost always built on the Nile’s western bank, oriented westward, and why the afterlife was often called “the West.” The dead themselves were referred to as “the Westerners.”
A third belief held that the afterlife was in the sky—the eternal realm of the sun and stars. The Egyptians saw the stars as immortal and unchanging, so they imagined that the souls of kings in particular rose to join them. In early times, only the pharaoh was thought to ascend: his spirit transformed into a star, traveling daily across the heavens with the sun god Ra. Pyramid Texts describe the king as “a newborn star rising in the eastern sky,” accompanying the bright star Sirius, or even merging with Ra himself, seated on the solar barque.
This belief later expanded. By the New Kingdom, it was no longer just kings: any righteous person could hope to ascend, provided they had lived justly and received the proper burial rites.
The Egyptians envisioned three possible destinies for the dead.
- For the wicked, the afterlife offered annihilation—burned in fire, beheaded, or cast upside down, wandering lost between worlds. In tomb art, such souls are often drawn inverted, as in the tomb of Ramesses IX.
- For the unworthy or faithless, eternal blindness and confusion were imagined—the soul stumbling aimlessly, face down. The Book of the Dead and temple scenes vividly depict such punishments.
- For the virtuous, however, the reward was eternal life: the soul became one with Osiris, sailing with Ra in his solar journey through day and night.
One striking difference between Egyptian belief and other ancient traditions is how the deceased is portrayed. In most cultures, the dead are shown as lifeless bodies lying still. But in Egyptian art, the dead are almost always active—farming in the blessed fields of the afterlife, plowing, harvesting, or working at the craft they once practiced in life. In the texts, they are even depicted helping row the sun god’s barque across the heavens. Death, for the Egyptian, was not rest, but eternal work and responsibility.
Even the Pyramid Texts exhort the soul: “Climb the rays of the sun; ascend the heavenly stairway.” Eternal idleness was never part of their worldview; life—even in the next world—meant activity, duty, and renewal.
Of course, for this eternal life to be possible, the body had to be preserved. Protecting the corpse was essential. That’s why tombs and coffins were constantly redesigned: to safeguard the mummy and ensure the soul’s rebirth.
In the Old Kingdom, kings were buried in sealed pyramids with heavy stone sarcophagi, often decorated with palace façades and eye motifs so the dead could symbolically look out at the living world. In the Middle Kingdom, wooden coffins became common, inscribed inside and out with “Coffin Texts”—magical spells to guide the soul safely through the perils of the underworld. Later, anthropoid coffins, shaped like the deceased, appeared, sometimes with painted or carved faces resembling the dead.
By the New Kingdom, the custom evolved further. Kings were encased in multiple nested coffins, often gilded, before being placed in a great stone sarcophagus. The wealthy commissioned elaborately decorated coffins, painted with protective gods, while the poor had simple wooden boxes, sometimes little more than household chests repurposed for burial.
With that background in mind, we can now turn to the magnificent coffins displayed here on the Grand Staircase—beginning with that of
Coffin of Queen Meresankh III,
granddaughter of King Khufu, builder of the Great Pyramid.
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