There’s something captivating about a fragment. A single piece of something once whole that invites viewers to imagine, reconstruct, and wonder. At just over five inches tall, Fragment of a Queen’s Face at the Metropolitan Museum of Art draws viewers into one of ancient Egypt’s most fascinating artistic moments. Though only part of a once-complete sculpture, this yellow jasper piece tells a powerful story of craftsmanship, beauty, and mystery.
The Glow of Yellow Jasper
Crafted during the New Kingdom during the Amarna Period (c. 1390–1336 BCE), this fragment is made from polished yellow jasper. The material itself was rare and difficult to work with because of its hardness. Its luminous surface would have made it an excellent choice for a royal portrait. The sculptor carved full lips and a gently curving cheek, capturing softness and vitality even in stone. Even though she is missing most of her face, we can see how beautiful she once was (and in my opinion, still is.)
Look closely and you’ll see a mortise hole on the back, a clue that this piece was meant to be part of a larger, composite sculpture. Egyptian artists often combined multiple materials to create lifelike representations, using different stones or inlays for eyes, brows, and other details. It is possible that this piece was used to hold a fine wig for one of the royal women during the Amarna period.
Royal Identity and Amarna Aesthetics
The fragment’s style places it within the Amarna period, a brief but revolutionary era of Egyptian art under Pharaoh Akhenaten. This period broke from traditional Egyptian artistic conventions in favor of more naturalistic and expressive forms. It was all in the name of eliminating worship of Egypt’s wide pantheon and narrowing focus onto a single deity: the sun disk Aten. Uprooting thousands of years of religious tradition was, unsurprisingly, unpopular and people returned to the old ways upon Pharaoh’s death.
But who is this queen? Scholars have proposed several possible identities, though none are certain. The fragment was once thought to represent Queen Tiye, Akhenaten’s mother, but the youthful features don’t align with her age during the Amarna period. Other candidates include Queen Nefertiti, one of the most iconic figures in Egyptian history, or Kiya, a lesser-known royal consort. Without additional parts of the sculpture, the queen’s true identity remains elusive.
The Power of a Fragment
This piece is a perfect example of how an incomplete object can hold as much power, and perhaps even more, than a fully intact one. The absence invites speculation, drawing attention to what remains: a sensual mouth, the suggestion of a smile, and the play of light on polished stone. In a way, its fragmentation deepens our engagement, giving space for imagination and emotional connection.
The Met’s curators have even explored this idea in their exhibition Connections: Better Broken, which featured this artwork as a meditation on the power of incomplete objects.
A Face, A Mystery, A Moment
What makes this small piece so compelling is how much it says with so little. It’s a testament to the skill of ancient Egyptian artisans and the enduring fascination we have with royal imagery. More than 3,000 years later, we still wonder: who was she? What did the complete sculpture look like? How was it used, displayed, or worshipped?
As artist Barry X Ball reflected in The Met’s Artist Project, “this fragment is like a dream... so complete in itself.” Maybe that’s the true power of a fragment, it leaves us just enough to see, and just enough to wonder. And that is the power of art.
Want to see it for yourself?
Visit Fragment of a Queen’s Face at The Met’s online collection, or, if you’re in New York, find it in Gallery 121. Let me know: who do you think this queen was?
💬 Join the ConversationWho do you think this mysterious face belonged to—Nefertiti, Kiya, someone else entirely? Drop your thoughts in the comments or reply to this email. I’d love to hear your theories!