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Considering Roman art as a cumulative process could help resolve a small iconographical problem. Cubiculum N in the burial hypogeum under the Via Dino Compagni in Rome (c.350–75 ce) features a series of figure scenes referencing the exploits of the mythological hero Hercules. One of these scenes, presently entitled Hercules Slaying an Unknown Enemy, has no direct equivalent in extant Roman art and so has proved difficult to identify. This article suggests that Hercules’ battle with Cacus is most likely the incident referred to here. This is because Antonine medallions and coins, and third-century Roman sarcophagi, use imagery associated with the Cacus story that collectively could have contributed to the design of the Unknown Enemy panel. Further, identifying the defeated enemy as Cacus fits in with, and indeed helps to clarify, programmatic themes and associations already established in the other figure scenes in this funerary chamber.
Tenderness is not a notion commonly associated with the Romans, whose mythical origin was attributed to brutal rape. Yet, as Hérica Valladares argues in this ground-breaking study, in the second half of the first century BCE Roman poets, artists, and their audience became increasingly interested in describing, depicting, and visualizing the more sentimental aspects of amatory experience. During this period, we see two important and simultaneous developments: Latin love elegy crystallizes as a poetic genre, while a new style in Roman wall painting emerges. Valladares' book is the first to correlate these two phenomena properly, showing that they are deeply intertwined. Rather than postulating a direct correspondence between images and texts, she offers a series of mutually reinforcing readings of painting and poetry that ultimately locate the invention of a new romantic ideal within early imperial debates about domesticity and the role of citizens in Roman society.
Images relating to imperial power were produced all over the Roman Empire at every social level, and even images created at the centre were constantly remade as they were reproduced, reappropriated, and reinterpreted across the empire. This book employs the language of social dynamics, drawn from economics, sociology, and psychology, to investigate how imperial imagery was embedded in local contexts. Patrons and artists often made use of the universal visual language of empire to navigate their own local hierarchies and relationships, rather than as part of direct communication with the central authorities, and these local interactions were vital in reinforcing this language. The chapters range from large-scale monuments adorned with sculpture and epigraphy to quotidian oil lamps and lead tokens and cover the entire empire from Hispania to Egypt, and from Augustus to the third century CE.
Images of the gods were omnipresent in the Roman world. Cult images served many functions, but some were the focal point of ritual activity in temples and are termed ‘idols’ in this book. After exploring both the ancient and modern terminology of cult images, this chapter turns to evidence for belief in the divinity of idols. Many ancient writers, including Arnobius of Sicca, give a sense that many Romans perceived idols to be divine, or at least endowed with agency. It is suggested that this aspect of Roman religion can be understood through cross-cultural comparisons and anthropological theories of agency in religious art. To help us build a complete picture of the place of Roman cult images in Roman religion, and to avoid the problem of the so-called museum effect, the book adopts a biographical approach, exploring the births, lives, and death of cult images. It focuses on cult images and temples in the western Roman Empire, including Rome, Gaul, and Germany, from the Roman Republican period, or the pre-Roman Celtic and Germanic Iron Age, to late antiquity and the early medieval period.
Violence played a significant role in Roman identity, and images of war and violence were pervasive throughout the Roman world. The myths and history of Rome are filled with brutal acts of rape, fratricide and war. Scenes of violence appear in nearly every medium of representation in both public and private settings, on grand public monuments and small, personal objects. A Roman house might have images of violence on its walls and floors, with subjects ranging from mythological brutality to gladiatorial combats or military conquest. Violent myth and battle scenes adorned tombs and sarcophagi, and of course, triumphal monuments bearing scenes of victory and conquest stood in public spaces for all to admire. Although domestic, funerary and public representations of war and violence had specific functions within their contexts, they exhibit commonalities. Violent images were a means of visualising power in the Roman world. They served as reminders of Roman power structures: the power of citizens over non-citizens; the power of Roman men over women, children, slaves and clients; and the power of the emperor over his subjects as well as foreigners and anyone who threatened the welfare of Rome.
The antiquities trade is the subject of contentious debate. The anti-trade position stems from a long unquestioned stance within academia that private ownership of antiquities inherently results in archaeological site destruction and the loss of valuable data. However, there is little data to support this notion. It also ignores the enormous contributions to our shared knowledge of the past that have been made through art collecting and museum acquisitions. The narrative that the destruction of ancient sites is directly tied to Western demand for ancient art is overly simplistic. Despite the ongoing destruction in the Middle East and North African region, virtually no artifacts from there have entered the Western trade in recent years. Opportunistic treasure hunting by desperate locals and intentional destruction of ancient objects for religious reasons cannot be curtailed by increased legislation in Western nations. Fetishizing mundane ubiquitous antiquities as sacrosanct objects of great national importance that must be retained within modern borders in a globalized world and demanding criminalization of the legitimate international art trade are counterproductive. In many archaeologically rich countries, antiquities are regarded as items to sell to foreigners at best or sacrilegious objects to be destroyed at worst. The free trade in cultural objects is itself an institution that needs to be protected. An open legitimate trade in antiquities is now more than ever necessary to ensure the preservation and dissemination of worldwide cultural property.
The two greatest historians of Roman art in our century, G. Rodenwaldt and R. Bianchi Bandinelli, spoke rightly of the essentially bipolar nature of art at Rome. In decorative painting Tiberian Classicism carries on the Augustan heritage in order to achieve an air of matestas and gravitas in individual reception areas. Basically the reign of Tiberius was a pedestrian repetition of the pattern laid down by the Principate of Augustus. On the whole art in the Tiberian age followed in the path traced by Augustus, but it accentuates the traits of formal stiffness and the progressive loss of organic unity and ideological coherence of the Augustan model. To the eternal formal bipolarity between Classicism and the baroque, within which was played out the Augustan experience of official, programmatic art and its crisis in the age of Claudius and Nero, there corresponds the no less eternal bipolarity of mentalities and idioms between 'art of the centre of power' and 'plebeian art'.
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