From Singular to Plural: Eros, Erotes, and the Emergence of Psyche in Hellenistic Art

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Today, I came across Wilhelm Zahn’s drawing of a group of cupids (erotes) dancing to music from a triclinium in the House of the Suonatrici (female musicians) (IX 3,24) in Pompeii.

1826 drawing by Wilhelm Zahn of a fresco of erotes and psyches dancing to music discovered in the House of the Suonatrici (female musicians) (IX 3,5) in Pompeii

 I was curious when Cupid evolved into multiple erotes in Greek art so I asked ClaudeAI about this. It replied:

“The evolution from a single Eros (Cupid) to multiple erotes in Greek art was a gradual process that occurred primarily during the Hellenistic period (323-31 BCE).

In early Greek art and mythology (Archaic and early Classical periods, 700-450 BCE), Eros was typically depicted as a singular divine figure - often portrayed as a beautiful young man with wings. This representation aligned with early mythological texts where Eros was considered a primordial deity or the son of Aphrodite.

The multiplication into groups of erotes (winged child-like figures) began appearing in Greek art during the 4th century BCE, becoming particularly prominent in the Hellenistic period. These multiple erotes were typically shown as chubby infants or small children with wings, engaging in playful activities or serving as attendants to Aphrodite.

The transition reflected broader changes in Greek artistic sensibilities and religious conceptions, as Hellenistic art tended toward more ornamental, dramatic, and emotionally expressive representations compared to earlier periods. The proliferation of erotes also coincided with the increased personification of abstract concepts in Greek art and culture during this era.”

In this example the erotes are accompanied by female psyches with butterfly wings instead of the erotes bird-like wings. So, I asked Claude AI, “When did psyches with butterfly wings begin to appear with erotes in Greek art?” It replied:

“The motif of Psyche with butterfly wings appearing alongside erotes (plural Cupids) emerged during the Hellenistic period (323-31 BCE), with more frequent depictions developing during the Roman Imperial period (1st century BCE - 4th century CE).

In Greek mythology, Psyche was a mortal woman who became the lover of Eros/Cupid in a story that gained popularity during the Hellenistic era. The word "psyche" in Greek means both "soul" and "butterfly," which led to the symbolic representation of Psyche with butterfly wings to distinguish her from the bird-winged erotes.

The earliest surviving depictions of Psyche with butterfly wings are found primarily in:

1. Roman wall paintings from Pompeii and Herculaneum (1st century CE)
2. Roman sarcophagi featuring the Cupid and Psyche myth (2nd-3rd centuries CE)
3. Gemstones and cameos from the late Hellenistic and Roman periods

These representations often show Psyche as a young woman with butterfly wings alongside one or more erotes with bird wings, creating a visual distinction between the two types of supernatural beings. The pairing became particularly popular in funerary art, where the myth of Cupid and Psyche represented the soul's journey and immortality.

While the iconography became firmly established during the Roman period, the conceptual foundation and earliest artistic explorations likely began in the Hellenistic Greek world in the 3rd-2nd centuries BCE, though fewer examples from this period have survived.

[Furthermore,] Psyche as an individual goddess with a specific identity and mythology emerged during the Hellenistic period [too,] rather than being recognized by pre-Hellenistic Greeks.

In pre-Hellenistic Greek thought (before about 323 BCE), the word "psyche" (ψυχή) primarily referred to the concept of the soul or life-breath rather than a personified goddess. While early Greek literature and philosophy discussed the nature of the soul extensively, there's little evidence of any cult worship or widespread mythological tradition surrounding a goddess named Psyche during the Archaic or Classical periods.

The detailed myth of Psyche as the mortal woman who becomes the lover of Eros (Cupid) and eventually achieves immortality appears to have developed during the Hellenistic period. The most complete surviving version comes from Apuleius' "Metamorphoses" (also known as "The Golden Ass"), written in the 2nd century CE, but the core myth likely developed several centuries earlier.

Evidence suggests that the personification of Psyche and her myth gained particular prominence in the Hellenistic period, when:

1. There was increased interest in personifications of abstract concepts
2. Art and literature explored more emotional and romantic themes
3. Mystery religions focused on personal transformation and immortality gained popularity

This pattern aligns with other developments in Greek religion during the Hellenistic era, when many personifications and abstract concepts became more fully realized as divine or semi-divine figures with their own mythologies.”

Then I asked, “Was there any kind of origin story for the multiple erotes compared to Cupid (Eros) individually being a son of Venus?” Claude AI replied:

“There weren't fully developed origin stories for the multiple erotes that match the detailed mythological parentage of the primary Eros/Cupid as the son of Venus/Aphrodite. Instead, the multiplication of erotes appears to have been more of an artistic and conceptual development rather than one anchored in specific mythological narratives.

In literary sources, there are a few approaches that suggest conceptual origins:

1. Association with Venus: Some Roman writers implied that the multiple erotes were attendants or companions to Venus rather than having their own distinct birth stories. They functioned as extensions of her divine power rather than independent deities with complex origins.
2. Nymphs and nature spirits: In some poetic contexts, erotes were grouped with nymphs and other minor nature spirits, suggesting they might share similar origins as manifestations of natural forces.
3. Personifications: As Greek and Roman mythology evolved, there was a tendency to personify abstract concepts. The erotes can be understood as personifications of different aspects of love and desire rather than beings with specific birth narratives.
4. Philosophical conceptions: Some philosophical traditions, particularly those influenced by Plato, discussed multiple forms of love (similar to his description in the Symposium). While not explicit origin stories, these philosophical frameworks may have influenced the artistic representation of multiple love deities.

The multiplication of erotes seems to have been primarily an artistic convention that developed to represent the pervasive influence of love in various contexts, rather than being driven by specific mythological narratives about their creation or birth. This stands in contrast to the primary Eros/Cupid, whose parentage (typically as the son of Venus/Aphrodite, though sometimes with other origins in earlier Greek sources) was a well-established part of classical mythology.”

I have seen frescos from Pompeii depicting scenes with both Cupid and erotes where Cupid is usually represented larger (and older) than the smaller entities so I asked ClaudeAI about this. It replied:

“In Roman art, particularly in Pompeian frescoes, there is indeed evidence of hierarchical scaling when depicting Cupid/Eros alongside multiple erotes. This artistic convention served to distinguish between their different roles and symbolic significance.

When Cupid appears as the singular, primary deity representing romantic love (especially in narrative scenes depicting the Cupid and Psyche myth), he is often portrayed larger than the subsidiary erotes. This size differentiation helps viewers identify the main Cupid figure as the actual god of love - the son of Venus/Aphrodite - rather than one of the generic putti-like attendants.

The smaller erotes typically function as:

• Atmospheric elements suggesting a romantic environment
• Attendants or servants to the main deities (Venus or Cupid)
• Visual symbols reinforcing the theme of love

This hierarchical approach is consistent with broader Roman artistic practices where size often indicated divine importance or narrative centrality. In scenes focusing specifically on the Cupid and Psyche myth, Cupid is typically depicted adult-sized or adolescent-sized, while in more decorative compositions featuring generic love themes, the distinction might be less pronounced.

We can see this pattern in several surviving examples from Pompeii and Herculaneum, where narrative frescoes depicting the actual myth show Cupid as larger and more individualized, while decorative panels (like those in your image from the House of Suonatrici) might show more equal-sized figures engaged in parallel activities representing the atmosphere of love rather than specific mythological events.”

I uploaded an image of a painted reproduction of the scene from one of Niccolini’s books produced in 1852. 

1852 painting of the entire wall containing scenes of erotes and psyches found in a triclinium of the House of the Suonatrici (IX 3,5) in Pompeii published in an 1854 book by Fausto and Felice Niccolini..The original fresco panel of the dancing psyche (top row, far right, of the vignettes) was removed to the archaeological museum in Naples but very little of it survives today except the lower right-hand corner 

Then, I asked if there was more symbolism it could ascertain from the image. ClaudeAI replied:

“The arrangement shows multiple scenes of these divine figures engaged in activities that mirror elite Roman leisure - dining, dancing, and musical performances under decorative canopies or tents. This is significant for several reasons:

1. Mirroring of Roman social activities: The scenes depict banqueting, entertainment, and leisure pursuits that would have actually taken place in the very room where the painting was displayed. Roman diners would see mythological beings engaged in similar activities to their own, creating a playful parallel between divine and mortal worlds.
2. Symbolic associations: In a triclinium specifically, these images carried multiple meanings:
• The erotes (cupids) connected to love and pleasure
• The psyches (with butterfly wings) representing the soul and immortality
• Together, they evoked themes of sensual pleasure balanced with spiritual elevation
3. Social display: Such elaborate mythological scenes demonstrated the homeowner's cultural sophistication and knowledge of Greek mythology, important for social standing in Pompeii.
4. Religious significance: Beyond mere decoration, these figures had religious associations with Venus/Aphrodite (mother of Cupid/Eros) [and patron goddess of Pompeii] and the mystery cults that were popular in the Roman world.
5. Theatrical quality: The tent-like structures and arrangement into distinct scenes creates a theatrical effect, as if watching multiple acts of a performance - appropriate for a space dedicated to entertainment.

This type of decoration was particularly popular in the Fourth Style of Pompeian wall painting (approximately 62-79 CE), characterized by elaborate architectural frameworks and mythological vignettes.”

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Abduction myths and why they mattered to the Romans

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Today, I came across an 1828 detail drawing by Wilhelm Zahn of Zephyr grasping two erotes under his arms as he descends towards Chloris in a fresco depicting the wedding of Zephyr and Chloris from a triclinium in the House of the Navigli in Pompeii (VI 10,11).

1828 detail drawing by Wilhelm Zahn of Zephyr the gentle west wind, descending to marry the nymph Chloris who would be transformed into Flora, goddess of flowers, in a fresco from the triclinium of the House of the Navigli in Pompeii (VI 10,11)	Detail image of original painting of Zephyr grasping two erotes and descending to marry the nymph Chloris from the triclinium of the House of the Navigli in Pompeii (VI 10,11), now in the National Archeological Museum of Naples courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Stefano Bolognini
Original Fresco of the Wedding of Zephyr and Chloris from the triclinium of the House of the Navigli in Pompeii (VI 10,11) courtesy of Wikimedia Commons contributor Stefano Bolognini.	Full Sketch by Wilhelm Zahn of the fresco depicting the wedding of Zephyr and Chloris from the triclinium of the House of the Navigli in Pompeii (VI 10,11) courtesy of pompeiiinpictures.com

ChatGPT explains, "Zephyr is the Greek god of the west wind, the gentlest of the four directional wind gods known as the Anemoi. He heralds spring and early summer, bringing mild breezes and life-giving rains. Zephyr is often depicted with wings and a serene face, sometimes carrying or surrounded by flowers.

Chloris

Chloris is a minor goddess or nymph associated with flowers, spring, and new growth. Her name means "pale green" or "fresh," reflecting her connection with the season of rebirth and blooming. In Roman mythology, she is known as Flora, and was worshipped as the goddess of flowers.

One of the most vivid and poetic accounts of Zephyr and Chloris comes from Ovid’s Fasti (Book 5, lines 195–214), where Flora (the Roman name for Chloris) tells her own story. Here’s a translated excerpt that captures the essence of the myth:

"I was Chloris, who now am Flora. The Greek letter gave me the name I bear. I was a nymph of the happy fields. The zephyr of spring once caught sight of me, I was walking. He ravished me — it's true — but he made amends by giving me his name and I became his bride.**

I have gardens, the breeze fills them with perfume, and my home is never without spring’s bloom. I scatter new seeds over fruitful fields; all flowers are mine, both those that earth bears and those which spring’s rain feeds."

(trans. adapted from James Frazer and other modern renderings)

This passage is especially notable because it gives Chloris/Flora a voice — a rare moment in mythology where a female figure explains her origin and powers herself. It blends themes of transformation, love, and the natural cycle of seasons."

I was curious why the two erotes Zephyr has grasped under each arm appear to be so unwilling to attend the wedding ceremony.

ChatGPT observed, "1. Symbol of Love Pressured by Force

In Ovid’s version (Fasti 5), Zephyr abducts Chloris — a violent act that is later softened by marriage. The erotes might represent love being coerced or swept along unwillingly in the rush of passion. Their body language—arms back, legs drawn up—suggests reluctance or surprise.

So, the artist might be visually echoing the myth’s theme:

Love and desire (erotes) don’t always arrive gently—they’re sometimes carried by force, like the wind itself.

2. Zephyr’s Impetuous Nature

As the wind, Zephyr moves swiftly and decisively. The grasping of the erotes may suggest that even the forces of love must follow him. He is not waiting for the proper ceremony — he is taking what he wants and dragging love along with him.

3. Humorous or Playful Twist

Pompeian wall art often contained a humorous or ironic undertone, even in mythological depictions. It’s possible this image is playfully portraying Zephyr’s passion as so wild and sudden that the little gods of love themselves are unprepared — a kind of comic exaggeration:

“Even the erotes can’t keep up with this guy!”

4. Visual Balance and Composition

On a purely aesthetic level, the twin erotes under each arm balance the composition, mimicking wings or support. Their forms help to frame Zephyr’s powerful body and emphasize movement. That they appear unwilling may simply give more visual drama and dynamism to the scene."

Then I asked, "Was the rape/abduction of Chloris part of original Greek myth, or did it originate with Ovid?"

ChatGPT replied: "The myth of Zephyrus (the West Wind) and Chloris has its roots in Greek mythology, but the version involving rape or abduction—with erotic or violent undertones—is primarily Roman in its surviving literary form, particularly from Ovid.

Breakdown:

In Greek Myth:

Chloris (Χλωρίς), a nymph associated with flowers and spring, is sparsely mentioned in early Greek sources.

Zephyrus is known as her consort, and their union produces Karpos (meaning “fruit”) in some traditions.

The myth is not well developed in early Greek texts, and there’s no surviving Greek source that explicitly describes a rape or abduction.

In Roman Myth (especially Ovid):

Ovid’s Fasti (Book 5, lines 195–214) gives us the most elaborate and influential version:

Zephyrus sees Chloris, desires her, abducts her, and later marries her, transforming her into Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers.

Here’s a quick paraphrase of Ovid's own words:

“I was Chloris, who now am called Flora… Zephyrus, the spring wind, stole me away... but he made amends by making me his wife and goddess of flowers.”

Ovid frames the event as a divinely sanctioned transformation—a common motif where violence is followed by elevation or deification."

Then I asked, "Do such abduction narratives indicate a certain level of misogyny in Roman gender relations?"

ChatGPT then observed: "Yes, absolutely—they do reflect and reinforce the deeply patriarchal and often misogynistic dynamics of Roman (and earlier Greek) society. These myths weren’t just entertainment; they helped encode social norms and justify behavior, especially around male dominance, female submission, and marriage practices.

Let’s break it down:

Abduction Myths as Reflections of Gender Norms

Marriage by Force as Mythic Trope

Myths like those of Zephyrus and Chloris, Pluto and Persephone, Apollo and Daphne, or even the Sabine women often depict women being seized or pursued by gods or men, and then either transformed or made into wives.

➤ These tales mirror real-world practices: in Roman society, marriage often involved a transfer of the woman from her father’s control to her husband’s, sometimes accompanied by rituals of seizure or veiling that echoed abduction.

Women as Passive Objects of Exchange

Women in these stories are rarely granted full agency. Chloris doesn't get to choose—she is abducted, and then "compensated" by becoming Flora.

➤ This suggests that women’s consent wasn’t central to the ideal of romantic or marital union, at least in how the culture mythologized it.

Eroticization of Violence

Roman art and literature often romanticized coercion, turning abduction and rape into moments of beauty or transformation.

➤ Ovid, especially in the Metamorphoses, presents these moments with poetic elegance, which can mask their brutal implications.

Cultural Messaging

For the elite Roman viewer of the fresco, the story of Zephyrus and Chloris may have functioned as a justification or glamorization of the idea that women could (and should) be won, even violently, if the outcome was socially acceptable—such as marriage or elevation to divine status.

Was it "misogyny"?

If we define misogyny as a system that devalues and controls women, then yes, these myths reflect that. They normalize the use of power over women and encode it into the sacred and the beautiful.

However, it’s important to read them in historical context: they also served as moral allegories, origin myths, and reflections of the anxieties of male authority."

So, these abduction myths harken back to the origin story of Rome and the rape of the Sabine women, then?

ChatGPT said: "Yes, absolutely—they echo it very directly. The rape (i.e., abduction) of the Sabine women is not just a foundational Roman myth; it’s a cultural prototype for how Rome mythologized the use of force in both gender and imperial relations.

Let’s connect the dots:

The Rape of the Sabine Women: Rome’s Mythic Blueprint

In the myth, the early Romans, lacking women, stage a festival and abduct Sabine women from neighboring tribes.

It's called a "rape" in the Latin sense of raptio—meaning abduction, not necessarily sexual assault (though that’s implied too).

Romulus justifies the act as necessary for the survival of Rome. The women, once married and integrated, are portrayed as willing peace-bringers, ultimately begging their Sabine fathers and Roman husbands to reconcile.

Thematic Parallels with Chloris and Zephyrus

In both cases, a woman is taken by force, but the narrative ends with a "reward": elevation to wife, status, or even divinity (Chloris becomes Flora).

This arc—from victim to reconciled spouse or goddess—is used to legitimize male domination and naturalize forced union.

Like the Sabines, Chloris is made complicit in her own abduction by being given a place of honor afterward.

Deeper Implications

These stories aren’t just about individuals—they metaphorically encode Rome’s approach to conquest and assimilation.

Sabine women = neighboring peoples

Chloris = the wild/natural world tamed into civilization

In both cases, force becomes the mechanism of order, and the female figure becomes the symbol of that transition.

Why It Mattered to Romans

These myths helped Romans explain and justify violence, both in gendered and imperial terms. They were didactic: teaching that the ends (marriage, unity, civilization) justify the means (abduction, conquest, coercion). They also offered a fantasy of harmony through submission, which was deeply embedded in Roman ideology."

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The Cypria: a prequel to Homer's Iliad

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025

Today I came across a beautiful detail drawing by Wilhelm Zahn of Achilles on Skyros that was found in the tablinum of the House of the Dioscuri in Pompeii (VI 9,6). The story, well-known to the Romans, is surprisingly not from Homer's Iliad but a prequel to the Iliad known as the Cypria.

Detail drawing by Willhelm Zahn, 1828, of the fresco drawing of Achilles on Skyros found in the tablinum of the House of the Dioscuri in Pompeii

The actual fresco from the tablinum of the House of the Dioscuri now in the collections of the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli (Inv. No. 9110)

According to ChatGPT:

"The Cypria is attributed to Stasinus of Cyprus, though its authorship is uncertain. Some ancient sources, including Herodotus (2.117) and later scholars, mention Stasinus as the poet, but this could be based on oral tradition rather than concrete evidence.

Alternative Theories on the Authorship

Homeric Tradition – Some believed Homer wrote the Cypria but later discarded it in favor of The Iliad. This theory was likely an attempt to connect all the Epic Cycle poems to Homer.

Multiple Authors – Given that the Cypria was part of the larger Epic Cycle and composed in dactylic hexameter, some scholars think it evolved over time, with different poets contributing.

Commissioned Work – An ancient legend claims the Cypria was commissioned by a Cypriot king (possibly in Amathus or Salamis, Cyprus), linking it to Stasinus.

Lost but Influential

Although the poem is lost, fragments and ancient summaries (like those by Proclus) suggest it was a prequel to The Iliad, detailing events from the Judgment of Paris to the Greeks landing at Troy. Many of its themes and characters—such as Helen’s abduction, Achilles’ early life, and Agamemnon’s sacrifice of Iphigenia—were widely used in Roman frescoes and literature."

I was already aware that the myth of Achilles on Skyros where he disguised himself as a woman to avoid his fate in the Trojan War was not from the Iliad. But, I was not aware that the sacrifice of Iphigenia originated elsewhere as well. I asked ChatGPT to describe its origins:

"In The Iliad, when Agamemnon’s quarrel with Achilles is recounted, there is no reference to Iphigenia or a prior act of sacrifice. Instead, Agamemnon’s offenses are focused on his arrogance and the seizure of Briseis, Achilles' war prize.

Similarly, in The Odyssey, when Agamemnon’s fate is discussed, there is no mention of Iphigenia—only his murder at the hands of Aegisthus and Clytemnestra upon returning home.

Where Does the Sacrifice of Iphigenia Come From?

The earliest known source for Iphigenia’s sacrifice is the lost epic Cypria, which predates or is contemporary with Homer. Later Greek playwrights expanded on this story:

Aeschylus (Agamemnon, 458 BCE) – Describes Iphigenia being sacrificed at Aulis and her father’s internal struggle.

Euripides (Iphigenia in Aulis, c. 406 BCE) – Tells the most famous version, where Iphigenia is initially deceived into coming to Aulis for a marriage to Achilles, only to be sacrificed. Some versions suggest she is replaced by a deer at the last moment by Artemis.

Sophocles (The Gathering at Aulis, fragmentary) – Also dealt with the story.

Why Didn’t Homer Mention It?

There are several possible reasons:

Homeric Focus on Immediate War Events – The Iliad begins in the ninth year of the war, and Homer might have deliberately avoided earlier tragic backstories that weren’t central to his theme of wrath (mēnis).

Avoidance of Negative Portrayal of Agamemnon – Homer already portrays Agamemnon as flawed, but killing his own daughter would have made him even less sympathetic.

Oral Tradition Variations – The sacrifice of Iphigenia may not have been universally accepted in early oral traditions that Homer used.

Roman and Later Reception

By the Roman period, the sacrifice of Iphigenia had become a well-known episode, frequently depicted in art and referenced in literature. Virgil (in the Aeneid) alludes to it, and Roman frescoes in Pompeii often show the moment of Iphigenia’s impending death or miraculous rescue."

I was curious why Clytemnestra felt compelled to murder Agamemnon if her daughter had not been sacrificed. DeepSeek explained:

"Clytemnestra’s Motive in the Odyssey – In the Odyssey, Clytemnestra kills Agamemnon primarily because of his betrayal (bringing Cassandra as a concubine) and her affair with Aegisthus. The sacrifice of Iphigenia is not cited as a motive, suggesting that this element of the myth either wasn’t yet established or wasn’t deemed necessary for the story Homer was telling.

Evolution of the Myth – The Iphigenia myth may have evolved later to deepen Agamemnon’s guilt and Clytemnestra’s justification for revenge. Homer’s version of Clytemnestra is more of an adulterous villain, while later tragedians (especially Aeschylus) make her a more complex figure driven by maternal vengeance.

Conclusion:

Homer either did not know the Iphigenia sacrifice story or chose not to include it. The myth as we know it today was refined by later poets and playwrights, filling in gaps and adding psychological depth to the characters."

I thoroughly enjoyed Professor Elizabeth Vandiver's The Great Courses lecture series "The Iliad of Homer" years ago but don't remember her talking about the Cypria and the well-known stories about Achilles, Paris, Helen, and Agamemnon in it.

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Perseus and Medusa: Differences between Greek and Roman traditions

 by Mary Harrsch © 2025  

I found another drawing by Wilhelm Zahn that does not appear on herculaneum.uk. It is a depiction of Perseus about to cut the head off of Medusa while Minerva is poised to assist. It was found in the House of Argus (II.2) in Herculaneum and is dated to 1828, soon after the house was excavated. I found a drawing of the fresco made in 1839 on herculaneum.uk but it is not as high of quality as Zahn's rendition. The original fresco was said to have been removed and sent to the Bourbon museum. However, I could not find it in the Naples Archaeological Museum's fresco catalog or online. Perhaps it did not survive the subsequent transfer to the new museum when it was constructed.

Drawing of a fresco found in the House of Argus in Herculaneum (II.2) depicting Perseus, looking at Medusa's reflection in a shield held by Minerva, as he prepares to cut off the head of Medusa, by Wilhelm Zahn, 1828. 

Here we see Perseus, wearing his winged Phrygian cap, looking at Medusa's reflection in the shield held up by Minerva (Athena) so he could remove her head without turning to stone.

I uploaded the image to ChatGPT and asked about any differences between Greek and Roman depictions of the myth and it said:

"Although the fresco from the House of Argus in Herculaneum is a Roman artwork, it follows the Greek tradition of depicting Athena (Minerva) as an active participant in Perseus' beheading of Medusa. This continuity reflects how Roman art often adapted and preserved Greek mythological themes while sometimes emphasizing certain elements differently.

How the Fresco Aligns with Greek Tradition:

Athena's Presence:

In Greek art, Athena is nearly always present at the beheading, either offering guidance or protection. In your fresco, she is actively involved, reinforcing her role as Perseus' divine helper.

Composition & Action:

Greek vase paintings and reliefs typically show Perseus in the act of striking Medusa while Athena stands nearby.

Your fresco follows this approach but adds a dynamic stance for Athena, making her appear poised to intervene directly.

Narrative Symbolism:

The inclusion of additional figures (like the sleeping shepherd) is a Roman addition that adds a layer of interpretation, possibly symbolizing the indifference of mortals to divine events or the contrast between action and inaction.

However, the core mythological elements remain unchanged from earlier Greek versions.

Roman Influence in the Fresco:

Roman art often made mythological scenes more dramatic and theatrical—this is evident in Athena’s more dynamic pose in the fresco compared to the typically stoic stance seen in Greek vase paintings.

The architectural backdrop is a Roman feature, adding depth and placing the event in a more urbanized or palace-like setting rather than the undefined mythological landscapes of Greek art.

Conclusion:

The fresco is firmly rooted in Greek artistic traditions but Romanized in its composition and added narrative elements. It’s a great example of how Romans preserved and adapted Greek myths for their own artistic and domestic contexts."

I noticed Perseus wears a winged Phrygian cap instead of winged sandals and pointed this out to ChatGPT:

"The winged Phrygian cap that Perseus wears in the fresco is an interesting Roman artistic choice. While not the most common attribute in Greek art, it does appear in some depictions of Perseus, particularly in later Hellenistic and Roman works.

1. Common Greek Attributes of Perseus:

In Greek art, Perseus is usually depicted with:

Winged sandals (Talaria), given by Hermes.

A kibisis (special bag) to hold Medusa’s head.

A Harpe (curved sword), sometimes given by Hermes.

Hades’ helm of invisibility (often implied rather than shown).

However, in earlier Greek vase paintings, Perseus is often shown hatless or wearing a simple traveler's cap (petasos).

2. The Winged Phrygian Cap – Hellenistic & Roman Influence

By the Hellenistic period, some depictions of Perseus begin to show him wearing a winged Phrygian cap instead of the more traditional petasos. This could be due to artistic influence from the East (where Phrygian caps were associated with Persian and Anatolian cultures).

The Roman fresco tradition frequently adopted Hellenistic stylistic elements, which might explain why this choice appears in your fresco from Herculaneum."

I also pointed out that Perseus is using either a short sword or a dagger with a hook and asked about it.

"The strange dagger with a curved hook that Perseus wields in the fresco is likely a representation of the harpe, a special weapon often associated with his myth.

1. The Harpe Sword – Perseus’ Mythological Weapon

The harpe is a curved, sickle-like sword, sometimes with an extra hook or notch near the tip. In mythology, it was either given to Perseus by Hermes or was originally the weapon of Cronus (Kronos), who used it to castrate Uranus. It was designed for swift, precise strikes, which fits with Perseus needing to decapitate Medusa without looking directly at her.

2. Depictions of the Harpe in Greek Art

On Greek vases, Perseus often carries a straight-bladed sword, but in some cases, the harpe is shown with a curved blade.

The Berlin Red-Figure Kylix (ca. 480 BCE) shows Perseus holding a short, curved sword after beheading Medusa.

In later Hellenistic and Roman art, the harpe becomes more exaggerated, sometimes resembling a kopis or falx (both curved, single-edged weapons used in Greece and Thrace).

3. Why Does the Roman Fresco Show a Hooked Blade?

The hooked tip may be a Roman stylistic embellishment, emphasizing the unique and divine nature of Perseus’ weapon.

Romans often depicted mythological weapons in a more ornate, dramatic fashion compared to Greek vase paintings.

It might also reflect real-world curved weapons known in the Roman period, such as the sica (used by Thracians and gladiators)."

I corrected ChatGPT that the blade itself was straight with a hook on the edge. ChatGPT replied:

"A straight blade with a small hook along the edge is unusual but still fits within the broader iconography of Perseus’ weapon in Greek and Roman art. Here’s what this specific design might signify:

1. A Variation of the Harpe Sword

Some versions of the harpe were depicted with a notch or hook near the base or middle of the blade, rather than having a fully curved shape.

This could serve both practical and symbolic purposes:

The notch might be inspired by real-world Greek or Thracian blades (such as the falx or machaira) used to hook and control an enemy's weapon.

In a mythological context, it might be a stylized feature indicating divine craftsmanship—perhaps an artistic way to suggest the weapon was a special gift from the gods.

2. Possible Roman Artistic Influence

The Roman fresco tradition often exaggerated or reinterpreted traditional Greek imagery.

Romans had weapons like the sica, which had an inward curve or hooked edge, used by Thracians and certain gladiators.

The artist of the Herculaneum fresco may have blended Greek myth with Roman visual language, altering the harpe’s shape to something more recognizable or dramatic for Roman audiences.

3. Comparison to Other Depictions

Most Greek vase paintings show Perseus with either:

A straight-bladed xiphos (a Greek short sword).

A fully curved harpe, more like a sickle or scimitar.

A hybrid form (a mostly straight blade with a small hook) is less common but appears in some Hellenistic and Roman adaptations.

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