Review: Roman Portraits: Sculpture in Stone and Bronze by Paul Zanker

A history resource article by Mary Harrsch © 2016

The first comprehensive overview of the Metropolitan Museum of Art 's Roman portrait collection has just been released and I was unexpectedly thrilled to receive a review copy!  Entitled "Roman Portraits: Sculpture in Stone and Bronze", the text is written by Roman classicist Paul Zanker and not only presents an analysis of style, condition, post-ancient modifications and even controversial aspects of each piece but defines the historical and social circumstances surrounding their creation and how these unique contexts influenced their individual qualities.

"The political self-image of individual rulers was all-important to in the creation of emperor's portraits," Zanker explains, "The emperor himself or his advisor dictated to the sculptor who created the prototype how he wished to be seen by his subjects - as detached , close to the people, energetic, or determined and assertive."

But images of emperors and empresses share space with those of less exalted citizens, too, even children as young as a few months old.  The text is also lavishly illustrated and includes beautifully illuminated photographs, often from multiple angles, allowing the reader to examine even minute details of each work.

As I have photographed the ancient collections of museums around the world I have often wondered how different sculptures are attributed to different dynasties when epigraphic evidence is lacking.  By reading the often abbreviated identification information displayed with each portrait I learned that often a piece is said to be Augustan, Flavian, Trajanic or Antonine based on the subject's hairstyle, beard (or lack thereof) or some perceived stylized aspect of the face, the pose, or objects included in the work.  Zanker provides in-depth discussions of these attributes and how comparative analysis with other known works is often vital to making such determinations.

I've always preferred the more realistic portraits of Hellenistic Greeks and Romans to the heavily stylized statues of ancient Egypt. But I learned that even the Romans incorporated certain stylistic aspects to their portraits and, at times, their physical appearance may not have actually resembled the official portraits displayed in public spaces.

Recently, there was a discussion of the new Netflix series "Roman Empire: Reign of Blood" in our Roman History Reading group on Facebook and several people protested the representations of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus as unrealistic because the actors were not sporting luxuriant curly hair and beards as portrayed on the official portrait statues that have come down to us from antiquity.



Zanker explains, "In contrast to Hadrian's elegant self-presentation, the portraits of the Antonine emperors make their subjects seem benevolent but also always remote.  Beginning with the portraits of the emperor Antoninus Pius and continuing with those of Lucius Verus, Marcus Aurelius and his son Commodus, and down to Septimius Severus, all the emperors are depicted with abundant, splendidly curly hair and beards that gradually become ever more luxuriant.  Presumably, these hairdos were meant to recall the great Greeks from the past, but unlike the Greeks, the Romans favored elaborate forms that were artful creations."

Portrait identified as Marcus Aurelius at the
Palazzo Altemps in Rome photographed by
Mary Harrsch © 2009

Zanker says a newly developed technique allowed sculptors to "loosen up the hair in such a way as to produce a lively interplay of light and shadow."  So these fanciful portraits were the result of a combination of a desire to project a particular image and the technology to enhance the effect.

Zanker points out, however, that Marcus Aurelius himself, in his philosophical treatise Meditations, alludes to this public deception.

"...the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius presents some idea of the man behind the portrait, indicating that the official image he chose accorded little with his personal state and how he sought to master his existential problems with the guidance of the Stoic philosopher."

I also learned how some portraits have been recarved in relatively recent times to mask damage or imperfections (to make the pieces more marketable perhaps?).   Aggressive cleaning applied when a sculpture has been retrieved from underwater also removes some distinctive aspects that could be used to date or identify a work.  These modifications are often brought to light through extensive comparisons with other existing portraits of the suspected individual but they can produce confusion about the identity of certain portraits or engender doubts about ancient authenticity altogether. Hopefully, such comparative studies should be facilitated now that more and more collections worldwide are brought online.

Zanker admits, though, that Roman society's practice of emulating the hairstyles of the Imperial family may cause identification problems as well, especially if a portrait represents a child or young adult.  Portraits identified as Augustus' adopted grandson, Gaius Caesar, have been questioned when other portraits representing an individual of similar age with a similar hairstyle have been found in contexts inconsistent with Imperial statuary.

Bronze head recovered in Susa, Italy near the
Arch of Augustus.  Image courtesy of the
Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Apparently, epigraphic evidence found in the same context as a fragmentary statue can be problematic as well.  The Metropolitan Museum's collection includes a bronze head of a man found not far from the Arch of Augustus in Susa (northern Italy at the foot of the Cottian Alps).  Nearby, a fragmentary inscription was found stating that a statue was donated for Agrippa by a member of the Cotti family.  But the portrait does not resemble other portraits identified as Agrippa so scholars are left puzzling whether the statue actually represented Agrippa or one of the Cotti or the inscription fragment was referring to another statue entirely.

Portrait identified as Marcus Vipsania Agrippa
at The Louvre in Paris, France.  Image by
Mary Harrsch  © 2008

Zanker explains, "The head has been associated repeatedly with Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, doubtless owing to the inscription found at the same time.  But it must be noted that no connection can possibly be made with Agrippa's familiar portrait type.  Not only is the stylization of the hair above the forehead completely different, but so are the shape of the head and the facial expression.  The Museum's portrait must therefore represent some other high-ranking Roman who was active in the Alpes Cottiae and to whom the son of the last king, Marcus Julius Cottius, felt indebted.  The latter had been named praefectus civitatium (high magistrate) by the Romans.  However, it is also possible that this is a portrait of Cottius himself, as Federico Barello suspects.  The Celtic prince would thus have presented himself, in the cut and style of his hair, as fully 'Roman'."

A classic portrait of Augustus of the Prima
Porta type.  Image courtesy of Wikimedia
Commons.

Zanker also notes that portraits produced in the provinces by less skilled sculptors frequently deviated from Imperial commissioned originals.  I can't help but wonder, though, if the sculptors were less skilled or if provincial portraits may have been less stylized than those produced in Rome under the nose of the emperor?  I've seen a portrait of Agrippa at The Louvre and I agree that the bronze head found near Susa does not resemble Agrippa at all. But, a case could be made for the identification as Augustus.  Not only was the head found near the Arch of Augustus but it would be more in keeping with Agrippa's reticence to glorify himself to approve a statue of Augustus, his emperor and best friend. However, based on what I have learned in this book I would have to admit the hair style is missing the "tongs" of the classic Prima Porta portrayal of the emperor, the jaw and chin are structurally wider and the mouth is distinctly more pronounced and downturned at the corners. Furthermore, the expression is more severe than other portraits of Augustus I have seen, too, where the emperor appears more "ethereal" and aloof from daily cares. There are certainly other portrait heads identified as Augustus, though, that resemble him less than this bronze head.  In fact, there are several included in the book identified as Augustus that gave me pause.  You can easily see how challenging such identification can be!

As you can probably tell by now, I found this text to be a fascinating read and welcome it as an invaluable reference work that I will use in the future to enrich my understanding of other Roman portraits I encounter in my travels!

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A God From Dresden

I found the following article very interesting. Having photographed hundreds of statues in some of the world's finest museums, including the Getty Villa, I often marvel at the subtle clues scholars use to identify art that is often unearthed in fragments with no inscriptions to provide a hint of identify. Often it is the hairstyle, fashion or degree of sensuousness and comparisons to existing identified statues from the time period (if period can be ascertained) that often determine the description presented to the public.

In this case, a headless statue from a Dresden museum collection, is being studied by modern conservators at the Getty to see if some agreement can be reached as to how to present this work of art. I found it amusing that conservators across the centuries have identified it as Alexander the Great (adding suitable accessories), Antinous and, ultimately, Bacchus at different points in time. At a Getty colloquium in August, attendees generally expressed their leanings toward Bacchus, but the Getty has decided to make the conservation of the statue (to be exhibited headless), rather than a predetermined identity, the focus for its upcoming premiere at the Getty in December.

"On a recent sunny Saturday, while most Southern Californians were deployed somewhere enjoying a weekend hiatus, 20 art historians, conservators and museum officials shifted in their chairs around a long, U-shaped table in an air-conditioned conference room at the Getty Villa in Malibu, theorizing, listening and pondering out loud whose head to put on a headless 1,800-year-old Roman statue.

The result of their scholarly exchanges and deliberations would determine whether the future identity of the monumental white marble semi-nude, 2nd century male being reassembled in the Getty's workshop would be the Roman god Bacchus or the real-life boy lover of the Emperor Hadrian, known as Antinuous, or the Greek conqueror Alexander the Great.

Imagine such a group in future millenniums trying to decide whether a headless torso dating from 20th century America was originally a likeness of Elvis Presley, Truman Capote or Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Such challenges have faced collectors and curators of classical antiquity since Roman statuary began being unearthed by archaeologists in the 17th century, often missing heads and limbs and conclusive identities. The decisions made by museums through the years regarding how best to present and display these precious remains of the Greek and Roman past have reflected changing attitudes toward conservation and its purposes, aligned with improved methods and techniques.

The Saturday workshop convened by the Getty's Antiquities Conservation Department offered a case study in the current state of the rarefied craft. It wasn't until the mid-20th century that conservation became a profession and the custom of restoring damaged statues by whatever means was supplanted by the desire to display them closer to the state in which they were found.

"How comfortable are we, after all these restorations, to show a statue without a head?" Jens Daehner, the German-born assistant curator of antiquities at the Getty, asked during his own formal remarks that reviewed the statue's various incarnations since its first known display in Rome in 1704, when it carried an ancient female head (not original to it), probably a likeness of Athena but restored with a helmet so as to match an image of Alexander the Great seen on Greek coins. Though this sounds contrived by today's standards of archaeology, during the Baroque era a preference for complete sculptures allowed and encouraged such improvisation.

After the statue was removed from Italy in 1733 by a Saxon prince and brought to Dresden, it was modified again to include a fig leaf and a spear, still identified as Alexander. Then in 1804, according to a contemporary catalog of the museum's collection, it became Bacchus (Dionysus to the Greeks), a result of prevailing notions about its body type and drapery style, but retained the previous head and helmet associated with Alexander -- while losing the earlier restored right arm along with the fig leaf and spear.

Changing parts

WHAT Podany referred to as "the unrecognized power of the restorer" was demonstrated when, during the tenure of the sculptor Emil Cauer the Elder as a restorer in the Dresden antiquities collection, the statue became "Antinuous in the guise of Bacchus," with a new head made of plaster and a new plaster right arm attached.

Then, in 1894, a new director of the museum replaced Cauer's Antinuous head with a plaster cast of another Antinuous on display in the British Museum. The right arm was again removed, and this was the state of the statue when it was placed in storage during the Dresden museum's closure due to World War II. It was not damaged during the bombing of Dresden but in June 1945 was shipped to Moscow along with the rest of the collection, regarded as the spoils of war.

By the time it was returned to Dresden by train in 1958, the statue had suffered extensive damage in transit and had broken into 158 pieces. It remained out of sight, stored in four wooden crates until those crates were air-freighted to the Getty in November.

In his remarks, Daehner mentioned the "high, wide chest" to be a signifier of Antinuous, yet the absence of long hair on the shoulders pointed again to the god of wine. "I am convinced we are dealing with a statue of Dionysus," the curator said. He also noted that a piece of paper plugged into a plastered hole turned out to be a page from a book published in 1894, but this detail did not aid the investigation.

After Marc Walton, a scientist at the Getty Conservation Institute, showed a microscopic slide of the statue's Carrara marble exterior that looked like the surface of the moon and revealed "multiple plasters, referring to different campaigns of restoration," the group adjourned to the studio to see the statue itself, headless but otherwise impressive. It rose somewhat larger than life (6 feet, 8 inches) from a wood pallet, its white torso supported temporarily by a heavy chain hoist. Seeing the statue reassembled for the first time in their lifetimes, the scholars and conservators circled it and examined the details of its drapery; the pitch, or attitude, of its interface with the platform; the fissures and lines revealing where the fragments had been attached." - More

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Brightly Painted Ancient Sculpture Featured at Getty Villa

A polychromy restoration of the Roman emperor
Augustus in his Prima Porta pose.  Image courtesy of
The Digital Sculpture Project.

I particularly enjoyed reading about this upcoming exhibit at the Getty Villa and looking at the picture of a brightly colored Augustus in his Prima Porta pose in preparation for my visit there in two weeks.

"For nearly two centuries, some scholars have been arguing that white-on-white and green-on-green were not the true tints of antiquity. The Parthenon in Athens and the Forum in Rome might have been almost gaudy. But such ideas have never trickled down, or even sideways: In Hollywood today, but also in many experts’ talk, the ancient world comes off as monochrome. In Ridley Scott’s Gladiator, when Russell Crowe strides down the streets of ancient Rome, circa A.D. 180, he’s backed up by the proper complement of bronzes and marbles. All of them are green or white.

But, a flood of recent exhibitions has set out to put their color back. Over the past five years, audiences in Amsterdam, Athens, Basel, Boston, Copenhagen, Istanbul, Munich, and Rome have been treated to a bright new image of Greek and Roman art.

One of the greatest statues of Augustus, first emperor of Rome, has come down to us in marble. His carved armor and rippling robe meld into the symphony of cream on cream we all expect. At the Getty Villa in Malibu, Calif., a reconstruction of the piece, retouched with colors based on tints that still cling here and there to the original, has the great Augustus togaed in a cherry red that matches his lips. His tunic’s touched with blue. What he’s lost in elegance he’s regained in verve.

The head of the Roman emperor known as Caligula
 colored as it would have been in antiquity  Image
courtesy of The Digital Sculpture Project.

A carved portrait of Caligula, the mad Roman emperor who died in the year 41, looks blank-eyed and remote in the marble that’s survived. His reconstruction, computer-carved into another block of marble and then painted, now has nice pink cheeks, red lips and brown eyes and hair. The insane leader who declared himself a god now comes across as the Roman next door.


“Oh Praxiteles, which are your greatest marbles?” a fan once asked that famous sculptor, who pioneered the art of female nudes in Athens around 350 B.C. The artist — or so the story went in ancient times — answered that he preferred those works whose stone had been colored over by Nicias, a leader in the art of realistic panel painting. So much for the ancients’ taste for sculpture’s white perfection.

“For the Greeks, it was all about mimesis,” says Getty curator Kenneth Lapatin, using the Greek word for realistic imitation. Beauty depended on it.

“If only I could shed my beauty and assume an uglier aspect / The way you would wipe color off a statue,” says Helen of Troy, in lines written by Euripides in 412 B.C. For Greeks of that era, not only were sculptures assumed to be painted but also if you stripped their paint you stripped their good looks, too." 

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