Identifying Ancient Art - A game of smoke and mirrors?

History resource article by Mary Harrsch © 2012

Today, I watched a fascinating lecture "Mistaken Identities: How to identify a Roman emperor" by Mary Beard recently delivered at Stanford University.  As a "fan" of Julius Caesar, I thought her critique of a number of heads identified as Caesar over the years was very enlightening.

I also found her overall discussion of the rather tenuous nature of sculpture identification particularly interesting because lately, I have been re-editing a number of images I shot of Roman sculpture at the Capitoline and National Museums in Rome back in 2005.  I had just started my crusade to photograph historical art and make my images freely available to teachers, researchers and students and had not yet developed my current practice of photographing the identification placards in a sequence with the sculpture to enable me to properly identify the artwork once I returned home to my office.  So, on that first trip to Rome, I ended up with dozens of photographs that all I could say for sure were portraits of Roman men or women until I had a chance to research them further to label them properly.

With the internet and our current technology, I naively believed that proper identification would be a relatively straightforward process.  I have since learned that not only is it not straightforward, even what is thought to be accurate identification at the time changes as different scholars apply different interpretations or museums reliant on governmental support become subject to various political agendas seeking some kind of historical confirmation through a culture's art legacy.

It gets even more confusing when identification displayed at a museum differs from the museum's own collections catalog. I recently received a request from a publisher in Denmark for an image I took back in 2007 of a fresco at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples that, at the time, was labeled "Cleopatra greets the god of the Underworld'.  But, when I looked the image up in the collections book that I purchased at the museum, I noticed that it said it was Io being welcomed upon her arrival to Egypt by the goddess Isis to her sanctuary of Canopos.  The fresco was unearthed in 1764 in the Temple of Isis in Pompeii in a room dubbed the Ekklesiasterion.

The satyr-looking creature bearing up Io looks like it could be Hades but the catalog says it is a river god.  Io is identified by the vestiges of horns she still retains from her time as a heifer.  Isis appears to be dressed in the Greek fashion and holds a cobra coiled around her arm.  The catalog tells us that the painting originated from the court of the Ptolemies in Alexandria "in order to legitimize their dynasty by rooting it in ancient Heraclean and Argive origins which embraced the dual ethnic components of the new kingdom, the Egyptian and the Macedonian".  The fresco is thus dated to the the early Ptolemaic dynasty after a 3rd century BCE prototype .  This all sounds quite carefully researched and definitive.  However, there is no mention of technical dating examinations so I must assume this is educated conjecture.  The only thing that nags at me is the prominent display of the cobra and the knowledge that the fresco was apparently once thought to represent Cleopatra VII in the role of Isis.

In the historical record, Cleopatra VII represented herself as the living embodiment of Isis and the cobra was known to be not only a sacred creature but a pharaonic symbol.  When I check the "king's list" of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, I find a few females mentioned as co-rulers, usually regents for under-age male inheritors, beginning with Cleopatra II Philometora Soteira in 131 BCE, but you really don't find a woman ruling with the trappings of pharaoh until you reach Cleopatra VII in 51 BCE.  So the possibility that Cleopatra VII as Isis is the welcoming figure in the fresco cannot be totally dismissed.  I also can't help but think the widespread publicity surrounding Cleopatra and her death by the bite of a cobra in the 1st century BCE could easily have influenced a Roman artist charged with decorating the walls of a temple to Isis in Pompeii during that period.

Another confusing identification I encountered recently was a picture of a sculpture said to be Apollo of the Anzio type at the Capitoline Museum:

Call me crazy but it looks like remnants of grapes and grape leaves in the hair which would make me think it was Dionysos.  Many sculptures of Apollo also have an iconic knot in the hair on top of the head so I am baffled by the identification associated with this piece.

Reviewing my images from the Hall of Emperors in the Capitoline Museum, I came across the following bust:

After reviewing hundreds of images of Roman emperors (or said to be Roman emperors), I cannot find a single one that looks like him.  He appears to be wearing a laurel crown and in 2005 was positioned close to the busts of  Vespasian, Domitian and Titus (based on the photo time stamp).  This would make me think he may have been one of the emperors in the Year of the Four Emperors after the assassination of Nero but I checked images of Otho, Galba and Vitellius and he doesn't resemble any images identified as them.  Although I thought the museum positioned busts in relationship to the sequence of their reigns, this may not be the case either.  So, I would appreciate any information anyone could offer that would help identify this Roman.  

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Polynomial Texture Mapping Continues on Herculaneum Amazon

I first read about polynomial texture mapping (PTM) a year or so ago in an article about its use in the study of potsherds. I'm pleased to see that it is now being used to study surface detail of recovered sculptures. I like the way you can move the light source around with a PTM file (via javascript) to reveal a different aspect of three dimensional objects. I often photograph artifacts in museum settings and have found that available light imagery (flash is usually forbidden in museum settings) seems much more dramatic and insightful than artificially lighted studies of an object. A PTM file enables you to not only study the surface details, like the beautifully painted eyes in this sculpture of an Amazon warrior recovered from Herculaneum, but lets you view the art from various perspectives as it would have been viewed in its ancient context illuminated with only natural light sources. If the position of the recovered sculpture is recorded you can even duplicate the direction of lighting at various times of the day and truly experience the art as it was by ancient peoples.

Cutting-edge imaging techniques are being used in the digital restoration of a 2000-year old Roman statue.

The delicately painted statue, which was discovered in the ancient ruins of Herculaneum in 2006 and believed to depict an Amazon Warrior, is now the subject of a joint restoration project by the University of Southampton, the University of Warwick, and the Herculaneum Conservation Project.

Highly sophisticated digital imaging is vital for the recording, subsequent analysis and restoration of cultural heritage material. Experts in archaeological computing led by Dr Graeme Earl of the Archaeological Computing Research Group in the School of Humanities, used a novel form of photography – Polynomial Texture Mapping (PTM), developed by HP Labs - to provide a detailed record of the texture and colour of the painted surfaces.

A specially-designed rig, camera structure, and associated custom software was developed in the School of Electronics and Computer Science by Dr Kirk Martinez and the team in the Mechanical Workshop to enable very fast acquisition of PTM data, with variable sample sizes. The rig uses a lightweight tripod running on battery power, making it adaptable enough to use on archaeological sites. The whole kit is highly portable and can be carried in a suitcase. 'It was fascinating to pull together various elements from my imaging research projects in order to solve all the issues for the new rig design,' said Kirk Martinez.

The head of the Amazon Warrior was discovered in 2006 in the ancient ruins of Herculaneum, a town close to Pompeii, which was buried in the AD79 eruption of Mount Vesuvius. The delicate painting of the statue’s features and its fine state of preservation meant that it was regarded as a landmark discovery by archaeologists, providing clues to the decoration of Roman statues that had previously been only guessed at. - More: University of South Hampton

The PTM viewer enables a virtual light source to be moved across the virtual scene. The viewer can also vary lighting intensity, add additional virtual lights, derive surface models and to carry out image processing tasks such as edge detection. Try it out for yourself!

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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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Historical artists capture Roman Mosaics in vivid color drawing

As I have mentioned before, ancient mosaics are among my favorite art forms. To bring out the vibrant original color I always turn up the contrast in Photoshop whenever I process an images of a mosaic I have photographed. David Neal has a different approach:

"Roman mosaics are perhaps the most spectacular Roman remains in Britain. Many of the finest come from Roman villas, where they reflect the high artistic tastes of the wealthy villa owners in the fourth century. Most are in colour, and many are figured, almost always with classical scenes.

David Neal has been painting mosaics for many years in his capacity of chief illustrator of English Heritage, but following his retirement, he joined with Steve Cosh to produce a corpus in four volumes of all the known mosaics in the country. Between them they set out to paint them all by hand: many of them are only known from oblique black-and-white photos, but by drawing them, and restoring the original colours where these are known, it is possible to show just what they originally looked like.

They hope to publish them in four volumes - providing they can find a suitable publisher."

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