university of copenhagen
Portraits and Colour-codes in ancient Rome: The Polychromy of white marble Portraits
Skovmøller, Amalie
Publication date:
2016
Citation for published version (APA):
Skovmøller, A. (2016). Portraits and Colour-codes in ancient Rome: The Polychromy of white marble Portraits.
Københavns Universitet, Det Humanistiske Fakultet.
Download date: 16. Jun. 2017
UNIVERSITY OF COPENHAGEN
FACULTY OF HUMANITIES
Portraits and Colour-codes in ancient
Rome: The Polychromy of white marble
Portraits
Amalie Skovmøller
[Titel på afhandling]
[Undertitel på afhandling]
Academic advisors: Jane Fejfer and Jan Stubbe Østergaard
Handed in: 2.11.2015
1
TABLE OF CONTENT
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
5
6
INTRODUCTION
8
1: Colour theory, the science of colour and appreciating colour on sculpture
2: Aims and focusses
3: Terminology
10
16
20
A: Theoretical approaches
A1: Colour-coding and colour-codes
A2: Semiotic, supra-semiotic and post-semiotic
A3: Materiality, material properties and material culture
A4: Agencies
A5: The extended Roman mind
A6: Abduction of Agency
A7: Uncanny Valley
25
26
27
29
32
34
36
37
B: Methodologies: combining multiple sources
B1: Archaeological methodology
B2: Natural sciences
B3: Written sources
39
39
40
41
SECTION A: PRODUCING ROMAN POLYCHROME PORTRAITURE
43
Chapter 1: Roman portraits. White marble and their colour effects
A1.1: White marble
A1.2: Sculpting marble sculptures
A1.3: Ancient pigments and dyes
A1.4: Binding media
A1.5: Applying the paint. Paint mixtures and layering techniques
46
46
50
54
69
73
Chapter 2: Other materials used for polychrome portraiture
A2.1: Metals
A2.2: Coloured stones
A2.3: Limestone
A2.4: Terracotta
A2.5: Wood
A2.6: Wax
78
78
81
90
92
93
94
2
Chapter 3: The materiality of Roman polychrome portraiture
A3.1: A cultural revolution of sculptural materials and the question of material
appropriation
A3.2: The material culture of Roman polychrome portraiture
98
SECTION B: PRESENTATION OF THE PORTRAIT SCULPTURES
117
Chapter 4: Case Study 1. The portraits from the Room of Fundilia
B4.1: The Diana Nemorensis sanctuary
B4.2: The portrait sculptures
B4.3: Reconstructing the original polyhcromy of the portraits from the Room of
Fundilia
119
120
123
Chapter 5: Case Study 2. The high-gloss polished portraits
B5.1: Case Study 2a
B5.2: Case Study 2b
B5.3: Case Study 2c
B5.4: Reconstructing the original polychromy of the high-gloss polished portraits
149
150
153
154
155
Chapter 6: The materiality of polychrome white marble portraiture
B6.1: Material agencies
B6.2: Maintenance
B6.3: Artistic agency
162
163
171
174
SECTION C: COLOUR-CODING AND EXPERIENCING POLYCHROME MARBLE
PORTRAITURE
118
100
107
132
Chapter 7: The semiotic, supra-semiotic and post-semiotic purposes of the painted
portraits
C7.1: Colour-coding identities within the Room of Fundilia
C7.2: Colour-coding sculptural representations of real life garments: the toga of
Fundilius
C7.3: The agency of the sitter: balancing between individual likeness and generic
representation
182
Chapter 8: Experiencing polychrome portraiture
C8.1: The mimetic effect of painted marble portraits
C8.2: What did the painted marble portraits want?
213
214
222
Chapter 9: Summing up. The materiality of colour
C9.1: Van Gogh’s painted flowers: colours defined by their contemporary context
C9.2: Deciphering Roman colour-codes
C9.3: ‘The humility of colours’: colours as social agents
229
229
233
237
182
194
205
3
CONCLUSIONS
241
Abstract
Resume
Bibliography
243
244
245
4
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This dissertation is the results from the collaboration between the University of Copenhagen and the
Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (NCG). It was made possible by the generous grants from the Ny Carlsberg
Foundation and the Augustinus foundation.
First and foremost I thank my academic advisors Jane Fejfer (associate professor, classical
archaeology) and Jan Stubbe Østergaard (research curator, NCG): without them this dissertation
would not have realized. I am grateful for their invaluable support and insightful guidance
throughout the entire process of writing the dissertation at hand.
I am privileged to have been affiliated with both the University of Copenhagen and the NCG. I have
greatly enjoyed the expertise housed at both institutions and their inspirational environments. I am
particularly grateful for having had the opportunity to become involved with the Copenhagen
Polychromy Network and the international Round Table conference held once a year. I am
especially indebted to conservators Maria Louise Sargent and Rikke Hoberg Therkildsen for the
many hours they spent on examining the Roman marble portraits and on discussing the results with
me. Also, a special thank goes to Flemming Friborg, director at the NCG, for taking his time to
evaluate on some of the philosophical issues related to my work.
Exploring paint on marble portraits requires knowledge on what marble and paint is. I am therefore
grateful for having had the opportunity to benefit from the expertise knowledge of Mikkel Scharff
and Jørn Bredahl-Jørgensen, associate professors at the School of Conservation in Copenhagen. A
thank also goes to Lars Henningsen and Mette Moltesen, former head of conservation and museum
curator at the NCG, for sharing their many years of experience with the collections at the NCG with
me. Furthermore, I warm thank is due to painter Per Kapper and sculptor Matthew Simmons for the
fruitful and inspirational collaboration on the project of making the physical reconstruction of one
of the portraits.
I would also like to thank the University of Nottingham for accepting me as visiting scholar. I
particularly thank associate professor Katharina Lorenz for arranging my stay and taking good care
of me.
Finally I am full-heartedly indebted to my family, friends and co-workers who have encouraged me
throughout the entire process. I am especially indebted to Lars Hummelshøj for his gentle support
and for expertise assistance in making the Photoshop reconstructions of the portraits. Without his
patience, love and support I would not have been able to complete my work.
5
Dedicated to my father,
Christian Henrik Skovmøller, 17.11.1952-20.11.2012.
6
ABBREVIATIONS
Latin and Greek texts are cited according to the guidelines for abbreviations listed in the Oxford
Classical Dictionay (4th Edition).
The Bibliography is listed according to the guidelines provided by the Oxford Classical Dictionary
(4th Edition). Abbreviations of journals are following the guidelines for American Journal of
Archaeology (http://www.ajaonline.org/submissions/journals-series) when possible. For the
journals of natural sciences abbreviations follows the ISI Journal Title Abbreviations
(http://www.efm.leeds.ac.uk/~mark/ISIabbr/A_abrvjt.html).
7
INTRODUCTION
Roman sculptures in white marble were once more or less fully polychrome, but most evidence that
might testify to this has vanished over the years, either due to gradual deterioration or systematic
modern cleaning and restoration. The polychromy of the white marble portraits was made from
many different, externally created and applied colour effects, including inlaid eyes, metal
attachments and attributes, gilding and painterly effects; and it is the combination of these elements,
with particular emphasis on the painterly effects, that concerns this dissertation.
Increased awareness over the last 15 years of the fact that white marbles were originally painted
confronts established scholarly research traditions with theoretical and methodological obstacles.
These obstacles consist in implementing the radically transformative new information into studies
of the well-known – sometimes familiar – pieces of material culture. The fact that most marble
works were once painted has always been lurking at the corners of art historical and archaeological
scholarly research, yet this fact has never been fully incorporated into scholarly practice.
Throughout the twentieth century, little attention was paid to the original colours of marble
sculptures, with one major exception being Patrik Reuterswärd’s 1960 monograph Studien zur
Polychromie der Plastik.1
When a statue of Augustus was discovered in 1863 in Prima Porta, just outside Rome, it revealed
extensive remains from its once painted colours (fig. 0:1 and 0:2). The statue of Augustus from
Prima Porta continued to display extensive colour remains (although most of them have faded
away), but general scholarly interest has gravitated towards its context, its iconography, its style of
hair and its Greek assimilations. Compared to the comprehensive attention paid to this single
portrait statue, minimal focus has been paid to its original polychromy since it was first discovered;
that is, until now.
In the early 21st century, the sculpture was restored in the Vatican Museum, and at the same time
systematic examinations of the remaining paint were conducted.2 Results showed that the statue was
originally painted with various pigments, including madder lake, ochre of red, brown and yellow
hues, carbon black and, perhaps, also cinnabar in combination with the madder lake.3 Later,
following the invention of VIL imaging, Egyptian blue was added to the knowledge base
concerning the statue’s original colouration (fig. 0:3). With aid from modern technology, the
1
Reuterswärd 1960; Østergaard 2004A, 11-13; Østergaard 2004B, 32-33; Brinkmann 2014, 35-36.
Liverani 2003, 188.
3
Spada 2003, 196; Liverani 2003; Liverani 2004; Satamaria, Morresi, Agresti and Pelosi 2014.
2
8
pigments embedded in the marble surface of the statue have been located and identified (some of
them not even traceable with the naked eye), and the remains experimentally reconstructed on a
plaster cast of the original (fig. 0:4).4
Together with the portrait of Caligula in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (NCG) (fig. 0:5)5, the statue of
Augustus from Prima Porta was the first examinations of a Roman marble portrait once having had
more or less fully covering paint applications. Since then, more pieces have joined, and knowledge
on how and why the marble portraits were once painted is steadily growing. This dissertation will
contribute to this growing scholarly field by being the first thorough examination of the original
paint on Roman white marble portraits. The dissertation will explore the results from the portraits
(using a selection of Roman ideal sculptures as comparative material) examined to this date and add
new results from examinations of 15 additional portraits. By doing so, the dissertation will seek to
establish a proper theoretical and methodological approach to explore the purposes of colours on
Roman marble portraits, which have – so far – remained poorly understood.
Although knowledge in this field is growing, more data is needed. Examinations are time
consuming and dependent on funding, and publications on the accumulated results are inadequate
(but aided by the open source data available on the internet). This dissertation aspires to securely
ground the research in the original polychromy of Roman marble portraiture and contribute to
securing its future in academia as an established branch of research. All the results presented
throughout the following chapters and all preliminary conclusions will hopefully be debated and
tested in the future. Not being content with allowing the erstwhile visual appearances of the
archaeological material to remain aspects lurking in the corners of scholarly interest, the goal of this
dissertation is to incorporate the results from scientific examinations and experimental
reconstructions. Through this effort, the dissertation seeks to elevate polychromy from being a mere
colourful supplement to traditional scholarship to being an integral and imperative aspect of
understanding how the marble portraits were once produced and experienced by the Romans
themselves.
4
Spada 2003.
Østergaard 2004C; Brinkmann, Kellner, Koch-Brinkmann and Østergaard 2009. See also:
http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/146.
5
9
1: Colour theory, the science of colour and appreciating colour on sculpture
Exploring the uses of colours on Roman portraiture calls for an explanation of what colour is.
Explaining and defining colour is, however, a troublesome task. Defining colour does not just
revolve around how colours are applied and experienced but also used rhetorically.6 For example,
the term ‘red’ does not just refer to one colour: it is a term, which covers a large spectrum of colours
ranging in nuances, changing according to contexts, observers and light sources.7 Furthermore,
experiencing colours is ‘(…) much more than just light waves hitting the retina.’8 Colour is also a
social and cultural phenomenon, and as such it is negotiable and changeable.
Colour theory and the science of colour
In the following section I will shortly introduce two important branches of studies in colour: 1)
colour theory; how human beings understand and categorize colours, and 2) the science of colour
perception; that is, how human beings perceive and are affected by colour.
1) Colour theory is the study of colour as a physical entity, which can be measured and categorized.
In order to understand how colours affect us (the science of colours), one must first understand the
properties of colours. The properties of colours are normally divided into hue (‘red’), saturation (the
purity of the hue; the amount of grey the colour is perceived to contain), tone (‘dark/pale/light’ red),
and brightness (the relative brightness of a colour), which will be explained in more detail below.9
By balancing these four properties, colours can – to an extent – be measured and categorized. This
research is, however, not without problems, as will be discussed below, and reflects a deeper,
underlying, persistent human interest in exploring and defining the physical nature of colour.10
Human beings have theorized about the nature of colour since at least antiquity (this is when the
literary evidence for colour theory originates).11 Aristotle asserted that all colours derived from
6
Bradley 2009B; Biggam 2012.
Hanson 2012, 21.
8
Bradley 2013, 129.
9
This dissertation defines the properties of colour by following the vocabulary of Biggam. Biggam 2012, 1-8. I shall
return to this again below.
10
Batchelor, in particular, notes this persistent human need for defining colour: ‘Colour, then, must be controlled. It
must be ordered and classified; a hierarchy must be established.’ Batchelor 2002, 48-49.
11
Gage 1993, 153; James 1996, 13-17; Osborne 2012, 309-335.
7
10
ratios of mixtures of black and white.12 In the post-medieval period, Leon Battista Alberti (14041472) stated that all colours derived from four named colours: red, blue, green and grey.13
But it was not until the 17th century that colour theory developed into the understanding of colour as
a physical phenomenon. Isaac Newton (1642-1727) was one of the first to discover the importance
of light in human perception of colours by building the first reflecting telescope, proving that light
made colour visible to the human eye.14 By doing so, Newton proved that colour was, in fact, a
biological ‘substance’, formed by radiant energy consisting of electromagnetic waves, with a mass
that could be measured.15 This study of colours has progressed ever since, in particular aided by the
development of technological methodologies, including infrared light and ultraviolet fluorescence. 16
Newton arranged the colours according to how they physically responded to light in a so-called
colour-wheel which consisted of seven named colours: blue, indigo, violet, red, orange, yellow and
green (fig. 0:6).17 In the early 19th century, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), also
researching a permanent, physical basis of colour, further developed Newton’s colour theory by rearranging the colours and narrowing down the group of named colours to being the primary colours:
red, green, and blue, from which all other colours (subdivided into secondary and the tertiary
groups) are derived.18
Today researchers are still working on naming and categorizing all known colours according to their
four main properties: hue, saturation, tone and brightness (also known as colourimetry).19 The
12
Osborne 2012, 309.
Osborne 2012, 309.
14
Newton’s Optiks from 1704 was one of the first major publications on colour theory. Birren 1961, 70; Riley 1995, 3;
James 1996, 14; Bamfield and Hutchings 2010, 1-7; Hanson 2012, 5-6.
15
Birren 1961, 69-70; Jensen 2012, 1-17; Hanson 2012, 5-20; Barbur and Rodriguez-Carmone 2012, 24-82; Setchell
2012, 229-235.
16
Birren 1961, 61-80; Goodman 2012, 177-217. For a detailed account on infrared and ultraviolet photo analysis, see
chapter 1 and Appendix1.
17
Gage 1993, 162; Hanson 2012, 8.
18
Goethe published his theories on colours in his monograph Farbenlehre (Theory of Colours) in 1810. Gage 1993,
162: Riley 1995, 21-23.
19
Colours are measured as an interaction between a source of light, a colour test and an observer. In order to measure
colours as objectively as possible, the Commission Internationale de l’Eclairage (CIE) has established several standard
light sources, a standard observer and some standard measure units. The CIE system allows scholars to measure colours
according to hue, saturation, tone and brightness. The CIE system provides a physical description of colours, and does
therefore not apply when colours are to be compared to each other. Several other colour systems have therefore been
invented in order to describe the colours and relate them to one another. Jensen 2012, 28-64; Hanson 2012, 7, 20-23,
tab.1; Goodman 2012, 177-217.
Colour naming has been much studied and much debated over the last 50 years. Berlin and Kay claimed that all human
beings are ‘hardwired’ to recognize certain perceptually shared colours, which are present in colour vocabularies
crossing cultures around the world. Berlin and Kay 1969; Biggam 2012, 20. This has, however, been a subject for
debate amongst scholars; in particular how such colour perceptions can be traced, identified and classified. See Dedrick
1996 and 2005; Biggam 2012, 21-43.
13
11
standardization systems are numerous, and the absence of a generally acknowledged, uniform
categorization system testifies to colour’s inability to conform to categorical thought.20 Although
the multidisciplinary work with categorizing colours proves that they are scientifically attestable,
they largely remain a part of the human subjective sense.21
2) Science of colour: It is commonly accepted by scholars in the fields of psychiatry and
psychology that colour has an effect upon the human body; physically and, in particular,
psychologically. Human beings are influenced by light (the sun provides us with vitamin D, the skin
reacts to ultraviolet and infrared radiation, and so on),22 and as a phenomenon existing through
light, colours also affect the human mind.23
Until the 1970s, it was widely believed that human colour perception was mainly subjective, and
that scientists therefore gained little by studying it systematically.24 Since then studies into colour
perception and the subconscious effect colour has on human beings have increased dramatically. 25
But there is still much to learn about human responses to colour; and knowledge on its evolutionary
and cultural development is still much debated.26
Human reactions to certain colour properties (as defined by the above-mentioned colourstandardisation systems) have been the subject of much research.27 Studies show that when a large
group of people is asked to choose a colour, most will choose either red or blue – regardless of
gender and age.28 Although the order of colour-preferences, placing red and blue as the two most
commonly preferred colours, has remained largely the same over the last sixty years, research
shows that such preferences have also changed during certain periods.29 The small shifts in the
Riley 1995, 1, 7-11; Hanson 2012, 3-4.
Hanson 2012, 3-23.
22
Research in how light affects the mood has been conducted in Scandinavia and Arabia and Argentina. Results show,
that the northern countries show a higher percentage of people with symptoms of a seasonal defective disorder, known
as SAD, during the winter. This disorder is also known as winter depression, and can be cured if the patient is exposed
to sunlight regularly. See Mikellides 2012, 106-107.
23
Birren 1961, 140-161; Hanson 2012, 4; Mikellides 2012, 105-128; Hulbert and Ling 2012, 129-157.
24
Wright 2012, 173. In the research field of colour semantics, Berlin and Kay revolutionized the methodological and
theoretical approaches to systematically studying colour naming in 1969, by proposing that colour naming was not all
relative but also –to some extent- universal; and therefore could be studied as such. See Berlin and Kay 1969; Biggam
2012, 19-20, 71-81; note 30 above.
25
In general, see Best (ed.) 2012.
26
Berlin and Kay 1969; Hanson 2012, 3-4; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 134-146; Bradley 2013, 128-130.
27
Hanson 2012, 1-23; Mikellides 2012, 105-128.
28
In 1941 Hans Eysenck published the first major research results on the average ranking of colour preferences. The
order of preferences (based on asking 21.060 subjects) were: 1: blue, 2: red, 3: green, 4: violet, 5: orange, 6: yellow.
Research since then has shown that the order of colour preferences has remained largely the same since Eysenck’s
publication. See: Mikellides 2012, 109; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 137-142.
29
Mikellides 2012, 110-111.
20
21
12
popularity of colours could be explained as fashionable, political or symbolic: e.g. the all time least
favourite colour, orange, was one of the most popular colours during the 1970s.30 Furthermore,
research shows that colours are also evaluated differently according to context; the most preferred
colours on small-scale samples, such as an orange dress, are not necessarily the most preferred
colours for larger scales, such as a building.31
Studies in colour preferences reveal that colours have an instinctively subconscious psychological
effect on human beings, reaching beyond the verbally recognisable (stereotypical) colour
perceptions.32 When manipulated, the four main properties of colour: hue, tone, saturation and
brightness, have an impact on human responses. By altering these three properties, a colour can
shift from ‘warm’ to ‘cold’ and consequently affect the mood and emotions of the observer at a
subconscious level. The colour of a warm red has, for example, been documented to have an effect
on human beings by accelerating their activity; while a cool blue has been shown to have a more
calming effect.33 Such knowledge is directly implicated in professional design programmes. By
manipulating the three properties of colours, the traffic trough a given space can be controlled: the
colours affect how people will pass through it, how long they will stay in it, and even – to an extent
– how they will behave in it.34
Painted sculpture: challenging human senses
While defining what colour is can be almost impossible, appreciating colours on a threedimensional form seems even more challenging to modern, Western aesthetic thought. Accepting
painting as separate from the sculpted form has been integrated to modern, western art history since
the European Renaissance.35 The practice of dividing the two originates from a statement once put
forth by Renaissance artists that the sculptor worked by removing matter, while the painter worked
30
These are the results from a research program in Oxford, exploring the colour preferences amongst British people
during the last 60-70 years. The results show that colour preferences are to some extent affected by age, gender and
culture on a smaller scale (those who experienced orange during the 1970s might have formed a different relationship
with the colour than younger generations).Mikellides 2012, 108-112; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 142-147.
31
Mikellides 2012, 112.
32
Birren 1961, 143-156.
33
Nicholas Humphrey (1943- ) and colleagues have examined the effects of both red and blue light on monkeys. The
monkeys’ activity was higher when exposed to red light, than when exposed to blue. Furthermore, another experiment
by Humphrey proved that factory workers spent less time in a room painted red than in a room painted blue. Further
research has repeatedly supported Humphrey’s studies, although scholars have yet to explain why the hues of red and
blue have such effects on human activities. Mikellides 2012, 122-124; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 149-151.
34
Mikellides 2012, 125; Haller 2012, 551-584; Wright 2012, 158-159. In cities in Scotland and Japan, alterations in the
nuances of streetlights from orange to blue have even proved to reduce crime: Shimbun 2008; Grohol 2008.
35
Lichtenstein 2008, 4.
13
by adding matter.36 But the battle between the two has also been grounded in how the viewers are
able to experience the two art forms. Colours have been viewed as mainly reserved for painting,
which could be controlled and restricted by the drawn line, and not as something which in itself
held any particular essence.37
The differentiations made between paint and sculpted form reflects a general dualistic approach to
two of the cardinal senses: sight and touch.38 In the 19th century artists began to experiment with the
emotional effects of colours on paintings confronting how the viewer experienced the painting with
his/her senses by refining the power of sight.39 Colours were applied not just to stimulate sight but
also to awaken the spectator’s appetite.40 By using colours alone sight could be extended to touch,
but the true pleasure of seeing was heightened by confining sight through tactile distance: the
viewer saw an image but touched the surface of a canvas.41 Essential to this particular use of colours
is therefore the distance, it is the pictorial illusion that toys with human sensory emotions, and
secures the spectator in a firm position recognizing and almost, but not completely, believing in the
optical trick (‘only a mad-man grasps at the fake bottle’42). This secure aesthetic experience has
during the last 60-70 years become a subject for hyper realistic artists to challenge and confront
(fig. 0:7).43
The relationship between image and illusion, the visual nature and extents of mimetic effects, is a
challenging and highly alluring topic that has haunted the human spectator since antiquity.44 The
Greek painter Zeuxis was famous for painting images of grapes in such a life-like manner that birds
were trying to eat them; a practice of mimesis of which Plato was highly critical.45 To Plato the
artist was a threat to the truth; mimetic art works were interpretations on behalf of the artist himself,
which should not be considered as true imitations of natural forms.46
So what happens when the painted illusion detaches itself from the canvas to engage with the threedimensional space of the spectator? When the visual illusion becomes tangible and challenges the
secured position of the viewer? The experience becomes uncanny: the painted sculpture cannot
36
Lichtenstein 2008, 5.
Batchelor 2002, 17.
38
Howes 2011, 435-437.
39
Lichtenstein 2008, 8-9.
40
Lichtenstein 2008, 56.
41
Lichtenstein 2008, 57.
42
Lichtenstein 2008, 57.
43
Roller 2014, 61-63.
44
Sörbom 1966; Drost 1996; Mansfield 2006; Halm-Tisserant 2009; Bradley 2014.
45
Mansfield 2006, 8.
46
Pl. Resp. part III, 393d, 394d, and part X, 598b, 602c; Mansfield 2006, 9; Halm-Tisserant 2009, 142-145.
37
14
deliver the same experience as ‘the real thing’ and so the viewer can easily be appalled. The painted
sculpture challenges the aesthetic sense of the traditional, modern (Western) viewer; upsets the
balance between Art and Nature.47 Although similar experiences must have been an everyday
encounter during the Roman Empire, the modern day scholar and viewer are struggling with
locating the familiar within the highly unfamiliar experience of painted sculptures. Modern viewers
have so far felt secure knowing that the painted illusion on a canvas is a safe visual experience;
although the life-like, painted bottle can make the viewer feel thirst s/he would never reach out with
the intensions of grabbing it. But when the illusion is completed in sculpted form, the safeness of
the experience disappears, and the viewer is confronted with a visual trick that does not cater to the
emotional insecurities connected with not knowing how to trust your own senses.
Colours on white marble sculptures: negative hallucinations?
Having shortly touched upon why colours on sculpture can be such a difficult topic to engage with
in modern, Western scholarly practices, I will now also attach a brief comment to how scholars
have developed a certain ‘blind spot’ when it comes specifically to colours on ancient marble
sculpture and architecture.
David Batchelor explores what he calls the ‘motivations of a modern fixation’ with white in his
monograph Chromophobia from 2002. In his introduction he quickly turns to the term minimalism;
but not to explain what motivates the fixation with white. Because, as Batchelor explains, modern,
Western societies are colourful, just not always in a conventional way made by clearly visibly
definable hues, but rather through combinations of manipulated materials and creative exploitations
of tones and saturated effects.48 He goes on: ‘To mistake the colourful for the colourless or white is
nothing new. But it is one thing not to know that Greek statues were once brilliantly painted; it is
another thing not to see colour when it is still there. This seems to speak less of ignorance than of a
kind of denial.’49 This is what psychoanalysis call negative hallucination: to not perceive what is
visibly there.50 While Batchelor excludes the general unawareness of the polychrome material
culture of antiquity from belonging to the same negative hallucinations as not seeing colours which
are actually there, I will argue that it is as much a part of the same general denial.
47
Friborg 2014, 302.
Batchelor 2002, 12.
49
Batchelor 2002, 12.
50
Batchelor 2002, 12.
48
15
According to Batchelor the main premises for not seeing colour when it is present are grounded in
basic Western colour appreciation, which revolve around separating hues of colours from
differences in tones of white, grey and black (see colour theory and the science of colour above).
The 18th century neo-classicists constructed a romantic aesthetic thought of a colourless and pure
marble as the ideal medium for sculpture.51 The transparency of white marbles, as untouched and
untouchable, echoed an idea of truth which was coined by Plato (see above) and which
Winckelmann defined as the ideal beauty of the classical form.52
But the non-painted white sculptures put on display in the galleries of the NCG are not –and have
never been- white. They are fragmented and weathered with surfaces covered by years of encrusted
and calcareous layers, dirt from modern pollution and affected by years of cleaning, restoring and
reconstructing; and combined, the overall visual effect of all these affections is a general, visually
diffuse, yet, also uniform patina which has become a familiar sight to most museum visitors. Some
of the sculptures still carry vague testimonies to their once polychrome finishes, such as the
portraits of Caligula and Augustus mentioned above, but scholars have tended to largely ignore
such evidence. As negative hallucinations the colours on ancient white marble sculptures have
remained largely unexplored. Instead the ancient marble sculptures have been staged and
manipulated as fragmented ruins for philosophers, artists and scholars to impose their notion of
visual perfection to inspire both art and thought.53
The colours of ancient sculptures have effectively been separated from their sculpted form, and
although the awareness of the importance of colours have gained momentum in paintings
throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, the (non-)white ancient sculptures have struggled to evolve
beyond the constructed frames of visual aesthetic appreciation. Now, the rapidly increasing
knowledge on their original polychromy challenges many years of manipulated perception, and
almost like a mirror it confronts the very essence of modern, Western societies.
2: Aims and focusses
Before I turn to what this dissertation sets out to accomplish, I must emphasise that it does not seek
to be a deliberate break with the above discussed modern infatuations with the constructed
51
Prodany 2001, 16-18; Batchelor 2002, 17; Friborg 2015
Potts1994, 164; Batchelor 2002, 17.
53
Podany 2001, 16; Friborg 2014, 288.
52
16
dialectics of tones and hues, and paintings and sculptures; however, it will undoubtedly form a
comment thereto. First and foremost this dissertation will explore how the colours on Roman
marble portraiture may have been constructed and experienced by the Romans themselves. The
dissertation does therefore neither cater to what may be termed as a modern, Western
‘chromophobia’ (at least not intentionally), nor does it concern itself with explaining the
motivations behind modern Western negative hallucinations; only when such constructed ideas of
aesthetics potentially become obstructive forces to the discussions and interpretations presented
throughout the main chapters.
In general, this dissertation aims at a discussion of how the painted colours on white marble
portraiture may contribute to modern day scholarly interpretations of their original purposes. The
dissertation will, above all, focus on the originally intended experience between portrait and viewer;
including the semiotic use of colours (referred to as colour-coding), the portraits’ materiality (both
their material and immaterial aspects) and their physical context (how they were experienced
through staged displays).
Structure and Chapters
This dissertation presents the first thorough analysis of a selection of Roman white marble
portraiture that focuses on their original polychromy. The case studies, subdivided into two groups,
include 15 Roman portraits selected from the collection of the NCG in Copenhagen, which have
been scientifically examined within the research context of the Tracking Colour Project54
supervised by research curator Jan Stubbe Østergaard.
The portraits have been analysed by the conservators Maria Louise Sargent and Rikke Hoberg
Therkildsen in close cooperation with the author. For a detailed account on the methodologies used,
see Appendix 2, also shortly summarized below (B2) and in A1.3. For a detailed account on the
results from examinations, see the Catalogue in Appendix 4. The reconstructions of the portraits
presented in B4.3 and B5.4 are explained in Appendix 5. Finally all of the figures mentioned
throughout the dissertation, including those used for Appendix 2-5, are gathered in Appendix 1.
What follows now is a short presentation of the three main Sections and the individual chapters.
Below is a more detailed explanation of the terms applied and the theoretical and methodological
approaches.
54
See www.trackingcolour.com
17
Section A will set the stage for the presentations and discussions of the painted marble portraits in
the following chapters, by analysing the materials which were used for polychrome portraiture and
sculpture during the Late Republican and Roman Imperial periods. Section A will discuss how the
white marbles came to dominate the sculptural (and architectural) productions of Rome and Italy by
emphasizing the material agencies of the stones themselves and the applied polychrome effects,
meaning how such material- and polychrome properties affected their final appearances and overall
purposes (Chapter 1). In order to ground the materiality of the painted white marbles, i.e. their
material properties and all value ascribed thereto, this Section will include a presentation and
detailed exploration of other sculptural materials, including coloured stones, metals, limestone,
terracotta, wood and wax (Chapter 2). By doing so, this chapter will discuss the complexity of the
visual field(s) in which the different material origins of the sculptures were originally intermixed
(Chapter 3).
Section B will present the two Case Studies. Each individual portrait sculpture will be presented
according to their state of preservation, material properties and traces from modern cleaning but
also their stylistic and technical executions (sculpting, chiselling, texturing) and what results from
scientific examinations have been able to show of their once painted appearances (Chapters 4 and
5). These results will be discussed according to comparative material, and experimental
reconstructions will be presented of each portrait sculpture.55 Finally, this Section will provide a
detailed discussion of how the portrait sculptures may originally have been produced, primarily
according to the use of different white marble types and pigments and how the different material
properties of the individual stones were exploited and dematerialized to obtain specific visual
effects, which other sculptural materials (presented and discussed in Section A) were unable to
parallel (Chapter 6).
Section C will analyze the examined paint remains on the marble portraits, as presented and
reconstructed in Section B, according to their semiotic purposes by using a theoretical approach
referred to as colour-coding (Chapter 7). This approach is grounded in the assumption that none of
the painted colours on the portraits were applied accidentally: the colours were mixed and applied
to convey specific, verbally recognizable messages (semiotic purposes), and as part of a largely
55
Detailed descriptions of the processes of creating the reconstructions can be found in Appendix 5.
18
subconscious, extended Roman mind (supra-semiotic messages) (Chapter 8). As the dating of the
portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 ranges over almost 200 years, developments of the semiotic
meanings of certain colours over time (post-semiotic) will also be taken into account.
Section C will also engage with the complexities evolving around ascribing – in particular –
symbolic values to 2,000 year old artistic uses of colour-codes, which will also function as a
summing up of all previous chapters (Chapter 9). As colours were constructed within the social
frames of an extended Roman mind, they were produced to be experienced according to a Roman
subjective sense. Even when mindful of the major caveat that the remaining colours on the ancient,
fragmented marble works in museum galleries are at best difficult, and mostly impossible, to
reconstruct exactly as they were originally meant to be seen, chances are that modern day viewers
will never be able to fully grasp the ascribing of values which the symbolic use of certain colour
properties embodied. De-coding the constructed colour-coding of ancient art forms is therefore
always being influenced by the colour appreciations of a contemporary society, thereby reflecting a
rather modern colour-construction compared to what the ancients experienced.
Finally, a short remark to the overall aims and purposes of this dissertation is needed before we
proceed to the terminological, theoretical and methodological explanations of the study at hand.
This dissertation is a result of a work process restricted by a specific time-frame and page
limitation. Therefore the topics of the three main Sections present selected debates concerning the
traditional scholarship of Roman portraiture. This dissertation does therefore not aim at providing a
complete account of the original nature and purposes of Roman practice(s) of painting on marble
portraits. Instead it will – hopefully – provide insight into what dedicated studies into the
polychromy of Roman portrait sculptures are able to offer modern theoretical and methodological
analysis. More research can advantageously be done in the future, which will either support or
dismiss the preliminary conclusions presented in this dissertation.
19
3: Terminology
Colour semantics
Colours are studied by a broad range of scholarly disciplines from all over the world. Because of
this the vocabulary of colours is vast. In order to avoid any misunderstandings, the dissertation will
follow the terminology proposed by Carole P. Biggam in her monograph from 2012.56 Biggam
describes colour according to four major properties: hue, saturation, tone and brightness, which are
defined as follows:
Hue is the principal constituent part of a colour and may also be referred to as chromatic colour.57 It
refers to the visible light (detected by the human eye), which causes colours to separate themselves
from each other. In English vocabulary, hue refers to what we mean by calling a colour ‘red’,
‘blue’, ‘green’, etc.
Saturation refers to the how the hue is perceived according to the amount of grey it contains.58
Little or no amount of grey (fully saturated hue) will cause the colour to appear as vivid, while a
high amount of grey (low saturated hue) will make the colour seem dull.
Tone describes the different levels of admixtures of white and black in a colour. Tone is used to
describe the relative lightness and brightness of a colour, ranging from pale to dark. Tone may
therefore also be used to describe the so-called achromatic colours; namely blacks and whites, by
referring to their relative scales of light.
Brightness is a property which related only to the level of light which the colour reflects. The
amount of light that reaches the eye is affected by the nature of the source of light, which the colour
is exposed to. The colour red may therefore seem different depending on how it is lit (lamp,
sunlight, etc.).
56
Biggam 2012, 1-8.
Biggam 2012, 3.
58
Biggam 2012, 3-4.
57
20
Polychromy
Polychromy is a modern term deriving from the Greek word polychrómatos, meaning multicoloured.59 In this dissertation the term is applied to describe the multiple colours which the
sculptures embodied, including not only painterly effects but also other elements, including inlaid
eyes and metal attachments. Furthermore polychromy covers the naturally occurring, as well as
artificially enhanced, visual colour effects of coloured stones, metals (mainly gold, silver and
bronze), terracotta, wood, limestone and wax. Painted polychromy refers specifically the multiple
colour effects of painted sculptural surface finishes.
Craftsman, artist, sculptor, painter and workshop
The four terms are used to define the originators of the painted marble portraits by referring to the
diverse nature of artistic agency (see A4 below) which affected the visual appearances of painted
marble sculptures. It should be noted that it lies beyond the scope of this dissertation to discuss
whether the Roman originators of painted marble portraits were craftsmen or artists. Both terms are
used due to the author’s belief to have observed both terms reflected in the production and the
originally intended visual effects of the portraits presented and reconstructed in Section B.
Craftsman is used to describe the skilled workman creating artefacts manually. The craftsman is
defined by the work process: the term has a functional connotation and denotes the practicing of a
handicraft or trade. The artistic agency of the craftsman is closely connected to his or her skills,
which, in turn, are influenced by a local tradition in which s/he is trained.60 The works produced by
a craftsman can therefore be objectively valued according to quality, and their overall goal was to
please the commissioner or any potential clients.61
Artist is used to describe the originator of a sculptural work whose work process differs from that of
the craftsman. The artist is a creator who seeks to create a work of art that possesses a quality of its
own. This quality, however, is largely relative, and its emotional impact can be evaluated as either
59
Abbe 2015, 173.
Munck 2015, 38.
61
Munck 2015, 39. See also Conlin 1997, 29-35; Clarke 2003, 273.
60
21
appealing or appalling by its viewer.62 The agency of the artist is also influenced by the local
tradition of the craft in which s/he is trained, but unlike the craftsmen the artist will also seek to
impose his or her own idea on the works s/he produces.63
Sculptor and painter are terms used to refer to a specialized craftsman or artist who specifically
creates sculptural or painterly works. At the current stage in research into ancient sculptural
polychromy, it is largely unknown whether or not the two may have been united in one person
during the Roman Empire. As the aim of this dissertation is to discuss the effects and purposes of
painted marble sculptures, the two generally will be treated as separate craftsmen/artists working
closely together.
Having highlighted the individual terms, a final note will be attached to the question of sculptural
originators: none of the terms are used in reference to a ‘great master-craftsman’, ‘-artist’, ‘sculptor’ or ‘-painter’. Roman craftsmen rarely have names or biographies.64 Their works are rarely
signed and the Latin authors (such as Pliny the Elder) always refer to the great (Greek)
artists/craftsmen/sculptors/painters of the past, and rarely to contemporaries.65 This does not mean
that ‘great masters’ did not exist during the Roman Empire; merely that they are difficult to trace
and study.66 While artistic agency (see below) is regarded as an important aspect of the production
of the individual portraits, the term generally refers to a certain traditional expertise of crafts, a lost
embodied knowledge of the Roman craftsmen, which influenced the individual commissions.
Furthermore, the term workshop refers to the physical place framing the manufacturing/creation of
painted marble sculptures, as well as workers themselves.67 A workshop may have been active for
generations implying a great strength of tradition in the manual crafts of antiquity.68 Boys would
become apprentices at a young age and thereby become accustomed to the craft by every-day
exposure to the materials and tools of the workshop. Sculpting and sculpting marble sculpture
would have become second nature, and knowledge of the craft rooted in an embodied intuition. In
Rome, during the first centuries BCE and CE, most craftsmen were freedmen and, based on their
62
Munck 2015, 36-37.
Munck 2015, 36.
64
Conlin 1997, 29-30.
65
Conlin 1997, 27.
66
On the extensive work on the so-called sculptor’s ‘studio’ and general workshop practices at Aphrodisias see
Rockwell 1990A; Rockwell 1991; Rockwell 2008; Smith 2008B.
67
Conlin 1997, 27-28.
68
Analysis of signed statue bases found at workshops in Rhodes show that they remained a family-business from the
fourth century BCE to the first century CE. Conlin 1997, 30.
63
22
funerary inscriptions, they primarily worked in individual shops attending to a regular flow of
commissions.69
The master-carver of a workshop taught his craft to his own sons or slave boys, who were then – if
proven to be talented – given their freedom when reaching adulthood.70 From then on, they could
either stay in the same workshop or move to another.71 Decisions concerning materials, formats and
styles of the portrait commissions were made by the master-carver of the workshop and the patron
of the commission, but the works were often executed by other low-level craftsmen in the pyramid
hierarchy system within the workshop (e.g. fig. A:10).72 It is not unlikely that different craftsmen
within a single workshop possessed different specialized skills breaking down the activities by
dividing the work tasks between them.73
Originally intended purposes/experiences
This is an unclear phrase and will occur more than once in the following chapters, which therefore
requires a short explanation. It is used to explain what separates modern day appreciation of
sculptural materials and polychrome additions, applications and enhancements from what may have
been that of Roman appreciation in antiquity. As noted above, most modern scholars are
accustomed to interpreting the sculptural materials and their originally intended purposes according
to their naturally occurring material properties; properties which are relatively close to their present
fragmented state in museum galleries. But to the ancient spectator, the sculptures looked radically
different. The phrase ‘originally intended (…)’ does therefore not seek to explain what the
individual artists/craftsmen or commissioner explicitly wanted – or may not have wanted – a
polychrome sculpture to look like, but is a fluid rhetorical reference to the fact that the polychrome
sculptures used to convey radically different visual appeals, largely unfamiliar to modern scholars,
which were never accidental but carefully arranged.
Attending to deciphering an ‘originally intended experience’ implies a viewer. It should therefore
be made explicit that the dissertation does not intend to examine who that viewer was.74 Rather a
theoretical framework (see the extended Roman mind below) is applied to overcome the difficulties
69
Conlin 1997, 31.
Conlin 1997, 31.
71
Conlin 1997, 34-35.
72
Conlin 1997, 38-42.
73
Rockwell 1990; Rockwell 1993, 178; Conlin 1997, 87-88; Hallett 2008; Smith 2008; Trimble 2011, 137-140.
74
For studies into the Roman viewer, see in general Stewart 2003; Clarke 2003; Elsner 2007.
70
23
with identifying the actual social and cultural identity of this largely anonymous viewer, by placing
emphasis instead on the promises of certain expectations of a future hypothetical viewer who
thereby influenced the visual outcome of the painted marble portraits.
24
A: Theoretical approaches
In this section, theoretical approaches employed throughout the dissertation will be explained. I
have chosen to accommodate the highly flexible nature of colours and therefore apply more than
one theoretical approach to analyse the material at hand. The theoretical approaches are presented
according to different terms, which cover both more general philosophical hypotheses as well as
contextualized analyses. Each term is well-known to archaeological studies and chosen because
they are able to explore the colours on marble sculptures according to how the given sculpture was
meant to be experienced by a viewer (‘art-like situations’75). The following section will present the
different terms according to how they are applied throughout the dissertation.
A1: Colour-coding and colour-codes
Colour-coding is conveying significant meaning through colours. One of the earliest known
systematic uses of colour-coding is flag semaphore where coloured flags are used to communicate
over long distances.76 Today colours are applied in all kinds of human environments guiding our
every day life in numerous situations from electrical wiring to traffic lights to interior designs.77
Colour-codes are used in our every-day language to conjure up images for appropriate situations
which are both fixed in cultural contexts as well as crossing boundaries.78 But one thing remains
universal to the application of colour: colours are always coded and never applied accidentally.79
The term colour-coding is not unfamiliar to archaeological analysis of paint applications.80 In her
article from 2004 Georgina Muskett analyses the use of colours on Mycenean wall-paintings on
Thera, specifically focusing on female dress, and proposes that the Mycenean artists deliberately
made use of a system of colours to communicate specific messages. Her study is brief and she
concludes that more work needs to be done in order to de-code the nuances of the colour-codes
which may hold additional information regarding the identities of the wearers.81 Muskett uses
colour-codes to extract information from, in this instance, the dress worn by female figures on the
wall-paintings from Thera, by presupposing –but without addressing this in detail- that the
75
In general see Gell 1998, 1-11.
Kecker 1893.
77
Biggam 2012, 1.
78
Berlin and Kay 1969; King 2012, 535; Biggam 2012.
79
Riley 1995; Haller 2012, 551; Batchelor 2002, 21-49; Biggam 2012.
80
See Muskett 2004 and Liverani 2014.
81
Muskett 2004, 71.
76
25
communicative system of colours was made to be perceived by a viewer who expected a certain
relationship between iconography and applied colours.82 She notes how ‘the use of colour appears
to conform to the conventional and generic nature of Mycenean art (….)’, but does not seek to
explore this particular relationship in more detail.83
Within the theoretical context of this dissertation colour-coding presupposes that colours were used
as semiotic markers to mediate a socially and culturally constructed visual language (Chapter 7).
The overall use of the term colour-coding therefore refers to the theoretical assumption that all
colours on the Roman marble portraits were constructed and intentionally applied. Colour-codes
rely on systems of displaying information by exploiting the properties of colours. Colour-codes
construct the everyday environment of all human beings: colours are specifically developed to
guide us through the day, e.g. traffic lights84, while others are working at the subconscious levels;
including the colours of spatial environments, which can determine how we act and how long we
will stay within a given context (see subsection 1 above).
This dissertation will actively engage with the psychological aspects of painting marble portraits
through an analysis of how the painted marble portraits conformed to, or separated themselves
from, other polychrome, sculptural materials (Chapter 3), through sequences of artistic
manipulations of marble and paint seeking specific visual results (Chapters 4-6). What may have
been the originally intended appearances of the portraits concerning this dissertation are discussed
in detail (Chapter 7), and each coloured element (hair, skin, garments, plinths, busts, shafts and
inscriptions) is evaluated according to how the applied colour-codes relates to the sculpted form as
well as to what a potential viewer would have expected (Chapter 8 and 9)
By doing so this dissertation will explore in detail how the colour-codes on the marble portraits may
have conformed to the generic and conventional nature of Roman art. Through systematic decoding, the colour-codes on the marble portraits may thereby be able to reveal how Roman society
appreciated colours in general. In what follows below the basic theoretical tools are presented,
which are implemented in the analytical approach that is colour-coding throughout this dissertation.
Also a graphic illustration (fig. 0:8) has been made to aid the understanding of the system of
traditional, archaeological theoretical tools that has been assembled to fully unravel the
complexities of colour use. All of them are chosen because they are well known from –more or lesstraditional archaeological research, and they are listed in random order.
82
Muskett 2004, 71. See also Muskett 2007, 43-49.
On an evaluation of Muskett’s methodological approach see Muskett 2007, 60-61.
84
Kecker 1893.
83
26
A2: Semiotic, supra-semiotic and post-semiotic
Analyzing the applied paint layers on the portraits concerning this dissertation as deliberately
communicating their own language calls for an explanation of how such a visual language may
have been constructed. The overall analysis of the semiotic purposes of the applied colour-codes,
which will be discussed in detail in Section C, are grounded within the theoretical assumption that
the painted Roman portraits followed language-like, flexible structures, as argued by Tonio
Hölscher first in 1989, later translated into English in 2004.85 The images of language of Roman art,
to which the painted marble portraits belonged, was ‘(…) a universally understood system of visual
communication (…)’ serving the elite as well as the greater population of Rome.86 The flexibility of
the semiotic system allowed for multiple ways of visual, artistic expressions, which did not develop
in one single direction, but was influenced by numerous factors, while constantly gravitating
towards certain familiar experiences or an appropriate combination of theme, style and subject.87
The constant presence of visually familiar stylistic traits served to validate the visual language of
the sculptural works, which should not be perceived as restricting any artistic expressions but rather
as offering them strength as social agents. I shall return to this below when presenting Alfred Gell’s
theories of the extended mind (below A5).
Hölscher’s analysis is rooted in the traditional scholarly assumption that all architectural and
sculptural works of the Roman Empire were left marble white. He argues how the celebrated
masterpieces of Greek art ‘(…) came to be the recognized norms for specific subjects and messages
of content’, which through distributed production and consumption gradually became ‘selfexplanatory’.88 The following chapters of this dissertation will, however, propose that the applied
polychromy of sculpted portraiture throughout the Roman Empire offered distinctive and highly
flexible colour-codes, which not only supported but also transcended and added new layers of
meaning to the stylistic and iconographic language(s) of the plastic forms. What Hölscher concludes
on the different semiotic purposes of Roman copying of the abovementioned Greek masterpieces, as
turning into a ‘(…) common, rehearsed and often trivial practice,’ may therefore have to be revised
in light of new evidence of their originally painted appearances. His proposed semiotic approach
will therefore also have to be adjusted to include a polychrome visual language as well. Certain
theoretical ‘apps’ are therefore needed in order to fully grasp the complex language systems, which
85
Hölscher 2004, 2.
Hölscher 2004, 125.
87
Hölscher 2004, 126.
88
Hölscher 2004, 125.
86
27
the polychrome additions offered, both according to the sub-conscious perceptive and emotional
effects of colours (supra-semiotic) and constantly changing and developing language use (postsemiotic).
Supra- and post semiotic
Hölscher himself acknowledges that semiotic analysis has its limitations.89 The most apparent, in
my opinion, is dealing with the polysemic and transposable nature of the language of imageries
(such as the constantly re-adapting emotional effects of colours), which is termed the suprasemiotic purposes in this dissertation.90 Exploring the supra-semiotic purposes of the painted
colour-codes on the portraits will in particular be the focus of Section B and of Chapter 3, which
will will discuss how the painted colours of specific sculpted elements of the portraits constructed
certain readings not just as verbally recognisable, stereotypic representations, but also as
instinctively familiar yet highly unique visual experiences.
The supra-semiotic purposes of the colour-codes are explored as staged by commonly shared visual
points of reference that were constructing and being constructed by certain systems of Roman
colour appreciations and categorizations. But the supra-semiotic analysis also explores the ‘deeper
lying’ meaning by focussing on every individual aspect of the purposes of the paint on the marble
portraits. Analysis of the supra-semiotic purposes of the coloured marble portraits is addressed in
situ emphasizing the original physical context to which the portraits were intended.91 By doing so
more information can hopefully be extracted regarding how the constructed colour-codes were
perceived in the dynamic process of experience through which the semiotic purposes and overall
meaning of the applied colours were composed –and revised. Through direct interaction with the
viewer within a given context the structures constituting the colour-codes on the marble portraits
were transported, recombined and adapted to existing ones deriving from previous experiences. By
combining the impression within the current contextualized experience with previous ones the
semiotics of the painted finishes would be in constant development.92 This is the supra-semiotic
purpose.
89
Hölscher 2004, 2.
Watkins and Swidler 2007, 162.
91
Watkins and Swidler 2007, 162.
92
Watkins and Swidler 2007, 163.
90
28
Hölscher’s semiotic analysis tends to mainly emphasise the merely apparent intentionality ‘behind’
the objects, meaning the intentions that are visually recognizable, and which can be ascribed to the
craftsmen, commissioner and viewer. It is, admittedly, very difficult to firmly conclude anything on
any non-material, perceptual and – to an extent – largely individual aspects of unique ancient
Roman experiences with painted marble portraiture. Although colours are largely individually
experienced (see colour theory and science of colour above), it is necessary to address this issue
within the limits of what the material at hand allows. I shall return to this below in section A5.
The other aspect of constructed semiotic purposes, which Hölscher deals quite extensively with, is
the development of the visual languages over time. Since the production of the portrait sculptures of
Case Studies 1 and 2 covers two hundred years, it is necessary to take any chronological
transformations of their visual communicative properties into account as well. Such developments
are termed the post-semiotic purposes of the painted marble portraits, a term inspired by Daniel
Miller and Sophie Woodward’s 2012 survey on how jeans are worn in a present-day North London
area.93 One of their conclusions, which is the one of primary interest to the discussions of chapter 3,
is how jeans have accumulated multiple, different meanings over time, despite their generic form
and traditional stylistic appearance. The term post-semiotic is therefore mainly applied in order to
properly delimit and explore the developments of colour-codes, meaning the biographies which
certain colours accumulate over time; some remaining strongly connected to a primary object
(including coiffures and certain types of garments, such as the Roman toga), while other colours
seem to have become ‘strong enough’ to detach themselves from iconography and become their
own primary object.
A3: Materiality, material properties and material culture
Semiotic analysis (described above) tends to strongly emphasise the intentionalities, or agencies
(see below), of the craftsmen producing the sculptural works, those of the commissioner (and/or
sitter) and what the Roman viewer would have been able to extract and understand visually.
However, as a theoretical approach, semiotics fails to fully explore how the sculpture itself acted as
a social agent, which was not only constructed by but also in return constructing the inferred
93
Miller and Woodward 2012.
29
intentionality of craftsman, commissioner and viewer. One important aspect of the intentionality
inferred by the sculpture itself refers to its materiality.
Materiality is defined as all the tangible as well as the intangible that relates to the material
properties (see below) of objects. Materiality is the merely apparent (the physical matter, shape,
contours), behind which lies ‘that which is real’, meaning its non-material aspects including the
subjective sense, feeling or experience one has of this (the supra-semiotic purposes discussed
above).94 The entangled, natural relationship between the material and the immaterial is what
constitutes materiality: the one is not applied as a means to approach the other; rather they are
interlinked and studied as such.
Materiality is generally approached as discussed and defined by Daniel Miller. Influenced by
Erving Goffman95 and Ernst H. Gombrich96, Miller proposes a theoretical stand towards materiality,
which focuses on how things surrounding us are barely noticed, because we expect them to be there,
and by ‘fading out of focus’ things are actively shaping and contributing to human social
interactions.97 This is what Miller calls ‘the humility of things’: objects are important, ‘(…) not
because they are evident and physically constrain or enable, but often because we do not ‘see’
them.’98 Objects are able to ‘(…) fade out of focus and remain peripheral to our vision (…)’, and
because of this they are strong social agents.99 They are ‘(…) the exterior environment that
habituates and prompts us.’100
Material properties and material culture
On a microscopic scale, the tangible aspects of the materiality relating to a given object are its
material properties. In case of the painted marble portraits, these include the stone chosen as base
material, its material properties (grain size, elasticity and luminosity of the marble), as well as the
painterly effects including pigments, binders and such. The importance of the material properties
will be explained in detail below in the section on material agency (A4).
On a macroscopic scale, materiality is constructing and being constructed by a material culture
which related both to a culture of material properties as well as to a culture of non-material
94
Miller 2005, 1; Porter 2010, 5, note 5.
Goffman 1975.
96
Gombrich 1979.
97
Miller 2005, 5.
98
Miller 2005, 5.
99
Miller 2005, 5.
100
Miller 2005, 5.
95
30
associations. Material culture is therefore the constructed extended world of material forms to
which all unique objects are related. For example the materiality of the painted marble portraits
(consisting of tangible, material properties including selected marbles, pigments, binders, as well as
all intangible values ascribed thereto) was defined by the tradition of producing painted marble
sculptures within the Roman Empire, including all its associated economic, aesthetic, political,
cultural and social values. The material culture of Roman portraiture is the constitutive schema of
the structures of social and cultural Roman life, which in combination with various human agencies,
(see below) who de-coded, recombined and adapted the schema through selective choice of
sculptural materials, creating manipulated and constructed experiences.
Studying the immaterial and the material aspects of objects (in this case Roman painted marble
portraits) approaches the very core of human relationships and the material cultures surrounding
them. Material cultures constitute human social relations, on both a conscious and subconscious
level: ‘(…) we are not just clothed; rather, we are constituted by our clothing,’ as Miller puts it.101 It
has even been suggested by some scholars that the material cultures surrounding us are, in fact,
direct extensions of our innermost self, our memories and most basic functions.102 The material
cultures surrounding us are constructing and being constructed by human agencies (see below), and
as such they guide human activity: in particular when the human brain in certain cases and for
different reasons fails to perform its basic functions.103 In such cases the material culture takes over
and acts as what may be described as ‘cognitive wide ware’.104 Thus material culture is directly
constitutive of constructing human social relations and not just a reflection thereof.105
Put like this, the material culture – and the materialities which it constitutes – is regarded as more
than physical and tangible ‘props’ or secondary agents to the human primary subject. Human
activities and memories are stored within – and thereby shaped by – the physical properties of the
material culture surrounding us: ‘Certain aspects of the external world, in short, may be so integral
to our cognitive routines as to count as part of the cognitive machinery itself.’106 When exploring
the materiality of the painted marble portraits, the sculptures are therefore analyzed as constituting
101
Miller 2005, 42.
Clark 2010.
103
Take, for example, people suffering from severe Alzheimer’s, who are able to live a relatively normal life while
staying at home surrounded by their own, recognizably constructed material culture. When moved to another location
this material culture will have to be closely restored in order to maintain the same basic, successful brain functions. In
such cases the material culture supports the brain in navigating the human body through basic, everyday activities.
Clark 2010, 14.
104
Clark 2010, 10-13.
105
DeMarrais, Gosden and Renfrew 2004, 1.
106
Clark 2010, 15.
102
31
more than mere lifeless, passive objects: they are analyzed as strong, social agents, who mediated
multiple material as well as human intentionalities and agencies (see below), and who through
constant physical presence participated in habituating and shaping Roman social identities and
relations. This will in particular be explored in Chapter 7.
A4: Agencies
Throughout this dissertation, the terms agency and agencies cover the many different agents
inferring their more or less unseen intentionalities onto the painted marble portraits and thereby
affecting their visual outcome.107 The term agency may therefore be understood as “(…) the
relatively flexible wielding of means toward ends.”108Agencies transcend the tangible as well as the
intangible and can be understood as relating both to an organ (language, mind, experiences, etc.)
and to an ergon (culture, society, etc.).109
In this dissertation several agencies are included in the discussions of the purposes of painted
Roman marble portraiture. First and foremost, the agency of the craftsmen and artists (artistic
agency), whose differing skills and artistic traditions affected the visual outcome. Secondly are the
agencies of sitter and commissioner, who would also have affected the production of the sculpture
either because of aesthetic, economic or other personal reasons. Thirdly the agencies of the
materials at hand (see also materiality, material properties and material culture above) are
particularly emphasised, including how their material and polychrome properties provided certain
possibilities, as well as limitations, when creating portraits (explained in detail below). Finally, the
agency of the viewer, to which the sculptural production was aimed, is also taken into account. The
viewer would have inferred some of the artistic, traditional and economic choices in the process of
creating polychrome portraiture by mere promise of certain expectations.
All of these agencies constructed each other by inferring their intentionalities. Analyzing how
agencies affected the visual appearances of painted marble portraits can, therefore, be perceived as
rather negative. This is so because the outcome of the theoretical application of such analysis
signals a structural, self-sustainable eco-system constituted either by human or material agencies.110
But in the context of this dissertation, agencies are regarded as what provide the painted marble
107
Gell 1998.
Kockelmann 2007, 375.
109
Kockelmann 2007, 375.
110
For a critical evaluation of the use of agency within archaeological research, see Lindstrøm forthcoming.
108
32
portraits with their strengths as social agents. As explained above in the section A3, the painted
marble portraits should not be regarded as secondary, passive objects to the primary, active, human
subject but as equal to the human agents when exercising and constructing agencies. Because of the
agencies listed above, the ‘external’ material culture is entangled within the ‘internal’ human world,
forming a symbiotic relationship between objects and subjects.
Material agencies
Material agencies are highlighted throughout almost all of the chapters; not only the material
agencies of the painted marble portraits but also in general the agencies of other sculptural materials
which are presented in Chapter 1, and how the different material and polychrome properties
contributed in defining the desired visual appearances of the painted marble portraits.
Research into material agencies have increased over the last decade.111 As explained above studies
into the materiality of sets of archaeological data have shown that cultural and social identities were
constructing and being constructed through the agencies of the materials themselves.112 A major
critique on the growing scholarly emphasis on material agencies, seeks to re-instate the human
agency above the material by claiming that power and authority develops material cultures through
control over natural resources, labor and embodied knowledge.113 However, the need for seeking
such control over natural resources may be equally constructed by the material cultures (see above)
defining not just how different materials are consumed but also which and why. Debating which
came first, the mind or the matter, is a discussion bound to end up going in circles, and most
scholars have therefore accepted a middle ground stressing both the agency of the material and the
agency of the human mind (fig. 0:8).114
Seeking this middle ground I define materiality as everything relating to the tangible as well as the
in-tangible nature of materials and things (see above), and material agencies as the intentionalities
working on behalf of the sculptural materials themselves which contributed to constructing the
visual appearances of the polychrome portraits. Material agency relates to the physical and tangible
aspects of the sculptural materials used for producing polychrome portraiture during the Roman
111
In general see Tilley 2004; DeMarrais, Gosden and Renfrew (eds.) 2004; Knappett and Malafouris (eds.), 2010;
See for example Christopher Tilley’s explorations of the important role of stone agencies in creating prehistoric
social identities of Malta and Southern Sweden. Tilley 2004.
113
DeMarrais, Gosden and Renfrew 2004, 2. See also Lindstrøm forthcoming.
114
DeMarrais, Gosden and Renfrew 2004, 2.
112
33
Empire; meaning the material properties of the marbles and the pigments and binding media used to
produce their intended colour effects.
It is important to emphasise that the material agency –or agencies- are accentuated throughout this
dissertation not to devaluate the human agencies, but to provide a platform from which the purposes
of the applied colour-codes can be fully explored. Stating that the colour effects of the marble
portraits related only to paint applications on white stones is a simplified version of the complex
nature which the colour-codes on the portraits concerning this dissertation embodied. The
polychromy of each portrait was the result of individual artistic processes of sculpting, texturing
and painting which together defined the visual effects of the colour properties. Colours are
perceived according to how they are physically positioned (see Colour theory above), and the
original optical purposes of the painted marble portraits were therefore not just a matter of
producing the right paint mixture, but also very much concerned with providing the proper canvas
for the paint mixture to be applied onto. Although the same basic pigments seem to have been
applied on all the portraits, the hues of the paint mixtures consisting of, for example, red ochre
would have changed according to the nature of marble surface texturing.
Because of this the material agencies of the individual sculptural materials are emphasised. Each
white marble stone offered unique canvasses from which different polychrome effects could be
created, which again depended on their individual material composition as defined by their
geological origins. Also, the pigments offered different possibilities and limitations to the Roman
craftsmen that not only defined the visual end results but also how they were employed. Some
pigments could be easily obtained and processed into finely ground grains that could be applied
directly onto a marble surface in thin and transparent layers; while others embodied a structure that
was coarser and better suited for opaque and thick layers. As such the agencies of the materials used
for painted Roman marble portraiture, as directly related to their physical, material properties, also
contributed to defining the visual outcome of the sculptural products.
A5: The extended Roman mind
Finally, what unites the many different theoretical approaches listed above is the overall assumption
that each individual visual appearance of the polychrome portraits were united within a common
socially and culturally defined visual expression constructed by an extended Roman mind. Although
many different agencies were at play, inferring their individual intentionalities on the painted
34
marble portraits, the visual appearances of the mass of painted marble portraits were, however,
executed to be uniformly recognisable. The explanation suggested for this stylistic uniformity is a
frame of shared cognitive coordinates referred to as an extended Roman mind.
The notion of an extended mind derives from Alfred Gell’s monograph from 1998.115 Here Gell
writes of how objects act as agents, ‘(…) through which we are able to grasp ‘mind’ as an external
disposition transcending the individual.’116 Gell uses Marquesan artefacts to explore how the notion
of style is rooted within an extended, collective mind, causing the art works to act as social agents,
or outcomes of social initiatives, which reflects socially inculcated sensibilities.117 As such, each
fragment of Marquesan art resonates with one another (as if they bore kinship), ‘(…) because each
has passed, uniquely, through a Marquesan mind, and each was directed towards a Marquesan
mind.’118 Thereby the visual appearances and intended appreciation of the artworks of the
Marquesan are fixed within their own social frameworks.
By grounding the analytical approach referred to as colour-coding in Gell’s theory of the extended
mind, colour-coding transcends and explores the many layers of colour-perception, which the
Roman viewer was exposed to in the visual encounter with the painted marble portraits from case
studies 1 and 2. Existing within the social frameworks of Roman society the chosen polychrome
effects (functioning as semiotic markers) would have been perceived by the viewer as verbally
recognisable (stereotypic) versions of Roman reality. But as part of the extended Roman mind the
colours on the marble portraits would also have affected the viewer on a subconscious level.
Travelling through the mind of the craftsmen and the commissioner (affected by their agencies) and
directed towards the mind of the viewer, the colours were constructing and being constructed by
certain expectations revolving around the visual experiences with painted marble portraiture.
Furthermore, by using Gell’s concept of an extended mind, this dissertation aims to transcend any
specific determinations of who the Roman viewer might have been. Defining the Roman viewer
according to age, gender, social class and such is not of interest to this particular study. Exploring
how the viewer may have participated in constructing certain visual experiences surrounding
painted marble portraiture, through the inferred intentionality of the viewer’s agency, is what
matters to the discussions of particularly Chapter 8.
115
Gell 1998, 221-258.
Tanner and Osborne 2007, 1.
117
Gell 1998, 220.
118
Gell 1998, 221.
116
35
A6: Abduction of Agency
The term Abduction of Agency derives from Gell’s 1998 monograph which has been mentioned
above. Abduction of Agency happens, according to Gell, in ‘art like situations’.119 Gell developed
the theoretical framework for this specific experience with the intentions of providing a scientific
approach to understanding art. According to Gell a work of art, such as a painted marble portrait, is
constituted by an Index. The Index embodies all the physical properties of the painted marble
portrait, such as marble and paint which has been elaborated on above as material agency.
Abduction of Agency happens when a material index captures, persuades or enthrals an observer; it
is a particular cognitive process of inferred intentionalities revolving around what the material
agency of the painted marble portrait infers on its viewer as well as the other way around.
Gell developed a so-called Art Nexus to explain Abduction of Agency in more detail by defining the
different conceptual elements that relate thereto (fig.: 0:9). Besides Index and viewer (Recipient)
the agencies of the Artist (see above) is greatly emphasised in the Art Nexus, as well as the socalled Prototype. The Prototype is defined as a ‘representation’120, and in the case of the painted
portraits the Prototype may be identified as the portrait type or format (statue, bust, herm) and/or the
person portrayed.
In this dissertation Abduction of Agency is employed primarily to explore the experience between
the painted marble portraits and their originally intended viewers (fig. 0:10). All of the different
agents involved with the painted marble portraits, the agencies of craftsmen/artists, commissioner,
materials and viewers are perceived as both Agents and Patients. They are not specifically
positioned towards one another but rather moved around freely, yet always gravitating towards
exploring the purposes of the applied colour-codes.
The portrait type (Prototype) is primarily explored as the Agent guiding and controlling the overall
artistic implementation and manipulation of marble and paint (Index), but also as a Patient being
dictated by the same material properties (Index) –however, rarely the Artist. Chapter 1 explores
how the material and polychrome properties, the material agencies, affected the overall production
of polychrome portrait sculptures during the Roman Empire by discussing how the materials (the
Indexes) may have defined the portrait type (Prototype) and its intended context. Chapter 2
continues the focus on the materials (Index) but explores how the materials related to the role of the
craftsmen (Artist) by exploring the Art Nexus between material and artistic agencies. Finally
119
120
Gell 1998, 13; Tanner and Osborne 2007, 10.
Gell 1998, 25.
36
Chapter 3 places emphasis on the originally intended viewer (Recipient) and how the Index may
have constructed (as Agent) and been constructed by (as Patient) the expectations (inferred
intentionalities) of the viewer (Recipient).
It is, however, not until main Chapter 8 that the term Abduction of Agency is actively implemented
in the analysis. This particular section explores how the portraits were originally intended to be
experienced; meaning how where the manipulated visual effects of the painted marbles intended to
be not just seen but also perceived emotionally by the Roman viewer. This is the first instance were
what Gell refers to as an ‘art like situation’ is constructed by recreating the original context of the
portraits belonging to Case Study 1 and how the viewer would have physically positioned him/herself according thereto.
A7: Uncanny Valley
The final theoretical term which needs an introduction refers to how the dissertation approaches the
question of the originally intended emotional impact of the painted marble sculptures. Through
detailed analysis of the artistic combination of marble and paint, the dissertation proposes that the
creative processes of creating painted marble portraiture sought specific emotional impacts, which
differed from those produced by other materials, by applying a theoretical approach known as the
Uncanny Valley.
The Uncanny Valley is a theory residing within the field of human aesthetics, which claims that a
human observer will be appalled by objects that look either almost, but not completely, or too much,
like human beings. The theory was coined by Japanese robotic scientist Massahiro Mori in 1970,
but the topic of the theory has been the subject of much debate since the early 1900s. 121The term
‘Uncanny’ derives from Freud’s theories of ‘ das Unheimliche’ (an essay from 1919). Freud terms
the uncanny as ‘(…) something which is secretly familiar (heimlich-heimisch), which has
undergone repression and then returned from it (…).’122 Freud is, however, primarily concerned
with the psychoanalytic problems of the uncanny interest, and not so much with producing an
aesthetic inquiry.123
Uncanny Valley seeks to explain how different levels of lifelikeness affect the human observer, with
particular focus on how increased lifelikeness does not necessarily lead to increases in acceptance
121
Mori 1970, 33-35; Pollick 2010, 69-70.
Richards and Dickson 1985, 336-376.
123
Richards and Dickson 1985, 375.
122
37
of an anthropomorphic object or human representation.124 To prevent the observer from becoming
appalled by the lifelike object, the object will have to balance out levels of familiarity according to
levels of human likeness: if the object looks like a human but is too unfamiliar, it will provoke
negative emotions within the viewer; on the other hand, if the object does not look like a human but
has much human familiarity, it, too, will provoke negative emotions within the human observer (fig.
0:11).125
Whether or not the Uncanny Valley effect can be predicted or overcome has been the subject of
much debate.126 When Mori presented the theory in the early 1970s, the problem of evoking
negative emotional reactions by, for example, badly animated robots and prosthesis, was not
considered especially problematic. Since then, technology has advanced greatly, and today millions
are spent on three-dimensional animated blockbuster hits, robots with artificial intelligence and
prosthesis that can provide as normal a life to disabled people as possible. Massahiro Mori’s theory
has therefore gained momentum, but whether or not his graph from 1970 can be implemented and
used as a guideline remains much debated.127 However, within the frame of this dissertation the
theory is implemented to discuss the originally intended visual purposes and emotional impact of
the painted marble portraits which other sculptural materials could not rival. Uncanny Valley is
specifically implemented as an analytical tool to explore how the painted finish of the sculpted and
textured marble portraits may have been intentionally manipulated not to obtain exact life-likeness
but rather to strive towards it.
124
Pollick 2010, 69.
Mori 1970, 33.
126
Pollick 2010.
127
Pollick 2010.
125
38
B: METHODOLOGIES: COMBINING MULTIPLE SOURCES
This dissertation takes advantage of multiple sources, by including artworks/artefacts (the
sculptures and portraits made from different materials and paintings), architecture and monuments,
written texts (encyclopaedia, lyric, satire) and epigraphy. In an attempt not to fall into the trap of
applying an archaeological analytical approach to the non-archaeological sources (which
undoubtedly is a risk), this section draws out the main premises for how the dissertation intends to
use these different sources.
Traditionally the history of Antiquity has been approached in multiple ways through the use of
using written texts by ancient philosophers, historians and poets, iconography, epigraphy, artworks
and/or artefacts and monuments. All of these sources reflect an ancient history in different ways,
and modern interpretations of them have traditionally been determined by the questions, aims and
perspectives imposed by scholars.128 These questions, aims and perspectives have been the main
focus of modern scholarship, while the sources have become a ‘Transportmaterial’ to construct a
history of the ancient histories.129 However, a greater emphasis has in recent years been placed on
the methodologies applied by modern scholars and how scholarship exploits the different sources,
namely, regarding what they communicated and to whom they communicated130, and in line with
this, this section is dedicated thereto.
B1: Archaeological methodology
Overall the archaeological sources will dominate throughout this dissertation. The portraits
presented in chapters 4 and 5 are the main empirical basis. In the additional Catalogue (Appendix
4), each marble portrait is minutely described according to state of preservation (including modern
cleaning, restoration and conservation), stylistic and technical execution, and remains from
scientific examinations of paint remains.
However, although the analytical point of departure is archaeological in nature, the overall
methodological profile of this dissertation will be interdisciplinary. This dissertation explores how
the Romans perceived colours, not just rhetorically, which has been given more scholarly
128
Dally, Hölscher, Muth and Schneider 2013, 1.
Dally, Hölscher, Muth and Schneider 2013, 1-2.
130
Dally, Hölscher, Muth and Schneider 2013, 6-7.
129
39
attention,131 but also visually, pertaining to how colours were painted onto white marble sculptures.
The same white marble sculptures have performed an important role in constructing Western
philosophical and aesthetic thought from the Renaissance and till today, not because they were
coloured but because they were ‘white’. Trying to decipher how the painted white marble portraits
were originally perceived by Roman society, therefore, also calls for a re-evaluation of modern
receptions of the fragmented marble sculptures themselves.
The ancient white marbles have been very influential as to how early art historic thought has
developed into a scholarly discipline. White marble sculptures have been excavated, collected and
put on display in most Western museum galleries, causing a great demand for the authentic white
works of art, which has remained constant since the early Renaissance. When engaging in analysis
of their original polychrome purposes, I must therefore acknowledge and constantly confront the
generally accepted appreciation of marble portraits that favour the fragmented, controlled ruins
which are the white marbles today. This appreciation is dominated especially by 18th-century, neoclassicist aesthetics (see above).132
Furthermore, and in direct relation thereto, modern practices of restoration, cleaning and
reconstructing the Roman marble portraits will be taken into account also (elaborated on
Appendices 2 and 5). This aspect is particularly important to the scientific examinations of any
preserved paint remains (see below). What curators, conservators and sculptors have chosen to
preserve, restore, clean and reconstruct, and why they’ve done so, effectively mirrors how the
marble pieces have been appreciated by their viewers.133 For example, almost all of the portraits
concerning this dissertation have been cleaned extensively, most effectively in the facial areas
leaving other areas, such as hair, less cleaned. This particular practice reflects an appreciation of the
whiteness of the marbles, but also, and equally important, of their authentic, patinated and partially
fragmented nature. Their deteriorated visual appearances are therefore not accidental but carefully
constructed appeals, established over decades to suit modern taste.
B2: Natural sciences
Approaches from the natural sciences are applied throughout this dissertation mainly to explore the
material and polychrome properties of the sculptural materials applied during the Roman Empire.
131
Bradley 2009B; Halm-Tisserant 2009; Goldman 2013.
Prodany 2001, 16-18; Friborg 2015.
133
In general see Podany 2001.
132
40
These include, in particular, analysis of the different stones and their geological compositions and
geographical origins (isotopic, petrographic and geochemical analysis, described in A1.1 and
Appendix2); and analysis of the pigments of their chemical compositions and manufacturing, and,
when possible, geographical origins (which are described in detail in A1.3 and Appendix2).
Furthermore the paint remains of the portraits presented in chapter 2 have been thoroughly analysed
following a work protocol developed by the research team associated with the Tracking Colour
Project (and its pilot study) at the NCG. For more on this, see Appendix2.
B3: Written sources
This is a predominantly archaeological dissertation focused on the tangible nature of objects, things,
and works of art or artefacts. However, written sources (Greek and Latin texts) are applied to
emphasise or relate the archaeological material to recordings on how they may have been
appreciated and experienced originally. The Greek and Latin authors cited in the dissertation range
in date, intentions and writing styles.
Throughout all three main Sections the dissertation makes particular use of Pliny the Elder and his
encyclopaedic Naturalis Historia, dating to the late first century CE. Pliny’s work is a
historiography, and as such its style is positioned in an ancient tradition of writing of the past.134
Furthermore Pliny was a personal friend of Vespasian and therefore situated at the heart of the
Empire.135 Although he dedicates his opus magnum to a general Roman audience (small farmers
and artisans) the work was intended for a narrower group of free citizens who dedicated the
majority of their time to the study of art and nature.136 Because of this, modern scholars generally
regard Pliny as a spokesman for the Roman upper class of the latter half of the first century CE.
Pliny’s work is in fused with morals.137 He sets out to write an encyclopaedia, and his frame of
reference includes hundreds of previous authors (some of them more than two-thousand years old –
at least according to himself) which he uses to provide a rational framework for his educational
work.138 The main objective of this meta-factual exercise is Art as relating to Man and Nature,
134
For more on the Greek tradition of writing history, see Dally, Hölscher, Muth and Schneider 2013, 13-14.
Bussels 2012, 25.
136
Bussels 2012, 25.
137
Bradley 2009B, 87-110, 193-197; Bussels 2012, 25-27.
138
Bussels 2012, 25.
135
41
which can be roughly summarized as follows: Art is made by Man and from Nature, and Art can be
used as a means to intervene in society.139
Throughout the dissertation, Pliny’s work is used in two ways: 1) his descriptions of marble types,
bronzes, wax and pigments (to name a few) are compared to the archaeological evidence in order to
explore the overall use of sculptural materials during the first centuries BCE and CE (Chapter 1-2);
and 2) his explicit moral world view, implicating a certain appropriate use of materials, is also
incorporated to discuss the semiotic and aesthetic impact of these materials (Chapter 3 and 8).
In Section C the dissertation makes use of multiple Roman, as well as a few Greek, authors. The
Section deals with many different aspects of the purposes of painted marble portraiture, including
the visual languages they communicated and how such messages were meant to be originally
perceived consciously as well as subconsciously.
Chapter 7 covers various themes from Roman ethnicity (Physiognomy from the fourth century BCE,
as well as Ovid, Pliny the Elder and Vitruvius) female cultus (drawing on descriptions provided by
Ovid, Pliny the Younger and Plautus) and general Roman social identities (including a detailed
discussion of the toga using written references thereto including Cicero, Plutarch, Martial and
Lucretius), to the question of portrait recognisability (using Pliny the Younger).
Chapter 8 engages with the question of lifelikeness and mimesis drawing upon a broad range of
both Greek and Latin texts attending to this philosophical question (in particular Callistratus, Plato
and Seneca). The Greek and Roman writers, who used their sophistic skills to describe art, such as
Callistratus writing Statuarum Descriptiones in the third century CE, motives for describing the
statues were, most likely, not to produce an exact description of the statues they saw. Callistratus
wanted to demonstrate his rhetorical skills in describing and creating, a practice known as
ekphrasis.140 Nonetheless such descriptive passages reveal a certain appreciation of polychrome
marble statues which can be used to explore what the viewer expected i.e. a painted marble portrait
to look like.141
139
Bradley 2009B, 87-89; Bussels 2012, 26.
Bradley 2014, 185, 187.
141
Bradley 2014, 188.
140
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SECTION A
PRODUCING ROMAN POLYCHROME PORTRAITURE
The overall aim of this dissertation is to explore the purposes of painted Roman white marble
portraiture. Section B will present the marble portraits that have been examined for traces of
original paint and which will form the main empirical basis for my discussions in Section C. This
Section will therefore set the stage by exploring the macroscopic perspectives of the material
culture of polychrome sculptural products142during the Late Republican and Imperial periods.
Within the greater ancient cities, above all Rome, white marble, together with other materials
including metals, coloured stones, limestone, terracotta, wood and wax habituated the visual,
tangible as well as intangible, sensory world of the Roman people. Coloured and white stones, gold
and silver were systematically quarried or mined and exported to Rome from foreign regions of the
Empire because their material properties offered certain visual appeals and carried specific cultural,
political, economic and social associations. Together with locally obtained limestones and marbles,
bronze, terracotta, wood and wax the exotic materials were implemented in the sculptural and
architectural productions of the workshops in Rome and Italy.143
The systematic exploitation and implementation of the sculptural materials were largely defined by
their individual material and polychrome properties. Internalized within a common Roman material
culture (see the Introduction) the diachronically different natural origins of the materials were
synchronized within the same visual fields. This chapter will explore how the materials
communicated different messages while speaking the same overall language, and through this
define and ground the intended visual purposes with the painted white marble.
Of course, taking on such an approach when exploring the purposes of fragmented, two-thousandyear-old sculptures has its caveats and restrictions, all of them defined by the overall chronological
and cultural remoteness of the Roman Empire. Knowledge of the original context of the sculptures,
meaning the physical space from which they originate, is almost always missing, making it very
difficult to trace their original production sites and where they were once put on display. Such
The term ‘Sculptural products’ covers all visual, plastic and tangible works of art or artefacts produced during the
Roman Empire. The term covers different formats (statues, busts and herms), both as freestanding and in relief, and
from miniature to colossal dimensions.
143
It is important to emphasise that the materials observed in Rome and Italy were also in use in other regions of the
Empire. The reason why this dissertation focusses on the materials used in Rome and Italy is twofold: 1) because the
portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 originates from Rome and its surrounding areas, and 2) because the use of in particular
white and coloured stones in the regions of Rome and Italy has been much explored.
142
43
contexts are imperative to modern scholarly interpretations of how the materials were manipulated
towards certain experiences, and will therefore be emphasised despite the scarce knowledge.
Furthermore, the vast chronological and geographical differences which the Late Republican and
Roman Imperial societies and cultures covered should also be kept in mind. Many of the materials
discussed in this chapter were actively used not just in Rome but throughout the Empire. The
physical nature of the materials did not change, but how their properties were manipulated by the
craftsmen and the values which the viewers ascribed thereto, was flexible and defined by local
practices (see Introduction). Even within the city of Rome, the valorisation of sculptural materials
changed during the centuries BCE and CE, ultimately affecting how they were applied for
sculptural purposes.
Keeping these caveats in mind, which may potentially lead the modern scholar to extend the
argument beyond the limits of the material at hand, this Part will include a body of evidence that
covers both archaeological and written sources, in order to present the arguments of sculptural
material uses during the Roman Empire. It is divided into three chapters:
Chapter 1) will explore the different white marble types used for portrait sculptures during the first
three centuries CE, and the materials used for painting them, including pigments and dyes and
binding media, with a particular focus on the materials relevant to the Case Studies presented in
Section B, and the following discussion in Section C.
Concerning the topic of this dissertation, knowledge on how the white marble portraits were
produced is of the utmost interest. The paint application was the final treatment, but the overall
visual outcome was presupposed and defined by the complex artistic sequences of sculpting,
sculpting and texturing the stones, which aimed at specific visual purposes and experiences (which
will be discussed in Sections B and C).
Chapter 2) will present some of the sculptural materials that were not white marbles, and which
were available to the Roman craftsmen, and which a combination of written and archaeological
evidence have suggested were the most popularly used during the Late Republican and Imperial
periods. This section will include short summaries of the individual materials: metals, coloured
stones, limestone, terracotta, wax and wood, with a particular emphasis on their polychrome and
material properties, and –when possible- any economic, cultural/traditional and aesthetic values that
may have been associated therewith.
44
This chapter does not engage with certain exotic materials including precious stones such as jasper,
chalcedony, agate, sardonyx and amethyst. Such stones were primarily used for small-scale portraits
incerted into jewellery (rings, intaglio and cameos), and due to the miniature nature of the portraits
the use of such materials did not directly engage with the same visual fields which the materials
used for larger scale sculptural products inhabited.144 Because of this I have chosen not to include
them in this dissertation. For much of the same reason, and because of its rarity, ivory is also not
included.145
Chapter 3) will explore the material culture of Roman sculptures. By using both written and
archaeological evidence (presented in Chapters 1 and 2), this chapter will discuss how the different
materials can be related to what Andrew Wallace-Hadrill termed a cultural revolution of the Roman
Empire in his monograph from 2008.146 By doing so this chapter will discuss whether a certain
appropriate use of sculptural materials can be traced and identified in particular during the first
centuries BCE and CE.
An appropriate use of sculptural materials means applying the different materials in sculptural
products intentionally and sometimes with little transformation to their natural properties. Some
sculptural materials were radically transformed when used for sculptural purposes (white marbles,
terracotta, limestone, wood and wax), while others largely remained true to their natural origins
(coloured stones and metals). These different implementations of the polychrome properties are
explored according to how they were manipulated towards desired visual effects, and how they
differed in expressions yet aligned themselves within a common visual language.
Finally, the overall aim of this chapter (as well as the whole Section) is to ground the materiality of
the painted white marble portraits. The visual purposes of each polychrome appearance of the
individual sculptures, including the painted white marbles, were defined by a common semiotic and
aesthetic frame of reference, and by exploring this we are able to ground the purposes of the painted
white marbles.
144
For more on these rare materials see Lapatin 2015, 107-169.
For more on the use of ivory, see Lapatin 2015, 171-179.
146
Wallace-Hadrill 2008.
145
45
CHAPTER 1
Roman portraits. White marble and their colour effects.
A1.1: White marble
White marbles were the most popular material for sculptural products, together with bronze, during
the first three centuries CE. During the last 30 years, scholars have explored the vast and complex
import and export of white marbles throughout the ancient Mediterranean cultures, by applying
different methodologies from the natural sciences to test and identify the geological origins of the
different marbles: approaches belonging to the interdisciplinary field known as archaeometry.147
With the aid of the results produced from archaeometric research, the routes of transporting white
marbles from quarry to workshop, and later to sculptural display, is gradually being mapped, and
knowledge of antique consumption of white marble sculptures is therefore steadily increasing. 148
Archaeological evidence from quarrying sites, remains from sculptural workshops, as well as
cargoes and inventory lists from ship wrecks found in the Mediterranean basin and storage rooms
located in the Roman harbour of Ostia, provide the main evidence of the Roman distribution
patterns, which reflects a constant demand for white marbles during the first three centuries CE.149
White marble blocks and – more or less – finished statuary, sarcophagi and architectural pieces
were transported to Rome from quarries and workshops in Asia Minor and Greece, as well as from
the Italic quarries of Carrara in northern Italy (fig. A:1). Although such trading routes were not
without costs and certain risks150, the demand for white marble throughout the Roman Empire grew
steadily during the first centuries CE reaching an all-time high in the second century CE.151 In late
Republican periods, the marble quarries were owned by private families, but most of them became
Such studies include isotopic (with particular focus on measuring the ratio of isotopes δ180 and δ13C), petrographic
and geochemical analysis. The results from such analysis are compared to already existing results in databases around
the world, where the unique marble identifications are compared according to their Maximum Grain Size (MGS) and
isotopic diagrams. In general, see Moens et al. 1988; Moens, Roos, De Rudder, De Paepe, van Hende, Marechal and
Waelkens, 1988; Attanasio 2003, 33-54; Lazzarini 2004; Lazzarini et al. 2007; Pensabene and Gasparini 2015, 102-104;
Russell 2015, 197.
148
Russell 2015, 189. In general see the published proceedings from the ASMOSIA conferences.
149
Fant 1993; Fant 2001; Russell 2013; Russell 2015, 189.
150
According to Russell, a life-size figure in white marble with a volume of ca. 1 m3 should weigh approximately 2700
kg. Moving large marble pieces for such sculptural productions (some bigger, others smaller) was therefore a
logistically demanding and expensive work task using many hours of physical labor and advanced machinery for
moving and lifting. See Russell 2015, 189.
151
Russell 2015, 189.
147
46
Imperial property during the first century CE (specifically during the reign of Augustus),152
testifying to the flourishing economics involving white marble trade.
The individual material properties of the different white marbles are defined by their geological
origins and can therefore vary greatly from quarry to quarry – sometimes even within the same
quarry – but results from archaeometric analysis have been able to identify the origins of widely
distributed stones. In Ostia, marble from Carrara in Northern Italy has been identified alongside
marbles from Athens (Pentelic marble), Paros (Parian marble), Thasos (Thasian marble),
Proconessus (Proconnesian or Marmara marble), Aphrodisias (Aphrodisian and Göktepe marble)
and Phrygia (Dokimeion or Afyon marble).153
The following section lists some of the popular white marble types used in Rome during the first
three centuries CE according to their geographical origins, Parian, Carrara, Göktepe and Afyon
marbles, which were used for the portraits dealt with in this dissertation. The individual marble
types are listed in random order. When possible their Latin names are given. They are described
individually according to their morphological qualities (such as grain size, elasticity and natural
colours) and their quarrying histories (a short biography of trade and consumption).
Parian marble
Parian marble is a term covering all the marbles quarried on the island of Paros (fig. A:1, A). At
least four sites of marble quarrying have been identified on the island, from which different types of
white marbles, belonging to different geological formations, were extracted.154
The most famous type of Parian marble was known as the lychnites by the Romans.155 It was widely
distributed because of its material properties (including a complex matrix of mixed grain sizes),
which caused the marble to reflect the light and appear as strikingly radiant. Its luminous properties
are highlighted by Pliny the Elder, who claims that the name lychnites derived from the lamps,
which were carried down the underground tunnels by the workers who extracted the marble.156The
other three types of Parian marbles vary from the lychnites in isotopic and petrographic features.157
152
Strong and Claridge 1976, 196; Pensabene and Gasparini 2015, 99-101.
Lazzarini et al. 2007; Russell 2015, 197-198.
154
Attanasio 2003, 190; Lazzarini 2004, 118-119.
155
Rockwell 1993, 20-21; Pollini, Herz, Polikreti and Maniatis 1998; Lazzarini 2004, 118.
156
Plin., HN, 36.14.
157
Attanasio 2003, 190.
153
47
Visually they appear as shining less brightly than the lychnites, and sometimes with dark, grey
patches.158
White marble was quarried on Paros from before the Greek archaic periods159; at which time it
seems to have been considered equally important to the rest of the white marbles quarried at other
Cycladic islands (for example Naxos).160 But with time, it grew steadily in popularity, reaching its
zenith during the early Roman Empire.161Lychnites was in the first century CE only quarried in
small blocks, and therefore reserved mainly for sculptural products.162 The vast exploitation of the
marble quarries at Paros seems to have ceased sometime after the third century CE.163
Carrara marble
Carrara marble is extracted from a quarrying site in north-western Italy in the Apuan Alps (fig. A:1,
B). The fine-grained and pure marble is quarried from three sites: Torano, Miseglia and
Colonnato.164Pliny the Elder shortly mentions Carrara marble as a variety whiter than those of
Paros.165Carrara marble is referred to as Luna marble by Pliny, because of the Roman city Luna,
which was located nearby the quarries, and from which the newly quarried marble blocks were
transported by ship to Rome.166
The quarries at Carrara may have been active as early as the fourth century BCE.167 But it is not
until the late first century BCE that marble from Carrara began to be systematically quarried,
mainly for the increasing building activities in Rome. During the reign of Augustus, the quarries
seem to have come under imperial control.168 Throughout the first three centuries CE, Carrara
marble was one of the most frequently used white marble types in Rome and central Italy.169
158
Lazzarini 2004, 118-119.
Attanasio 2003, 186.
160
Attanasio 2003, 186.
161
Pollini, Herz, Polikreti and Maniatis 1998; Attanasio 2003, 186.
162
Attanasio 2003, 187.
163
Attanasio 2003, 187.
164
Attanasio 2003, 165.
165
Pliny the Elder, HN, 36.14.
166
Attanasio 2003, note 28.
167
Marble from a nearby quarry in north-western Italy near Seravezza has been identified as having been used for
Etruscan cippi in Versilia from the fourth century BCE. Moltesen 2000B, 122.
168
Pensabene 2012, 732-734.
169
Pensabene 2012, 734-740. Results from examinations of the origins of white marbles used for different monuments
in Rome, dating from the first century BCE to the fourth century CE, have shown that Carrara marble covers the
majority of the applied marble materials. Attanasio 2003, 168; Attanasio, Brilli, Bruno, Ungaro and Vitti 2012. Also,
results from examinations of eight funerary monuments from the Licinian tomb and the via Ostiense dating to the first
century CE show that Carrara was – by far – the dominating marble source, see van Keuren, Attanasio, Gromet and
159
48
Göktepe marble
The quarries at Göktepe are are a relatively recent discovery. Marbles quarried from Göktepe have,
before knowledge of the quarry existed, been referred to as Aphrodisian marble,170 because the
quarries are located in central Turkey, near the city of Aphrodisias, a city which also greatly
exploited its marble resources (fig. A:1, C).171 But results from scientific analysis have shown that
the marbles from Göktepe were widely distributed throughout the Roman Empire, as
well.172Furthermore, sculptures signed by Aphrodisian craftsmen have been found in Rome and
central Italy, testifying to a certain demand for, not only marble from the regions of Aphrodisias,
but also of their craftsmen.173
The marbles extracted from these quarries are brilliantly white and fine-grained but also appear in
grey and black tones.174 The overall significant, unifying morphological trait of the Göktepe stones
is their visually compact surface appearance.175 But due to its close similarity in material properties
to the marbles from Carrara (see above) and Afyon (see below), the identification of the white
marbles from Göktepe is still being studied and debated amongst scholars.176 The quarries at
Göktepe went out of use sometime during late antiquity and have not been active since.
Afyon marble
Afyon marble (also known as Dokimeion marble) was quarried in Phrygia (western Turkey) (fig.
A:1, D). Afyon was an important site for quarrying marble stones; mainly because of the goodquality, fine-grained and elastic white stones it produced (extracted from several quarrying sites),
Herz 2009. Carrara has also been identified as the marble used for several sculptural pieces from the Villa of Hadrian at
Tivoli, see Pensabene, Antonelli, Lazzarini and Cancelliere 2012; Lapuente, León, Nogales, Royo, Preite-Martinez and
Blanc 2012; Attanasio, Bruno, Prochaska and Yavuz 2013, Table 2.
170
Discovered by A.B Yavuz in 1996. Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 217. On Aphrodisian marble, see
Rockwell 1993, 20-21.
171
Smith 2008A, 28-29; Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 221-226.
172
Göktepe marble has been identified as the most commonly used white marble type originating from Asia Minor and
was used for the sculptures in Italy. Smith 2008A, 28; Smith 2008B, 103; Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 219221; Lapuente, León, Nogales, Royo, Preite-Martinez and Blanc 2012; Attanasio, Bruno, Prochaska and Yavuz 2013,
Table 1; Pensabene and Gasparini 2015, 104.
173
Claridge 2015, 118-120.
174
Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 217; Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015.
175
Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 217.
176
Attanasio, Bruno, Prochaska and Yavuz 2013, 4368.
49
but also because the site delivered the pavonazzetto marble, one of the most valuable coloured
marbles during the Roman Empire (presented in detail in A2.2).177
The quarries at Afyon were intensively exploited during the early Roman Empire and are still active
today.178 Archaeological investigation of the quarries has yielded a large corpus of material
testifying to their long activity. Semi-worked sculptures, as well as tools abandoned during to the
Roman Empire, have contributed much to scholarly understanding of how ancient craftsmen
worked with the marble blocks on site, rough-hewing them before shipping them off to distant
workshops.179
A1.2: Sculpting marble sculptures
Archaeological evidence is the prime source of information as to how the marble sculptures were
produced, and it suggests that the tools used for sculptural productions during the Roman Empire
were basically the same as those used by craftsmen today.180 Apart from modern power tools, the
chisels and mallets, which roughly speaking constitute the prime tools for marble sculpting, have
not changed drastically over (at least) the last two thousand years.181
However, it is important to emphasise that, even though the tools have not changed, we do, in fact,
lack a precise knowledge of how the ancient craftsmen originally would have used them.182
Although we can recognize the tool marks on most Roman white marble sculptures, the artistic
sequences of sculpting them were most likely as numerous as the number of workshops within the
Empire. Craftsmen would have been trained in the traditions of the individual workshops, and the
sculpting sequences of the marble sculptures would have been affected by local practices and
individual skills.183 In the following are listed the most well-known, basic tools, which the Roman
craftsmen used for producing marble sculptures. Based on the assumption, deriving from the
tradition of marble sculpting, that most craftsmen will work their way from outside in on the marble
177
Schneider 1986, 140-141; Attanasio 2003, 155; Pensabene and Gasparini 2015, 97.
The quarries still supply almost all marble used in modern Turkey. Attanasio 2003, 154.
179
Roughly finished marble pieces from Dokimeion, bearing inscriptions with information as to the technical and
administrative details concerning their extraction, have been found in Rome. Attanasio 2003, 155. See also Fant 1989.
180
Strong and Claridge 1976, 195-207; Pfanner 1988; Pfanner 1989; Rockwell 1990A, 101-108; Rockwell 1990B, 207208; Rockwell 1991, 130; Rockwell 1993, 31-54; Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 91-93; Wootton, Russell and
Rockwell 2013A; Wootton, Russell and Rockwell 2013B; Claridge 2015, 108.
181
Rockwell 1993, 31-54
182
Strong and Claridge 1976, 195; Rockwell 1990B, 208; Claridge 2015, See the website
http://www.artofmaking.ac.uk/
183
Wootton, Russell and Rockwell 2012B, 1. For example, unlike the Roman craftsmen the sculptors from Athens
tended not to make particular use of the claw chisel, Claridge 2015, 108-109.
178
50
block, gradually producing shapes from a general to more specific figure184, the Roman tools and
work processes, to which they were applied, are defined below.
Percussion tools
The main percussive tools used for marble sculptural production in the Roman Empire were
hammers and mallets in all shapes and sizes (fig. A:2).185 Most hammers and mallets were made of
iron or wood – or a combination of the two. Today the material and shape of the percussive tools
are customized in order to meet the different demands of the material properties of the various stone
types.186 Whether or not the Roman craftsmen had the same degree of customized hammers and
mallets remains unknown due to lack of archaeological evidence.
Chisels
The chisels used in the Roman Empire were primarily made of iron and can roughly be classed
according to their shape and function: point chisels, flat chisels, tooth chisels and rounded chisels in
varying sizes.187
Point chisel (fig. A:3): The point chisel was used for the rough cuttings of the marble blocks,
leaving distinct traces on the marble surface. The point chisel was used for rough surface texturing
as well as delicate, final detailing. On Roman portraits, traces from the point chisel is normally
observed when used for rough cutting the marble, as for example the tenon of the portrait made for
insertion into the socket of a statue, bust or herm, or the rough texturing of statue plinths and such.
In some instances the point chisel was also used for the finer detailing, chiselled directly onto the
marble surface, such as eyebrows, sclerae, hair strains and beards.188
Flat chisel (fig. A:4): The use of the flat chisel resembles that of the point: it was used for rough
cuttings as well as finer detailing. The flat chisel was also used to even out the surface. For
184
Pfanner 1989, 192-193.
Rockwell 1993, 31-33 and 65.
186
Rockwell 1993, 32-33.
187
Strong and Claridge 1976, 197; Rockwell 1990B, 210-213; Rockwell 1993, 40-43 and 57-60; Rockwell, Rosenfeld
and Hanley 2004, 27-29; Claridge 2015, 108.
188
Rockwell 1993, 39.
185
51
detailing, the sharp end of the flat chisel was used for precise incisions, most commonly used to
accentuate elements such as hair strains on Roman portraits.189
Tooth chisel (fig. A:5): The tooth chisel was used primarily after the rough sculptings of the
sculpture. The tooth chisel would even the surface after the point chisel, leaving very distinct traces
on the marble surface. The tooth chisel was primarily used to give the rough shaping of the portrait
more precise contours, which were then further sculpted by point and flat chisel.
Roundel (fig. A:6): The roundel (or bull-nose chisel190) was used for deep cuttings creating depth
and plasticity.
Drill (fig. A:7): The drill became extensively used for plastic shaping of elaborate hair cuts on
Roman marble portraits during the second century CE, but has been applied in sculptural production
since at least the Greek archaic period.191
In antiquity there existed two varieties of the drill: a bow-drill (fig. A:8, A and B), designed for
detailed work and controlled by one man; and a strap-drill (also known as cord-drill) designed for
cutting away large pieces of marble and operated by two men (fig. A:8, C).192
Rasps and files
Rasps and files were mostly used for smoothening the surface of marble sculptures, leaving the
surface scratched (fig. A:9).193 Traces from the use of rasps and files will normally be recognisable
as a linear scratched surface texture, as opposed to traces from use of a tooth chisel, which leaves
the surface more roughly scratched from different directions.
189
Rockwell 1993, 42-43.
Rockwell 1993, 43.
191
Strong and Clardige, 1976, 199; Pfanner 1980; Pfanner 1989, 226-232; Palagia2006, 254-255; Claridge 2015, 108.
192
Strong and Claridge 1976, 199, Palagia 2006, 254.
193
Rockwell 1993, 47-48 and 62-63; Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 29-30.
190
52
Abrasives
After the marble surface had been smoothened by chisels, rasps and files, subsequent polishing was
sometimes applied.194 Marble stones can obtain various degrees of polish depending on how long
you rub the surface, ranging from a matte, velvet-like polish to a high-gloss polish. The high gloss
polish is therefore the absolute final stage of surface finish the marble can obtain, removing all tool
traces visible to the naked eye.195 However, it is only the elastic and fine-grained marble types
which are best suited for a high-gloss polish: the success of a polish depends on the material
properties of the marble; not the skills of the craftsman.196
The high-gloss polish is not be confused with a politur.197 Although the visual effect is somewhat
the same, the politur is an externally created application of a shiny coating placed directly onto the
marble surface (such as oil or wax), while the high-gloss polish is exploiting the natural properties
of the stone by a smoothening of the stone surface. When a marble surface has been high-gloss
polished, the crystals embedded in the stone are flattened facing the same direction. This means that
the crystals uniformly reflect the light causing the marble surface to appear as luminous to the
naked eye.198 A high gloss polish of the marble surface will ‘close’ the stone, meaning that the stone
will become water repelling (but not fully water resistant).
Today most craftsmen polish marbles with a power tool using diamond sand.199 But until such tools
were introduced at the beginning of the 20th century, the polish of sculptures could only be obtained
by a manual rubbing of the surface, first using a whetstone for the matte-polished finish followed by
different degrees of abrasives, and finally finishing off with the finest grained for the high-gloss
polish.200
Unfortunately we know very little of what tools craftsmen in the Roman Empire used to obtain the
high-gloss polish. Pliny the Elder describes how to cut marble using sand but not how to high-gloss
194
Rockwell 1993, 48-50; Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 30-31.
Pfanner 1989, 228; Rockwell 1993, 48-50; Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 3.
196
Rockwell 1993, 21.
197
Politur derives from the German verb polieren which means to polish. Politur’s are coatings consisting of wax, oil,
resin and the like, applied in modern times in order to protect the marble surface of the ancientsculpture, but also to
obtain a certain visual finish such as re-establishing a patina and thereby securing visual authenticity of the marble
sculpture. A politur is not to be confused with the ancienttechnique of ganosis. The ancienttechnique of ganosis is a
coating of wax applied onto the marble surface – most likely for both aesthetic and protective purposes. Ganosis will be
explained in more detail below. For more on politurs see Appendix 2.
198
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 891.
199
Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 30.
200
Rockwell, Rosenfeld and Hanley 2004, 30-31.
195
53
polish it.201 On a sarcophagus from Ephesus, dating to the second century CE, a figure is shown
engaged in what appears to be polishing a table leg (fig. A:10). The figure has been identified as a
slave because of his loincloth, setting him off from the master carvers on his right and left side, who
are wearing chitons and engaged with chiselling a portrait bust and statue. His low place within the
hierarchy of the workshop does, however, not tell us much about what tools the Roman craftsmen
used to obtain a high-gloss polish, but it does tell us some of the nature of the work: the master
carvers are taking care of the chiselling of the sculptures, whereas the slave is handling the timeconsuming task of polishing the final result.202
It has been suggested that the Roman craftsmen would have used lead as the final abrasive for a
high-gloss polish.203 Results from XRF analysis performed on the high-gloss polish on a selected
group of portraits in the NCG indicated a high amount of lead.204 But as lead was also found on the
surfaces of other sculptures in the collections with a matte polished surface (including modern white
marble sculptures from the 19th century), it remains inconclusive whether the results from
examining the Roman portraits reflect the abrasive tools originally used for obtaining the high-gloss
polish, the use of lead white in the original paint mixture, or (more likely) the years of exposure to
modern polluted environments. XRF analysis performed on the surface of a marble slab with a
modern diamond-sand based, high-gloss polish showed no indications of lead.
For the reconstruction of the high-gloss polished Roman portraits (cat. No. 10) the sculptor
Matthew Simmons, who performed the task of producing the marble copy, used sand paper applied
manually for rubbing down the surface during several stages, and obtained the high-gloss polish by
applying sandpaper with a grain size of 4000.
A1.3: Ancient pigments and dyes
Up till now the final surface texturing and detailing performed by the sculptor has been accepted as
the visual end goal of the portrait sculpture by modern scholars. But as research into the original
painted polychromy of Roman white marble sculptures has increased over the last decade the
purposes of the final execution left by the sculptor will have to be revised. Instead of being viewed
201
Plin. HN. 36, 51. Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 891.
Smith 2008, fig. 5a-b, 108-109.
203
Rockwell 2004, 31; Pfanner, 1989, 228. From experiments conducted at the NCG lead oxide proved to be an
efficient final abrasive tool for a high-gloss polish on a white marble slab. Results unpublished.
204
The results from the XRF analysis preformed on the high-gloss polished marble surfaces are elaborated on in the
catalogue. See cat. No. 10, 11, 13 and 14. For an explanation of XRF methodology used for identifying pigments
remains on marble surfaces, see Appendix2 and below.
202
54
as the visual end goal, the texturing and detailing should now be considered as the last preparations
of the marble surface before the painter applied the final finish (unless the surface was left free from
paint), not unlike how a painter prepares the canvas for a painting.
What remains from their original colouring of white marble sculptures are primarily scattered
pigments preserved on the marble surfaces: sometimes protected by encrustations or calcareous
layers; other times as weathered, singular grains without any clear coherency to an original paint
layer. Due to the fragmented state of evidence, scholars lack a precise knowledge of important
aspects of the application techniques of these pigments, including what binders the Roman
craftsmen used for connecting the pigments in a paint layer and making said paint layer stick onto
the marble surface, along with the number and thickness of the applied layers, and their exploitation
of the colour effects and properties of the pigments. Some of this information can be obtained by
comparing remains on the painted marble sculptures to the well-preserved paint remains on wallpaintings, Egyptian mummy portraits and such. It should, however, be kept in mind, that wallpaintings and mummy portraits are two-dimensional and painted onto materials that which differ
from those of the three-dimensional marble sculptures. The paint mixtures, including binding media
and – in particular – the techniques used for applying the individual paint layers would therefore not
have been the same. Nonetheless, such comparative material from the Roman Empire can prove
very helpful.
Pliny the Elder provides a detailed account on the individual pigments applied by the Roman
craftsmen, which corresponds fairly well with the results from modern scientific examinations.205
He divides the pigments into two categories: the colores austeri, the pigments provided by the
painter; and the colores floridi, the pigments provided at the expense of the commissioner.206
The remaining historical pigments in both sculptures and paintings are identified by a broad
spectrum of scientific examinations using complementary methodologies.207At the NCG, the
conservators performing the majority of the scientific examinations of the paint remains on
sculptures from the museum collections, followed a work protocol developed in 2008 (fig. A:11).
Analyzing the remaining paint on ancient marble sculptures does not always provide unambiguous
results. The remains are highly fragmented, and the methodologies applied are constantly being
205
Siddall 2006.
Plin. HN. 35. 30.
207
The scientific examination work protocol, followed by the Tracking Colour project at the NCG, was developed by
conservator Maria Louise Sargent, Rikke H. Therkildsen, Rebecca Hast and Mikkel Scharff. See Appendix 2.
206
55
challenged and developed by conservators, physicists and chemists. It is therefore important to
emphasise that no single methodology must supplement one another in order to obtain the most
reliable results.
Furthermore it should be emphasised that even though modern day scientific examinations of the
remaining scattered pigments on the marble surfaces are able to detect and identify most of them,
they are rarely able to provide a complete account of neither the original colour properties of the
pigments (some pigments will fade and alter over time) nor the paint mixtures, which they once
contributed to. Although microscopy and UV-Flor VIL are able to identify the use of madder lake
and Egyptian blue, they are not able to identify the original hue, saturation, tone and brightness of
those specific pigments. All the historical pigments, which are listed in detail below, were produced
in a broad variety of material properties, ranging in chromatic values and physical structure (some
were more finely grained than others). This aspect of examining the historical pigments poses
perhaps the biggest challenge to all attempts at reconstructing the original visual appearances of the
painted marble sculptures, and we may have to accept that the pigment’s ‘suicidal qualities’, i.e.
their ability to fade and disappear over the years, cannot be accurately compensated for when
working with sculptural works that are 2,000 years old.208
Keeping this main restraint in mind, a selection of documented historical pigments is listed below,
according to their frequency. The presented pigments are listed both in groups and individually
because they relate in some way to the examined portrait sculptures, which are presented and
discussed in case studies 2 and 3 in the following chapters.
Ochres (haematite, limonite and goethite)
Ochre pigments contain high levels of iron oxides (fig. A:12). They come from the earth and vary in
hue from yellow to orange, and from red to brown, depending on their type of iron oxides. The red
ochre contains haematite, while yellow ochre contains limonite and brown ochre is known as
goethite.209 The coloured rocks (or soils) are prepared by washing and grinding, and can be altered
by roasting (burnt ochre’s yellow will become red or brown, see fig. A:12D). The dominating
208
Citation is from the review of the Van Gogh exhibition, Irises and Roses, at the Metropolitan Museum:
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/22/arts/design/review-van-gogh-irises-and-roses-sheds-light-on-a-disappearing-redhue.html?_r=0 For more on the experimental nature of reconstructing the original polychromy of Greek and Roman
marble sculptures, see Appendixno. 5.
209
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 279.
56
presence of the iron oxides creates a stable and durable colour property, which is not reduced when
grinding, resulting in a pigment with a high cover percentage.210
The ochre pigments are first and foremost identified visually as pigments ranging in hue from
yellow to reddish/dark brown. Due to their high amount of iron, the identification of ochre pigments
can be established by means of XRF and FT-IR.
Ochre pigments can be connected to human activity, dating back as far as 300,000 BCE; it was
perhaps first used for cosmetic purposes and then later processed and used as pigments for
painting.211 Red ochres have been identified as one of the most commonly used dyes to colour
textiles spanning in hues of red found in Egypt and Mesopotamia from the third and second
millennia BCE.212
Ochre, as used for painting in the first century CE, is described in detail by Pliny the Elder as
colores austeri.213He furthermore notes that there existed several production sites of ochre
pigments, producing pigments of different levels of quality and therefore also expense; the best
being able to rival the effects of cinnabar (see below).214 He, in particular, highlights an ochre type
referred to as Sinopis. This ochre was red of hue, but ranging in tone, saturation and brightness (the
red, rubra, faintly red, minus rubens, and the intermediate, inter has media)215, depending on how it
was manufactured. The different qualities of Sinopis ochres had different economic expenses
attached: ‘The price of the best is 2 denarii a pound (…); the kind imported from Africa costs 8
pieces a pound, and is called chickpea colour (…).’216 Pliny also notes that the different types of
ochre pigments were suitable for different types of commissions. Sinopis ochre, for example, was
considered best suited for ‘(…) painting with a brush or else for colouring wood (...)’, while ochre
from Africa and Egypt was ‘(…) most useful for builders (…)’.217
Ochres constitute the most commonly observed pigments on the Roman marble sculptures.218 The
pigments are observed in several paint mixtures and were used for colouring hair, skin tones,
garments, plinths and backgrounds. Their high frequency can be explained partly because they were
210
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 279.
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 279; Lozier 2012, 120.
212
Chenciner 2000, 33-34.
213
Plin., HN, 35, 30-36. In Medieval England ochre pigments varied in quality and expense but were generally
considered amongst the cheapest pigments. Howard 2003, 142.
214
Plin.HN. 35. 32. Bradley 2009B, 95-97.
215
Plin. HN. 35. 31. (translated by Rackham, Loeb 1995).
216
Plin. HN. 35. 32. (translated by Rackham, Loeb 1995).
217
Plin. HN. 35. 31 and 35. 35 (translated by Rackham, Loeb 1995).
218
Abbe 2008, Brinkmann, Kellner, Koch-Brinkmann and Østergaard 2009; Brinkmann 2009B; Abbe 2010A, Abbe
2010B, Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2011; Skovmøller and Sargent 2013; Skovmøller 2014; Abbe 2015; Skovmøller
and Therkildsen 2015.
211
57
easily accessible in antiquity and preferred by Roman craftsmen because of their high surface
coverage ratio (the micron-scale grain size of the ochre particles allows for the pigments to be
extremely finely ground219). But their high frequency can also be explained by their durability; they
are the pigments that endure while most other pigments have vanished over time.220
Egyptian blue
Egyptian blue is a calcium copper tetrasilicate compound; a synthetic pigment made from heating a
calcium compound (such as powdered limestone or sand), together with copper and quartz (fig.
A:13).221 The chemical composition of Egyptian blue (CaCuSi4O10) was first identified by Sir
Humphrey Davy in 1814, from samples taken from a small pot containing the blue pigment found
in Pompeii.222
The hue of Egyptian blue pigments ranges from a saturated, almost black blue to light blue, bluishgreen and violet; all dependent on its manufacturing process (in particular the heating), but mostly it
is visually recognisable because of its blue hue (fig. A:13B).223 Its material properties are crystallike, resembling finely shattered glass, and have a relatively low surface coverage ratio compared to
the other historical pigments.224
The first, ancient written description of producing Egyptian blue pigment is in De Architectura, by
Vitruvius, dating back to the first century BCE.225 Vitruvius describes how Egyptian blue was
produced by mixing sand, flowers of saltpetre and copper (mentioning nothing of the most
important ingredient: a calcium compound).226 Systematic, experimental replications of Egyptian
blue pigment have been attempted during the 20th century. The results prove that the mixture
(calcium compound, copper and quartz) must be heated at a temperature in the range of 950-1,000
°C, which will result in a ball, slab or block of polycrystalline Egyptian blue frit to be ground into a
pigment powder (fig. A:13A,C).227 This pigment powder could then be re-heated at approx. 850 °C
219
Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 149-150; Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 279.
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 279.
221
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 147;Pradell Salvado, Hatton and Tite, 2006, 1426; Hatton et al. 2007;
Kakoulli 2009, 38-44
222
Pradell, Salvado, Hatton and Tite, 2006, 1426.
223
Pagès-Camagna, Colinart and Coupry 1999; Bianchetti et al. 2000.
224
Daniels et al. 2004, 217; Lazzarini and Verità 2015, 579.
225
Vitr. De Arch.7.9.
226
Pagès-Camagna, Colinart and Coupry 1999, 313.
227
Pradell, Salvado, Hatton and Tite, 2006, 1426.
220
58
to enhance the brightness and saturation of the pigment.228 Scientific analysis of modern
experimentally reproduced Egyptian blue pigments show that they resemble the antique pigments in
chemical compositions and structure, suggesting that the modern experimental sequence of
production may have been the same as that of antiquity.229
During the Roman Empire Egyptian blue pigment was manufactured in Egypt (located at Memphis
and active from the third century BCE to the third century CE), Mesopotamia and Italy. Vitruvius
notes, in De Architectura, that Egyptian blue was produced in Pozzuoli, near Pompeii, which has
been corroborated by archaeological evidence dating to the first century CE.230 Another production
site may have been located at Cumae, based on archaeological evidence also dating to the first
century CE.231 Furthermore, scientific analysis of the chemical composition of the copper content in
a sample taken from an Egyptian blue frit found at the Roman city Liternum, just outside of Napoli,
revealed that this may also have been a site of Egyptian blue production during the Roman
Empire.232
Pliny mentions that an important source of silica-lime, particularly used for glass-making, was
located at the mouth of the Volturno River, near Cumae.233 The same source of silica-lime may
have been the reason for the high activity of Egyptian blue pigment production in the areas of the
Phlegrean Fields.234 Furthermore the harbours of Pozzuoli, and the major roads running through or
nearby the areas, would have supplied the production site(s) with the ingredients for Egyptian blue
pigment production, that could not be locally obtained; as well as providing the manufacturing sites
with immediate routes for exportation. Following the fall of the Roman Empire, the use of Egyptian
blue decreased rapidly for reasons unknown.235 The latest known use of Egyptian blue pigment is
228
Daniels et al, 2004, 217.
Pradell, Salvado, Hatton and Tite, 2006, 1431.
230
Vitr.De Arch.9; Nicholsen 2003; Lazzarini and Verità 2015, 580.
231
Caputo and Cavassa 2009; Lazzarini and Verità 2015, 580.
232
Lazzarini and Verità 2015.
233
‘Now, however, in Italy too a white sand which forms in the River Volturno is found along six miles of the seashore
between Cumae and Literno. Wherever it is softest, it is taken to be ground in a mortar or mill. Then it is mixed with
three parts of soda, either by weight or by measure, and after being fused is taken in its molten state to other furnaces.
(…) This is again melted and forms pure glass, and is indeed a lump of clear colourless glass.’ Plin. HN, 36. 194;
Lazzarini and Verità 2015, 585.
234
Lazzarini and Verità 2015, 585.
235
On examples of Egyptian blue occurring in Late Antiquity, Medieval and the Renaissance, see Lazzarini 1982;
Howard 2001; Howard 2003, 39-40; Gaetani, Santamaria and Seccaroni 2004; Lluveras er al. 2010; Skovmøller, Brøns
and Sargent forthcoming.
.
229
59
documented on an Italian oil painting from 1524, painted by Ortolano Farrarese (also known as
Giovanni Battista Benvenuto) and depicting St. Margaret (fig. A:14).236
Identification of Egyptian blue pigments on the individual sculptures is based on microscopy,
locating any remaining blue pigments, and VIL (Visible Induced Luminescence) photography,
which identifies the blue pigments as Egyptian blue. When excited by a light source the Egyptian
blue pigment will emit infrared light, which can be documented by modified cameras (added
suitable glass filters to trace the radiation), which will document and identify the presence of the
pigments as shiny white particles.237 It is, however, uncertain what the modified cameras are able to
detect besides the Egyptian blue pigments (for example certain dust particles may also appear as
shiny white in a VIL photography), and VIL photography must therefore preferably be supported by
microscopy to ensure a successful identification. Also other methods such as X-Ray Fluorescence
(XRF), scanning electron microscopy (SEM), X-ray diffraction analysis (XRD) and gaschromatography mass-spectrometry (GC-MS) have successfully been applied.238When Egyptian
blue is identified on portraits from the case studies solely by means of VIL photography, the
identification should therefore be considered as preliminary.
Scientific analysis of archaeological materials have shown, that Egyptian blue was a widely
distributed pigment used for wall-paintings, sculptures, gems, ceramics, mosaics and various other
kinds of objects, from the early bronze age until at least the 16th century.239
During the Roman Empire the Egyptian blue pigment continued to be widely applied in all artistic
media. It is documented on wall paintings from Pompeii and Herculanum240, Rome241, Modena
(northern Italy)242, on mummy portraits from Fayum, Egypt243, in mosaics244, and on several
sculptures from Rome, and Italy in general, as well as other areas of the Empire. Egyptian blue
236
Bredahl-Jørgensen et al. 2011.
Verri 2009.
238
Filippakis et al. 1976; Daniels et al. 2004; Gaetani, Santamaria and Seccaroni 2004, 20; Pradell, Salvado, Hatton and
Tite, 2006; Hatton et al. 2008.
239
Uda et al. 2002; Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002; Bourgeoise and Jockey 2002; Howard 2003, 39-40; PagèsCamagna, Colinart and Coupry 1999; Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 147; Hatton et al. 2008, 1591;
Bredahl-Jørgensen et al 2011; Ingo et al 2013; Brinkmann 2014A, 95; Blume 2014A and 2014B; Brøns, Hedegaard and
Sargent forthcoming.
240
Aliatis et al. 2010.
241
The ceiling of the Gilded Vault of the Domus Aurea (dating to the latter half of the first century CE) (Clementi et al.
2011). The House of Livia (Hatton 2001).
242
Baraldi et a. 2006.
243
Freccero 2000, 83. Egyptian blue has also been identified on a number of mummy portraits from the NCG
(unpublished), which showed that the pigment was primarily used for painting the skin, mixed with black and brown
pigments for hair and beards and shadow effects.
244
Boschetti, Corradi, Baraldi, and Tinti 2008, 1090.
237
60
pigments in raw format have also been found at various sites, including at Pompeii and at a villa in
Nemi, where the pigment was used for painting the walls in domestic environments in situ.245
Carbon black
Black pigments used for painterly decorations during the Roman Empire are referred to as carbon
black throughout this dissertation.246 The black pigments were either soot or originated from burned
wood, bones or something else whose origins are largely undetectable (fig. A:15).247 Black
pigments originate from organic materials and are primarily identified by visual examinations.
Further methods can be applied in order to identify the organic sources of the black pigments, such
as XRF, when necessary.
Pliny the Elder mentions the use of black (atramentum) and how the black pigment could be
obtained in various ways.248 He highlights the use of burned pitch-pine as the most esteemed black
pigment which was also used for writing.249
The use of carbon black has been identified on several Roman sculptures.250 Carbon black pigments
in particular were used as underdrawings and painted shadow effects in the hair.
White (lead and calcium carbonate)
The white used for painting marble sculptures could originate from many different sources. Pliny
the Elder describes many different kinds of white for painting: Paraetorium (white chalk), melinum
(white marl from Melos) and cerussausta (most likely burned lead), all categorized as colores
austeri.251 This section will focus on the types most commonly observed on Roman sculptures:
calcium carbonate and lead white.
Calcium carbonate originates from, for example, crushed chalk or limestone processed into pigment
form, while lead white needed to be manufactured.252 The processes of producing lead white
pigments were carried on from the time of the Roman Empire until the 1880s. Lead white has
245
Augusti 1967; Siddall 2006, fig. 1, 24-25; Aliatis et al. 2010; Warner 2011, 38-39.
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 82.
247
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 83; Siddall 2006, 28.
248
Plin. HN. 35.41-43.
249
Plin. HN. 35.41.
250
Østergaard 2004, 119-127; Therkildsen 2012, 45-63; Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 51; Verri, Opper and Lazzarini
2014, 161-163.
251
Pliny the Elder, HN, 35, 36-37.
252
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 233.
246
61
traditionally been produced by heating acetic acids for several months.253 The process was
extremely poisonous, and working with lead white pigments involved the risk of being exposed to
its poisonous dusts.
The origins of preserved white compounds on marble sculptures can be identified by XRF
measuring any chemical compositions present on the surface. Lead white is identified by high
amounts of lead detectable on the stone surface, but such results should preferably be interpreted
with caution as lead will always, to some extent, be present due to modern pollution. If the results
from XRF prove insufficient, spectroscopic and chromatographic analyses can be applied.
Calcium carbonate has been identified on a number of Roman marble sculptures, both as layers and
mixed in with other pigments.254 Lead white is also commonly observed in Roman sculptural
polychromy used for skin paint and the white of the eyeballs.255
Madder lake (dye and pigment)
Madder is a lake primarily known for dyeing textiles and ranges broadly in reddish hues from
yellowish, orange, pinkish, purple to brownish (fig. A:16). The wide span in colour properties
which the dye produces is dependent on the process of manufacture but, to an extent, also on the
plant it is extracted from.256 The dye is obtained by processing the roots from the madder plant
(Rubiatinctorum) and is therefore organic.257 Madder plants grow wild and occur naturally in
several areas of the Mediterranean, including Italy, Spain and Greece, and would therefore have
been available to most Roman craftsmen.258
Madder lake pigments can be visually recognized by their saturated and bright colour ranging in
reddish hues and is identified by means of UV-Fl, which stresses the organic compounds of the
pigment resulting in a strong pink fluorescence (fig. A:17).
253
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 233.
On the so-called Treu Head from the British museum, calcium carbonate was identified both as part of the skin paint
mixture and as all-white layers both above and below the skin paint, causing a translucent effect of the applied layer.
Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014, 163-165, fig. 9a-l.
255
As seen on the Treu Head: Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014B, 148. Lead white has also been
identified as used for the skin paint on the statue of Phrasikleia, see Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014B,
145, fig. 2.
256
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 244.
257
Chenciner 2000, 22; Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 153; Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 244.
258
Chenciner 2000, 8-9, 27.
254
62
The use of madder lake as a dye can archaeologically be traced back to the late 14th century BCE in
the Mediterranean.259 However, as a pigment, madder lake has been identified on wall-paintings
dating as far back as the 15th century BCE, originating from Crete.260It appears to have been a wellknown pigment during the Late Republican and Roman Imperial periods, and is mentioned by both
Vitruvius and Pliny the Elder. Both writers mention madder as a cheaper way to obtain the coveted
effects of purple colours instead of using the expensive purpura dye extracted from the mollusc
snails (see below).261
The madder lake pigment is often found on Roman white marble portraits. In most cases it is used
intentionally for colouring sculpted details, such as tear ducts, nostrils and between slightly parted
lips (see figs. B:94, B:95, B:142). The pigment was used extensively and its popularity was most
likely due to its bright tonal values and availability. 262
Cinnabar
Cinnabar is a mineral which has a highly saturated and bright scarlet and red/orange hue (fig. A:18).
During the Roman Empire the pigment was obtained by grinding mercury crystals (gleba), were
mined in different areas of the Mediterranean, including Tuscany and Spain.263 It is identified by its
high amount of mercury by means of XRF.
Vitruvius and Pliny the Elder both describe the use of cinnabar under the names vemillion and
minium.264 Both note that cinnabar is easily damaged by sunlight turning it black when not
protected by a layer of wax or oil. Modern examinations, however, prove that such damages do not
happen to all cinnabar mixtures.265
259
Well-preserved textiles spanning in red hues from yellowish and brownish red has been found in various Egyptian
contexts and has been presumed dyed with madder lake. But examinations have shown that the majority were in fact
coloured with red ochres turned into dyes (see above). The earliest identified use of madder lake as a dye therefore
comes from pieces of cloth found in the rubbish dumps of the workmen’s village at Tel el-Amarna dated to 1370 BCE.
Also textiles found in Tutankhamen’s tomb were dyed using madder lake and dates to ca. 1350 BCE. Chenciner 2000,
33-34.
260
The red hues on the skirts of the dancing lady on the HagiaTriada sarcophagus from Crete were painted using
madder lake. Chenciner 2000, 35-36.
261
Vitr.De Arch. 7.14.1; Plin.HN. 35.45.
262
Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 153.
263
Aliatis et al. 2010, 1540.
264
Vitr. De Arch. 7.8.1; Plin.HN. 33.111-125. Minium is today not associated with cinnabar but red lead. Estaugh,
Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 105.
265
Plin.HN. 33.122. Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 152;Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 105.
63
Pliny the Elder categorizes the pigment as colores floridi,266 and he provides a detailed account of
the history of the pigment and how it was obtained.267According to Pliny cinnabar was extracted
and delivered to Rome in “(…) the crude state under seal (…)”, where it was purified and sold. 268
He notes how the pigment was held in high regard and even embodied certain religious associations
in “old times”, noting that the face of the statue of Jupiter would at times be painted red using
cinnabar.269 He furthermore notes that “(…) there is no other colour that properly represents blood
in a picture”, and also emphasises how cinnabar “(…) makes a brighter lettering for inscriptions on
a wall or on marble, even in tombs.”270 He lists other, less expensive ochre pigments which could be
applied as undercoating to mixtures of cinnabar.271 Also, colour effects similar to those of cinnabar
could be obtained using precious red ochre types, such as the red ochre from Sinopis (see above).272
Finally, cinnabar was commonly adulterated by pigments obtained from sources of quicksilver (red
lead) instead of mercury.273
Cinnabar has been documented on Roman white marble sculptures and portraits (for example, cat.
No. 5 and 13, presented in B4.2 and B5.2). On Macedonian funeral wall-paintings the pigment has
also been identified as having been used in particular for flesh tones mixed with lead white.274
Azurite/malachite
Both pigments are copper carbonates.275 Although azurite has a high saturated blue hue and
malachite has a saturated green hue, both pigments originate from the same mineral source (fig.
A:19).276 The change in colour is due to how the mineral rock is exposed to oxygen. The colour
changes from blue to green, which makes any interpretations based on the documentation of green
malachite difficult, as the pigment originally may have been blue. The pigments are produced from
grinding and washing the mineral stone into a powder.277 The mineral is obtained from natural
266
Plin.HN. 35.30. He notes that the price of cinnabar was 70 sesterces a pound.
Plin.HN. 33.111-125.
268
Plin.HN. 33.118.
269
Plin.HN. 33.111. This interesting detail provided by Pliny may mirror the extensively applied and fully covering
paint layers of reddish hues on the face of the ideal head resembling Jupiter from the NCG, inv. No. 1664. The red paint
mixtures have been examined and results proved that the paint layers consist of red and white lead. Fink-Jensen 2013.
270
Plin.HN. 33.116 and 33.122.
271
Plin.HN. 35.33.
272
Plin.HN. 33.117.
273
Plin.HN. 33.118-121.
274
Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 152.
275
Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 33.
276
Brecoulaki and Perdikatsis 2002, 153-154;
277
Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 33.
267
64
sources located in several areas of the Mediterranean. During the Roman Empire an important
location of mining azurite was on Cyprus (referred to as Cyprian blue by Pliny the Elder).278 But
Pliny also notes that azurite was produced in Egypt, Scythia and Spain. 279
Both azurite (armenium) and malachite (chrysocolla) are categorized by Pliny as colores floridi.280
Perhaps because of their high costs, azurite and malachite are rarely found on Roman sculptures –
or Antique marble sculptures in general.281 During the Roman Empire the pigment appears to have
been rather expensive, while Egyptian blue seems to have been the less expensive and more
frequent alternative to obtain saturated blue hues.282
Verdigris
Verdigris is a synthetic pigment obtained from the corrosion of copper alloys following the
exposure to organic acids, such as vinegar, curdled milk and urine (fig. A:20).283 It ranges in colour
properties gravitating towards bright greenish hues (sometimes resembling malachite, see above);
however, if not protected properly by varnishes, or the like, it will change from greenish to dark
with time.284 Vitruvius and Pliny the Elder describes verdigris extensively under the name
aeruca.285 Both describe how it could be obtained from copper in multiple ways, and Pliny
highlights how the substance was adulterated and even how one could test for any dilutions.286
Although the use of verdigris as a pigment during the Roman Empire remains to be supported by
scientific analysis, its presence and availability to the Roman craftsmen is supported by
archaeological evidence which shows that verdigris was used in pigment form since at least the
thirteenth century BCE in Egypt.287
278
Plin.HN. 33.161.
Plin.HN. 33.161.
280
Plin.HN. 35.30. He further notes that the price of azurite was 300 sesterces pr. Pound (35.47).
281
On three marble pyxides from the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, two on tall feet and one with no foot
and flat lid, and all dating to the later quarter of the fifth century BCE, azurite was identified as part of their polychrome
painted decoration. Brecoulaki, Kavvadias and Verri 2014. Azurite was also identified as the main blue compound in
the paint mixtures used for colouring the background on the relief of the Altar of the Vicomagistri. Liverani 2014, 1516, fig. 14.
282
Skovmøller, Brøns and Sargent forthcoming.
283
Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 385.
284
Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 385.
285
Vitr. De Arch. 7.12.1; Plin.HN. 34.110-116.
286
Vitr. De Arch. 7.12.1; Plin.HN. 34.110-113.
287
Olsson et al. 2001; Estaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 385.
279
65
Purpura and purpurissum
Purpura (also known as Tyrian Purple) is an organic dye (porphureos in Greek and purpura or
purpureus in Latin may either refer to the dye itself or – more likely – to textiles dyed therewith)
extracted from various Muricidae rock snail species (primarily Hexaplextrunculus,
Bolinusbrandaris and Stramonitahaemastoma), which can be found on the coasts of Greece,
Southern Italy, Turkey, Lebanon and Israel (fig. A:21).288 Purpura dye could be used to colour
earth in order to produce pigments referred to as purpurissum.289
The chromatic scales of the purpura dye are quite versatile, making an exact definition of its colour
properties difficult to fix and translate into modern colour terms (the dissertation elaborates on this
in C7.2 and C9.2). The tonal value of the hue of the dye was dependent on the snail, from which the
gland was obtained, and on how the extracted gland was processed into a colour substance, and
finally on how that colour substance was used to dye the fabrics of different material properties.290
Vitruvius furthermore notes that the colour provided by the dye was not the same everywhere.291
Depending on different variables the hue may have ranged from dark purple, almost black, to
reddish and sometimes even greenish.292
Pliny the Elder provides a detailed account of how the dye was produced, and modern experimental
reconstructions have shown that the process was very complex.293 The chameleon-like colour
properties of the dye were determined by the specie of rock snail, from which the gland was
extracted, as well how the glands were processed into a dye. Once exposed to sunlight, the gland
would change colour several times, covering green, red, purple and violet hues before settling on a
deep blue colour. If the process of obtaining the desired hue was to be successful, it needed to be
performed in a controlled environment to avoid contamination, by minimizing exposure of the
reduced solution to air and sunlight.294 Finally, the colour of the dye was also dependent on the
material properties of the textile for which it was used, as well as the process of dyeing the textile:
288
Reinhold 1976; Bessone 1998, 149-202; Christophersen 2003, 7-9; Lowe 2004, 46-47; Koren 2008, 381-392;
Bradley 2009B, 189-211; Veropoulidou 2012.
289
Term used by Pliny the Elder: HN 35.44-45. The term is also used by Kremer: http://www.kremerpigmente.com/en/product/purpurissum36015.html?info=1698&sorting=model&x83271=0ffa13094a205663a6092777e67990d8
290
Reinhold 1970, 8; Bradley 2009B, 189;Veropoulidou 2012, 103 (fig. 1).
291
Vitr. De Arch., 7.9.1.
292
Bradley 2009B, 189; Veropoulidou 2012, 103.
293
Plin.HN. 9.102, 9.124-141. Bradley 2009B, 193-197.
294
McGovern and Michel 1990; Christophersen 2003, 8.
66
the higher the concentration or number of times the textile was dyed, the stronger and more intense
the colour of the textile would become.295
Until the fall of Constantinople in 1453, purpura dye was systematically produced.296 Purpura dye
was one of the main products produced and exported by the Phoenicians from the middle of the 14th
century BCE (hence the name Tyrian purple).297 One of the earliest pieces of archaeological
evidence of purpura production comes from Crete and dates to ca. 1900-1700 BCE.298 Purpura
dyed garments were regarded as items of luxury and recognized as symbols of distinction already in
the second millennium BCE, which continued throughout the first millennium BCE.299 According
to Theopompus (fourth century BCE), the ‘Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver in Colophon’
in Asia Minor.300
Several manufacturing sites of purpura dye have been identified in Italy dating to the Republican
and Imperial periods.301 Taranto appears to have been an important site since the fifth century BCE,
but traces from shells and tools to produce the dye has also been found at Monte Circeo at Torre
Paola (near S. Felice Circeo), Ancona, Venice, Aquilea as well as in Palermo and Syracuse on
Sicily.302 In Rome, during the Late Republic, purpura dyed textiles, in particular when used for
colouring the Roman toga and stola, were a highly versatile and distinctive tool for communicating
social and even political identities.303 During the first century CE purpura dyed garments – or
garments made from fabrics dyed in similar hues – had become something everyone wanted to
wear.304 I will return to this in more detail in C7.2.
Purpura dye turned into pigment is referred to as purpurissum (fig. A:21,B). Pliny the Elder
describes how the pigment was produced: it was obtained from dyeing white earth either from
295
Sebesta 2001, 69, 71; Christophersen 2003, 8-9.
Lowe 2004, 46.On the history of purpurasee Reinhold 1970.
297
Most linguists agree that ‘Phoenix/Phoenician’ could have meant ‘purple’. The Phoenicians founded many colonies
with the purpose of manufacturing this particular dye, and from the fourth century BCE, the Muricidae rock snails were
depicted on Phoenician coins. Workshops found alongside piles of crushed snail shells and broken vessels for storage
have been found at both Tyre and Sidon dating to the 12 th century BCE. Veropoulidou 2012, 103-104.
298
Crushed snail shells were found at Palaikastro, Koufonisi, Kommos and Kato Zakro. Furthermore archaeologic
evidence suggests, that purpura was also produced at other Greek sites such as Akrotiri at Thera, Kythera, Agios
Kosmas (near Athens) amongst others from ca. 1700-1100 BCE. The manufacturing of purpura further increased
during the Iron Age. Veropoulidou 2012, 104-105.
299
Reinhold 1970, 9-29; Kottaridi 2011, fig. 82; Veropoulidou 2012, 105.
300
Theopompus, cited by Athenaeus ,The Deipnosophists, 12:526.
301
Reese 2005, 111.
302
Reese 2005, 111.
303
On purpura used for dying the toga: George 2008, 95; Bradley 2009B, 197-201; Bradley 2013, 135-138.
On purpura used for dying the stola: Scholz 1992, 15 and 22-23; Olson 2008, 30.
304
Reinhold 1976, 52; Sebesta 2001, 71;Bradley 2009B, 201.
296
67
soaking up the colours from dyed textiles or from the raw dye directly deriving from the
seashells.305 The latter was, according to Pliny, more superior.
The use of purpurissum pigments is never identified solely by means of visual examinations. As
purple hues were commonly obtained from single as well as mixed use of other pigments,
identification must be based on scientific analysis. Purpurissum pigment can be identified by
spectroscopic and chromatographic analyses, which will detect the chemical presence of the
amphibole secretion produced from the mollusc.306
Purpurissum pigments are rarely observed in the archaeological material.307 However, as the
pigment was quite expensive, and presumably therefore rarely used for painterly effects, the Roman
craftsmen would mix less expensive pigments, such as madder lake or bright ochres with Egyptian
blue, in order to obtain the coveted colour properties, associated with the effects of the dye.308
Leaf gold
Leaf gold is a term, which covers all types of golden polychrome application on Roman sculpture
and portraiture. It was neither a pigment nor a dye, but it is presented in this subsection because it
constitutes an additionally applied polychrome effect on similar terms as the above mentioned
pigments and dyes.
The most commonly observed use of leaf gold in the archaeological material is very thinly beaten
sheets of gold which would have been applied by using egg white as adhesive.309 Such an
application of leaf gold would have been visually recognisable because of its distinct shine.
Furthermore, written sources suggest that golden dust was well-known as a cosmetic enhancement,
at least in the later Roman Empire, and presumably therefore also available to sculptural
craftsmen.310
305
Plin.HN. 35.45. Bradley 2009B, 98-99.
McGovern and Michel 1985, 1515-1516; McGovern and Michel 1990, 154-156; Koren 2007, 381; Sotiropoulou,
Perdikatsis, Birtacha, Apostolaki and Devetzi 2012, 270-271.
307
On two marble pyxides on high feet and one cylindrical marble pyxis with no foot and a flat lid, all in the National
Archaeological Museum of Athens, and dating to the later quarter of the fifth century BCE, purpura may have
constituted a major part of their polychrome, figural decorations. The brightly purple colour may be organic in origin,
but a secure identification remains to be made. Brecoulaki, Kavvadias and Verri 2014.
308
Giachi et al. 1021.
309
On examples of use of leaf gold on ancient sculpture see below. On egg white as adhesive for leaf gold, see
Bourgeois, Jockey and Karydas 2009, 651; See also Appendix 5 (Ap5.5).
310
It is mentioned in the Historia Augusta, dating to somewhere between the third and the fourth century CE, that
Lucius Verus used to sprinkle golden dust into his blond hair and beard in order to make it shine brighter. Historia
Augusta, 10.7.
306
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Leaf gold is identified by means of visual examination, but XRF will also be able to detect any
traces from once applied leaf gold, by measuring the chemical remains on the marble surface. 311
Applying leaf gold onto sculptures is well-documented in the archaeological record either as
completely covering the surface of the sculpture, or applied onto particular elements including
sculpted hair and jewellery.312 Most commonly observed are the thin sheets of leaf gold applied on
top of painted layers ranging in hue from yellow, red, pink, purple and black.313 Such a combination
of paint layers and gold suggest that the colour effects of the applied pigments were able to shine
through the thin leaf gold, adding hue to the shine of the beaten gold. The dissertation debates this
in much more detail in main section C below.
A1.4: Binding media
Binding media, or binder agents, are what makes the pigments cohere and adhere to a given surface.
They are organic in nature and will deteriorate over time. Finding any remaining binder agents on
antique marble sculptures is therefore a troublesome work task. In the work-pyramid presented
above (fig. A:11), testing for binding agents (GC-MS) is at the top of the pyramid; meaning that
such analysis are rarely performed. This is primarily due to the scattered and weathered remains of
organic materials: only in very few cases have the remains of paint on an antique marble sculpture
allowed for a successful analysis of the binding medium used for the original paint mixture.314
Besides the scarce remains, testing for binders on an ancient marble surface is also problematic due
to the sophisticated technology needed to carry it out, which rarely produces straightforwardly
applicable results. When the results, for example, show high levels of protein, it is difficult to define
what kind of binder such protein levels may refer to, since at least four types of protein-based
binding media could have been used during the Roman Empire, including egg yolk and egg white,
casein and animal glue.
311
Bourgeoise, Jockey and Karydas 2009, 649.
Abbe 2008; Abbe 2010A; Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2014; Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015.
313
Scientific examinations of Hellenistic marble sculptures from Delos have shown that the craftsmen commonly used
coloured ground layers beneath leaf gold applications; often yellow hues but sometimes also red (Bourgeoise, Jockey
and Karydas 2009, 648-649). On selected marble sculptures from the city of Aphrodisias (dating to first three centuries
CE) leaf gold was identified mainly on top of red ground layers (Abbe 2009, 139-145). On a statue of Hygieia in the
Worcester Art Museum (inv. No. 1936.36), leaf gold was found on top of paint layers composed by white and yellow
pigments, red pigments and even black ones (Artal-Isbrand, Becker and Wypyski 2002). In the hair of the Roman youth
(cat. No. 10 and 11), leaf gold was found on top of yellow paint layers (see B5.1). Leaf gold was found on top of a
purple paint layer of the chiton worn by Artemis, from the group of Artemis and Iphigenia in the NCG (Inv. No. 481482a. Sargent and Therkildsen 2010, 14, fig. 5. See also: http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/22).
314
See fx Stege, Fiedler and Baumer 2009.
312
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Protein-based binding media (egg yolk and white, casein and animal glues)
Egg (yolk and white), casein and animal glues are all protein-based binders. Casein is a term used
for a family of proteins found in mammalian milk (most concentrated in cow’s milk), while animal
glues derives from boiling skin, bones and other tissues originating from animals. All of them
would therefore have been accessible to the craftsmen of the Roman Empire. Using egg, casein or
animal glues in water-based paint mixture is known as tempera technique and has since antiquity
been one of the prime techniques for painting.
Protein-based binders are well-documented on Greek and Roman wall paintings, on the Egyptian
mummy portraits from Fayum, Egypt, dating to the first three centuries CE (fig. A:17), as well as
on sculptures and monuments.315Although the protein-based binders are treated as one group, it
should be emphasised that they have different material properties, which allowed for different
adhesive and visual effects. Egg-based paint mixtures have proved to be successful on most
experimental reconstructions. The reconstruction of the portrait of Caligula in the NCG
(reconstruction A in Carrara marble) was painted using an egg-based tempera technique providing it
with an overall matte finish (fig. A:22).316Also casein mixtures have proven to be successful as
binding media on experimental reconstructions.317
Plant gums
Plant gums consists of polysaccharides, sugars, which are extracted from a variety of trees and
plants, both by tapping the bark and from processing their seeds.318 Using gum-based paint mixtures
classifies as tempera technique, which is largely used for water-colours. When used as a binder
agent, it has a somewhat similar, although less glossy, finish than that of an egg-based paint
mixture.
Amongst the most important gums are Gum Arabic (extracted from the Acacia senegal and Acacia
seyal plants) and Gum Tragacanth (extracted from the Astragalus plant). Both have been in use
since antiquity, amongst other gums from fruit trees (mainly cherry, but also apricot, peach and
315
Freccero 2000, 7-8; Stege and Fiedler 2009; Brecoulaki et al. 2006; Kaoulli 2009, 35-36;
Stege, Fiedler and Baumer 2009, 216-217.
317
I would like to thank Ulrike Kock-Brinkmann for sharing her experience in making experimental reconstructions,
and in particular her expertise in working with different binder agents. For our own work with reconstructing the
portrait of a Roman youth (cat. No. 10), which will be presented in B5.4, she suggested casein for the high-gloss skin of
the portrait, which proved to be very efficient once completely dry. For more information see B5.4 and Appendix 5.
318
Grössl et al. 2005, 80; Bonaduce et al. 2007, 272.
316
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plum), and they can be identified separately due to such different chromatographic profiles.319 Gum
Arabic has been documented on sculptures dated to the archaic320 and Hellenistic321 periods, but so
far it has not been identified on any Roman marbles.
Wax
Wax, as a binders agent for painting, must be heated before the pigments can be mixed in. Painting
with wax as binder is known as encausto technique, deriving from the Greek word enkaustikos;
meaning to ‘burn in’.322 In order to apply a wax-based paint mixture, the craftsman will need to
keep it constantly heated, burning in the colours by melting them together with the heated wax.
Once dried up to a semi-translucent, matte/shiny finish (which could be further polished and
smoothened), the paint layer will become resistant.
In modern encaustic painting there exists a broad variety of wax types which have different natural
compositions.323 The so-called Punic wax, a form of ‘purified’ or processed beeswax, is highlighted
by Pliny the Elder, as well as by Vitruvius, as being the most preferred type of wax for art works.324
Neither Pliny nor Vitruviusis, however, are explicit about whether wax was solely used as binding
agents or whether it was also used for sculptural purposes.325 Vitruvius describes how Punic wax
was used to cover painted surfaces of both sculptures and architectural structures for protection and
tinting.326 Once applied the wax would be polished to obtain a certain shiny and smooth surface
finish. He refers to this practice as ganosis.327
319
Infrared spectrometry (IR), Gas chromatography (GM) and Gas chromatographic-mass spectrometry (GM-MS) are
normally used (preferably combined) to analyze and identify binders (see Appendixone). Bonaduce et al. 2007, 281.
But various other techniques have been developed as well. Grössl et al 2005, 88.
320
The Sphinx from the NCG: Sargent, Spaabek, Scharff and Østergaard 2009, 84 and www.trackingcolour.com.
321
The marble throne from the tomb of Eurydice in Vergina: Kakoulli 2009, 35. Kakoulli’s results have, however, been
questioned by Harciclia Brecoulaki (presented at the Round Table conference in Athens in 2013).
322
Freccero 2000, 8; Ward 2008, 190-193; Abbe 2015, 178.
323
For example, the melting point of wax depends on its type; beeswax has its melting point at around 60-65 °C, while
carnauba wax has its melting point around 83-85 °C. Ward 2008, 190.
324
Vitr. De Arch. 7.9.3-4; Plin.HN. 21.84-85. It should be mentioned that the chemical composition of the Punic wax
still needs to be clearly defined. Stacey 2011. See also: Freccero 2000, 8; Ward 2008, 191.
325
Pliny does, however, note that encaustic painting was not applied to walls but for decorating vehicles (ships in
particular). Plin.HN. 35.49.
326
Vitr. De Arch. 7. 9.3.
327
“But if anyone proceeds in a less crude fashion, and wishes vermillion surface to keep its colour after the finishing of
the wall is dry, let him apply with a strong brush Punic wax melted in the fire and mixed with little oil (…) Then let it
be worked over with waxed cord and clean linen cloths, in the same way as naked marble statues; this process is called
ganosis in Greek. Thus a protective coat of Punic wax does not allow for brilliance of the moon or the rays of the sun to
remove the colour from these finished surfaces by playing on them.” Vitr., De Arch., 7. 9.3-4.
71
Pliny the Elder describes how wax could be used as binders agent using the term encausto.328 He
notes that there existed three prime types of encaustic painting; one with wax and graver (cestrum)
on wood, the other with wax and graver on ivory, and, finally, that melted wax was also applied by
means of a brush.329 To apply the wax with a brush, the wax would, however, have needed to be
mixed with some kind of oil, as is suggested by Vitruvius.330
Painting with wax as binding medium is well known from the Roman Imperial mummy portraits
originating from Egypt (fig. A:17). Examinations of the mummy portraits show, that wax was used
in a number of different ways; both as pure beeswax, indicating an encausto technique, but also
mixed in with calcium carbonate and gypsum (indicating Punic wax) and as saponified beeswax,
meaning a beeswax processed into a soapy liquid, which was applied by brush, providing a finish
visually similar to that of a tempera painting.331
There is abundant archaeological material which testifies to wax being used for painting, tinting or
providing protective coatings to ancient sculptures. Wax has also been identified on the Parthenon
marbles332 in the British museum as well as on a portrait head depicting Berenike II in Musée Royal
de Mariemont (fig. A:23 and A:24).333 Also, on an Apulian column krater (fig. A:25) a painter is
depicted working on painting a statue of Heracles in encausto technique.334 And on an epitaph from
Aphrodisias, a sculptor is identified as agalmatopoiosenkaustes; meaning that he was specialized in
the encaustic technique.335
Although wax remains to be firmly established on Roman white marble sculptures, it seems likely
that it was also used by Roman craftsmen. On the so-called ‘Beauty of Palmyra’ dating to the
second century CE wax was identified from a sample extracted from the elaborately decorated
turban, she is portrayed wearing (fig. A:26).336 The wax appears as a brownish layer placed on top
of gilding, which covers a paint layer of pink madder lake (fig. A:27). A thin section of the sample
shows that the wax was originally applied on top of the gilding and paint layers, meaning that the
328
Plin. HN. 35.122.
Plin. HN. 21.83, 35.149.
330
Vitr. De Arch., 7. 9.3.
331
Freccero 2000, 106-107.
332
Jenkins and Middleton 1988; Kakoulli 2009, 35.
333
Bourgeoise 2014A, p. 197, fig. 7-10; Bourgeoise 2014B and 2014C.
334
Marconi 2011, 150-151; Abbe 2015, 176.
335
Abbe 2015, 176.
336
The identification of the wax was based on examination by FT-IR (for detailed description of the method see
Appendixone). The FT-IR spectrum showed similarities to calcium carbonate, silicates and beeswax; probably without
the fatty acid. The absence of the fatty acid may suggest the use of Punic wax, but this is mainly speculative and should
be supported by further testing. Sargent and Therkildsen 2009, 14. See also http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/36.
329
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wax was not used as a binding medium for the painting of the portrait but as a coating applied
afterwards.
A1.5: Applying the paint. Paint mixtures and layering techniques
Once the paint components were mixed and ready for application, the craftsmen would have used
specialized tools for their application: in the case of wax-based paint mixtures the craftsmen would
use spatulas (cestrum) or special brushes; in the case of tempera paint mixtures, the craftsmen
would use mainly brushes. The best preserved tools used by the antique painters are found in Egypt
and the Near Eastern cultures and predate the Roman Empire.337
Hue, saturation, tone and brightness of pigments and paint layers
The pigments used by Roman craftsmen could be mixed in multiple ways offering a wide range of
different colour properties. It should therefore be emphasised that a few scattered pigments, in most
instances, are only fragments of a once complex combination of several pigments creating a variety
of chromatic values.
This is demonstrated by the results from examinations of Egyptian mummy portraits and Roman
wall painting from the NCG. Results from VIL imaging of the above mentioned mummy portrait of
a young woman (fig. A:17C)and of the a painting depicting a satyr show that Egyptian blue
pigments were commonly used for indicating human skin of varying nuances (fig. A:28).338 The
Egyptian blue pigments are not visually recognisable as blue-hued grains but were used in the paint
mixtures for altering the tonal values of the skin paint. Further results from VIL imaging of a wallpainting representing a dancing maenad indicate an extensive use of Egyptian blue in the
colouration of the dress of the female figure (fig. A:29).339 But when seen with the naked eye, the
dress appears a low saturated, pale blue colohueur, suggesting that the Egyptian blue pigment was
mixed with white pigments in order to exploit and alter the colour properties of the pigment grains
to obtain a different visual effect. The same is the case of the use of madder lake on the mummy
portrait of a young woman, where the saturated pink madder lake pigment was altered in the applied
paint mixture which sought a more greyish tonal value and less saturated pink hue (fig. A:17).
337
See Robins 2008, 24-29; Nagel 2014.
Østergaard 1996, 250 cat. No. 156.
339
Østergaard 1996, 251 cat. No. 157.
338
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Knowledge on the original intended visual effects of two-thousand year old applied paint mixtures
is therefore difficult if not impossible to fix. Pigments fade and alter over time from many different
reasons: some because they are ‘suicidal’ in nature; others because they originally were intermixed
with other pigments.340 Pigment grains were applied by the Roman craftsmen in complex paint
mixtures, which were manipulated and layered to obtain desired visual colour effects which
exploited the properties of the individual pigments. The natural properties of the grains were
therefore – in different variations and to different extents – de-materialized once they were mixed
and applied onto the intended surface.
Paint layers
When there is enough remaining paint preserved on the Roman marble sculptures, a sample for a
cross-section with the purpose of analysing the stratigraphy and compositions of the applied layers
can be extracted. It is, however, impossible to say with certainty whether or not the remaining paint
layers on the sculptures represent the final and total number of originally applied layers. Most
painted marble sculptures could have been reused and repainted more than once.341 Scholars will
therefore have to seek a thorough definition of the stratigraphy of the paint layers they examine.
However, defining whether or not the weathered and fragmented paint layers, and even less so
scattered pigment grains, on marble surfaces constitute the first, second, third or twentieth layer is
therefore a complicated task. Throughout this dissertation paint remains are presented and discussed
based on what is preserved and not what may be lacking. In this section some of the welldocumented remains of paint layers on portrait and ideal heads are highlighted, while the discussion
of the visual impact of such layering techniques are dealt with in detail in sections B and C.
The so-called Treu Head (dating to the second century CE) has been thoroughly examined (fig.
A:30).342 It has extensive remains of original paint both in the hair and on the skin, which has been
thoroughly analysed. The skin colour consists of several paint layers mixing pigments of calcium
340
From a review of a Van Gogh exhibition in the Metropolitan Museum in New York:
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/22/arts/design/review-van-gogh-irises-and-roses-sheds-light-on-a-disappearing-redhue.html?_r=0
341
Bourgeoise 2014C. I shall return to the topic of maintenance of painted marble surfaces in B6.2. On re-sculpting
Roman sculpture and portraiture in general, see Hannestad 1994; Varner 2004; Prusac 2011.
342
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010; Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014.
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carbonate, red ochre, yellow ochre, carbon black and Egyptian blue (fig. A:31,A).343 The skin tone
layers were applied with an average thickness measuring 70 μm, while the highlights –mainly
composed by calcium carbonate- measures 10 μm (A:31,B).344 The highlights were applied beneath
as well as on top the skin paint causing a certain translucent visual effect of the fully covering paint
layers and thereby incorporating the natural properties of the white marble underneath. 345 The
painted skin consisted of a mixture of red and brown ochre, carbon black, Egyptian blue and white
gypsum. In some areas are preserved subsequent thin layers of white calcite, applied on top of the
skin paint, perhaps functioning as highlights.346
In the hair more paint layers were applied which primarily consist of mixtures of red and yellow
ochres on top of dark underdrawings (A:32). The application of layers in the hair indicates that the
craftsman would return to the same areas more than once. The red and yellow layers are, for
example, applied both beneath and above the carnation layer, meaning that the painter indicated the
hair before painting the flesh tones and then returned to accentuate the hair locks once the skin
colour had been applied (fig. A:32,C).347 The paint mixtures used for the head were several,
indicating that the craftsman sought a life-like representation of real human skin and hair by
exploiting the different colour values and hues of the pigments.
Cross section from the well-preserved paint layers on both skin and hair on a female ideal head
from Aphrodisias, suggest similar painting techniques as those observed on the Treu Head (fig.
(A:33).348 The face has received a thorough cleaning removing almost the entire original surface,
but small areas on the cheeks and chin were left untouched. Samples were extracted from these
areas, which contained remarkably well-preserved layers of skin paint and examinations of the
cross-sections revealed two, opaque and very thinly applied paint layers underneath a layer of
encrustations.
The bottom layer of skin was measured to be 20 μ thick, and consisted of mixture of yellow and red
ochre, which was applied directly on the marble surface (fig. A:34). On top of this layer was a red
layer measuring 5 μ. Combined with the white (perhaps high-gloss polished) luminous marble base,
the optical effect of the two, extremely thin, paint layers was a pinkish skin tone (fig. A:35). The
343
Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014, 163.
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 44.
345
Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014, 163. However, Koch-brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann seem to disagree on the
observation that the painted skin of the Treu Head was meant to be translucent. Koch-brinkmann, Piening and
Brinkmann 2014, 148. I shall return to this in chapter 2.
346
Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014, 148.
347
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 51.
348
Johansen 1995A, 208-209; Therkildsen 2012. See also: http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/106#.
344
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painting of the hair was, unlike the two thinly applied layers of the skin paint, done with several
opaque layers of paint mixtures. Black together with Egyptian blue was used for the ground in the
drilled recesses of the voluminous hair locks, with layers of red and yellow on top, and sometimes
leaf gold for final highlights. Like what was documented on the Treu Head, the several layers
testifies to a painting technique, where the painter would have returned to the same areas more than
once. The blonde-/red painted hair of the Aphrodisian woman was furthermore given highlights in
the form of thin layers of gold leaf.349
Mixing binding media
There are examples of ancient painting on stone sculptures and monuments which show that the
ancient craftsmen would mix the different binders agents for various reasons. On a funerary kline
from tomb 1 in Amphipolis, examinations of six samples, extracted from its preserved paint layers
in different locations, proved an original tempera application technique using egg and animal glue
as binding media; both separate as well as mixed together (fig. A:36).350 In this case the different
uses of binding media for the paint applications indicate that the craftsmen either used the binders to
secure the adhesiveness of the paint layers (using for example egg yolk for the paint mixture, but
covered by a layer of animal glue as extra adhesive); or to obtain a certain optical effect (applying
the animal glue on top of the egg-based paint layers to obtain a particular glossy effect).351
Results from examinations of selected mummy portraits, originating from Egypt and dating to the
first and second centuries CE, in the Nationalmuseum in Stockholm, showed that the binders
(mainly wax and/or egg) were used in numerous ways.352 The majority of the portraits were painted
using mainly wax as binder, applying the paint layers on different grounders from either gypsum
and /or beeswax. But three of the portraits were painted with a mixture of binders, which in the
initial, visual examinations were identified as tempera-techniques due to visible brush strokes.353
However, examinations proved that the binders were made from saponified wax (Punic wax): the
349
Therkildsen 2012, 45-63.
Brecoulaki et al. 2006, 310.
351
Brecoulaki et al. 2006, 310.
352
Freccero 2000.
353
Based on the initial investigations including 27 portraits, eight were chosen to be examined in depth. Of these eight
portraits five were painted using primarily wax (one of them on a gesso preparation, two of them on primers consisting
of beeswax); two of them using saponified wax (Punic wax) on grounders of either gypsum or beeswax, while the
remaining three portraits were painted using a tempera-wax. Freccero 2000, 106-107.
350
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pigments were dissolved in diluted wax emulsions, instead of water, resulting in a paint mixture,
which could be applied with a brush.
The scarce evidence obtained from analysing the archaeological material suggests that mixing
binders was commonly practiced by ancient craftsmen. However, results from analysis of painted
marble sculptures, have, so far, not been able to either support or dismiss such a theory. It should be
kept in mind that the artistic sequences of painting on marble sculptures would have been as
numerous as the number of workshops throughout the Roman Empire, and concluding on one
uniformly applicable painting technique is therefore not possible. Presumably, the most successful
workshops of the Roman craftsmen would have been active for generations, following and
developing certain traditional stylistic trademarks of execution (see the Introduction). But the
workshops would also have accumulated their own individual techniques of both mixing and
applying the paint layers to obtain specific visual results, that made them particularly popular within
the competitive field of producing painted marble sculptures.
Different binders could therefore have been applied for a multiple of reasons, on which we can only
speculate. Some may have been applied for purely visual effects to obtain certain aesthetic appeals.
Others may have been applied because they were merely available. Others again, would have been
determined by the nature of surface texturing of the marble.
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CHAPTER 2
Other materials used for polychrome portraiture
Having explored the white marbles, and what recent research has been able to reveal –so far – on
the techniques used by the Roman craftsmen to provide them with a polychrome finish, the
dissertation will now explore the other polychrome sculptural materials, including metals (in
particular bronze), coloured stones (different marble types, granites, porphyry and greywacke),
limestone (a variety of the white marble stone), terracotta, wax and wood (which are rarely
preserved). The different materials used for Roman portraiture offered different ways of visual
expressions, both creatively and aesthetically.
This section will provide an introduction to the different sculptural materials presented according to
modern categorizations and in random order. Modern day scholars have traditionally approached
the materials separately by dividing and defining them according to their diachronically different
natural origins, and as such, this section will present each individual material and their polychrome
properties.
A2.1: Metals
The category of metals includes gold, silver and bronze. Sculptures and portraits made from gold
and silver were rare compared to those of bronze during the Roman Empire, and primarily reserved
for monumental statuary dedicated within public and religious spaces such as the forum, basilicas
and temples.354 Both silver and gold were extravagant materials, and when used for portrait
statuary, their natural polychrome properties communicated powerful social, cultural and religious
values. It is difficult to say how frequently portraits were made from gold and silver, as most of
them have been melted down in later times.355
The natural polychrome properties of gold, in particular, but also of silver, seem to have been
associated with the divine during the early Roman Empire.356 When used for honorific statuary, the
materials therefore bore strong connotations of immortality, which may have been the reason why
354
Fejfer 2008, 165.
For a list of portraits made from gold and silver, which have survived until today, see Fejfer 2008, 166-167.
356
Lahusen 1999, 106; Fejfer 2008, 166; Lapatin 2015, 19-20.
355
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Emperors often graciously declined them.357 In Res Gestae Augustus specifically notes how he had
numerous silver statues – of himself – taken down from public places in eighty different towns.358
Gold occurs naturally in Thrace, Asia Minor, Egypt and Spain and must be mined or sieved through
many hours of labour.359 The Romans exploited these natural resources, but Latin authors (above all
Pliny the Elder) take great pride in emphasizing how the Romans of the Republican periods had no
particular need for this precious material.360
Gold is incorruptible and its visual effects bring a shine and warm lustre associated with the sun,
and its rarity lends prestige to those who possesses it.361 Statues made from gold were cast using the
same techniques as those used for producing statues of bronze (see below).362 Very few golden
statues have survived from the Roman Empire. The most well-known use of gold in the
archaeological record is therefore gilding (see above).
While gold was associated with the sun, silver was associated with the moon.363 Silver was during
the Roman Empire a popular material for extravagant tableware, large vessels and decorative plates,
particularly in first centuries BCE and CE, which are found spread out all over the Empire and
beyond.364
Copper alloys: bronze
Generally, the majority of copper alloys are today primarily referred to by using the term bronze.
When melted down and added tin and lead, the copper produces a stronger and harder material than
any other metals.365 During the Roman Empire bronze, together with the white marbles, was the
most commonly used material for Roman statues, sculptures and portraiture.366 Until the first
century BCE, bronze was the most preferred sculptural material (together with limestone and
terracotta, see A2.3 and A2.4), and in particular favoured by the Roman nobility for life-sized
portrait statues.367 The tradition of producing statues of bronze can be traced back to Etruscan
357
Fejfer 2008, 166.
Res Gestae Divi Augustus, 24. Fejfer 2008, 166.
359
Hirt 2010, 32-47.
360
Lapatin 2015, 29.
361
Lapatin 2015, 19-20.
362
Lapatin 2015, 33.
363
Lapatin 2015, 34.
364
Lapatin 2015, 37-41.
365
Mattusch 2014, 21.
366
Fejfer 2008, 157-163; Lahusen 2010, 58; “It is difficult to imagine the clutter of bronze statuary in the city of
Rome.” Mattusch 2014, 144
367
Pollini 2007, 257.
358
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cultures, of which some were particularly skilled in making bronze items that were in demand
throughout the Mediterranean and beyond.368
Bronze statues were cast from moulds taken from models made in wax or terracotta (fig. A:37).369
This is called the ‘lost wax’ method and could be performed in different varieties.370 Wax, terracotta
and bronze therefore remained closely interlinked, and it has been suggested by scholars that wax
combined with bronze was the cause for the development of the stylistically characteristic Roman
veristic portraiture in, approximately, the fourth century BCE.371
Bronze was a highly valued material in the Republican as well as Imperial periods, and remained so
while others decreased in popularity (terracotta and limestone) or increased (white marble) rapidly
in use. In Naturalis Historia Pliny the Elder notes that certain types of bronze were valued above
silver and gold, referring specifically to bronze statues and items produced in Corinth, Greece. 372
He also notes that ‘(…) the art of bronze statuary (…)’ in his own time (middle/late first century
CE) ‘(…) flourished to an extent passing all limits (...)’.373 Furthermore Pliny the Elder seems to
particularly associate bronze with honorific portrait statuary but notes that portrait sculptures in
bronze were put on display in other contexts as well, such as private houses and sanctuaries.374
Today the majority of all these bronze statues, which in Roman times inhabited the domestic,
religious, recreational and official spaces, have been destroyed mainly for reuse purposes.
The visual appearances of bronze statues seem to have been diverse. Bronze compounds vary
greatly in compositions according to the amounts of tin and lead which are added to the melted
copper: bronzes with a high percentage of tin will appear as visually paler than bronzes with a high
amount of copper.375 Pliny the Elder also notes that Cypriot copper could be added a certain amount
of lead to obtain a purple colour.376
Bronze sculptures were given a broad variety of polychrome enhancements, not only through
manipulation of the copper mixtures but also from externally applied sources. Most commonly
368
Pollini 2007, 257.
Langland 1999, 100-113.
370
Langland 1999, 120-133; Pollini 2007, 258; Bewer 2012, 25-26; Mattusch 2014, 55-57, fig. 33.
371
Pollini 2007, 258.
372
Plin. HN. 34.1. That Corinth should have produced especially valued bronze items is supported by a passage in
Petronicus’ Satyricon, where Trimalchio boasts of having one Corinthian tableware in his possession. Mattusch 2014,
22-23.
373
Plin. HN. 34. 35, (translated by Rackham, Loeb 1995).
374
Plin. HN. 34. 11-18. Fejfer 2008, 158; Lahusen 2010, 59; Abbe 2015, 182.
375
Mattusch 2014, 25.
376
Plin. HN. 34.98. Mattusch discusses this particular note by Pliny: were the ancientbronze-production techniques
really able to include as broad chromatic scales as suggested by Pliny? Or, was Pliny mistaken and taken what may in
fact have been painted colours for the natural material properties of the metal alloys? See Mattusch 2014, 25-26.
369
80
observed in the archaeological material are the polychrome surface treatments made by alloys
(produced by tin, copper, lead and sometimes zinc), but scarce evidence also suggests that paintmixtures may have been applied to some extent as well.377 Inlays of metal (copper, silver and tin)
used for eyelashes and lips are also commonly observed in the archaeological material, as well as
coloured stones and glass for, in particular, the eyes (fig. B:101, B:102, B:103, B:104).378 Providing
bronze sculptures with gilded surfaces seems also to have been common practice in the Roman
Republic and Imperial periods.379 From inscriptions we know that gilded metal statues were
awarded to especially deserving citizens – most commonly used for equestrian statues made in
bronze.380
Furthermore, when exposed to organic acids (vinegar, curdled milk, urine and such) some copper
alloys will corrode over time producing the bright greenish Verdigris (see above).381 Whether or not
this deterioration was manipulated and exploited deliberately during the Roman Empire is so far
unknown. However, as verdigris was also produced as a pigment the bright, greenish hue it
produced was a sought-after colour effect.
A2.2: Coloured stones
Coloured stones covers a broad group of sculptural materials covering a wide range of different
stone types, including coloured limestone and marbles, granite, porphyry, greywacke and basalt,
which differ in mineralogical and visual signatures. While coloured marbles are calcite
compositions, the granites, greywacke, basalts and porphyries are richer in silicate and quartz
making them harder to work into sculpted forms, visually more homogenous in hue and saturation
and generally more durable.382
The coloured stones were quarried in Asia Minor, Greece, northern Africa and Egypt (fig. A:1).
Coloured marbles were first imported to Rome in the late Republican period mainly for
architectural elements and monumental constructions.383 Coloured stones from Egypt, such as
377
Born 2003; Descamps-Lequime 2006; Lahusen 2010, fig. 2.15; Formigli 2013A; Abbe 2015, 183.
Lahusen 2006; Lahusen 2010, fig. 2.16 and 2.17; Formigli 2013A; Mattusch 2014, 26 and 88 fig. 65.
379
Lahusen 1999; Østergaard 2008, 54-55; Lahusen 2010, 73-75, fig. 2.21, 2.23, 2.24, 2.25, 2.26 and 2.27; Mattusch
2014, 26-27.
380
Lahusen 1999; Fejfer 2008, 167-168.
381
Eastaugh, Walsh, Chaplin and Siddall 2004, 385.
382
Anderson 1990, 11.
383
Schneider 1986, 144; Anderson 1990, 12-13; Pensabene 2002,3-4. Plutarch mentions that that a victory monument
made from coloured and gilded marbles was set up on the Capitoline Hill by King Bocchus I of Mauretania in 91 BCE
378
81
granite, greywacke, basalt and porphyry were imported to Rome after the incorporation of Egypt
following the battle of Actium (31 BCE).384 Most of the quarries of the rare, polychrome stones
were under control of the Roman nobility in the Late Republic and later of the Emperors of
Rome.385
Although the group of coloured stones covers many different polychrome and material properties,
they are dealt with here as a group because they share a common history of consumption: they were
quarried, exported and consumed for sculptural and architectural purposes in Rome and Italy
because of their natural polychromy. The coloured stones provided a range of vivid colour effects,
spanning in hue from yellow, red, green, purple/violet to black. The natural colour effects were
adjusted, textured and polished in various ways by the craftsmen of the Roman Empire creating
dynamic polychrome compositions. They were on a whole rather expensive, and represented a
certain degree of luxuria primarily associated with the elite communities of Egypt, Asia Minor and
later of Rome as well.386 During the first two centuries CE, the coloured stones, reaching an all-time
high in the second century CE, were primarily used for architectural elements and rarely for
sculptural purposes,387 and even less so for portraits.388
General knowledge concerning quarrying and distributing sculptures and architectural monuments
made from different polychrome stones comes from archaeological evidence and written sources.
Pliny the Elder lists a range of coloured stones, naming them by their geographic origins, which
scholars have been able to match with finds from excavations across the Mediterranean. Most
coloured stones have been scientifically examined and categorized according to their geological
signatures and patterns of distribution.389Some of the most popularly used coloured stones during
the Roman Empire (which will matter to the discussions of the remaining parts of this chapter, as
well as chapters 2 and 3) are dealt with in groups below, categorized according to the hues of their
polychrome properties: black/grey, red, yellow, green and purple.
to honor Sulla (Plutarch, Sulla, book 6. See Sehlmeyer 1999, 194-196). For more examples on coloured stones used for
public monuments in late Republican Rome, see Schneider 1986, 144-149.
384
Anderson 1990, 14-15; Fejfer 2008, 168-169; Bradley 2009B, 203.
385
Pensabene 1999, 58-61; Mariottini, Curti and Moscetti 2009, 486-487. The Columnarium law was a tax imposed by
Caesar onto the consumption of columns made from different types of marbles. Cicero mentions the tax in one of his
letters to Atticus (Cicero, Ad Atticus, Epistle VI. Mariottini, Curti and Moscetti 2009, 486-487).
386
Anderson 1990, 13; Fejfer 2008, 168-169; Bradley 2009B, 89-93.
387
On coloured marbles used for sculptures of defeated enemies of Rome, see: Schneider 1988; Schneider 1990.
388
Fejfer 2008, 168-169; Abbe 2015, 180.
389
In general, see Lazzarini 2009.
82
Black/greystones: Bigi Morati and Neri Antichi, Africano, Göktepe and dark granites
The terms Bigi Morati and Neri Antichi are modern Italian terms that cover a broad spectrum of
coloured stones gravitating towards hues of grey and black.390 Their material properties range in
compositions from those of limestone types to hard marbles, which are able to take a high-gloss
polish. Their polychrome properties range from greyish/black backgrounds with white speckles or
veins to compact, uniform and saturated black stones. Most Bigi Morati and Neri Antichi marbles
were pre-dominantly used for architectural decorative elements, including columns, pavements and
wall-plates and are rarely observed in sculptural products.391
Black stones were quarried in several areas of the Mediterranean including the Greek island of
Chios and Tunisia in Northern Africa.392 In order to determine the geological origin of black stones
when used for architectural and sculptural purposes in other regions scientific archeometric analysis
is required.393 Only few of the black stones used during the Roman Empire have been securely
identified according to their Latin terms, including the so-called Africano and Göktepe.
Africano was quarried at Teos in Asia Minor (fig. A, 1,1).394 Its sedimentary origin classifies the
stone as a marble able to take a polish.395 It is described by Pliny the Elder as marmorlucullum; the
marble introduced to Rome by Lucius Lucullus.396 Africano is speckled and has visible white and
sometimes red veins or speckles on backgrounds of black and grey. It was primarily exploited for
architectural purposes and rarely for sculptural products.397 In portraiture it appears as a material
used for herm shafts (see fig. B:4, B:5, B:6 and B:7). It was used from the reign of Augustus and till
the age of the Antonines, but apparently the quarrying sites ceased to be active around the middle of
the second century CE.398 However, Africano is mentioned in the Edict of Diocletian, dating to the
390
Brilli et al. 2010, 994.
Cioffarelli 1989A, 65; Candilio 1989, 85;Lazzarini 2009, 464; Brilli et al. 2010, 994.
392
Cioffarelli 1989A, 65; Candilio 1989, 85; Lazzarini 2002, 244; Brilli et al. 2010.
393
Brilli et al. 2010.
394
The geological origins of Africano have been much debated amongst scholars: Balance 1966; Di Leo 1989, 49;
Dworakowska 1990; Lazzarini 2002, 250.
395
Lazzarini 2002, 250-251; Lazzarini 2009, 463.
396
Plin. HN. 36.49. This identification of what Pliny calls ‘Lucullean marble’ as being Africano has been much debated
by scholars, but is today largely accepted. Di Leo 1989A, 49; Lazzarini 2002, 250.
397
Di Leo 1989A, 49.
398
An inscription from Ostia, dating to ca. 162 CE, is the latest evidence we have of Africano marble being imported to
Rome. Di Leo 1989A, 49.
391
83
early fourth century CE, which most likely refers to re-used marble.399 Archaeological evidence
suggests that Africano was mainly used in Italy and rarely in other parts of the Empire.400
Black stones from Göktepe were quarried at Göktepe in modern day Turkey (fig. A:1,C).401 The site
produced fine-grained and compact marbles of both white and black, which were used both
separately and together in sculptural products. The Göktepe quarry is a relatively new discovery402,
but results from analysis of the black sculptures found at the Villa of Hadrian suggest that is was
widely imported and exploited in Italy.403
Black and grey granites (including diorites and granodiorites) were quarried in different regions of
the Empire including Italy (the islands of Sardinia and Elba), Asia Minor (Cigri Dag near Ezine)
and Egypt (Aswan, Gebel Fatireh and Wadi Fawakhir) (fig. A:1,2).404 The quarrying sites which
produced the stone most frequently utilised for architectural and sculptural purposes in Rome were
located at Aswan, where the Imperially controlled site of Mons Claudianus was situated.405 The site
was actively exploited for Roman purposes from the reign of Claudius and produced a uniform,
grey/black granodiorite exported only to Rome.406 The quarry which delivered the majority of
grey/black granites to the rest of Italy was on Elba.407
In general the black granites are hard stones which vary in grain sizes and content of quartz: the
more quartz, the harder the stone.408 The granites (together with the red, green and purple types
explained below) are the most durable types of coloured stone and will resist exposure to the
elements the longest compared to limestone and marbles.409 Because of this the grey/black granites
were popular in use for Roman monumental decorative elements, including columns and pillars, but
were also (however, not as frequently) used for sculptural purposes.410
The grey/black granites were traditionally exploited by the Egyptians from the early Dynastic
periods.411 However, they were not used by Greek or Middle Eastern cultures, suggesting that the
399
Di Leo 1989A, 49.
Its presence has been attested in Gaul (Orange and Arles) and Asia Minor (Ephesus and Pergamum); in much less
quantity, however, than in Roma and Italy. Di Leo 1989, 49.
401
Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 217.
402
Discovered by A.B Yavuz in 1996. Attanasio, Bruno, Yavuz and Elci 2008, 217.
403
Lapuente, Nogales, León, Royo and Preite-Martinez 2012.
404
For more information on the individual sites, see: Galetti, Lazzarini and Maggetti 1992, 167; Bruno 2002, 283;
Williams-Thorpe 2010.
405
Pasqua 1989A, 79; Williams-Thorpe 2008, 78-80; Hirt 2010, 12-16.
406
Fant 1993, 150; Hirt 2010, 12.
407
Williams-Thorpe 2008, 80.
408
Rich 1974, 214; Anderson 1990, 11; Nicholson and Shaw 2000, 35.
409
Rich 1974, 214.
410
Galetti, Lazzarini and Maggetti 1992, 167;Williams-Thorpe 2010.
411
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 36.
400
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values associated with the characteristic stones during the Roman Empire were closely connected to
Egyptian culture and craft traditions.412
Red stones: Portasanta, Rosso Antico and red granites
Portasanta was quarried at Chios (fig. A:1,3). It varies in its material properties but is recognized as
a marble, due to its ability to take a high-gloss, and covers many reddish hues from speckled with
white and pink veins to uniform in visual appearance. The quarries at Chios closed during the
Byzantine Empire, but were rediscovered in the 18th century. It was widely exploited by the
Romans from the first century BCE and onwards throughout the Empire and particularly for
workshops in Italy.413 It was commonly applied in architectural decorations (particularly columns)
and less so for sculptural products.414
Rosso Antico was quarried in the regions of the lower Peloponnese in Greece (fig. A:1,4).415 It is a
fine-grained and compact marble stone ranging in hues from low saturated reds to saturated red and
purple. It appears visually uniform with white calcite speckles or veins. Rosso Antico was used for
various decorative purposes in Greek cultures since the Bronze Age.416
Rosso Antico was introduced to Rome and Italy during the Late Republican periods. From the first
century CE and onwards, it was commonly used to decorate walls and pavements as well as
cornices and capitals.417 But it was also widely applied for sculptural purposes, depicting in
particular Dionysus, Heracles, centaurs, small busts and caryatids, since the first century BCE and
increased rapidly in use during the first century CE.418 Rosso Antico was used for decorative,
architectural purposes till the sixth century CE.419
Red granites were primarily quarried in Egypt between the city of Aswan and the el-Shellal district
to the South (fig. A:1,5).420 The red granites resemble the grey/black ones in material properties (see
above) but range in hues of red and pink. Use of red and pink granites can be dated back to the
Early Dynastic periods in Egypt, and was exploited by the Romans after the annexation of Egypt in
412
Galetti, Lazzarini and Maggetti 1992, 167.
Lazzarini 2009, 476, fig. 19.
414
Lazzarini 2009, 464.
415
Cioffarelli 1989D, 95.
416
It was used for decorating the Treasury of Athens at Mycenae. Cioffarelli 1989D, 95
417
Rosso Antico has been identified as used for veneering the walls of the Temple of Concord and the pavements of
Domus Tiberiana. In Pompeii it has been identified in the building of Eumachia and in private houses as well (Casa
dell’Efebo). In Ostia it is also identified as decorative element in pavements. Cioffarelli 1989D, 95.
418
Cioffarelli 1989D, 95.
419
Cioffarelli 1989D, 95.
420
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 35.
413
85
31 BCE.421 Augustus carried with him two obelisks of red granite to Rome and the red granites may
therefore have been the first Egyptian stones to be introduced in Rome.422 After the stone was
introduced to Rome, it became distributed throughout Italy.423
Yellow stones: Giallo Antico
Giallo Antico was quarried in the hills surrounding Chemtou in modern day Tunesia (Roman
Numidia) (fig. A:1,6).424 It is classified as a marble due to its sedimentary origin and ability to take
a high gloss polish, and has a compact and calcareous property, ranging in hues from dark yellow to
ivory.425 Pliny the Elder describes Giallo Antico using the term marmoris Numidici.426 He later
notes that the ‘Numidian marble’ was introduced to Rome by Marcus Lepidus in 78 BCE, who used
it to decorate the door sills of his private house, adding that he was sharply criticized for this.427
Giallo Antico was extensively used from the late first century BCE and throughout the first and
second centuries CE. It was widely applied for architectural, decorative purposes, including
columns and pavements.428 This is noted by Pliny as an element of luxuria during the reign of Nero,
when ‘(…) a plan was discovered to give variety to uniformity by inserting markings that were not
present in the embossed marble surface, so that Numidian stone might show oval lines and that
Synnadic marble be picked out with purple, just as fastidious luxury would have liked them to be by
nature.’429 Giallo Antico was also used for sculptures depicting gods and goddesses and barbarians,
but rarely used for portraits. During the second century CE the use of Giallo Antico reached its all
time peak, not only in Italy but also in other areas of the Empire.430 It seems to have been
particularly favoured by Hadrian and was widely applied in his villas at Tivoli and Antium, and in
the decoration of the Pantheon in Rome.431
421
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 36.
Lazzarini 2002, 229.
423
Fant 1993.
424
Cioffarelli 1989C, 73; Lazzarini 2002, 244.
425
Cioffarelli 1989C, 73; Lazzarini 2002, 243-244.
426
Pliny the Elder, HN, 5.22.
427
Pliny the Elder, HN, 36.49. Ciofarelli 1989C, 73; Lazzarini 2002, 244.
428
Cioffarelli 1989C, 73-74.
429
Plin., HN, 35.3.
430
Giallo Antico was used both for sculpture and architectural decorations during the second century CE in Carthage,
Thysdrus, Leptis Magna (Libya), Utica and even Palmyra. For more on the wide distribution of Giallo Antico see
Ciofarelli 1989C, 74.
431
Pausanias furthermore notes how Hadrian gave one hundred columns made from Giallo Antico to Athens and twenty
two columns to Smyrna (Pausanias, 1.18.9). Cioffarelli 1989C, 74
422
86
Due to the demand for Giallo Antico during the first, and in particular the second centuries CE, the
quarrying sites were systematically exploited and under Imperial control.432 Before Augustus seized
control over the site, it may have been controlled by Republican noble families testifying to its
economic prosperity.433 Archaeological evidence suggest that the control and systematic
exploitation of the marble quarry in Chemtou ceased sometime around the early third century CE,
and any use of the stone hereafter is reuse.434 In Diocletian’s Price Edict Giallo Antico ranges as the
second-most expensive polychrome stone, together with parvonazetto (the first being porphyry)
(both see below).435 It continued in use well into Late Antiquity and appears as decorative
architectural elements from sixth century Constantinople.436
Green stones: Serpentine, Basalt and Greywacke
Serpentine was extracted in the Eastern desert of Egypt at Wadi Hammamat and Wadi Umm Esh
(fig. A:1,7).437 The only preserved ancient quarry is, however, the one at Wadi Umm Esh and this
does not predate the Roman Empire. But serpentine stones were widely distributed throughout the
Eastern desert in Pharaonic periods as well.438 It is a hydrated magnesium silicate and has a greyish
green hue with veins and speckles of black hues.439 It was mostly used for small-scale products such
as vessels, amulets and sculptures.
Basalt is a general term covering the hard greenish and brown/black stones quarried several places
in Egypt during the Roman Empire (fig. A:1,8).440 The stones vary greatly in geological
composition, dependent on where they are quarried, the most famous being the green greywacke
from Wadi Hammamat (see below).441 The basalts were primarily used for sculptural productions
and utensils and vases and less for architectural purposes. Import of Egyptian basalt to Rome was
extensive during the first century CE but declined during the reign of Hadrian for reasons unknown:
432
Cioffarelli 1989C, 73; Lazzarini 2002, 244.
Cioffarelli 1989C, 73.
434
A shipwreck dating to 250 CE and found at Camarina carried Giallo Antico columns, suggesting that the trade of the
marble continued, but whether this was freshly quarried or re-use has not been established. Furthermore Giallo Antico
continues to appear in architectural decorations throughout the third and fourth centuries in the cities of Ostia
(pavements) and Rome (the Mithraeum below the S. Prisca). Cioffarelli 1989C, 74-75.
435
Cioffarelli 1989C, 75.
436
Cioffarelli 1989C, 75.
437
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 56; Lazzarini 2002, 240. The quarry site is still active today. Brown and Harrell
1995, 225.
438
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 56.
439
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 56.
440
Di Leo 1989B, 56; Nicholson and Shaw 2000, 23-24.
441
Di Leo 1989B, 56; Johansen 1994, 152-153 (cat. No. 64); Pasqua 2007.
433
87
the quarry was not exhausted and the skills for extracting or handling the stones did not disappear,
so the decline in use may be ascribed to a change in taste.442 Around the same time, dark marbles
quarried in Asia Minor seemed to flourish (including Göktepe; see above).
Greywacke was quarried in Egypt in the regions of Wadi Hammamat, not far from Luxor (fig.
A:1,9).443 It is a type of basalt with a high level of quartz, and because of this it is difficult to
carve.444 It has a dark greenish hue and is uniform in visual appearance. Pliny the Elder describes
greywacke using the name basaniten.445 He notes how the stone – both in colour and hardness –
resembles iron.
Greywacke was used for sculptural purposes by the Egyptians depicting Gods and kings such as the
portrait of Amenemhat III (fig. A:38).446 This tradition was followed (however radically decreased)
by the Ptolemaic kings during the Hellenistic periods, and from the time of Augustus greywacke
was used for portraits of the Emperor and his family as well (A:39).447 Although greywacke has
been used for millennia before the Roman Empire, archaeological evidence suggest that it was not
systematically quarried before the reign of Augustus.448 From the late first century BCE, and until at
least the third century CE, greywacke was intensively quarried and exported to Rome.449 During the
first and second centuries CE, greywacke was predominantly used for sculptures and portraits. Most
of the preserved sculptures depict gods, athletes and animals, while the portraits depict emperors
(primarily Augustus) and their family.450
Purple stones: Pavonazetto and porphyry
Pavonazetto was quarried at Dokimeion (as the white fine-grained Afyon marble mentioned above)
(fig. A:1, D).451 It classifies as a white, nearly transparent, marble with characteristic visible veins
and speckles ranging in hues of grey, brown and purple.452 The marble was most likely introduced
during the reign of Augustus according to the written testimony of Strabo (late first century BCE/
442
De Leo 1989B, 59.
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 57; Pasqua 2007, 151, fig. 1.
444
Pasqua 2007, 152.
445
Plin., HN, 36.58. Pasqua 2007, 152.
446
Jørgensen 1996, 168 (cat. No. 68).
447
Di Leo 1989B, 56; Pasqua 2007, 152-153.
448
Pasqua 2007, 153.
449
Pasqua 2007, 153.
450
Pasqua 2007, 154-157.
451
Pasqua 1989, 93.
452
Pasqua 1989, 93.
443
88
early first century CE.453 It flourished in use in the second century CE and was primarily employed
for architectural purposes, but remained popular in use during the following centuries. According to
the Diocletian’s Price Edict, it ranged among the most expensive stones of the fourth century CE,
together with Giallo Antico (see above), only rivalled by the purple porphyry (see below).454
Pavonazetto was widely used for different purposes including decorative architectural elements
(columns, pavements, plaques and mosaics), sarcophagi (a particular type produced at the site of
quarrying) and sculptures (fig. A:40).455 When the use of marbles from Dokimeion peaked in the
second and third centuries CE, sculptors were working on the quarrying site, rough-hewing the
commissions to be completed in the workshops at Rome.456
Purple Porphyry was quarried at Mons Porphyrites, a mountain located in the Eastern parts of the
Egyptian desert (fig. A:1,10).457 Small-scale Egyptian sculptures suggest that purple porphyry was
used before the annexation of Egypt in 31 BCE.458 The Ptolemies made use of miscellaneous pieces
found in the areas if the mountain for small-scale productions.459 The quarry became systematically
exploited by the Romans from somewhere around the first century CE to the fifth century, and
exported to workshops in Rome and Italy.460
Quarrying of the stone seems to have been strictly controlled. Excavations at the site have
uncovered several fortified quarrying sites with administration centres including quarters for
soldiers protecting the venture, as well as villages for the workmen (the majority of which were
slaves).461 By the early second century CE, purple porphyry came to be sold on the open market,
which increased demand and therefore also the activities at the site in Egypt.462 It reached its zenith
in use during the reign of Hadrian, but from then on it gradually became a material restricted in use
453
Strabo 12.577; Pasqua 1989, 93.
Pasqua 1989, 93.
455
Pasqua 1989, 93; Moltesen 2002, 310-313, cat. No. 104.
456
Pasqua 1989, 93.
457
Manniche 2013, 23.
458
Del Bufalo 2012, 13-14.
459
The extent to which the Ptolemies made use of the purple porphyry remains debated amongst scholars. In general see
Del Bufalo 2012, 14-19.
460
The first sculptures made from porphyry dates to the reign of Caligula, but the quarries may have been exploited
already during the reign of Tiberius. Maxfield and Peacock 2007, 414; Bradley 2009B, 203; Manniche 2013, 23, 25.
461
Maxfield and Peacock 2007, 414.
462
Maxfield and Peacock 2007, 417-420; Bradley 2009B, 204.
454
89
for Imperial portraiture.463 By the time of Diocletian it was the most expensive stones and reserved
for the emperor’s portraiture.464
Generally purple porphyry was used for sculpture as well as architectural decorative elements
(pavements, columns and capitals in particular).465 Pliny the Elder describes the red/purple porphyry
by using the name leptopsephos.466 He notes that it was introduced to Rome by a man named
Vitrasius Pollio during the reign of Claudius, ‘(…) an innovation that did not meet with much
approval.’467 The majority of the sculptures made from porphyry date to the second century CE
(primarily used for body formats while the heads appears to have been sculpted from another
material and inserted into the body of porphyry), while the majority of portraits date to the late third
and fourth centuries CE. However, as the quarries ceased to be active sometime in the fifth century
CE, we must assume that all sculptures from later periods are resculpted Roman (or Hellenistic)
material, which suggests that the number of purple porphyry sculptural and architectural pieces was
originally much higher. The portrait of Trajan in purple porphyry from the NCG is, for example, a
modern reuse of an ancient porphyry piece (fig. A:41).468
A2.3: Limestone
Limestone is a sedimentary rock composed largely by different crystal forms of calcium
carbonate.469 Limestone often contains variable amounts of silica in the form of chert (chalcedony,
flint, jasper, etc.) or siliceous skeletal fragments (sponge spicules, diatoms, radiolarians), and
varying amounts of clay, silt and sand (terrestrial detritus) carried in by rivers.470 The different types
of limestone are dependent on the geological origin and vary greatly in material properties from soft
(resembling sandstone) to hard.471 Some hard limestone’s are composed by material properties,
which resemble marble, such as elasticity and grains of varying sizes, and may even take a polish;
while other types of limestone, such as travertine, do not consist of grains at all.472
463
Bradley 2009B, 204; Del Bufalo 2012, 24. Purple porphyry was used in several monuments initiated during the reign
of Hadrian, including the temples for Venus and Roma and the Pantheon. Maxfield and Peacock 2007, 419-420;
Manniche 2013, 25-28.
464
Bradley 2009B, 205; Del Bufalo 2012, 26-29; Manniche 2013, 25.
465
See the catalogue provided by Del Bufalo 2012, 85-227.
466
Plin. HN. 36.57.
467
Plin. HN. 36.57.
468
Johansen 1995A, cat. No. 119, p. 282-283; Del Buffalo 2012, H82, 117. The head dates to the 17th or 18th century.
469
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 40.
470
Aston, Harrell and Shaw 2000, 40.
471
Rockwell 1993, 22.
472
Rockwell 1993, 22, 25-26.
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Limestone was a commonly used material for both architectural and sculptural purposes during the
Republican periods, but became gradually replaced during the first century BCE.473 While
sculptures made from limestone appear in relatively small quantities in Rome and its surrounding
areas in the first three centuries CE. Compared to marble and bronze, limestone was applied more
frequently in local contexts of other areas within the Empire.474 In the desert city Palmyra, in
modern day Syria, the majority of sculptural productions were made from local limestone.475 The
limestone was quarried 12 km north of the city and supplied both architectural and sculptural
productions throughout the Imperial periods.476 Although the tools used for sculpting limestone was
the same as the tools used for marbles, the limestone sculptures of Palmyra were sculpted according
to local traditions, providing the portrait sculptures with a distinct, uniform stylistic appearance (fig.
A:26).
The natural colours of limestone types may vary between white, grey, yellow and even pink. 477
Such natural colours can be manipulated much like what can be done with marbles and granite,
especially, the hard limestone which can receive a polish. Impurities (such as clay, sand, organic
remains, iron oxide, and other materials) will cause limestone to exhibit different colours, especially
with weathered surfaces.
As with the white marbles, sculptures made from limestone were also more or less fully covered
with paint. Due to the nature of the stone, being softer and more receptive to watery substances,
limestone sculptures often show substantial remains from original paint layers. The ‘Beauty from
Palmyra’, mentioned above, has extensive remains from its once fully covering polychromy (fig.
A:26).478 It was painted using what appears to have been a tempera technique (most likely using egg
or casein as binder). The skin was given a fully covering paint layer with a yellowish tone and
additional red cheeks and lips. The hair was black, and the veil covering the head was painted red.
On the jewellery, some of which once contained inserted coloured stones or glass, were paint layers
applied directly beneath layers of leaf gold: on the bracelets yellow paint layers were superimposed
layers of leaf gold; while on the necklaces red and pink layers were used as ground beneath the leaf
gold, causing the many layers of jewellery to be visually differentiated (fig. A:27). Results from
473
Fejfer 2008, 163.
For an overview of the identified sites of limestone quarrying and use, see the Stone Quarries Database compiled by
Ben Russell: http://oxrep.classics.ox.ac.uk/databases/stone_quarries_database/
475
Colledge 1976.
476
The hard limestone of highest quality was referred to by using the Greek term parinos, suggesting that the local
limestone of highest quality may have been assimilated with marble from Paros. Colledge 1976, 109.
477
Penny 1993, 112.
478
Ploug 1995, 188-192; Sargent and Therkildsen 2010A, 14. See also: http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/36#
474
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examinations proved no traces of the use of Egyptian blue pigments which is a commonly recurring
pigment on Roman marble statuary (see A1.3). The complete absence of Egyptian blue may
therefore suggest that the limestone sculptures at Palmyra were not only sculpted but also painted
according to local practices. I shall return to this below in Chapter 3.
A2.4: Terracotta
Terracotta covers the large group of sculptural productions made from clay479 and used for
portraiture for all sculptural formats and scales in the Republican and Imperial periods. It was
provided by natural resources occurring in most regions, and in most cultures of the Mediterranean
terracotta was used for both architectural and sculptural purposes long before the Roman Empire.480
The polychromy of terracotta sculptures were provided by layers of paint, using the clay as a
binding agent (explained below)481, but was also – too an extent – defined by the chemical
compositions of the clay itself.482
From the seventh to the first centuries BCE, polychrome terracotta was one of the most popularly
used material for building activities and sculptural purposes in the city of Rome.483 Results from
scientific analysis from terracotta fragments from sculptural decorations of architectural
constructions in Rome, dating to the first century BCE, have revealed the techniques used by the
craftsmen.484 The base form was modelled from clay and left to dry in the open air. Dry-paint
mixtures (pigments mixed with slips of the clay) were added either directly onto the clay ground or
on top of a white ground before being burned in several stages (fig. A:42).485 Finally, finishing
touches such as gilding (see above) or additional paint layers might be applied.486
Terracotta (together with bronze, see above, and wax, see below) has been ascribed to be the
material that fostered the Roman veristic portraits. Using terracotta for portraiture belonged to an
established tradition present in most Italic cultures, dating back to the archaic periods. Its highly
Another term which is also appropriate to use instead of terracotta is ‘coroplastic arts’ which refers to the Greek
craftsmen that were specialized in making them. Erlich 2015, 155.
480
Bookidis 2010, 35-41.
481
Bookidis 2010, 63-67
482
Bookidis 2010, 41-44.
483
Pollini 2007, 257; Fejfer 2008, 177; Zink 2014, 237-238; Erlich 2015, 155; Brøns, Hedegaard and Sargent
forthcoming.
484
Erlich 2015, 157.
485
Zink 2014, 238.
486
Zink 2014, 238.
479
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flexible material properties made it easy to model; also from the face of the deceased.487
Unfortunately only few actual portraits made from terracotta have been preserved, and the majority
date to the late Republican period (fig. A:43).488
During the final century BCE terracotta became gradually replaced by plaster and marble.489 The
production of terracotta continued in Italy throughout the first three centuries CE; however, not as
actively as earlier and with a decreased focus on sculptural products, before they rapidly declined in
the third century CE.490 In the first centuries CE terracotta may have been regarded as a somewhat
traditional material for sculptural productions primarily reserved for religious (votives), domestic
(household cult, decoration, etc.) and funerary (grave goods) purposes.491
A2.5: Wood
Wood was also a material used for Roman sculptures, particularly for acroliths, where parts of the
body (the torso) were executed in wood and pieced together with other materials. In the Roman
Empire woods from both local origin as well as exotic imports were known.492 Depending on its
natural origin the material properties of wood differed.493 Wood was sculpted using most of the
same tools as those used for stone sculpting, and its polychromy was also externally mixed and
applied in both tempera and encaustic tehcniques including gilding.494
In the first century BCE wood was abandoned as the prime material for theatres in Rome in favour
of concrete constructions clad in stone.495 Building theatres in stone was at that point a largely
Greek tradition, which had occurred in Italian communities during the second century BCE, but to
which the Romans were opposed until the middle of the first century BCE.496 Wood had for decades
served as the prevailing material for theatre constructions because it allowed for more flexible
487
Fejfer 2008, 177.
For examples see Fejfer 2008, 177-178.
489
Erlich 2015, 169.
490
Erlich 2015, 169.
491
Zink 2014, 238; Erlich 2015, 158.
492
Lapatin 2015, 180.
493
Rood 1950, 13.
494
For the process of sculpting wooden sculptures, see Rood 1950, 13. In particular the painting techniques used for the
two-dimensional mummy portraits from Egypt are well-documented. Freccero 2000 and 2006. Most polyhrome
sculpture from the Middle Ages and early Renaissance were made from wood. Roller 2014, 19-33. On reconstructing a
polychrome wooden icon of the Sacred Barbara, dating to ca. 1490 (Frankfurt am Main, Liebighaus
Skulpturensammlung, Inv. No. 669), including the painting techniques, see Theiss 2014, 89-119.
495
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 160.
496
In 154-150 BCE a stone theater on the Palatine was destroyed. One hundred years later in 55 BCE Rome’s first
permanent theater opened, built by Pompey on the Campus Martius. Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 160-161.
488
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structures.497 In the late Republic, until stone and concrete became the prime materials for building
activities in Rome, it seems that wood was directly associated with a Roman tradition, whereas
stone reflected a Hellenic tradition.498
Wooden sculptures in the round are rarely preserved.499 In an exedra from Casa del Menandro in
Pompeii (dating to the third quarter of the first century CE) a row of bust portraits and small
figurines have been preserved by covering lava, standing next to each other inside the vaulted niche
(fig. A:44). The portraits were most likely made from wood, but wax has also been suggested.500
Roman dolls, recovered from sarcophargis in and around Rome, made from wood (and ivory) may
testify to how (female) portraits in wood were executed (fig. A:48).501
Furthermore a papyrus, dating to 215 CE and originating from the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus in
Euergetis, mentions how a wooden statue (perhaps representing Commodus) was regularly carried
in processions.502 Although the archaeological and written records are silent when it comes to
sculptures made from wood, the material seems to have been important – or at least well-knownfor Roman portraiture, which the well-preserved, two-dimensional painted mummy portraits from
Roman Egypt, dating to the first three centuries CE, testify to (fig. A: 17). Also, certain religious
icons, such as the statue of Athena Polias, were made from wood and carried considerable meaning
due to a combination of their perishable wooden materials and authentic old nature.503
A2.6: Wax
Wax was a material, which could be obtained throughout the Empire.504 Wax mainly derived from
the cultivation of bees. Depicted in relief on the side of the chest of a sarcophagus belonging to
Titus Paconius Caledus is a scene were male figures are shown working with apiculture (fig.
A:45).505 Caledus himself may therefore have worked as a beekeeper, and as such he provided
materials for making sculptures as well as encaustic paintings (see above). This may be supported
by the male and female profile heads depicted facing the central scene: the heads are propped up on
497
The reasons for this is much debated amongst scholars, and political reasons (trying to control the gathering of
people) as well as attempts made by the nobility of Rome to control the cultural sphere of Rome has been proposed.
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 161.
498
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 160.
499
For examples see Fejfer 2008, 179.
500
Fejfer 2008, 175 and 179.
501
D’Ambra 2014.
502
Fejfer 2008, 178.
503
Lapatin 2015, 180.
504
Dasen 2010, 116.
505
Schäfer 1989, 169-170, taf. 26.3; Dasen 2010, 116.
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small plinths, and have therefore been interpreted as iconographic representations of ancestral
masks in wax (explained below).506
Wax is a fragile and perishable sculptural medium which demanded a high level of maintenance in
order to preserve its originally intended visual appearance. Lack of such regular maintenance is
mentioned by Seneca the Younger, who describes entering an atrium full of wax masks as ‘(…) a
hall of smoke-begrimed busts.’507 Such blackened masks may be what is represented in a mosaic in
Pompeii (fig. A:46).508 Its perishable nature is the reason why so little wax sculpture is preserved in
the archaeological record. The only surviving wax portrait comes from a grave in Cumae (fig.
1:47).509
Wax holds no particular polychrome effects in itself, besides from ranging in tones of yellow and
grey. Its material structures range in transparent and translucent effects which could be manipulated
in different ways.510 Any polychrome effects of the wax compounds could therefore have been
obtained by tinting the wax compound by adding pigments, as is observed in modern traditions of
producing wax figures.511 However, since no evidence testifying to this practice is known from the
Roman Empire (see below), it remains speculative whether or not the Roman craftsmen would have
tinted their wax compounds. Results from analysis the wax mask/portrait from Cumae (fig. A:47)
show that lead salts and palmitin were added to the wax compound to enhance its opacity, testifying
to the presence of material manipulations in order to obtain certain desired visual effects.512
Wax as sculptural material is highlighted by Pliny the Younger: ‘the beauty of wax is its power to
yield to the fingers’ skilful touch.’513 Pliny the Elder explains how the wax portraits were made:
‘The first person who modelled a likeness (imaginem) in plaster of a human being from the living
face itself, and established the method of pouring wax into this plaster mould (expressitceraque)
and then making final corrections on the wax cast, was Lysistratus of Sicyon.’514 The same piece of
506
Dasen 2010, 116.
Sen. Ep. 44.5 (translation be Dasen 2010, 118).
508
Dasen 2010, 118.
509
Flower 1996, 6-7, Fejfer 2008, 175; Dasen 2010, 117. There also exists another wax portrait in miniature of a
woman wearing a sevaran hair style. Liverpool, Liverpool Museum, inv. No. 49.18.53. The authenticity of this
particular portrait is, however, not certain. Fejfer 2008, 175, fig. 101.
510
Ortiz and Boró 2014, 87-89.
511
Bückling 2014, 126; Ortiz and Boró 2014, 88-89.
512
Dasen 2010, 118.
513
Plin. Ep. 7.9.11 (translation by Dasen 2010, 116).
514
Plin. HN. 35.1.53 (translation by Dasen 2010, 112). Similar methods were also practiced during the early
renaissance, see Dasen 2010, 112.
507
95
wax could be melted down and reused several times: ‘(…) in the greatest variety of forms, just as a
sculptor will fashion a number of different images (formae) from the same piece of wax.’515
Besides the head from Cumae (fig. A:47), knowledge on the intended visual effects of wax portrait
comes from written sources. Wax seems primarily to have been applied in portraiture, with the
purpose of depicting deceased individuals of a certain social standing for various reasons.516 Fullsized mannequins of the deceased Sulla, Caesar and Augustus were made to be burned on their
official funerary pyres.517 But wax portraits/masks were also a traditional way of honouring
important individuals during the late republic and Imperial periods and was regarded as a distinctive
aspect of Roman aristocratic culture.518 Polybius writes sometime during the second century BCE of
a funerary possession, witnessed by himself during a visit to Rome, where wax portraits/masks
representing deceased ancestors were carried by actors: ‘This image is a mask reproducing with
remarkable fidelity both the features and complexion of the deceased.’519 These masks were
normally kept in wooden cupboards in the atrium, as what can be seen on a grave relief of A.
Aemilius Aristomachus and Aemilia Hilara (fig. A:49).520 Placed in the houses of Roman nobility
the display of ancestral masks were meant to impress any visitors who entered.521And when a
member of the family died, they were taken out and paraded at the funerary procession to
commemorate the ancestors.522
Although none of these ancestral masks have survived, they are described in written sources as
producing the exact likenesses of their sitters, and they are traditionally ascribed as the forerunner –
together with bronze and terracotta (see above) of the Roman veristic portrait.523 In the first century
CE, Pliny the Elder describes wax masks as the traditional and, therefore, preferable medium for
portraits in private houses: ‘(...) Indolence has destroyed the arts, and since our minds cannot be
portrayed, our bodily features are also neglected. In the halls of our ancestors it was otherwise;
portraits were the objects displayed to be looked at, not statues by foreign artists, nor bronzes nor
515
Quint.Inst. 10.5.9. (translated by Dasen 2010, 117).
Pollini 2007, 237. On the process of modelling wax masks from a human face, see Dasen 2010, 112. On plaster
masks modelled from the faces of the deceased, see Mielsch and von Hesberg 1995, 196-198 (no. 10, 11 and 12, Abb.
246-253).
517
Dasen 2010, 115.
518
Scholars have long debated if the wax masks were specifically produced to honour the dead or if they were produced
from de-modelling the faces of the living as well. See Flower 1996; Pollini 2007, 238.
519
Polyb. Histories. 6.53.5-9. (Translation Trimble 2011, 150).
520
Johansen 1994, 11 (fig. 9); Pollini 2007, fig. 13.1.
521
Pollini 2007, 239.
522
Flower 1996, 37.
523
The veristic portrait is a type of hyper-realistic portrayal, which can be dated to the last century BCE. Pollini 2007,
237, 252-262.
516
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marbles, but wax models of faces were set out each on a separate side-board, to furnish likenesses
to be carried in procession at a funeral in the clan, and always when some member of it passed away
the entire company of his house that had ever existed was present.’524 It seems therefore that wax
was the preferred medium for producing portraiture, which was traditionally associated with lifelike representations of the sitters, but also to a certain extent (if we rely solely on the written
evidence) associated with the Roman nobility.525 Pliny the Elder elevates and praises wax as being
different from the stones crafted by foreign craftsmen and therefore, implicitly, a material suitable
for depicting ‘true’ Romans.
524
525
Plin. HN. 35.2.6.(Translation Rackham, Loeb 1995).
Pollini 2007, 237-240.
97
CHAPTER 3
The materiality of Roman polychrome portraiture
Following the definition(s) proposed by Miller (see the Introduction), this Chapter will discuss the
materiality of the different sculptural materials available to the Roman craftsmen during the first
three centuries CE.526 Defining what constitutes materiality begins with accepting that things are
more than just lifeless, passive objects opposing the active human subject. Things –meaning
physical entities with a tangible, material form – are experienced in accordance with all the
immaterial associations related to them. The materiality of a thing is therefore entangled with a
macroscopic material culture, structured and framed by a large complex network of meanings and
associations.527 But materiality also refers to the subjective sense, feeling or experience the viewer
has of this, and how the viewer negotiate and evaluate the networks of meanings and associations
when encountering things. The sculptural materials are therefore in this main-section explored
according to what the Roman viewer would have expected them to be.
Defining materiality as existing within a material culture, the materials used for Roman sculptural
purposes are explored as defined by their surroundings. Sculptural materials were never applied
accidental but always chosen according to an intended visual output. As such, the material
properties of each sculpture embodied active material agencies, serving not only a specific visual
purpose but also having an active effect on its own environment. The constructions are therefore not
static, which will be explored in detail in main section C.
The humility of sculptures
Today we are not surrounded by the same quantity of sculptures as was the case for the ancient
cities within the Roman Empire. We are therefore not able to grasp the complex communicative and
social role of polychrome sculptural materials in every detail. However, most modern Western
citizens will recognize that a certain expectation towards the public sculptures put on display in, for
example, squares perform a specific role within the physical space they habituate. The statues and
526
527
Miller 2005, 1.
Miller 2005, 4-7.
98
sculptures construct how people move through a given space, and even how they can recognize and
navigate from one to another.528
The importance of statues in constructing spatial environments became explicit when the mayor of
London, Ken Livingstone, in 2000 wanted to replace the two Victorian statues of Henry
Havelock529 and Charles Napier530on Trafalgar Square with statues representing and
commemorating more contemporary figures (fig. A:50).531 The proposal for removing the two
statues was based on the argument that the statues on the square should ‘(…) be identifiable to the
generality of the population.’532 But the general public reaction to his proposal proved, that the
identifiability of the statues did not matter. Although the majority of people moving through
Trafalgar Square did not know who the two statues were meant to represent, they were outraged by
the thought that the mayor wanted to have them replaced.533 Although the original intentions with
setting up the two honorific statues are now lost, and the use of the square has changed much since
the statues were added to the public space in the mid 19th century, they have become an integrated
part of London’s spatial environments. People expect to see them.
The case with Trafalgar Square illustrates the impact which statues and sculptures have on modern
western spatial environments. In accordance with what Miller suggests by his theory of the humility
of things, a humility of sculptures can in this case be proposed. Although sculptures are produced to
be anything but unnoticeable, the material culture within which they are grounded combined with
how they are defined in their spatial environments, construct familiar experiences causing them to
fade out of focus of the human observer. This does, of course, not apply to all sculptural
dedications. But it provides an approach to explore how the materiality of Roman polychrome
sculptures, and the material culture to which they belonged, was constructed and experienced by the
ancient Roman viewers.
528
Cherry and Cullen 2007, 1-6.
Henry Havelock was at the time of his death in 1857 considered a great British hero. He defeated an Uprising against
the British rule in Imperial India in 1857. His devotion to the British Empire and his publicly strong Christian faith
made him an archetype role model for the Victorian society in London. The statue was installed in 1861. Shanti 2013,
28-29.
530
Major-General Charles Napier became the Governor of Sind, India, in 1843 to his death in 1853. The statue was
installed in 1856. Shanti 2013, 28-29.
531
Cherry 2007, 128.
532
Cherry, 2007, 128-129..
533
Cherry, 2007, 129.
529
99
A3.1: A cultural revolution of Roman sculptural materials and the question of
material appropriation
Throughout his encyclopaedic work, Naturalis Historia, Pliny the Elder often returns to his moral
point of departure, when describing materials used for architectural and sculptural adornments,
which is centred around a critique of the increasing consumerism of luxury items.534 According to
Pliny the perfect state in the relationship between Man and Nature consists of Man exploiting
Nature as a resource to create art, keeping in mind that Nature exists in its own right and not solely
for the benefit of Man.535 Exploiting Nature should therefore be kept within the moral limits of Man
himself, and he should never seek to rival Nature’s own visual splendour.536 Pliny exercised a moral
appreciation of adapting the richness of Nature without compromising her, but the creative
exploitation of the natural properties of the sculptural materials are in the following sub-sections not
interpreted as seeking to maintain this idea of obtaining an order or balance. Rather all material and
polychrome properties of the coloured sculptures were exploited and altered through artistic
manipulations seeking to convey certain semiotic as well as aesthetic purposes. As such all of the
sculptural materials were constructed towards a desired visual appeal – regardless of what Pliny and
the elitist Roman society may have thought of it.
Terracotta, wood and limestone: the impermanent materials
As white marble became increasingly popular during the first centuries BCE and CE, the use of
other and less durable materials changed in ways of application simultaneously -some decreasing
rapidly. Before the first century BCE polychrome sculptures of wood, limestone and terracotta were
produced for all kinds of spatial environments representing both ideal and portrait sculptures in all
shapes and sizes.537 But during the first three centuries CE their uses for sculptural products
changed.
Terracotta figurines were mould-made and mass-produced, and their quantitative presence in the
archaeological material from the Republican periods to the late third century CE shows that they
were popular in all classes of Roman society.538 They were less individual according to type and
534
Bradley 2009B, 87-110.
Bradley 2009B, 88.
536
Bradley 2009B, 88.
537
Fejfer 2008, 163; Erlich 2015, 155.
538
Erlich 2015, 155-156.
535
100
iconography compared to sculptures made from stone, and could be held and moved around freely.
Their material properties possessed a certain perishable uniqueness.539 The reason for the
continuing success of the moulded, often mass-produced, terracotta sculptures, despite their general
decrease in production and general application, may have been their unique material and
polychrome properties separating them from other sculptures in visual as well as tactile experience.
Their materiality served to communicate and translate human emotions and religious beliefs, which
explains why terracotta was generally restricted in use to the religious and funeral spheres of
Roman life.540
While terracotta remained a unique material for certain sculptural productions until the fourth
century CE, wood lost most of its ground to concrete, plaster and stone –at least for architectural
purposes.541 Wood had been the preferred material for building theatres in particularly in Rome,
while building in stone was largely a Greek, Hellenistic tradition which spread throughout Italy
during the Late Republican periods, reaching Rome in the first century BCE.542 Wood may
therefore have been regarded as a traditional Roman material; however it remains unknown whether
this also translated to sculptural products. Since few wooden sculptures have survived in the
archaeological record, we can only speculate on how it was used. However, the tradition of
producing acroliths was largely a religious phenomenon suggesting that wood –much like
terracotta- remained a material restricted for religious functions communicating Roman beliefs.543
Although wood was available for a whole range of different productions (from ships to furniture),
the religious, authentic (sometimes very old) value ascribed to certain religious icons made from
wood may have added a certain personal sacredness to sculptures also produced from wood. Roman
dolls, for example, recovered from children sarcophagi dating to the Roman Imperial period were
made from cloth, terracotta, bone, ivory and –to the greatest extend- wood (fig. A:48).544 These
individually sculpted representations of (mostly) female figures served to mimic human
relationships and were the prized items of adolescent Roman girls, and deemed so personal and
important (despite their generic appearances) that they were buried with their owner instead of
539
Erlich 2015, 169.
Erlich 2015, 169.
541
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 160.
542
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 259.
543
Lapatin 2015, 180.
544
Harlow 2013, 330.
540
101
being passed on to another.545 The materials used for these dolls were neither luxurious not exotic,
yet they possessed a certain value. Unlike gold or silver, which were associated with the divine and
therefore seemed far removed from the human spectator, wood -as well as terracotta- appeared as
more intimately relatable.
While wood and terracotta despite –or rather because of- their impermanent material properties
remained in use during the centuries CE, limestone declined rapidly. However, in local contexts
within the Empire (such as the city of Palmyra), it continued in frequency, while in Rome it appears
to have been largely replaced by marble.546
The reasons for this rapid decline may be explained by its material and polychrome properties.
Unlike terracotta and wood most limestone types are close to those of the white marbles in physical
appearance. However, most limestone types are far less durable and do not allow for as delicate or
as detailed surface texturing as those of the white marbles. Marble therefore became the obvious
choice for sculptural products of higher and more long-lasting qualities, which some limestone
stones were able to match, but not all of them.547
The prevalence of white marble over soft limestone suggests that the people of Rome and Italy of
the centuries CE demanded –and could afford- sculptural products of a higher quality and more
luxurious, visual effects. The white marbles were quarried throughout the Empire and consumed as
a sophisticated sculptural material providing certain polychrome effects. The growing demand for
refined sculptural, as well as architectural, materials reflects a change in Roman consumerism’s
behaviours, which brought with it new networks of extracting and trading materials from all over
the Empire, seeking to satisfy a growing demand for materials in Rome and Italy including not only
white but also foreign coloured stones.
Coloured stones: a cultural revolution of polychrome sculptures
Pliny the Elder was particularly provoked by the growing demand for white and coloured stones
from Asia Minor, Greece and Egypt during the first centuries BCE and CE.548 According to Pliny
this increasing demand for marbles represented the moral decay of Roman society and goes as far as
Harlow 2013, 336; D’Ambra 2014, 161-162. Why dolls form part of the grave goods associated with girls and young
women has been much debated. In general see Dolansky 2012; Harlow 2013, 329-336.
546
Fejfer 2008, 163.
547
Penny 1993, 111-112.
548
Anderson 1989, 13. I would like to thank Flemming Friborg for taking time to discuss the following section with me.
545
102
to name it the ‘(…) prime folly in our behaviour (…)’.549 To Pliny the increased exploitation of
these stones was the epiphany of Man’s abuse of Nature.550 Pliny notes how it was the “shaggy
Gaul” Mamurra, a Roman knight from Formia who went to Gaul with Caesar, who was the first
man in Rome to use marble as decorative elements in his private house.551 He furthermore notes
how Marcus Lepidus (who was consul in 78 BCE) was the first to use coloured marble (Numidian)
to decorate the door sills of his house, and Pliny highlights that he was highly criticized for this
folly: the Numidian marble ‘(…) was not in the form of columns or slabs, (…), but came in blocks
to be used in the most sordid manner –as door sills!’.552
A similar stoic discomfort with the exploitation of stones is voiced by Seneca the Younger, who
compares the popular use of polychrome stones during the first century CE to children’s play with
smooth and variegated pebbles: ‘(…) while we take delight in the spots of enormous columns
brought either from Egyptian sands or African deserts to hold up portico or a dining room large
enough to contain a population; we admire walls veneered with plates of marble, although we know
what sort of material is being concealed. We cheat our own eyesight (…). For we know that beneath
this gold there lurks some rotten wood.’553
Returning to Pliny the Elder, he does, however, not appear to be provoked by the fact that different
foreign imported marbles were used for decorative purposes; he directs his scorn at how people
used them. He mentions a specific marble from Chios as ‘(…) the first specimen of our favourite
marbles with their parti-coloured markings (…)’, which was originally used by the people of Chios
for decorating their walls.554 The marble from Chios, which he does not oppose the use of, may be
the speckled stones belonging to the group of Bigi Morati and Neri Antichi, ranging in hues of grey
and black or the speckled portasanta, which ranged in hues of red. All of these marbles were
quarried at Chios (among other places) and were particularly popular for architectural decorations
(specifically columns) during the Roman Republic and Imperial periods.555 By highlighting this
particular marble from Chios in positive terms, Pliny implies that it was not all uses of coloured
stones which he deemed immoral, suggesting that the use of polychrome stones in particular during
the first centuries BCE and CE was a semiotic minefield of material appropriateness.
549
Plin. HN. 36.1. Bradley 2009B, 89.
Pliny belonged to the Roman upper classes, and although he himself notes that the intended readers of his works are
small farmers and artisans, they were more likely the wealthy free citizens who dedicated themselves to learning about
the world. Bussels 2012, 25. See also the Introduction, B3.
551
This is second-hand information provided by Cornelius Nepos. Plin. HN. 36.48.
552
Plin. HN. 36.49. Anderson 1989, 13.
553
Sen. Ep. 115.8-9. Bradley 2009B, 92.
554
Plin. HN. 36.50.
555
Cioffarelli 1989A, 65; Candilio 1989, 85; Lazzarini 2002, 244; Brilli et al. 2010.
550
103
Archaeological evidence show that both the black and red hued stones from Chios were applied in
Republican Rome, and may therefore have been more acceptable to use for columns than, for
example, the yellow Giallo Antico from Numidia, which Marcus Lepidus used for door sills.
Despite the rhetoric attacks of Pliny, the use of the coloured marbles continued to increase in
popularity reaching an all-time high in the second and third centuries CE. The increased demand for
the coloured stones during the first and, in particular, the second century CE reflects a general taste
for more sophisticated visual effects, which is in alignment with what Wallace-Hadrill calls the
consumer revolution of luxury items during the early Roman Empire.556
According to Wallace-Hadrill an overall growing demand of luxurious items can be detected in the
first centuries BCE and CE, including elaborate bronze household items (candelabras, lamps and
vessels), which have been uncovered from sunken shipwrecks such as the one found in 1907 off the
coasts of Mahdia in modern day Tunesia, and which testifies to an economically resourceful
“middle class” that expanded in the Roman Empire from the first century BCE onwards.557 From
the late Republican periods, the prosperity of the Empire did not only benefit the elite of Rome but
also the rest of Italy, and the increased use of coloured and white marbles – not only for specific
monumental purposes (columns, pavements and mosaics) in the city of Rome or for private
adornments in homes of the nobility, but also for a more general public within and outside the
capital – may too reflect this growing economy.558
Unfortunately it is difficult to estimate the original, complete scope of Roman use of imported
coloured stones because most of the stones have been reused since then. However, archaeological
evidence at the quarrying sites combined with the written evidence testifying to regular Imperial
attempts at controlling the overall consumption of white and coloured stones suggests that coloured
stones were intensively exploited in Roman societies.559 Perhaps because of this coloured stones
were applied more widely and intensively outside of Rome. Examinations of coloured stones (used
for architectural as well as sculptural decorative elements) in the great suburban villas situated in
the area between via Nomentana and via Tiburtina show that polychrome stones were more
frequently applied in these contexts compared to Rome itself.560 The remaining coloured stone of
556
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 315-355 and 356-440.
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 361-406. Whether or not the term “Middle class” can be conferred on the growing
economically resourceful social class of the Roman Empire is much debated. See Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 354 and more
generally Mayer 2012.
558
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 354. See also in general Lapatin 2015.
559
Control with quarrying and trading certain stones, including purple porphyry from Egypt, was more restricted than
was the case for others. See A2.2.
560
Mariottini, Curti and Moscetii 2009, 492.
557
104
the villa’s in the areas of Tivoli show a greater variety and much broader range of stone types, both
for architectural enhancement but also for sculptural decorative purposes.561
The application of coloured stones in Rome therefore seems to have differed from the practices of
the rest of Italy. The red granites from Egypt were distributed throughout Italy and seem to have
been regarded as a ‘signature material’ of Egyptian culture.562 The black granites from Mons
Claudianus were, however, restricted to Rome,563 while the rest of Italy had their demand for the
dark granites satisfied mainly from the quarries at Elba.564 The individual geographical and cultural
history of the materials therefore mattered as to how they were consumed, as did the economics
involved with importing them to Rome and Italy and even any political associations connected
therewith.565 By the physical acts of labour and the man-hours that went into extracting the foreign
materials and to have them transported to Rome and displayed within the city itself as decorative
elements of elaborate monumental constructions, Rome visually positioned itself as the Centre of
the world: the caput mundi.566 No other culture was able to rival her in glory.
By the time of Diocletian certain polychrome stones had become extremely valuable, including
porphyry and pavonazetto, which in particular came to be a semiotic marker of royalty closely
associated with the Roman Imperial house.567 The semiotic strengths of the coloured stones did
therefore not fade, but the associations connected to their material and polychrome properties
changed from the Late Republican to the Late Antique periods, together with the changes in
application.
The semiotic purposes of the coloured stones aside, the practical aspects of their exploitation also
requires mentioning. Pliny the Elder notices that greywacke (basanites) was hard as iron.568 The
natural polychromy of the stones, perhaps supplemented with inlaid eyes of glass and metal
attachments, would therefore presumably not have needed the same level of maintenance as the
painted marbles, limestone, wood, wax and terracottas would have. This may explain – at least
partially – the dominant use of coloured stones for architectural monuments in Rome and the rest of
Italy.
561
Mariottini, Curti and Moscetii 2009, 492;Lapuente, Nogales, León, Royo and Preite-Martinez 2012
It was used for temples, pyramids and obelisks from the fourth Dynasty. Fant 1993, 148.
563
Fant 1993, 150-151.
564
Williams-Thorpe 2008, 78-81.
565
Schneider 2002, 83.
566
Schneider 2002, 86.
567
Reinhold 1976, 59; Bradley 2009B, 205.
568
Plin. HN. 36.58.
562
105
Wax: balancing Nature and Man
Based on the written evidence it can be argued that wax was a particular material separated in visual
expression and intended emotional and semiotic impact when used for sculptural purposes. Pliny
the Elder launches an attack on the portrait practices of his own day (late first century CE), stating
that “indolence has destroyed the arts, and since our minds cannot be portrayed, our bodily features
are also neglected”.569 Earlier he identifies the main flaw: that the Romans of his time are more
concerned with expensive materials than producing ‘(…) recognisable likeness of one’s self. (…)
Consequently nobody’s likeness lives and they leave behind them portraits that represent their
money, not themselves.’570 But, Pliny notes, ‘in the halls of our ancestors it was otherwise; portraits
were the objects displayed to be looked at, not statues by foreign artists, nor bronzes nor marbles,
but wax models of faces were set out each on a separate side-board, to furnish likenesses (…).’
Pliny specifically highlights wax as the material used for traditional Roman portraiture, not bronze
nor marble sculptures made by foreign artists (externorum artificum), but wax. To Pliny wax was a
material associated with good moral values of the Roman society of his ancestors. As a pure, natural
material wax could be exploited within the moral limits of Man; it was not something Nature
produced for herself but rather a material crafted by and for Man himself.
Wax masks were used as powerful vehicles for exercising the power and privileges associated with
the ancient Republican, noble families.571 They were carried in processions and put on display in
the most prominent areas of the elite households. But as the white and coloured stones poured into
Italy, internalized by the increasingly wealthy and powerful ‘middle classes’ of Italy, the decreasing
elite of Rome not only lost some of their political authority but also their monopoly to exercise it
through sculptural materials. The consumption of sculptural materials taking place in the first
centuries BCE and CE was therefore not just reflecting a cultural revolution and shift in social
classes; the sculptural materials were an important battlefield where the rights to define what was
considered ‘truly Roman’ was fought.
Unfortunately the role of wax as material for portraiture during the Roman Empire is difficult to
identify. Wax continued to be applied as a binding medium for painting, meaning that the material
continued to be produced. It was also an important medium for creating bronze sculptures following
the ‘lost wax’ method (fig. A:37). Whether or not wax continued to be used for Roman portraiture
569
Plin. HN. 35.6.(Translation Rackham, Loeb 1995).
Plin. HN. 35.6.(Translation Rackham, Loeb 1995).
571
Pollini 2007, 239.
570
106
throughout the centuries CE, the material remained an important feature for creating polychrome,
life-like portrayals of individuals in two- and three dimensions.
A3.2: The material culture of Roman polychrome portraiture
Much has been written on how the Romans experienced and interacted with their sculptures572, but
little has been written on how the sculptural materials served to construct such interactions. The
interactions with sculptures were on an everyday level. Some left a mark on the sculptures, to be
examined by archaeologists and art historians, such as resculpting and mutilation, while others are
restricted to notions written in texts, such as a kiss or a touch. Although sculptures were put on
display in almost all Roman contexts, meaning that the Roman viewer would have encountered and
engaged with them in numerous ways, most scholarly research tends to focus on the religiously, or
power-related, constructed interactions with sculptures and statues including rites and ritual actions
evolving bathing, clothing, feeding, mutilating and carrying them in processions; and less so on the
more ‘everyday’ engagements, which is what concerns the following discussion.573
Having discussed elements of appropriate use of sculptural materials (aided by the moral rhetoric of
Pliny the Elder), this section will now turn to discuss how these materials constructed each other
and an overall material culture. When taking the semiotic and emotional impact which the vast
repertoire of visual polychrome appeals were intended to impose on their viewers through material
manipulations and de-materializations into consideration, it seems likely that the intended spatial
display of the different polychrome sculptures would have been constructed according to how the
colour effects were applied and hypothetically maintained and also how they were meant to be
perceived and experienced.
White marble and bronze: material rivals or different crafts?
In the first three centuries CE white marble and bronze were the prime materials for sculptural
productions. Bronze and marble offered two radically different materials for sculptural products
originating from very different natural resources. However, both material groups were intermixed
by the Roman craftsmen, blurring the line between the two crafts: stone was used for inlaid eyes in
572
Most recently see Trimble 2015 and Perry 2015. Most research on how the ancientRoman interacted and appreciated
their sculptures and statues are based on written testimonies: Elsner 1991; Elsner 2000; Koortbojian 2005; Elsner
2007A; Perry 2015; Bradley 2013 and 2014.
573
Stewart 2003, 108-142, specifically 127-130; Perry 2015.
107
the bronze statuary, while bronze used for attachments on the marble works. Also pigments, in
particular verdigris, were developed from corrosion products of copper alloys, which were also used
for bronze statuary. In visual appeal the sculptures and statues produced from white marbles and
bronze did, therefore, have several overlaps. Yet their consumption history as materials for
sculptural productions during the Republican and Roman Imperial periods differs, which may
testify to two very different types of crafts and overall intended visual and emotional experiences.
As bronze was a popularly used material during the Roman Republican periods its material
properties was, presumably, associated with certain traditional values and aesthetics during the first
century BCE where white marbles were introduced to Rome and Italy. The style and form of the
bronze portrait originated from casts made from terracotta and wax (and plaster) (fig. A:37).574
While terracotta seems to have become a material suited for the more personally and sacred
sculptural products during first centuries BCE and CE, and wax may have become a material
closely associated with good normative (elitist), Roman values, bronze may have provided a similar
emotional impact on its viewer when used for portraiture. Although the final, polychrome finish and
overall tactile experience with a bronze portrait differed from those made from wax and terracotta,
the visual impact of style and form of the cast bronze portrait would have had certain overlaps with
those made from terracotta and wax, emphasizing a traditionally valorisation of its material
properties.
Furthermore bronze seems to have been preferred (although this remains to be fully supported by
more general examinations) for honorific statuary.575 A certain predilection for bronze for honorific
statuary, meaning monumental sculptural dedications in public squares, seems likely when taking
the material and polychrome properties of the bronzes into consideration. Unlike most stones and
metals, bronze is a durable and hard material which can be put on display outside with little or no
coverage.576 This is vocalized by Horace who predicts that his written work will be more lasting
than bronze reaching higher than the pyramids577, suggesting that bronze was generally thought of
as a durable material. Research remains to establish the extent to which bronze sculptures were
painyed, but different patination and metal alloys to create complex polychrome compositions
would not have been in need of extensive protection or maintenance. Unlike the painted white
574
Langland 1999, 100-113; Pollini 2007, 258; Bewer 2012, 25-26; Mattusch 2014, 55-57, fig. 33.
Højte 2005, 46-47. See also Fejfer 2008, 158, Lahusen 2020, 63.
576
Mattusch 2014, 21.
577
Hor. Carm. 3.30. Translation: Pollini 2007, 239.
575
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marbles and limestone, and even more so the sculptures made from terracotta, wood and wax,
statues made from bronze were therefore ideal for public dedications in open spatial environments.
Furthermore the polychrome effects of bronze statues made from simple visual effects would have
been suited for the open squares where the sky, high sun and busy human traffic would have
swallowed more detailed and complex colour effects of, for example, painted marble sculptures.
Placed on a tall base in, for example, the Roman forum amongst numerous other statuary
dedications and against colourful architectural monuments, the most eye-catching polychrome
effects would have needed to be relatively simple highlighting the most essential semiotic features,
including anatomically correct details (hair, eyes, lips, nipples) and elements supporting a social
status (armour, jewelleries, clothing).
The painted marble sculptures evoked a different visual experience relying to a greater extent on
details and illusionistic effects, which I will address in more detail in Chapters 6 and 8. The visual
effects of marble and paint, and the extensive dematerialization of materials which they embodied,
evoked certain effects which tricked the eye of the viewer, causing him/her to be drawn into a closer
and more intimate experience. The polychrome and material properties of a painted portrait would
have been most effective when placed in houses, gardens or other similarly restricted and less
trafficked spatial environments, where the polychrome sculpture assumed a less monumental and
more decorative function.
The two popular materials of white marbles and bronze were therefore not necessarily competing as
sculptural materials. The painted white marble sculptures may have ‘borrowed’ certain polychrome
effects from the bronze materials in the form of attachments, gilding and alloys. But the metal
applications were assimilated within a visual vocabulary dominated by the painted marble
sculptures, and as such they became a fully integrated part of their semiotic purposes in line with
the paint layers and other polychrome enhancements such as gilding. The visual language, to which
the material properties of the metal contributed, was internalized by the white marbles themselves.
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‘Unnatural’ sculptural polychromes: pigments and gilding
Pigments and gilding are so far the two prime polychrome enhancements, which were externally
obtained and added to the sculptural base material. Pigments and leaf gold were used intentionally
as more or less complete coverage. As such they transformed and sometimes radically changed the
visual appearances of the base material, tricking the eye of the observer into believing that what
s/he was looking at (wood, stone, clay, wax) was, in fact, something else (human hair, skin,
textiles). Such visual experiences were carefully constructed not only to secure a visual appeal but
also certain semiotic readings, which I will address in Main Section C.
Much like the semiotic purposes of making golden statues applying leaf gold as a particular
polychrome enhancement seem to have been associated with certain heroizing and divinizing values
during the Roman Empire.578 By exploiting the natural properties of the bright gold, the polychrome
effects of leaf gold evoked specific visual experiences and emotional impacts. When fully covering
the base material, the leaf was not applied to obtain a life-like sculptural representation of the
person portrayed, it was applied as a polychrome feature with an idealizing effect for sculptural as
well as architectural purposes.
Results from examinations of the temple of Apollo at the Palatine have shown that an application of
leaf gold in combination with yellow/reddish ochre paint layers aimed at making the temple visually
appear is completely gilded.579 The strategic combination of the physical, high-profiled placement
of the temple at the top of the Palatine Hill (its exact position is much debated580) and its bright,
gleaming polychrome finish would have asserted the temple through an artistic and semiotic
emphasis on powerful and divine associations.581
When applied with the intentions of fully covering the base sculptural material, leaf gold offered a
completely redefinition of the materials underneath. It added a specific and easily recognizable
visual effect, imitating purely golden statues, due to their – presumably – high costs. However, the
modern scholar must be careful when ascribing such value to the intended effects of polychrome
enhancements of sculptural materials. According to modern appreciation of material properties,
gold surpasses marble, silver and bronze in economic and social values (at least in the stereotypic,
symbolic sense). But as Pliny the Elder notes particularly high-quality bronzes could surpass even
578
Lahusen 1999, 106; Fejfer 2008, 166; Lapatin 2015, 19-20.
Zink and Piening 2009.
580
On the discussion of the position of the temple on the Palatine, see Claridge 2014.
581
Zink and Piening 2009, 121.
579
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gold in the first century CE.582 Little is in fact known of how expensive a golden statue would have
been compared to, for example, a bronze or marble sculpture made from high quality materials. Of
course, size would have mattered greatly, and the colossal bronze statue commissioned by Nero and
placed in the same area were the Colosseum is located in Rome today,583 would have made an
impressive impact upon any viewer approaching it, presumably surpassing all (smaller scale)
sculptural productions of gold (fig. A:51). It should therefore be kept in mind that assuming that all
golden statues automatically would have surpassed those of bronze and marble, may – in some
cases- be a modern construction.
Not all that glitters is gold
Not all that glitters is gold is an English saying which means that what looks precious or true can
sometimes turn out not to be so.584 It therefore seems appropriate to use this saying to headline this
section which deals with how modern scholars interpret the symbolic values originally ascribed to
the properties of the materials used for polychrome sculptures during the Roman Empire.
As discussed above the largely modern constructed assumption that gold was considered more
valuable than other metals may not always compare to how the Romans themselves appreciated the
materials. The scholarly assumption that all traces of gilded surfaces sought to imitate the costly
effects of gold may therefore be equally misleading. As the polychrome effects of gold varied from
reddish to white, which could be further manipulated, enhanced and textured by the craftsmen, it
seems that the diverse visual effects of leaf gold would also have had multiple semiotic purposes.
On painted marble sculptures, leaf gold has been identified with different underlying paint layers
ranging in hues from black, over red to purple (see above). In the case of the ‘Beauty from
Palmyra’, thin layers of leaf gold were identified superimposed on paint layers of red, yellow and
pink hues (fig. A:26 and A:27).585 Such paint layers would have altered the visual effects of the
natural properties of the leaf gold, presumably securing specific aesthetic appreciations and
semiotic readings, of which we can only speculate.586
Particularly what he refers to as ‘Corinthian bronze’. Plin. HN. 34.1.
Albertson 2001.
584
Lahusen 1999.
585
Sargent and Therkildsen 2010, 14, fig. 3. See also: http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/36
586
Perhaps the visual effects of combining leaf gold with different paint layers may have sought to imitate different
kinds of golden materials. Or, they may have sought to imitate different types of jewellery.
582
583
111
In several cases leaf gold has been found on sculpted strands of hair on Roman ideal sculpture and
portraiture.587 The restricted use of leaf gold, seemingly confined to the pronouncing areas of the
sculpted locks, suggest that leaf gold in certain instances was applied not because of the symbolic
value of gold but because the polychrome effects of leaf gold, combined with paint layers,
supported a visual effect of highlights when seeking to imitate life-like and well groomed human
hair. The dissertation returns to this in more detail in chapter 2, main section B.
If leaf gold could be changed and altered in order to adapt to specific visual effects, of which some
may not have been associated with the symbolic and economic value of gold itself, but instead
relied on the bright effects, which the leaf gold provided, then the combination of sculptural
material and colour effects dematerialized not only the base material but also the material properties
of the applied polychrome effects. As such the leaf gold ceased to perform a strictly idealized
polychrome feature, to support the intentions of a life-like visual result instead.
The fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square
Returning now to the story of the Victorian statues in Trafalgar Square, cited in the introduction to
this chapter, I will discuss how the material properties of the polychrome sculptures in the Roman
Empire acted as social agents; a topic which will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 7.
Trafalgar Square was laid out between 1829 and 1841 (fig. A:50). Besides the statues of Henry
Havelock and Charles Napier (fig. A:52), the square came to host a statue of Horatio Nelson placed
on top of a 40-metre-high column (commemorating the Admiral who won the Battle of Trafalgar in
1805, put on display in 1843) and an equestrian statue of king George IV (put on display in
1844).588 The column and statue of Nelson is placed on a high base, carrying four bronze reliefs
depicting the Battle of Trafalgar. The base is flanked at each corner by four statues of reclining
lions, made from bronze recast from guns taken from old British battle ships.589 The theme of the
monumental statuary display thereby carried strong connotations to the British Empire.
The predominant preference for using bronze for statues was in line with 19th century’s use of
materials for sculptural display; a manner of application which can be traced back to the Roman
Empire and which experienced a revival in the 19th century.590 This long-lasting use of bronze for
587
Abbe 2008; Abbe 2010A, Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2014.
Shanti 2013, 26-33.
589
Shanti 2013, 26-33.
590
In general see Ekserdijan 2012B; Schmidt 2012; Elliott 2012.
588
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public, honorific dedications makes the statues appear as visually familiar to most modern day
Western viewers. When passing them in Trafalgar Square the viewer will therefore rarely notice
them. The combination of material, format, execution and spatial display constructs a subconscious
recognition within the viewer; the viewer expects the statues to be there and because of this the
statues will fade out of the conscious visual field of the viewer.
On Trafalgar Square the fourth plinth in the northern corner has remained empty since the statues
were set up during the 19th century. The plinth in the eastern corner supports the equestrian statue of
George IV, and it was originally agreed that a statue of William IV should be placed on the second
plinth. Funds ran out, however, leaving the plinth empty.591 Since then many suggestions as to what
may be placed on the plinth have been put forth, but it was not until the late 1990s that the plinth
finally came to support sculptural art works.592 Since 1999, different contemporary art works have
been put on temporary display in succession of each other.593
The fourth plinth on Trafalgar Square offers the opportunity to challenge London passers-by and
tourists. Unlike the traditional bronze sculptures of Nelson, George IV, Havelock and Napier, most
of the pieces put on display on the vacant plinth have had many different visual appearances. Each
contemporary artist have provided his or hers take on what a modern sculpture in Trafalgar Square
may look like, both according to sculptural theme and the history surrounding the square, but also
according to style and material. Individual taste has also, very much, been influential, as e.g. that of
Rachel Whiteread who ‘(…) hate[s] public sculpture that’s in your face (…)’ and created the
visually humble Monument from 2001 made of resin and granite (fig. A:53).594
When a new sculpture is revealed, it is staged as a grand ceremony, and each presented piece is
much debated and evaluated especially according to how people like it, and what they’d expected
from it. When the Gift Horse by Hans Haacke was revealed in 2015, it generated much positive
591
Shanti 2013, 28-34.
Cherry 2007, 157.
593
In 1999 Mark Wallinger’s Ecce Homo was placed on the plinth. In 2000 it was Bill Woodrow’s Regardless of
History. In 2011 Rachel Whiteread’s sculpture called Monument was put on display. This work was replaced by Marc
Quinn’s much controversial Alison Lapper Pregnant, depicting a pregnant, female torso made from white marble from
2005-2007 (Cherry 2007, 157). From 2007-2009 the plinth hosted Thomas Schüttle’s Model for a Hotel 2007. On it
2009 was Anthony Gormly’s One & Other, followed by Yinka Shonibare’s Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle from 2010-2012.
From 2012-2013 Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dagset’s sculpture called Powerless Structures, Fig. 101 was placed on
the plinth, and from 2013-2015 it was the blue-painted Hahn/Cock by Katharina Fritsch. In March 2015 Hans Haacke’s
Gift Horse was revealed, which is planned to be replaced in 2016 by a new art work. The overall theme connecting the
choices of temporary sculptural art works on the fourth plinth is that they cannot depict real-life people (except for the
controversial work, Allison Lapper Pregnant, by Mark Quinn from 2005-2007). Because of this, art works depicting
famous historical (living as well as dead) persons, including Nelson Mandela, Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elisabeth II
and Wallis Simpson have been rejected. Cherry 2007.
594
Cherry 2007, 234, fig. 6.6.
592
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feedback (fig. A:54). The combination of traditional choices in base motif (mirroring the equestrian
sculpture of the George IV) and bronze material combined with the untraditional choice of a riderless horse skeleton had an intriguing and captivating emotional effect on the public.595
The case of Trafalgar Square illustrates how a humility of sculptures can be argued to exist in
modern day public displays. Sculptures can fade into the background – or do the exact opposite – by
manipulating their proportions, motifs and materials. However, according to Miller they will be
most powerful as social agents when we do not notice them.596 Therefore, it is the sculptures and
statues which people expect to see that are the ones which are the most effective to habituate us. Of
course, the 19th-century sculptures on Trafalgar Square were not purposively created and put on
display to be invisible, but due to a combination of shape, proportions, spatial context and, above
all, the biographies which the material properties have accumulated over time, they have become an
integrated part of the physical environments ultimately participating in shaping the space of the
square and how people subconsciously navigate within it.
The contemporary sculptures replacing each other on the fourth plinth do the opposite. By
stationing themselves as different and ‘modern’, the sculptures on the fourth plinth are purposively
visible; one may even say that they fail if they are not so. But the premises for their success of
catching the eye of the viewer is the material culture to which they belong; without it the
contemporary pieces would just be three-dimensional things placed on a plinth in an open square.
The success of the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square is defined and presupposed by the old Victorian
bronze statues. Grounded in thousands of years of European sculptural traditions they construct how
the contemporary pieces on the fourth plinth are perceived and appreciated. The entire success of
the fourth plinth lies in the ability of the bronze statues to fade into the background. But this does
not in any way devaluate their position as important social agents, which became explicitly clear to
the mayor of London when he suggested having them removed.
The humility of painted white marble portraits during the Roman Empire
Returning now to the sculptural materials were used in the Roman Empire, it can be argued that the
materials were equally constructed then, as well as now, according to what the ancient viewers
would have expected the sculptures to look like, defined by certain constructed materialities and
595
Hear and see some of the reactions here: https://www.london.gov.uk/priorities/arts-culture/fourth-plinth/2014-2015commissions
596
Miller 2005, 5.
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spatial environments. It was mentioned above how the temple of Apollo on the Palatine was painted
and gilded to appear visually radiant. The striking optical effects of the temple were supported by
the semiotic effects of the applied leaf gold supporting the role of Apollo as God of the Sun and the
position of the temple on the top of Palatine Hill. Had the temple been placed within a space lower
in the uneven and crowded terrain of the city of Rome the leaf gold may not have been as visually
effective, and the constructed optical impact and its semiotic purposes would therefore have failed
to translate.
The constructed visual effects of a high-profile architectural monument were of course not the same
as the numerous sculptural dedications which took place in the city of Rome on a daily basis. But
the intended polychrome effects of the temple of Apollo reflect an intentionally constructed visual
experience and emotional impact of the monument itself. Seeking the coordinate where spatial
display meets manipulated material properties and polychrome effects, we may be able to approach
a material culture of polychrome sculpture and portraiture which can lead to a better understanding
of their original purposes. I shall return to this specifically in Chapter 8.
The different sculptural materials were consumed according to Roman semiotic and aesthetic
customs. The materials were diachronically different in origins and exploited because of this, but
ultimately they were all synchronized within the same visual vocabulary. The material and
polychrome properties of the sculptures may have communicated different messages, but they
spoke the same language. And to a native Roman citizen this language was synchronized within a
visual field of familiarity. The sculptures were numerous and inhabiting spatial environments of
Roman every-day lives, and as such they were more than just single productions of individual
commissions: they were forming their own material culture built from small unique pieces of a
greater puzzle. Each material, from pigment to stone, conformed to this pattern through artistic
manipulation defined by traditional craftsmanship of Roman workshops. Being the prime culture to
import foreign materials for sculptural and architectural purposes, the Romans understood how to
implement the unfamiliar within a familiar frame of visual references.
Despite the uniform nature of the macroscopic material culture of Roman polychrome sculptures,
the different materials carried individual meanings, changing over time and sometimes forming
semiotic minefields. As a ‘new’ sculptural material in the first century CE, the painted white
marbles quickly gained in popularity in Rome as well as in the rest of Italy, reflecting a change in
Roman sculptural taste. Creating polychrome marble portraiture from the white stones was a
115
different artistic sequence than what was practiced when using other materials. Although all the
other sculptural materials were polychrome as well, either through texture and material
manipulation or by applied paint mixtures, the sculpting, texturing and painting of the white
marbles exhibited a different line of craftsmanship seeking a different visual end goal. The material
properties of the white marbles were manipulated and prepared for the applied colour effects in a
number of ways; not that different from what the material properties of a canvas means to the visual
effect of a painting. As such, and as will be further explored in the next chapters the materiality of
the painted white marbles invited a certain type of portraiture, which served a different aesthetic and
semiotic purpose than the other sculptural materials.
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SECTION B
PRESENTATION OF THE PORTRAIT SCULPTURES
This Section presents the original painted polychromy on a selection of Roman, white marble
portraits from the NCG, which have been examined for traces of original paint.597 The fifteen
portraits are divided in two Case Studies: The portraits which originate from a sanctuary in Nemi,
Italy; and the portraits which all have been given a high-gloss polish of their exposed skin
surfaces.598
This Section is divided into three chapters:
Chapter 4 will present the portraits from Case Study 1 and the results from their scientific
examinations, including a debate of what the portraits originally may have looked like by drawing
upon experimental reconstructions performed in Photoshop. For a detailed account of the process of
creating the reconstructions, see Appendix 5.
Case Study 1 includes nine portrait sculptures, both statues and herms, which originate from the
same context: a room within a sanctuary in Nemi, Italy, dedicated to Diana Nemorensis (B4.1).
Their context is relevant to the debate of the visual experience between painted marble portraiture
and the Roman viewer.599 Results from the examinations proved interesting in regard to the
sculptures’ individual, original polychromy, illuminating important aspects of their original function
and purposes, including identity and agency, which will be debated in detail in Section C (C7.1 and
C8.1).
Chapter 5 presents the portraits from Case Study 2. The portraits from Case Study 2 dates to the
second and early third centuries CE, and have all been given a high-gloss polish of their skin areas.
The portraits have been examined by conservators Rikke Hoberg Therkilden and Maria Louise Sargent. For further
details on the results from the examinations and the methods used see the Catalogue (Appendix 4) and Appendix 5. See
also the project website www.trackingcolour.com for more information on the research conducted at the NCG.
598
The choices of portraits were – to some extent – affected by a fixed research program (see
www.trackingcolour.com). Also, the pieces chosen for the two Case Studies are the results from preliminary
examinations of multiple pieces from the collections of the NCG, of which not all proved to have enough remaining
paint. The pieces of the two Case Studies showed the best preserved paint remains for further investigation and
reconstruction of their original polychrome appearances.
599
The excavation of the portraits and their original context of display and coherence as a group is presented and
discussed in detail in Appendix 3.
597
117
Results from examinations proved that all of the portraits (except for one) were originally fully
covered by paint, including the high-gloss polished areas. Because of this, scholars are now able to
gain a unique insight into the levels of artistic refinement, which the Roman craftsmen were in
possession of.
All the pieces belonging to Case Study 2 are replicas (except for one), and are therefore accordingly
divided into sub-sections 2a, 2b and 2c. These sub-sections are relevant to the debate of the
production and consumption of painted marble portraits during the Roman Empire, concerning
chapter 3, and the aesthetic aims (such as levels of life-likeness), which the portraits sought to
visually embody.
Chapter 5 also includes a discussion of what the high-gloss polished portraits from the early third
century CE may originally have looked like with their fully painted surfaces. This discussion will
include comparative material, as well as an experimental, physical reconstruction of one of the
portraits. Creating the physical reconstruction was a collaborative, experimental process involving a
stone carver, painter, conservator and archaeologists, which has been described in detail in
Appendix 5.
6) The final Chapter of this section will provide a selected summary of the previous two by
focussing on the applied materials (marble and pigments) and any traceable painting techniques and
overall artistic practices of creating and maintaining them. By doing so this section will explore the
technical and artistic processes of sculpting, texturing and painting the portraits from the two case
studies providing a detailed analysis of the artistic sequences of creating painted white marble
portraits which may offer an explanation as to why white marbles were one of the most popularly
used sculptural materials during the first three centuries CE (see Section A). By doing so this
section will touch upon an important, but rarely included, aspect of experiencing ancient, sculptural
polychromy: their maintenance.
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CHAPTER 4
Case Study 1. The portraits from the Room of Fundilia
Case Study 1 presents a group of portraits dating to the middle of the first century CE, which all
originate from the so-called Room of Fundilia in the sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis south of Rome
(fig. B:10 and B:11).600 The individual portraits are identified based on inscriptions (see fig. B:22
and figs. Ap3.2-7).601 The group includes:
-
a togatus portraying Gaius Fundilius Doctus (referred to as Fundilius, cat. No. 1) (Fig. B:1),
who was an actor (Apollinis Parasitus),
-
a statue of a mature woman identified as Fundilia Rufa (referred to as Fundilia, cat. No. 2)
(Fig. B:2), who was the former owner (patrona) of Fundilius,
-
a bust portrait with matching herm shaft also identified as Fundilia Rufa (cat. No. 3) (Fig.
B:3),
-
a bust portrait with matching herm shaft identified as Staia Quinta (referred to as Quinta,
cat. No. 4) (Fig. B:4), who was a freedwoman,
-
a bust portrait with matching herm shaft identified as Quintus Hostius Capito (referred to as
Capito, cat. No. 5) (Fig. B:5), who was a Rhetor,
-
and a bust portrait with matching herm shaft of Lucius Anninius Rufus (referred to as Rufus,
cat. No. 6) (Fig. B:6), who may have been related to Fundilia.
Three additional portrait heads were also examined, because they were found in the Room of
Fundilia and therefore seem to have belonged to the group:
-
a bust portrait with matching herm shaft of Licinia Chrysarion (referred to as Chrysarion,
cat. No. 7) (Fig. B:7),
-
a bust portrait of a mature, unidentified man wearing a wreath with inserted flowers (cat.
No. 8) (Fig. B:8), and
-
a bust portrait of an unidentified, young woman (cat. No. 9) (Fig.: B:9).
In Section C I will debate the original, visual appearances of these portraits according to their
original context and interrelationship as a portrait group. However, due to what recent excavations
have documented on the activities within the sanctuary and the Room of Fundilia, the original
The dating of the portraits has been debated amongst scholars. Poulsen 1941, 44-47; Boschung 2002, 110; Moltesen
2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 300. The dissertation returns to this debate below.
601
For details on the translations and how the inscriptions may communicate the relationships between the persons
portrayed see Appendix 3.
600
119
context of the portraits as a group can be questioned.602 An account of the excavation campaigns of
the Room of Fundilia, followed by an extended argumentation in favour of the hypothesis that the
portraits were originally and deliberately (at some point) put on display within the room with the
purpose of being visually experienced as a group, is therefore provided for in Appendix 3. In the
section below follows a description of the sanctuary and the display of the portraits.
B4.1: The Diana Nemorensis sanctuary
The sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis is located south of Rome in the Alban Mountains by a volcanic
crater lake (Lake Nemi; also known as Lacus Dianae, Lacus Triviae or Speculum Dianae) (fig. B:10
and B:11).603 It is difficult to establish when the cult of Diana was founded, but archaeological
remains suggest that the sanctuary goes back at least to the archaic period.604 The sanctuary was
accessed from the Via Appia (the main road leading from Rome to Brindisi), and epigraphic
evidence from dedications within the sanctuary, and archaeological excavations of the areas
surrounding it, suggests that Nemi was a popular travel destination for the nobility of Rome and the
elite of the local communities.605
The sanctuary was constantly remodelled (fig. B:11).606 By the end of the second century BCE, the
sanctuary was given a large paved terrace (measuring 200x175 m) (B:11,A). In the north-eastern
area of the sanctuary a portico (R) was erected to support the upper terrace (B:11,B) on which a
nymphaeum (V) was built during the first century BCE.607 The portico followed the terrace at least
from the south-eastern to the northern wall –and perhaps extending further.608
The portico (fig. B:11,R) was supported by sequences of rooms, niches and exedras, of which the
rooms following the north/north-eastern wall have been thoroughly documented by several
602
The different stages of building activities within the Room of Fundilia shows, that the portraits, which were
produced in the middle of the first century CE, could not have been put on display within the room immediately after
their date of production, indicating that they were therefore not intended for this context. For the building activities in
the Room of Fundilia and its surrounding environments, see Ghini 2014, 17-33. See also Appendix3.
603
Mysteries 1983, 15-20; Guldager Bilde 1997A, 9.
604
The area, upon which the sanctuary was built, hosted – perhaps also religious - activities from as early as the Bronze
Age Ghini 2014, 17.
605
Epigraphic evidence from the sanctuary reveals many dedications from leading men from the nearby city of Aricia,
and archaeological excavations in the area have uncovered the remains of luxury villas dating to the late republic and
early empire: See Moltesen and Poulsen 2010; Benedetii 2014, 483-498.
Written testimonies support that the areas surrounding the Nemi lake was popular in Roman times. According to Cicero
and Suetonius, Julius Caesar had a villa erected by the Nemi lake; Guldager Bilde 1997B, 16. Furthermore Caligula had
two large ships (functioning as luxurious floating villas) placed on the lake. Mysteries 1983, 19-20; Zahle 1997, 17-22.
606
For an overview of the different remodeling stages, see: Ghini 2014, 17-33.
607
On the structure and function of the nymphaeum see: Diosono 2014, 195-218; Minicis 2014, 235-246.
608
The excavation campaigns are ongoing and have yet to clarify the extent of the portico.
120
excavation campaigns (fig. B:11,M).609 The rooms were erected beneath the portico during the first
century BCE (fig. B:12), and the portraits concerning this chapter were found in the areas of the socalled Room of Fundilia (Fig. B:13,a).610 The rooms beneath the portico seem to have been in use
until the late fourth century CE and activity at the site can be traced all the way up to the Middle
Ages.611
The individual rooms were remodelled during the two first centuries CE, mostly due to continuing
collapses of the walls from the pressure of the upper terrace.612At some point during the second
century CE, the wooden roof of the Republican construction was replaced by vaulted masonry (fig.
B:12,2). In the rooms of the north-eastern corner of the lower terrace, restorations on the walls
supporting the upper terrace indicates attempts at strengthening the Republican construction
following the devastating results of an earthquake leading to complete collapse of the portico and
the rooms beneath it, sometime during the middle of the second century CE.613
The rooms beneath the portico were in use until the fourth century CE, meaning that the sculptures
could have been put together within the Room of Fundilia as a group at any time between their date
of production (middle first century CE) and when the activity within the sanctuary ceased
(sometime during the fourth century CE).614 The portraits were excavated during two campaigns
focussing on the front of the room and later the back of the room in the late 1880’s, however their
exact findspots were not registered (Fig. B:14).615
Due to their overall well-preserved state (see B4.2 and the Catalogue), it is reasonable to assume
that the portrait sculptures were put on display inside the room after the earthquake of the second
century CE, which caused the portico to collapse, and which would have crushed the sculptures had
609
On the excavation campaigns of the site: Savile 1885/86, 60-74; Lanciani 1885A, 159-160, 192-193, 227-228, 254255, 317-321, 344, 428-429, 478-479; Lanciani 1885B, 477-478; Helbig 1885, 225-242; Borsari 1887, 23-25, 120-121,
195-198, Borsari 1888, 193-196, 392-393, 708-709; Borsari 1895, 106-108, 206, 232, 324; Poulsen 1941, 1-8, 22-24;
Mysteries 1983, 21-24; Guldager Bilde 1997C, 23-25; Moltesen 1997, 26-33; Ghini 1997, 43-51; Ghini 2000, 53-63;
Guldager Bilde 2000, 93-109; Fejfer 2008, 286; Ghini and Diosono 2012; Moltesen 2012, 136-137; Ghini 2014, 19-20.
See also Appendix 3.
610
Ghini 2014, 17-38; Spaccini 2014, 611-622; Rubini and Zaio 2014, 623-634. For a more detailed account on the
excavation campaigns see Appendix 3.
611
Ghini 2014, 19-23.
612
Ghini 2014, 24.
613
Ghini 2014, 21.
614
Ghini 2014, 27.
615
See note 11.
121
they been placed beneath it.616 The portrait sculptures were all found within the same room (with
the one exception of the shaft belonging to Chrysarion, see Appendix 3 and fig. B:13), it seems
reasonable to conclude, that the Room of Fundilia was – if not their first, then – their final
context.617 And it is this context, and how the Roman viewer was meant to experience the portraits
within it, which is relevant to this dissertation.
The Room of Fundilia
The portrait sculptures of Case Study 1were found in, or around, one of the rooms beneath the
portico, known as the Room of Fundilia (fig. B:14 and B:15). On a drawing made by Luigi Borsari
and published in Notizie degli Scavi in 1887, what may be regarded as the original placements of
the portrait sculptures are indicated (fig. B:14,A). Based on this drawing, reconstructions of how the
sculptures may originally have been put on display has been made more than once; most recently in
relation to a small exhibition on Nemi at the NCG in 2014 (fig. 2:15).
The Room of Fundilia measures 6x5.60 m with two fluted columns (measuring 70 cm. in diam.)
framing the entrance. The columns were originally stuccoed and painted red. The same colour
covered the walls with the addition of decorative paintings, of which little is preserved. A mosaic
takes up the entire floor (fig. B:16), except for three rectangular spaces along the back wall intended
for statue bases (fig. B:14,B).618 The mosaic consists of a regular geometric pattern composed by a
black centre (B:16), with an inscription placed in a tabula incerta (fig. B:16,A), framed by a white
band with a black floral decoration followed by a black outline. The inscription in the tabula incerta
reads:
616
I thank Francesca Diosono for discussing this particular issue. The author also thanks Anabel Bokern for sharing her
interesting theories of how the herm portraits may have been reworked to fit the physical dimensions of the Room of
Fundilia from larger statuary formats to the abbreviated herm sculptures.
617
Moving portraits from context to context was not an uncommon phenomenon in the Roman Empire; in fact, modern
scholars should expect the majority of the contexts of Roman marble portraits to have been originally re-negotiated on a
regular level, meaning that contexts should be perceived as neither fixed nor static, ”Portraits were continuously being
removed from their original location, reused in part or as whole or moved to a new context and given new meanings and
decorative emphases.” Fejfer 2008, 435. See also Marlowe 2013. Appendix 3 discusses how the portraits were
originally meant to be visually perceived as a group in more detail.
618
Vincenti 2014, 117.
122
M. SERVILIVS. QVARTVS. ALAM. EXPOLIT. ET. ET. QVAE. INTVS. POSITA. SVNT. DIA.
(M. Servilius Quartus decorated this room and (…) to Diana dedicated (?) that which is exhibited
herein).619
Surrounding the tabula incerta, the centre of the mosaic is a regular pattern composed of a black
centre with small, inserted white diamonds. Encircling the black centre is depicted an ivy vegetation
made of black stones on a white background. Four amphorai are placed by the edges of the square’s
black centre (fig. B:16,B), as are four kantharoi at the middle of each diagonal (fig. 2:16,C).
B4.2: The portrait sculptures
This section will present the portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia individually, including a
short description of their state of preservation, a summary account of their individual style of
execution (such as detailing and surface texturing), and what the scientific examinations were able
to reveal on their individual paint remains.
The presentation will highlight certain artistic features which will be relevant to the discussions of
the overall purpose and significance of painting on marble portraits in Chapters 7 and 8. Adequate
information on the individual portraits (such as detailed stylistic descriptions, state of preservation,
conservation history and complete information of their scientific examinations, including
methodology) is provided in the Catalogue.
The statue of Gaius Fundilius Doctus (cat. No. 1)
The statue portrays a mature man dressed in a tunica and toga (fig. B:1).620 What remains of the
statue is made from fine-grained, elastic Afyon marble (fig. Ap3.1). Besides the missing arms, the
statue is in an overall good state of preservation, and has been extensively cleaned in modern times.
The overall surface of the statue is white and uniform, without calcareous layers, and bears traces
from modern cleaning. The face in particular has received extensive cleaning, and the once
chiselled eyebrows have been almost erased (fig. B:17).
On details regarding the translation of the mosaic, see Poulsen 1941, 21-22; Guldager Bilde 1997F, 116.
Copenhagen, NCG, IN 707. Poulsen 1941, 34-38; Johansen 1994, 182-183 (cat. No 79); Moltesen 1997, 142 (no.
22); Salskov Roberts 1997, 119; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 285-286; Moltesen 2012,
134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 14-16; Skovmøller 2014 286-293.
619
620
123
The sculptural execution of the statue is detailed and delicate. Fundilius is portrayed with cropped
hair, combed from back to front, executed by a chisel, and with little volume or plasticity. The
surface of the skin is matte polished; the eyes are almond shaped with chiselled eyebrows pulled
together over the nose. The nose is long, the mouth small with tightly closed lips, and the receding
chin has a rounded cleft.
Fundilius is portrayed wearing a toga with a tunica underneath. The execution of the narrow folds
of the tunica mimics the effects of a thin fabric revealing the contours of a fit male chest underneath
(fig.: B:18). The folds of the toga are deep-set and were executed by chisel and drill. Great attention
has been given to the detailing: small folds cover the surface of the marble, providing an illusion of
a wrinkled fabric (fig. B:19), and following the folds draped over the left arm, the hem of the toga is
shaped as curvy lines (fig. B:20). Appearing from beneath the toga are thin, leather boots, calcei,621
with an over fold, and by the left foot is a cylinder shaped book casket, a capsa, repeating the
inscription from the plinth (on the inscription see Appendix3) (fig. B:21). The plinth is cut from
travertine, into which the statue is inserted, and roughly textured contrasting the velvet-like polish
of the boots (fig. B:22). Between the proper left foot and the capsa is an empty space, which has
been given a roughly textured surface finish (fig. B:22). The back is flatly sculpted with little
plasticity and almost no detail, indicating that the statue was originally meant to be seen from the
front (fig. B:23).
Although extensively cleaned, examinations of the original painted polychromy of the statue
revealed remaining colour in the hair, on the tunica, toga, on the vacant space between the capsa
and proper left food and on the plinth (fig. B:24).622 In the hair, minute traces of red and brown
ochre pigments were present; best preserved on the back side (fig. B:25). On the tunica a few traces
of red ochre pigments are preserved on the proper right shoulder, and on the toga the same shade of
red ochre is preserved on the surface of specific areas of the garment including the balteus,
following the curve of the sinus and on the lacinia between the feet. On the back side of the toga a
cohesive red paint layer, applied directly onto the marble surface, forms a line following the folds of
the fabric (fig. B:26). Also, what may be interpreted as Egyptian blue pigment grains, due to the
results from VIL photography, are documented in the deeply drilled folds of the toga (fig. B:27).623
621
Goette 1988, 461.
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 20.
623
As stated in A1.3 identifications of Egyptian blue pigments solely by means of VIL photography should be
considered as preliminary. However, when the luminescent particles appears as particularly shining bright white and
forming deliberate patterns, which support the sculptural execution of the marble (such as the particles observed
622
124
On the empty space between the left foot and the book casket, a compact layer, of what also may be
Egyptian Blue pigments, is documented (fig. B:28). Blue grains (identified as Egyptian blue) are
preserved together with brown and red ochre as scattered particles all over the plinth.
The statue of Fundilia Rufa (cat. No. 2)
The statue of Fundilia portrays a mature woman (fig. B:2).624 The head is made from Afyon marble,
while the body is made from Carrara marble (fig. Ap3.1). Apart from the few missing pieces (the
fingers on the extended proper left hand and the bun once incerted at the top of the head), the statue
is in a fine state of preservation. The surface of the statue appears dirty and discoloured and bears
traces from modern cleaning.
Fundilia is portrayed with her hair gathered in a nodus at the forehead and pulled back into a once
inserted, but now missing, bun at the top of the head (fig. B:29).The sculptural execution of the
coiffure is with little volume, and the individual strands of hair have been accentuated by flat chisel,
with little plasticity. The surface of the exposed skin areas of the face has been smoothened to a
matte polish; the eyes are large and round, the nose distinct and the lips full. The face appears
mature with accentuated, high cheekbones, a slightly furrowed forehead and shades of bags under
the eyes (fig. B:30).
The statue is clad in three different layers of garments, separated visually by different techniques of
execution. The bottom layer is visible by the neck as voluminous folds, indicating a thin fabric (fig.
B:31). Above the bottom layer is a second, intermediate layer of a garment dispensed from both
shoulders by clasps (fig. B:32) creating a v-shaped draping on the upper chest. This second garment
was executed with extensive use of drill and chisel, providing the effect of compact folds, perhaps
seeking to imitate a coarser type of fabric. The third and top layer is a large mantle covering the two
underlying garments almost concealing the entire statuary body (fig. B:2). It is pulled over both
shoulders and draped around the lower body extending to just above the feet. The sculpted mantle
was executed by use of drill and chisel, creating numerous deep folds, while the surfaces of the
most pronouncing folds are dedicatedly textured, creating a superficial herringbone-shaped criss-
between the folds of the toga of Fundilius), I have chosen to interpret the particles as Egyptian blue. For more on VIL
technology, and its strengths and weaknesses, see Appendix 2. For more on general pigment identification, see A1.3.
For more on the pigment identifications on the individual portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2, see the Catalogue.
624
NCG, Copenhagen, inv. No. 708.Poulsen 1941, 32-34; Johansen 1994, 184-185 (cat. No 80); Moltesen 1997, 141
(no. 20); Salskov Roberts 1997, 119-120; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 286-300;
Moltesen 2012, 134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 16.
125
cross pattern (fig. B:33). At the end of one of the mantle folds, draped over the proper left arm, is
what appears to be a sculpted tassel (fig. B:34). Immediately above the feet, appearing from below
the almost fully covering mantle, are the lower parts of a garment; its style of execution is similar to
the narrow folds of the v-shaped intermediate layer visible on the chest (fig. B:35).
Although affected by modern cleaning, the examinations of the statue’s original polychromy proved
a once, fully painted surface of the entire statue (fig. B:36).625 Traces of red/brown ochre are
documented in the hair, mixed in with – what may be interpreted as – Egyptian blue pigments based
on VIL-photography.626 VIL photo analysis documented what may also be Egyptian Blue grains
following the rims of upper and lower eyelids of the proper right eye, and in the paint mixture used
for the white of the eyeballs, which revealed a ‘shadow’ of a once painted pupil (fig. B:37).
Furthermore a pale pink paint mixture is preserved between the lips (fig. B:38).
On the mantle, which covers a large proportion of the entire statuary body, remains from a dark
red/purple paint mixture, sometimes forming cohesive layers applied directly onto the herringbone
scratched marble surface, is preserved in several areas (fig. B:39). Results from XRF analysis
indicates that these paint layers mainly consists of ochre pigments (haematite). Furthermore
unidentified blue, black and yellow pigments, in a variety of hues, are preserved in several areas of
the surface of the concealing mantle (fig. B:40).
On the v-shaped garment, appearing on the upper chest, extensive remains of Egyptian blue
pigments (visible to the naked eye, and identified by VIL and microscopy); both mixed with
red/orange unidentified pigments, and concentrated in between the deeply drilled folds, are
preserved. A similar combination of pigments was observed on the garments appearing from
beneath the large mantle just above the feet (fig. B:41).
What may be interpreted as Egyptian blue pigments were documented by VIL photography on the
plinth, as well as minute, scattered red and brown pigment grains.
625
626
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 20-25.
See above note 25.
126
The herm portrait of Fundilia Rufa (cat. No. 3)
The portrait herm of Fundilia portrays a mature woman with features similar to those on the statue
(see above, cat. No. 2) (fig. B:3).627 The herm is made from five pieces of unidentified white
marble. What remains of the herm is in an overall intact state of preservation. It has been
extensively cleaned leaving the surface in a uniform greyish and matte finish. Vague traces from
once covering, but now removed, root marks can be seen with the naked eye in several areas of the
surface of the mantle and the back of the head, testifying to extensive modern cleaning (B:42).
The sculpting of the facial features resembles that of the statue (cat. No. 2, see fig. B:30 and fig.
B:43), although results from 3D-scannings of both portraits have revealed that they were not
executed entirely alike.628 The herm portrait was given slightly larger eyes, fuller lips, smaller nose
and thinner neck. The coiffure is also executed slightly differently than the one seen on the statue.
While the statue is portrayed with a nodus gathered at the front of the hair, the hair on the herm is
parted only in the proper left side (above the eye), and combed in a wavy line from right to left, to
be gathered at the back of the head in an inserted bun (fig. B: 43).
The herm shaft is rectangular and clad in a long dress, belted by the waist, and a mantle draped
above the dress and over the proper left shoulder, covering the left breast and most of the lower
body. Both garments are shaped without volume following the square shape of the herm shaft.
Due to modern cleaning the remains of the once fully painted polychromy of the portrait herm are
sparse.629 A preserved paint layer of a saturated reddish/brown hue has been documented on the
mantle, testifying to a once basic colouration of that nuance (fig. B:44 and B:45). Scattered,
unidentified red grains have been documented in the hair and on the skin (fig. B:46). On the dress
red grains have been documented, along with a horizontal border of Egyptian blue-based paint layer
above the feet (fig. B:47).630 Finally compact layers of paint of reddish hues are preserved in the
letters of the inscription carried on the plinth (fig. B:48).
Nottingham, Castle Museum, inv. No. 827.Poulsen 1941, 22-26; Moltesen 1997, 142 (No. 21); Salskov Roberts
1997, 119-121; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 286-300; Moltesen 2012, 134-136;
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 16.
628
Katharina Lorenz scanned both portraits in 2011. On the process and results see:
http://nemitonottingham.wordpress.com/2013/08/28/3d-scanning-fundilia-research-on-the-statuary-finds-from-thesanctuary-of-diana-at-nemi/.
629
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 25.
630
See above note 25.
627
127
The herm portrait of Staia Quinta (cat. No. 4)
The portrait bust of Quinta is in a complete state of preservation with minor chippings along the
edges of the rounded chest (fig. B:4 and B:49).631 The bust is made from Parian marble, while the
shaft is made from an unidentified, dark marble with white veins (fig. Ap3.1). The skin and the
pronouncing parts of the curled hair locks have a uniform, white surface finish, which testifies to
dedicated cleaning in modern times. In between the drilled curls of the coiffure are compact layers
of encrustations.
The sculptural execution of the portrait head is delicate and detailed. She is portrayed wearing a
buttoned tunica and a curled and braided hair coiffure. The hair is parted in the middle terminating
in voluminous curls framing the face at both sides of the head; at the back of the head the hair is
gathered in a thick braid held in place by a ribbon (fig. B:50). The surface of the skin is matte
polished. The eyes are large with sculpted upper- and lower eyelids, and the eyebrows are indicated
by two horizontal, curved lines. The nose is slim and long, the mouth is small with closed, thin lips
above a receding chin. On the neck are two Venus curves. She wears a buttoned tunica, which has
slipped down leaving the proper right shoulder bare. The tunica was executed by chisel and with
little voluminous folds mimicking the effects of a thin and delicate textile.
Results from examinations of paint traces show that the bust was once fully polychrome (fig.
B:51).632 The best preserved remaining paint is in the hair: red and yellow ochre and a little of what
may be Egyptian-blue are preserved as scattered grains and coherent paint layers on top of the
curled hair locks (fig. B:52). Between the curled locks, and embedded in the encrusted layers, are
preserved cohesive paint layers, consisting of mainly layers of red hues covered by layers of
saturated yellow hue (fig. B:53). Little red ochre was found on the exposed skin in areas of the neck
testifying to a once covering skin colour (fig. B:54). A compact red layer, which can be seen with
the naked eye, is preserved on the button of the tunica on the left shoulder (fig. B:55). XRF analysis
suggests that the red layers mainly consist of ochre. Furthermore red ochre pigments are evenly
spread all over the surface of the tunica.
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 1435. Poulsen 1941, 46-47; Johansen 1994, 196-197 (cat. No 86); Moltesen 1997, 143
(No. 24); Salskov Roberts 1997, 123; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 302-303; Moltesen
2012, 134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 16-17.
632
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 25.
631
128
The herm portrait of Quintus Hostius Capito (cat. No. 5)
The portrait bust of Capito is in a good state of preservation (fig. B:5 and B:56).633 The bust is made
from Parian marble, while the shaft is made from an unidentified, dark marble with white veins (fig.
Ap3.1). The front of the fringes and the tip of the nose are missing. Also the front piece of the upper
chest has broken off and is now restored in plaster. The surface appears overall clean, and bears
traces from modern cleaning.
The head portrays a mature man with short cut hair: the skin surface of his clean shaven face has
received the same matte polish; the eyes are almond shaped with sculpted upper- and lower eyelids
and the eyebrows are straight and horizontal; the nose is long and distinct and the mouth small with
tightly closed lips; the chin is small and receding.
Examinations of its original polychromy proved remains from a once fully covering painted finish
(fig. B:57). Red mixed with little yellow ochre and bright red cinnabar is preserved in the hair; both
as scattered pigments and as cohesive layers (fig. B:58).634 Red paint layers are preserved following
the rims of upper and lower eyelids in the proper left eye. What may be interpreted as Egyptian blue
pigments (based on VIL-photography) has been documented in the hair and on the skin – in
particular in the areas around the mouth (fig. B:59). In the letters of the inscription on the herm
shaft, remains from an unidentified blue paint mixture (not containing Egyptian blue according to
VIL) can be seen with the naked eye (fig. B:60).
The herm portrait of Lucius Anninius Rufus (cat. No. 6)
Apart from chippings along the edges of the chest, the portrait bust of Rufus is in a complete state
of preservation (fig. B:6 and B:61).635 The bust is made from Parian marble, while the shaft is made
from an unidentified, dark marble with white veins (fig. Ap3.1). It bears traces from extensive
modern cleaning. The stylistic execution is delicate and detailed. The head portrays a young man,
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 1436. Poulsen 1941, 47-48; Johansen 1994, 194-195 (cat. No 85); Moltesen 1997, 143
(no. 23); Salskov Roberts 1997, 123; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 301; Moltesen 2012,
134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 17.
634
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 25.
635
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 1437. Poulsen 1941, 30-32; Johansen 1994, 192-193 (cat. No 84); Moltesen 1997, 144
(no. 25); Salskov Roberts 1997, 121; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 301; Moltesen 2012,
134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 17.
633
129
with cropped hair and clean shaven face. The hair locks are summarily executed with little volume
and the surface of the exposed skin is matte polished.
Due to the modern cleaning, results from the examinations of the portrait showed few remains from
its original painting (fig. B:62). Unidentified pigments in varying shades of red and reddish brown
are scattered in several areas of the skin (fig. B:63).636 A concentration of a variety of different
shades of red, as well as small amounts of brown is preserved following the borders of the fringe on
the forehead and covering small areas on the back of the neck (fig. B:64).
The herm portrait of Licinia Chrysarion (cat. No. 7)
The head of Licinia has minor chippings following the edges of the rounded chest but is otherwise
in a complete state of preservation.637 The bust is made from Carrara marble, while the shaft is
made from an unidentified, dark marble with white veins (fig. Ap3.1). Modern cleaning is visible in
several areas; in particular the skin surface (fig. B:7 and B:65).
The sculptural execution of the portrait head is delicate and detailed. The hair is parted in the
middle and the individually, flatly chiselled strands of hair are gathered at the back of the head in a
thick braid. The strands of hair have been accentuated by flat chisel with little volume, resembling
the style of execution of the hair on the portraits of Fundilia Rufa (cat. No. 2, fig. B:29). The hair is
held in place by a thin braid. The surface of the exposed skin is matte polished and once chiselled
eyebrows are barely visible due to modern cleaning (fig. B:66). She is portrayed as a mature woman
with high cheek bones, short nose and full lips.
Remains from the once fully, covering polychromy of the head is documented on both skin and hair
(fig. B:67).638 The hair remains of red and brown ochre are preserved as both scattered pigments
and cohesive layers in the hair and on the skin (fig. B:68 and B:69). Also extensive use of Egyptian
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 30.
Head: Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 761. Poulsen 1941, 448-49; Johansen 1994, 188-189 (cat. No 82); Moltesen
1997, 145 (no. 27).
Shaft: Nottingham, Castle Museum, inv. No. 830. Poulsen 1941, 49;Moltesen 1997, 146 (no. 29).
During the exhibition, ‘I Dianas Hellige Lund’ (In the sacred grove of Diana) in the NCG in 1997 head and shaft were
successfully paired. Salskov Roberts 1997, 124; 124; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 302303; Moltesen 2012, 134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 17-19..
638
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 30.
636
637
130
blue is indicated by VIL photography of the hair and the skin (especially around the eyes) (fig.
B:70).639
Portrait head of man wearing a wreath (cat. No. 8)
The bust is made from Parian marble (fig. Ap3.1). The portrait head of the man wearing a wreath is
in a complete state of preservation, with only minor chippings following the edge of the chest, and
bears traces from extensive modern cleaning (fig. B:8).640
The head portrays a mature man with a clean shaven face, and the cropped hair is covered by a
wreath of leaves and flowers. The strands of hair have been summarily indicated by light use of flat
chisel. The skin is matte polished, distinct nasolabial folds mark both cheeks; the eyebrows are
horizontally accentuated and drawn together above the nose, and crow’s feet are highlighted by
both eyes giving the portrait a mature, somewhat elderly, expression.
The head has been thoroughly cleaned, however, remains from a once fully covering painted finish
were documented by results from examinations (fig. B:71). The best preserved paint was
documented in the hair where red and brown pigments, still visible to the naked eye, testify to its
original polychromy (fig. B:72). Few unidentified, scattered red pigments are also documented on
the skin, (fig. B:73).641 On the flowers on the wreath are preserved scattered red pigment grains (fig.
B:74).
Portrait head of unidentified, young woman (cat. No. 9)
The portrait head of the young, unidentified woman is in a fine state of preservation (fig. B:9).642
The bust is made from Parian marble (fig. Ap3.1). The tip of the nose is missing, and the chest has
been reassembled by two pieces.643 The head has been cleaned in modern times; in particular in the
639
See above note 25.
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 1438. Poulsen 1941, 42; Johansen 1994, 186-187 (cat. No 81); Moltesen 1997, 145 (No.
28); Salskov Roberts 1997, 121; Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 300-301; Moltesen 2012,
134-136; Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 19.
641
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 30.
642
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 759. Poulsen 1941, 48; Johansen 1994, 190-191 (cat. No 83); Moltesen 1997, 144 (no.
26); Guldager Bilde 2000, 96; Moltesen 2000, 113; Fejfer 2008, 300-303; Moltesen 2012, 134-136; Skovmøller and
Sargent 2014, 19.
643
Moltesen 2000, 113.
640
131
facial areas, while the hair and especially the deep-set cavities between the drilled locks are covered
by encrustations.
The portrait is detailed and delicately executed, resembling the portrait of Staia Quinta (cat. No. 4)
in both style and technical execution. The unidentified young woman is portrayed with an elaborate
coiffure parted in the middle, curled at the sides and braided at the back of the head (fig. B:75). The
strands of hair have been accentuated by light use of flat chisel. The surfaces of the skin areas are
matte polished; the face is full with a small mouth and big, almond-shaped eyes. She wears what
appears to be a tunica. The garment was executed with chisel and little plasticity, mimicking a thin
and delicate textile; much like the tunica worn on the portrait of Staia Quinta mentioned above.
Remains of the original polychromy of the head are preserved – in particular in the hair (fig.
B:76).644 What may be identified as Egyptian blue pigments are preserved between the chiselled
and drilled hair locks (fig. B:77) together with red and sparse yellow ochre.645 The combination of
pigments resembles the remaining colour in the hair of Staia Quinta (see above, cat. No. 4)
mentioned above; yet the amount of red ochre in the hair of the unidentified young woman is
higher. On the tunica are – what appear to be – Egyptian blue pigments evenly spread all over the
surface of the garment (fig. B:78).
B4.3: Reconstructing the original polychromy of the portraits from the Room of
Fundilia
On all the portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia, results from examinations allow for full or
partial experimental reconstructions of their original polychromy.
All of the reconstructions have been executed in photoshop. They are experimental and should
neither be considered as final nor fixed: their goal is to visualize what the portraits might have
looked like originally, based on the results from their examinations. For more information see
Appendix2.646
All of the portraits have been reconstructed in a so-called variant A or variant B. In the variant A
reconstructions, interpretations have been kept at a minimum; while the variant B reconstructions
are more experimental, including also comparative material.
Skovmøller and Sargent 2014, 30.
See above note 25.
646
Executed in cooperation with Lars Hummelshøj.
644
645
132
Hair
On all the portraits, pigments in different hues of yellow, red and brown ochres and carbon black
and Egyptian blue, ranging in saturation, tone and brightness, are found in varying amounts in the
sculpted hair. Using several pigments for painting the hair on Roman marble portraits seems to have
been standard practice during the first three centuries CE. Results from examinations of the wellpreserved paint remains on a portrait of Caligula prove that various pigments were used by the
Roman craftsmen for composing the paint mixtures used for colouring the brown hue of the hair,
including red, brown, little yellow, black and Egyptian blue (fig. 0:5, A:22 and B:79).647 Carbon
black mixed with Egyptian blue pigments were used for what appears to have been underdrawings
(located beneath the layer of skin paint), which can still be seen with the naked eye above both ears
(fig. B:79).648 This testifies to a technique where the Roman painter would have returned to the
same areas more than once, ‘building up’ the tonal value of the hair colour through several stages of
applying paint layers of different pigment mixtures. On the Treu Head similar painting techniques
(including returning to the same areas more than once) were observed in the well-preserved painted
hair (fig. A:30).649 The hair of the unidentified650 goddess was painted in a yellow hue by using
ochre ‘modelled’ by red ochre and creating shadow effects complimenting the plasticity of the
sculpted locks (fig. A:32).651 On the female head from Aphrodisias the hair was painted using black
and Egyptian blue for the shadow effects in the deeply sculpted recesses of the voluminous hair,
covered by layers of red, yellow and sometimes leaf gold (on the pronouncing parts) (fig. A:33 and
B:80).
It is reasonable to assume that the colours of the hair on the portraits from Nemi were applied using
overall similar painting techniques. Unfortunately the absence of cohesive paint layers (except for
Quinta and the unidentified young woman) makes such statements largely speculative. Identifying a
high concentration of red and brown ochre pigments in the hair of the portraits does not necessarily
mean an original red or brown hair colour; such pigments could just as well have been a part of a
much more complex paint mixture and/or layering technique. However, in the case of the portrait of
Capito, presence of red pigments, consisting of red ochre pigments, which vary in hue and
Johansen 1994, cat. No. 56. For more information on the results from the examinations of the portrait of Caligula,
see Østergaard 2003, 198-203, Østergaard 2004, 119-127, and www.trackingcolour.com.
648
Østergaard 2003, 124-125; Abbe 2015, 178.
649
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010.
650
It has been suggested that the Treu Head may have depicted Minerva. Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014, 153.
651
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 51.
647
133
brightness, and which were mixed with red cinnabar, suggests an original reddish hue of the painted
hair colour (fig. B:81). By mixing the red ochre together with red cinnabar pigments, the craftsmen
exploited and extended the material properties of the cinnabar pigments, creating a more saturated
and bright red hue. The same practice has been observed on Roman wall paintings from Pompeii,
where cinnabar was deliberately added to extend and enhance the colour properties of the red ochre.
It therefore seems likely that the originally intended hue of the hair on the portrait of Capito was
meant to be reddish.652
The paint layer consisting of red and brown pigments in the hair of Fundilius, by the fringes on the
forehead on the portrait of Rufus and in the hair of the man wearing a wreath, suggests that the hair
on all three portraits may originally have been painted in colours of brownish/red hues (fig.B:82,
B:83 and B:84). On the braid gathered at the back of the head on the portrait of Chrysarion and in
the hair on the portrait head of the statue of Fundilia Egyptian Blue pigments, in combination with
red and brown ochre, indicate an original dark hair colour of indefinable hue (fig. B:85 and B:86).
The only exceptions to the use of a broad colour palette for painting the hair are the portraits of
Quinta and the unidentified Roman woman. The colour palettes used for painting the elaborate
coiffures on the two portraits of the young women consisted of two single hues of yellow and red.
The hair on the portrait of Quinta appears to have been primarily yellow, and ‘modelled’ by red
colour –together with Egyptian blue – to provide shadow effects (fig. B:87). This extensive use of
yellow in combination with little red indicates that the yellow paint layers constituted the basic
colouration providing a dominant yellow hue. On the portrait of the young unidentified woman the
high amount of red ochre suggests that the red paint, in this case, was extended to the basic
colouration as well, providing a hair colour with a more reddish hue (fig. B:88).
Well-preserved paint remains in the hair of other female ideal heads, including the Treu Head
(mentioned above) and a female head from Aphrodisias,653 show similar uses of respectively red
and yellow for painting their hair in different tonal values of reddish and yellow hues (see above).
Furthermore examinations of a statue representing a wounded Amazon, the so-called Sciarra
Amazon in the NCG (fig. B:89), dating to the middle of the second century CE and perhaps
originating from the Gardens of Sallust in Rome, showed that the hair, in this case, was painted with
652
On the examined wall paintings from Pompeii, cinnabar is rarely identified in its pure form but commonly observed
in paint mixtures containing hematite (ochre). Siddall 2006, 24. Mixing hematite with cinnabar has also been identified
in the red paint mixture used for colouring the horses on a tall pyxides, dating to the late fifth century BCE and
originating from a workshop in Attica. See Brecoulaki, Kavvadias and Verri 2014, 155.
653
Therkildsen 2012, 45-63. See also http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/106.
134
extensive yellow ochre suggesting an original yellow hair colour (fig. B:90).654 However, on a
marble head, which may have originally belonged to an ideal statue of the same type as the Amazon
statue in Copenhagen, but dating to the first century CE and recently excavated at Herculanum in
2006, extensive remains of red ochre testify to what may have been an original dominant reddish
hue of the sculpted hair (fig. B:91).655
It therefore seems likely that the two portraits of the young women, which were executed in Parian
marble, in similar proportions and by using similar sculpting techniques, were also painted using
similar techniques of application, incorporating few pigments to create two saturated, singular hues
of different yellow and reddish tonal values.
Skin surfaces
The marble surfaces of the skin areas on all the portraits from the Room of Fundilia have been
thoroughly cleaned removing almost all traces of original paint. Only the portraits of Quinta and
Rufus have preserved red and yellow ochre grains on the skin areas testifying to an original skin
colour. Also, few luminescent particles were documented by VIL photography on the heads of
Quinta, Fundilia (statue), Rufus, Capito, Chrysarion and the man wearing a wreath but whether such
scattered and vague luminescent particles should be interpret as Egyptian blue pigments, which
once belonged to a skin paint mixture, is difficult to conclude on.656
Despite the badly preserved skin paint documented on the portrait heads from Case Study 1, the few
remaining grains do, however, resemble the combination of pigments used for the well-preserved
paint layers of the fair, Caucasian skin colour, which can still be seen with the naked eye on the
portrait of Caligula (fig. 0:5)657, the female head from Aphrodisias (fig. A:33, A:34 and A:35)658 and
the Treu Head659 (fig. B:30, B:31 and B:32).660 The paint layers on the three marble heads were
Moltesen 2002, cat.no. 60; Sargent and Therkildsen 2010B. See alsohttp://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/21.
The Amazon head forms one of the Case Studies in the Statues in Context project, which seeks to enhance modern
understanding of ancientsculptural polychromy within a digitally simulated spatial context. Beale and Earl 2011.
656
On an Etruscan female figure originating from the so-called Isis Tomb in Vulci, scattered luminescent particles have
been observed in areas of the face. Due to the low concentration of the luminescent particles their presence have not
been interpreted as remains from the original skin paint, but as a result of its post-antique deposition, meaning that the
grains may have wandered from another place on the figure. See Verri, Gleba, Swaddling, Long, Ambers and Munden
2014, 62.
657
Østergaard 2009, 209-215. See also www.trackingcolour.com.
658
Therkildsen 2012, 45-63. See also www.trackingcolour.com.
659
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 43, Table one.
660
For other examples of preserved skin paint on white marble sculptures see Abbe, Borromeo and Pike, 2012; Blume
2012.
654
655
135
composed by red and yellow ochre mixed with Egyptian blue, and sometimes also white (either lead
white or calcium carbonate).
Furthermore the same basic combination of pigments has also been identified on the twodimensional mummy portraits, dating between the first and third centuries CE and originating from
Fauym, Egypt. A brief survey of the portrait of the young girl showed that the skin colour was
composed by mixing little Egyptian blue with yellow, red, white and madder lake for the basic skin
tone, while Egyptian blue together with brown ochre was applied for shadow effects (fig. A:17).661
Having the ‘right’ skin complexion is often emphasised in Greek and Roman written sources. Plato
writes (in the fifth/fourth century BCE) both of practices of mixing paint to obtain the ‘right’ skin
colour, but also of pigments which in themselves held the ‘proper’ tonal value for imitating human
flesh: ‘(…) just as painters, when they wish to produce an imitation, sometimes use only red,
sometimes some other color, and sometimes mix many colors, as when they are making a picture of
a man or something of that sort, employing each color, I suppose, as they think the particular picture
demands it. In just this way we, too, shall apply letters to things, using one letter for one thing,
when that seems to be required, or many letters together, forming syllables, as they are called, and
in turn combining syllables (…)’.662
Painting the skin on the white marble portraits was therefore not necessarily a complex practice of
mixing different pigments to obtain the desired visual effects, but could also have been obtained by
choosing one single pigment of the right colour properties. Pliny the Elder particularly highlights
red ochre from Sinopis (modern day Turkey) as a prized ochre type due to its varying hues of red
(rubens), faintly red (minus rubens) and the intermediate (see A1.3).663On the portrait head of
Tiberius in the NCG remains from a single, transparent layer consisting only of red ochre grains is
visible to the naked eye in several areas of skin (fig. B:92).664
Unfortunately the head has yet to be thoroughly examined, and it is therefore inconclusive whether
the red paint layer was the final application of a skin colour. However, the abundant preserved paint
remains suggest that skin colours on white marble sculptures could be obtained in a variety of ways,
applied using different techniques including therefore, presumably, also a variety of paint mixtures
The examinations were performed by conservator Charlotte Eschen. Results unpublished.
Furthermore, a mummy portrait of a young girl dating to the second century CE in the Nationalmuseum, Stockholm, has
been analyzed and the pigments used for painting the carnation colour identified: A stratum of lead white and yellow
ochre (measuring 30-50 µ) applied beneath a layer of lead white, red-violet madder lake, carbon black and yellow
ochres (measuring 75 mm). See Freccero 2000A, 43-48. For other examples, see Ramer 1979; Freccero 2000B, 183220; Reeler, Nielsen, Spaabæk, Jørgensen and Kjaergaard 2013, 1-11.
662
Pl. Cra. 424d-e. (Translation Harold N. Fowler 1921.) Gage 1993, 30.
663
Plin. HN. 35.31. Gage 1993, 30.
664
Johansen 1994, 118-119, cat.no. 47; Sargent and Therkildsen 2010A, fig. 2.
661
136
of different colour properties. The variety in application indicates that skin colour was considered
an important aspect of the visual expression of white marble sculptures and a feature that was given
special attention in technical execution.
In Physiognomonica (fourth century BCE) skin colour is closely connected to how one might judge
the character of a person: ‘Too black a hue marks the coward, as witness Egyptians and Ethiopians,
and so does also too white a complexion, as you may see from women. So the hue that makes for
courage must be intermediate between these extremes. A tawny colour indicates a bold spirit, as in
lions; but too ruddy a hue marks a rogue, as in the case of the fox. A pale mottled hue signifies
cowardice, for that is the colour one turns in terror. The honey-pale are cold, and coldness means
immobility, and an immobile body means slowness. A red hue indicates hastiness, for all parts of
the body on being heated by movement turn red. A flaming skin, however, indicates madness, for it
results from an overheated body, and extreme bodily heat is likely to mean madness.’665
Connecting the natural and physical colours of a person to his or her health, state of mind and
personality became intellectual exercises, guiding Roman thought in the late Republic and early
Empire.666 Vitruvius writes that climate affected not only the natural colours of the people living in
different regions, but also their characters: ‘Those, however, who are nearest to the southern climes
and under the sun’s orbit, owing to his violence, have a smaller stature, dark complexion, curly hair,
black eyes, strong legs, and thinness of blood. Therefore, also, because of their thin blood, they fear
to resist the sword, but endure heat and fever without fear, because their limbs are nourished by
heat. Those persons who are born under a northern sky, are weak and more timid in face of fever,
but fearlessly resist the sword owing to their fullness of blood.’667
Pliny the Elder notes in Naturalis Historiae that the best painters before his time used only four
basic colours: ‘Four colours only were used by the illustrious painters Apelles, Aetion, Melanthius
and Nicomachus to execute their immortal works – of whites, Melinum; of yellow ochres, Attic; of
reds, Pontic Sinopis; of blacks, atramentum (…).’668 These four colours mentioned by Pliny may be
related to the four ‘humours’, which Hippocrates argued that Man was made of: blood (red),
phlegm (white) and yellow and black bile.669 When mixed together and perfectly balanced those
four elements made up the perfect organism. Any internal shifts in this balance would cause an
665
Phgn.812a. The authorship is traditionally attributed Aristotle.
Thompson 1989, 104, 129-142; Bradley 2009B, 136.
667
Vitr.De arch. 6.1.4. (Translation Granger, Loeb 1934).
668
Plin.HN. 35.32 (translated by Rackham, Loeb, 1995). Bruno 1977, 17-19; Gage 1990; Gage 1993, 29-38.
669
Gage 1990; Gage 1993, 29-30.
666
137
external reaction by altering the colour of the skin. The ‘right’ complexion thereby signalled a
healthy balance inside.670
In the late Republic and early Roman Empire, a certain type of Caucasian physiognomy may have
included, as suggested in the Physiognomonica, pale-brown skin (albus) and brown eyes for men;
while female ideal colours were of somewhat paler tonal values.671 Such colours could be natural or
(and perhaps more commonly observed amongst the Roman elite) cosmetically enhanced (this will
be discussed in detail in C7.1 below).672In the early second century CE Suetonius specifically
related the complexion of the Caesars to their moral characters. Julius Caesar was ‘(…) tall in
stature, with a fair complexion, smooth limbs that were in proportion, a somewhat full face, and
keen black eyes, with favourable health.’673 In contrast, Caligula is described by Seneca (the
Younger) with a physical appearance matching his crazed mind: ‘Such was the ugliness of his pale
face bespeaking his madness, such the wildness of his eyes lurking beneath the brow of an old
hag.’674
It seems likely that the artistic process of mixing the skin colours for the painted marble portraits
were influenced by the practice of appreciating the physiognomic appearances of human beings as a
direct window to their moral character and soul. By mixing yellow and red ochres with white and
Egyptian blue, the craftsmen would have been able to obtain a variety of skin nuances, matching the
semiotic flexibility, which the rhetorical use of skin colours represented in the written texts. The
white marble portraits offered the possibility of an artificial invention of the most desired types of
skin tones; not necessarily one that mirrored the sitter of the portrait, but rather one that conformed
to Roman stereotypic thought. I will return to this in detail in C7.1.
Although the remains of original skin paint on the portraits from Nemi testifies to a once fully,
covering flesh colour, the few traces do not reveal anything on ranges in tonal values. Perhaps the
male portraits were given slightly darker complexions than the females, but this is largely
speculative. On the Egyptian mummy portraits the skin nuances vary from tanned to almost white,
obtained through the same – although differently mixed – pigments of red, yellow, sometimes blue
and white.675 Identifying a few scattered grains of red and yellow ochre and – what may be
670
Bradley 2009B, 130-137.
Thompson 1989, 131.
672
Thompson 1989, 131-132; Bradley 2009B, 161-188.
673
Suet. Iul.45.1. (translation from Goldman 2013, 100.)
674
Sen. Constant. 18.1. (translation from Goldman 2013, 100.)
675
See above, note 65.
671
138
interpreted as – Egyptian blue does therefore, unfortunately, not reveal much on the original and –
presumably – varying colour properties of the painted skin tones (fig. B:93 and B:106).
Facial details
On the statue of Fundilia a pale pink paint mixture is preserved between the lips (fig: B:38). The use
of pink (primarily consisting of madder lake, lead white and little Egyptian blue) has been
documented on the Caligula portrait and the Treu Head, where the preserved remains are visible to
the naked eye (fig. B:9a and B:95), testifying to what may be a standardization in techniques of
application with the purpose of accentuating such facial elements.676 Remains from similar paint
mixtures may be seen on the VIL photography of the portrait head of Capito (cat. No. 5), where the
luminescent particles appearing between the lips may be interpreted as once belonging to a similar
pale pink paint mixture (fig. B:59). The original visual effects of the painted accentuations of the
sculpted lips on the marble portraits may have sought to imitate the soft pink colour of real-life
human lips.
None of the portraits from the Room of Fundilia have sculpted pupils or outlines of irises, and only
two have chiselled eyebrows (Fundilius and Chrysarion). Such details (including also eyelashes)
must therefore, presumably, have been added in paint, as can still be seen on several sculptural
examples including the portrait of Caligula in the NCG (fig. B:96).677 Results from scientific
examinations of the Treu Head suggest that what remains visible to the naked eye of details in the
areas of the eyes (pupils, eyelashes and eyebrows) should not be understood as the final paint layers
but rather as preliminary drawings for subsequent colouration.678
The original presence of a colouration of the facial details on the portraits from Case Study 1 is
supported by the VIL-photography of the head of the statue of Fundilia. The photograph reveals the
use of Egyptian blue pigments for the white of the eyeballs, revealing a shadow from the once
painted pupil in her proper left eye (fig. B:37). Similar uses of paint mixtures, consisting of white
pigments, with a small amount of Egyptian blue pigments added, have been documented on the
portrait of Caligula (fig. B:97), the Sciarra Amazon (fig. B:89 and B:98) and on the Treu Head (fig.
B:99).679
Østergaard 2003, 211; Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 46. See also Therkildsen 2012, 48.
Sargent and Therkildsen 2010A, fig. 11.
678
Remains of skin paint above the accentuated eyebrows and eyelashes proves that the painted elements were not the
final layer. Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014, 161-163.
679
Sargent and Therkildsen 2010B, fig. 10; Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 48.
676
677
139
Unfortunately none of the examinations of the portraits from Case Study 1 revealed anything on the
colours of the irises which would originally have been accentuated by paint mixtures of different
hues. On the portrait head belonging to the togatus, originating from the basilica in Formia and
dating to the early first century CE, the originally brown colours of the painted irises are still visible
to the naked eye (fig. B:100).680 On the portrait of Caligula remains of brown ochre suggest
originally brown painted eyes as well (fig. B:96).681
Inlaid eyes belonging to ideal and portrait sculptural heads made in bronze show that polychrome
sculptures were given a broad variety of eye colours ranging in hue from blue to brown and black.
On the portrait of the so-called Brutus (dating to the fourth or third century BCE) the inlaid irises
are recognisably of a brown hue (fig. B:101).682 From the Villa dei Papiri a range of bronze
sculptures have their inlaid eyes preserved: a herm portrait of a man with a shaved head, all have
irises of a grey tone produced from coloured stone (fig. B:102).683 On the head of the young victor
the colour of the eyes were made from a reddish hued stone (fig. B:103), while the inlaid eyes of the
portrait head of the so-called Pseudo Seneca are black (fig. B:104).684
On the Egyptian mummy portraits, originating from Fayum and dating to from the first to the third
centuries CE, the eye colours are mostly dark, almost black. But a few examples are painted with
toned greenish/brown hues as well (fig. B:105).
We can therefore only speculate on the range of eye colours, which the portraits from the Room of
Fundilia were originally painted with. The portrait os Quinta has been reconstructed in a Variant B1
and B2 with two different sets of eyes. The eyes for B! are copied from the well-preserved paint
remains on the amazon head from Herculaneum (fig. B:91) as well as the togatus from Fromia (fig.
B:100) on which the originally painted pupils and eyelashes can still be seen with the naked eye. 685
However, based on the comparative material mentioned above, it is possible to produce another
experimental reconstruction, B2, by copying the eyes from a painted mummy portrait (fig. B:105).
These two reconstructions show the impact of the coloured gaze of the portraits, and the effects the
680
Conticello 1978, no. 17. Pic. 17; Cassieri 2001, cat. No. 7, 28-30; Liverani 2014A, 22-25, fig. 23,24,25.
Østergaard 2004C, 127.
682
Giustozzi 2009, 84; Lahusen 2010, 69, 2.17.
683
Mattusch 2005, 189-194 and 195-215.
684
Mattusch 2005, 246-248 and 249-253. Research into the differences and similarities between inlaid and painted
details of the eyes on white marble portraits and ideal sculpture, such as what PhD student Verena Hoft is conducting at
the Eberhard Karls Universität Tübingen, is needed in the future in order to fully understand the powerful impact of the
sculpted, polychrome gaze. Hoft 2013.
685
These are just a few examples on preserved painted details in the eyes of Roman portraits from the first century CE.
To the list one could also add the portraits of Livia, inv. No. 748, and an unidentified Roman woman, inv. No. 747, in
the NCG, Copenhagen (Johansen 1994, cat. No. 35 and 40). For a more detailed account on the creation of the
Photoshop reconstructions of the portraits from Nemi, see Appendix 5.
681
140
nuances, shapes and placements of the irises would have had on the visual impact of the
polychrome portraits (fig: B:93 and B:106).
Dress
The two statues of Fundilius and Fundilia, the herm portrait of Fundilia, the herm portrait of Quinta
and the unidentified Roman woman include sculpted clothing with remains of original colour.
The statue of Fundilius: although fragmented the remaining colour on the sculpted toga of the statue
allows for speculation on its original painted decoration. In the sculpted folds VIL-photography
suggests that an Egyptian blue paint mixture was applied; most likely to accentuate the already
three-dimensional shadow-effect (fig. B:27). Egyptian blue – as well as other paint mixtures – as
used for shadow, mostly in the hair but also on sculpted textiles, has been observed on both marble
and terracotta figures from Greece (Tanagra and Delos) dating to the Hellenistic period.686 Typically
a darker shade of the same hue as the colour used for the rest of the dress was applied in between
the sculpted folds.687 Correspondingly, the evenly scattered Egyptian blue grains found in between
the folds on the sculpted toga on the statue of Fundilius may be interpreted as a single application of
a transparent blue paint layer to accompany the naturally occurring shadow between the deeply
sculpted folds of the greyish/blue white marble stone.
The preserved concentration of red/orange pigments on the balteus, along the edge of the sinus and
on the lacinia between the feet, together with the cohesive, finely painted line on the back side of
the statue, indicates that the sculpted garment was once partially –but not fully – painted (fig. B:26).
Except for the reddish/orange colour and what could be interpret as Egyptian blue-based paint
mixtures functioning as shadow in the deeply sculpted folds, the rest of the surface of the toga do
not appear to have been painted. Combined with the placement of the paint remains, the partially
polychrome sculptural representation of the toga could be reconstructed as a toga praetexta, which
would leave the major part of the surface in the natural white colours of the fine-grained Afyon
marble (fig. B:107).
686
Bourgeois, Jockey and Karydas argue that the painting techniques used for marble and terracotta figurines on Delos
in the Hellenistic periods were very much alike, and could have been performed by the same craftsmen. Bourgeois,
Jockey and Karydas 2009, 651-652.
687
On the ‘Dame Baillehache’, originating from Greece and dating to ca. 330-200 BCE (Louvre, inv. No. CA 2552,
paint was used both to create high-lights and shadow effects between the folds of the tunica, Bourgeois 2010, 241. On
the large statuette of Tyché (Delos, inv. No. A 312) the folds of the pink coloured tunica have been accentuated by red
paint, see Bourgeois and Jockey 2010, 234.
141
This would explain the high level of detailing which the surface of the sculpted toga has received.
The small ‘wrinkles’ or folds covering the entire surface were meant to be visually recognized by
the viewer; they added a level of life-likeness to the artistic de-materialization of the stone, but they
also evoked a perhaps important aspect of how the toga was visually perceived in Roman society.
One of the final steps of producing the toga fabric was folding, smoothening and flattening the large
piece of textile.688 Martial in particular highlights how the toga was unwieldy, hot and difficult to
maintain, and how neglect of taking care of one’s toga was particularly diminutive to its wearer,
separating the socially underprivileged from their wealthy patrons.689 Through minutely artistic
manipulations of the marble surface on the sculpture, the Roman craftsman made sure that the
viewer would have recognized Fundilius as a resourceful man who could afford to take good care of
his toga.
The best preserved archaeological evidence for the placement of the border on the praetexta toga
comes from wall-paintings. On a wall-painting from the lararium in the house of Vettii in Pompeii,
a genius is depicted wearing a toga praetexta capite velato (fig. B:108).690 The border on the toga
praetexta is visible on the umbo and following the curve of the sinus. On another wall-painting
from Pompeii, from the shop of Verecundus, another genius is depicted on the upper panel also
wearing the toga praetexta (fig. B:109).691 The border of the toga praetexta is in this case also
visible only on the umbo and the sinus curve. Beneath in the lower panel is depicted a male figure
displaying what appears to be the toga textile.
The placement of the border on the praetexta toga has been experimentally reconstructed several
times, most famously by Hans Rupprecht Goette in his monograph on toga representations from
1989.692 On his reconstruction of a first century CE praetexta toga, the border follows the edge of
the folded ellipse shaped toga textile: when draped on a standing man, the coloured border becomes
visible on the balteus, the umbo, the sinus curve and the lacinia (fig. B:110).
So far three marble toga-statues have been examined for their original, painted polychromy: a toga
statue from the Tarragona Museum in Spain, originating from the Roman theatre in Tarragona and
688
Granger-Taylor 1987, 120-121.
Mart.Ep. 3.30, 5.22, 9.49. See George 2008, 99-103.
690
Goette 1989, 100-101.
691
Clarke 2003, 106-112; Hackworth Petersen 2009, 200-201.
692
Goette 1989, 3-6, 100-101, Farbtaf. 5-6, abb. 3 and beilage 2,1-2.
689
142
dating to the first century CE (fig. B:111)693; the togatus in Formia shortly mentioned above (fig.
B:100 and B:112)694; and a toga statue of Caligula in Richmond (fig. B:113).695
The Tarragona togatus was entirely covered by a red/orange paint mixture (fig. B:114).696 The
technique used for painting the toga on the Tarragona togatus varies from that used for Fundilius’
toga, as the red paint was applied on top of a whitewashing of chalk, while the finely grained ochre
pigments on the toga of Fundilius were applied directly onto the marble surface (fig. B:26).
The togatus from Formia has not yet been scientifically examined, but the red/purple paint mixture,
which covers the entire surface of the toga, can still be seen with the naked eye.697
On the statue of Caligula in Richmond the sculpted toga surface was entirely or partially painted
with a violet paint mixture consisting of Egyptian Blue and pink madder lake (fig. B:115).698 But
the remains are too sparse to conclude on its original appearance, and three experimental
reconstructions have therefore been attempted, showing the statue with differently decorated togas
(fig. B:116).699
Results from the scientific examinations of the togati statues do therefore not offer sufficient
comparative material to the reconstruction of the toga on Fundilius, and further examinations of
toga statues would improve our knowledge on the original colouration of the Roman toga. I shall
return the toga of Fundilius in C7.2 to discuss the reconstructed red/orange border and the
comparative material mentioned above in more detail.
The statue of Fundilia: the portrait statue is the only sculpture from the Room of Fundilia which
was portrayed wearing garments decorated in a variety of colours. The statue body is clad in three
differently sculpted garments which can be interpreted based on their stylistic sculptural execution
as tunica, stola and palla: garments traditionally worn by the Roman matrona.700 Innermost is the
tunica, visible as voluminous folds appearing on the upper chest, providing the illusion of a light
textile (fig. B:31). Above the tunica she wears a stola visible on the chest and above the feet (fig.
B:32 and B:35).701 The stola was a slip-over-like garment suspended from the shoulders by sewn-on
Liverani 2014A, 22-26, fig. 19, 20, 21,22.
See note 108.
695
Goette 1989, 32, note 138; Barriault and Davidson 2007, 114-115; Abbe 2013.
696
Liverani 2009, 389; Liverani 2014, 22-26, fig. 19-22.
697
Liverani 2014, 22-26, fig. 23-26.
698
Abbe 2013.
699
Frischer 2013, http://www.digitalsculpture.org/papers/frischer/frischer_paper.html.
700
On the sculpted garments on the statue of Fundilia Rufa: Scholz 1992, 39; Fejfer 2008, 286
701
On the stola: Scholz 1992, 13-32 and 84-109; Sebesta 2001, 48-50; Alexandridis 2004, 51-31; Fejfer 2008, 335;
Olson 2008, 25-41; Harlow 2012, 39.
693
694
143
straps702 creating a distinctive draping of the neckline of the garment resembling a v-shape. Roman
writers describe the stola as a long garment decorated by a horizontal band, a so-called limbus, just
above the feet. Such ornamental borders are perhaps seen on Roman wall-paintings (Fig. B: 117).703
Finally, the majority of the statuary body is wrapped in a large sculpted mantle; a so-called palla.
The palla was traditionally worn by the Roman matrona concealing most of the female body and
may exclusively have been worn by upper-class Roman women.704
Reconstruction of the preserved paint on the sculptural body of the statue supports the identification
of three layers of different garments (fig. B:118). Few Egyptian blue pigments are located on the
voluminous folds of the tunica, which are unfortunately too little to reconstruct its original
appearance. But on the above lying stola a combination of Egyptian blue and bright red/pinkish
pigments suggests an original purple/violet colouration. The same pigment combination was
documented on the garment covering the feet, suggesting that the garment appearing beneath the
palla is the lower parts of the stola.
Of the three garments worn by the statue of Fundilia Rufa, it was the palla, covering almost her
entire body, which received the most lavish decoration. The use of several pigments on the palla
testifies to a creative use of different colours in the decoration of the garment dominated by a warm,
reddish purple tone. Traces of blue cohesive paint layers may originally have constituted painted
decorative patterns seemingly following the borders of the large mantle. Sculpted horizontal
‘furrows’ following the lower edges of the mantle immediately above the feet, may indicate the
placement and thickess of such a border (fig. B:34).
The violet and warm reddish hues of the stola and palla of the statue of Fundilia Rufa is in
correspondence with the colouration of female garments during both the Hellenistic/Republican
periods as well as the early Imperial period.705 Furthermore, results from examinations of himatia
Scholars have traditionally translated institia as referring to the straps, which held the garment together: Scholz
1992, 88-92; Sebesta 2001, 49. But recent scholarship suggests that institia was another word for limbus, meaning the
decorative border by the bottom of the garment: Alexandridis 2004, 51-52; Olson 2008, 30, Harlow 2012, 39.
703
Olson 2008, 30.
704
Scholz 1992, 100-101. The palla marked the women not engaged with manual labor. See Olson 2008, 35-36.
705
On a statuette of Aphrodite (Delos Museum, inv. No. A 4200) and a statue of Tyche (Delos Museum, inv. No. A
4129), both dating to the Hellenistic period, the large mantels were painted purple and violet using Egyptian blue and
madder lake (Bourgeoise and Jockey 2010, 227-230; Jockey 2014, 119, fig. 11a-b, 126, fig. 17a). On the himation on a
statue of the small Herculaneum Woman type (dating to the late second century BCE) (Athens, National Archaeological
Museum, inv. No. 1827), also from Delos, a violet colour has been documented as part of a richly polychrome
decoration including leaf gold (Brinkmann 2009, 200-202; Bourgeoise and Jockey 2010, 230-231; Blume 2010, 250;
jockey 2014, 114, fig. 4a.) Finally, on the cloak draped around the lower body and slung over the left shoulder on a
seated statue of Kybele (dating to the middle of the first century BCE) in the NCG (inv. No. IN 480) were found
superimposed layers of Egyptian blue and madder lake creating a violet colour (see
www.trackingcolour.com/objects/136).
702
144
worn by female Hellenistic sculptures have proved that the large mantles were painted with a
variety of different decorations.706 The position of the blue (and scarce yellow) pigments on the
palla of Fundilia suggests a painted decoration following the edges of the large garment, which
could have been a band following the lower hem of the garment (fig. B:119).
The herm of Fundilia: the herm portrays Fundilia wearing garments differing from those with which
the statue was provided. The herm is clad in a belted tunica and a small mantle draped over the left
shoulder and wrapped around the lower body. Furthermore the herm seems not to have been as
lavishly decorated as the statue: the mantle was painted with a compact layer of a brown hue, while
the long dress underneath was painted in a reddish hue with a decorative, horizontal blue border at
the bottom above the feet (fig. B:120).
On a herm representing a muse from a private collection and dating to the first century CE the same
combination of garments can be observed (fig. B:121). The craftsmanship of the muse is more
delicate and detailed than that of the herm of Fundilia, but the garments are recognisably similar:
the muse is clad in a tunica belted beneath the breasts, with a mantle draped over left the shoulder
and wrapped around the lower body. The garments of the herm of Fundilia could therefore be
regarded as being in correspondence with the costume of female herms during the first century CE,
which would explain the differences in sculpted dress between the herm and the statue.707
The different choices of format and dress seen on the two portrait sculptures of Fundilia might also
explain the differences in painting observed between the herm and statue. Unfortunately the herm
portrait of Fundilia is so far the only female portrait sculpture in herm format with sculpted
garments to be examined for paint, and it is therefore not possible to conclude whether the painting
of the garments followed the same tradition of representing clothed female herms as the sculpting
did.
The herm of Quinta: the buttoned tunica on the portrait seems to have been originally painted red
(fig. B:122). The spread of red pigments documented on the tunica may suggest that the techniques
used for painting the tunica differed from the painting of for example the palla on the statue of
Fundilia. The scattered – yet evenly distributed – pigments on the tunica of Quinta indicates an
original application of a single, somewhat transparent paint layer, while the opaque nature of the
reddish/purple paint layer observed on the palla of Fundilia suggest an originally, fully covering
706
707
Blume 2015 (forthcoming).
See also Poulsen 1941, 24.
145
and compact (yet thinly applied directly onto the marble surface) paint layer. While the paint layer
on the palla of Fundilia would have completely concealed the natural colours of the marble
underneath, the scattered pigments on the tunica of Quinta could have incorporated the natural,
white colours of the luminous Parian marble, thereby creating a low saturated red hue.
The herm of the young woman: the even distribution of what appears to be Egyptian blue pigments
scattered all over the marble surface indicates a similar technique as that used for painting the
tunica of Staia Quinta (see above). The result would have been a low saturated blue hue of the
sculpted and painted garment. (fig. B:123).
Plinths, shafts inscriptions and ‘vacant spaces’
The original colouring of the travertine plinths belonging to the statues of Fundilius and Fundilia is
difficult to establish. On both plinths Egyptian blue, carbon black, and red and brown ochre
pigments were found mixed together making it difficult to fix the colour properties of the painted
surfaces besides being of a dark tonal value. The use of red paint mixtures for painting the plinths of
statues is, however, well known. On the plinth of the togatus from Formia (mentioned above), the
remaining red colour, which once covered the entire plinth, can still be seen with the naked eye. 708
The painting of the plinths would presumably have made the inscriptions easier to read, especially if
the letters were picked out by mixtures of complimentary colours contrasting the hue of the plinth.
Unfortunately no remaining colour was found in the letters, but it seems likely that they too were
accentuated by paint. On the plinth belonging to the herm portrait of Fundilia, which was executed
in white marble, the letters of the inscription were painted red (fig. 2:120).
The herm shafts of Quinta, Chrysarion, Capito and Rufus were all produced from the same type of
dark/grey marble stone with visible white and yellowish veins. The complete absence of preserved
paint remains on the surfaces of the shafts suggests that they were originally not painted, but left in
the natural colours of the marble stones. The inscriptions were executed by flat chisel, and in the
letters of Capito’s herm shaft a bright, light-blue paint was applied in compact layers to accentuate
the letters (fig. B:60).VIL photography did not prove any use of Egyptian blue in the paint mixture
Liverani 2009, 389; Liverani 2014, 22-26, fig. 19-22. Preserved red paint can also be seen with the naked eye on the
plinth belonging to a statue of Athena (inv. No. Hm 177. See Knoll, Vorster and Woelk 2011, 161, 168, cat. No. 10), and
the plinth belonging to an unidentified female ideal statue (inv. No. Hm 56. See Knoll, Vorster and Woelk 2011, 288,
cat. No. 43), in the Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden.
708
146
used to highlight the letters of the inscription. XRF showed a high content of cobber, suggesting
that the blue pigment may be a mineral, but further examinations were not performed. However, the
only other blue pigment used in Roman times besides Egyptian blue (to be documented so far) was
the mineral azurite. Although further examinations are needed in order to conclude on this, it seems
likely that the blue hue of the paint mixture used for the letters on the herm shaft of Capito was
composed by azurite pigment.
The use of both blue and red paint to accentuate the letters of inscriptions is well attested for in
archaeological material dating from at least the fifth century BCE. On inscribed fragments from the
second temple of Apollo at Naucratis, dating to 530-510 BCE, blue paint is documented in what
remains of the letters.709 Red paint is preserved in the letters of a cinerary urn at the NCG, and
visible to the naked eye (fig. B:124).710Also, remains from red paint have been documented in the
inscriptions on the Colosseum in Rome.711 Pliny the Elder emphasises how cinnabar could brighten
the letters of an inscription – even on marble in a tomb.712 Unfortunately the remaining red paint in
the letters of the inscription of the base belonging to the herm of Fundilia has not been examined
and the pigments have therefore not been identified.
On the statue of Fundilius the empty space between the foot and capsa revealed a large amount of
what may be interpreted as Egyptian Blue pigment-based paint mixture, indicating a once fully blue
colouration (fig. B:28).
The use of blue paint to fill out the background is observed on the Altar of the Vicomagistri, were
blue paint, primarily consisting of azurite, was documented on the background of the relief (fig.
B:125).713 The blue colour was applied to the background in order to visually frame the procession
and make detailed elements easy to extract and recognise by the viewer. Blue paint used for
colouring backgrounds on reliefs is also known from earlier Greek architectural decorations, which
may testify to a tradition of using blue pigment-based paint mixtures to render backgrounds.714
709
Presented by Joanne Dyer at the Round Table conference in Copenhagen from the 5th to the 7th November 2014. The
examinations of the fragments from Naucratis was performed by Joanne Dyer. Unpublished.
710
Østergaard 1996, 62-63, cat. No. 26.
711
http://roma.repubblica.it/cronaca/2015/01/21/news/colosseo_sulle_arcate_scoperti_numeri_dipinti_di_rosso_indicavano
_l_ingresso_degli_antichi_settori-105437629/?ref=HREC1-26#gallery-slider=105439296
712
Plin.HN. 33.122.
713
Liverani 2014, 15-16, fig. 14.
714
When the Aphaia-temple in Aegina (dating to the early fifth century BCE) was discovered in 1811 it revealed a great
extent of remaining colour on its architectural sculptures, which was documented at a time of excavation and
reconstructed by Vinzenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch-Brinkmann (Brinkmann 2003, 103-106).On the pediment the
sculptures of the fighting Greeks and Trojans were set up against a blue painted background. Also, early travellers to
147
Furthermore Egyptian blue has been documented on the struts of marble statuary. On the Roman
archaising statue of Artemis from Herculanum, dating to the second century CE, a blue paint
mixture was used for colouring the struts between the arms and body of the statue which VIL
photography proved to be of Egyptian blue (fig. B:126).715According to Koch-Brinkmann, Piening
and Brinkmann, the purpose of applying an Egyptian blue-based paint mixture was to mask the
struts, but on the reconstruction the blue paint application seems to do rather the opposite.716 The
purposes of struts were primarily to stabilize or support a marble sculpture. But modern scholars
have debated if struts could also have served other purposes reflecting on regional traditions and
aesthetic preferences.717 Until now scholars have not been aware of the painted surfaces of marble
struts.718 But further research into the painted struts on Greek and Roman marble sculpture may add
an important element to the original visual appearance and the function of such statuary elements.
The dissertation returns to this in Chapter 8, main Section B.
Greece documented remaining blue colour on the background of the Hephaisteion frieze (third quarter of the fifth
century BCE), and when the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus (middle of the fourth century BCE) was excavated in the
middle of the 19th century, Charles Newton documented Egyptian blue used for the background of the friezes (On the
paint on the frieze from the Hephaisteion: Neils 2001, 88. On the paint on the Mausoleum of Halicanassus: Jenkins,
Gratziu and Middelton 1997, 36).
715
Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014, 130-131.
716
Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014, 130.
717
Hollinshead 2002.
718
Hollinshead 2002, 127.
148
CHAPTER 5
Case Study 2. The high-gloss polished portraits
The second case study consists of seven pieces, dating to the late second century and first half of the
third century CE, and which have been examined for traces of their original, painted polychromy.
Unlike the portraits of Case Study 1 there is no obvious interrelationship between the portraits of
the second case study, apart from their high gloss polished719 exposed skin areas. What unites the
pieces is that they are all replicas (except for one). Case Study 2 is therefore divided into three subgroups according to the groups of replicas: Case Study 2a, Case Study 2b and Case Study 2c.
Case Study 2a consists of two portraits representing the same unidentified youth (cat. No. 10 and
11) (fig. B:127 and B:128). Based on the youthful physiognomic features and hair style of both
replicas, scholars have suggested that the portraits may portray Alexander Severus (222-235),
Gordianus III (238-244) or Philippus Minor (247-249).720 But today it is largely agreed that the two
replicas portray an unidentified youth who was not a member of the imperial family but a private
citizen.721
The portraits are dated to the second quarter of the third century CE and were purchased from the
art dealer Francesco Martinetti722in Rome in 1888, but otherwise nothing is known of their find
context.
Case Study 2b consists of three portraits identified as Gaius Julius Verus Maximus dated to 235-238
CE (cat. No. 12, 13 and 14) (fig. B:129, B:130 and B:131). They were purchased in Rome: two of
the Maximus portraits (cat. No. 12 and 13) were purchased together with a portrait of Maximinus
Thrax723(Emperor and father of Maximus) as a group724 from Martinetti in 1892; while the third
On how to recognize and define a high-gloss polished marble surface – and how such a finish can be obtained – see
A1.2 above and Appendix 2 (Ap2.2).
720
In a letter from Wolfgang Helbig to Carl Jacobsen from, Helbig identifies the replicas as Gordianus III. L’Orange
1973 (suggests Alexander Severus), Poulsen 1951, cat. No. 747 and 748 (suggests Philippus Minor based on stylistic
comparison of the hair and physiognomy to gem portraits); Heintze 1955, 178 (suggests Alexander Severus); Poulsen
1974, cat. No. 141 and 142 (suggests Alexander Severus); Wegner 1979, 43, taf. 18 and 19 (suggests Philippus Minor);
Fittschen and Zanker 1985, 127-128 (compares the stylistic execution of the hair on a portrait of Gordianus Pius in the
Museo Capitolini, stanza degli Imperatori, inv. 490, to the hair on the replicas).
721
Johansen 1995B, 50-52; ’Es handelt sich daher um Privatporträts, sicher der dreissiger Jahre.’ Bergmann 1977, 33.
722
Francesco Martinetti (1833-1894) was an Italian antiquarian, art dealer, numismatic and conservator who sold
antiquities in Rome. Moltesen 2012, 143-145.
723
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 818.Johansen 1995B, 106 (cat. No 39).
719
149
portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14) was purchased from the art dealer Alberici in 1890. Nothing is
known of their find context.
Case Study 2c is the portrait of an unidentified man (cat. No. 15) (fig. B:132). The man has been
identified as both Nerva and as a posthumous portrait of Julius Caesar, and is dated to the second
century CE.725The portrait was purchased on Rhodes in 1961, making it the only portrait within the
group that originates from outside of Rome.
B5.1: Case Study 2a
The portrait of an unidentified youth (cat. No. 10)
The portrait depicts a young man with a clean-shaven chin and very short hair (fig. B:127).726 It is
sculpted from fine-grained Göktepe marble (fig. B:133).727 The portrait was broken off at the
middle of the neck, leaving no indications as to its original portrait format. It is furthermore missing
the nose and parts of both ears, and the head bears traces of prior layers of encrustations as well as
vegetation which have been removed during modern cleaning. The back of the head and neck have
not been cleaned as thoroughly as the front, revealing a calcareous and dirty surface.
The individual strands of hair have been executed with little plasticity by use of a flat chisel
creating a distinct short-cut coiffure combed from the back of the head to the front (fig. B:134). The
skin areas of the face have received a high-gloss polish (fig. B:135). Chiselled eyebrows were
executed above the high-gloss; pupils were drilled and the irises encircled by chisel (fig. B:136).
Well-preserved painted eyelashes can be seen on the upper eyelid of the proper right eye (fig.
B:137) and results from further examinations revealed a once fully covering polychromy (fig.
B:138).728 In the hair are extensive remains of yellow ochre in combination with red ochre, carbon
724
The portrait of Maximinus Thrax and the two portraits of Maximus (cat. No. 12 and 13) came from the Villa
Ludovisi and were most probably found together. Moltesen 2012, 183. This is, however, doubted by Fittschen (1977,
319).
725
Poulsen 1961, 25-27 (identifies the head as depicting Nerva in a Greek fashion copying the style of Hellenistic
rulers); Johansen 1995(A), 90, suggests a memorial portrait of Julius Caesar.
726
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 821. Johansen 1995B, 50 (cat. No 16);Bergmann 1977, 33.
727
The isotopic analyses were performed by Donato Attanasio and the results suggested Göktepe. The visual
examinations were performed by Rikke Hoberg Therkildsen and results showed that the marble was pure, fine-grained
and elastic. See Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 845-846. See also cat.no. 12.
728
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 844-845. See also www.trackingcolour.com.
150
black and Egyptian blue pigments (fig. B:139 and B:140) mostly as scattered pigments but also
forming cohesive paint layers. On the high-gloss polished skin surface are red ochre together with
Egyptian blue pigments and yellow ochre scattered all over the surface (fig. B:141). Between the
lips pink madder lake pigments are preserved together with Egyptian blue pigments. Red ochre and
black grains follow the rims of upper and lower eyelids of both eyes and concentrated pink madder
lake are embedded in the tear ducts (fig. B:142). In the drilled pupil of the left eye black grains are
preserved. Furthermore leaf gold is preserved in the hair on top of a yellow paint layer consisting of
yellow and little red ochre (fig. B:139,B).
The portrait of an unidentified youth (cat. No. 11)
The second portrait of the unidentified young man is sculpted from fine-grained Göktepe marble
(fig. B:128 and B:133).729 The portrait head is broken off by the middle of the neck, revealing
nothing on its original statuary body. The state of preservation of the head is weathered: the nose,
the upper lip, the chin and large parts of both ears are broken off, and the smooth polish of the skin
surface is interrupted by scratches and cavities. Most of the skin surface of the face and on the neck
and most of the hair – especially at the back of the head – is furthermore covered in calcareous
layers.
The style of execution resembles that of the other unidentified youth (cat. No. 10): the young man is
depicted with a clean-shaven face, very short-cut hair and a high-gloss polished skin surface.
Results from scientific examination revealed a once fully covering polychromy, which appears to
have been similar to that of cat. No. 10 although better preserved.730 On the upper eyelids of both
left and right eyes, the once painted lashes are visible to the naked eye (fig. B:143). Microscopy
furthermore revealed that the eyelashes were painted on top of a thinly applied white ground layer,
consisting of small amounts of lead white mixed with calcium carbonate (fig. B:144). Beneath the
eye is another layer of the same white paint mixture with the addition of red grains (fig. B:145).
Extensive remains of yellow pigments of different hues in combination with small amounts of red
grains, Egyptian blue and black pigments are preserved in the hair (fig. B:146), mostly as scattered
pigments but also forming cohesive paint layers. Yellow, red and Egyptian blue pigments are
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 821. Johansen 1995B, 50 (cat. No 16); Bergmann 1977, 33; Skovmøller and
Therkildsen 2015, 845-846.
730
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 844-845. See also www.trackingcolour.com.
729
151
scattered over the high-gloss skin surface (fig. B:147). In the rims of upper and lower eyelid,
extensive remains of red paint are preserved; and in the tear ducts are pink madder lake grains
identified by UV-Fl. (fig. B:148). Embedded in the incised contours of the iris of the proper left eye
are extensive amounts of red and black grains, and in the drilled pupil black grains are preserved.
B5.2: Case Study 2b
Portrait of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus (cat. No. 12)
The portrait depicts a young man with a clean-shaven face and very short-cut hair (fig. B:129).731
The portrait was executed from one piece of fine-grained, unidentified white marble stone. The
neck line was rounded by point chisel and prepared for insertion into a now lost body format.732It is
in a fine state of preservation. The nose, chin and most all of the left and right ears have broken off.
The high-gloss polished skin surface is marked by scratches and cavities and has discoloured and
matte areas, and large areas of the hair on the back of the head are covered by calcareous layers.
Furthermore, the head bears traces from modern cleaning (fig. B:149).
Maximus is portrayed as a youth with a slightly chubby face. The strands of hair have been
accentuated with little plasticity by flat chisel (resembling the style on the portraits of the youth, see
above, cat. No. 10 and 11), creating a system of hair locks combed from the back to the front of the
head. Above the high-gloss polished, exposed skin surface the eyebrows have been picked out by
chisel, while the pupils have been drilled and the contours of the iris have been accentuated by
chisel.
Examinations of the head revealed the remains of its once fully covering painted polychromy. In
areas of the skin surface, scattered red ochre grains are preserved; while a higher concentration of
red ochre, together with brown ochre, carbon black and Egyptian blue (fig. B:150), is preserved in
the hair.
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 819. Johansen 1995B, 104 (cat. No 41). Wiggers and Wegner 1971, 232, taf. 70a;
Bergmann 1977, 32-33; Wood 1986, 66-67, fig. 33, note 1(A).
732
On tenon-into-socket techniques see Claridge 1990, 142-144.
731
152
Portrait of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus (cat. No. 13)
The second portrait of Maximus is sculpted from fine-grained, unidentified white marble (fig.
B:130).733 The neck was rounded for insertion into a now lost body format by use of point chisel.
The head has undergone cleaning in modern times.
Maximus is portrayed as a clean-shaven youth with short hair and the style of execution resembles
that of the abovementioned Maximus portrait; although slightly more delicate. The features are
more rounded: the lips fuller, the chin and cheeks more rounded and the eyes more sharply and
lively executed.
Results from examinations revealed a once fully covering polychromy. In the hair are extensive
remains of red, dark red, brown, black and Egyptian blue grains preserved (fig. B:151). Also, a
finely painted curl can be observed by microscopy just beneath the fringes on the forehead (fig.
B:152) painted on top of the glossy surface of the exposed skin by a mixture consisting of carbon
black.
Red and yellow grains mixed with Egyptian blue, cinnabar and a small amount of carbon black are
evenly scattered on the exposed skin surface, which testifies to a once fully covering skin paint (fig.
B:153).
Portrait of Gaius Julius Verus Maximus (cat. No. 14)
The third portrait of Maximus (fig. B:131) is sculpted from white, fine-grained Göktepe marble
(fig.B:133).734 The bottom of the neck is rounded and prepared for insertion into a socket of a now
lost body format by use of flat chisel. The portrait is missing the nose and chin. The ears are
damaged, and small scratches can be seen on the skin surface with the naked eye (fig. B:154). The
head has been systematically cleaned in modern times, removing a calcareous layer from the left
side of the face, leaving it matte and discoloured. The proper right side of the face together with
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 823. Johansen 1995B, 102 (cat. No 40).Wiggers and Wegner 1971, 232, taf. 71;
Bergmann 1977, 32-33, taf. 2.4 and 3.5; Wood 1986, 66-67, note 1(B).
734
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 826. Johansen 1995B, 106 (cat. No 42); Wiggers and Wegner 1971, 232-233; Bergmann
1977, 32-33, taf. 2.6 and 3.6; Wood 1986, 66-67, note 1(C); Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 845-846.
733
153
most of the back of the head has largely remained untouched by modern cleaning and is fully
covered by calcareous layers.
The technical execution of the portrait differs slightly from the execution of the two
abovementioned Maximus portraits (cat. No. 12 and 13). The chiselling of the hair and eyebrows
are less plastic and the shaping of the facial features is not as voluminous as the other Maximus
portraits.
Results from examinations revealed extensive remains of its originally fully covering polychromy
(fig. B:155).735 Grains of red and brown ochre, Egyptian blue and carbon black, are preserved in the
hair: sometimes scattered over the marble surface, sometimes forming cohesive layers (fig.
B:156).On the skin surface (best preserved in the areas covered by calcareous layers) Egyptian blue
is preserved in combination with red and yellow ochre grains (fig. B:157 and 2:158). Following the
upper and lower rims of the eyelids, and in the tear ducts paint mixtures consisting of madder lake,
Egyptian blue and red grains are preserved (fig.B:159). Furthermore black grains are preserved
following the chiselled contours of both irises and in the drilled pupils, and brown/red ochre
pigments are preserved in the irises.
B5.3: Case Study 2c
Portrait head of the unidentified man (cat. No. 15)
The portrait depicts a mature man with clean shaven face and short, curled hair (fig. B:132).736 The
head is sculpted from an unidentified, white, fine-grained marble. The head is broken off by the
middle of the neck providing no information as to its original body format. The head is furthermore
missing the nose, chin and large parts of both ears. Small scratches on the surface of the polished
carnation testify to modern cleaning.
The execution of the head is delicate and detailed. The man is portrayed with a clean-shaven chin
and voluminous, cork-screw-shaped curled hair. The hair is combed from back to front, terminating
in plastically rendered curls framing the forehead from ear to ear (fig. B:160). The hair at the back
is sculpted flat to the head, contrasting the plasticity of the curls framing the forehead. The exposed
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2012, 38-40; Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 846-847. See also
www.trackingcolour.com.
736
Copenhagen, NCG, inv. No. 3282. Johansen 1995A, 90 (cat. No 32).
735
154
skin has received a high-gloss polish and the facial features are smoothly rendered, with deep,
horizontal lines marking forehead and crow’s feet by the corners of both eyes. The physiognomy of
the face is accentuated: the eyes are deep-set, without chiselled details such as eyebrows, pupils or
contours of the irises; the cheekbones are pronounced and the jaw square. The full lips are framed
by deep set nasolabial folds.
Very little from an original polychromy remains due to the modern cleaning of the head. 737 In the
hair the remains of a once fully covering paint, consisting of red and brown ochre grains and what
may be interpret as scattered Egyptian blue grains, are preserved (fig. B:161). But on the skin are no
indications of original colouring, except for scattered remains grains of red and brown in the areas
of the eyes.
B5.4: Reconstructing the original polychromy of the high -gloss polished portraits
All the high-gloss polished portraits have enough remaining paint to conclude that they were
originally fully or partially painted. The portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14) and the two portraits of
the same unidentified youth (cat. No. 10 and 11) have the best preserved remains. One of the
portraits depicting the unidentified youth (cat. No. 10) has been reconstructed on a marble copy
(fig.B:162).738 The reconstruction of the portrait is based on the results from scientific examinations
of both portraits of the unidentified youth. Furthermore the preserved paint on the exposed skin
areas of the portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14) was included. For a more detailed account on the
process of creating the reconstruction of the unidentified youth, see Appendix 2.
Hair
A dark/blond hair colour was identified on the two identical youths from Case Study 2a, created by
different hues of yellow ochre in combination with little red and brown ochre on top of black and
Egyptian blue. On top of the best preserved yellow paint layers was documented small amounts of
leaf gold, indicating that the hair on the youth was either completely covered by leaf gold, or that
the leaf gold was confined to the pronouncing areas of the sculpted hair strands, thereby functioning
as high-lights.
737
738
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 849. See also www.trackingcolour.com.
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2014.
155
Leaf gold used for colouring the hair is well known, both from written evidence and archaeological
material (see chapter 1). In the Historia Augusta, dating to somewhere between the third and the
fourth century CE, it is emphasised how Lucius Verus used to sprinkle golden dust into his blond
hair and beard in order to make it shine brighter.739 Scientific examinations of a series of caryatids
from the Hadrianic baths in Aphrodisias (fig. B:163) revealed leaf gold placed on top of the
reddish/blond painted hair locks, but not in the deeply drilled furrows which were painted with a
dark/black paint mixture (fig.B:164).740 The female head from Aphrodisias in the NCG may
originally have belonged to this group (fig. A:33), and on its head the leaf gold seems also to have
been restricted to the pronouncing areas of the sculpted locks (fig. B:80).741 Preserved remains of
leaf-gold have also been documented in the hair on the sculpture of Venus (Venere di Medici) in the
Galleria degli Uffizi in Florence (fig.B:165).742 And on one of the two Tritons, flanking the large
bust portrait of Commodus as Hercules dating to 180-193 CE and originating from the Horti
Lamiani (fig. B:166), leaf gold can still be seen with the naked eye in the voluminous locks, but
remains to be thoroughly examined (fig. B:167).743
Based on the placement of the remaining leaf gold on the portrait of the youth (cat. No. 10) and on
the comparative material from both the written and archaeological records, the leaf gold has been
reconstructed as applied high-lights on the marble copy (see fig. B:168).The original artistic
intentions by applying leaf gold is therefore not interpreted as relating to any economic or symbolic
association with gold itself, but as a refined polychrome effect integrated in the visual appearance of
the portrait on equal terms with the paint mixtures (see the discussion in Chapter 3, A3.2). The leaf
gold adds a shine to the pronouncing areas of the sculpted hair: although executed with very little
plasticity, the application of leaf gold would have contributed to accentuate the voluminous effects
of the individually chiselled hair locks, imitating the natural shine of well-groomed, life-like blond
hair.
Due to the well-preserved paint remains on the three portraits of Maximus (Case Study 2b,),
consisting of red and brown ochre grains of varying shades and tonal values together with a smaller
Described as an act of vain, the golden dust does not seem to have been applied in order to make people think that he
had golden hair in the literal sense, but rather to exploit the visual effects of the golden dust to enhance the colour
properties of his own, natural hair colour, which he was particularly proud of. Historia Augusta, 10.7.
740
Abbe 2010A, 279-280. I thank Mark Abbe for discussing this in detail with me.
741
Therkildsen 2012.
742
See: http://www.goldunveiled.it/venere/
743
Giustozzi 2009, 116.I would like to thank Francoise Duthoy Frel for sharing her observations on the remaining leaf
gold in the hair of the Triton with me.
739
156
amount of Egyptian blue and carbon black pigments (best preserved on cat. No. 14), it appears that
the hair on the Maximus portraits was originally painted in a red/brown hue. The variety of
pigments, both as scattered grains and forming cohesive layers, suggests an application technique
similar to that used for the first century CE portraits from Case Study 1. This is supported by the
finely painted curl observed on cat. No. 13: the curl is painted directly on the high-gloss polished
exposed skin thereby extending the paint beyond the sculpted form (fig. B:152). The curl may
reflect a practice of applying underdrawings and thereby multiple paint layers similar to what has
been documented on the Treu Head and perhaps also on the portrait of Caligula (see fig. A:32c and
B:79).
Skin surfaces
The high-gloss surface texture of the skin on the three Maximus portraits of Case Study 2b and on
the two portraits of the unidentified youth of Case Study 2a were originally fully painted. The
combination of pigments resembles the same use of pigments as discussed according to the
reconstructions of the portraits from Case Study 1 (see above): mixtures of red, yellow and
Egyptian blue grains – and sometimes also little carbon black – indicate that the portraits of Case
Studies 2a and 2b were painted with fair, Caucasian skin tones (fig. B:162).744 However, despite the
apparently similar use of pigments, the nature of mixing and applying the skin paint layers appears
may have been versatile which, ultimately, would have had an impact on the levels of tone,
saturation and brightness of the individual skin colours.
On the Maximus portrait (cat. No. 14) that has the best preserved remains from painted skin colour,
the spread of pigments appears as evenly distributed all over the surface with a low concentration,
indicating an original application technique of a single, transparent paint layer. Such an application
would have incorporated the natural white colours of the high-gloss polished marble base, thus
explaining the complete absence of white grains in the paint mixture.745 Furthermore the thinly
applied skin paint would have incorporated the glossy effect of the polished marble, providing an
optical effect much like the natural sheen and luminosity of life-like human skin (fig. B:169).
744
For more on the creation of the reconstruction see Appendix 5 (Ap5.5).
White pigments were documented as part of the carnation mixture on the Caligula head and the Treu Head. See:
Brinkmann, Kellner, Koch-Brinkmann and Østergaard 2003, 223; Opper, Verii and Deviese 2010, 44-50; KochBrinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014B.
745
157
On the two portraits of the unidentified youth thin, transparent layers of lead white were applied in
areas restricted to immediately beneath and above the eye lids, while the rest of the high-gloss skin
seems to have been covered by a single paint layer seeking a similar effect as that on the portrait of
Maximus. The reason for applying the thin white layers beneath the painted eyelashes in the areas
around the eyes is difficult to explain. Perhaps the purpose was a visual effect much like the effects
of makeup applied onto the delicate skin around the eyes in order to conceal the natural shadows?
The thin layers of lead white (or traces thereof) in the areas around the eyes were, however, not
documented on the any of the portraits of Maximus or on any other Roman sculptures making the
layers of lead white on the portraits of the youth unique instances. This indicates that the painting
techniques which the Roman craftsmen were in possession of, were multiple and rather complex
and varied from portrait to portrait.
On one of the portraits of Maximus (cat. No. 13) cinnabar was identified as part of the original paint
mixture used for colouring the high-gloss skin. The use of cinnabar for painted skin has been
identified on Roman wall paintings: on a fragment from a wall-painting from the ‘dance of the
Baccante’ fresco, from the Villa of Mysteries in Pompeii (dating to the first century CE) a mixture
of ochre’s, cinnabar and Egyptian blue pigments were used to convey the skin colour of a female
figure.746 On an Etruscan wall painting from the Tomba dell’Orco in the necropolis of Tarquinia
(dating to the fourth century BCE) cinnabar was added to paint mixtures used for painting the
reddish-tanned complexion of the male-figures (fig. B:170).747
As illustrated by the portrait of Maximus, the skin paint on white marble portraiture did not only
differ in techniques of application but also in the manipulated colour properties of the paint
mixtures applied. The portrait of Maximus was, by adding cinnabar to the ‘standard’ mixture of
ochres and Egyptian blue, painted differently than the other two portraits of Maximus from Case
Study 2b, perhaps even given a slightly darker tonal value of skin complexion. Such small
adjustments in the chromatic scales of (presumably – see above) Caucasian skin colours may have
sought specific visual appearances that were in alignment with the ideal reflected by Roman writers
such as Seneca, Pliny the Elder and Suetonius: that a healthy spirit of a man was recognised by the
well-balanced complexion of his skin.748
746
Aliatis et al. 2010, 1540. Cinnabar was also used for skin colour on Macedonian wall paintings, see: Brecoulaki and
Perdikatsis 2002, 152. See also Siddall 2006, 28-29.
747
Sodo et al. 2008, 1040.
748
As discussed above. Thompson 1989, 131.
158
On the portrait of the unidentified man from Asia Minor (cat. No. 15) the complete absence of any
pigments on the high-gloss polished areas suggests that the marble surface was originally
intentionally spared the application of additional paint. This would, however, be the first male
representation (which was not depicting a God) with marble white skin. Further data on male
portraits, where results from examinations suggest that the skin was left marble white, is therefore
needed in order to conclude on this particular aspect of the polychromy of white marble Roman
portraits.
Results from scientific examinations have continuously proven that the exposed skin surfaces of
ancient marble sculptures were fully painted. However, whether or not white marble was also used
to depict skin colour continues to be a much debated topic amongst scholars, as archaeological
evidence suggests that skin areas could also sometimes be left marble white.749 What scholars have
yet to conclude on is the extent to which the white marble sculptures were painted; and how such
extends was defined by the sculpture itself. As noted above examples on sculptures with intentional
marble white skin exists, but the portrait of the unknown man is the only example, so far, where no
traces of paint is observed on the marble skin of a male portrait. The portrait originates from
Rhodes, unlike the rest of the portraits from Case Study 2 which originate from Rome. Could the
difference in execution of the skin be an expression of local painting traditions (as seem to also
have been the case with the portrait of the Beauty from Palmyra)? The sculpting of the facial
features of the unidentified man does not resemble any of the other high-gloss polished portraits,
suggesting that the portrait did not only separate itself in style of sculpting but also in style of
painting?
749
The extensive paint remains on an alabaster statuette of Aphrodite and Eros, dating to 150-50 BCE and originating
from Byblos, show that the hair, details in and around the eyes and the jewellery worn by the Goddess were all picked
out in paint and leaf gold. The carnation, on the other hand, seems to have been left marble white. (London, British
Museum, 1914.10-20.1. Blume 2009, 757-758; Blume 2010, 249). On a marble statuette of Venus, the so-called
“Bikini-Venus”, from the house of Iulia Felix in Pompeii, dating to the first century CE, the well-preserved polychromy
show that eyes, hair and gilded bikini were all accentuated by paint and leaf-gold, while the skin was marble white
(Naples, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. No. 152798. Østergaard 2008, 47; Porat 2005, 18-22; Østergaard 2010,
98). On a figural table support, a trapezophorus, representing Dionysos and Pan, dating to the second century CE, hair
and facial details were painted, while the naked body of Dionysos, polished to a high-gloss, seems to have been left in
the marble white of the glossy surface. It should be noted, that the remaining colours on the trapezophorus has not been
examined. It has therefore not been securely documented whether or not the high-gloss carnation surface of Dionysos
was originally unpainted. (National Archaeological Museum, Athens, inv. No. 5706. Mandel 2010, 306; Blume 2009,
759). Examples on what may be interpret as ‘marble’-white skin is shown on Roman wall paintings. On a wall painting
of a statue of Mars put on a high base in a garden, originating from Casa della Venere in Conchiglia in Pompeii and
dating to the 60s CE, the deity is represented completely nude except for helmet, shield, spear and mantle. The body is
white, suggesting the natural properties of the marble stone, while facial details and hair are coloured. (Pompeii, Casa
della Venere in Conchiglia, garden peristyle. Stewart 2003, 38-40; Østergaard 2008, 46; Bradley 2009A, 443-445;
Blume 2009, 759-760; Mandel 2010, 309-310).
159
The debate remains unresolved and more research is needed in the future before we can lay the
speculations on the purposes of painted vs. non-painted marble skin to rest. For the time being I
propose a middle ground including both; not necessarily to satisfy the romantic aesthetician within
the author but to ensure an open mind to the possibility that the Roman craftsmen exploited all
aspects of the material properties of both marble and paint at hand.750 As discussed further above,
results from examinations of skin paint on Roman portraits and ideal sculpture indicate that the
craftsmen textured and painted the marble surfaces in many varieties including matte and glossy
textures painted with opaque as well as translucent paint mixtures of different tonal values. The
marble white skin may therefore have constituted a part of this visual vocabulary.
Facial details
All of the high-gloss polished portraits have details in the eyes and eyebrows picked out by chisel,
except for the unidentified man (cat. No. 15), which had such details picked out in paint. On the two
unidentified youths from Case Study 2a, details such as tear ducts and upper and lower eyelids were
accentuated by a finely painted pink colouration. And in the iris in the eye of cat. No. 10, a
brown/red paint mixtures suggests an original brownish eye colour (fig. B:162). On one of the
Maximus portraits from Case Study 2b (cat. No. 14) black paint was used for the pupil. All of the
drilled pupils were deliberately drilled in the shape of a heart instead of being completely circular.
When accentuated by black paint the heart-shaped caveat resulting from the characteristic drillwork performs a sculpted imitation of a natural highlight of the human eye (fig. B:143). Though the
real life human eye is circular the creative shape of the drilled version on the marble portraits
would, when the pupil was painted black but leaving the small non-drilled ‘flick’ white, have
provided an artistic imitation of a life-like reflection of light which can be seen in the human eye.
Furthermore visible remains from the once painted upper eyelashes can be seen on both portraits of
cat. No. 10 and 11. The painted eyelashes are similar to those, which are still visible on the Caligula
portrait and on the togatus from Formia (mentioned above), although more delicately executed.
750
An original tinting (the so-called ganosis treatment, mentioned in written sources; see chapter 1) of the skin has been
favored by some modern scholars (Pollini, Herz, Polikreti and Maniatis 1998, 284). On whether or not scholarly
arguments for a partially or tinted painting of the skin on Roman sculptures should be considered as a modern neoclassist aesthetic constructions, see Østergaard 2004, 110; Østergaard 2008, 47; Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and
Brinkmann 2014B, 148.
160
Pink colour was found between the lips on the portrait of Maximus (cat. No 14) and the two
unidentified youths (cat. No. 10 and 11), just as it was documented on the statue of Fundilia Rufa
(cat. No. 2), on the Caligula portrait and the Treu Head (see above).751
751
Østergaard 2009, 211; Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010, 46-47; Therkildsen 2012, 48.
161
CHAPTER 6
The materiality of polychrome white marble portraiture
Chapter 3 concluded that painted white marble portraiture was a specialized craft separating itself
from producing coloured sculptures from other materials, including metals, coloured stones,
limestone, terracotta, wood and wax. This Chapter will continue this discussion and explore the
technical production of the marble portraits presented above in more detail, by summing up the use
of historical pigments and white marble types observed on the portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 and
what their manner of application may be able to reveal on the tradition of producing painted white
marble sculptures during the first three centuries CE. The Chapter will discuss the materiality of the
painted portraits; meaning their manipulated materials and what economic, traditional and social
values they may have been originally ascribed. Some materials were more expensive than others,
and this Chapter will examine what the different uses of materials can reveal of how the portraits
were originally commissioned and perceived; a topic which will be discussed in much more detail
in Chapters 7 and 8. Finally this section will explore why the white marble – which became the
most popularly used sculptural material during the first three centuries CE – was chosen for
polychrome portraiture, by examining the technical and creative processes of creation and
production which the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 represent.
It should be emphasised that the observations presented below are preliminary. As research into the
painting of Roman portraits, and sculpture in general, is a relatively new research field, more
research will be needed in the future to support or dismiss what the dissertation intends to discuss
below. There are several methodological and theoretical caveats connected to research into artistic
traditions of sculpting and painting Roman portraits; mainly because the material at hand is
fragmented, making it difficult to make overall statements as to how the painted marble portraits
were originally ascribed their value.
The visual appearances of the individual marble sculptures were affected by numerous different
aspects; first of all the different agencies (see A4), which impacted on their creation (such as the
materials, the craftsmen, the commissioner, and – in case of the portraits – their sitters). But the
process of creating the sculptures was not the only aspect affecting how they looked and
subsequently to how they were originally experienced. Other aspects such as weathering, gradual
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deterioration and maintenance and any deliberate re-sculpting and re-painting would have been
crucial to their appearance altering and sometimes completely changing their form and colour.
This Chapter will address some of these variables, which affected the original visual outcome of the
painted marble portraits. Some of them can be traced on the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2,
such as the material and artistic agencies; while others are merely speculative, such as any regular
upkeep resulting from deterioration or re-use.
B6.1: Material agencies
Many different agencies were actively participating in shaping the visual appearances of the painted
marble portraits. This section will take a closer look at the material agencies in particular (pigments,
binders, marble, etc.) and how the different material properties defined and shaped the polychrome
look of each marble portrait, by focussing on their production and any economic costs related
thereto.
Pigments
The same basic repertoire of pigments was applied for the original colouration of the portraits from
Case Studies 1 and 2. In some cases the manner of mixing and applying the pigments seem to have
been very similar (layers in the hair, including underdrawings, and details surrounding the eyes and
lips), while in other cases the manner of application appears to have been much more diverse (skin
paint).
Yellow: paint layers of yellow hues were exclusively obtained from mixtures composed by finely
grinded ochre pigments. Yellow ochres also constituted one of the prime components for skin paint
mixtures. Together with the red and brown ochres (see below) the yellow ochres were categorized
as colores austeri by Pliny the Elder meaning the pigments that were supplied by the painters own
expense, which indicate that the pigments were neither rare nor expensive.752 One of the coveted
qualities of the ochre pigments seems to have been their material properties allowing for them to be
extremely finely grinded, as well as their durability.
752
Plin. HN. 35.30.
163
Red: primarily red ochre-based pigments were used, both intermixed with other pigments and alone,
covering a large spectrum of varying hues and differing in saturation, tone and brightness. The
differences in colour properties were dependent on how the pigments were washed and grinded but
also on the geological origins of the soils. According to Pliny the Elder, some red ochre pigments
were considered inferior to others, highlighting in particular ochre from Sinopis and Lemnos
because of their differing colour properties evolving around red hues which could even rival or
supplement those of cinnabar.753 Pliny furthermore notes that the production of ochre pigments was
vast and ranging in qualities and economic expenses.754
Besides red ochres, cinnabar was also used as a component for paint mixture of different hues.
Cinnabar is categorized as a colores floridi by Pliny the Elder, meaning that the application of it
would have been at the commissioners own expense. The use of cinnabar, exclusively added to
mixtures of red ochre (the hair of Capito) or skin paint (Maximus, cat. No. 13), suggests that the
expensive pigment was used to extend and brighten the paint application, as has already been
elaborated on above.
Brown: the brown hues observed on the portrait sculptures were exclusively obtained by ochre. The
brown ochre pigments are found in the hair, both as what appears to have been shadow effects
embedded in the chiselled contours (the hair on the portrait of Fundilius), and as final layers (the
portraits of Maximus, cat. No. 13 and 14). Like both the red and yellow ochres, brown ochres were
also categorized by Pliny the Elder as colores austeri.755
Black: carbon black pigments, obtained from either burned wood, animal bones or something else,
are present on most of the portraits and would have been available to every Roman craftsman. The
black pigments appear to have been primarily used for shades, as well as underdrawings (such as
the finely painted curl by the fringes on the forehead of the portrait of Maximus, cat. No. 13).
Blue: the most frequently observed blue pigment on the portraits from both case studies is Egyptian
blue. The pigment appears in most paint mixtures used for painting the skin colours as well as to
provide darker tonal values and shades. The portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 may have been
produced in or around Rome (except for the portrait of the unidentified man from Case Study 2c)
753
Plin. HN. 35.31-34
Plin. HN.35. 32.
755
Plin. HN. 35.30.
754
164
making it reasonable to assume that the Egyptian blue pigments used for their colouration were
produced at one of the manufacturing sites at Cuma, Liternum or Puteoli.756
It is difficult to establish to which group of floridi and austeri Egyptian blue may have belonged.
Bright blue colours were highly prized for painterly decorations during the Roman Empire. Since
Egyptian blue is composed of highly saturated, bright blue hues, and since the pigment is
extensively described in particular by Vitruvius, modern scholars have tended to assume, that
Egyptian blue was a precious pigment in antiquity.757
However, Egyptian blue pigments are mainly documented on the case studies as part of paint
mixtures (such as skin paint and shadow effects), which did not seek blue hues (except for the
‘vacant’ space between the foot and capsa on the statue of (Fundilius). Its extensive use for
anything but blue hued paint mixtures suggests that the synthetically obtained pigment was largely
produced and implemented as a substitute for – or extension of – the more rare blue minerals.758
In the two instances of Case Studies 1 and 2 where paint mixtures deliberately sought a blue hue the
pigments used for the paint layers may have been azurite (in the incised letters on the herm shaft of
Capito and on the palla on the statue of Fundilia). Due to its material and polychrome properties,
offering a high cover percentage and high saturation, azurite may have been applied for exceptional
blue colourations (and the commissioner paid extra for the bright blue effect), while Egyptian blue
was used as a basic component to provide paint mixtures with a certain depth. The synthetically
created Egyptian blue pigments were easier to obtain (especially for the craftsmen working in or
around central Italy) than the azurite mineral (Pliny the Elder notes that azurite was produced at
Cyprus759).
White: the identification of white pigments on the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 is restricted
to the two portraits of the unidentified youth from Case Study 2a. On both portraits thin layers of
white were detected, but further examinations were not carried out in order to establish and
determine a geological origin of the lead.760
756
Vitr. De Arch. 9. Nicholsen 2003; Hatton et al. 2008, 1592; Caputo and Cavassa 2009. The reasons for the high
activity of Egyptian blue pigment production in this specific area may be the particularly fine sand in the Volturno
River, which was an important source for obtaining silica-lime for glass-production; but may also have been a main
component for producing Egyptian blue pigments. The sand is mentioned by Plin. HN. 36. 66. Lazzarini and Verità
2015, 585.
757
Baraldi et al. 2006, Boschetti, Corradi and Baraldi 2008, 1090; Bradley 2009B, 448-449.
758
Edreira, Feliu, Fernandez-Lorenzo, Martin 2003; Siddall 2006, 24-25; Ingo et al. 2013, 4284; Skovmøller, Brøns and
Sargent forthcoming.
759
Plin. HN. 33.161.
760
On analysis carried out to determine the origin of lead contents in antique pigments, see Fink-Jensen 2013.
165
Pink: madder lake pigments have been identified on several of the portraits, mainly for accentuating
sculpted facial details. Madder lake was a dye used to colour textiles. To apply it in pigment form
therefore meant a processing of its material properties, which could be done by absorbing the dye,
e.g. a calcium carbonate base, which was then crushed and ground into pigment powder.761
Madder lake does not seem to have been an expensive pigment. Vitruvius notes that madder could
be used to imitate the effects of more expensive colourants, including purpura.762 I will return to this
in C7.2 and C9.2.
The marble materials
All of the marbles used for the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 are in alignment with the
marbles used in and around Rome during the first three centuries CE. The different degrees of
manipulation, which the marble surfaces were subjected to, were primarily intended to facilitate a
visual differentiation between certain sculpted elements, making for example the different textiles
of the clothed sculptural bodies visually separate and to provide different grounds for painterly
effects.
Afyon marble: the uniform white and fine-grained Afyon marble (the statue of Fundilius and the
head of Fundilia (the statue)), came from Phrygia (modern day Turkey), and was considered a fine
material for sculptures during the first century CE.763
The portrait statue of Fundilius was cut in one piece (except for the arms) which would have
demanded a fairly large-sized marble block. Having such a large block of marble transported to a
workshop in Rome would therefore not have been without a certain cost.764 According to Ben
Russell a life-like figure in white marble with a volume of approx. 1m3 should weigh approximately
761
At Akrotiri on the Greek Island of Thera, examinations of well-preserved purpura pigments revealed, that the dye
was turned into pigment in such a fashion. Sotiropoulou, Perdikatsis, Birtacha, Apostolaki and Deretzi 2012, 271.
Perhaps the madder lake dye was processed into a pigment form in a similar fashion? For more on purpura dye and
pigment see chapter 1.
762
Vitr. De Arch. 7.14.
763
Attanasio 2003, 155.
764
Unfortunately we know very little of the costs involved with making Roman marble sculptures during the Roman
Empire. Duncan-Jonas and Claridge suggest that the major cost was the labour of the craftsmen, meaning that the
marble itself was not the biggest expense. Duncan-Jones 1982, 111, note no. 394; Claridge 1988, 139, note 7.
166
2,700 kg. Moving a piece of marble in such a size would have been a logistically demanding and
expensive task.765
The natural properties of the Afyon stone allowed for a high level and detailing and surface
texturing of the sculpture. The delicate shaping of the short-cut thin hair locks (fig. B:17) and soft,
almost velvet-like, polish of both skin and thin leather shoes on both feet (fig. B:21) were all artistic
expressions that were presupposed by the material properties of the stone itself. The artistic process
of de-materialization by chiselling, texturing and polishing on the statue of Fundilius made the
stone resemble familiar human elements such as skin, hair and textiles. In particular the toga
exceeded in this: the small wrinkles cover the entire surface (fig. B:19 and B:20), and the wavy
folds, following the edges of the sculpted textile draped over the proper left shoulder and arm,
imitate the natural effects of a draped, wrinkled fabric extraordinarily well.
Carrara marble: what remains from the statue body of Fundilia and the portrait of Chrysarion were
produced from Carrara marble from northern Italy. The quarries at Carrara were intensively
exploited from the middle of the first century BCE, when building activities in Rome increased.
Blocks of the uniform white, elastic and fine-grained marble therefore became a standard
commodity in Roman and Italic workshops at the middle of the first century CE.766
The statue of Fundilia was cut from a single large block of Carrara marble, except for the hands and
the head (made from Afyon marble). One may speculate on why the head was cut separately. The
portrait body may have been pre-produced in the Roman workshop and then later, when
commissioned, fitted to an additionally sculpted portrait head. The practice of pre-cutting marble
portrait statuary to await the portrait of a future commissioner is known from the sculptors ‘studio’
in Aphrodisias.767 A half-finished marble statue was discovered in the area behind the city
Bouleuterion, together with a number of other half-finished marble sculptures. The statue depicting
a man clad in toga was almost completely finished; except for the head which was given the rough
contours of an individual portrait (fig. B:171). The practice of pre-sculpting a sculptural form
leaving in particular the portrait head unfinished seems also to have been a somewhat standard
practice in the production of Roman sarcophagi.768
765
Russell 2015, 189.
Attanasio 2003, 168; van Keuren, Attanasio, Gromet and Herz 2009; Pensabene 2012, 734-740; Attanasio, Brilli,
Ungaro and Vitti 2012; Pensabene, Antonelli, Lazzarini and Cancelliere 2012; Lapuente, Léon, Nogales, Royo, PreiteMartinez and Blanc 2012; Attanasio, Bruno, Prochaska and Yavuz 2013, table 2.
767
Rockwell 1991.
768
Birk 2013.
766
167
Or, the separately sculpted pieces, including the separately sculpted arms on the statue of Fundilius,
may testify to the practice of the craftsmen within the Roman workshop. Evidence from Roman
workshops indicate that the Roman craftsmen divided the labour between them and that they even
specialized in sculpting different features of the commissions.769 The entire statue of Fundilius was
sculpted in one piece, perhaps by a master of the workshop. The portrait of Fundilia was sculpted
from the same material and perhaps by the same craftsman, while the body was executed (presculpted?) by another.
The choice of Carrara marble for the statuary body of Fundilia and the hours of labour put into
sculpting it may have been less expensive than what was used for the statue of Fundilius, but its
overall execution was an intentional and deliberate process. The sculptural shaping and surface
texturing helped separate the three layers of tunica, stola and palla, by providing illusions of
delicate and coarse textiles (fig. B:31, B:32 and B:33). The surface of the palla covering a large
percentage of the sculptural body was provided with a different texture composed by superficial
criss-cross patterns covering the pronouncing parts of the folds resembles a twill-woven
herringbone-pattern of finely woven woollen textiles (fig. B:33).770 The fine-grained Carrara
marble, which the entire body was sculpted from, provided the perfect material for such detailed
sculpting and surface texturing. Pure and without discolouration, and with a very small grain size,
the elasticity of the stone allowed for a high level of detailing.771
Parian marble: the remaining herm portraits of Quinta, Rufus, Capito, the man wearing a wreath and
the young, unidentified woman were all produced from Parian marble, the sparkling finish, which
can be observed on the portrait of Rufus, indicates that they were made from the famous Lychnites
(see chapter 1). Lychnites marble was only quarried in small quantities during the first century CE
making it an almost exclusive medium for small-scale sculptural productions.772 The tight grain
structure of the stones allowed for soft, matte polishes of the exposed skin areas on all the portraits,
as well as an individual and detailed execution of the coiffures - in particular the elaborate
hairstyles of the portraits of Quinta and the young unidentified woman (fig. B:50 and B:75).
769
Hallett 2008; Smith 2008; Trimble 2011, 137.
On the materials used for palla and stola: Scholz 1992, 84-88; Sebesta 2001, 48; Harlow 2012, 39-40.
771
Peter Rockwell lists Carrara marble amongst the stones with the greatest tool receptivity, Rockwell 1993, 20.
772
The portrait statue of Augustus from Prima Porta (fig. 0:1) was made from Parian lychnites. Pollini, Herz, Polikreti
and Maniatis 1998.
770
168
Göktepe marble: the portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14) and the unidentified youth (cat. No. 10 and
11) were all produced from Göktepe marble. Göktepe was a popular sculptural material during the
first three centuries CE. It offered an elastic, uniform white and fine-grained quality which took
detailing and texturing extremely well, making it an obvious choice for high-gloss polished marble
works. The material qualities of the Göktepe stones provided the perfect canvas for these particular
portraits: the glossy texture of the skin contrasts the rougher execution of the hair, where a sharp flat
chisel was used to provide the illusion of very short cut hair combed from the back of the head to
the front.
The final stage of surface finish, which the marble sculptures can obtain, removing all tool traces
visible to the naked eye, is the high gloss polish which all the portraits from Case Study 2 were
given.773 Although we know very little of how the Roman craftsmen obtained this particular surface
finish (see chapter 1), we can conclude that it must have been time-consuming to obtain (without
the aid of modern power-tools).774 Not all marble stones could receive this finish, but the finegrained and the elastic Göktepe marble was aptly suited.775
Combining the agencies of paint and marble
The materials mattered greatly to the visual polychrome appearances of the individual marble
portraits. Some of the materials were easily obtained, while others demanded extra resources. But
they all had one important factor in common: all of the materials were produced and manipulated to
support each other in creating certain desired visual effects embodied within painted marble
portraiture.776 Each pigment, binder and marble base was chosen with these specific purposes in
mind and as such the success of the final visual result greatly relied on their material properties and
their individual ability to exist in a symbiotic relationship with the other materials. Together the
material properties de-materialized each other in order to adapt to the illusions of human skin, hair
and textiles.
In the cases of the fine-grained marble types used for the statues of Fundilius, Fundilia and the
heads of Maximus and the unidentified youth their material properties presupposed the levels of
773
Pfanner 1989, 228; Rockwell 1993, 48-50; Rockwell 2004, 3, 30-31. For a detailed description of a high-gloss polish
see A1.2.
774
On the marble copy of the youth, which was produced from Sivec marble from northern Greece, obtaining the highgloss polish took two weeks. Sculpting the marble copy of the head took, in total, one and a half month. See also
Rockwell 2004, 30-31.
775
Rockwell 1993, 20-21
776
I shall return to discuss the idealized life-likeness of the painted marble portraits in much more detail in Chapter 8.
169
artistic refinements which the craftsmen could pursue. The visual appearances of each marble
portrait were therefore affected by the material agencies of the chosen marble blocks. The choices
of the different white stones were not accidental; on the contrary the material properties of the
individual marbles played a significant role. The levels of receptivity to the sculpting tools, with the
high-gloss polish being one of the most time-consuming, was dependent on the morphological
qualities of the stones, making the choice of the right white marble type essential to the end
result.777 Scholars should therefore be careful to place too much emphasis on the symbolic values of
the individual white marble types,778 and instead prioritize a practical approach focusing on their
different material properties as being the main motivation behind the careful selection.
Scientific analysis of Roman wall paintings and pigment pots from Herculaneum and Pompeii have
shown, that the basic pigments used in most of these Roman contexts were ochres, Egyptian blue,
madder lake, green earths, calcium carbonates for whites (deriving from chalk, crushed limestone
and such), cinnabar and carbon black.779 Bright green hues were obtained by mixing Egyptian blue
and yellow ochres instead of applying the expensive malachite. And purple hues were obtained by
mixing Egyptian blue with madder lake or ochres and rarely from the expensive purpurissum
pigments which derived from the dye made from mollusc snails.780
The pigments used for decorating the provincial, domestic architecture in Herculaneum and
Pompeii were therefore very similar to those identified on the marble portraits of Case Studies 1 and
2 which mostly relied on the colores austeri pigments. Only in a few cases have colores floridi been
observed on the painted portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2: the portrait statue of Fundilia, the
portrait of Capito and the portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14). These portraits therefore separate
themselves from the rest because the commissioner would have paid extra to have certain pigments
applied. In particular the portrait of Capito stands out in this respect. Made from Parian marble,
perhaps even lychnites, and given a bright reddish hair colour composed by mixing ochre and
cinnabar, as well as a saturated, bright blue paint mixtures for the letters in the inscription which
may have constituted of azurite of the herm shaft, the portrait of the Roman rhetor may have
exceeded all the other portraits in economic expense. Whether it rivalled the two portrait statues of
777
Pfanner 1989, 228-229; Rockwell 1993, 20; Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2012, 40-44; Skovmøller 2014, 293-294;
Skovmøller and Therkildsen 2015, 896-899.
778
Scholars have argued that choosing, for example, Parian lychnites for sculptural production was mainly symbolic
because the stone during the Roman Empire had a value in itself. Pollini; Herz, Polikreti and Maniatis 1998, 281-284.
779
Siddall 2006; Giachi et al. 2009.
780
Siddall 2006, 28-30; Giachi et al. 2009, 1021.
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Rufa and, in particular, the statue of Fundilius is, however, difficult to conclude on. In order to put
forth such estimation more exact knowledge on the individual expenses relating to the different
materials applied for making polychrome marble portraiture is needed.
B6.2: Maintenance
An important aspect of how the painted portrait sculptures of Case Studies 1 and 2 were originally
produced and consumed, and which would have affected their visual appearances, was their gradual
deterioration and regular maintenance. Once put on display the polychrome portraits would have
needed cleaning, restoration and refreshing of their painted surfaces. Pliny the Elder and Vitruvius
both comment on how some pigments deteriorated over time, and how such deterioration could be
prevented.781
Although such –presumably – regular upkeep would have been vital to the visual appearances of the
painted white marble portraits it is rarely included in modern day scholarship and knowledge on
how maintenance was originally carried out is, therefore, sparse. The following sub-section will
explore: Firstly, the written and epigraphic evidence; secondly, the archaeological evidence of
sculptural maintenance in both Greek and Roman cultures; and thirdly, discuss how such practices
would have affected the original experiences with polychrome marble portraiture.
Literary and archaeological evidence for sculptural maintenance
Written testimonies describe how the old cult statues in Greek sanctuaries were taken care of
(thérapéia) by specifically appointed sculptors and painters during the Roman Empire.782 Pausanias
(travelling during the second century CE) describes how the chryselephantine cult statue of Zeus in
Olympia (which at the time of Pausanias’ visit was more than 600 years old) was cared for by the
so-called phaidruntai; perhaps the descendants from Phidias himself.783 They were to clean and
repair the 12–metre-high statue regularly.
In the inventory lists from the sanctuary at Delos, dating to the period of Delian independency (314166 BCE), the many different acts of maintaining the statues in the sanctuaries were minutely
781
Pliny for example highlights how the precious cinnabar pigment would turn black over time if not protected by a
layer of wax or oil. Plin. HN. 33.120. See A1.3
782
Bourgeoise 2014, 193.
783
‘The descendants of Pheidias, called Cleansers (φαιδρυνταί), have received from the Eleans the privilege of cleaning
the image of Zeus from the dirt that settles on it, and they sacrifice to the Worker Goddess before they begin to polish
the image.’ Pausanias Descriptions of Greece, V, 14, 5, (translated by Capps, Page and Rouse, Loeb 1926).
171
registered.784 The lists also mention different names of more or less qualified craftsmen to take care
of the statues; some of them being both stone carver and painter in one. They were to clean (using
water with nitron), repair damaged parts, refresh the paint or wax layers and to polish and prepare
for re-gilding.785
Unfortunately the written testimonies only mention the maintenance of statues of important deities
dedicated within sanctuaries, and not of portrait statues set up all over the Roman Empire. Were
such sculptural dedications set up in the public, religious and recreational spaces maintained by a
public institution or private initiative? We know from inscriptions that the commissioner of a
portrait statue was, at least in some cases, responsible for taking care of his statues: an inscription
(dating to the middle of the second century CE) from Misenum mentions that a Q. Cominius
Abascantus erected two statues of deities in the forum, which were maintained (cleaned and oiled)
by himself.786
Although the evidence is scarce, maintenance would have been a major part of experiencing
sculptures in the Roman Empire. On a plaque dated to the first half of the first century CE,
depicting an unidentified cult scenario, maenads and satyrs are shown engaged with what appears to
be either bathing or maintaining – or both – a herm sculpture (fig. B:172).787
Furthermore examinations of Hellenistic sculpture and portraiture show remains of maintenance
and re-painting; mostly on terracotta but also on marble.788 The marble portrait head of Berenike II,
dating to the late third century BCE, has several layers of both painting, gilding and waxing, which
testifies to more than one stages of re-painting for reasons unknown (fig. A:23 and A:24).789
On a terracotta figure representing Eros, dating to ca. 150-135 BCE and originally from Priene but
now in the Louvre, examinations of the paint layers covering most of the torso show, that it was
painted during more than one stage (fig. B:173).790 The exposed skin of the torso was first given a
yellow and red ochre based paint mixture applied onto the surface above a white ground, and then
784
Fifteen different terms are used to describe the various acts of maintenance. Bourgeoise 2014, 193.
Bourgeiose 2014, 193-194.
786
Fejfer 2008, 63.
787
Perry 2015, 654 fig. 6.5.1.
788
On repainting of terracotta sculptures see: Bourgeoise 2007; Bourgeoise 2010; Bourgeoise 2014A.
On re-painting of marble sculptures see: Bourgeoise and Jockey 2007; Bourgeoise 2010; Bourgeoise 2014A,
Bourgeoise 2014B, Bourgeoise 2014C.
789
Bourgeoise suggests that the reasons for the repainting of the head might be cultic, since the Berenike head was
originally put on display within a temple in Hermoupolis in Egypt. Bourgeoise 2014, 197.
790
Bourgeois 2014A, fig. 1.
785
172
later given a new white ground with a pinkish paint mixture on top (fig. B:174).791 The second
application of the white ground on top of the originally yellow layer, suggests that the artist wanted
to conceal the first paint layer during the repainting, perhaps because the first layer had begun to
deteriorate?792
Maintaining the painted marble portraits
Throughout the discussion of the original polychromy of the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2, I
have primarily focused on the process of creating painted marble portraiture and less on the
subsequent life of each individual piece. This is because such factors are extremely difficult to
measure. Results from examinations of the portrait sculptures from Case Studies 1 and 2 did not
show any signs of re-freshing or re-painting. But we must assume that they –at least to some extentwould have received some kind of subsequent treatments.
The portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia could have been put on display for a period
spanning several hundreds of years (their stylistic execution suggests that they were produced in the
middle of the first century CE and the sanctuary was abandoned sometime during the fourth or fifth
century CE), perhaps displayed in more than one context. It therefore seems reasonable to assume
that the sculptures must have received some sort of maintenance during this period.
Such maintaining would, depending on extent and dedication, have affected their visual
appearances. We know very little of how differently a marble sculpture could be painted over time.
In the case of the chryselephantine cult statue of Zeus in Olympia, the written testimonies indicate
that the statue was cared for with respect to its original form and colouration.793 But in the case of
the Berenike Head and the terracotta sculpture of Eros mentioned above, results from examinations
suggest that both sculptures were given several re-paintings of their surfaces which drastically
altered their visual appearances.
Bourgeois points out, correctly in the author’s opinion, that what modern day scholars are lacking –
and which scientific examinations have been unable to fully answer so far – is how time affected
the look of polychrome sculpture.794 Ancient marble portraits were given invasive alterations such
as resculptings, which changed their visual purposes drastically.795 But the washing down of
791
Bourgeoise 2014A, fig. 1-2, note 17.
Bourgeoise 2014, 202.
793
See note 781 above.
794
Bourgeoise 2014, 191.
795
On resculpting and reusing Roman portraits see: Hannestad 1994; Varner 2004; Moltesen 2007; Prusac 2011.
792
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original paint layers, or covering them by new ones, offered a less invasive way of re-creating or reusing the marble portraiture already at hand. In the future, much more research must therefore be
dedicated to this aspect of ancient, sculptural polychromy, as the continuing life of each, individual
painted marble portrait, and their regular maintenance and re-paintings, are crucial to our
knowledge of how the portraits were originally consumed; and therefore also to how the ancient
viewers originally experienced them.
B6.3: Artistic agencies
Amanda Claridge argues in her article from 1988 that the major cost for sculptural productions was
the labour of the sculptor.796And as has been discussed in the Introduction, the craftsmen within a
Roman workshop seem to have divided the work tasks between them, specializing in sculpting
specific elements of the individual commissions including heads, bodies, hands and feet. 797
Furthermore the sculptural workshops of the Roman Empire also seem to have been organized as a
pyramid constructed hierarchy with a master carver at the top, training several apprentices who
were, as he himself once was, trained from they were very young.798 Sculptural workshops may
have been numerous within and around the greater cities of the Roman Empire, and in the city of
Aphrodisias the workshops competed with each other for sculptural commissions by differentiating
themselves in styles of sculpturing techniques and exceeding in quality.799 The role of artistic
agency – or agencies – was therefore highly influential to the visual outcome of the sculptural
productions. As noted in chapter 1 the tools and basic approaches to sculpting a marble sculpture
may have been the same, but how the tools were applied (in what order and to which purposes)
differed from workshop to workshop.800 This final sub-section will explore the artistic process of
sculpting, texturing and painting the marble portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 as a result of – not
only the agencies of the materials themselves – but also as results of the intuitively embodied
knowledge of these materials which was possessed by the Roman craftsmen.
796
Claridge 1988, 139, note 7.
Rockwell 1990; Rockwell 1993, 178; Conlin 1997, 87-88; Hallett 2008; Smith 2008; Trimble 2011, 137-140.
798
Conlin 1997, 31.
799
See Smith 2008B.
800
Smith 2008B, 113-117.
797
174
Incorporating the white marble in the visual appearances of the painted portraits
Results from the examinations of the portraits belonging to Case Studies 1 and 2 show that all the
portraits were either fully or partially covered by paint. The manner of application used for the
individual sculptures seem to have varied according to area, suggesting that the craftsmen
incorporated the natural material properties of the marble surfaces in different ways depending –to
some extent – on how the surface was textured.
On the palla worn by the statue of Fundilia the compact layers of a warm purple/reddish colour,
found in several areas of the marble surface, seems to have been the dominating, basic colour of the
large mantle (fig. B:39). The paint application consisted of a mixture of pigments applied directly
onto the marble surface in at least one, thin, yet opaque, layer. The pigments used for the paint
mixture were extremely finely ground and when applied in thin layers, the painted finish would
have incorporated the texture of the marble stone underneath. The scratchy and coarse texture made
up by criss-cross patterns on the pronouncing folds of the sculpted palla, would have absorbed the
light hitting the surface thereby adding a saturated, dull effect to the applied paint layer. Combined
with the opaque nature of the paint mixture, the final visual result, when light hit the surface, would
have been a visual illusion of a finely-woven, woollen fabric.
While the painting of the sculpted garments and hair seems to have been fully covering and
supplementing and extending the sculpted form, the techniques used for colouring the skin was
different; and even seems to have varied from portrait to portrait. In the cases of the portraits of the
unidentified youth (cat. No. 10 and 11) and the portrait of Maximus (cat. No. 14) the natural
luminosity, provided by the fine-grained, glossy surface of the Göktepe marble was directly
incorporated into the polychrome finish, explaining the total lack of any white pigments in the skin
paint. By exploiting the natural effects of the high-gloss polish, the polychrome visual result was a
life-like imitation of smooth and luminous, youthful skin.
Examinations of the portrait of the unidentified man from Rhodes (cat. No. 15, fig. B:132) did not
prove to have any remains from a once covering paint layer on the skin surface, suggesting that the
high-gloss polish was, in this particular case, most likely functioning as skin colour. The reason for
using the luminous effect of the fine-grained white marble, when the rest of the examined portraits
from Case Studies 1 and 2 revealed fully covering paint layers on all surfaces of the skin areas, is, at
the present stage of research, difficult to conclude on as I touched upon shortly above. However, on
the statue of Fundilius (cat. No. 1) the natural colours of the fine-grained white Afyon marble was
175
partially incorporated in the final polychromy of the toga garment. The placement of the red
pigments was limited to certain areas of the surface; while the rest was left in the natural colours of
the white marble stone itself. The direct incorporation of the marble explains the highly detailed
surface of the toga, which completes the illusion of a finely woven textile, including small wrinkles
on the surface and by the edges of the fictive textile.801
Artistic agencies and the collective Roman mind
The different types of white marble stone and the many varieties of pigments and binders offered
numerous ways of creating polychrome portraiture, which may explain why the white marble stones
became the most popularly used sculptural material during the first three centuries CE. The marbles
were shaped, scraped, chiselled, punctuated and polished in a variety of different ways to adjust the
surfaces to the paint application and visual effects to which the sculpture aspired. The pigments
were produced in multiple formats ranging broadly in colour properties, not just between the
colores austeri and the colores floridi, but also within the same pigment groups. Ochres were not
just applied as the lesser expensive pigment but could rival the properties and effects of expensive
minerals. And gold could be applied to visually appear as highlights of well-groomed hair. All the
different materials were employed and manipulated within the same visual frame and as such they
either maintained the optical effects of their natural material properties or participated in symbiotic
relationships effectively de-materializing each other to obtain radically different semiotic and
aesthetic visual purposes.
The three-dimensional, sculpted skin seems to have been painted in many different ways, as I
argued above. And as the manner of marble surface texturing does not appear to have been
significantly influential in this respect, it seems reasonable to assume that such variations could be
ascribed to the agencies of the sitter, the commissioner and – perhaps most importantly – the artist.
The use of cinnabar in the paint mixture for colouring the skin on the portrait of Maximus (cat. No.
13) would have been supplied by the commissioner; meaning that such aspects of the technical
creation of the portraits were largely affected by the patron of the commissioner. But in the cases of
varying application techniques used for the skin painting of the portraits of the youth (cat. No. 10
and 11), were thin layers of lead white were placed beneath the skin paint above and beneath the
eyes, such alterations may be attributed to the craftsman himself. On the portrait of the man from
801
On the woollen fabrics of Roman togas: Martial, Epigrams, 12.18.5; George 2008, 99.
176
Asia Minor (cat. No. 15), the complete absence of any pigments in the areas of the face suggests
that this particular portrait may have had marble-white skin. Whether this absence of skin paint
should be interpreted as a particular practice of an eastern workshop remains open to debate, and
further examinations of similar instances of marble white skin on Roman portraits are needed before
this theory can be supported or dismissed. It is, however, interesting that the skin colour of the
Beauty from Palmyra (fig. A:26) was made from a mixture lacking Egyptian blue pigments, which
is otherwise the most commonly observed pigment component on Roman marble portraits and ideal
sculpture (see above).
The final visual appearances of the painted marble portraits and the creative process from which
they originated were influenced by an extended Roman mind which was constructed and being
constructed by the social frames surrounding the overall production and consumption of painted
Roman marble portraiture. The combinations of texturing and paint observed on the examined
portraits testifies to a sculptural tradition, where focus on the interaction between surfaces and light
was considered an important part of the final visual effects of three-dimensional polychrome marble
portraits. The marble surfaces were processed and prepared for the subsequent paint layers like
canvasses; but the absolute final finish was light hitting the surface and bringing the effects of the
symbiotic relationship between the natural material properties of marble and paint to life.
The exploitation of the material properties of the different stones exhibits an excellent knowledge
on behalf of the Roman craftsmen of the various possibilities of artistic effects which the marble
materials allowed for. It testifies to an artistic resourcefulness in the creation of portraits where the
final polychrome appeal was carefully planned, already when choosing the marble block.
The different ways of incorporating the marble material on the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2
show that the marble stones were carefully exploited and dematerialized, aiming at a certain level of
life-likeness. Because of their unique material signatures the marble stones were preferred above
other sculptural materials for life-like, yet idealized, imitations of real human hair, skin and textiles.
The individual qualities of the white marble stones provided a certain type of canvas, a
sophisticated, pure and sometimes extraordinarily luminous base for the polychrome effects: a
‘clean slate’, which could be detailed and textured to imitate life-like human hair, skin and textiles.
The creation of polychrome portraits from white marble stones was therefore a complex artistic
process based on several phases of dematerialization of both marble and paint, seeking a visual
experience evolving around illusionistic optical effects.
177
SECTION C
COLOUR-CODING AND EXPERIENCING POLYCHROME MARBLE
PORTRAITURE
This Section will explore the originally intended polychrome appearances of the portraits presented
in Section B, and how they were meant to be experienced by Roman viewers. The focus of this
Section will in particular be on how the polychromy of the painted marble sculptures was
appreciated by the Roman viewers802 according to the semiotic (recognisable on a conscious level),
as well as supra-semiotic (subconscious) and post-semiotic (any accumulated biographies
developing over time) (A2), effects of their painted finishes. The following Chapters will explore
how the colours were constructed to affect the Roman viewer by using a theoretical approach
referred to as colour-coding (A1, fig. 0:8).
An in-depth exploration of the fact that Roman white marble portraiture was originally – more or
less – fully painted has so far not been attempted. As I argued in A3.2, the exploitation of a
polychromy, which is already provided by nature is not the same as a polychromy which must be
externally produced and intentionally added to the sculpted form. Although the term ‘polychromy’
has come to include all visually definable colour enhancements, and thereby also coloured marbles,
metals and other sculptural materials, the painted effects differed from the naturally occurring
polychromy. The applied paint compromised the material properties of the stone by radically
transforming its natural colour effects. The painted visual appeals which the marble portraits
embodied were aiming at specific stimuli, different from what all the other sculptural materials
were able to provide.
The Section will be divided into three main Chapters, which will attend to the multifaceted levels of
colour-coding individually:
Chapter 7 will discuss the use of colours on the portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 as exercising
agencies. This approach is based on the theoretical assumption that the colours were used for
Defining who this ‘Roman viewer’ is according to gender, age and nationality is not the prime interest of this
dissertation. As stated in the Introduction (p. 16-17), who that viewer was is of little concern to this discussion. By using
the theoretical approach of the extended Roman mind, I wish to transcend any obstacles concerning defining the actual
viewer based on the assumption that the intentionalities of craftsmen and commissioner aimed at certain visual
experiences which would have been recognized by a recipient on the other end. The extended Roman mind provides a
frame of analysis in which the visual outcome of the portraits is determined by the many agencies involved in its
production. Stating who the viewer was is therefore not interesting to this particular discussion, but the notion of a
constructed experience is.
802
178
portrait sculptures as semiotic markers. The remaining reconstructed colours on the portraits are
therefore studied as deliberately, originally chosen to be recognizable to the Roman viewer (a
certain level of colour standardization), and because they evoked specific associations.
The visual appearances of the painted marble portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 are thereby
analysed as incorporating a certain level of inferred intentionality (on behalf of craftsmen as well as
commissioner), motivating a reading of agencies. Grounded within a material culture of polychrome
sculptures (Chapter 3 and Chapter 6), this Chapter will argue that the application of colour-codes
were fixed within complex networks of Roman social relations. As such the painted portraits
reproduced and reinforced multiple visual ‘languages’: stereotypic versions of a Roman reality,
passing through one Roman mind and directed towards another.803
Chapter 8: Furthermore, as visual stimuli, the subconscious, perceptual responses to colours are
affected and conditioned by many aspects concerning the physical environments of colour
experiences (see the Introduction). How you perceive a colour, and how the colour affects your
psychical and emotional state, is conditioned by how the colour relates to its environment. The hue
of red changes according to its surroundings; it will react to other colours, be affected by changing
light source(s) and by the position (physical as well as cultural) of its observer.
This section will therefore attend to the supra-semiotic purposes of the painted marble portraits by
exploring non-material aspects of the painted marble portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2, including
the significance of mimesis (life-like imitation)804 and the originally intended sensory experiences
that the painted marble portraits were intended to produce in the viewer.805 This debate will include
a thorough examination of how the colour-coded polychromy of each portrait ensured a visual
appeal by applying the theoretical approach known as the Uncanny Valley (A7, fig. 0:11). Uncanny
Valley is a theory of how humanized objects need to balance between the poles of familiarity and
realism in order to sustain a visual appeal. By using Uncanny Valley, I will examine how the colourcodes were applied onto the marble portraits to balance the poles of ideal and life-likeness.
Furthermore this section will explore the agency of the Roman viewer and how the visual purpose
of the individual portraits were finalized by encountering the intentionality’s and phantasiai on
behalf of the viewer. This will be done by using Gell’s frame of analysis called Abduction of
Agency (A6, fig. 0:9 and 0:10).
803
Gell 1998, 221; Stewart 2007, 169-170.
Halm-Tisserant 2009.
805
Bradley 2014.
804
179
Chapter 9 will discuss the obstacles concerning examinations of the original, Roman colourperception by attending to the question of whether or not the Roman viewer appreciated colour the
same way as the modern day viewer. As western post-Newtonian colour perception and terminology
is strongly related – and almost inseparable from – colour hue (some may say that colour is hue). It
is important, when examining the purpose of colour on 1,800- to 2,000-year-old marble sculptures,
to remember that our modern appreciation of colour might not be entirely the same as the
Romans.806
The major paradox is that colour perception without the involvement of language seems to support
a universal system while colour perception including language (categorization, naming and
terminology) points to diversity; in other words, the reconstructed colours on the marble portraits
may appear as familiar but how they were originally categorized and exploited is not.807 This
Chapter will therefore seek cognitive coordinates different from those adjusted to a modern,
Western viewer, to explore what may have been a Roman sense of appreciation, by incorporating
research into how Roman rhetorical uses of certain colour terms, including purpureus, can be
compared to the paint remains on the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2.
Chapter 9 will return to the theories on materiality and the humility of things as defined by Miller
and presented in Chapter 3.808 In Chapter 3 a humility of sculptures was argued to have been present
in Roman societies, and this Chapter will narrow down the field to focus on how a humility of
colours may have been present as well. Colours act as powerful social agents on their own terms,
actively participating in shaping and developing human social relations. Colours are what surrounds
and habituate us, but most of the time we see them as negative hallucinations and don’t even notice
them.809 Although the saturated hues used by the Romans have a powerful impact on the modern
Western viewer, because we are not adjusted to such visual effects, this does not mean that the
colours were perceived with a similar emotional reaction by the Romans themselves. To the
Romans the colours used for their white marble portraiture were contextualized within their own
material culture, thus affecting the overall scope of their visual field.
James 1996, 13-14; Bradley 2009, 220; Biggam 2012, 1-8; Bradley 2013, 128-130.
Bornstein 2007, 4.
808
Miller 2005.
809
Batchelor 2002, 12.
806
807
180
Before moving on to the Chapters of this main Section, one final concern with the preliminary
conclusions presented in the following discussion will shortly be highlighted: colours are diffuse,
uncontrollable and impossible to firmly categorize. Locating and defining static colour effects
which were perceived uniformly by all Roman viewers is simply not possible. In the discussions
throughout the following Chapters the arguments may therefore appear as contradictory at times,
but in fact they are not. Rather they reflect the untameable nature of colours and how the
manipulated use of colours, including small adjustments in their properties, can cause a quick shift
from one semiotic purpose to another. In the following discussions I have chosen to fully embrace
this uncontrollable nature of colours by insisting to open up the debate as much as possible, instead
of trying to control and confine them to apply onto fixed interpretations. This is, in my opinion, a
necessary premise for working with colours if a successful interpretation of their original functions
and purposes is to be achieved.
181
CHAPTER 7
The semiotic, supra-semiotic and post-semiotic purposes of the painted
portraits
C7.1: Colour-coding identities within the Room of Fundilia
Appendix 3 establishes the context of the portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia. Whether
the room beneath the portico was their primary, secondary or tertiary context is irrelevant to the
following discussion, what is important is that the portraits, at least at some point, where joined
within the room to be experienced as a group.
In her monograph from 2008 Jane Fejfer points out how the different styles of execution of the
portraits from the Room of Fundilia reveal a clever stylistic scheme drawing upon elements from
both past and present: the late Republican nodus coiffure – perhaps combined with an inserted
tutulus, described by Varro as reserved for the matres familia – worn by the portrait statue of
Fundilia would in the middle of the first century CE, most likely, have been considered very
traditional, when compared to the voluminous and artistic curled hair worn by the portraits of
Quinta and the unidentified young woman.810 Such stylistic executions communicated particular
aspects of important social identities on behalf of the sitters of the portraits, which were
accompanied and accentuated by their painted finish. Had the portraits been separated and their
context not known, such information would never have been a part of their interpretation.811
The following sub-section will discuss the painted polychromy of each piece originating from the
Room of Fundilia, according to the relationships between the persons portrayed and their identities.
The dissertation will propose that the colours chosen for the individual portrait sculptures were
colour-coded to establish collective as well as individual identities. By doing so, the dissertation
will explore how the colours added an important dimension to the complex visual communication,
which the marble portraits were produced to mediate.
810
811
Fejfer 2008, 305, Marlow 2013, 97.
Marlow 2013, 98.
182
Painting the Roman citizen: colour-coding Roman cultural identities?
Although the remains from the original polychromy on the male portraits from the Room of
Fundilia (the statue of Fundilius, the bust of Rufus, Capito and the man wearing the wreath) are
badly preserved, results from examinations suggest that the hair on all three portraits were provided
with paint mixtures repeating similar hues of red, reddish brown and brown (fig. B:81, B:82, B:83
and B:84). However sparse the paint remains may be, the constant repeating of the same pigments
forming paint layers of similar tonal values suggests that all three male portraits were painted with
similar hair colours ranging in hue from red/reddish-brown to brown. The same combinations of
pigments were also used for the hair on the three portraits of the young Maximus from Case Study
2b, dating to the early third century CE. And on the portrait of Caligula (fig. B:80) extensive
remains of reddish/brown paint are still visible to the naked eye (fig. B:119 and B:120).
Furthermore a combination of brown ochre pigments has also been documented in the hair of a
portrait of Augustus on the Prima Porta statue (fig. 0:1, 0:2 and 0:4).812 The brown hair on the
reconstructed portrait of Augustus may be supported by Suetonius who notes that Augustus’s hair
colour bordered on blond (subflauus).813
The similar colour-coded hair on the male portraits appears to have secured a certain level of
collective recognisability testifying to a colour-coded shared identity. The three male portraits from
the Room of Fundilia represent different political and social figures from their local community: an
Apollinis Parasitus and freedman (Fundilius), a quaestor from the nearby city Arricia (Rufus), and a
rhetor (Capito). The only identity which would apply collectively to all three men, as well as to the
portraits of the Emperors Augustus and Caligula and the crown prince Maximus, is their cultural
identity as Roman citizens. The different nuances of reddish/brown and brown hair on the male
portraits – dating to the first and the third centuries CE – thereby raises the question of whether or
not such nuances were originally applied to be perceived as a colour-code making the individual
Roman citizens collectively recognisable as gens romana: a colour-coded stereotypic reproduction
of Roman ethnicity.
Using archaeological evidence to identify ethno-racial identities in the Roman Empire is, however,
a difficult task.814 The Romans did most likely not differentiate between race and ethnicity as we do
812
Liverani 2004, 130; Bradley 2009A, 447-450.
Suet. Aug. 79. Bradley 2009A, 449.
814
In her article from 2011 Bartman puts forth that using white marble portraiture to convey ethnic and cultural markers
is possible: ‘As assertive as ethnic features were for the portrait subject in real life, they became all the more so in the
813
183
today.815 Today we separate ethnicity (a sense of ‘peoplehood’) from race, meaning that people can
share the same biological colours without being born the same place.816 For example: being a Dane
is my ethnic and cultural identity as I share Danish history, language and customs, but my race,
Caucasian, blond and blue eyed, is not considered exclusively Danish. Most would, however,
recognise my race as closely related to my ethnic origins as fair skin, blond hair and blue eyes are
features associated with Scandinavian countries. But you would also encounter such features in
other parts of the world, making my biological colours stereotypically but not exclusively Danish.
Defining the cultural identity of an individual from collective racial and ethnographic colour
categorizations was most likely commonly practiced in the greater cities of the Roman Empire,
above all Rome herself which hosted a variety of different biological colours.817 Unlike today when
we largely avoid associating ethno-racial markers with cultural identities, because we are concerned
that such markers also bear negative connotations, in the Roman Empire they were used as semiotic
markers to communicate relevant aspects of the identity of the persons portrayed.
However, the Roman written sources are not explicit when describing the colours that were
considered particularly ‘Roman’. Ovid lists many natural (feminine) colours of both skin and hair
which he finds attractive in his Amores from 16 BCE, including fair-skinned (candida), blond
(flaua), swarthy (fuscus color), dark (pulli) locks, snow-white (niuea) skin, black (nigra) hair and
saffron locks (crocei capilli), stating that he could love all women despite their diverse chromatic
appearances.818 In Natural History Pliny the Elder often refers to the cultural origin of indigenous
people of the Mediterranean cultures by describing the natural colours of their skin and hair.819
Vitruvius explains such differences in natural colours as geographically defined by highlighting the
effects of changing climates (cited on p. 136).820
It should be emphasised that such written testimonies represent primarily the views of upper-class
Roman citizens and should not be taken as neither general nor static viewpoints.821 The written
sources do, however, reflect a certain general assumption that the natural colours of a person
mirrored his or her ethno-racial identity, which could be used to distinguish the individual from the
portrait context.’ She does, however, leave out the fact that all portraits were originally more or less polychrome. See
Bartman 2011, 222-254.
815
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 15; Bradley 2009, 37-150; Bartmann 2011, 223; Kennedy, Roy and Goldman 2013, xiv.
816
Bartman 2011, 223.
817
Bradley 2009, 138: Boatwright 2012, 19-25.
818
Ov.Am. 2.4.37-44. (Translation: Bradley 2009B, 138.)
819
Plin.HN, 4.88: ‘After Taphrae, the interior of the mainland is occupied by the Auchetai and the Neuroi (…) and
Agathyrsi, the last a dark-haired people (…)’.
820
Vitr.De arch, 6.1.3-4.
821
Boatwright 2012, 193-194. See also the Introduction, p. 34.
184
collective and to judge the character of a given person.822 The Roman rhetorical use of an ethnoracial colour vocabulary reflects complex ascending scales of different somatic colours. 823 The
natural colours of the described ethnic groups are primarily emphasised by comparing them to ‘an
intermediate Roman color’.824 Although the concept of a (more or less) uniform ‘Roman’ colour
therefore existed it is not described explicitly in the written sources but merely highlighted
according to what it is not. Apparently, looking ‘Roman’ was not looking out of place.825
The need for ‘not looking out of place’ in painted portraiture of Roman citizens may reflect what
Wallace-Hadrill terms the ‘Cultural Revolution’, which Rome and Italy underwent in the first
centuries BCE and CE, and which was discussed in A3.1.826 By the end of the reign of Augustus the
number of Roman citizens in Italy had doubled five or six times according to the second century
BCE, causing a social and cultural transformation of identities, which ultimately completely
changed the nature of Roman citizenship.827 In particular the social transformation caused by the
rise of Roman freedmen in the first centuries BCE and CE (well-attested for in areas of the Bay of
Naples) brought with it a cultural and therefore also visual language evolving around assertion of
status.828
As discussed in Chapter 3 defining what constituted being a Roman was no longer exclusively
monopolized by the Roman elitist nobility by the middle of the first century CE. The nobility of
Rome greatly opposed to the use of (painted) white and coloured imported stones on grounds of
morality (if we are to believe Pliny the Elder). Despite of the outraged Pliny the growing body of
Roman citizens consumed more ferociously, than the former Roman Republican nobility, and
demanded certain luxury items including painted marble portraiture. While the Roman nobility in
the Republican periods defined the materials used for portraiture, which included wax and bronze
(and presumably also terracotta and limestone), it was the materials internalized by the increasingly
wealthy ‘middle classes’ of the first century CE which came to dominate the contexts of the
centuries CE. Defining what a Roman looked like was therefore being affected by the large number
Some colour-related physiological stereotypes and categorizations seem to have been fairly consistent during the
Roman Empire, Isaac 2004, 6 and 493-500. See also Boatwright 2012. Furthermore the individual physiological colours
of a person, such as those produced by the ability to blush, as Bradley argues, were considered important tell-tale signs
of a person’s character. Bradley 2009, 150-160; Bradley forthcoming, 14.
823
Bradley 2009B, 141.
824
Bradley 2009B, 141.
825
Bradley 2009B, 141.
826
Wallace-Hadrill 2008.
827
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 444.
828
Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 37,
822
185
of commissioned painted marble portrait sculptures of this Roman ‘middle class’, which also
consisted of freed slaves such as Fundilius, and which were executed and put on display in most
contexts of Rome and Italy in this period.
When painting the white marble portraits depicting Roman citizens in the middle of the first century
CE, the craftsmen, commissioner and/or sitter of the portraits would have made sure to colour-code
any important semiotic markers supporting desired cultural and social identities, and which would
have been in correspondence with how a Roman viewer would read its visual purpose.829 Within the
Room of Fundilia the male portraits had their Roman identity put up front: the statue of the
freedman Fundilius in particular wearing a toga (debated in detail below). But in the cases of the
herm portraits their abbreviated body formats limited the level of communication, making the
sculpted style and, in particular, the colour of their hair the main semiotic vehicle to communicate
their ethno-racial defined social identities. Through manipulation of the hair colours the herm
portraits were thereby able to exercise the same basic agencies as the full portrait statue.
The colour-codes did therefore not only ensure a visual collective recognisability of specific
identities (in this case the Roman citizenship), they also ensured that the marble portraits were able
to communicate such identities on the same level despite their different body formats and sculpted
hair styles. As such, the colour-codes on the male portraits transcended both body formats as well as
the sculpted stylistic form. Although the male citizens within the Room of Fundilia were given
different variations of cropped hair styles the colours were coded to make the individual
representations somewhat generic as well, ensuring that the individual Roman citizen did not
visually appear as ‘out of place’ but conformed to the mass of stereotypically recognizable citizens
as well. The similar artistic use of paint mixtures, providing hues which gravitated towards red,
reddish-brown and brown to colour the sculpted hair on the portraits, therefore appear to reflect a
similar “intermediate Roman color” as what can be seen in the rhetorical use of ethno-racial colour
markers.830 The semiotic purpose of such colour-codes was to establish an illusion of optical
coherency at the first visual encounter between portrait and viewer.
Ensuring visual coherency through colour-coded hair, did, however, not obscure the individual.
Although the painted hair on the male portraits from the Room of Fundilia was given similar
‘In a sense the ethnicity to which a portrait bears witness has been ratified twice: first by the sitter who opts to look a
certain way; and second by the portrait artist (no doubt working in conjunction with the sitter or his or hers intimates)
who records that look.’ Bartman 2011, 223.
830
Bradley 2009B, 141.
829
186
colour-codes, they were also individually painted as well. The hair on the portrait heads of
Fundilius and Rufus were painted with similar reddish-brown hues, while the hair of Capito was
given a more reddish nuance. The brightness of the paint mixture may also have evoked a certain
element of luxury (fig. B:81), causing the portrait of the Rhetor to slightly separate itself visually
from the other portraits within the Room. This individualized material luxury was further supported
by the blue paint used to highlight the letters of the inscription on his herm shaft which was – most
likely – made from using expensive and saturated, bright azurite pigments. I will return to this
discussion in more detail below when exploring how the colour applied onto the sculpted portraits
was coded to switch between the poles of the individual and the generic. But first I will attend to the
semiotic purposes of the painted colour-codes on the female portraits from the Room of Fundilia.
Colour-coding Roman female cultus
While the hair of the male portraits within the Room of Fundilia was coded to visually appear as
generic at first encounter with the viewer, the female portraits represented a more diverse
colouration of both hair and garments. The two mature portraits of Fundilia, depicted as a mature
woman including both a statue clad in brightly painted palla, violet stola and a tunica (fig. B:118,
B:119), and a herm, clad in a reddish/brown mantle and belted, brown tunica (fig. B:120), were
given the same dark brown/blackish hair colours (fig. B:86). The portrait of Chrysarion, also
portrayed as a mature woman, was given – what appears to have been – a similar dark hair colour
(fig. B:85 and B:86). But the portraits of Quinta and the young, unidentified woman, both portrayed
with elaborately curled coiffures, were given yellowish/’blond’ and reddish/’blond’ hair colours
(fig. B:87 and B:88). Both young women were portrayed wearing tunica’s, which were painted in a
pale shade of red and blue (consisting of thinly applied paint layers, incorporating the white marble
underneath) (fig. B:122 and B:123).
Compared to the male portraits the female portraits were therefore diversely painted. The sculpted
and brightly painted hair of the two young women were, in particular, meant to catch the eye of the
viewer who entered, separating them from the dull colours of the mature Fundilia and Chrysarion.
The palla of the statue of Fundilia was, on the other hand, given a vivid colouration unparalleled by
any other portrait sculpture within the room. Also, the herm of Fundilia was the only herm within
the room given sculpted and painted clothes, separating it from the rest of the herm portraits which
187
were provided with rectangular non-sculpted shafts of an unpainted dark, bluish-grey marble stone
with visible white veins.
The female portraits within the Room of Fundilia were meant to be seen. This statement does not
suggest that the male portraits were meant to fade into the background (the toga of the statue of
Fundilius and the bright red hair of Capito were definitely also executed to catch the eye of the
viewer), it suggests that the male portraits were apparently not colour-coded to be as diverse nor as
colourful as the female portraits.
Written sources note that a certain visual appearance was expected from the Roman woman during
the Late Republic and early Empire. Pliny the Younger writes of the daughter of Quintilinanus who
was to marry the notable Nonius Celer ‘(...) on whom the reason of public duties force a certain
amount of style, she ought to be provided with clothes and attendants in keeping with her husband’s
position, by which things dignitas cannot grow, but can be adorned and fitted out.’831 Using
extensive resources to adorn the Roman women is in particular highlighted by Plautus, who writes
in the early second century BCE. In his satirical play the character Megadorus is reflecting on how
much money the Roman wife costs by listing the many tradesmen who provided the effects for the
comprehensive, visual enhancements of the matronae.832 Although the reflections of Megadorus are
satirical in nature, and therefore most likely exaggerated, they indicate that the grooming of the
well-married Roman matrona could be quite extensive.833 Ovid also describes the extent to which
the Roman women adorned and groomed themselves, the art of cultus, and how such practices
might even obscure their natural appearances and fool the male viewer into thinking more of them:
‘We are carried away by the art of adornment (cultus); everything is covered by gems and gold: the
real girl is the least bit of herself. (…) So when she is smearing all those concocted poisons on her
face, go right up to your mistress’ face. You will find pots of make-up and stuff in a thousand
colours, and lanoline grease that has melted and run into her sweaty cleavage (…).’834
Pliny, Plautus and Ovid all highlight grooming and adorning, cultus, as an aspect of the Roman
female visual appearances – in particular of the Roman matrona who was the wife and mother of
the Roman citizen. The natural physical appearances of Roman women were meant to be seen and
as such it was expected from them to improve their natural physical appearances through cultus on a
831
Plin.Ep. 6.32, (translation: Olson 2008, 97).
Plaut.Aul.3.5.
833
On how to translate the list of Megadorus, see: Olson 2008, 97, note 2.
834
Ov. Rem. Am. 343-356, (translated by Bradley 2009B, 162).
832
188
daily level.835 Cultus seems therefore to have been an important signifier of beauty in Roman
society. The beauty of a woman and her moral character and social worth was evaluated on her
ability to take care of and attend to her physical appearances and presenting herself correctly. 836
Cultus must therefore have been an equally important polychrome feature in Roman female
portraiture.837 In order to present the portrayed women as good and moral Roman women according
to what the viewer would have expected and been able to recognize, cultus was essential to include
and enhance through sculpted form and applied colour effects. The white marble portraits offered a
‘clean slate’ which the natural body of the real life women did not, and thereby the opportunity to
perform a complete, artificially re-imagination of the female body.838 This would have included
painting the portraits with the ‘right’ skin tones (without discolouration’s and perhaps of a certain
nuance; compare fig. B:93 to B:106)) and conventionalized hair and garments which suited the
social standings of the woman portrayed.
Colour-coding Roman female social identities: setting the stage for the visual encounter
The importance of cultus explains to some extent the colourful diversity which the original
polychromies of the female portraits from the Room of Fundilia were meant to evoke. Each
portrayed woman represented different social positions: Fundilia, the Roman matrona; and
Chrysarion and Quinta, the freedwomen. Their individualized versions of female cultus were
reproduced differently through marble and paint in order to adjust the different female beauty ideals
which the portrayals sought to mediate. But they also reflected on the individual social identities of
the female sitters of the portraits and perhaps on certain social values associated with Roman female
age differentiations as well.
Clad in tunica, stola and palla, painted in different nuances of purple and brightly decorated with
blue (and yellow), the statue of Fundilia was instantly visually separated from the other portraits
within the room, and identified as a woman belonging to the Roman elite. The fashion of the nodus
hair-style, which originally included what appears to have been a sculpted and inserted tutulus,
Bradley 2009, 163. On Roman female cultus: D’Ambra 2000, 101-114; Fejfer 2008, 352-353; Olson 2008, 106-112;
Bradley 2014, 196-199.
836
D’Ambra 2014, 167.
837
On the role of cultus in female portraits, see Fejfer 2008, 352. See also D’Ambra 2014, 169-171.
838
Much like what the written sources were able to do, see Bradley 2009B, 163.
835
189
evoked a coiffure that was in fashion during the late Republican periods.839 She was clad in the
traditional stola and palla, in a fashion more concealed by the garments than any other female
portrait statue wearing similar ‘costumes’.840
The polychromy of the garments seems to have been traditional as well. The use of a violet colour
on the stola, made from mixing Egyptian blue with a bright red/pinkish pigment, can be traced back
to the Hellenistic periods, and appears to have been a traditional way of colouring extravagant
female garments (p. 137).841 Furthermore the tradition of providing female sculptural garments –in
particular large mantels – with lavish decorative patterns can be traced back to archaic Greek
cultures.842 Covering most of the statuary body, the lavish decoration of the palla was
correspondingly given the most elaborately painted finish and colour-coded to evoke luxury. The
portrait statue of Fundilia did therefore not only incorporated a certain level of female cultus
adjusted to her position as matrona, but also an element of traditional luxury adjusted to her social
position as patrona of Fundilius. Fundilia may have been an elderly woman at the time when the
portrait was produced in the mid first century CE, and the colour-coded painted finish of the palla
may have sought to evoke this; like the sculpted tutulus coiffure which was in style long before the
sculpture was executed in the mid first century CE.
Portrayed at least twice in both statue and herm format (maybe thrice according to the excavation
reports by Lord Savile Lumley from 1885/6, see Appendix 3) in statue and herm format – both
dressed and colour-coded) the portraits of Fundilia claimed a strong presence within the room.
Valerius Maximus (early first century CE) describes how a path was cleared, when the Roman
matrona entered the public streets suggesting that the matrona was made physically present in
Roman society.843 Placed beside the statue of Fundilius the statue of Fundilia received a prominent
place within the room. Being portrayed more than once in both statue and herm format the portraits
of Fundilia surpassed all the other portraits put on display within the room in physical presence, as
was the right of a Roman matrona who also enjoyed a certain social status as patrona.
The portrait of Chrysarion depicts a mature woman with braided hair which was originally given a
dull colour similar to that on the portraits of Fundilia (fig: B:85). Unfortunately the abbreviated
839
Fejfer 2008, 305; Marlowe 2013, 97.
Fejfer forthcoming.
841
Brinkmann 2009, 200-202; Bourgeoise and Jockey 2010, 230-231; Blume 2010, 250; Jockey 2014, 114, fig. 4a;
Blume 2014. The symbolic value of mixing Egyptian blue and madder lake as pigment-based imitations of the
expensive purpura dye will be discussed in detail below in Chapter 9.
842
Koch-Brinkmann, Piening and Brinkmann 2014, 116-135.
843
Val. Max. 5.2.1. Olson 2008, 97.
840
190
herm format of the portrait of Chrysarion does not include clothing, which could have revealed
more about her social identity. But perhaps the hair was colour-coded and accordingly functioning
as a semiotic marker for the social identity of Chrysarion. By sharing the same nuances of hair
colour with the portraits of Fundilia, the portrait of Chrysarion either belonged to, or aspired
towards, the same social sphere as that of Fundilia. The dull hair colour of Chrysarion provided the
portrait with a noble and modest expression corresponding to her discrete and non-voluminous
sculpted coiffure and mature age, perhaps evoking a certain aspect of cultus ideally associated with
the social identity of the Roman matrona. If so, the colour-code ensured that the visual language of
the herm was equally as expressive as the communicative effects of a statue, which was also the
case with the male portraits discussed above.
Although claiming a strong presence Fundilia was not the only individual who was portrayed and
put on display within the room more than once. Records from the excavations conducted by Lord
Savile Lumley inform us that a second herm was found (missing its portrait) bearing an inscription
to Staia Quinta suggesting that the freedwoman was also portrayed more than once (see fig.
B:13).844
The portrait of Quinta (and the young, unidentified woman as well) represent a different female
beauty ideal, a different version of cultus, than the portraits of Fundilia and Chrysarion. The style of
Quinta’s coiffure is so far unparalleled in Roman portraiture from the first century CE, and only a
few other female portraits from the first three centuries CE have been executed with the same
delicate attention to detail.845 The refined execution with chisel and light use of drill gives each curl
an individual shape providing the overall coiffure with the feel of artistically arranged, yet life-like
hair. And although the portrait was meant to be experienced from the front, the back has been
executed just as delicately: even the thin ribbon holding the braid together has been completed in
detail.
Aided by the blond, yellowish/red hair colours, the portrait of Quinta and the young woman
communicated a different ideal than the portraits of Chrysarion and Fundilia. Hair colours of blond
and reddish tonal values were coveted in the late Republican and early Imperial periods. Ovid lists
844
The herm is now lost. Records made by Lanciani (Lanciani 1885A, 479) mention that the herm was found in the socalled rooms 2-3 together with the herm shaft belonging to Chrysarion and the herm shaft belonging to Faenius Faustus
(Castle Museum, Nottingham, N 828). The rooms have never been re-discovered. At the time of their excavation the
rooms were neither described (Lanciani merely mentions the rooms had chiaroscuro mosaics) nor assigned a number or
a name, making them impossible to recognize. Guldager Bilde 97. For more on the excavation campaigns of the Room
of Fundilia, see Appendix 3.
845
Fejfer 2008, 303; Marlowe 2013, 28.
191
many different shades of female colours as ‘attractive’ in his Artis Amatoriae from ca. 16 BCE, but
he is particularly focused on a reddish/blond hair colour which could be obtained cosmetically.846
Martial also refers to the cosmetic uses of colours to promote female beauty, in particular red and
blond hair colours which could be obtained by dying the hair or by wearing wigs, which were either
purchased on the market or cut off a slave.847 The strikingly reddish/yellow hair on the portrait of
Quinta and the young woman may therefore be artistic re-imaginations of the coveted hair colours
referred to by Ovid and Martial, which accentuated and communicated their youth and beauty. This
may be further supported by results from examinations of ideal female heads representing
goddesses and Amazons which show an original colouration of their hair in hues of yellow and
reddish/yellow (see p. 134).848
Combining the elaborately sculpted and painted hair of Quinta with the revealing dress, the portrait
was meant to convey an aspect of Roman female cultus, which focused on an alluring and revealing
beauty ideal. The buttoned tunica was executed as a thin and delicate – perhaps even transparent –
textile: the buttons barely keep the garment together by the proper right shoulder and has slipped
down from the proper left, revealing the bare skin underneath. The spectator can only imagine how
the rest of the dress could fall down any minute. Contrasting the fully dressed and covered portraits
of Fundilia, the portrait of Quinta is much more revealing; almost promising to reveal more if the
spectator keeps watching.
The costume worn by Quinta is seen on other portraits depicting freedwomen from the first century
CE. On a relief portrait of Claudia Semne portrayed in bust format (fig. C:1), the freedwoman is
portrayed in bust format wearing a revealing, buttoned tunica which has slipped down the shoulder.
Her portrait is flanked by two erotes associating her with Venus.849 On another relief portrait dated
to early second century CE Orcivia Anthis is also portrayed in bust format and wearing a buttoned
tunica in the same fashion as the portraits of Quinta and Claudia Semne (fig. C:2).850 The bust
portrait of Orcivia is situated on the pediment of a funerary alter commemorating herself and her
husband, Statilius Aper. The portrait of Orcivia is framed by a sea-shell flanked by dolphins;
another artistic and creative way of associating the woman portrayed with Venus.
Ov. Ars. am. 2.4.37-44 and 3. 163-167. Mannsperger 1998, 25-28; Bartman 2001, 7-12; Bradley, 2009B, 174-178.
Mart. Ep. 14.26. Archaeological remains of real human hair has been found in Gaul (Les Martres-le-Veyre), Britania
(York) and Judaea (Masada), but in all cases the remains are too fragmented to reconstruct the original look of a Roman
wig.
848
Verri, Opper and Deviese 2010; Therkildsen 2012, 45-63 (See also http://www.trackingcolour.com/objects/106);
Verri, Opper and Lazzarini 2014.
849
Wrede 1971, 143-146; D’Ambra 1995, 222; Lo Monaco 2011, 347-348, fig. 9.
850
D’Ambra 2002, 234, fig. 6; Zanker and Fittschen 2014, 129, taf. 134.
846
847
192
Choosing Venus as a model for portraying women, in particular freedwomen, was common during
the first and the second centuries CE.851 The purpose of choosing Venus as a model for such female
portraits was to highlight their beauty and fertility which can be further supported by the brightly
painted hair of Quinta, resembling the painted hair of female ideal sculptures representing Amazons
and goddesses.852 The creative exploitation of Roman female cultus thereby also visually erased her
past as a slave and of non-Roman descent aligning her instead with conventional Roman ideals
celebrating her beauty and fertility.853
The colour-coded hair of the portrait from the Room of Fundilia constructed certain semiotic
readings separating not only men from the women but also the elderly from the young, subsequently
performing an important role of orchestrating and arranging the visual field of the viewer. By using
different hair colours to mark the specific groups of people portrayed, the viewer would have been
able to instantly recognize the communicative purposes of the portraits when entering the room. In
other words: the colour-codes set the stage of the visual encounter between sculpture and viewer.
Colour in context: colour-coded marble portraits as social agents
The portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia represent a broad spectrum of colour-codes. The
colour-coded hair and skin nuances of the portrayed individuals represented (and reproduced)
different stereotypic versions of Roman reality.854 The different uses of polychrome enhancements
were artistic reproductions of verbally recognisable biological features suggesting a creative
playfulness evolving around a certain Roman Weltanschauung.855
The colours were thereby constructed and reinforced by colour-preferences present in Roman
society: a construction that influenced the polychrome look of each marble portrait from the artistic
process of selecting the pigments and mixing the paint mixtures, to viewing and recognising them
within the context of the Room of Fundilia. Within this particular context the colour-codes aided the
Wrede 1971, 123-157; D’ambra 1996, 219-244; D’Ambra 2000, 101-112; D’Ambra 2002; Olson 2008, 106-112. On
the role which marriage and the task of bearing healthy children meant to the social identity of Roman women, see
Caldwell 2014.
852
One may speculate on the colour of Claudia Semne’s and Orcivia Anthis’ coiffures. Perhaps they were as brightly
painted as the hair on Staia Quinta?
853
D’Ambra 2013, 511-525; D’Ambra 2014, 173-174.
854
Bradley 2009A, 442.
855
Bradley 2009B, 141.
851
193
Roman viewer’s ability to organize his/hers visual field.856 The differently coloured hair (and skin),
garments, shoes, plinths, shafts and so on demanded a certain level of systematic, visual selection
and extraction from the viewer who entered, which primarily relied on the viewers ability to
recognize and remember from other painted portraits as well as real life.
The level of life-likeness which the portraits embodied is, however, yet to be defined. Modern
studies have proven that what human beings perceive as preferred skin colour(s) (varying in
nuances and shades) does not necessarily correspond to their actual real life skin colours.857 Several
psychophysical studies have shown that people typically rely on their own memory when they judge
the chrome of skin colours.858 Such colour preferences seem to have been present in Roman society
as well, meaning that the perception of colour was then, as well as now, defined by their societal
frames of reference (this will be discussed in Chapter 9). The portraits from the Room of Fundilia
may therefore have aspired towards a certain life-likeness: not a photo-realistic one but a
recognisable ideal (I shall return to debate this in detail in Chapter 8).
The painted portraits from Case Study 1 communicated social identities and functioned as media of
agencies on behalf of sitters, craftsmen and commissioners. When entering the Room of Fundilia
the Roman viewers interacted with the painted portraits by exerting their own agency initialized and
evoked by the complex systems of visual manipulations which each colour-coded marble portrait
embodied. As such the portraits functioned as social agents actively participating in inventing,
reproducing and sustaining Roman ideals and social relations.859 Each portrait sculpture was
produced from the minds of the Roman craftsmen, the commissioner and the sitters (if not the same
as the commissioner), and directed towards the mind of the viewer, and as such the visual
expressions of each portrait resonated with each other.860
C7.2: Colour-coding sculptural representations of Roman garments: the toga of
Fundilius
The portrait of Fundilius (fig. B:108) was the only male portrait from the Room of Fundilia that was
portrayed wearing clothes. In B4.3 the toga on the statue was reconstructed as a toga praetexta due
to the orange/red pigments found on the balteus, following the line of the sinus, on the lacinia
856
Rampley 2005, 533.
Zeng and Luo 2013.
858
Zeng and Luo 2013, 31.
859
Gell 1998, 5; Rampley 2005, 11.
860
Gell 1998, 221.
857
194
between the feet and on the back side of the statue as cohesive layers forming a line following the
draped garment. The following section discuss why Fundilius may have been portrayed wearing
such a toga and how sculpted and colour-coded replications of toga garments in sculptures were
used to communicate individual as well as collective identities.
The material and polychrome properties of Roman toga ‘fashion’
Knowledge of the visual appearances of real-life Roman toga garments comes from artistic
representations and written evidence as well as experimental reconstructions of how it was
produced and worn. There have been finds of fragments from mantles dating to the Roman Empire
but so far no toga fabrics have been securely identified, making research into its material properties
(fibres and colours) a field of inquiry which relies greatly on interdisciplinary studies. 861
The toga consisted of a large piece of textile which was draped around the body.862 The colour
properties most commonly associated with the different Roman toga types are: the pure white toga
(toga candida), the purple striped toga (toga praetexta), the purple coloured toga with golden
decoration (toga picta) and dark toga for mourning (toga pulla).863 However, little is known of the
fabrics used for creating the toga textiles (specifically the fibres they were made from) and how
they were dyed. It seems likely that the large fabric was made from woollen fibres which could be
processed and woven in numerous ways creating many different textural and visual appearances of
ranging qualities.864 Woollen fibres can be woven extremely fine or rather coarse and in many
different kinds of fabrics (for example twill).865 Wool can also take almost any dye, including the
coveted purpura dye originating from the mollusc snails (see p. 66-68): the dye that is traditionally
associated with the colours of the toga garments.866
Evidence as to how the toga was worn in real life comes mainly from written sources and artistic
representations. Unfortunately none of these sources reflect a Roman reality but rather different
artistically constructed versions thereof.867 However, when extracting information from both
sources we may be able to get an idea of how the toga was diversely fashioned in Roman cultures
and how such diversities would have been perceived.
861
Lovén 2014.
Goette 2013, 42, fig. 4 a-d.
863
Göette 1989, 4-5; George 2008, 94-95; Goette 2013, 47-48; Lovén 2014, 266-268.
864
Göette 1989, 2.
865
Harlow and Nosch 2014, 20.
866
Göette 1989, 4-5; Goette 2013, 47-49.
867
Harlow and Nosch 2014, 8-9; Lovén 2014, 261-262, 274-276.
862
195
Martial’s satirical descriptions of the toga include entries of the many different types of wool which
could be used for making the toga.868 He also mentions dyes, in particular those that could be used
to obtain certain brilliant types of white, testifying to an original use of not only several types of
fabrics for creating the Roman toga but also colourants.869 Based on the descriptions by Martial,
however satirical and exaggerated they may be, the real life toga seems to have had many different
visual appearances, some of them perceived as specifically related to social identities.
Such a reading of the toga may be supported by Cicero who uses the shade of purple on a client’s
toga as a way to describe how time will affect his state of mind: with age the ferocity of Marcus
Caelius will be toned down, along with his ‘purple robe’.870 The Younger Cato, described by
Plutarch as a man of morals who took it upon himself to oppose the changes of life and practice in
the late Republican periods, was outraged, ‘(...) when he saw that a purple, which was excessively
red and vivid, was much in vogue (...)’, and decided that ‘– (...) he himself would wear the dark
shade.’871
Besides the non-dyed effects of toga fabrics and their brilliantly white colours, the colour of the
toga is traditionally associated with purpura dye obtained from the mollusc snails. Garments dyed
with purpura were expensive and largely associated with social status and power during the Late
Republic and early Empire. Martial delivers a harsh critique of how much money people would
spend on purpura-dyed garments in the late Republic: ‘You shine in garments in scarlet or dyed
with purple and you think that thereby you cheat him; no cloak, Bassus, is worth 400.000.’872
‘Say, toga, welcome gift to me of my eloquent friend, of what flock wouldst thou be the fame and glory? Did the
Apulian herbage of Spartan Phelanthus flourish for thy sake, where Galaesus floods the Tilith with Calabrian waters?
Or did Tartessian Baetis, nurse of Hiberian flocks, wash thee too on the back of a Spanish sheep? Or has thy wool
counted the mouths of many-cleft Timavus, whereof trusty Cyllarus, now amid the stars, once drank? Thee it beseemed
not to darken with Spartan dye, nor was Miletus worthy to stain thy fleece. Lilies thou dost outshine, and private yet
unfallen, and the ivory gleams white on Tibur’s mount; Sparta’s swan shall yield to thee and Paphian doves, there shall
yield the pearl plucked out from Eastern shoals. Yet, albeit this gift vies with new fallen snow, ‘tis not more dazzling
white than Parthenius its giver. I could not prize proud Babylon’s painted tapestry embroidered by Semiramis’ needle;
no more should I admire myself in gold of Athamas, if thou, Phryxus, wert to give me the ram of Aeolus’ son. Oh, what
laughter will my worn cloak excite seen together with this toga from the Palatine.’ Mart.Ep. 8.28 (translated by Loeb
1920.)
869
Mart.Ep. 3.30, 5.22, 9.49. See George 2008, 99-103.
870
‘If, therefore, the energy, and fierceness, and pertinacity of Caelius appear to any one to have boiled over too much,
either in respect of his voluntary incurring, or of his mode of carrying on enmities; if even any of the most trifling
particulars of his conduct in this respect seem offensive to any one; or if any one feels displeased at the magnificence of
his purple robe, or at the troops and friends who escort him, or at the general splendor and brilliancy of his appearance,
let him recollect that all these things will soon pass away, - that a riper age, and circumstances, and the progress of time,
will soon have softened down all of them.’ Cic. Cael. 77 (Translated by C.D. Younge, 1891). See also Bradley 2009B,
197-201.
871
Plut. Cat.Min. 6.3. (translated by Capps, Page and Rouse, Loeb 1919) Bradley 2009B, 197.
872
Mart., Ep., book 5.23. Translation: Goldman 2013, 47.
868
196
Lucretius (c. 99-50 BCE) comments on the use of purpura dyed clothes in combination with gold as
something people in the late Republican periods invested too much time and effort in.873
Pliny the Elder noted that the reddish colour obtained by purpura dye was considered inferior to the
darker shades.874 Pliny also describes how the dye was diluted with water providing a less saturated
and undesirable colouration.875 Since Pliny’s account on the purpura dye conforms to his contempt
for the moral decline which he believed to observe in the Roman society of his own time, his
description of how the low saturated hues of purpura were obtained (the darker being the traditional
and ‘correct’ shade) reflects a moral detour which he (together with Cicero and Plutarch)
opposed.876 Despite this, the bright reddish purpura colours seem to have been in fashion during the
late Republic, to the benefit of the dyers who, according to Pliny, thereby saved money by using
diluted dye. Vutruvius also notes how the colour effects of purpura could be imitated by dyeing
chalk with madder and hysginum (see below).877
Finally it should be mentioned that other dyes which provided the garments with reddish, purple,
violet and bluish hues were also present in Roman society; some equally while others less
expensive than the dyes obtained from the mollusc snails.878 According to Pliny the Elder indigo
(indicum), a dye obtained from the indigo plants (Indigofera tinctoria) and which gave the fabric a
bluish/violet hue, was first imported ‘not long ago’ to Rome presumably meaning sometime during
the early first century CE.879 Both Pliny and Vitruvius note how indigo dyes were expensive and
rare and that their effects were therefore commonly imitated by mixing and manipulating the
properties of less expensive materials.880
Other dyes which provided colours spanning in hues of red and purple were madder lake and
hysginum. Madder lake is described in A1.3. It was extracted from plants naturally occurring in
many areas of the Mediterranean and was also used in pigment form for painting marble sculptures.
Hysginum was made from the eggs of the female insects of Kermococus vermilio living in Asia
Minor.881 Both madder lake and hysginum appears to have been less expensive colourants than the
873
Lucretius, 2.50-52. Goldman 2013, 40.
Plin., HN, 9.62.133-134.
875
Plin., HN, 9.64.138.
876
Bradley 2009B, 197.
877
Vitruvius, De Arch, 7.14.
878
Goldman 2013, 50-51.
879
Plin., HN, 33.163: ‘Not long ago Indian blue or indigo began to be imported, its price being 7 denarii; painters use it
for dividing lines, that is, for separating shadows from light.’ Sebesta 2001, 68-69.
880
Vitr., De Arch, 7.14.2
881
Sebesta 2001, 69.
874
197
above described dyes which provided the coveted hues of red and purple. The craftsmen producing
coloured fabrics knew how to manipulate the colour effects of the dyes to satisfy the high demand
for luxurious colour properties. If made from woollen fibres the toga garment could have been dyed
by all the colourants mentioned above suggesting that the tonal values of the garments may have
been diverse – perhaps mirroring the diversity expressed in the rhetorical descriptions of the colours
of the toga in the above listed written references?
Discussing Fundilius’ praetexta toga
According to written sources the toga praetexta was reserved for adolescent girls and boys and
Roman citizens who held public offices or high priesthoods.882 Although the praetexta
reconstruction of the toga on Fundilius seems reasonable when compared to the archaeological and
experimental material, it is debatable whether or not a former slave could be awarded such insignia
of power. Since the freedman Fundilius was neither an adolescent boy nor allowed to enter the
cursus honorum by Roman law883, the reasons for him being portrayed wearing the toga praetexta
must be explained otherwise.
Fundilius could have been a sevir augustalis, one of the few vehicles for freedmen to improve their
social identity, allowing him certain insignia of power such as the right to wear golden rings and to
be accompanied by lictors with fasces in public, and therefore, perhaps, also the right to wear a toga
praetexta.884 Unfortunately neither the inscription on the statue plinth nor on the book casket of the
statue mentions anything on Fundilius being a sevir augustalis. The statue (as well at the statue of
Fundilia) could originally have been placed on high bases which would have held further
Goette 1989, 4-5; Sebesta 2005, 113-120; Edmondson 2008, 28-29; Hackwort Petersen 2009, 200.
The Lex Visellia (passed during the reigns of Tiberius) explicitly prohibited former slaves from entering the cursus
honorum, unless they had been awarded the rights (ius anulorum aureorum) to wear gold rings (meaning the right to
enter the equestrian order without facing prosecution) by the Emperor. Mouritsen 2011, 73-74 and 248-249.
884
A special thanks to Henrik Mouritsen for bringing the seviri augustalis to my attention. The augustalis have
traditionally been associated with the Emperor Cult and worship, but epigraphic evidence dating to the middle and later
half of the first century CE mentions their engagement in various other municipal obligations, suggesting that the seviri
augustalis had many functions depending on their local community.They are primarily known by epigraphic evidence
from Italy (although not Rome). Over 2,500 inscriptions, primarily on statue bases, are registered from the times of
Augustus to the third century CE, and 85-95 % of them were dedicated by freedmen.
On the augustalis: Ostrow 1990, 364-380; Hope 2000, 138-146; Kleijtwegt 2001, 191-193; Mouritsen 2011, 250-261;
Mayer 2012, 108. On the praetexta toga of the seviri augustalis: Petronius, Satyricon, vol. 2, Cena Trimalchionis,
Chapter 29 and Chapter 71: ‘I want you to carve ships under full sail on my monument, and me, in my robes of office
(praetexta toga?), sitting on my tribunal, five gold rings on my fingers, pouring out coin from a sack for the people
(…).’ Taylor 1914, 231.
882
883
198
inscriptions mentioning their official titles. However, since the bases are lost to us, identifying
Fundilius as a sevir augustalis remains speculative.
Another possible explanation for the praetexta toga type relates to the profession of Fundilius as an
Apollinis Parasitus. By wearing a toga praetexta Fundilius could have been portrayed as an actor
engaged with playing a role in a fabula praetexta. The fabula praetexta was a Roman form a drama
in which Roman magistrates were the main protagonists (hence the name of the genre).885 If
portrayed as such Fundilius did not cross any unwritten laws of appropriate use of dress, he merely
played around with the lines of what was an acceptable dress for a freedman.
Discussing why the freedman Fundilius was portrayed wearing a toga praetexta raises the question
of how closely related the costume of the portrait statue was to what was worn by the sitter of the
portrait in real life. Archaeological and written evidence show that freedmen all over the Empire
were regularly portrayed with insignia of power above – or different from – what was accepted for
them to wear by the Roman aristocracy.886 On the altar of the Vicus Aesculeti, dedicated in 2 CE,
four vicomagistri are depicted conducting a sacrifice in the honour of the Emperor escorted by
flute-players and lictors carrying fasces (fig. C:3).887 On the inscription below the relief two of the
four vicomagistri, who are wearing their togas capite velato in combination with laurel wreaths, are
identified as libertini. As it was forbidden by law for former slaves to hold any public offices or
higher priesthoods, the former slaves are portrayed with insignia of power representing a social
status above what would have been acceptable for them to hold – at least in the eyes of the Roman
elite.
The praetexta costume on the statue of Fundilius could therefore be regarded as in correspondence
with the use of power insignia in freedmen portrait art during the first century CE. The nature of
self-display observable in freedmen art in the first century CE indicates that the freedmen either did
not care about the opinions of the aristocracy in Rome, or that they were not aware of them.888
Although the written sources would have us believe otherwise status alone did most likely not
885
Manuwald 2011, 140.
D’Arms 1981, 121-148; Ostrow 1990, 16-17; Hope 2000, 145; Hackworth Petersen 2009, 181-214; Mayer 2012,
130-142.
887
Hackworth Petersen 2009, 198-199.
888
Scholars have traditionally approached freedmen art from a Roman elite’s point of view. They have assumed (largely
influenced by written fictional stories such as Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis), that Roman freedmen art was almost
obsessively aspiring towards elite luxury lifestyles. See Zanker 1975, 150-162; Whitehead 1993, 299-325; WallaceHadrill 1994 ‘(…) extend yet further Zanker’s model’, 141-174. But, as Mayer argues, how aware could the
proportionally much larger social group of freedmen from all over the Empire be of the lifestyles of a much smaller
group of rich elites in Rome; how many of them had experienced it first hand? Very few, if any. Although the artistic
and iconographic repertoire was the same to the elite as it was to the former slaves, it was used differently by the
freedmen. Mayer 2012, 100-104. See also D’Ambra 1995, 223; Mouritsen 2011, 281-283; Boatwright 2012, 26-27.
886
199
determine who were allowed to wear which garment: economics also played a crucial role. Those
who could afford it could be portrayed in a high quality statue wearing a praetexta toga.889 What is
relevant to our understanding of the portrait statue of Fundilius is therefore not the question of
whether he may or may not have worn the praetexta in real life, but the fact that he was portrayed
wearing one. The toga on the statue is a representation of a toga, affected by the agencies of artist,
commissioner, sitter and expectations of the viewer.890 It communicated the social identity of
Fundilius as Roman citizen in generic terms. But with the painted finish, the toga also
communicated a certain level of individuality which reflected on the identity of Fundilius himself as
well as how the toga garment was meant to be recognized.
Artistic representations of the Roman toga: sculpting and painting
The overall form of sculptural representations of the toga-clad male body were surprisingly generic
during the first two centuries CE: the arrangement of the drapery changed but the representations
always ensured that the most important features would be recognised by the viewer including umbo,
balteus, sinus and lacinia.891 The toga remained recognisable despite chronology and geography,
which testifies to its symbolic value as a cultural and social marker in portrait sculptures.892 This
has led scholars to conclude that – unlike the head – the toga-clad body format served primarily to
mark the identity of its sitter in generic terms.893 However, when taking a closer look at the sculpted
details the picture becomes more complex.
On the plinth belonging to the statue of Fundilius, what has been interpreted as a ribbon, originating
from a – now lost – book scroll, which Fundilius may have held in his hands, is seen lying close to
Fejfer 2008, 304-305; Hackworth Petersen 2009, 202-205.
Vout 1996, 206-208.
891
The sculptural representations of the toga did not change much from the late first century BCE to the end of the
second century CE. But in the late second century the contabulated toga was introduced (perhaps originating from
Egypt), which offered a new arrangement of the folds on the upper torso. The reasons for the appearance of the
contabulated (or stacked or banded) toga has been much debated amongst scholars. It has been suggested that the
symbolic value of the toga became gradually devaluated as Roman citizenship was widely granted throughout the
empire. The contabulated toga may therefore have been worn more restrictively than the traditional toga, rendering it a
more desirable insignia when making portrait statues. Fejfer 2008, 190-193. See also Koortbojian 2008: 80.
892
Vout 1996; 213-216; Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 41-45; Koortbojian 2008, 73-87.
893
On the portrait body format vs. the head: ‘There is usually nothing about the body or pose that specifies the identity
of the portrait subject in anything other than generic terms: it is the head which is, so to speak, tailor-made, just as the
portrait faces on ‘mass-produced’ sarcophagi were often left to be filled in later.’, Stewart 2003, 47;Hallett 2005, 289295; Edmondson 2008, 38;’(…) statuary bodies were, in contrast to the head proper, not intended to distinguish one
individual from another.’ Fejfer 2008, 182; ‘(…) the only part of the statue that was not ‘generic’ was the portrait-head.
It was thus also the only part that could carry more specific messages. The bodies, by contrast, were interchangeable.’
Zanker 2008, 71; ‘Head and body played two very different roles, but both were essential. The head pinpointed which
man was portrayed; the body described who he was in social and symbolic terms.’ Trimble 2011, 151-152.
889
890
200
where the folds of the lacinia touches the plinth (fig. B:21).894 Although the interpretation for the
somewhat oddly placed detail seems reasonable due to the capsa placed by the proper left foot (a
container for book scrolls) there could perhaps be another explanation.895 Occurring as an extension
of the edge of the toga garment down by the feet, the detail may be an imitation of a tassel, a
naturally occurring phenomenon from woven woollen fabrics which can be seen on a preserved
piece of woollen textile from Tell Atrib, Egypt (fig. C:4).896 Once the weaving had been completed,
the remaining ends of the fabric would be tied up in a number of ways (fig. C:5).897 It seems that the
Roman sculptor put some effort into conveying the broad spectrum of different ways of tying up the
weaved ends. Such differences in sculpted details added an element of individuality to the sculpted
body formats.
That the sculptural body of the portrait of Fundilius sought to convey individuality may be further
supported by the paint remains. When compared to the three other toga-clad portrait statues, which
have been examined for traces of original paint (fig. B:111, B:112, B:113-B:116), it becomes
apparent that none of the four sculptural toga representations were painted alike. The statue of
Caligula from Richmond has small remains of a violet paint mixture preserved in areas of the toga
garment (fig. B:115).898 The toga of the unidentified, headless male togatus from Formia is almost
completely covered by well-preserved, extensive remains of a reddish/orange paint mixture still
visible to the naked eye.899 And the unidentified togatus from Tarragona has a well-preserved
reddish paint layer applied on top of a white ground and covering the majority of the surface of the
toga.900 Although it remains unclear how the original colouration of these toga representations
should be reconstructed, their diverse display of remaining colours testifies to a level of
individuality, adding versatility to the otherwise generic visual expressions of the sculptural form.
The post-semiotic garment
But how were such individual colour-codings recognized and understood by the Roman viewer? If
the toga was altered and adjusted from wearer to wearer, how was it at the same time universally
recognized as the same garment? In 2012 Miller and Woodward published the results from a broad
894
Fejfer 2008, 285.
I owe this observation to Berit Hildebrandt.
896
Granger-Taylor 1987, 114-115.
897
Granger-Taylor 1987, 115.
898
Abbe 2013.
899
Liverani 2014, 22-26, fig. 23-26.
900
Liverani 2009, 389; Liverani 2014, 22-26, fig. 19-22.
895
201
survey that they had done on jeans in a North London neighbourhood.901 Jeans are trousers made
from denim fabric, and although jeans are a generic term with which most people are acquainted
(some might even associate them specifically with America), jeans are also a highly diverse
clothing item which can be altered and adapted to almost all social settings and identities. By
interviewing several people, both male and female and of all ages and ethnicities, Miller and
Woodward concluded, that jeans were both ordinary and used by its wearer to fit in, and highly
versatile and used to convey individual identities by changing meanings between contexts.902
By drawing this parallel I do not seek to suggest that jeans are the modern equivalent of the Roman
toga, because that would be pushing the argument too far. Miller and Woodward explore the results
from their survey according to how jeans are considered an ordinary mode of dressing, but the
Roman toga was far from ordinary Roman attire. By using the studies by Miller and Woodward, I
seek to examine the motives for wearing – or to be portrayed wearing – the toga in Roman times by
exploring how the toga was constructed and recognized within Roman society. Based on the
archaeological and literary sources modern scholars have traditionally concluded that the Roman
toga was mainly a way of signalling social and cultural status in generic terms; namely Roman
citizenship.903 Miller and Woodward recognize, that such semiotic approaches apply well to
clothing but also state that semiotics fail to recognize the materiality of clothing, or what they term
the “post-semiotic garment”, referring to the many layers of meaning which certain garments in
fashion spanning decades (such as jeans and the toga) accumulate over time.904
Being worn by several generations of Roman citizens and changing style over the years, the toga
would have accumulated many different layers of meaning which would – in particular – have been
conveyed through individual decorative elements and colour-codes. Although Roman social identity
may have been its prime semiotic marker (when worn by adult males)905, the toga also accumulated
other markers as well which were negotiable and changing over time and which could be adjusted
according to certain social contexts as already debated above. As the basic sculpted shape of the
toga was largely generic, the distinguishing post-semiotic details/traits would have been in the
sculpted and painted subtleties. Within large sculptural displays the individual details highlighted in
paint could have been used as an effective tool to switch between different social codes, thereby
901
Miller and Woodward 2012.
Miller and Woodward 2012, 61-64.
903
Vout 1996; Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 41-45; Koortbojian 2008, 73-87; George 2008; ‘(…) the toga (as well as other
forms of dress) should be read as a silent but explicit conversation in which each negotiated his own position in Roman
society.’ Rothfus 2010, 426.
904
Miller and Woodward 2012, 89-91. On the semiotics of clothing see Barthes, 1967.
905
On the toga worn by prostitutes see Olson 2008, 47-51.
902
202
also constructing different semiotic readings. This complex language in the visual arts was
furthermore being constructed by and constructing the rhetorical, written as well as all-fashion
references to the toga garment. All versions representing an ‘idea’ if the iconic Roman dress were
united within the same macroscopic material culture of production and consumption, which was
constantly being negotiated and redefined as the cultural and social frames surrounding it changed
over time.
Colour-coding sculptural representations of the Roman toga: a post-semiotic meaning of certain
painted colours?
Keeping in mind that the toga fabric could be made from different textiles, including many varieties
of woollen fibres, and coloured with different dyes which would alter its visual appearance
substantially, the following section will discuss the semiotic purpose of the painted reddish/orange
colour preserved on the toga of Fundilius. This is done by assuming that the portrait sculpture
sought to imitate the colour effects of fabrics dyed with the expensive purpura dye obtained from
the mollusc snails.
The chromatic identity of the purpura dye widely ranged from green, red, purple, violet to dark and
almost black. Modern experimental reconstructions of the process have shown that this range of
colour properties is defined by the complex process of producing the dye, as well as the manner of
fabric for which it is used, and even the process of how the fabric is dyed.906
Written testimonies from the first century CE suggests that wearing purpura dyed garments
(referring both to the dye produced from the sea snails but also other presumably equally expensive
dyes such as the amethystina purpurea) had become something everyone wanted to wear.907 The
luxury dyes were therefore increasingly restricted in use and associated with members of the royal
family.908 When the client-king Juba III Ptolemaeus of Mauretania (modern day Tunisia and
Algeria)909 attended some public spectacles in Rome in 40 CE as Caligula’s guest, the Emperor was
so provoked by his purpura-dyed clothes that he had him executed.910 During the reign of Nero,
906
McGovern and Michel 1990.
Reinhold 1976, 52; Sebesta 2001, 71; Bradley 2009B, 201.
908
Reinhold 1976, 48-50.
909
King Juba III Ptolemaeus (ca. 13-40 CE) was the son of Cleopatra Selene, the daughter of Marcus Antonius and
Cleopatra VII. He was the first cousin to Claudius and second cousin to Caligula.
910
Reinhold 1976, 49. Scholars have, however, argued that the reasons for the execution of Juba III Ptolemaeus may
have been related to political circumstances and not the crazed mind of the Emperor, see Barrett 2008, 76-77.
907
203
further dedicated attempts were made at limiting the use of purpura dyes of the highest quality
which were then restricted to court use only.911
The written testimonies of the use of purpura dyed clothes, as already vocalized by Pliny the Elder,
Cicero and Cato above, testify to how the dye became increasingly popular amongst the rapidly
increasing Roman ‘middle class’. Martial particularly notes how the expensive and highest quality
of the dye was displayed as the success and wealth by social climbers.912 Perhaps the ‘purpura’
colour on the toga of Fundilius reflects this development? The orange/reddish hue of the paint
mixture preserved on the marble surface is composed by mixing finely grained ochre pigments and
not by using the dye itself, converted into purpurissum pigments. The colour observed on the toga
of Fundilius was therefore an imitation: a visually recognisable colour-coded paint mixture
consisting mainly of ochre, which deliberately emphasised the colour properties associated with
certain real-life effects of, perhaps, purpura dye.
The reddish/orange painted border on the toga should therefore not necessarily be interpreted as a
colour property which the dye was actually able to provide the textiles in real life, but as referring to
a stereotypically recognisable version of the colour-properties associated with a Roman constructed
colour appreciation and perception evolving around the values (economic, social, traditional and
aesthetical) ascribed to the purpura dye itself.
On the toga belonging to the Caligula statue from Richmond, a paint layer consisting of a mixture
of Egyptian blue and madder lake was discovered covering small areas of the toga garment.
However fragmented the remains may be, the tonal value of the purple paint mixture may testify to
an original attempt at conveying a certain shade of purpura which was associated with high social
status and wealth?913 Unlike the orange/red colour used for the toga of Fundilius and the red colours
on the togati from Formia and Tarragona, the violet paint mixture on the toga of the Emperor may
be interpreted as a colour-code marking the highest social stratum by using a certain hue associated
with the most expensive type of purpura dye (which Nero may have attempted to restrict to elite
users only). The same may be the case with the sculpted stola worn by the statue of Fundilia which
was also painted with a mixture of bright red pigments (similar to madder lake) and Egyptian blue
creating a violet colour.
911
McGovern and Michel 1990, 152; Edmondson 2008, 32-33. Nero even punished a Roman matrona for wearing
purpura-dyed clothes. Suet., Nero, 32.25. Reinhold 1976, 50.
912
Mart., Ep.,1.96.7, 2.57.2, 5.8, 5.23, 6.11, 8.10. Reinhold 1976, 52; Bradley 2009B, 201.
913
Archaeological remains of purpura dye, dyed textiles and pigments – both as used for paint application and in raw
format – show that the hues evolved in particular around violet and purple: McGovern and Michel 1985, fig. 2; Karmon
and Spanier 1988, 185; Koren 2007, 382; James et al. 2009;
204
I shall return to discuss purpura, in particular how the modern scholar may approach complex
readings of its use during the Roman Empire such as the symbolic meanings attached to it, in more
detail in main Chapter 9.
C7.3: The agency of the sitter: balancing between individual likeness and generic
representation
So far this main section has discussed the painted marble portrait sculptures from Case Studies 1
and 2 according to their semiotic, performative roles as social agents in Roman society. Each
coloured detail has been interpret as specifically chosen as social markers engaging - or
persuading914 - the viewer into a cognitive dialogue. Acknowledging such aspects as an important
factor relating to why the polychrome portraits were produced, the following section will discuss in
more detail how they mediated the agencies of their sitters, by focusing on their sculpted and
colour-coded recognisability and how the craftsmen sought to balance the levels of true likeness and
ideal representation according to the sitter of the portrait.
It should be made clear that this discussion is not to be confused with the life-likeness or mimetic
effects, which the painted marble portraits also aspired towards: how the combination of marble and
paint of the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 embodied life-likeness will be discussed in detail
below in main section B. The following section will instead explore how the painted marble
portraits were constructed and colour-coded to convey likeness and recognisability; meaning how
they resembled their sitters.
Sculpted and colour-coded recognisability
Pliny the Elder shortly notes how portraits of his time (mid first century CE) had ceased to pursue
‘extremely correct likenesses’ and how ‘heads of statues are exchanged for others (…) consequently
nobody’s likeness lives and they leave behind them portraits that represent their money, not
themselves.’915 Pliny’s observations reflect what he himself expected a portrait to be: he is
provoked because the portraits are not what they appear to be (which are correct likenesses of their
sitters), but instead are material extensions of the social status of their sitters. In a letter to his friend
Macrinus, Pliny the Younger (first century CE) writes of his own thoughts on the erection of a
914
915
Trimble 2014.
Plin. HN. 35.4-5. (Translated H. Rackham, Loeb 1995).
205
triumphal statue of Vestricius Spurinna, a senator and twice consul whom Pliny the Younger greatly
admired. In the letter Pliny the Younger describes how portrait statues (including Spurinna’s)
erected in frequent spaces – as well as the busts set up in private houses – comfort him to walk by,
gaze upon and recall, ‘(…) the forms and faces of our lost ones, but also their dignities and
glory’.916
According to Pliny the Younger the portrait sculptures were representations of the persons
portrayed, which served both to memorialise their physiognomic appearances as well as certain
personal traits. Pliny the Younger (and the Elder) both expects a certain level of resemblance
between the portraits and the individuals they sought to commemorate embodying their presence
when they were not there. Pliny the Younger knows that the portraits he is looking at are not actual
living people, and he recognizes how they are material manifestations acting as vehicles for
expressing and commemorating a as much the sitters physiognomic traits as his persona.917
Produced with the expectations of being recognized, not necessarily as ‘extremely correct
likenesses’, but as idealized material manifestations of their sitters, the painted marble portraits
would have reproduced certain physical features from their sitters. In the case of the portraits of
Fundilia the sculpted facial features reproduced a certain physiognomic individuality which can be
recognized on both portraits, although their sculptural executions differ slightly.918 Added painterly
effects (skin tone and colours of lips, eyebrows and pupils) the optical effects of resemblance
between the idealized portrait and its real-life sitter would have been perfected.
Visually extracting and recognising individual faces is a basic human social act which most people
learn while growing up.919 All human faces are essentially similar (two eyes, one nose, one mouth,
two ears, two cheeks, one chin);920 yet human beings are able to decode each face individually by
extracting certain physical features. How human beings are able to do this is much debated amongst
scholars. Some suggests that the human brain treats facial patterns interrelated and less so as a
whole, meaning that each facial impression is defined according to how the facial parts (eye, nose,
chin, cheek, eyebrows, ears) relate to each other more so than to what the brain can remember from
916
Plin. Ep. 2.7.7, (translated by
Gell 1998, 20. This particular discussion focuses on colour-coded recognisability, but (as also mentioned at the
beginning of this section) the discussion does also touch upon the concept of mimesis; meaning mimetic representation,
to which the dissertation will return to deal with in more detail in main section B.
918
Both portraits have been scanned by Katharina Lorenz, and results showed that they were executed slightly
differently. See B4.2.
919
Bruce and Young 2000, 151.
920
Bruce and Young 2000, 4-21.
917
206
other face encounters.921 In contribution hereto scholars have also stated that patterns of light and
shade (composed by hair lines, eyebrows, high or deep-set placements of the eyes, shadows
surrounding the contours of the mouth, etc.) are crucial to face recognitions as well.922
Face recognition extracted from polychrome marble sculptures may therefore have been supported
by both the sculpted form as well as the painted finish. The same basic facial elements which
ensured recognisability and individuality were reproduced in plastic form and colours on the marble
portraits and presumably inspired by the real life face of the sitter. The two portraits of Fundilia did
therefore not need to be sculpted completely identically as recognisability could be ensured by
reproducing the same patterns of light and shadow. This testifies to an impressive intuitive
knowledge on behalf of the Roman craftsmen of how to reproduce human facial features in order to
secure visual recognisability.
Much like the portraits of Fundilia, the three portraits of Maximus from Case Study 2b were also
painted very similar: all three heads were given hair colours repeating similar colour properties.
The similar painting of the hair on the three Maximus portraits is interesting because the portraits
differ slightly in style of execution. Two of the replicas, cat. No 12 and 13, are very similar: both
heads were executed with great attention to detail, the facial features are rounded, almost chubby,
with a pointed chin, the strands of hair were quickly but individually shaped by a sharp flat chisel,
and the turn of the head towards right is energetic (fig. B:129 and B:130). The third replica, cat. No.
14, is more idealized in execution (fig. B:131). The facial features are less accentuated, with a
smaller and thinner mouth, and the chin and hair is more schematically executed with little, almost
no, plasticity. Cat. No. 12 and 13 were most likely executed by the same craftsmen which formed a
group together with a portrait of Maximinus Thrax,923 (fig. C:6), while Cat. No. 14 seems to have
been executed by a different craftsman, perhaps in another workshop. But the painter(s) of all three
portraits provided them with a similar basic polychrome finish; a colour-code that transcended the
agency of the sculptors and highlighted the agency of the sitter through material manipulations
securing a staged recognisability of all three portraits.
921
Bruce and Young 2000, 152-153.
Bruce and Young 2000, 155 box 5A.
923
Johansen 1995B, 100-101, cat.no. 39.
922
207
Colour-coded Zeitgesicht and Bildnisangleichung?
The ability to be recognizable in reproduced portraits was of utmost importance to the Roman
Emperor and his family, whose portraiture was distributed throughout the Empire.924 As material
manifestations of their sitters the portraits served to strengthen the Emperors claim to power, and it
was therefore imperative that citizens of all parts of the Empire were able to visually separate
portraits of the ruling dynasties from each other.925
Research into portrait typologies of Roman Emperors show that certain measures were taken by the
craftsmen producing the portraits to ensure this recognisability. Although the portraits were
produced in work shops throughout the Empire, and therefore affected by multiple local traditions
of stylistic execution, features such as individualized hair-styles were minutely copied from portrait
to portrait.926 The research into the different styles of sculpting in Roman marble portraiture, and
how such conformed into typologies based on hairstyles, have given way for a more detailed
understanding of the production and consumption of Roman portraiture, including how the portraits
were influencing and being influenced by certain ‘trends’ of their own time. This phenomenon is
known both as Bildnisangleichung (assimilated portraiture), referring to the conscious stylistic
imitation of specific portraiture, and as Zeitgesicht (period-face), referring to certain styles
prevailing during specific periods.927 The following section will discuss how the painted finish of
the portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 affects the theoretical discourses of Zeitgesicht and
Bildnisangleichung.
The well-preserved painted hair on the Caligula portrait in Copenhagen reveals that the polychrome
finish in some cases extended the plastic shape of the sculpted hair locks. The painted hair, which
can still be seen with the naked eye, shows that the sideburns were painted beyond the sculpted
accentuations thereby finishing the illusion of voluminous, tumbling hair locks (fig. B:79). On one
of the portraits of Maximus (cat. No. 13) remains from a once painted curl can be seen on top of the
polished skin suggesting that the hair on Maximus had painted hair which extended the sculpted
form as well (fig. B:152). Although the coiffures on both portraits of Caligula and Maximus are
recognisable and identifiable by the characteristic sculptural executions and arrangements of the
924
See Pfanner 1989.
Mayer 2010, 113.
926
On the techniques of copying portraits in the Roman Empire see Pfanner 1989.
927
Massner 1982, 1-4; Zanker 1982, 307-312; Zanker and Fittschen 1983, 23-30; Bazant 1995, 133-141; Fejfer 2008,
270-285; Fittschen 2010, 236-239.
925
208
locks, the painter added the final details effectively completing the material imitation of human
hair.928 So far scholars have focused on the sculpted form when exploring the ‘trends’ of Zeitgesicht
and Bildnisangleichung (as colour on marble portraits is a relatively new research branch). But if
the polychrome finish completed this form, how closely would portraits, sharing the same sculpted
form, have followed the same ‘trend’? And switching the tables around: could the painted hair be
colour-coded to convey a polychrome Zeitgesicht or Bildnisangleichung despite differently sculpted
coiffures?
The portraits of the unidentified youth (fig. B:127 and B:128) both follow a sculpted ‘trend’; a
Bildnisangleichung closely associated to the portraits of Maximus upon which the dating of the two
portraits of the youth are based (fig. B:129, B:130 and B:131).929 The portraits depict young, cleanshaven men with high-gloss polished exposed skin, youthful physiognomic features and similar
short cut hair combed from the back to the front and executed as small, plastic accentuations
performed by flat chisel. The coiffure of the youth is executed slightly different than that of
Maximus: the front hair of the youth is executed as if combed in a small wave chiselled above the
glossy carnation surface, but besides this detail the overall sculptural execution of the coiffures are
very similar.
However, examinations of their paint remains revealed that the portraits of Maximus were painted
differently than those of the youth. The hair on the portraits of Maximus were painted in a
reddish/brown hue, while the hair on the youth was ‘blond’, built up by dark, reddish, brown and
yellow hues. Furthermore the hair on both portraits of the youth was given leaf gold as highlights,
of which examinations of the Maximus portraits could not prove an original application. As an
integrated part of the polychrome colouration the leaf gold contributed with its natural shine and
smooth material properties completing the illusions of bright and well-groomed golden hair.
The sculpted form of the hair on the youth might seem reasonable to interpret as a certain level of
Bildnisangleichung referring to the portraits of Maximus, but when painted over this assimilation
would not have continued to be as visually explicit. In particular the painted curl on one of the
portraits of Maximus (and presumably the other two as well, although examinations cannot support
this) would have altered the visual appearance of the sculpted hair by completing the rather simple
execution of the locks by adding detail and volume to – and beyond – the plastic shape.
928
The portrait of Caligula is a variation of the so-called Haupttypus, see Boschung 1989, 41-43. On the portraits of
Maximus, see: Wiggers and Wegner 1971, 231-235.
929
On the dating and proposed identifications of the portraits of the youth see B5.1.
209
As the versatile visual language, which the painted hair communicated, it seems appropriate to
proportionally extend the theoretical discourses of Zeitgesicht and Bildnisangleichung to
incorporate colour-codes as well. The portraits of the youth and the portraits of Maximus were
given almost the same fashionable haircut, but once painted the visual purposes of the haircuts
ceased to resemble each other and instead assumed different visual communicative properties. The
reddish/brown hues of the portraits of Maximus may have been in alignment with a certain
conventional ‘Roman’ colour, as discussed above, but the ‘blond’ hair of the youth sought different
ideals.
As noted above in A2.1 and A3.1 silver and in particular gold seem to have been associated with
divine properties related to gods and goddesses when used for sculptural purposes during the
Roman Empire.930 The shiny, radiant effects of gold were unparalleled by any other sculptural
materials, and when used as thinly beaten sheets placed on top of a material of lesser value (i.e.
copper alloys, wood, terracotta, limestone and painted marble) the visual goal was the same: to
visually assimilate the appearance of golden statues.
But when used as highlights the golden application sought only the shining effects of the material
properties and not necessarily the obvious economic or symbolic associations related to the metal
itself. Internalized within the visual vocabulary of the painted marble sculpture, and placed upon
layers of paint which altered the polychrome properties of the thin leaves of gold, the metal
applications acted as colour effects on equal terms with the rest of the painterly application.
However, attached to the optical effects of the metal leaves may still have been an aura of divinity
and luxury, and by adding the leaf gold onto for example painted ‘blond’ hair the polychromy of the
portrait of the youth borrowed this aspiration and fused it with an ideal of youth and beauty. But
unlike the golden statues of immortal divinities the painted marble portrait of the youth remained a
life-like material representation of a real human being despite the use of golden polychrome
properties.
As most portraits are missing their original colour today, information on the original existence of
colour-coded phenomena such as Zeitgesicht and Bildnisangleichung is lost to us, and must, at this
point, therefore remain largely speculative. But if more dedicated research into such aspects of the
polychromy of Roman white marble sculptures is attempted in the future, it would, hopefully,
930
Fejfer 2008, 166; Lapatin 2015, 19-20.
210
improve our understanding of their original purpose; and to what extent the painted finishes were
used to express such social and cultural ‘fashion statements’.
How to colour-code ‘blond’?
The visual language of the applied colour-codes supported and completed the sculpted form but, as
has already been discussed above, it also transcended it. The effective yet complex vocabulary
defined the collective within the individual portrayals as well as accentuated and separated the
identities of the individuals from the generic mass. It seems that certain colour-codes were actively
functioning as Zeitgesicht and presumably also Bildnisangleichung, but recognizing such
deliberately sought after trends from the fragmented material at hand is, of course, challenging at
this stage in research. Assimilating the ‘blond’ hair colour on the portraits of the youth with youth
and beauty associated with the divine may seem reasonable, but deciphering whether all colourcodes gravitating towards ‘blond’ colour properties were perceived as relating to the divine or not is
far more challenging. ‘Blond’ is a modern term covering a modern colour categorization and may
therefore not apply to how Romans themselves experienced the constituting properties related
thereto.
In a previous section the ‘blond’ hues of the portraits of Quinta (and the young unidentified woman)
from the Room of Fundilia were discussed as deliberately coded to accentuate youth and beauty.
But unlike the hair colour on the portraits of the youth, which was composed by layers of different
paint mixtures, the ‘blond’ hair on Quinta was built up from singular hues of yellow and red
creating a saturated yellow hue. The painting of the hair on the youth therefore suggests a more
naturalistic rendering of ‘blond’ human hair, while the hair on Quinta seems to have been more
synthetic. Both ‘blond’ hair colours may therefore have referred to youth and beauty. But the hair on
Quinta may have been specifically referring to a beauty associated with Roman female cultus (as
discussed above); while the hair on the youth may have been more specifically perceived as the
radiant beauty of the adolescent boy who is just about to become a man, and which other
individuals such as Lucius Verus, who sprinkled golden dust into his hair (see p. 157), also aspired
towards?
The full meaning of such semiotic complexities which the changeable colour properties were able to
offer, not only when gravitating towards ‘blond’ hair colours but also towards nuances of
reddish/brown and brown (as discussed above) were most likely easily extracted by the Roman
211
viewer and connected to the overall purposes of the portrait. Today ‘blond’ hair colours come in
many varieties, which most modern viewers are able to extract, de-code and connect to certain
social identities and cultural ideals: from the pop-cultural platinum blond, to the natural
Scandinavian ash-blond. The different ‘blond’ colours – sometimes or exclusively obtained
cosmetically – provide a broad variety of semiotic, post-semiotic and supra-semiotic meanings,
transcending time, different styles of hair, gender and ethnic groups.
212
CHAPTER 8
Experiencing polychrome portraiture
While the previous Chapters centralized around the semiotic purposes of the painted marble
portraits, their role as social agents and how they mediated the agencies of craftsmen, their
commissioner, and especially sitter, this Chapter will explore how the portraits were experienced by
the viewer. By doing so this Chapter will seek beyond the semiotic approaches presented in the
previous section, which tends to emphasise the merely apparent, to include a discussion of how the
painted marble portraits were perceived by their Roman spectators. What was the purpose of the
marble portraits; not just as visual stimuli but as whole multi-sensory phenomena, which evoked
certain emotions within the viewer? How were they meant to be experienced?
In his article from 1996 Mitchell asks the question: ‘What do pictures really want?’931 Although the
question ‘(...) involves a subjectivizing of images, a dubious personification of inanimate objects,
that flirts with a regressive, superstitious attitude toward images (...)’ the question is posed with the
intentions of debating the ‘uncanny personhood’ of objects. Although we know that objects are
material entities, we tend to act as if they have a will, a desire, and agency.932 Mitchell concludes,
placing him in the theoretical line of Alfred Gell, that all objects must be understood as agents who
initiate various engagements with their viewers.933 Mitchell – and Gell – thereby proposes a
scholarly focus directed away from the traditional iconographic and semiotic approaches and to the
role of vision in mediating social relations.A
To Mitchell and Gell seeing is more than just viewing. Gell in particular deliberately breaks with
the ocularcentrism of art interpretation by offering a different approach to understanding aesthetic
appreciations called Abduction of Agency (A6). Abduction of Agency is basically an approach
which emphasises agency, causation, result and transformation (see fig. 0:9 and 0:10).934 Art works
are indexes which mediate or refer agency through their artistic execution by abducting the viewer
(recipient). Art works conjure up ranges of emotions within the viewer from their act of
manufacture and visual complexity; they enchant, provoke, capture, persuade and intimidate.935 As
931
Mitchell 1996.
Mitchell 1996, 72-73.
933
Mitchell 1996, 82; Tanner and Osborne 2007, 9. See also Gell 1998.
934
Gell 1998, 6; Tanner and Osborne 2007, 2, 9-22.
935
Gell 1998, Gell 1999, Tanner and Osborne 2007, 3.
932
213
such art works are more than just objects to be viewed, they are actively participating in forming
social relations, and as such they have a certain will and purpose.
Today the ancient white marble portraits are primarily experienced in the halls of museum galleries,
where the viewers are restricted to engage with them only through vision. But originally, and before
‘the art of vision’936, it seems that the painted marble sculptures were created to persuade the
ancient Roman viewer into a multi-sensory experience including other senses as well: such as smell,
taste and touch (C8.2 below).937 Pliny the Elder writes of how the cult statue of Aphrodite, made by
Praxiteles sometime around the mid fourth century BCE and set up in the small sanctuary on the
island of Knidos, was constantly being subjected to the touch (and sometimes more intimate
approaches) of visitors passing by (fig. B:165).938 The statue, which depicted the Goddess of love
and fertility in the nude was executed in marble and presumably painted as well; a combination
which somehow made the ancient viewers feel inspired – perhaps even invited? – to more than just
a visual engagement.
Unlike other sculptural material such as metals and coloured stones, which primarily exploited the
natural colours of the materials themselves, the painted marble sculptures offered a different
experience evolving around optical illusions. Using what appears to have been a tempera technique
to provide the stones with a polychrome finish, the material properties of the white marbles were
completely redefined, offering an alluring and engaging aesthetic experience.
C8.1: The mimetic effect of painted marble po rtraits
Chapter 1 discussed the white marbles according to the other materials that were available to the
Roman craftsmen and proposed that the white marbles were chosen for specific visual purposes,
which Chapter 2 argued, was a certain intended dematerialization of the material properties
involved with the process of creating the polychrome portraits. The marble stone was prepared for
the painted effects much like what an artist does to his/her canvas before painting. C7.3 discussed
how the painted marble portraits also embodied a certain resemblance with the sitters of the
portraits, gravitating towards specific sculpted and colour-coded points of recognisability. Such
recognisability was, however, not proposed as life-likeness. What will therefore be explored and
discussed in this following sub-section is to what extent the artistic execution of the painted marble
936
Bradley 2014, 185.
Pliny the Elder describes how the temple of Minerva at Elis was painted with a milk-saffron mixture, which gave off
a smell and a taste. Plin. HN, 36.177. Bradley 2014, 195.
938
Plin. HN, 36.21. (Translated by Eichholz, Loeb 1989). Brinkmann 2014, 77; Bradley 2014, 195.
937
214
portraits embodied lifelikeness. This discussion will take its point of departure in the classical idea
of mimesis.
Sculptural life-likeness and the classical idea of mimesis
Roman written sources are full of stories and references to life-like sculptures.939 Callistratus’ work
Statuarum Descriptiones from the third century CE contains several vivid descriptions of marble
statues which embodied versions of life-likeness or real life imitation; what the Greek and Roman
philosophers referred to as mimesis.940 Callistratus describes how a marble sculpture of Narcissus
placed by a spring told the story of the beautiful young man who fell in love with his own mirror
image when gazing upon his reflection in the water.941 The sculpture was executed in such a vivid
manner, with gilded hair locks and naked besides a mantle, which ‘(…) was so delicate and imitated
a mantle so closely that the colour of the body shone through the whiteness of the drapery
permitting the gleam of the limbs to come out.’ The execution of the painted marble sculpture
blurred the line between reality and artificial representation: ‘you could have seen how the marble,
uniform though it was in colour, adapted itself to the expression of his eyes, preserved the record of
his character, showed the perception of his senses, indicated his emotions and conformed itself to
the abundance of his hair as it relaxed to make the curls of his locks. Indeed, words cannot describe
how the marble softened into suppleness and provided a body at variance with its own essence; for
though its own nature is very hard, it yielded a sensation of softness, being dissolved into a sort of
porous matter.’942
Callistratus marvels at the craftsmanship of the statue of Narcissus. The statue is not Narcissus
himself, which Callistratus is aware of, the focus of admiration is therefore the manipulation of
materials, and how the materiality of the statue, a combination of hard marble stone and delicate
polychrome effects, captures the essence of Narcissus: the beautiful, young man who fell in love
with his own reflection in the water.
The artistic execution of the statue of Narcissus describes the classical idea of mimesis in figurative
939
Bradley 2014, 186-194.
In the written sources mimesis is used to describe both the art of writing and making art. How the two should be
distinguished is a topic of much scholarly debate (Halliwell 2002; Marusic 2009). In the following section, I will use
mimesis as referring mainly to figurative art works. The ancienttheory of mimesis is used as a tool to interpret and
understand the purpose of painting on Roman marble portraits (and sculptures in general). See: Sörbom 1966; Drost
1996, 61-62; Mannsfield 2006; Halm-Tisserant 2009; Bradley 2014.
941
Callistratus, Statuarum Descriptiones, 5.
942
Callistratus, Statuarum Descriptiones, 5. See also Bradley 2014, 185.
940
215
artworks: a manifold creative process including copying forms seen in nature and manipulating
them to fit certain ideals.943 As Narcissus was a fictive character and not a real living man the
artistic reproduction (whether the work of an actual sculptor or the rhetorical skills of Callistratus
himself, see the Introduction) of the mythological figure was inspired by a combination of natural
form and imagination. Such a process is exemplified by the story told by Pliny the Elder of the
painter Zeuxis, a Greek painter active during the fifth century BCE, who set out to paint a picture of
Helen of Troy.944 To paint his picture Zeuxis needed a model. But after having summoned several
young women in order to choose one, he ended up copying the best features from five different
women. By putting them together Zeuxis was able to paint his picture of the most beautiful woman
on earth.
As a somewhat more complex process than straightforward copying, mimesis can be defined as
largely depending on the agency of the artist, that is, how the artist interprets what s/he sees
(depending further upon the artist’s memory, traditions, imagination, and so on).945 This particular
role of the artist, as the mediator, translator and interpreter of the natural forms is highlighted by
Plato. In the Republic from the fifth or fourth century BCE Plato defines the artist according to what
he sees as two kinds of mimesis: a ‘true’ and a ‘false’.946 The ‘true’ mimesis is the exact likeness
which captures the essence of its subject uniting both the ‘idea’ and the ‘form’. But as the artist
cannot understand everything s/he sees in nature, such mimesis can never be achieved. The artistic
mimesis will therefore always be a ‘false’ reproduction of the natural forms, twice removed by the
interpretation of the artist and the by the art work itself, which threatens to distort the ‘idea’ and
thereby the truth.947 To Plato the artistic mimesis held a certain seductive power of which he was
particularly suspicious. He does, however, acknowledge in the Statesman that colour – in a correct
combination – would be able to provide the form a certain element of clarity.948
“In its full, classical sense ‘mimesis’ refers to a twofold approach to representation: first copying forms in nature,
then generalizing or perfecting those forms to achieve a kind of ideal.” Mansfield 2006, xv.
944
Plin. HN, 35. 64. Mansfield 2006, 7.
945
Sörbom 1966; Mansfield 2006, 8.
946
Pl. Resp. part III, 393d, 394d, and part X, 598b, 602c; Halm-Tisserant 2009, 142-145.
947
Mansfield 2006, 9.
948
“It’s for this reason that we’ve made our showing forth longer and did not in any case put a complete finish to the
myth, but our speech simply, like an animal (painting), though it seems likely to have its external outline adequately,
has not yet received the vividness as it were that’s in pigments and the mixture of colours.” Pl. Plt. part III, 277B
(translated by Benardete 1986. C. Drost 1996, 61.
943
216
Artistic mimesis and the safe removal from the real
Seneca writes in a letter to his friend Lucilius of the relationship between the portrait and its
sitter.949 Inspired by Plato’s theories of idea and form, he describes how the artist of a portrait
reproduces the portrait based on an idea of the person being portrayed. According to Seneca, ‘ideas’
are ‘(…) the everlasting pattern of those things which are created by nature.’950 To explain, he uses
the making of a portrait as an example: ‘Suppose that I wish to make a likeness of you; I possess in
your own person the pattern of this picture, wherefrom my mind receives a certain outline, which is
to embody in its own handiwork. That outward appearance, then, which gives me instruction and
guidance, this pattern for me to imitate, is the ‘ideal’. Such patterns, therefore, nature possesses in
infinite numbers – of men, fish, trees, according to whose model everything that has to create is
worked out.’951
Seneca further explains how idea relates to form: ‘And if you would know what ‘form’ means, you
must pay close attention, calling Plato, and not me, to account for the difficulty of the subject (…)
when the artist desired to reproduce Vergil in colours he would gaze upon Vergil himself. The
‘idea’ was Vergil’s outward appearance, and this was the pattern of the intended work. That which
the artist draws from this ‘idea’ and has embodied in his own work is the ‘form’.’952
Seneca thus explains how the portrait of Vergil does not only derive from the ‘idea’ of Vergil (that
is, not what Vergil exactly looked like, but what one might expect Vergil to look like), but also from
the artistic agency of its craftsman. The portrait is therefore neither completely life-like nor
idealized, but something in between. It is a balance between idea and form: ‘Our artist follows one,
but the other he creates. A statue has a certain external appearance; this external appearance of the
statue is the ‘form’. And the pattern itself has a certain external appearance, by gazing upon which
the sculptor has fashioned his statue; this is the ‘idea’.’953
What Seneca argues, and which seems to have been the common denominator for the theorizing of
mimesis from Plato of the fourth/fifth century BCE to Callistratus of the third century CE, is that
mimesis reflects an artistic process. According to the ancient philosophers the ability to provide a
work of art (whether it be a written text or sculptural work) with life-like qualities was primarily
949
Sen.Ep. 58.19. Halm-Tisserant 2009, 173.
Sen.Ep. 58.19.
951
Sen.Ep. 58.19.
952
Sen.Ep. 58.21.
953
Sen.Ep. 58.21.
950
217
possessed by the artist. The artist simulated a living presence of the non-present and silent reality.954
The role of the artist was not to understand nature in its complete form but to offer an aesthetic
distance hereto, a comfortable removal from the real.955
Painted white marble portraits: somewhere between wax and coloured stones
Keeping the classical idea of mimesis in mind I will now discuss how the painted marble portraits
may have sought to embody life-likeness through careful artistic processes of manipulating
specifically chosen materials. We know, mostly from written sources, that life-like portraits were
produced in Roman cultures, by modelling the faces of deceased individuals in wax (and perhaps
also terracotta) (see Chapter 2).956 Polybius’ second-century-BCE description of a funerary
procession, which he witnessed in Rome, particularly highlights the masks commemorating
deceased ancestors: ‘This image is a mask reproducing with remarkable fidelity both the features
and complexion of the deceased.’957The wax-masks were put on actors walking in the procession
and Polybius in particular notes how it was important that the actors looked like the deceased
individuals according to building, stature and dress.958
When the wax masks were not used at a funeral procession, they were put on display in the atrium
of the house, were all visitors were able to see them (fig. A:45).959 Pliny the Elder writes of these
wax masks and how they produced exact likenesses of their sitters unlike (painted and coloured)
marbles and bronzes which reflected the wealth of their sitters rather than their actual appearance:
‘(...) wax models of faces were set out each on a separate side-board, to furnish likenesses to be
carried in procession at a funeral in the clan, and always when some member of it passed away the
entire company of his house that had ever existed was present.’960
Most Romans, especially the nobility of Rome, would therefore have been acquainted with what
seems to have been strikingly life-like sculptural reproductions of human individuals.961 But the
painted marble portraits did not pursue realistic or hyper-realistic levels of life-like replication of
the persons they sought to portray. Instead of using ‘real’ materials such as textiles, or materials
‘(…) simule la presence vive d’une réalité absente et muette.’ Halm-Tisserant 2009, 142.
Mansfield 2006, 10; Halm-Tisserant 2009, 154.
956
Flower 1996, 37-38; Bückling 2014, 122.
957
Polyb. 6.53.5-9. (Translation Trimble 2011, 150).
958
Trimble 2011, 152.
959
Flower 1996, 38.
960
Plin.HN, 35..6.
961
Flower 1996, 37-38. See also Freedberg 1989; Drost 1996, 67-70.
954
955
218
which imitated the ‘real’ to perfection, like wax imitates human skin, the life-likeness of the
polychrome marble portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 relied on the artistic dematerialisation of the
marbles through surface texturing, detailing and painting.
But neither did the painted marble seek an idealism, which the portraits made from coloured stones
and metals embodied. Most of the coloured stones were used for architectural purposes, and when
used for sculptures the emotional impact may have been affected by such overall monumental
application. The material properties and in particular idealized, polychrome properties with which
nature had provided them with seem to have been appreciated for their luxurious appeal. Similar to
metals, in particular bronzes, the coloured stones were also hard and durable materials which were
perfectly suited for columns, pavements and similar decorative elements, but difficult to work into
sculptural forms which requited detailing and plasticity. The coloured stones that were
predominantly used for sculptures, depicting gods, goddesses, defeated enemies of Rome,
resembled the white marbles in material properties (including rosso antico, giallo antico,
pavonazetto) but these were rare and expensive.962 For portraiture the dark, green greywacke and
purple porphyry seem to have been predominantly used for depicting the Emperors and their
families.963
The painted marble portraits were therefore neither seeking the realism provided by the perishable
wax portraits nor the symbolic idealism of the durable metals and coloured stones; but something in
between. The painted white marbles balanced between the poles of ideal and realism by being hard,
cold stone and human hair, flesh and textiles. Their visual end goal was therefore neither to achieve
complete life-likeness nor idealism, but rather to gravitate towards them both.964
Colour-coding to avoid the Uncanny Valley
Since the painted marble portraits appear not to have aspired towards complete life-likeness, but to
strive towards it, what will be debated in this section is why. When an object imposes a high level of
realism on its viewer, it creates a tension surrounding its visual perception.965 Although the
craftsmanship of the extremely life-like object might cause admiration from the viewer, the objects
which mimic human form and function perfectly can also cause anxiety.966
962
Schneider 1986; Fant 1993, 147-150; Schneider 2002.
Di Leo 1989B, 56; Pasqua 2007, 152-153; Del Bufalo 2012
964
Freedberg 1989, 201.
965
Freedbarg 1989, Roller 2014.
966
Freedberg 1989 , 221.
963
219
These powerful emotional effects have been exploited for various reasons and purposes since
Antiquity. In the Late Republican and Imperial periods the life-likeness of the ancestral masks was
deliberately obtained through staged acting in order to call upon the presence of the deceased
ancestors.967 Similarly realistic portraits, predominantly made from wax from the Middle Ages to
the late 18th century, balancing somewhere between reality and artistic reproduction, could be
perceived as the embodied presence of their sitters.968 The visual purpose of extreme lifelikeness
was to blur the lines between objects and real human beings: ‘The striving for resemblance marks
our attempts to make the absent present and the dead alive.’969 Much like the ancestral masks of the
Roman nobility which were perceived as a physical presence of the deceased during the funerary
procession; a reconstitution of life. But the painted marble portraits did not aspire to the same
effects. Their goal was rather a mimetic effect relying on the agency of the craftsman which
simulated a living presence of the non-present and silent reality thereby offering an aesthetic
distance: a comfortable removal from the real.970
There exists a theory in the field of human aesthetics, which claims, that the human observer will be
appalled by objects which look either almost, but not completely, or too much like human beings.
The theory is called Uncanny Valley and was coined by Japanese robotic scientist Massahiro Mori
in 1970. It seeks to explain how different levels of life-likeness affect the human observer with
particular focus on how increased life-likeness does not necessarily lead to increases in acceptance
of an anthropomorphic object or human representation.971 To prevent that the observer becomes
appalled by the life-like object, the object will have to balance out levels of familiarity according to
levels of human likeness: if the object looks like a human, but is too unfamiliar, it will generate
negative emotions within the viewer (fig. 0:11). On the other hand, if the object does not look like a
human but has much human familiarity it too will provoke negative emotions within the human
observer. This is the Uncanny Valley.972
Avoiding the Uncanny Valley is important when working in the field of robotics, visual effects and
puppet-making, animations (in particular three-dimensional) and human prosthesis. If a hand
prosthesis looks like a human hand but has a strange skin colour or surface texture people will find
it disgusting. If the hand only has the functions of a human hand but looks like a robotic devise
967
Trimble 2011, 151.
Roller 2014, 63.
969
Freedbarg 1989, 201.
970
Mansfield 2006, 10; Halm-Tisserant 2009, 154.
971
Pollick 2010, 69.
972
Mori 1970, 33.
968
220
without any recognizable human colour or texture it will also be found appalling. The hand
prosthesis needs to have enough elements resembling a human hand (size, shape, colour and
function), but it will also have to resemble its true nature in order not to provoke or scare when in
contact with humans.973 Therefore the texture will normally not resemble true, life-like human skin,
although that could easily be obtained, but instead refer to its robotic origin by using synthetic
materials and surface textures. In this case an increase in life-likeness will not lead to increases in
acceptance.
To some modern artists playing with the levels of human life-likeness and familiarity is at the core
of their artistic, creative process seeking a particular emotional reaction. Hyper-realistic artists, such
as Ron Mueck, continue to astonish and provoke by exploring the line between what is and what is
not, causing almost always a certain level of discomfort (fig. 0:7). It is difficult to extract any
familiar points from our visual encounter with the works of Mueck and we are therefore not sure of
what we are, in fact, observing.974 To some this is the strength of his art works, but it also supports
the graph of Mori. The reactions to Mueck’s sculptures illustrate how an increased artistic realism
does not lead to an increase in acceptance: his sculptures of human beings motivate an irritation and
frustration within the viewer, and are rarely found aesthetically pleasing or appealing.975
It is difficult to establish if the painted marble portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 might place
themselves on the graph of Massahiro Mori, and if so, where; in particular because we lack an idea
of any cultural or evolutionary developments of what humans have chosen to term as uncanny
within their cultural frameworks. But as discussed above the mimetic effect of the dematerialization
of the marble stones, obtained through surface detailing, texturing and painting, seems to have
strived towards complete life-likeness but not towards obtaining it. It therefore seems likely that the
combination of surface texturing and paint aimed at a visual appeal, and not at dropping the portrait
sculptures into a Roman equivalent of the Uncanny Valley. Perhaps they should be placed
somewhere immediately before the drop, which Mori himself proposed as an effective target for any
anthropomorphic designs (fig. 0:11).976 Their level of familiarity seems to have been relatively high
(as the colour-coded textiles and skin- and hair nuances seems to have been fixed within the social
frameworks of Roman culture, as debated in main section A) according to their life-like elements
973
Mori 1970, 34.
Roller 2014, 63.
975
Roller 2014, 13, 63.
976
Pollick 2010, 71.
974
221
(the skin paint on the high-gloss polished youth). Furthermore their statuary elements (plinths and
shafts and painted ‘vacant’ spaces) would of course have ensured that the painted marble portraits
were never perceived as completely realistic. However perfectly the symbiotic combination of
white marble stone and polychrome effects may have imitated real living human beings, the plinths
and shafts would have ensured that they remained attached to their statuary elements.
So far the reconstructions cannot be considered as close enough to the polychrome look of their
originals to base any conclusions of levels of life-likeness on them.977 The question of whether or
not the painted colours were intentionally applied as colour-codes emphasizing recognisability and
familiarity in order to deliberately avoid complete life-likeness is therefore open ended. But the
reconstructions can prove quite helpful, when speculating further on how the painted marble
portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 may have been experienced by the ancient Roman viewer, by
offering a reconstruction of their originally intended context of display. This will be the topic of the
section following below.
C8.2: What did the painted marble portraits want?
In the final section of this chapter, the dissertation will return to the question, which Mitchel posed
in his article from 1996 (see above), and which has been rephrased to fit the topic of this
dissertation: what did the painted marble portraits want? While the previous section did not
completely succeed in breaking away from the traditional, modern Western constructed
ocularcentric approach to art appreciation, but focussed on the emotional relationship between art
and viewer, and painted marble portrait and Roman viewer, this section will explore in more detail
how the painted portraits may have been experienced in Antiquity by transcending the merely
apparent and including the multi-sensory experience to which the portraits were planned. Such
synesthetic or polysensorial experiences included besides sight also touch, smell and taste.
977
At this point the reconstructions are mainly used to debate the aspects of painting on marble portraits of which we
know very little; such as painting techniques and aesthetics (see Chapter1). But they should not be regarded as truthfully
mirroring the original painted looks of their originals. They represent works in progress, which reflect the development
of ancientpolychromy research. To the scholars they are informative tools, which are used to test theories on paint
applications and visual purposes. As such they play an important role in the complex reiterative processes of research
into antique marble polychromy.
222
The synesthetic experience of painted marble portraits
Having narrowed the general purposes of the painted marble portraits down to evolving around
technical manipulations of the material properties of marble and paint and the internal mind of the
viewer, this section will delve a bit further in the pursuit of an answer to the question of what the
portraits originally wanted. However, this final step towards unravelling their original purpose will
focus on the largely archaeologically untraceable essential parts of their original multi-sensory
purpose, including in particular touch but also smell and taste.
The senses of the human body are what define its existence in the world.978 Yet scholars of ancient
Roman sculptures have placed an overwhelming amount of focus on one sense: that of vision. But
dividing and categorizing the body of sensory experience into sight, smell, touch and taste
separately is misplaced. Human beings experience their surrounding world with a simultaneous use
of all the senses.979 In Western cultures, vision tends to dominate as the prime and most
sophisticated sensory tool, which may be attributed to a prevalent cultural emphasis on the written
word and print media (see the Introduction, p. 7-10).980 But evidence suggests that it may have been
different in Roman cultures where sight was aligned with other senses including smell, taste and in
particular touch.981 Aristotle ranked sight as the informative sense, but touch as the primary sense
which defined human intelligence.982
The impact of touch is in particular an important, yet often overlooked, human sensory tool.983 In
his book from 1971 Montagu stated: ‘Touch is ten times stronger than verbal or emotional contact,
and it affects damn near everything we do. No other sense can arouse like touch. We forget that
touch is not only basic to our species, but the key to it.’984 Humans greatly rely on touching in every
aspect of their daily functions: touching promotes communication, evokes emotions and affects
personal relationships.985 Human skin therefore constitutes the largest sensory organ and is the best
represented sense in the brain.986 The majority of human learning – at least in the early years – is
978
Tilley 2004, 15.
Tilley 2004, 14.
980
Tilley 2004, 15: Howes 2011, 435.
981
Howes 2011; Bradley 20013.
982
Howes 2011, 435.
983
Montagu refers to touch as the fifth sense: Montagu 1971; Field 2010, 367.
984
Montagu 1971.
985
Field 2010, 368.
986
Montagu 1984, 17; Field 2010, 368.
979
223
through touch.987 We use touch to map the world surrounding us; and if sight and hearing fails us,
touch remains the one sense we can truly rely on.988 Most humans have experienced – at a certain
point – how they have felt the need to touch something to make sure that it was truly there, and not
a trickery of the eye.
In some non-Western cultures touch is regarded as the prime and most sophisticated sense. The
Cashinahua in Peru operates with a certain ‘skin intelligence’ (bichi una) which is defined as the
knowledge one obtains through haptic contact with the surrounding environments.989 It is the most
crucial intelligence to develop as it presupposes ones survival in the jungle as well as knowledge of
other peoples behaviour.990
The modern scholar is largely prohibited from experiencing the ancient marble sculptures through
touch, but written sources testify to how touching may have been an integrated part of how the
sculptures were originally intended to be experienced. As mentioned shortly above Pliny the Elder
notes how the famous statue of Aphrodite from the sanctuary on Knidos is described as constantly
being subjected to the touch of (in particularly male) visitors (fig. B:166).991 In another section of
Naturalis Historiae (also mentioned above) Pliny the Elder notes how the temple of Minerva at Elis
was painted with a milk-and-saffron plaster mixture which did not only smell but also provided a
taste, if the visitor rubbed their thumbs on the surface.992 The written testimonies offered by Pliny,
as well as the descriptions of statues provided by Callistratus, suggest that painted Roman marble
portraiture stimulated other senses besides that of vision.993
987
Montagu 1984.
Montagu 1984, 24.
989
Howes 2011, 436.
990
Howes 2011, 436.
991
‘Praxiteles is an artist whose date I have mentioned among those of the makers of bronze statues, but in the fame of
his work in marble he surpassed even himself. There are works by him in Athens in the Cerameicus; and yet superior to
anything not merely by Praxiteles, but in the whole world, is the Venus, which many people have sailed to Cnidus to
see. (…) The shrine in which it stands is entirely open so as to allow the image of the goddess to be viewed from every
side, and it is believed to have been made in this way with the blessing of the goddess herself. The statue is equally
admirable from every angle. There is a story that a man once fell in love with it and hiding by night embraced it, and
that a stain betrays this lustful act.’ Plin., HN, 36.21. Bradley 2014, 196.
992
‘At Elis there is a temple of Minerva in which, it is said, Panaenus, the brother of Pheidias, applied plaster that had
been worked with milk and saffron. The result if that even today, if one wets one’s thumb with saliva and rubs it on the
plaster, the latter still gives off the smell and taste of saffron.”Plin., HN,.177. Bussels 2012, 25-31; Bradley 2014, 195.
993
Bradley 2014.
988
224
Contextual experience: The sensation of the colourful Room of Fundilia
Humans do not just experience their physical surroundings through sight. When a person enters a
room s/he will instantly react to whatever s/he sees, but also to what s/he is able to extract from the
atmosphere through smell, hearing and emotional reactions in order to define the nature of the
context (safe/dangerous/comfortable/anxious/etc.). Colours are very much an influential part of
human subconscious mapping of such environments. Although colours are registered through sight
their effects are very much also sensory and emotional.
As colours are affected by the physical spaces which surround them, the painted polychromy of the
marble portraits would also – to a certain extent – have been affected by the environments relating
to their original context; such as light-sources and any decorated or coloured frames. This subsection will therefore return to the portraits from Case Study 1, which all originated from the Room
of Fundilia. Although it is very difficult to re-live the original multi-sensory experience with the
painted marble portrait sculptures from the Room of Fundilia, it is possible to reflect on the colours
chosen for their original context, and how they might have affected the Roman viewer (fig. B:15).
The Room of Fundilia measured 5,6x6 m, and due to its placement beneath the porticus, it must to
some extent have been lit by artificial light such as torches or lamps (fig. B:12 and B:14). The
relatively simple decoration of the room, the red walls with small painted illustrations and the black
and white mosaic on the floor (fig. B:14 and B:16), meant that the portrait sculptures were the main
attraction within the room. The only way in and out of the room was through the door between the
columns: the visitor would enter, circle the room and look at the sculptures, and then exit though the
same door.
The warm red colour (presumably made from mixing ochre pigments) on the walls lit by flickering
lamps and/or torches would have created an intense atmosphere within the closed room. Red ochre
constitutes the eldest pigment to be produced and consumed by humans. The consistent use of red
ochre colours throughout human history has been explored by anthropologists as a ‘red thread’
woven through history.994 The reasons for this abundant use of highly saturated red hues has been
explained as medicinal (a certain healing effect due to the high amount of iron salts in ochres), as
well as relating to how human beings perceive and appreciate colour properties.995 Modern research
994
995
Lozier 2012, 120.
Lozier 2012, 120.
225
has shown that ‘warm’ colours generally accelerate activities:996 as opposed to ‘cool’ colours, which
have a calming effect, ‘warm’ colours speed up the pulse and improve human performances (see the
Introduction, p. 6-7).997
Although we cannot say if the warm, red colour used for the Room of Fundilia had such effects on
the Roman viewers, the choice of colour for the painted walls could hardly have been entirely
accidental. The application of this particular hue, of a saturation and tonality which modern day
scientists have proved to be the preferred colour for creating exhilarating environments, raises an
interesting question of whether human subconscious responses to the colour properties related to
red is a persistent phenomenon (‘read thread’) deeply rooted in human emotional reactions to
colour. The red colour of the walls of the Room of Fundilia may have been selected (not necessarily
consciously) to evoke an exciting experience and to channel the attention of the viewer towards the
sculptures.
Placed against the warm, red-painted walls the painted portrait sculptures were given the undivided
attention of the viewers who entered (fig. B:14 or B:15). The chosen colours for the hair and
garments evoked certain spectra of associations and recognitions on behalf of the viewer: a wealthy
matrona clad in stola and luxurious palla; three Roman citizens with reddish-brown hair colours; a
prominent Roman citizen wearing a toga praetexta; the beautiful and elegant young women with
strikingly blond hair; and the dignified elderly women wearing more dull and simple coiffures.
Through vision the Roman viewer was informed about the painted marble portraits and their artistic
execution, including mimetic effects as discussed above. But through touch the viewer could have
addressed the painted portraits, perhaps invited by their visual effects of dematerialized marble and
paint, to ensure their marble origin or to explore the particularly refined surface finishing which
absorbed and reflected the light in various ways. Sight informed and invited, but touch defined the
intelligent conclusions of the true nature of the painted portrait thus completing the experience.
Modern research into texturing has shown that experiencing haptic roughness and smoothness can
actually promote human empathy and helping behaviours: by touching we, ourselves, are also
touched.998 As social agents participating in mediating, re-enforcing and constructing Roman social
relations any such development of human social behaviours through haptic sensation, would have
996
See above mentioned experiments by Nicholas Humphrey, p. 6 note 33. The effects of red hues on human beings can
be seen as either exciting or aggressive, depending on the subject’s personality – this is what Angela Wright terms
‘lower order psychological activity’. See Wright 2012, 160.
997
Mikellides 2012, 122-124; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 149-151.
998
Wang, Zhu and Handy forthcoming.
226
been perfectly mediated through the painted portrait sculptures which were widely distributed
throughout the Roman Empire.
But the optical effects of marble and paint was not intentionally uncanny. The visual experience
relied on the tricking the eye drawing the viewer closer to a physical engagement without
motivating an appalling emotional reaction. Each painted marble portrait was either placed into tall,
rectangular herm shafts of a dark/grey marble with white veins, or of the same marble as the
sculpture, or into plinths (perhaps also originally larger bases carrying further inscriptions).
However life-like the textured and painted marble portraits may have been, the shafts and painted
plinths, ‘vacant spaces’ and other similar sculptural elements visually categorized the human
imitations according to their true statuesque nature.
The portraits from the Room of Fundilia were intended for the room beneath the portico (or another
context within the sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis; see Appendix 3) where the restricted traffic of
passing-by viewers would have allowed for a close-up inspection of each piece. Drawn by the tricky
visual effects of tromp-l-oeil, the viewer would have approached the portraits individually,
experiencing the haptic sensation of their skilfully dematerializations up close. Much of their
sculptural and painted detailing, which also held important information as to the individual and
collective identities of the persons portrayed, would therefore have been lost on the viewer if the
portraits had been placed in a more trafficked space. But in the Room of Fundilia the visual
appearances of the portraits communicated with their environment: the red walls and columns
framing the entrance directed the attention of the viewer, creating a stimulating and sensory
experience benefitting the sitters of each portrait and their commissioners.
Supra-semiotic purposes of the painted marble portraits: Phantasiai, Abduction of agencies, and
the agency of the viewer
It was the final polysensory encounter between polychrome portrait sculpture and viewer, which
was the end goal for the artistic process of creating the portraits. Their colour-coded, visual
narrative was finalized and fulfilled by the supra-semiotic language of the portraits which was
constituted by the memory and imagination of the viewer. The encounter between the physical
portrait and how the viewer perceived its presence through synesthetic experiences within a given
context was in other words completed by the imposed agency of the viewer.
227
Gell composed theoretical model(s) for this visual encounter which he termed Abduction of Agency
– or agencies: ‘(…) a structural isomorphy between something ‘internal’ (mind or consciousness)
and something ‘external’ – aggregates of art works as ‘distributed objects’ combining multiplicity
and spatio-temporal dispersion with immanent coherency’ (fig. 0:9 and 0:10)999 When the viewer
meets an object something happens: s/he is captured, persuaded, enthralled, abducted by a visual
encounter with the index of the object. The index, as the external expression of the object, is shaped
by the agencies of craftsmen, commissioner and (in the case of the portraits) the sitter. But the
abduction is also created from the internal mind of the viewer, relying on his/hers memory
(phantasiai,1000 explained below), associations, aesthetic preferences and so on: ‘(…) a person and a
person’s mind are not confined to particular spatio-temporal coordinates, but consists of a spread of
biographical events and memories of events, and a dispersed category of material objects, traces and
leavings (…).’1001
Aided by the semiotic and mimetic force of the painted marble portraits the viewer would extract all
familiar points, as explored in main section A. This abduction would have gravitated towards what
the viewer recognized; both intentionally and subconsciously manipulated by the agencies of
materials, craftsmen, sitter and/or commissioner. This ‘level’ of abduction therefore revolves around
de-coding a visual language (their semiotic purposes).1002 But as to any non-familiar visual
elements, the viewer would compensate by using his or hers own imagination, their phantasiai, by
‘(…) summoning the absent, yet necessary images – (…) – that were required for the realization of
a monument’s significance.’1003 The painted marble portraits were therefore produced to summon
not only the verbally recognisable stimuli but also the sensory and the emotional which were
individually created within the subconscious mind of the viewer.
999
Gell 1998, 222.
Koortbojian 2005.
1001
Gell 1998, 223.
1002
Hölscher 2004.
1003
Koortbojian 2005, 303.
1000
228
CHAPTER 9
Summing up: The materiality of colour
Having discussed the extent to which the painted marble portraits were originally fixed within the
social and aesthetic frameworks of Roman society in the previous sections, this final Chapter will
now address certain aspects of Roman colour perception and experience, which can be difficult to
perceive from a modern scholarly point of view. Such aspects include the symbolic value of
colours, and how the material properties of paint layers applied onto white marble portraits could be
manipulated in various ways, subsequently altering the value attached to the colour, which again
added a symbolic layer of meaning to the sculpture onto which the colour was applied. This is
termed the materiality of colours in order to grasp the full complex social system to which the
physical form of the colours were related to, and it includes a discussion of the biographies (postsemiotic meanings) which certain colours, such as purpura, accumulated over decades before,
during and after the Roman Empire, and how such biographies may potentially obstruct modern
scholarly interpretations of intended colour effects on two-thousand year old sculptures.
The following Chapter will propose that the colours constitute a material culture of their own,
which transcended the sculptural materials and extended to other media besides the artistic ones,
including ‘real life’ clothes, hair, make-up and written texts. Suggesting that colours have a
materiality, meaning that colours consist of more than mere material properties, is, in many ways,
obvious. As an integral part of human fundamental sensory experiences, with a material substance
bound to historical and social meanings, colours construct multiple different meanings consciously;
but also very much subconsciously. Locating and defining the individual materialities of colours –
connecting the non-physical associations, which ascribes a colour its value, to the material
properties attached to the specific colours – is, however, much more troublesome.
C9.1: Van Gogh’s painted flowers: colours defined by their contemporary contexts
Studying the intended effects of colours on two-thousand-year-old sculptural works is theoretically
and methodologically challenging. First of all, because of the obvious deterioration of the painted
colours; secondly because of how the modern scholar may ascribe the reconstructed remains’
originally intended emotional impacts, including symbolic values, can be difficult to keep free from
his/her modern constructed colour appreciation.
229
In the exhibition ‘Van Gogh: Irises and Roses’ in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2015, several
floral paintings of Vincent Van Gogh were put on display side by side, to be experienced together
for the first time since they were painted in the late 1800s.1004 The paintings were examined with
photo analysis and microscope prior to the exhibition, and the results were put on display alongside
the paintings. Unlike the ancient white marble sculptures the colours on paintings produced in more
recent times are largely taken for granted. But this exhibition proved otherwise.
The results from technical analysis showed that the red lead used by Van Gogh deteriorated over
time, subsequently providing the paintings with radically new appearances.1005 The originally
intended brilliancy of the painted flowers has altered and sometimes disappeared altogether (the
white roses that were once red, and the once violet lilies that are now mostly blue). Knowing this,
the viewer will have to completely revise his or her appreciation of the painting (aided by digital
reconstructions). But the originally intended colour effect of the painting, which was a result of Van
Gogh’s intense exploration of the new chromatic dimensions opened up by 19th-century chemistry,
is lost and may never be retrieved. What Van Gogh saw, what was originally his vision, constructed
by how he appreciated and used colours to challenge the traditional colour perception of his own
time1006, can only be experimentally restored through digitally reconstructed images, but never truly
reinstated.
Pigment production changed rapidly during the 19th century, offering new chromatic scales to the
painters, who intensely explored their vibrant visual effects. Scientists began to experiment with
synthetic pigments during the late 18th century, mainly to provide cheaper substitutes to the very
expensive bright mineral pigments, such as high saturated blue-hued ultra marine.1007 In the early
19th century the French chemist Michel Eugène Chevreul discovered how complementary colours
could be exploited to create vivid optical colour effects.1008 Thereby Chevreul created a whole range
of tools for painters to create different lights in paintings by placing certain hues in specific relation
to each other. Such a use of colours had already been discovered by Newton and Goethe (see the
Introduction), but Chevreul systematized the technique and revolutionized the colour wheel.1009 His
1004
Review in New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/22/arts/design/review-van-gogh-irises-and-rosessheds-light-on-a-disappearing-red-hue.html?_r=0
1005
F. Vanmeert, G. Van der Snickt, and K. Janssens, 2015.
1006
Van Gogh took advantage of the developing chemistry of the 19th century to produce more vibrant colours than had
ever been seen before, and produced paintings, which sometimes shocked and outraged the general audience of his
time. Ball 2001, 4-5.
1007
The Napoleonic administration of the late 18th century even commissioned distinguished chemists to create a
synthetic substitute for ultra marine. Ball 2001, 158.
1008
Ball 2001, 175.
1009
Ball 2001, 176.
230
discoveries subsequently changed how light was created and perceived in painterly effects: for
example, the depictions of water in paintings of Claude Monet.1010
Van Gogh’s brilliantly painted flowers were therefore created in a time, where the idea of colours,
their chemistry and rationale, were greatly exploited and constantly challenged in both art and
natural sciences. The use of vibrant colours pushed the limits for what the general public were used
to see in the late 19th century because the vitality they represented were visually perceived as at
odds with nature herself.1011 Now, over a hundred years later, knowledge on how the natural
properties of colours can be manipulated and exploited to obtain certain effects are well known and
implemented not only in artworks but also in interior decorations and spatial environments of most
modern societies.1012 Colours continue to have an emotional impact, but this is constantly changing
according to how colours are internalized by a given society. Knowing how colours affected the
originally intended viewers of Van Gogh’s paintings is therefore difficult to assess.
The value and the idea of colours – in the material world – is expressed in various ways, but mostly
operating within three overlapping categories of aesthetic (the rhetorical and artistic use of colours),
economic (the labour, capital and expertise invested in production and consumption of colour) and
social (colour as semiotic codes functioning as social agents) human activities.1013 Defining an idea
of certain colours and ascribing them a specific value can therefore not be done by mere optical
measurements of their material substances but must be aided by all detectable aspects of colour use;
including the rhetorical use of colour terms, the artistic reproduction of certain colour properties and
their manufacturing and circulation.
Exploring these aspects of the colours on two-thousand-year-old marble sculptures therefore
automatically poses certain restraints and methodological and theoretical caveats:
First of all, the modern scholar will have to confront and acknowledge his or her emotional
investments in the fragmented white marble pieces in modern museum galleries, which are largely
defined by centuries of excavating, restorations (and de-restorations), collecting, categorizing and
studying of ancient marble sculptures (see Appendix 5).
Claude Monet said in 1888 on the use of colours in paintings: ‘Color owes it brightness to force of contrast rather
than to its inherent qualities….Primary colors look brightest when they are brought into contrast with their
complementaries.’ Ball 2001, 177-178.
1011
Ball 2001, 5.
1012
Shimbun 2008; Grohol 2008; Mikellides 2012; Hurlbert and Ling 2012; Haller 2012; Wright 2012.
1013
Feeser, Goggin and Tobin 2012, 1.
1010
231
Secondly, one must accept that the reconstructions of how the painted marbles may originally have
looked, when based on the badly preserved paint remains, are - at best – experimental! When not
based on actual paint remains they are pure modern constructions (see Appendix 5). The
experimental reconstructions do not provide solid enough evidence to solely support conclusions as
to what the sculptures originally looked like in real life, as they will always be influenced – in
different ways – by restraint number one. They will, however, be able to provide some guidance to
how the documented and examined paint remains should be interpret, and how the painted marble
portrait may have originally appeared.
Thirdly, and summing up the previous two restraints, modern scholars will have to acknowledge
that they may never fully understand how the Romans originally experienced and appreciated
colours on marble sculptures. Because, not only are we challenged by the fact that most of the
original colours have deteriorated or changed (as the example with Van Gogh’s paintings), we are
also challenged by modern western colour appreciation as coined by 18th-century neoclassicism (see
the Introduction). Studies of colours as physical entities which can be measured and categorized,
initiated by 17th-century scientists such as Newton, have tended to focus on hue and saturation,
thereby developing a certain blind spot of other important colour properties such as tone and
brightness. Of course we perceive colours as much more than just hue, and the colour
standardization systems are specifically developed to measure and categorize all the properties
relating to a single colour.1014 Yet we instantly tend to define colours, in particular symbolically, by
referring mainly to hue (I shall return to this in C9.3).
Keeping the three theoretical and methodological restraints, summarized above, in mind, the subject
of an ancient Roman materiality of colours can, however, be performed based on the fragmented
material at hand. The following section will focus on the nexus located where the rhetorical use of
colour terms meet the artistic reproductions and application of certain colours, which both – yet in
different ways – reflect aspects of a real-life colour perception and appreciation. The materiality of
colours is therefore not a certain use of a colour term in a written text; nor is it a certain hue,
saturation, tone or brightness related to a paint mixture applied onto a given marble surface. The
materiality of colour is a network of complex social constructions casting a wide web into Roman
society. It is the summing up of a material and non-material biography relating to the colours, which
is constantly developed and renegotiated.
1014
See note 19.
232
C9.2: Deciphering Roman colour-codes
Not all colours belonging to Roman society can be ascribed a materiality; at least not one which can
be successfully singled out and identified. But some colours, such as purpura, which has already
been debated above in C7.2 in relation to the Roman toga, provide enough evidence to explore how
certain colour materialities may have developed in Roman society over time.
Objective vs. abstract colour appreciation
Investigation has shown that humans are able to discriminate between multitudes of colours,
because the human brain is able to establish basic codes for representing colours.1015 Unfortunately
the precise nature of such codes remains poorly understood. Psychophysical and electrophysical
studies have shown that humans are able to see colours, because light excites the eye at different
wavelengths.1016 The human eye encodes the colours through cone responses in the retina; but each
encoding is defined in relation to the previous and the cone responses are therefore constantly
developing and adjusting their sensitivity according to previous colour experiences.1017 In order to
create efficient colour-codes the brain extracts certain points from the cone responses which it
transfers into a unique colour-code. How the human mind perceives colours from its surrounding
environments is therefore the result of how the brain simplifies and translates the millions of
encoded colour responses from the retina.1018 The human brain does therefore not produce uniform
colour-codes; it extracts from the individually unique cone responses produced in the retina, and
defines them relating to previous experiences.
As a biological organism, the basic function of human colour perception has not changed drastically
on – a physical level – since the Roman Empire. We can therefore assume that the human eye was
equally excited by light then, as it is now, and equally able to encode different wavelengths through
the retina. But as the cones in the retina understands colour according to previous experiences, we
cannot assume that the Roman colour appreciation was the same as it is today. As colours are
fundamentally contextual phenomena, which is dependent on the sensory information that emanates
simultaneously from its surroundings, the main premise for the successful application of a
constructed colour-code is that it is appropriated by temporal and spatial social contexts.
1015
Hurlbert 1991, 191.
Hurlbert 1991, 191; Rizzi and Bonanomi 2012, 84-88; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 130-134.
1017
Rizzi and Bonanomi 2012; Hurlbert and Ling 2012, 131.
1018
How the brain does that in practice is, however, much debated by scholars. For more details see Hurlbert 1991.
1016
233
The above described simplification and interpretation, which the brain performs when extracting the
responses from the retina can primarily be glimpsed through language.1019 Therefore one of the
main approaches to understand colour appreciation in a cultural context has been studying the
rhetorical use of colour terms. The revolutionizing and much debated monograph by Berlin and Kay
from 1969 claimed that all human beings are ‘hardwired’ to recognize certain perceptually shared
colours, which are present in colour vocabularies crossing cultures around the world.1020 But can
such a ‘hardwired’ perception of colours also be recognized in cultures of earlier times?
Research into the rhetorical use of Latin colour terms, by Mark Bradley, suggests that, at least in a
rhetorical or symbolic sense, Romans appreciated colours as relating to much more than hue.1021
Based on written texts, and how Latin colour terminologies are used as adjectives to evoke specific
associations, Bradley argues in his monograph from 2009 that the Romans lacked abstract hue
conceptions.1022 Bradley concludes that the overall rhetorical use of colours therefore seem to have
been less flexible and more closely connected to primary objects than modern English colour
terminology.1023 Balancing between the ‘objective’ (evoking an object) and the ‘abstract’ (colour
existing in its own right), the Roman rhetorical use of different colour terms gravitated mostly
towards the ‘objective’, creating a ‘cultural magnetic force’ surrounding specific colour properties
tying them to a primary object.1024 Today we may use the colour properties of ‘blue’ freely and
without relating the colour term to any specific object. But to the Romans most colour terms needed
to be directly associated with its primary object; some more than others.
Where the rhetorical use of colour terms meets painted colour-codes: Is shining a colour?
Because of this strong relation between object and colour term, scholars have yet to provide a
suitable translation of certain Roman colour terms. One of these is the term purpura, or purpureus.
The terms purpura/ purpureus are used as adjectives and nouns and are traditionally interpreted as
relating to textiles coloured by purpura dye. Manufacturing of the dye can be traced from the early
Minoan societies at Crete and Akrotiri to the fall of Constantinople (see A1.3), and throughout this
wide chronological frame, textiles dyed with purpura were used as important signifiers of social
1019
Biggam 2012, 2.
Berlin and Kay 1969; Dedrick 1996; Biggam 2012, 20-43.
1021
Bradley 2009B; Bradley forthcoming.
1022
Bradley 2009B,
1023
Bradley 2009B, 220-222.
1024
Bradleu 2009B, 221-222.
1020
234
and economic status and power. Yet, identifying the chromatic identity of textiles coloured by
purpura remains unsolved. Not only were the properties of the colour which the dye provided the
real-life textile, dependent on the process of producing the dye and the fibres of the textile, the dye
was also commonly diluted and altered into less expensive versions, as well as copied and replaced
by other less-expensive colourants (see C7.2). Recognising the colour purpura is therefore
troublesome, especially if the Romans themselves lacked abstract hue conceptions.
The recurring use of purpureus as adjective in Latin texts is describing quite unrelated
phenomena1025, which has caused modern scholars to suggest that the term may not refer to an exact
hue (such as red or purple); but perhaps more so to a certain brightness or shine which was related
to the effects provided by the dye itself.1026 In his description of purpura Vitruvius emphasises how
the colour of a purpura-dyed textile reacted to light above hue suggesting that the term purpura was
not only used to refer to a certain hue but also, and perhaps more importantly, to a shiny texture.1027
This is supported by Pliny the Elder who notes that purpura added radiance to every garment.1028
Using purpureus as an adjective to emphasise shine instead of a hue may therefore suggest that the
effects of the purpura dye itself was appreciated by the Romans for providing quite versatile colour
effects, ranging broadly in hue and saturation, but united in coveted shiny textures.1029
The materiality of purpura: where pigment meets dye and the ’idea’ of colour
Section C7.2 above discussed the painted sculpted toga on the statue of Fundilius, the statues from
Formia and Tarragona and the statue of Caligula, all dating to the first century CE. The highly
versatile and complex ways of expression, which purpura dyed garments offered – or garments
dyed with any other colorant aspiring towards the visual effects of purpura – may have been
employed in the semiotic vocabularies of all four painted marble portrait sculptures. Inspired by and
1025
For a examples of such uses see Gipper 1964, 57; Edgeworth 1979, 282-289; Bradley 2009B, 48-49.
‘Vieles spricht dafür, dass das früh entlehnte purpureus von Anfang an schon primär als Farbwort verstanden
wurde. Manche Dichter, z. B. Vergil, ersetzen stellenweise geradezu purpureus durch das zentrale lateinische Rotwort
ruber. (…) Wenn purpureus hier noch als Steigerung von candidus, welches gerade den schimmernden Glanz des
weissen Schnees hervorhebt, verstanden warden sollte, dann ist sicher kein Farbwert, schwerlich aber auch ein
Glanzwert gemeint gewesen.’ Gipper 1964, 57-58. ‘The belief that ‘purpureus’ sometimes means ‘bright’ can only be
justified on the basis of non-imitative passages in which the ‘redness’ meaning cannot reasonably be taken. Such
passages do not appear to exist.’ Edgeworth 1979, 291. ‘Edgeworth’s hues do away with elaborate renderings of
purpureus, but ‘red’ seems even less satisfactory. (…) Edgeworth rightly draws attention to the futility of denying what
we call ‘colour’ content in this category. Pupureus does not mean ‘bright’. Nor does it make any sense (in our terms) as
‘red’ or ‘purple’. To solve the riddle we must first seek different visual co-ordinates.’ Bradley 2009B, 49-50.
1027
Vitr.De Arc.7.13; Bradley 2009B, 190-193; Bradley 2013, 127.
1028
Plin. HN, 9. 127. Bradley 2009B, 194-195.
1029
Bradley 2009B, 50, 189; Bradley 2013, 127.
1026
235
gravitating towards the different chromatic scales of purpura dyed textiles the colour-coded and
stereotypically recognisable versions expressed in the painted statuary contributed to a development
of a materiality of the ‘colour’ purpura during the first century CE. The ‘colour’ – or an ‘idea’ of the
object which was the colour – accumulated its own biography over time, which was communicated
and sustained equally through fashion as well as the visual arts and written texts.
The production and consumption of dyes and pigments were closely related during the Roman
Empire, as they all originated from the same basic natural resources. Purpurissum pigment was, for
example, purpura dyed clay or chalk grinded and processed into a pigment powder. Also, results
from examinations of the earliest textiles of yellowish and brownish red hues found at Egypt and
Mesopotamia have shown that the red hues were obtained by dying the fabrics with ochres
processed into dye form.1030 And based on what the archaeological evidence has been able to show,
madder lake was used both as dye and pigment from the very beginning of its consumption.1031
Furthermore the term amethystine, as used by Martial in the late first century BCE, may have
referred to a dye which sought to imitate the visual effects of the precious violet mineral stone,
amethyst, which was a form of transparent quartz used for gemstones.1032 Finally, and as mentioned
above, Pliny the Elder notes how the temple of Minerva at Elis was painted with a milk and saffron
paint mixture, the latter commonly used for dyeing textiles but in this case apparently used in
pigment form and in a paint mixture which could not only be smelled but also tasted.1033
Such material overlap in the use of pigments and dyes in Mediterranean cultures suggests that
textiles as well as sculptures reproduced similar visual effects covering the same chromatic scales,
and thereby re-enforcing a general collective colour appreciation within Roman societies. The use
of pigments for painting garments on sculptures needs therefore not always to be considered as
imitations of the dyed textiles. As mentioned in C7.1 white marbles offered clean slates upon which
the Roman craftsmen and commissioner were able to re-imagine the most desired optical effects.
The versatile visual languages which purpura dye – or any other dye – provided the different
Roman fabrics could be minutely performed and given unique, creative expressions which may not
1030
Chenciner 2000, 33-34.
The oldest evidence for the artificial use of the organic substance as colour-enhancer is in pigment form (first half of
the 15th century BCE), while evidence for the use of it as dye does – so far – not appear before a hundred years later (ca.
1370 BCE). See A1.3. Colour terms which cover madder lake is traced in Egyptian and Babylonian written texts from
the early second millennia BCE. Chenciner 2000, 32-36.
1032
‘Admirer as he is of sad-coloured cloaks, and clad in Baetic wool and in grey, one who thinks that men in scarlet are
not men at all, and styles violet mantles (amethystinasque) the vesture of women, (…)’ Martial, Ep., 1.96. Nero
prohibited the common use of both purpura and “amethystine” dyes, restricting them to imperial use only. Goldman
2013, 50-51.
1033
Plin., HN, 36.177. Bradley 2014.
1031
236
even have been directly paralleled in current Roman fashion. Most fine-grained, elastic and
luminous marble types, such as the Afyon marble used for statue of Fundilius combined with highquality pigments were able to offer a visual appeal matching the coveted shining effects provided by
the most expensive fabrics -perhaps even succeeding them. The shine of the fine-grained Afyon
marble echoed a coveted ideal, vivid brightness of the toga textiles, worn by distinguished Roman
citizens who possessed the resources to properly take care of their togas1034, while the saturated
reddish/orange hue of the applied paint layer provided the appropriate ‘purpura’ hue to a toga worn
by a Roman freedman.
The motivations behind the artistic use of colour-codes on Roman white marble sculptures were
intertwined with those behind the colour effects of the textiles, referring to an overall material
culture of colours, or ‘ideas of colour’. As such the garments which the people wore and the
polychrome sculptures they painted reflect similar patterns of colour categorization and
appreciation. The one was therefore not more ‘real’ than the other: on the contrary both dyed
textiles and painted marble stones were experienced with the same modes of sensory perceptions,
including seeing, touching, smelling and – as cited by Pliny the Elder above – even tasting.1035
C9.3: ‘The humility of colours’ : colours as social agents
Chapter 3 and Chapter 6 discussed how Miller defined materiality by referring to his take on
material culture. Miller argues that the most powerful aspect of things is when they fade out of
focus of their human observer. The things are what surrounds and habituate us; but it is only when
we do not see them that they can impose their actions as social agents. This is what Miller termed
the ‘humility of things’ and which I suggest can be applied to colours as well.1036
Colours constantly surround us, guide us, construct us and challenge us by their mere existence.
Sometimes we recognize their presence (a brightly coloured sweater, a beautifully arranged dinner
plate, a comfortable coloured couch), but most of the time we are constructed by them on a
subconscious level (changing traffic lights, the pale blue painted walls in the hospital waiting room,
etc.). And this is where colours are the most powerful. This is where colours becomes more than
bearers of complex semiotic, supra-semiotic and post-semiotic meanings, and assume the role as
social agents actively participating in shaping and developing human relations.
1034
One of the final steps of producing the toga fabric was folding, smoothening and flattening the large piece of textile.
See B4.3. Granger-Taylor 1987, 120-121.
1035
Bradley 2013; Bradley 2014.
1036
Miller 2005, 5.
237
The previous chapters have shown that colours were absolutely vital to the overall visual purposes
of the marble portraits. The colours constructed how the portraits were perceived and recognized,
both on a conscious level, as an actual visual language orchestrating specific readings on behalf of
the sitter and/or commissioner of the portraits. To the general research into Roman portraiture the
painted polychromy is therefore essential to any speculations on how the portraits were produced,
circulated and experienced. The colours communicated important social roles, such as what appears
to have been normative age- and gender roles; as well as cultural signifiers which were encoded in
the constructed colour properties of the paint mixtures used for sculpted hair, skin and eyes. But
what is also very much of the essence to all future research into the plastic portrait is how the
painted finish not only completed but also extended and transcended the sculpted form. In particular
replicas depicting the same person, or aspiring towards visual assimilation with contemporary or
previous royal personalities, could be painted differently. Similarly portraits with different coiffures
could be given the same colour of hair uniting them visually. This very much confronts traditional
methodological approaches such as Zeitgesicht and Bildnisangleichung, which will, in the light of
the advancing polychromy research, need to be revised and adjusted.
The painted finish of the portraits of Case Studies 1 and 2 actively challenged the Roman viewer’s
ability to organize his/her visual field. The colour-codes demanded a certain level of systematic,
visual selection and extraction which primarily relied on the viewers (largely intuitive and
subconscious) ability to recognize and remember from previous encounters with real life and,
equally important, artistic imitations thereof. Such emotional impact was largely subconscious and
can be very difficult to measure. Chapter 8 touched upon some main issues, which will need to be
explored more in the future, including how the painted marble portraits aspired towards levels of
life-likeness. Assuming that the painted marble portraits first and foremost sought to conform into
what the viewer expected to see, it seems likely that their visual end goal was to be accepted as
pleasing and not appalling, which I discussed above by using Mori’s theory of the Uncanny Valley.
The similar hair colours on the male portraits, except those of the youth (cat. No. 10 and 11)
reproduced a familiar Roman ethnic or racial code. The stereotypic recognisability of the colour
properties of the paint mixtures – and their appropriate relation to the sculptural form – would have
made the hair colours fade out of focus by conforming perfectly to what the viewer would have
expected to see. The out-of-focus, reddish-brown hued painted finish of the hair on the male
238
portraits conformed to a constructed ideal; not necessarily an ideal associated with real life ‘Roman’
hair but an ideal conformed into what the viewer expected from a painted marble sculpture.
The same was the case with the strikingly blond hair of Quinta and the unidentified Roman woman.
Although both hair colours were mixed to perform bright hues and applied on elaborately executed
sculptural forms both conformed to certain stereotypic representations of coveted female hair
colours, which the written sources suggests were particularly popular during the first centuries BCE
and CE. The power of the associations connected to the materiality of the ‘blond’ hair colours was
therefore in this case hiding in the eye-catching qualities of the paint mixtures.
Colours: the familiar unfamiliar
The materiality of colour is the supra-semiotic meaning of colours. All colours on the painted
marble portraits from Case Studies 1 and 2 were specifically chosen and coded to convey
intentional semiotic messages. But since colour is – and presumably always has been – largely
sensory, they work on many different levels, from the micro to the macro perspective, and from the
conscious to the subconscious, transcending the individual and the collective as well.
Miller argues in his monograph from 2010 that the studies of materiality and material cultures need
to move away from the dominating focus on meaning and to a larger emphasis on what matters.1037
Colours are constructed by humans; but they are equally constructing human social relations. I find
that what is essential, at least at the current stage of research into sculptural polychromy, is not so
much the constructed colour properties of the paint mixtures applied onto the white marble portraits
and their specific semiotic purposes, but instead the indefinable and uncontrollable nature of colours
and their ability to adjust, alter, transcend and completely reinvent the visual languages of the
sculpted marbles – and why these untameable qualities were so alluring to the Roman craftsmen
and the audience to which their sculptural works were intended.
What matters to our knowledge of the applied paint effects is therefore how the colours on the
Roman white marble sculptures could be switched – sometimes by small and seemingly irrelevant
adjustments of their properties (for example the addition of cinnabar to a given pain mixture). To
modern day scholars such semiotic flexibility is, admittedly, difficult to securely fix and interpret.
The difficulties evolved with understanding how the Romans applied and experienced colours on
marble sculptures are predominantly the materiality and material biographies which most colours
1037
Miller 2010, 125.
239
accumulate over time (the ‘achromatic baggage’ as termed by Bradley1038), and the alluring
familiarity of colour properties which may seem accustomed, but in fact are not. I may be tempted
to compare the golden, ‘blond’ yellowish-red hair colour of Quinta and the youth to modern day
differences in ‘blond’ hair (naturally, dyed, bleached and so on), but this interpretation will be
nothing but a crude simplification constructed by the wide material biography which different
colour properties relating to ‘blond’ have accumulated in recent modern Western societies. If we are
to understand the true nature of colours, their materiality, we must seek beyond our own cognitive
coordinates.
To the modern as well as the ancient Roman spectator colours are apparent; however extremely
difficult to fix and define. They are familiar; however constantly changing. ‘Ideas’ of colours have
developed in all societies; however they are not purely constructed internally in the human mind,
they are also a product of external environments. Colours are strong social agents, and their major
power seems to be their ability to (dis)locate themselves within of the visual field of the human
observer. They hide as ‘blind spots’ or ‘negative hallucinations’ from most visual narratives. So
which constructs the other: the human agent or the ever changing colour properties? The answer
seems impossible to locate. But what remains indisputable is the fact that colours are imperative to
all human life.
Modern scholarly deciphering of the multiple purposes of colours on marble sculptures should not
be a way of ascribing new, yet comfortable, meaning to well-known iconic ancient art forms which
fit with already established categories of knowledge. Modern scholars should not be swayed by the
familiarity of colour use to impose recognisable meaning. They should push the boundaries of the
empirical comfort zone, and reach beyond the physical colour properties to seek information about
the society to which they were originally intended. Colours offer a unique insight into how a given
society ascribes value to the world surrounding them. As I have argued throughout this dissertation
the physical matter that are colours matters, but they form only the tip of iceberg. And it is what lies
beneath which should preferably continue to be the subject of dedicated scholarly attention in the
future.
1038
Bradley 2009B, 227.
240
CONCLUSION
COLOUR - AND NOW WHAT?
Examining the purposes of polychrome marble portraits is indeed a complicated research effort.
Colours on ancient Roman white marble sculptures pose a serious challenge to the modern scholar.
Though one tells oneself that one is not affected by neo-classicists’ appreciation of the fragmented
Roman marble portraits, their presence continues to impose itself in almost every aspect of the reiterative interpretations of their analysed paint remains presented throughout this dissertation. The
modern scholar must wrestle the familiar from the highly unfamiliar: the iconic marble sculptures
which have been the object of desire to collectors, antiquarians and scholars for decades; and the
painted colours which have not been an integrated part of ancient marble sculptures, or sculptures in
general, for decades.
But as I have put forth, and which many interdisciplinary scholarly research projects throughout the
world will support: colour was an essential part of ancient marble sculptures and architectural
monuments. In all their different material properties, originating from various – more or less –
naturally occurring resources, colours were –and still is- very much an integral part of human
everyday life. In relation to the white marble portraits concerning this dissertation, colours not only
effectively completed the sculpted form; they also defined, transcended and elevated it.
Stating that colours are important is therefore not difficult. Yet, colours remain a troublesome
branch of inquiry, which scholars of white marble sculpture continue to struggle to incorporate. In
museum galleries colours can be integrated by experimental reconstructions. Unfortunately, using
those reconstructions as actual evidence testifying to the glory of what coloured marbles once
looked like is not yet possible. Depending on whom you speak with, the reconstructions are either
regarded as catastrophes doing little good in constructing a new appreciation of colour on sculpture,
or they provoke and push the limits for what we thought we once knew of ancient marbles. Rarely
do they cause admiration of the highly complex lost embodied knowledge of producing painted
marble sculptures which were once possessed by the ancient craftsmen.
When the NCG was built to house the expanding collections of ancient sculptures accumulated by
Carl Jacobsen during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the structure of the galleries, including
the painting of the walls and the mosaics laid out on the floors, were staged around the white
marbles. The ancient sculptures were bought because of their value as works of art and largely put
on display to create pleasing encounters. As fragmented pieces resembling great cultures from the
241
past, they have been cleaned, restored and even de-restored over the past hundred years. They are
cared for and adjusted to what the viewer expects to see when s/he enters the museum; they are
fragmented yet very much controlled through manipulated maintenance and displays. Knowledge of
colours may be integrated in their display during temporal exhibitions; but the constructed ruins are
what are here to stay.
In the late 19th century, colours on ancient sculptures and architecture were very popular amongst
scholars, and finds such as the Augustus from Prima Porta (fig. 0:1) caused excitement and lively
debates throughout the archaeological and art historical disciplines.1039 For various reasons this
interest soon faded away.Today scholars are aided with advancing technological equipment, which
can map and explore the remaining polychromy on ancient marble sculptures; even colours that
cannot be traced with the naked eye. This is, of course, a huge improvement from the research
conducted in the 19th century. However, the dominance of the white marble will prevail if we do not
fully acknowledge the colours; not just as curious additions to the white marbles but as quite
essential to their original purposes. Colours must be taught at the universities and effectively
communicated in museum galleries if they are to be taken seriously enough to survive and continue
beyond the attention which they given right now. If not, the colours will, again, fade away.
1039
Brinkmann 2014, 28.
242
ABSTRACT
The PhD dissertation, which is a collaboration between the University of Copenhagen (classical
archeology at the SAXO Institute at the Faculty of Humanities) and Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (NCG)
tackles a new and unexplored topic: The painting of the ancient Roman portraits in white marble.
Exploring the polychromy of ancient sculpture is a new but rapidly growing research field which
enjoys international recognition. With the help of modern technology, ancient sculptures (mostly in
the white marble, but also of terracotta, bronze, wood, limestone) are studied in museum contexts
throughout the world. New knowledge concerning colours on ancient sculptures is added daily; a
knowledge that accumulates faster than it can be published, making the international networks, that
the NCG is rooted is, important for upgrading the skills of the studies herein.
The main goal set for this dissertation is to ground the studies of the color on ancient Roman marble
portraits within the established research, by promoting colour; not only as a curiosity that appears
from time to time and fascinates the learned as well as generally curious museum visitors, but as an
essential premise of our basic understanding of the portrait's original features. This is accomplished
by following the theory that all painted finishes of white marble portraits were engineered colorcodes that were - more or less- deliberately manipulated to construct special readings. Thus the
purposes of the nature of the painted finish were to communicate important messages on behalf of
the agencies that were involved in the production of the individual portraits; such as artists'
craftsmanship qualities and knowledge of the materials, the commissioners economic resources and
social position, and not least the sitter’s social and cultural identities.
Although colour in modern Western cultures is not associated with a marble sculpture, it was very
much connected thereto in antiquity. The colour extended, completed and transcended the sculptural
form. However, due to the Western researcher's general strangeness when facing the painting of
marble, it is a recurring challenge to explore the originally intended sensual experience with the
colour of a three-dimensional shape. This has led to a general research emphasis on above-outlined
semiotic benefits and less focus on the original aesthetic and appealing experiences. This
dissertation will therefore strengthen the understanding of this issue by also exploring other
materials that were used for three-dimensional portraits during the Roman Empire, and examine
how the polychrome marble portraits not only competed with the visual expressions of other
materials (including metals, clay, wax, wood) but also how it adapted itself to a macroscopic
material culture constructed by an idea of a general, visual Roman aesthetics.
243
RESUME
PhD afhandlingen, som er et samarbejde mellem Københavns Universitet (klassisk arkæologi ved
SAXO-instituttet på Humanistisk Fakultet) og Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (NCG) tager fat på et nyt og
uudforsket emne: Bemalingen af antikke, romerske portrætter i hvidt marmor. Udforskningen af
bemalingen af antik skulptur er et nyt men hurtigt voksende forskningsfelt som nyder international
bevågenhed. Med hjælp fra moderne teknologi bliver antikke skulpturer (fortrinsvist i hvidt
marmor, men også af terrakotta, bronze, træ og kalksten) undersøgt i museale kontekster verden
over. Ny viden om bemalingen af antik skulptur tilføjes dagligt; en viden som akkumuleres
hurtigere end den kan blive publiceret, hvilket gør de internationale netværker, som NCG er
forankret i, vigtige for opkvalificeringen af studier heri.
Målet for denne afhandling er at forankre udforskningen af farven på antikke, romerske marmor
portrætter i den etablerede forskning ved at promovere farven; ikke blot som et kuriosum der fra tid
til anden dukker op og fascinerer de faglærte så vel som ufaglærte museumsgæster, men som en
afgørende præmis for vores grundlæggende forståelse af portrættets oprindelige funktioner. Dette
sker ud fra teorien om at al bemaling af hvide marmor portrætter var konstruerede farve-koder, som
var – mere eller mindre- bevidst manipulerede med henblik på at konstruere særlige læsninger.
Således var bemalingens karakter med til at kommunikere vigtige budskaber på vegne af de
agenturer, der var involverede i produktionen af det enkelte portræt; såsom kunsternes
håndværksmæssige egenskaber og kendskaber til materialerne, opkøberens økonomiske ressourcer
og sociale position, og ikke mindst den portrætteredes sociale og kulturelle identiteter.
Selvom farve i moderne vestlige kulturer ikke er associeret med marmor skulpturer, var den i høj
grad forbundet hermed i antikken. Farven forlængede, fuldendte og transcenderede den skulpturelle
form. Men grundet den vestlige forskers generelle fremmedhed overfor bemalingen af marmor er
det en tilbagevendende udfordring at udforske den oprindeligt tiltænkte sanselige oplevelse med
farven på en tredimensionel form. Dette har medført en generel forskningsmæssig vægt på ovenfor
skitserede semiotiske fordele, og mindre fokus på den oprindelige æstetiske og appellerende
oplevelse. Afhandlingen vil derfor udbygge forståelsen af dette aspekt ved også at udforske andre
materialer, som blev anvendt til tredimensionelle portrætter i det romerske imperium, og undersøge
hvordan de polykrome marmorportrætter ikke blot konkurrerede med de visuelle udtryk som andre
materialer (herunder metaller, ler, voks, træ) men også hvordan den tilpassede sig en makroskopisk
materiel kultur der var styret af en ide om en overordnet, visuel romersk æstetik.
244
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