Day 51 - Marble Roman portrait head
May 31, 2018
This enormous galley (162) covers a wide swath of time and territory, from Hellenistic Greek objects, largely ones found in southern Italy around Taranto, to Roman statuary, includng a pretty phenomenal marble sarcophagus carved all over the front with figures of Dionysus and his followers. Many of the statues are in fragmentary form, missing heads, limbs, or both. You do get a sense of their beauty and power, but frankly, after the Borghese and Vatican collections, they are a bit disappointing. I also feel pressed for time to examine the holdings as closely as I'd like or I should.
Given the wealth of objects, I'm at something of a loss about what to write about. My first impulse is to write about a small terracotta incense burner in the form of five women in a circle, whose heads support trays on which the incense was laid. What's interesting to me is that the figures are painted: their clothing red and gold, their hair brown. As often as I've read that marble statues were painted, this small object has enabled me to able to imagine, perhaps for the first time, the vividness of the painting.
But I think what will live with me is the realism of the portrait heads, and today's object, which dates from the first century C.E., exemplifies this. The subject, whose identity is apparently unknown, is depicted in marble, somewhat over life size. From the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead and the crow's feet around his eyes, his hollowed cheeks and his corded neck, he appears to be in his 60s, at least. But he also appears to be at the height of his powers, a force to be reckoned with. His downturned mouth suggests that you wouldn't want to cross him. He isn't in the least idealized, but that is just what I like so much about these busts, whose sculptors remind us of and accept our physical imperfections instead of presenting men as gods or young athletes with perfect bodies.
Given the wealth of objects, I'm at something of a loss about what to write about. My first impulse is to write about a small terracotta incense burner in the form of five women in a circle, whose heads support trays on which the incense was laid. What's interesting to me is that the figures are painted: their clothing red and gold, their hair brown. As often as I've read that marble statues were painted, this small object has enabled me to able to imagine, perhaps for the first time, the vividness of the painting.
But I think what will live with me is the realism of the portrait heads, and today's object, which dates from the first century C.E., exemplifies this. The subject, whose identity is apparently unknown, is depicted in marble, somewhat over life size. From the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead and the crow's feet around his eyes, his hollowed cheeks and his corded neck, he appears to be in his 60s, at least. But he also appears to be at the height of his powers, a force to be reckoned with. His downturned mouth suggests that you wouldn't want to cross him. He isn't in the least idealized, but that is just what I like so much about these busts, whose sculptors remind us of and accept our physical imperfections instead of presenting men as gods or young athletes with perfect bodies.
later
I wonder whether the subject actually saw his portrait in marble, and if so, what he thought about it. For us, it takes a certain amount of courage to see ourselves as others see us, rather than through the airbrushing lenses we wear when we look in the mirror. (I suppose I should use the first person singular rather than plural, if I am to be honest.) On the other hand, such naturalistic portraits were apparently all the rage in first-century Rome, so the subject could, at a minimum, see himself as in step with prevailing artistic currents and pride himself on that score.
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