Have you ever spent time comparing ancient Roman portraits (whether statues, busts, or coins) and wondered why this emperor or that consul doesn’t always look quite the same, even if he is supposed to be represented at about the same age? On one the nose looks straight instead of aquiline, and on another the eyes seem too small and deeply set.
Although the degree of skill of an artist certainly plays a role, in many cases, especially of some imperial portraits of the first and second centuries AD, the answer is somewhat surprising: many were recycled from likenesses of previous emperors. The results would vary depending of a number of factors, one of them being how much the two individuals resembled each other.
But before going further on the issue of recycling, take a quick look at the history of Roman portraits, which is not only interesting but also a little misunderstood.
Some aristocratic Romans of the Republic (especially in the second and first centuries BC) and of the early Empire (first century AD) were fascinated by all things Greek. They learned the Greek language and emulated Greek philosophy and even literature. But although it is often thought that Roman art is no more than a copy of Greek art, in reality that is not the case.
As early as the fifth century BC, the Greeks were already making portraits (especially statues and busts) in the Western sense. But they were less interested in presenting individuals as they looked in the flesh as in creating likenesses that made the individuals resemble the heroes of old.
For their part, in the fourth century BC, the Romans, influenced by Greeks, Etruscans, and even Egyptians, were developing a unique kind of portraits. Some have called them “realistic,” but this is not quite accurate. Rather, we should think of them as “ideal,” because, in addition to details of the person’s actual appearance, Roman artists used some abstract elements in order to convey virtues and values.
By the first century BC, portraiture had evolved into a new kind, “veristic,” or, as some have called it, “warts and all.” Wrinkles, thinning hair, and even bags under the eyes, all helped present an individual who wanted to appear “human” and who was especially interested in stressing old-fashioned Roman virtues (they had spent a lifetime working, and had no time for fun and games). The portraits were still not “real,” and some politicians went so far as to request extra wrinkles to show them as older and, allegedly, with much more experience and authority than younger politicians.
Of course, “veristic” portraits were not suited to the needs of emperors such as Augustus and his successors. Since their statues, placed all over the empire (in every forum, military camp, and elsewhere), were used as political propaganda, communicated their power, and justified their claim to rule, the emperors had to be very careful to create an image exactly as they wanted to be seen by the inhabitants of Rome.
Augustus (14 BC-27 AD), when he came to power, combined certain “messages” contained in “veristic” portraiture, such as old-fashioned Roman discipline and austerity, with others contained in Greek, or more accurately, Hellenistic ruler portraiture. These included the almost divine or “superhuman” power of kings, as well as superior intellect (think about images of Alexander the Great). The result was a “neoclassical” portrait with a powerful message: “I am not only the emperor, but I am good looking, and in my nicely-designed statues, with harmonious proportions, you see my dignity which is remote, because I am above you and therefore unapproachable.” His immediate successors, of course, imitated his portraits, with slight modifications, in order to create their own identity.
But what happened when an emperor fell from favor, especially if he had been not only feared but also loathed by the Romans? Then, in addition to attacking the emperor, the Romans went further and attacked his portraits as well. Bronze statues and coins with the emperor’s likeness could easily be melted down, but in the case of marble statues, they had to be smashed.
Recycling
Marble is expensive, so a good alternative to smashing statues was recycling them into someone else’s portrait. And it was very, very convenient that in Rome, as in Greece, the head and the body of a statue were typically fashioned separately, so that a head only needed to be removed and a new one inserted into the neck socket.
But the new head didn’t have to be entirely new. In fact, many existing heads and busts had previously represented three emperors in particular, the “bad” emperors Caligula (37-41 AD), Nero (54-68 AD), and Domitian (81-96 AD). There is also a case of a very well-known and very visibly-placed portrait statue of the emperor Constantine (306-337 AD) that originally represented his defeated predecessor Maxentius. The head and a few other parts of this colossal statue of Constantine are in the Palazzo dei Conservatori of the Capitoline Museum in Rome.
Why did recycling work?
Besides the obvious money-saving reason, recycling portraits erased the memory and, to the Roman mind, the identity of an emperor, because the portrait embodied him. As one art historian has said, statues functioned as psychological and legal surrogates for the emperor’s person.
Recycling and thus transforming portraits was in a way similar to airbrushing “undesirables” out of photographs in the modern world. This was done on a large scale by the Soviet dictator Stalin when one Bolshevik after another fell out of his favor and was eliminated by the regime.
The Roman sculptor was fortunate whenever the two individuals (the one represented in the original portrait and the one into whom it would be transformed) resembled one another. If that was not the case, he had to reshape the nose, the eyes, and the mouth. He had to shorten hair and sideburns when necessary. Perhaps he had to change the hairstyle substantially, in which case he added marble stucco (most of the time this has disappeared, but we still have the nails or metal pins which held it in place). He might have to cut in high cheekbones in order to create bags under the eyes of an older person.
The results were not always perfect. The portrait might not look quite like the emperor’s “official” portrait. The jaw-line might be too sharp, the face might be too flat, or even the head might be too small.
But the Romans apparently had a solution for everything. It did not matter too much that the features and the hairstyle did not correspond closely with those of the emperor represented in the new portrait. An accompanying inscription would have made his identity more than clear.
How can we tell if a portrait has been recycled?
A good starting point is to look at enough “official” portraits of an emperor and become familiar with his features. Then one can carefully examine the portraits with features that deviate from those. The most common place to find telltale traces of the original is the coiffure.
One good example of this is a portrait in the Cleveland Museum of Art. Originally an image of Nero, it was reworked into one of the emperor Vespasian (69-79 AD). But Vespasian was not only older than Nero (sixty years old at the time of his accession to power, versus Nero’s thirty when he died), he was not even related to Nero. There were no similarities between the two.
The artist who transformed the portrait could not do a very good job on Nero’s long, wavy hair. At the nape of Vespasian’s neck, there is still some evidence of Nero’s locks. The artist was also unable to reduce Nero’s sideburns as much as he should have, since Vespasian had much shorter ones. In addition, Nero had a receding lower lip, which is still present in the reworked portrait, even though Vespasian’s lower lip projected beyond his upper lip.
But art historians know that this is Vespasian for a number of reasons. The sculptor added various features from one of that emperor’s “official” portraits. This included horizontal wrinkles in the forehead, vertical frown lines, as well as a deep horizontal crease at the bridge of his aquiline nose (thus transforming Nero’s straight nose).
And wherever it is that this particular statue stood, it had an inscription that clearly identified him as the emperor Titus Flavius Vespasianus, “renewer of the city and the empire, restorer of the Capitol and various temples, and reformer of the army.”
If you are interested in reading more about the topic, here are some excellent sources:
Nodelman, Sheldon. “How to Read a Roman Portrait.” In Roman Art in Context: An Anthology.
Nodelman, Sheldon. “Roman Portraits: Introduction.” In Roman Portraits: Aspects of Self and Society, First Century BC – Third Century AD. A Loan Exhibition. Los Angeles: The Regents of the University of California, Loyola Marymount University, and the J. Paul Getty Museum 1980: 15-18.
Zanker, Paul. The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus, trans. Alan Shapiro. Ann Arbor, MI. The University of Michigan Press. 1988.
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