A Few Rooms of Ancient Art

I might be misremembering, but I believe the Uffizi Gallery had a hallway that featured busts of every Roman emperor, plus a good many of their wives, down at least to Severus Alexander (d. AD 235), in chronological order. I spent a while there, looking over them all.

The Uffizi array included famed and long-lasting rulers (e.g., Augustus) but also obscure short-timers whose biographies tend to end with “assassinated by…” (e.g., Didius Julianus (d. AD 193), the rich mope who bought the office from the highly untrustworthy Praetorian Guard and held it for all of 66 days in 193).

I thought of all those emperor busts when I took a look at Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius on Saturday. Art Institute of ChicagoArt Institute of Chicago

Second century AD, no doubt part of what would later be called propaganda: the effort to let the Roman people feel the presence of their rulers. These two busts are among the ancient Roman artworks on display at the Art Institute of Chicago, along with works by Greek, Egyptian and other peoples.

It isn’t a huge collection, though sizable enough. If you put together the ancient art found at Art Institute and the Field Museum and the Oriental Institute Museum, that might be a British Museum- or Pergamon Museum-class collection, but no matter. I always enjoy strolling around the Art Institute’s ancient gallery, which is back a fair ways from the main entrance, in four rooms surrounding a peristyle-like courtyard, though that is a story down.

Besides emperors, you’ll see emperor-adjacent figures, such as Antinous, done up as Osiris, 2nd century AD of course.Art Institute of Chicago

Beloved by Hadrian, Antinous took a swim in the Nile one day in AD 130 and drowned. Hadrian founded the nearby city of Antinoupolis in his honor (it’s a minor ruin these days) and proclaimed him a god — the sort of thing a grieving emperor could do in those days.

A Roman copy of a Greek statue of Sophocles, ca. AD 100.Art Institute of Chicago

Hercules, 1st century AD.Art Institute of Chicago

My cohort learned of Hercules through cartoons. Could have done worse, I guess.

A story never animated for children, as far as I know: Leda and the Swan, 1st or 2nd century AD. A story that nevertheless reverberates down the centuries.Art Institute of Chicago

Who doesn’t like ancient mosaics? I like to think these 2nd-century AD works were part of an ancient tavern that served food.Art Institute of Chicago Art Institute of Chicago

A sampling of Greek vases are on display as well. These black-figure works are from the sixth century BC, probably for storing wine. In vino veritas, though in this case that would be Ἐν οἴνῳ ἀλήθεια (En oinō alētheia), and I won’t pretend I didn’t have to look that up.Art Institute of Chicago Art Institute of Chicago

I always visit the coin case. Here’s a silver tetradrachm minted in the 2nd century BC in Asia Minor, depicting Apollo. Such detailed work for something struck by hand.Art Institute of Chicago

Then there’s this — creature.Art Institute of Chicago

Statue of a Young Satyr Wearing a Theater Mask of Silenus, ca. 1st century AD, the museum sign says (and he’s putting his hand through the mask). You need to watch out for those young satyrs. They’re always up to something.

The Getty Villa

I’m connected on Facebook with a man named Rolf Achilles. I took a noncredit class he taught on Chicago history at the Newberry Library in the late 1980s. I think he also attended the Harvest Dinner Party at my apartment on October 22, 1988, but I’m not sure — a lot of people were there. Not sure I’ve seen him since then, or whether he’d remember me if he saw me.

Rolf’s an art historian, and often publishes images of fine art on Facebook. Not long ago, he posted pictures of items on display at the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, California. I also happened to be planning my trip to California at the time. Almost at once I knew I wanted to see the place, along with the Getty Center. Thanks, Rolf.

When the time came, on the afternoon of February 23, I only had time for one of them. I decided on the Getty Villa. Of course I did. It offers a collection of ancient art.
Getty Villa entranceOil billionaire and notorious tightwad J. Paul Getty had the property developed in the 1970s to house his large collection of ancient Greek, Roman and Etruscan art. Tight-fisted Getty might have been in many things, but not when it came to the sumptuous villa. The structure, on the hills overlooking the Pacific, is a re-creation of a specific villa in Herculaneum, the Villa of the Papyri, which wasn’t just any Roman country villa, but among the poshest known.

Apparently the old man died before the villa was completed, or at least he never went to see it. Too bad for him. The villa was opened to the public as a museum for a short time, but soon closed and wasn’t re-opened until 2006, after some additions to the grounds.

Langdon Wilson Architects did the original design. “Architects looked closely at the partial excavation of the Villa dei Papiri and at other ancient Roman houses in Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Stabiae to influence the design,” the Getty web site says. “The scale, appearance, and some of the materials of the Getty Villa are taken from the Villa dei Papiri, as is the floor plan, though it is a mirror of the original.”

In 2006, Machado Silvetti renovated the villa and added a nearby complex of buildings, such as a cafe, museum store and auditorium. These buildings set the pattern for your approach to the Getty Villa. After parking at some distance, you walk to a bank of elevators or flight of stairs that take you to a elevated path to the villa. Then you have to go back down (part of the way) to enter the villa — via a 500-seat outdoor amphitheater, which was also part of the addition.

In this shot, the amphitheater is to the left, the entrance to the right.
Getty VillaThe entrance. I decided to go in and look at the building and grounds first, and then the works of art on display.
Getty Villa main entranceThe entrance leads to the Atrium, a splendid introduction to the structure that has rooms off each side, exhibiting art. Then the structure opens up into an open-air Inner Peristyle.

Getty Villa Inner Peristyle

Getty Villa Inner PeristyleGetty Villa Inner Peristyle“This type of space was common in the second century B.C., when the main structure of the ancient villa was built,” signage in the peristyle says. “The Getty Villa’s garden is lushly planted with a variety of annuals and perennials bordered with hedges. The colonnade is paved the terrazzo, a mosaic flooring… A long, narrow pool emphasizes the east-west axis of the Getty Villa. Statues of young women, reproductions of ancient bronze sculptures found at the Villa dei Papiri, are set around the pool.”

Exit the Inner Peristyle and you’re on a small balcony overlooking to Outer Peristyle. I stood there for a while, just gawking. It’s a gawk-worthy place.
Getty Villa Outer PeristyleThe top level of awe at the property, as far as I was concerned. The Atrium had been bronze and the Inner Peristyle had been silver. Now I was at the gold level.

Walk out into the Outer Peristyle and all the way to the far end, and you get a view of the Inner Peristyle that you came from.Getty Villa Outer PeristyleGetty Villa Outer PeristyleI quote at length a press release from the time the Getty Villa reopened in the mid-2000s that’s remarkably informative: “Designed by Denis L. Kurutz Associates, and implemented by kornrandolph, inc., the Getty Villa landscape takes into account the lush topography of the Malibu canyon.

“In addition to the historically accurate species found in the four gardens and in areas closest to the J. Paul Getty Museum building, the landscape design also features a mix of Mediterranean and native California varieties, local plants of the Santa Monica mountains, and plants from other parts of the world that grow in climates similar to that of Southern California.

“[The Outer Peristyle] is the Villa’s main garden, the largest and grandest of the four. Bronze sculpture and replicas of statues discovered at the remains of the first-century Villa dei Papiri have been placed in their ancient findspots…

“Just like its smaller neighbor, the Outer Peristyle is dominated by a large pool running down the center. Trimmed ivy topiaries frame the edges of the pool, which is crowned at its north end with two sculptural pomegranate trees and enclosed by 24 Grecian laurels on either side, mirroring the structural columns of the building.

“Four benches are available — two located in arbors draped in grape vines, and two nestled in pockets surrounded by hand-crafted wood trellises. Clusters of rose gardens are filled with ancient gallica, damask, and musk roses, while much of the ground is covered with a layer of sweet violet. Flowering perennials such as chamomile, daisy, rosemary, and sage are planted in abundance for variety and color, along with tulips, iris, Madonna lily, cyclamen, and narcissus.”

I understand that the Getty Villa isn’t an exact replica of the original in Herculaneum. For one thing, the Villa dei Papiri hasn’t been fully excavated. Also, buildings in our time need to be up to modern fire codes and so on. Still, as a re-creation of ancient Rome, this is likely to be the best I’ll ever see.

It’s also an excellent setting for the art collection. I’ve read that the once upon a time, Getty had some issues with stolen artwork. Or at least disputed provenance. Back around the time the villa re-opened, a number of objects were sent back to Italy and Greece. Hope that’s all behind the museum. What remains is amazing enough.

Might as well start with the museum’s star piece of art. Its Mona Lisa, you might say: the Lansdowne Hercules, Roman, ca. AD 125. (As the museum styles it — not CE.)
Getty Villa Lansdowne HerculesFound near Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli, so maybe the emperor himself saw it. In our time, the statue has its own room in the Getty Villa.

Other Roman statues include Leda and the Swan, AD 1st century.
Getty Villa LedaVenus, Roman, AD 2nd century.
Getty Villa VenusGetty Villa VenusCrouching Venus, Roman, AD 100-150
Getty Villa VenusJupiter, Roman, 1st century BC
Getty Villa JupiterPlus busts. A number of emperors. Such as Augustus.
Getty Villa AugustusTiberius.
Getty Villa TiberiusCaligula.
Getty Villa CaligulaAll very good, but I’ll never shake the feeling that those emperors looked like Brian Blessed, George Baker and John Hurt, respectively.

The Greek galleries excelled in pottery. All the pictured objects are Athenian, 6th or 5th century BC. Such as Storage Jar with Diomedes Slaying Rhesos.
Getty Villa Greek VaseMixing Vessel with Adonis and Goddesses.
Getty Villa Greek Mixing BowlPrize Vessel with a Chariot Race
Getty Villa Greek vaseAll in all, the ancient art collection is in the same league as those at the British Museum and the Pergamon Museum, in my amateur opinion, though I’ve barely scratched the surface of the many collections around the world.

The Courtyards of Plaka, 1987

Ah, Greek food. A fine thing. I’ve had it in a number of places, including Sydney, but unfortunately not Greece. There was none to be found in San Antonio of the 1970s, nor Nashville of the early ’80s, or at least I made no effort to find it.

March20.1987 (2)So I never had any until sometime in the mid-80s, probably in Chicago. One of the things to do during visits to the city in those days was seek out various kinds of food you couldn’t find at home, relying on word-of-mouth or luck in those pre-look-it-up-on-your-electronic-box days, to get commentary from a crowd of strangers. Will future generations believe people used to live like that?

Based on online evidence, the Courtyards of Plaka seems to be closed, but I’m not entirely sure, and don’t feel like calling them unless I’m going there. In any case, 30 years ago was long enough ago that a lot of restaurants still gave away matches, rather than cards. Now I sometimes can’t find either.

I picked up some matches when I went with my friends Neal and Michele, who lived in Chicago at the time. I just had moved there the month before. I don’t usually write anything on the matches or cards I find at restaurants, but for some reason I did that time. Maybe I should have more often.

March20.1987Can’t say that I remember much about that evening, though I’m sure we had a fine time. A short 1993 description of the restaurant in the Tribune said: “A lively place, especially once the live piano music gets underway. A handsome bar overlooks the stage-perfect for those who just stop in for a drink. The pretty, two-level dining room is awash in shades of terra cotta, with dark green accents; a series of white wooden slats suspended from the ceiling creates a canopy effect that makes you feel as though you’re eating outdoors.

“The menu lists a fair number of mezedes, the tapas-like tasting portions that lend themselves to grazing. There are also solid, sizable entrees: a pair of double lamb chops, a bit too chewy but quite tasty, and pair of expertly grilled, gently seasoned quail.”

Manto Mavrogenous, Face on the 2-Drachma Coin

Among many other things, coinage is (or can be) educational. Take Manto Mavrogenous (Μαντώ Μαυρογένους), for instance. Until recently I didn’t know who that was. Then I acquired a demonetized 2-drachma piece, which has her portrait on it, so I had to find out more. I still don’t know that much — it would take more digging than I want to spend on the matter right now — but I learned some some basics, from the likes of this site and this one.

Such as that she participated in an important way in the Greek War of Independence, especially by outfitting rebel forces at her own expense, and encouraging other wealthy Europeans to support the cause. Apparently she was the subject of a Greek movie in 1971, but her story cries out for a big-budget biopic in our time, with a few changes, of course. It’s one thing for her to be Demetrios Ypsilantis’ lover, but the script can also spice things up with a love triangle that involves Lord Byron as well, played by some handsome English actor. Did she ever really meet Lord Byron? Details, details.

The Hellenic Republic thought enough of her to put her on the 2 drachma coin from 1988 to 2001, which was retired when the country traded for euros (and a peck o’ trouble).
2 drachma2 drachmaIt’s a nice little coin, and unlike many copper-plated coins of recent vintage, such as the U.S. cent since 1982, it’s actually copper. The nautical design on the obverse (at least, I think it’s the observe) makes sense in the context of Manto Mavrogenous’ contributions to kicking Ottoman butt, a good bit of which involved raising and paying for ships to fight near Mykonos.

The Greeks: From Agamemnon to Alexander the Great

I’m not sure if it counts as a megashow, but the touring exhibit called The Greeks: From Agamemnon to Alexander the Great now at the Field Museum seems like a fairly big deal among museum shows. For one thing, it’s sizable enough, featuring a large assortment of sculpture, tools, vessels, jewelry, weapons, helmets, and more.

“Presented in chronological order, the exhibition begins with the Neolithic Period, around 6000 BC, and continues until the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BC, marking the end of the Classical period,” the Field Museum says. “Highlights of the exhibition include artifacts from the tombs of the first rulers of Mycenae… a burial that depicts the ritual of burial and sacrifice in a funeral pyre described by Homer in the Iliad, a replicated Illyrian warrior helmet that visitors may try on, grave goods from the tomb of Philip II, and inscribed pieces of pottery (ostraka) that were used to ostracize even the most powerful leaders of Classical Greek society.”

But the show’s main distinction is that its artifacts come from no fewer than 20 Greek museums, and some of them haven’t ever been exhibited outside of Greece. Such as this fellow.
Not AgamemnonBecause my misspent youth didn’t include a visit to Greece, I’d never seen this object in person, though I’ve seen the image reproduced enough to be familiar with it. At once I thought Agamemnon. I wasn’t the first person to think of that, of course.

“Displayed here for the first time outside of Greece, this is the gold mask that Schliemann first associated with Agamemnon,” the sign near the artifact said. “It was placed over the face of a person who died in his or her thirties. Although the deceased was certainly not Agamemnon — assuming that Agamemnon ever existed — he or she could have been one of his ancestors and was undoubtedly a powerful Mycenaean ruler. Mycenae, Circle A, Grave V, second half of the 16th century BCE. National Archaeological Museum, Athens.”

Google “mask of Agememnon” or the like, and you’re get this image, not the mask above. That’s because Schliemann later dug up another mask — the one Google pulls up — that he more famously associated with Agamemnon. The second mask wasn’t part of the exhibition, but there was an artful 19th-century replica of it on display.

Other familiar faces populated the exhibit. That is, sculptures I’d seen reproduced in books or elsewhere. Such as Homer (a Roman copy of a Greek work, exact time of creation unknown).

D'oh!Then there’s this unnamed lad with an Archaic smile. In fact, he seems pretty happy, considering that part of his penis is missing.

Smile, damn you, smileHere’s Aristotle (another Roman copy). I’m pretty sure this very image was depicted on a collection of his works that I have somewhere.

AristotleAnd Alexander.

Looks like Jim MorrisonThe bust is a Greek original, created in Pella. Am I the only one who thinks Jim Morrison resembles this Alexander? Anyway, the busts of Homer and Aristotle are from the National Archaeological Museum, while the famed face of Alexander is usually found at the Archaeological Museum of Pella (open only since 2009).

The exhibit will be in Chicago until April, and then go to the National Geographic Society Museum in DC for its last stop. Previously, it traveled to Ottawa and Montreal. The Greeks pointedly decided not to send the trove to anywhere in the UK, such as the British Museum or even the Victoria and Alberta. Still some bad feelings over the Elgin Marbles, it seems.

Gods and Mortals in Classical Mythology

I’ve turned the “reply” function here back on — or at least no logon to WordPress should be required to leave a comment — to see what happens. So far, unwanted replies are coming in. We’ll see whether that becomes a torrent.

Gods and Mortals in Classical MythologyAnother specialized dictionary that’s a prized book on my shelves: the hardback edition of Gods and Mortals in Classical Mythology by the tireless Michael Grant and John Hazel, first published in the UK in 1973. The Dorset Press put out my edition in 1985.

In the front cover I wrote my name, and “New York City, Aug 29, 1986.” I found it on a remainder table at the Barnes & Noble on Fifth Avenue back when that place was a destination, rather than just a large store in a large nationwide chain (and which closed last year anyway). I bought it as an upgrade to a paperback version of the book I acquired ca. 1984 in Nashville.

Acquiring the hardback allowed me to give the paperback to my college friend Rich, who’d expressed an admiration for it during a visit, and wanted it to look up Classical references in the Continental philosophy and the writings of other Germanic thinkers he’s interested in.

Me, I just enjoy reading about Antiquity. Gods and Mortals in Classical Mythology is an exceptional reference for that purpose.

Some excerpts, picked at random, show its richness. Such as wonderful detail about well-known characters:

Traditions vary about the appearance of the Gorgons. One the one hand, they are sometimes described as beautiful, and it was said that Athena gave Perseus the power to kill Medusa because she had boasted of excelling the goddess in beauty. Ancient art, on the other hand, depicts them with hideous round faces, serpentine hair, boar’s tusks, terrible grins, snub noses, beards, lolling tongues, staring eyes, brazen hands, a striding gait, and sometimes the hindquarters of a mare.

Or giving more obscure characters a mention:

Halirrhothius: Son of Poseidon and a nymph, Euryte. Near the Acropolis in Athens, he raped Alcippe, a daughter of Ares and Aglaurus, and for this Ares killed him. The god was arraigned by Poseidon at a court which met on the spot. This was the legendary origin of the court named Areopagus (Hill of Ares), which tried cases of homicide at Athens: it acquitted Ares of guilt.

And offering variations on the stories, which shows that that’s the way storytelling usually works. The book has this to say on the death of the hunter Orion, who hunts even now in the winter sky with his faithful Canus Major and Minor following him.

Orion next went to Crete, where he hunted in Artemis’ company, but Eos, goddess of the dawn, fell in love with him and carried him off. The gods, and particularly Artemis, were jealous that a goddess should take a mortal lover, and on the island of Delos… Artemis killed Orion with her arrows.

She is likewise associated with other variant accounts of Orion’s death. According to one of them, he died because he rashly challenged the goddess at discus-throwing; and another story recounted that she shot him for trying to rape Opis. Again he was said, while clearing Chios of wild animals, to have tried to rape Artemis herself, but she brought from the ground an enormous scorpion which stung him to death.

Or else she did this because she was afraid that he would kill all the animals on earth; or, alternatively, she actually contemplated marriage with Orion, whereupon her brother Apollo tricked her into killing him by pointing to an object far out at sea and betting that she could not hit it. She tried and succeeded, but the target she had hit turned out to be Orion’s head, for he was swimming or wading far from shore. In her grief she place her beloved in the sky as a constellation.