Museo Civico Archeologico, Bologna 23rd September 2022–19th March 2023

As images, ancient Roman wall paintings command attention for their bold compositions, vibrant and saturated colours, convincing naturalism and the fantastical mythologies they depict. As objects they also captivate for the dramatic circumstances surrounding their near- destruction, the miracle (or rarity) of their survival and the alchemical nature of lime plaster and pigment. As visual evidence they inform our understanding of the lives of their ancient viewers, providing what feels like a precious glimpse back in time. Yet while the stories of these objects take centre stage, the stories of their pictores (painters) often fade into the background. It is an imbalance that this exhibition seeks to rectify.

The exhibition, divided into five main sections and comprising over one hundred frescos and other objects, opens with a work that demonstrates this lacuna: a fresco of a female painter, perhaps a personification of Painting, at work (cat. no.1) [1]. At her feet rests what appears to be a full-length portrait panel leaning on the base of a sculpture of Dionysus, and she dips a slim brush into a box of pigments as onlookers peer over her shoulder. Images of artisans (allegorical or otherwise) at work are uncommon in the Roman world; indeed, little is known about them as individuals and the more practical details of their working lives. As the exhibition curator, Mario Grimaldi, highlights in his opening catalogue essay, whereas Greek artists were the ‘property of the world’ (p.22), most Roman ones toiled in virtual obscurity [2]. Some of this dichotomy is a product of the identity that the Romans constructed for themselves as masters of the utilitarian and administrative, more adept at military rhetoric than dramatic comedy; pursuits such as painting and playwriting were best left to those who excelled at them (namely, the Greeks) [3]. To a certain extent, the material record of Vesuvian archaeological sites supports this. Greek artisans are clearly traceable in Pompeii, their presence confirmed mostly by their names. A delicate painting on marble (1st century BC–1st century AD; no.3) illustrates this well. A group of women are gathered to play with astragaloi, the knucklebones of sheep or goats. Some of these are deftly balanced on the crouching figure’s outstretched hand; others tumble to the ground. The figures look as if they have been lifted directly from a painted Greek vase, yet the thin, crisp contour lines that usually cut cleanly across orange terracotta here seem to flow across the marble surface with a gentle softness, the result of the shift in material. As if to remind the viewer of its heritage, a small signature of the artist in Greek, Alexander of Athens, hovers in the top-left corner.                                                                                

The National Archaeological Museum, Naples, which has lent the great majority of the works on display, holds an extensive collection of these frescos, hundreds of which lie in storage and are not on regular display. The exhibition brings to light objects that have rarely been seen since the fateful eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79 and then their move to Naples beginning in the eighteenth century. Full-scale excavations began in Pompeii in 1748 and Herculaneum in 1738, and in the early decades of the work many paintings were cut out of their original locations, leaving ghostly squares in the still-standing walls of private houses and public spaces. This show can be heralded as a success on account of this aspect alone. Mounting an exhibition using works from storage highlights the sheer size of the Vesuvian excavations, generating an awe that is usually reserved for visits to the ruins of the ancient cities themselves. Yet it also illustrates the visual density of decorative programmes in the Roman world, and the multiplicity of contexts within which these works of art would have functioned. Indeed, the task of contextualising is omnipresent throughout the show, and is its main leitmotif. For all of the evocative beauty of the paintings, the purpose of this exhibition is not simply to present these rarely seen works in a setting conducive to contemplation, but to do this while also placing them within the social context of their ancient owners and the economic context of their manufacture. Grimaldi balances the display of colour and style with discussions of economics and process. Substantial wall space is given to explanatory text and graphics concerning the identity of painters, the chemical makeup and cost of pigments and the methodical search for the ‘hand’ of the painter, complete with reconstructions, across the towns’ decorated cubicula and atria. These are also helpfully reproduced in the catalogue. In addition, projectors screen videos that show digital reconstructions of ancient Pompeii. These informative elements are well- placed and succeed in supporting, rather than overwhelming, their fresco counterparts.

The installation of over one hundred fresco panels, many of which rest on plinths set against the walls, highlights the weight and size of these paintings. Most remain bonded to inches of plaster and encased in well-worn wooden frames, giving them a solidity that recalls the sturdy walls that they once decorated. This characteristic is made most obvious in the central area of the exhibition, which is punctuated by large partitions, like architectural frames, that are both used for display and can be walked through. Many of the paintings are substantial in size; the largest in the exhibition (1st century AD; no.82) was probably a full wall, 3 metres high and over 4 metres long, which towers above visitors as they enter the room dedicated to it. Rich in the red, black and yellow tones commonly associated with Pompeian interior design, the panel presents objects illustrating the Roman concept of xenia, the hospitality and generosity that one should extend to household guests. Tables spread with heaps of produce visible in the fresco are made manifest in this room by the inclusion of a half-loaf of carbonised bread from Pompeii (AD 79; no.83).

The floorplan of the exhibition then shifts to replicating the layout of actual rooms from Pompeii and other Vesuvian sites, with works placed as they were originally found. These recreations allow viewers to experience the works as ancient Romans would have done. Here the installation of the panels affords visitors a special proximity to the paintings. The painterly aspects of these works are revealed as a result of this opportunity for close investigation, which is palpable throughout the entire show: an example of this is one of the large (over 2 metres tall and 3 metres long) sections of the decorative programme from the House of Publius Fannius Synistor in Boscoreale (1st century BC; no.22), featuring an aged philosopher and the personifications of Macedonia and Persia. Details such as the cross-hatching along the bridge of Persia’s nose and cheeks on soft lines of pigment not only enhance the composition’s naturalism, they also suggest something of the painter’s rapid tempo, so integral to the demanding process of fresco painting.

The exhibition’s curator and coordinators have taken special care in the lighting of the frescos, not only in order to conform to conservation needs but also to emphasise their aesthetic qualities and size. The few examples of Roman painted stucco in the exhibition especially benefit from this treatment; these complex compositions seem to come alive underneath the soft spotlights. One such panel, mounted in the final rooms of the exhibition, is a satisfying crescendo to a show that is in equal parts exquisite and informative: illustrating a scene with an inebriated Hercules (no.121), the painted relief is a dynamic example of first-century Roman painting. A preparatory drawing scratched into an underlayer of plaster peeks out from the top-right corner, hinting at the presence of the pictores behind the scenes and bringing them, and their myriad stories, to life.

[1] Unless otherwise stated all works in the exhibition are from the National Archaeological Museum, Naples.

[2] Catalogue: I pittori di Pompei: Affreschi romani dal Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Edited by Mario Grimaldi. 224 pp. incl. 200 col. ills. (MondoMostre, Rome, 2022), €32. ISBN 978–8894619775.

[3] Ancient writers often communicated this. ‘Conquered Greece took captive her savage conqueror and brought her arts to rustic Latium’ (‘Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit et artes intulit agrestic Latio’), Horace: Odes, Book 2, epistle 1, lines 156–57.