In the British Museum it is preserved a bust from the 1st century of the emperor Vespasian with a fascinating secret. In reality it does not show us Vespasian, but rather Nero. Or at least it was until a sculptor took out his chisel to alter the features of Nero, one of the rulers with worst reputation of Rome, and resemble those of Vespasian.
It is not a unique case. We preserve many other imperial busts that initially portrayed one leader and over time were ‘re-sculpted’ to give him the appearance of another.
One word: re-carve. Some time ago, archaeologists Francesca Bologna and Raffaella Bucolo set themselves a task that was as fascinating as it was complicated: to better understand when, how and, above all, why the recarving, the Roman practice of ‘re-carving’ sculptures of emperors to alter their appearance. That what was initially a bust of Caligula or Nero became another of Claudius or Vespasian, to name two real examples.
One figure: 2,028. To better understand this habit, they analyzed 2,028 works, sculptures of Roman emperors made over three centuries, between 27 BC and 285 AD The exhibition is interesting not only because of the broad period it covers.
The researchers also wanted to include a broad list of heroes, ranging from Gaius Julius Caesar Augustusfounder of the Roman Empire, until beyond Marcus Aurelius Claudius Gothicusnoting in each case the new and ‘recycled’ pieces. Their conclusions have been collected in a paper recently published in Journal of Roman Archeology.
Why did they do it? The million dollar question. When answering it, the experts have raised above all a question of time and resources. That is, Roman sculptors would use ancient busts for a strictly practical reason and in order to reuse their materials and cut delivery times. In your article Bologna and Bucolo point out, however, that the phenomenon was probably much more “complex” and was influenced by both strictly technical and other “ideological” aspects.
One of the first conclusions that both experts obtained is that the recarving It was not always practiced with the same frequency nor was it equally supported in all corners of the vast Roman Empire. For example, during the time of the Antonines The ‘recycling’ of busts was abandoned for a very simple reason: during that time (2nd century AD) fashion led rulers to wear thick beards and voluminous hair, an aesthetic very different from their dynastic predecessors. Julio-Claudiana and Flavia.
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Is that important? Yes. Because it is one thing to remove excess marble and another (very different and more unfeasible) to create it where there is none. As the sculptures of previous emperors did not leave enough material to recreate those beards and thick hair, the ‘re-sculpture’ was temporarily abandoned “for mainly technical reasons” during the Antonine era.
Nor was it very common in periods of crisis in which emperors quickly succeeded one another on the throne, leaving no room for sculptors to ‘recycle’ the busts that were saved from pickaxe or mutilation.
It matters who… and where. one of the conclusions The most surprising things that archaeologists have come to is that the ‘recycling’ of busts was not equally frequent throughout the Empire. Bologna and Bucolo calculate that of all the sculptures they analyzed, only 8% It shows signs of having been ‘re-sculpted’ to alter its identity.
That is the general percentage, but it does not mean that it is extendable to the entire territory of the Empire. In the city of Rome it was somewhat higher (11%) and in other regions, such as Asia Minor or North Africa, it did not even reach 5%. If there is a territory that stands out, however, for the frequency of recarving It’s Iberiawhere that data shoots up to 19%.
The unknown. That makes Hispania the region in which more likely it was that a sculpture of a fallen emperor passed through the workshop to be altered. Especially during the years of the Julio-Claudian and Flavian dynasties.
The reason? One possibility is the different tunes of local elites. For example, there were portraits of Caligula that were converted into others of Augustus, a previous emperor of happier memory. The data from Rome, Africa and Asia Minor also have different explanations: the influence of political propaganda, the abundance of marble and specialized workshops or the existence of artisans.
The punishment of punishments. One of the most interesting ideas that the researchers come up with is that the ‘recycling’ of busts connects with a well-known practice in Rome, the damnatio memoriae. The term may not sound familiar to you, but it means “condemnation of memory” and experts equate it with a kind of “posthumous cancel culture”.
What does that mean? That when you wanted to punish a public official there was a particularly effective way to do it, even more bloody than simple execution: his mark was erased from history in a way so evident, so manifestly intentional, that it made it clear to future generations that that character should be reprobated. That is to say, his name was not suppressed in a discreet way, but in such a way that the void it left was clear.
The case of Crispus. In an article published in 2024 in The ConversationMichael Hanaghan, of the Australian Catholic University, shares an illustrative example: in 326 AD the Emperor Constantine had his son Crispus executed, supposedly upon learning that he had seduced Constantine’s own wife… and at the time Constantine’s stepmother. Crispus.
Although he was his firstborn, Constantine wanted to give him an exemplary punishment. And that didn’t just happen because of its execution. The name of Crispus was removed of monuments such as a preserved landmark in Brescia that Hanaghan came across during a visit to a museum. “This is not a secret erasure of someone’s name, but a public display of erasure.”
“Clear memory”. Bologna and Bucolo point out that this practice is behind at least certain cases of ‘recycling’ of Roman busts. Its purpose was “to erase the memory of a ruler who had incurred damnatio memoriae“The most curious thing is that on other occasions the objective was diametrically opposite: what the ‘re-sculptures’ were looking for was an exercise in translation memoriaesomething like a “memory transfer”. The image of a well-valued ruler was recycled to reinforce the legitimacy of a new one. All for clearly propaganda purposes.
“While the first scenario was the norm during the first three centuries AD, occasionally in the form of retrospective reconfigurations, the second became more common in the 4th century AD,” they explain the authors, who remember that the translation memoriae It was not an innovation.
“The reuse of images of exemplary rulers was not new, as demonstrated by the altered portraits of Alexander the Great, among others, to the likeness of Divus Agustus. The practice gained recognition during the tetrarchy and the reign of Constantinewhen there was a political emphasis on the continuity of the good emperors of the past.”
One goal, four paths. The study by Bologna and Bucolo is so detailed that it has allowed them to identify different types of ‘recycling’ of sculptures, depending on how elaborate the effort was to hide the original identity of the sitter. The most basic level is limited to changing the inscription, without touching the portrait itself. The experts located one example during their study: an original bust of Caracalla that was renamed Constantine.
In other cases the sculptor modifies the work, but without completely erasing the features of the original emperor, who remains identifiable to those who see the sculpture. The question remains, of course, to what extent this association continued to be evident over the centuries, especially among the citizens of the Empire furthest from Rome.
Where I said Nero, I say Vespasian. After those first two levels, there would be two others, which are gaining in complexity. The first consists of ‘re-carving’ only the front part of the bust. The sculptor worked on the front view and left the top, back and sides of the work unchanged. The researchers found that it was the most common tactic (it occurred in 52% of cases) and it makes sense if we take into account that the busts were high.
The last level went further and modified the entire piece, including the back, with a 360º approach. This would be the case of the bust of Nero-Vespasian kept in the British Museum, so altered that the artist made an effort to remove the curls at the back of his neck from the portrait of Nero.
Images | Wikipedia, Pierre Phaneuf (Flickr) and Steve Drolet (Flickr)
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