ROMAN SCULPTURE

 I've been searching the net for cheap, good quality plaster replicas of a couple of my favorite sculptures. So far the results haven't been very encouraging but I'll persist. Near the top of my list would be a replica of the so-called "Brutus Bust," an Etruscan-style portrait of a Roman subject from the third century B.C. This is too early to have been a portrait of the Brutus who killed Caesar, but then...who was he?

The book I got this picture from describes this head as being that of "an obstinate peasant, marked by suffering but by no means bowed, and knowing how to bear his lot with dignity." Wow! I'd love to have a decent replica of this.

For comparison, here's (above) a bust of the Brutus who killed his friend Julius Caesar for what he believed was the good of Rome. There's competing depictions of that Brutus, but I trust the accuracy of this one because it was commissioned by his family who must have known what the real man looked like. It's an interesting face, no?

If you liked the black and white photo of the Brutus Bust, then you might be interested in this bronze (above) from the same period. It's from the Getty Villa outside of LA. It's so similar to the theme and technique of the other sculpture that I'm guessing it was executed by the same man. If I'm right, then that sculptor, who's name we don't know, was surely one of the best Roman artists ever to work in that medium.

VIRGIL'S "AENEID": WHAT I LIKE ABOUT IT

 I'm writing about Aeneas (above), the towering hero of Rome's greatest epic poem,  Virgil's "Aeneid." My wife and daughter are reading it for a course on mythology, and I get to benefit from it too, just by hanging out and listening to them. What they've said has been so interesting that I can't resist writing about it. See what you think.

Aeneas was a Trojan in the Trojan War. The Greeks sacked the city and Aeneas escaped with his father and and son to a waiting ship. Like Odysseus, Aeneas and his crew wandered the monster-filled Mediterranean, only in his case he wasn't attempting to go home...he had a destiny.

Maybe the greatest obstacle on Aeneas's journey was his encounter with Dido, a princess of Carthage. She loved Aeneas fiercely and he stayed with her for years.

Let me digress for a moment to compare two painted versions of Aeneas and Dido hunting (the two pictures above). Look how much energy is conveyed in the larger of the two. That picture tells you all you need to know about Dido: how exceptionally suited for Aeneas she was, how she matched him in flare and virtue.

He might never have left Dido if not for the urging of the gods. One day on a hunting trip the clouds parted and Venus appeared to scold Aeneas. Why, she wanted to know, was he delaying the inevitable? There was that mysterious appeal to destiny again and Aeneas, bound by a sense of duty, obeyed. He immediately set sail for Italy.

When Dido discovered he was gone her grief knew no bounds. She ran herself through with a sword and crawled into a raging fire.

On the mainland Aeneas makes his famous trip to Hades where he asks his father (who had died on the journey) about the nature of his destiny.  To give you a taste of Virgil's literary technique, here's (below) the poet's description of Charon, the legendary boatman who ferries souls to Hell.

Aeneas meets up with his father and the nature of his destiny is finally revealed to him. He and his successors (which will include Romulus and Remus) will found Rome, what Virgil believes to be the greatest force for good ever to appear. The father mentions names (below) of great Romans yet unborn who will alter history, and explains why the world needs Roman virtue as much as it needs the technical and aesthetic qualities of the Greeks. 

He also encounters Dido with her wound still intact. He tries to explain why he left but she refuses to listen and flees to the comfort of her compassionate first husband.



For opera fans I offer this beautiful version of the key aria in Purcell's "Dido and Aeneas." The music has no catchy melody but is a sustained expression of anguish and dignity which manages to mirror the same qualities in some of Virgil's verse.

How does Virgil do it? His descriptions are sometimes very lean, as if he was writing an outline for a poem instead of the poem itself; and yet, so much of what he writes is memorable...you read it once and you can't get it out of your head. He seems to have the ability to make characters and events iconic. Aeneas doesn't just run out of Troy, he runs out with his talkative aged father over his shoulder. He doesn't just dally with Dido, he luxuriates in being loved by someone first-rate.

He also buys a lot of credibility with his ethos. For Virgil, the virtuous life, the life dominated by duty and knightly virtues is the only life worth living. In previous centuries every school boy read the Aeneid and thus was schooled in the art of being a civilized and virile man.

Fascinating stuff, eh?

A VISIT TO THE GETTY VILLA

I just spent a large part of the day at The Getty Villa in The Pacific Palisades. If you live in LA you know that this recreation of a Roman villa houses one of the best collections of Greek and Roman art in the United States.

My favorite room is the one containing the busts. This Roman bronze (above) is extraordinary when you see it up close. The face shows a man full of grit, someone who spits in the face of adversity and refuses to buckle under. 

Yikes! I'm paying the price for not reading the inscriptions. Who is this man? Alexander? Maybe it's nobody well-known, but he dominates the room.

This (above) is simply a highly individuated balding man.

A fascinating likeness (above)! Who is this man?

Above, the emperor Nerva. He looks like Lawrence Olivier in "Spartacus."

This is Commodus, the dissolute son of Marcus Aurelius. I thought Bernini invented this ultra-smooth, beautifully mannered technique, but I guess he didn't.

I've seen this face (above) many times on modern men in present day Los Angeles, yet here it is, on a bust more than 2,000 years old. 

Here's (above) "The Charioteer," which celebrates the victory in a race of Rome's most popular charioteer. 

I'm wondering if the real life charioteer paid for this sculpture (above) out of his own pocket. How else to account for the obvious "Chick Magnet" appeal of the shapes? You should have seen how the women in the museum reacted to this statue.

Above, another bearded man. 

Here's (above) a stunningly charming female face. The sculptor must have admired his subject, maybe he even fell in love with her. It looks like something Carpeaux would have done 1500 years later.

This statue (above) blew my mind. The fluid, quirky style reminds me of Donatello's "David." I thought Donatello invented this technique, but this sculpture pre-dates David by at least 1500 years.

Here's (above) a musician or a poet being visited by the muses. An easily grasped concept, right?

Wrong. What the heck is that (above) fish tail on their backs? I wish I'd taken the time to read the inscription.

Above, a couple of artifacts from Greek theater. The Getty has more painted items like this, but photography in those rooms was forbidden.