The Romans drew lines between themselves and the “other,” between “barbarous” and “civilized” with words, customs, and clothing. They also used color. Color was an important means of defining and depicting what was foreign. The use of colored marbles and of brightly painted patterns in Roman art were common orientalizing techniques that told the viewer when they were looking at a statue of a barbarian or a painting of an easterner. Variegated marbles — stones with particolored veins and naturally mottled patterns—contributed to the fictive creation of an East that lived only in the imagination of Romans, most of whom only ever experienced those lands through the prism of art.
The clothing we wear, and imagine others wearing, is an important way we signal who we are, and aren’t. When Romans wanted to depict other non-Roman peoples, whether on statues, reliefs, mosaics, or frescoes, they often used clothing as a way to visually signal differences between them. For example, Romans typically depicted barbarians clothed in trousers. Although we take them for granted today, pants were once highly controversial indicators of the difference between the barbarian and the Roman citizen. The pant was not necessary for the sedentary senator who functioned well in a toga. But, pants were essential to the life of citizens occupied with riding and archery. In the later empire, pants were banned from being worn in the city of Rome as a means of trying to halt the barbarous fashion staple and forefront the Roman toga. All the while, some non-Roman people continued wearing pants in order to display their cultural differences with Rome.
At Dura-Europos on the Euphrates, where a Roman garrison was stationed in the second and third centuries CE, paintings from cult buildings in the city show Roman soldiers in military garb, while local town residents are depicted in traditional clothing, including tunics and trousers. At the mithraeum, the outer wall of the cultic niche has prominent depictions of individuals in local Parthian dress—trousers topped by a tunic—and a ‘Phrygian’ cap, associated with the followers of Mithras, and easterners more generally. These two individuals may have been prominent local members of the congregation, perhaps patrons, or may have been ‘prophets’ associated with the cult.
In the Temple of Bel, many panels depict the local Durenes in their regional garb. There is, interestingly, a scene depicting the sacrifice of Julius Terentius. The event is identified by a Latin inscription in the painting, which names the subjects. It shows the commander and other members of the Roman garrison offering a sacrifice to both the Roman military gods and the local Fortunes of Dura and Palmyra. The soldiers and military gods are depicted in traditional Roman military garb including a tunic and chlamys, or short cloak. The local goddesses are dressed, by contrast, in eastern Greek garb (called a chiton and himation).
It is key to remember that polychromy—simply the use of multiple colors in artwork—is not limited to paint alone. Although sculptors applied variously colored hues, attached metal accents in bronze, and added bone or glass inlay to marble, all providing colorful notes, the marble itself could be a pivotal source of polychromy. As a small statue on display at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston reminds us, naturally occurring multicolored marbles from all over the Mediterranean were often used by Roman sculptors to give statues patterns and color. The use of such multicolored marbles could lend life-like animation to the statues in ways that go far beyond painted techniques. This small statuette is one of many in which Roman sculptors not only carved non-Roman clothing but selected colored polychrome marbles in order to accentuate the difference between Romans and non-Romans.
The early Roman imperial geographer, Strabo, noted a number of variegated marbles in his Geography, and applied the Greek adjective ποικίλος, meaning a many-colored object. The word could be applied to many-colored textiles, metals, and even spotted cows. One of the most popular polychrome marbles was pavonazzo, a white marble with purplish-red veins running through it. Pavonazzo was quarried in antiquity from what is modern day Turkey. Although Romans favored the marble’s use in columns and flooring, they also used it as representative of “the East” more broadly. Other colored marbles used included green breccia marble and red porphyry, both from Egypt. All of these colored marbles have in common the fact that they were quarried outside the imperial center.
To understand the shift in the use of marble, we must also understand Rome’s expansion. Throughout the first and second centuries, Rome’s borders expanded ever eastward, mostly through military campaigns and conquest. Making Roman citizens increasingly aware of ‘others’ at the borders of their empire, and also, within it. Precisely which peoples were considered ‘others’ depended, to some degree, on the political climate of the moment and the current military campaigns. In the Flavian dynasty (69 – 96 CE), the Roman Empire undertook campaigns in Judaea, Britain, and Dacia (modern Romania). The success of the Judaean campaign, for example, is depicted on the Arch of Titus and on ‘Judaea capta’ coins minted to commemorate the victory.
During the emperor Trajan’s reign (98-117 CE), several campaigns against the Dacians (in modern Romania) and the Parthians (roughly modern Iran) were waged. The Dacians in particular became an important ‘other’ in the imagination of imperial Rome and exemplified the strength of Rome’s empire. From the mid-second century CE on, conflict with the Parthians was a particularly prominent feature of Roman politics and art. At this time, areas formerly under Parthian control (like the caravan town of Dura Europos) fell to the Romans. Imperial art often depicted these newly conquered ‘others’ in politicized and fetishized ways.
Paint and colored marbles could both breath life and movement into a piece, and communicate messages to the Roman viewer. These ‘barbarian’ statues are a reminder of the human impulse to measure ourselves against what we see depicted in art. During the Roman imperial period, many used multicolored marble to indicate ethnicity, status, and wealth. In the city of Rome, such statues were part of monuments that invited citizens to celebrate (and visitors to witness) the power and reach of the empire.
In 1986, Rolf Michael Schneider illustrated this point in a seminal study on the Roman use of colored marble to represent barbarians with his book, Bunte Barbaren: Orientalenstatuen aus farbigem Marmor in der römischen Repräsentationskunst. As Schneider demonstrates, marble could and did transmit imperialistic messages. Romans from the wealthy elites, or members of the imperial family, who had paid for such statues, allowed for a story to be told that distinguished the average Roman citizens who viewed them, as the civilized alternative to the multicolored barbarian being gawked at. Outside of the historical context, in museum galleries today, the overtly political nature of these material choice and their role in creating an image of the citizen in contract to the barbarian is easily missed.
Non-Roman clothing and colors were frequently combined with specific gestures that displayed the inferiority of the Eastern other, most often by showing them in the guise of a captive. On a small statuette from the MFA, for instance, our pavonazzo barbarian is shown with arms crossed. Though the hands are missing, they would likely have been chained (possibly with added metalwork) to indicate his status as a prisoner of Rome. The statue of a conquered Dacian in green breccia, now in the Louvre (above), combines bound hands with a seated pose and posture indicating submission.
Most evocative are sculptures of pavonazzo marble that show barbarians kneeling on one knee in an act of capitulation. Adding insult to injury, their shoulders support a platform, and indicate that they were part of a larger sculptural program or monument. One such sculpture from Rome and now in Naples was probably from the Forum of Trajan and commemorated his military campaigns in the East. These statues render life-size themes of submission and vanquished ‘others’ that were also popular on coins and imperial monuments of the time. As Rome’s borders expanded through war, color accentuated the barbarian, and highlighted their conquest.
Taken together, the clothes, gestures, and color of a sculpture–whether painted or effected by naturally colored marble–were important ways in which difference was depicted by artisans and sculptors across the ancient Mediterranean. In certain hands, these aspects could be combined to depict a subject as being inherently non-Roman, and by extension, inferior. During the Roman empire, sculptors in Rome combined a variety of colored marbles together with clothing and gestures in order to emphasize the foreignness of the conquered barbarian and other non-Romans. Outside the center, such as at Dura, with a local audience in mind, the same clothes, gestures, and colors could be used to accentuate and celebrate local differences from imperial Roman culture. These color-coded objects helped map an impression and concept of the East in the minds of those at the imperial center. Yet they were read differently depending on the perspective of who you were, where you were from, and what you valued.
And yet there are exceptions: the third century porphyry and bronze Minerva in the Louvre and the second century porphyry and marble Apollo in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, for example. I suppose you could argue that they are Greek prototypes (Apollo and Athena) and therefore eastern, but as gods central to the Roman pantheon, it might be stretching the point. The main problem with the thesis is that it’s based on fragmentary surviving evidence – the only textual evidence we have on what the Romans themselves might have thought is Pliny the Elder and while he talks about different kinds of marble and when they were introduced, he doesn’t mention them being used together at all.
As we note in the article, it all depends on perspective and context. Art is interpretive and flexible depending on the viewer. Yet the use of multi-colored marbles to gesture to orientalize is an absolutely pivotal and proven way that variegated marbles were used. This is backed up not only by Pliny, but by many other textual (e.g. Ammianus Marcellinus and Herodotus) and ceramic sources. The use of porphyry could have varying meanings, but it absolutely was used as a means of referencing both the divine (e.g. an expensive marble used for a deity) and the East through its use. Remember that Rome often connected her gods back to their Eastern heritage and Romans were themselves deeply connected to the East via Troy (cf. The Aeneid).
I thought the thinking was that all those beautiful white statues were not left natural when they were created but were all painted in vivid colors – this seems to say that is not the case. So is it just those made with marble that were left natural, and clays were painted ? It would be nice to clarify the story !
Thanks for your comment. The color landscape of a statue could be a mix of painted polychromy (as I have written about before) on marble and a reliance on variegated marbles, like the ones Sean and I reference in this article. Polychromy just means multi-colored and thus statues could be a composite of colored marble, paint, and (sometimes) clothing or metal accents. Bronze and ceramics were indeed also painted. It is a good reminder that the statues of antiquity had many different elements upon them–many of which don’t survive or were rubbed off.
Prof. Bond, Strabo was Greek, not a Roman.
He wrote in Greek but was writing during the Roman period–from the late Republic into the Augustan age. Roman era is perhaps a better fit, but he is indeed part of the Roman empire and thus a Roman. Hard to accept, I know, but I am well aware of Strabo’s geography, identity, and use of Greek whilst living in Asia Minor.
I beg your pardon, Prof. Bond: With this logic, Christ was also a Roman, not a Jew. And Josephus too. Are you sure?
Very interesting information, but it seems a disservice to imply that the statues were in effect giving racist clues to the Romans viewing them. Rome was multi-ethnic and racial, and whiteness was not a Thing the way it is nowadays. Depicting a foreigner in local/ native colors (given the marble was extracted there) was not necessarily signifying the people are inferior, no? Romans looked up to Greeks as more sophisticated. Romans might have thought they had a better system – arguably they did – but that doesn’t mean they conquered people because they were inferior, or that they thought they were a superior color. I think many younger Americans reading this article will conclude just that, sadly.
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