It’s very difficult to pin down exactly what classical Roman art means to people today, and that in no small part stems from the imitation that has defined its history. Centuries of neoclassical imitations of Roman art have incredibly similar cultural understandings to Roman styles, which are themselves imitations of older Greek styles. Many of these neoclassical imitations are themselves so old that they too find themselves disconnected from their original contexts. For the purposes of this assignment I am more interested in the ways that people respond to the style and tradition of classical art and architecture than the differences between the various ancient techniques. Roman art builds upon Greek technique, but in terms of modern cultural meaning I would argue that people generally don’t differentiate between the two in a significant way, particularly when they are found in modern imitation. I will use Greek and Roman examples because they are understood and treated in very similar ways today, despite how separated they are in time and culture.

One of our goals in studying history is to achieve greater understanding of cultural contexts now removed from us by time. As we have gotten better at this we have arguably gotten closer to rather than farther from the cultural meanings of ancient art, especially as we make a conscious effort to correct previous misunderstandings. This is especially true within the classical tradition, as many of the famous works that are thought of in similar ways to ancient works are in reality just as removed from them as we are. The Trevi fountain in Rome for example finds itself on the same tourist presentations as other pristine white marble sculptures, but it is separated from those sculptures by 1700 years or more. That iconic white marble of the sculptures on the fountain shared by other famous neoclassical works like Michelangelo’s David is culturally understood as unmistakably classical, but in reality it is anything but. The classical aesthetic is a result of aging rather than a preference for plain marble; the Roman aesthetic has been constructed by centuries of faulty imitation rather than by the Romans themselves. A combination of better science behind pigment reconstruction and greater integrity in trying to understand historical artefacts as they appeared originally has led a minor shift in meaning in recent years. The presence of these pigments on original Roman sculptures was no secret to curators and collectors, but historically they would typically be cleaned off before display. In recent years this has been discouraged and technology has allowed us to make reasonably accurate reconstructions of the original pigments. Exhibits of the often fantastic colors that used to cover ancient sculptures have brought us closer to their original context, but this knowledge does not erase the thousands of years where white marble was synonymous with the Roman aesthetic. When an artist or designer wants something to look Roman they will still use that characteristic white, as evoking that classical aesthetic is more important than faithfulness to original appearance.

Better understanding of pigments may allow us to physically see what ancient Romans saw in their art, but unless our new greater technological understanding one day includes time travel we cannot know how they reacted to it. How we perceive quality today is undoubtedly different from how it was perceived then, especially considering how subject perception is to outside influence. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than the case of the Venus de Milo, one of the most famous pieces in the Louvre’s collection. Today this is one of the most iconic classical sculptures in existence, but how it became famous reveals a lot about how classical art has remained so iconic over time. The sculpture was discovered after Napoleon’s fall from power, but during his reign Napoleon was eager to connect his empire to Rome and classical power in any way possible. This manifested in him directing subordinates to steal classical art and return it to France to be housed in the Louvre. When he was forced to abdicate he had to return the art, and the Louvre had suddenly lost much of its classical art. When the Venus de Milo was found, the Louvre was desperate for any replacement for the art they had lost, and were more than willing to inflate the weight of its discovery. They misplaced a section of the base of the sculpture that would have placed the sculpture more than a century after the end of the classical period, and encouraged publications that attributed the statue to more famous artists. All of this inflation would be revealed years later, but they were ultimately successful in making a statue that might have otherwise been unremarkable incredibly famous. Because of the political dynamics surrounding the statue it took on a life of its own, and would fulfill a role similar to the use of classical technique everywhere in architecture. We have no way of knowing how famous or how unremarkable the statue might have been in its time, but it like the pieces it replaced served for centuries as icons of the power of Rome that governments seek to model themselves after. Historical irresponsibility like that involved in the promotion of the Venus de Milo would hopefully be frowned upon now, but even today the Roman aesthetic is very alive in representing democracy and power: one only has to look at how we have constructed the buildings that house our own government in the United States.