Hadrian And Antinous (Ancient Art Podcast 32)

Hello and welcome back to the Ancient Art Podcast. I'm your friendly traveling companion, Lucas Livingston. Back in episode 25, we took a gander at a beheaded beauty at the Art Institute of Chicago. The Art Institute has a few other headless wonders from the Roman era and an equal number of disembodied heads to go along for the ride. It's like chocolate in my peanut butter. Two particularly attractive heads are of the Emperor Hadrian and his young, let's say, intern Antinous from the second century of the Common Era. One of the most beloved emperors in Roman history, Hadrian continued to be admired well into the Christian era. His name is perhaps most recognized today in the so-called Hadrian's Wall in northern England. I say so-called because that's what we call it now, not what the Romans called it. A popular tourist attraction today, Hadrian's Wall was constructed in AD 122 in the fifth year of Hadrian's reign. It's generally thought that the wall at that time marked the northern frontier of the Roman Empire. Hadrian ruled from AD 117 to 138 and is immediately recognizable by his characteristic features. Hadrian was the first Roman emperor to wear a beard. Well, except for that Nero fella, but we'll just pretend that whole episode never happened. The beard then became quite fashionable after Hadrian, and every Roman emperor had one, for better or for worse, up until Constantine, the first Christian emperor from AD 306 to 307. But what else distinguishes portraits of Hadrian from any other bearded Roman? Notice the deep drilling into the stone. Hadrian has a characteristic hairstyle with thick, heavy locks waving frantically. This might convey a feeling of anxiety or wildness. As one of Rome's most beloved emperors, Hadrian didn't need to put on airs of a refined, sculpted aristocrat. He was an emperor of the people, and his images might invoke a down-to-earth sort of feeling that the public would receive well. Imperial sculpture of the Hadrianic era also reflects a certain classical Greek sensibility, again in the hair with the tight curls forming a distinctive bowl cut, looking like it might just want to get up and jump off his head. Whoa, whoops, wrong slide. Now how did that get in there? We see a similar rendering of the hair on certain Greek statuary, notably of Apollo. This image of Hadrian also looks like him. That's the funny thing about portraits, they generally look like the individuals. Imagine that. Or at least it conforms to the conventional portrait type of Hadrian, invented by the Roman propaganda machine and disseminated throughout the empire. Also innovative to the reign of Hadrians, the subtle modeling of the eyes gently drilling the pupils. Prior to this moment, Roman sculpture generally relied on paint to add definition to the eyes, as with earlier Greek and Egyptian sculpture. Hadrian was well known for his Philhellene tendencies, and that's got nothing to do with adolescence. Philhellene's a lover of all things Greek. Among Hadrian's many posts along the political ladder was the governorship of Greece, then a territory in the sprawling Roman Empire. Hadrian considered himself to be a subscriber to Greek Stoic and Epicurean philosophy, and some historians, past and present, ascribe his desire for a beard to this tendency, because all good Greek philosophers wore beards. But what would good history be without controversy? Another interpretation posited by ancient historians was that Hadrian had either very bad skin or a big scar, so the beard was simply to cover that up. Despite the earlier statement above, Hadrian's Philhellenistic enthusiasm did in fact extend to adolescence. Enter Antinous. Antinous was born to a Greek family in Bithynia, Anatolia, present-day Turkey. According to one version of events, in AD 124, at the ripe age of 13 or 14, marital age for young men in Roman society, Antinous joined Hadrian's entourage as it was passing through Bithynia. Another account was that Hadrian had the entirety of the Roman Empire scoured for the most beautiful youth, and that happened to be Antinous. For six years, Hadrian paraded Antinous around as his arm candy. Then, in October of the year 130, while vacationing in Egypt, Antinous mysteriously drowned in the Nile. In a true-to-life unsolved mystery along the Nile, ancient historians debated whether this was an accident, suicide, murder, or maybe even a ritual sacrifice. Whatever the cause, and whether or not Hadrian was in any way involved, he sure didn't let on that way. In a state of mourning of epic proportions, Hadrian's grief knew no bounds. He named cities after the lost beloved youth, like Antinopolis in Egypt, also called Antinoui. Medals were struck with his effigy, and statues of Antinous were erected throughout the empire. Hadrian also minted coinage with Antinous' visage. He is one of the few non-imperial individuals ever to have their faces on Roman coins. Also, Cleopatra. There's a great coin at the Art Institute of Chicago showing Cleopatra on one side and Marc Antony on the other. And if you're especially good, maybe we'll take a closer look at this coin in a later episode. What's really wonderful about ancient coinage is that you generally get an image with an inscription. So, coins of Antinous become the template to which other images are compared for identification. This fragmented statue of Antinous at the Art Institute of Chicago is representative of the images Hadrian spread far and wide. The images of Hadrian and Antinous are stylistically similar, of the same stone and with careful, deeply carved locks of hair. Antinous turns his head slightly to the left with a bit of a downward glance, gazing off into the distance. The installation here, though, gets a gold star for curatorial choice because Antinous appears to be looking fondly upon his emperor, suggesting the affection they shared. Hadrian went to great lengths to ensure that Antinous would not be forgotten, including deifying the youth. Temples to Antinous were erected in his native Bithynia, Arcadia, and Athens. He was also depicted as the Roman god Bacchus, god of fertility, and as the Egyptian god Osiris, god of death and resurrection. To early historians, Osiris and Bacchus, or the Greek Dionysus, were considered one and the same, as both cults celebrate fertility and both gods share a death, dismemberment, and resurrection mythology, but that definitely needs to wait until another episode to be explored in greater depth. Modern scholars and connoisseurs take the whole matter of hairdos very seriously when identifying a particular image as Antinous, and we have to be careful because our perception of what was popular in antiquity can get skewed by what's been popular more recently. Images of Antinous were crazy popular in the 17th and 18th centuries, to the point that any second or third century figure of an unidentified slender youth with wildly articulated hair got the name Antinous slapped on it. Why? Profit margin. What dealer would sell an image of an unidentified youth when he could sell an Antinous for twice the price? Antinous became a figural type, similar to how all archaic Kouros figures were once commonly referred to as Apollo figures, as we briefly touched on at the end of episode 16 on the Metropolitan Kouros. The more modern popularity of the Antinous name has also elevated Antinous to be regarded as one of the most widely preserved faces from the ancient world, which many of the West's great museums can boast having in their collections. Cults have to be wary of restorations. It's indeed possible to have a spot-on Antinous only to discover that most of the head was carved in modern times. Case in point, the heavily restored Antinous from the Palazzo Altemps in Rome. Images of Antinous loomed larger than the human himself, leading to a trend in artistic convention for idealized youthful male beauty. It's indeed conceivable that some Antinous figures could simply be unidentified youths, or even youths in the guise of or inspired by Antinous. For example, when the rich and famous 2nd century Greek aristocrat, sophist philosopher, and politician Herodes Atticus lost his young intern, Polydeuces, much like Hadrian, Herodes Atticus commissioned funerary games and commemorative sculpture on a lavish scale. And some scholars argue that images of Polydeuces intentionally mimicked the Antinous style to elevate Polydeuces to that same semi-divine status, and to elevate Herodes Atticus himself to the status of Hadrian. To distinguish the two, Polydeuces is generally considered to have a slightly upward gaze, and a more petulant or sassy look, versus Antinous' downward, demure expression. With his long, luscious, deeply drilled curls cascading over his temples and forehead, a thick fringe of hair covering the nape of his neck, slender angular features, and his downward gaze, the Art Institute's image of Antinous fits squarely in the popularly accepted Antinous morphology. And its current installation, standing here demurely beside the proud emperor, never to leave his side, weaves a wonderful narrative of adventure, love, mystery, tragedy, and the exaltation of Hadrian's immortal beloved. Check out ancientartpodcast.org for the complete transcript to this and every episode, image galleries with credits, and an extensive bibliography. Increase your karma and add a review on iTunes or leave comments on YouTube. If you have any questions or comments, you can email me at info at ancientartpodcast.org or get in touch with the feedback forum on the website. You can friend the podcast at facebook.com slash ancientartpodcast and follow me on Twitter at Lucas Livingston. I hope you had fun and I'll see you next time on the Ancient Art Podcast.