The Triumph and Trade of Egyptian Objects in Rome: Collecting Art in the Ancient Mediterranean

Stephanie Pearson, The Triumph and Trade of Egyptian Objects in Rome: Collecting Art in the Ancient Mediterranean, Image & Context, Volume 20 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2021).  9783110700893.

Reviewed by Katherine A. P. Iselin, Emporia State University, iselinkatherine@gmail.com.

In The Triumph and Trade of Egyptian Objects in Rome: Collecting Art in the Ancient Mediterranean, Stephanie Pearson sets out to accomplish one critical goal: to place Egyptian art objects properly within the milieu of Roman art, as both an influence and as collectibles in their own right. She completes this task with great aplomb, and in the process achieves two other things of import. Firstly, as her subtitle implies, Pearson’s study contributes to the woefully understudied field of Roman collecting practices. Although there is a plethora of scholarship on the relationship Romans had with Greek art, as well as the display of what we might call purely “Roman art,” their reception of art from other cultures and regions remains largely undeveloped in modern scholarship. Secondly, Pearson underlines the significance of the decorative arts within Roman culture. In contradistinction to many textbooks on Roman art, the so-called “luxury arts” here are frequently sidelined to brief sections within select chapters and rarely discuss more than a handful of carved gems, glassware, or silver vessels. This is principally the result of modern hierarchies within the art historical canon, with painting and sculpture remaining the epitome of artistic production in the Western world. Pearson shatters this illusion, demonstrating the importance of objects such as textiles, tableware, and even tables themselves as celebrated examples of art in the Roman world. With this study, Pearson not only greatly contributes to the growing interest in cultural exchange across the ancient Mediterranean, but also furthers our understanding of how the Romans engaged with art objects in general. 

Part I clearly outlines Pearson’s goals with the book, providing a solid foundation of how Egyptian objects have heretofore been understood in their Roman contexts. Additionally, Pearson calls attention to the problems associated with the terminology commonly used for discussing Egyptian art in the Roman world. Scholars tend to favor the term “Egyptianizing,” a word that tends to shift in meaning between usages and is never clearly defined. It also suggests something that is related to Egypt in style or meaning, but not actually produced in Egypt. Pearson argues this term is beholden to Western eighteenth- and nineteenth-century hierarchies of art and intellect, which often dismisses imitations as being less important. Furthermore, Pearson notes that Romans did not care whether something came from Egypt or was made in Italy. She asks what is to be gained by the differentiation if the Romans themselves did not engage in such practices. Instead, she opts to use “Egyptian” for anything related to Egyptian art or motifs, regardless of their origin, though she admits many will fault her for doing so. Pearson concludes, “With my controversial use of the term Egyptian, I aim to put some uncomfortable distance between us and our entrenched, modern, western perspective in order to gain a refreshingly new, and more properly Roman perspective on these very worthwhile objects” (p. 13; emphasis Pearson’s). While many may not agree with this decision, I commend Pearson for using such language in an attempt to bring the reader closer to the Roman subjects about whom she writes. The remainder of Part I covers other basic knowledge needed to understand Egyptian art better, as well as common assertions about Egyptian art by previous scholarship. One major point of emphasis is that Romans were selective in what Egyptian motifs they incorporated into their art. Additionally, iconographical analysis is difficult with Egyptian art, as the meaning from its original Egyptian context did not translate into its Roman environment. Lastly, Pearson discusses the three main meanings scholars typically apply to Egyptian art in a Roman context: 1) that there is a religious connotation or a sacred context; 2) that Egyptian art was merely a fad; 3) that it was a political symbol of Octavian’s conquest of Egypt (this does occur, but only for a short time after the conquest).

Part II focuses on Roman frescoes as an informational resource on how Egyptian objects were displayed in Roman spaces. Pearson notes that real luxury objects, such as Egyptian art, were depicted in these frescoes, sometimes in the same room in which the real objects were displayed nearby. Though she visits several houses, she frequently returns to the Upper Cubiculum of the (perhaps misnamed) House of Augustus (c. 35-25 BCE) as a case study to demonstrate her analysis of its Egyptian elements. In addition to Roman wall paintings featuring Egyptian objects as part of the realistic spaces in Second Style wall paintings, Egyptian symbols, such as the Horus feather crown, were abstracted into stylized vegetal or miniature designs. Artists sometimes pushed these compositions even further into abstraction, such as a black panel in the Upper Cubiculum that features a crown made out of ibises, another reference to Egypt. The “vegetalization” and “miniaturization” of Egyptian elements was accompanied by “hybridization,” which saw one element morph into another. All three types are found outside of paintings as well, in decorative arts like tripods. However, the paintings allowed artists to push the opulence even further, as they were not beholden to gravity or other aspects of the physical world. Pearson calls this “hyperluxury” and draws a parallel with the hyperrealism of contemporary sculpture (p. 58). Whether these wall paintings depicted fictional stylizations or real objects, they functioned as art galleries to their Roman viewers. 

In Part III, Pearson discusses the impact of Octavian’s conquest of Egypt and the subsequent influx of Egyptian objects into Italy. His three days of triumphs in 29 BCE displayed the spolia from the victory, after which the taste for Egyptian art exploded. Examples of Egyptian art in the following few decades likely held connotations of victory and power of the Roman Empire, but the aesthetic value of it remained for centuries. It is also worth noting that Part III provides excellent discussions on Roman expressions of luxury, banqueting practices, and the value of the decorative arts in Roman culture. Several sections would be ideal reads for undergraduate courses due to their short length and accessibility. 

Likewise, Part IV delivers a good entry into discussions on Roman trade with the eastern Mediterranean. Pearson analyzes the evidence for the frequency of shipwrecks at the end of the Republic and the start of the Empire to show how trade increased through Alexandria at this time. In addition to the data, the ships themselves tell this story; for example, some are built with Roman building techniques, but use wood from Egypt. This part also shows the infrastructure Romans employed in trade with India and China, expanding roads and providing protection for travelers. As with Part III, several sections in Part IV focus on an often-forgotten but highly prized artform: textiles. Sections 3, 4, and 5 discuss the primacy of textiles in Roman art, something that also occurred in Egypt before the conquest. Significantly, however, Egyptians typically used undyed linen until the Hellenistic period, when the Greeks shared a new weaving technique (looms with weights) and the use of wool, which allowed Egyptians to dye their textiles. These luxurious textiles were so prominent in Hellenistic Egypt that the Romans only saw the Egyptian association. The last sections of Part IV focus on pearls and tortoiseshell, two materials that came through Alexandria from India, but seemed to hold Egyptian connotations for the Romans. Silk additionally had an indefinable East Asian association for the Romans, as it primarily came through India from China. Pearson argues that it is unlikely the typical Roman knew or even cared about the origins of such objects, as they instead symbolized luxury. This was further enhanced by the presence of such materials in the Ptolemaic palace, and thus was tinged with connotations of Rome’s victory over Cleopatra. Interestingly, such vague associations of foreign luxury can be found much later in early modern Europe. 

In Part V, we finally get to sculpture (as statuary is typically given pride of place, I applaud Pearson for putting it at the end so that the other media might be given their rightful praises!). Egyptian sculpture was found in various contexts in the Roman world, but this chapter largely centers on its inclusion in pleasure gardens as part of art collections. While scholars frequently identify any space in which an Egyptian sculpture is found as a sanctuary or another religious space, Pearson argues statuary was more likely associated with luxury and connoisseurship, as it was often displayed alongside non-Egyptian art. She notes that there were certainly religious spaces with Egyptian sculpture (e.g., a lararium or a temple), but that outside of these spaces Egyptian sculptures functioned in the same manner as Greek statuary of a god or philosopher. Pearson also remarks on the Roman perception of certain aspects of nature being divine—such as caves or sources of rivers—and that the inclusion of Egyptian sculpture in gardens brought “an appropriate sacral air” (p. 178). She concludes Part V with a discussion of Egyptian art in an identifiable sanctuary, that of the Temple of Isis in Pompeii. The decoration of the structure outside the sacrarium is at home with wall paintings from any Roman context; indeed, one of the paintings is also found at a house in Pompeii, indicating these artists were working from pattern books. Within the sacrarium, however, the painting is more in line with “the traditional household shrine format” that identifies the space as sacred (p. 185), suggesting that we must be more discerning in our identification of any space with Egyptian motifs as religious. 

Triumph and Trade’s short conclusion in Part VI wraps up Pearson’s arguments succinctly and clearly, and she suggests some possibilities for future research. She asks the important question, “Why Egypt?”, answering that “recognizing that the Romans approached Egyptian art as art is a huge step to better understanding both the people and the material on an appropriately complex level” (p. 193). 

Pearson’s text is well-organized and easy to read, as each chapter is clearly separated into sections. This allows each section to be read in smaller increments, which makes it particularly well-suited to use for teaching. Likewise, it allows for easy consultation by the reader on a certain topic, without having to scan a series of pages within a long chapter to find a specific section. Throughout the book, Pearson copiously cites everything, providing ample resources for readers to consult if they wish to read further on a certain subject that is not a part of her study. The most noticeable aspect of the book from the outset is its lavish illustrations. Any art historian knows the difficulty in providing enough images for a book, let alone illustrations in color. Pearson fills her pages with beautiful color photographs, including details of larger paintings that allow the reader to see the miniscule details she discusses in her text. When she is unable to provide an illustration, Pearson cites the publication in which it can be found, or the inventory number for objects in museums with an accessible online database (such as the British Museum or Metropolitan Museum of Art). 

Pearson’s study does not consider the variety of viewership in the Roman world, but that was not the intention with this publication. Indeed, in her concluding remarks she considers the impact of gender on viewership in the Roman world and recommends it as an avenue for future study. This perspective is evident to the reader well before she says it out loud, as her analysis and thorough research into the material creates the space for the reader to do this. As the organization for this book lends itself to parsing out smaller sections for reading, Pearson’s work invites the application of other fields and methodologies to her research. Additionally, such an organization makes the text brilliantly suited towards inclusion in undergraduate courses, providing easily digestible sections that can be integrated into various points of a class. Though it is worth noting that knowledge of the Roman world and archaeology is assumed, as Pearson does not define certain customs, Latin phrases, or building techniques (for example, she does not explain otium or what the acrolith technique is). Even so, Pearson’s writing is clear and free from unnecessary jargon, providing an accessible text that those outside the field can understand. She also includes a summary at the end of the book, again making the text easy to use for casual readers, students, and professionals. 

There are, as with any study or publication, a few problems worth noting. There are a handful of minor typos, but these are minimal and unproblematic. One notable error occurs between Parts II and III. The footnotes for the introductory section of Part III are placed with the footnotes for Section 5 of Part II, which results in Part III’s introductory section containing notes 14-20 and placed with the previous Section 5 in the Notes section (pp. 208-209). While not a major problem, it would create some confusion for the reader if they had skipped the previous section. 

Though interest in collecting histories and practices has grown significantly in recent decades, these studies largely focus on the early modern or modern periods. It is well known that the Romans consumed the arts and cultures of many groups of people during their dominant presence around the Mediterranean and beyond, yet scholarship on their collecting practices is woefully deficient. In addition, Rome’s relationship with Egyptian art historically has been brushed aside by scholars as one without complex meanings. But Pearson expertly shows the various ways in which Romans displayed, consumed, and engaged with Egyptian art. Pearson deftly shows how closely these two aspects of the Roman world are intertwined. Triumph and Trade provides a welcome and necessary addition to address these major lacunae in Roman studies.

Table of Contents

1. Introduction: Egyptian Art in Rome as Art (1-28)
2. The Lure of Egyptian Treasures (29-77)
3. Triumphal Splendor (79-115)
4. Trading in Luxury (117-156)
5. Sculptures for Cult and Collecting (157-189)
6. Conclusion: Why Egypt? (191-195)
7. Summary (196-200)

Discussion

1. Was the inclusion of Egyptian art as prominent in funerary contexts as important as it was in the domestic and public spaces you discuss?

You’re quite right to ask about funerary contexts, since they parallel domestic contexts in telling ways. Romans living in Egypt maintained some of the traditional funerary art of the previous periods – such as architectural features and the decoration of coffins – while innovating some new forms, such as the breathtaking mummy portraits. Romans living in other parts of the Empire were also mainly buried according to local traditions, not Egyptian ones. Yet sometimes they included Egyptian objects in their burials, such as an isolated ushabti figurine. And sometimes they adopted Egyptian architectural features for their tombs, like the famous Pyramid of Caius Cestius. But Romans living outside of Egypt never seem to want to recreate an Egyptian tomb in its entirety – just as they did not want to recreate an entire Egyptian room in their own house. So yes, the funerary contexts are very important for showing us the ways that Romans both inside and outside Egypt used Egyptian objects. Outside of Egypt, Romans used Egyptian objects as special accents, whether in domestic, public, or funerary contexts.

2. In your conclusion, you mention a few ways future scholars might approach the material from your studies. In particular, you mention gender studies. Are there any broad observations about viewership that you noticed during your research with regards to gender? How might status (such as enslavement) or age of the viewer also impacted their experience with Egyptian art?

As I began my book project, the concept of viewership in the scholarship on Roman encounters with Egypt was rare. Really dedicating time and attention to understanding the people who looked at these objects, and making this a substantial focus of written scholarship, was being done by a few wonderful and brave researchers, but in the majority of the scholarship I was reading it just wasn’t done. So I didn’t think about it very much. Only as I was finishing my book did I start actively trying to develop antipatriarchal ways of seeing, both personally and professionally, and asking how that might have changed my book. Of course, it would be a totally different book! For instance, I would love to see in the scholarship an account of a Roman from Egypt walking around some of the Egypt-inspired monuments in Italy. What would they think of these somehow familiar yet totally different takes on Egyptian art? Status and age are also absolutely part of this. How about a book that presents a variety of characters engaging with Egyptian objects in Italy, emphasizing the plethora of personal experiences? Perhaps each chapter could be written by a different specialist focusing on a different kind of viewer. Many researchers might consider that kind of book too novelistic to be tenure-worthy, but I think it is absolutely necessary if we’re going to deeply understand the ancient material. Because at the end of the day, we’re trying to understand how the material relates to people.

3. Were there any objects or other works of art that you were unable to include in your book that you found especially fascinating, or perhaps connections with other parts of the world that did not fit into the parameters of this study?

One of my favorite genres of object to come out of my research was totally unexpected: porcelain. Particularly the services featuring motifs of a conquered Other. The parallels between Egyptian objects in Roman Italy and the early modern European “Egyptomania” have been discussed in part. But the parallels with chinoiserie in European contexts, for instance, are very exciting – much more so than the facile mentions of the comparison let on. There is some fantastic research on chinoiserie and colonial and gendered gazes that I would love to dive into more deeply. One porcelain example sticks in my mind: Catherine the Great of Russia ordered a service decorated with heaps of military detritus from the defeated enemy – what is that like to eat off of? Did her guests even notice? I’m as surprised as anyone to have become a porcelain nerd, but it truly represents a fascinating combination of world power, gendered trinkets, and the animal pleasures of eating and drinking.

Thank you for your wonderful responses! Your answer to my third question is particularly interesting and brings up something I also considered as I read your book: Scholarship on reception and collecting is almost always applicable to all cultural periods. Cultural exchange occurs between different peoples during every period, and how one group experiences it can often help us understand it in other cultural contexts. The reaction to and creation of art may change in each instance, but the questions we as researchers ask are frequently the same (or at least pertinent in each instance!). I hope scholars of other art history periods will also look to your study as a valuable resource.