1. R. Gee, “The period styles and period-style restorations”

Chapter 1 offers an overview of the painting styles in the villa, which, in terms of A. Mau's framework, represent the Second (80–20 BCE), Third (20 BCE–45 CE), and Fourth (45–79 CE) Pompeian styles. It centers on G.'s research, which has aimed to determine the distinct workshop practices evident in the paintings and to consider experiences of viewing paintings in different spaces. Her methods encompass close analysis of the formal and physical characteristics of the paintings, combined with pigment analyses conducted by P. Baraldi, the results of which are provided in more depth in Chapter 11.

One of the most significant contributions of G.'s work is her interpretation of the period-style restorations in Villa A. While the practice of preserving and replacing wall paintings in the villa has been discussed previously (para. 41 n.1), G. and her colleagues have determined that it was much more common than previously thought. In this chapter, she offers detailed accounts of the preserved and recreated Second- and Third-Style paintings in Atrium 5, Room 8, Cubiculum 11, and Triclinium 14. She also reviews the extensive group of Fourth-Style paintings, which are the most prevalent style in the villa (preserved in nearly 40 rooms), and identifies two major phases of Fourth-Style paintings executed by distinct groups of artists.

G.'s research has far-reaching implications and applicability in the field of painting studies. It expands our understanding of the sophistication of Roman painters’ material knowledge and technical proficiencies, and it highlights the productive integration of different methodologies, including close visual analyses of the paintings and scientific investigations of pigments and mortars. This work furthers scholarship regarding the interests of particular patrons in the Bay of Naples. At Oplontis, it appears as though the various owners of the villa were intent on maintaining and emulating heirloom decorative programs and also, in the later phases, on commissioning painted ensembles that would enhance and not detract from the villa's striking architectural spaces and seaside setting.

2. E. M. Moormann, “The Second-Style paintings at Oplontis”

The following three chapters each focus on a single Pompeian painting style. M. discusses the five rooms in the villa that preserve Second-Style paintings: Atrium 5, Cubiculum 11, Triclinium 14, Oecus 15, and Oecus 23. He emphasizes that, while the paintings in these rooms share decorative traits such as color palette and similarities in the rendering of architectural details, each room is also distinct. A succinct review of previous scholarship on the Second Style underpins M.'s analysis of the villa's examples in which he notes that, unlike other villas with Second-Style paintings, those in Villa A do not represent life-size human figures. For this reason, he does not believe that the paintings convey allegorical or mythological symbolism, as suggested by some scholars (in particular G. Sauron, para. 99 n.10). In M.'s reading, the paintings, which adorn rooms at the center of the earliest architectural phase of the villa, are vivid expressions of the cultural and artistic affluence of elite patrons in mid-1st-c. BCE Campania and are therefore aligned with the pursuit and practice of otium in the Campanian countryside.

3. J. R. Clarke, “Decorations of the early Third Style at Oplontis Villa A”

C. addresses the Third-Style decorations in the villa, using his earlier investigations and publications on the decorations as a springboard. As he notes, evidence for Third-Style paintings is scarce in the Roman world because of the delicate nature of the fugitive colors such as lilac, pink, light blue, and light green that were introduced with this phase. The pigments were applied in a secco technique which deteriorates more rapidly than those painted in pure fresco technique. In his analysis of this group of paintings (which decorate rooms 22, 25, 12, 10 bis, 17, 18, and 8) he focuses on the function of the space and the chronology of the paintings, integrating discussion of contemporary mosaics. He also presents a catalog of fragmentary Third-Style paintings from excavations by the Italian Ministry of Culture in the 1960s and 1970s, which were cleaned and studied by the Oplontis Project over the course of many years. Comparing the group of Third-Style decorations with those from contemporaneous ensembles in the Bay of Naples and in Rome, C. determines that the villa's Third-Style paintings date to early in this period; they should be categorized as belonging to the “Candelabra Style” and therefore placed in the Augustan period, between 20 and 1 BCE.

4. D. Esposito, “Il IV Stile nella Villa A di Oplontis”

E. situates the Fourth-Style paintings within comparative ensembles in the Bay of Naples and concentrates on chronology as well as identifying specific workshops. He determines that most of the Fourth-Style paintings date between 45 and 62 CE, suggesting that the majority of the ensembles fall within the reign of Nero. Highlighting specific motifs, such as medial zones with vegetal “candelabra” or thyrsi, and technical facets that might distinguish the paintings in Villa A from contemporaneous examples, he establishes that the Fourth-Style paintings in the villa compare closely with those of the Villa di Diomede in Pompeii and those of the Villa Asellius in Boscoreale. He concludes, however, that certain other villas in the region – in particular the Villa Sora at Torre del Greco and the villas at Stabia – preserve painted ensembles that are more pictorial and better executed than those in Villa A (para. 456 nn.101–3).

5. B. Bergmann, “Reading the garden paintings in Villa A at Oplontis”

Illusionistic garden paintings in Villa A are preserved in an interior garden (Room 20) near Atrium 5 and in a series of small east-wing garden rooms (rooms 68–87) running along the west colonnade of the pool. B. confirms that they were painted by one workshop in the mid-1st c. CE. While they have close parallels at other sites in Campania, their detailed visual elements and placement within an extensive, landscaped property make them distinctive within the genre. The chapter briefly describes the murals and considers the paintings within their architectural contexts. B.'s discussion draws on Jashemski's seminal work in excavating and analyzing the gardens, alongside the features of the real plants, birds, and garden sculptures they depict. Highlighting the symmetry in the paintings and their alignment with the physical gardens, B. emphasizes the ways in which vertical axes of the central paintings intersect with views through architecture. She also points out that all aspects of the rooms along the western colonnade of the pool are composed in relation to one another; they were created by the designers to accentuate the interplay of real and fictive and to enhance a “tension between sensations” (para. 469). The second part of the chapter centers on marble sculpture and relief works in the garden, which was one of the major themes of the 2016 exhibition Leisure & Luxury in the Age of Nero: The Villas of Oplontis near Pompeii.

6. I. van der Graaff, “The recovered tympanum of Cubiculum 11: A new document for the study of city walls”

This section centers on a harbor scene painted in the tympanum of Cubiculum 11 that belongs to the first phase of painting in the villa and dates to ca. 50 BCE. Owing to poor preservation, its details were not fully understood until the discovery of photographs in 2008 documenting the painting shortly after excavation. Here, v. d. G. discusses the now-evident city walls depicted in the painting. He considers representations of city walls in Roman paintings, mosaics, and reliefs more broadly, and suggests that the proliferation of scenes featuring walls in the 1st c. BCE was linked to Rome's colonization of the Italian peninsula (para. 527 n.18).Footnote ⁷ Situating the painting within the context of the decorative program of Villa A, he proposes that the representation of walls in the harbor scene may have denoted the growing peace and security in the mid-1st c. BCE that resulted from Rome's secured and expanded power on the peninsula and across the Mediterranean.

7. G. S. Tucker and M. Naglak, “Pinguntur enim portus: The spatio-temporal context of maritime landscape painting at Villa A”

Expanding further on harbor imagery, T. and N. investigate the changing locations of these painted scenes within the architecture of the villa over time. Their research employs quantitative methods that use space syntax analysis on examples from Villa A, as well as other sites in the region. Using two analytical approaches – access graph (or j-graph) and visibility analyses (calculated using depthmapX) – they are able to “characterize” each space and wall with a maritime painting within a “system on a continuous spectrum as either integrated or secluded and either visible or hidden” (para. 540–41 for more detail regarding methods). Their work reveals a pattern of placements for harbor scenes in Roman domestic paintings, demonstrating that these scenes shift from rooms meant for invited guests (e.g., cubicula) in Second-Style painted decoration to more trafficked and publicly accessible areas associated with Third- and Fourth-Style programs. Like van der Graaff, they see this shift as connected to the expanding prominence of Roman power at the end of the 1st c. BCE and early 1st c. CE.

8. P. Baronio, “Oplontis, Villa A: Alcune considerazioni sulla ricostruzione digitale degli affreschi degli ambienti 12, 20, 25, 31 e 46”

The Oplontis Project has embraced digital tools to document and present a number of rooms in Villa A. B. describes the multiple methods applied in his virtual reconstructions, which integrate archival photos and drawings with new photography (and photogrammetry), digital rendering, and data derived from pigment analyses. In addition to providing high-quality digital reconstructions of now-faded walls and schemes, B.'s work has facilitated the project's use of 3D models in their study and presentation of the villa.

9. S. Joshel and L. Petersen, “Seeing slaves at Villa A”

J. and P. demonstrate how decorative programs can contribute to our understanding of discrete circulation patterns and the use of space by the villa's enslaved population. The authors first describe the general composition of enslaved persons in the villa, their contribution to its day-to-day functioning, and their invisibility in the scholarship. This background lays a foundation on which to consider how the enslaved inhabitants may have circulated and lived in the villa. The opening paragraphs emphasize the large size and wide range of roles for enslaved workers in Roman villas, which would encompass permanent and temporary “house” and agricultural staff on the property (paras. 585–89: cooks, bakers, doorkeepers, gardeners, to name a few), as well as those who helped transport the family from residence to residence (litter-bearers, runners, grooms) and personal servants (maids, secretaries, administrators). In leading readers to better “see the slaves” in Villa A, the authors rely on the distinction between strategy and tactics (para. 591 n.21), which stress space and time in studying activities involved in servitude.Footnote ⁸

Discussing the strategy of control in the design of the building, J. and P. identify the designated service areas of the villa, which comprise a kitchen (Room 7) and a covered portico with service courtyard (Room 32). The authors stress that these areas are distinct from other architectural spaces in the villa: they are approached through non-axial entrances and are centrally placed yet marginalized in plan, i.e., in spaces removed from the villa's views, gardens, and fields. Highlighting other features such as stone thresholds with door pins that could cut off service areas from the rest of the residence, and zebra-striped painted walls that would have choreographed the movement of the servants, they emphasize the regulated spaces in which the enslaved persons would have lived and worked. In addressing tactics as a means to escape control, J. and P. speculate that the servants may have used avoidance and/or interruption to manipulate the imposed spatial control, and that the expanded later phases of the villa could have assisted such “misbehaviors.”

10. J. R. Clarke, “The study of fresco fragments: Methods and attributions”

The volume pivots back to mural paintings in the villa, as C. presents the methods and processes used in studying the thousands of painted plaster fragments recovered in the excavations of the 1960s and 1970s, a subset of which are catalogued at the end of the third chapter, on Third-Style paintings. These fragments have not previously been recorded. In the current chapter, C. shares intriguing stories of discovery and recovery that are inevitably part of work on legacy materials – i.e., discovering notes referring to potential sites of origin and unearthing telling archival materials – and describes the project's 10 years of work to clean, inventory, photograph, describe, enter into a database, and reconstruct three distinct groups of paintings: first, those recovered in the excavations of the villa between 1964 and 1983, when the excavators were preparing the villa to become a tourist site; second, a smaller group of excavated fragments found in Room 28, which came from another nearby site, the so-called Villa C; and third, fragments recovered in pre-79 CE levels in excavations by the Soprintendenza and by the Oplontis Project between 2006 and 2010, including fragments from ancient remodeling activities following the earthquake of 62 CE. The work resulted in significant additions to the decorative program of Villa A, including a second story of decoration in the atrium, the retrieval of a section of an unexcavated wall of Oecus 15, and reconstruction of ceiling decorations belonging to rooms 8 and 89, and a third for which the space has not been identified. This description of methods is a paradigm of good practices and the associated catalog of fragments is excellent.

11. P. Baraldi, “Indagini su materiali e tecniche della pittura della Villa A di Oplontis”

The identification of the materials and techniques used in the paintings in Villa A is chronicled by B., who describes his integrated approaches to the investigations, including digital microscopy, ultra-violet fluorescence, Raman spectroscopy, and Fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy. B. focuses his research on the paintings in 22 rooms of the house spanning all decorative phases: rooms 1, 2, 4, 5 (atrium), 8, 11, 14, 15, 20, 22, 23, 25, 31, 40, 46, 60, 68, 70, 77, 79, 87, and 94. His analyses have detected pigments that are not widely used in the Campanian painter's palette, such as aragonite and green earth (celadonite and glauconite). They have also confirmed specific applications of cinnabar and cuprorivaite or Egyptian blue, which have factored heavily in the interpretations offered, particularly in Chapters 1 and 3. B. also notes the distinctions of palette and execution in different spaces (in particular, Room 14). He underscores the variability of workshop execution and pinpoints the instances when the identifiable traits or “signatures” of multiple artisans are represented in a single room, again emphasizing the sophistication of material use and technical mastery of Roman artisans.

12. R. Scognamiglio, “Motivi decorativi di II Stile: Rankenmutter, thiasoi marini e fregi popolati”

S. explores figures represented in Second-Style paintings, which are rare at Oplontis, appearing primarily in miniature friezes. In general, these figures of the Rankenmutter, a vegetal goddess emerging from a volute, and those represented in marine-based thiasoi with mythical sea creatures, as well as other peopled bands, have not been studied comprehensively. S. considers these representations and concludes that in Villa A the figural friezes do not carry meaningful iconographic references. Instead, she proposes that the bands were more decorative in function, with artists repeating the patterns, in this case figural, to adorn architectural elements in the paintings easily and quickly. An extensive and extremely useful catalog of these frieze types follows her interpretive essay.

13. R. Scognamiglio, “Gli stucchi dell'ambiente 20”

S. next examines the use of two distinct variations of Ionic kyma moldings in Room 20 and proposes that variant A dates to earlier than the earthquake in 62 CE, while variant B follows this event. The moldings were not found in situ, but again, by working with archival photos, S. is able to place them with certainty atop the Fourth-Style paintings in this room. The moldings share similar profiles and this distinction of profiles, and chronologies, adds to existing typologies. In general, studies on stucco are less represented in scholarship, and this chapter, along with F. Calosi's catalog of stucco cornices (Chapter 23), are welcome additions; they serve as valuable examples for the documentation and publication of Roman stuccowork.

14. Z. Schofield, “Observations on the role of Fourth-Style decorative bands: The unseen relationship between the Second and the Fourth Styles in Villa A”

S. addresses decorative bands in the programs of Villa A, stressing that the bands serve as the “structural framework that organizes and controls all other elements of decoration” (para. 1148). This welcome chapter forefronts what are often sidelined, yet fundamental, elements in decorative ensembles. In her studies of the decorative bands at Oplontis, S. has identified 152 patterns that stem from a core group of 38. These were adapted and applied by many different decorators, as she terms them, working freehand, and likely laying out their own guidelines. S. discusses the individuality of identifiable hands, noting their expression through brushstroke, and differences of size and pattern within common types, as well as instances where a decorator “breaks free” from the formula, embellishing a band with additional sprigs or tendrils. This essential research will serve as a springboard for future work on decorative bands in this region and in other areas of the Roman world.

19–20. R. R. Benefiel with J. F. DiBiasie Sammons, “The scope and typology of the graffiti at Oplontis,” and “Catalogue of the graffiti”

In a seminal chapter, B. and DiB. S. present and interpret the graffiti in Villa A. Their study has identified 86 inscriptions across the building, written in both Greek and Latin, which demonstrate clear distinctions between the writers at Oplontis and those in an urban center such as Pompeii. Unlike Pompeii, however, Villa A does not preserve painted inscriptions. Of the 86 examples, 84 are incised and 2 are written in charcoal. In all, the graffiti encompass drawings, writings, and series of numerals, and each group ranges in size from approximately 1 cm to 48 cm high. The authors situate the reader well, first describing the distribution of graffiti in the villa with accompanying plans that indicate the placement of the inscriptions with outlines and shading, and then systematically discussing each of the inscriptions, which are illustrated with photographs and frequent line drawings. B. and DiB. S. characterize the graffiti in the villa as variable and representative of a few individuals marking the built environment. They conclude that the inscriptions likely reflect the nature of the setting and function of Villa A as a country and seaside estate away from the “bustle of the city” and the concerns of populations therein.

A catalog of the graffiti follows. It begins with an extraordinarily helpful plan that highlights areas with graffiti in the villa and includes images of the walls with markers (circles and arrows) indicating their placement. The format is straightforward and includes translations of the inscriptions and succinct descriptions of size and form.

21. R. Gee, “Catalogue of the wall paintings”

This catalog complements G.'s introductory chapter (Chapter 1), providing an exhaustive account of the preserved paintings in Villa A. As she notes, of the 99 excavated spaces in the villa, 61 retain original painted decoration on the walls or the ceilings. The catalog is systematically organized. G. methodically describes all walls and ceilings in a consistent cardinal sequence, from north to east, south, then west, concluding with the ceiling. As with the other fundamental contributions in the volume, this catalog offers a high standard that will inform and structure continued work at Oplontis; it will serve as an exemplar for other projects.

23. F. Calosi, “Catalogo delle cornici di stucco”

C.'s catalog presents the stucco moldings from 31 rooms of the villa. It offers a typology of the stuccoes, in which the author has identified 19 distinct types of profiles and 30 types of moldings. While the catalog does not accompany an interpretive chapter, as is the case with the other media, it complements the other studies and significantly augments the volume. In contrast to paintings and mosaics, stucco is typically understudied and under-published. This catalog, which includes detailed drawings and photographs, advances research in the field, and this reader hopes to see further work on this valuable body of material.

24. Z. Schofield, “Catalogue of carpet borders”

This chapter complements and expands S.'s work on decorative bands (Chapter 14). The catalog of carpet borders, which are integral features of Fourth-Style paintings, documents the patterns in 26 rooms of the villa. Organized by room, it provides an account of the patterns, location, and dimensions of preserved bands in the villa. Each entry is accompanied by photographs and digital renderings of distinct bands and corner patterns, as well as an extensive description of each pattern. As with each of the catalogs in this volume, S.'s contribution provides fundamental and well-structured information that will undoubtedly serve to inform continued work at Oplontis and elsewhere.

16. E. M. Moormann, “Marble sculpture and architectural elements”

Well known for his insightful studies of Roman painting and sculpture, M. has the challenge of cataloguing works that have already been well published by scholars such as S. De Caro, A. De Franciscis, and L. Fergola. To his credit, M. does not tediously repeat facts and interpretations that are by now well established, but instead provides a brisk summary that occasionally disputes a previously assigned date or meaning. He dates many statues to the Claudian/Neronian period (40s–50s CE), which suggests that they postdate the first, Late Republican, phase of the building (ca. 50 BCE), when the spectacular wall paintings of the atrium and cubicula were produced. (This, of course, raises the question of what, if any, statuary originally decorated these spaces.Footnote ⁹) Their association with the villa's later phases, when an entire new wing was added towards the east, contributes to what M. rightly characterizes as the “marmorization” that began in domestic spaces in Italy in the Julio-Claudian period. Against a backdrop of colored stones in walls and pavements (discussed by Barker and Fant in chapters reviewed by Herrmann below) were scores of white marble statues; among the villas destroyed by Vesuvius, their quantity was second only to the Villa dei Papiri at Herculaneum.

Recovered by modern archaeological methods (including detailed recordkeeping), the sculptural ensemble at Oplontis holds out the possibility of providing valuable evidence for sculptural display in a luxury Roman villa.Footnote ¹⁰ As it turns out, however, at the time of the eruption in 79 CE the villa was undergoing repairs and many works were apparently in storage. Those that stood outdoors, however, seem to have escaped this fate and were apparently left in situ: the sculpture surrounding the pool (Room 96) is the most notable example, but the white marble heads on tall shafts of (usually) gray stone, set along the diagonal path in the garden (Room 36), also document an ancient placement.Footnote ¹¹ Sculptural finds have been made on two sides of the pool: an eclectic group of winged Victories, deities, and ideal figures were aligned along the east, while at the south end stood the satyr and hermaphrodite group on a marble slab and, behind, a large crater outfitted as a fountain and set in a basin.

M. publishes two early photographs (figs. 16.40 and 16.41)Footnote ¹² documenting the satyr and hermaphrodite group (cat. no. 10) in its approximate original findspot near the pool's edge; they show the group positioned with the hermaphrodite's back toward the water, in what I believe to be its likely original position because otherwise the element of surprise – that the “she” is really a “he” – is completely lost to anyone standing along the pool's long western flank. Not long after these photographs, however, the group was turned, probably at the request of a film crew mentioned as shooting at the villa in the spring of 1978.Footnote ¹³ (A photograph taken around that time, frequently published, has led scholars to think that this was the ancient orientation.Footnote ¹⁴) De Caro, who found the group on November 12, 1977, does not mention how the statue was oriented, but as virtually all the statues around the pool had fallen it is probably not possible to reconstruct its original appearance anyway. What we can conclude, however, is that diners reclining in the villa's so-called diaeta (Room 78) would have seen the sculpture from a different side than those eating in the triclinia (rooms 65 and 74) to the north; for the fortunate guest invited on multiple occasions to the villa, this would have been a visual delight.

On the opposite side of the pool stood a line of statues interspersed with what Jashemski concluded were oleanders and plane trees. They appear to have been arranged loosely as pairs: two flying Victories; two heads of males, possibly Hercules and Bacchus, set up as herms on pillars; the goddess Diana and a male of uncertain identity but unlikely to be her brother Apollo. Although reproducing the same figural type, the two Archaistic Victories (cat. nos. 4–5) are not identical in size or detailing – yet further evidence that copying was not the rote, mechanistic process it is sometimes imagined to be. The type is known in some 11 other versions, but only the Oplontis two preserve evidence of wings (now lost) attached at the back; peculiarly, while they lack any sign of wings, the other versions are all outfitted with the shoulder padding that functions as an accessory for wings.Footnote ¹⁵

As this series of pairs indicates, pendants were popular at the villa, just as in other Roman sculptural displays. At the far end of the complex, in Porticus 33, were found statues of two male and two female centaurs (cat. nos. 11–14), clearly intended to be displayed as a foursome.Footnote ¹⁶ M. is not the first commentator to see them as of mediocre quality, but they manage to pack a visual punch despite standing less than a meter in height. Miraculously, each preserves his/her original attributes: one female holds a lyre, the other a crater, while one male slings a dead boar over his shoulder and the other carries a small deer. M. is surely correct in seeing the group as appropriate decorations for a dinner party in which the guests would feast on meat, imbibe wine, and be entertained with music. Citing an earlier author, he contrasts the “civilizing” aspects of the female to the more “ferocious” male; such distinctions could easily blur, however, as consuming excessive wine could quickly turn a tipsy centaur from jolly to belligerent.

As even this short review makes clear, the Oplontis collection was eclectic in its mix of genres (portraits, ideal figures), styles (Archaistic, Classical, and later), themes, and dates (from late 1st c. BCE to mid-1st c. CE). As M. reminds us (para. 1315), such variety is typical of Roman villas decorated with numerous sculptures. The statues’ quality also varied considerably, from somewhat crude works like the centaurs to “masterpieces” like the satyr and hermaphrodite. Indeed, the Oplontis version of this group surpasses many of the other versions in both its high quality and its excellent preservation: it is one of only two versions that preserve the satyr's flexed right foot entangled with that of the hermaphrodite, a small detail that nonetheless has great bearing on how their physical encounter will end: the hermaphrodite destabilizes the reclining satyr by pushing hard against his face, but he impedes her escape by catching her foot. However, this detail is not visible in any of the photographs in M.'s chapter, but only in a subsequent discussion (Chapter 17) by Barker and Fant, to which there is no cross-reference.Footnote ¹⁷ Indeed, notwithstanding its copious photographic documentation, the chapter often fails to show works in the four views (front, back, two profiles) that are standard for the catalog genre.Footnote ¹⁸

15. J. R. Clarke and S. Barker, “Reconstructing the decorative program of Diaeta 78”

The discussions of marble veneering begin with the most extravagant and innovative unit of the villa, a large diaeta. This “daytime room” belongs to the villa's last major expansion and decoration in late Julio-Claudian times (ca. 45 CE). Its complex form, a chamber with an exedra and alcove, anticipates rooms in the Flavian palace of Rome. In a book full of surprises, Diaeta 78 produces a major one: not only did it have an elaborate colored marble pavement and wall revetment, but above the marble socle the walls were sheathed in wood. This combination of wainscotting and marble is, at the very least, rare in antiquity and perhaps unknown even in modern times. The wood paneling itself has disintegrated but its impressions survived in the hardened volcanic mud, recorded at the time of excavation but now largely disappeared. The authors gather not only the unpublished evidence from the archives but also offer other Campanian parallels for the architectural use of wood (although none involving wall paneling).

The colored marble decoration of Diaeta 78 is almost entirely missing. Like almost all the marble veneering in the villa, it was removed, presumably for reuse or resale, following the earthquake of 62 CE or perhaps other tremors that preceded the eruption of Vesuvius. Nevertheless, the remaining fragments of the colorful marbles from Greece and Asia Minor and the impressions of the missing tiles make it possible for C. and B. to reconstruct vividly the original decorative compositions and, in some cases, to offer alternative color schemes. Their knowledge of comparable marble work and of the vast recent literature renders these reconstructions solidly based and highly plausible. Identification of ancient colored marbles is traditionally done by eye. Its success is tied to the expertise of those making the identifications. Here, thanks to the authors’ knowledge of recent developments in the field, the identifications inspire great confidence. As is customary, they often use the Italian names for the stones since the ancient names are less known and can be problematic. Commendably, they introduce the idea that red marble need not be the often-cited rosso antico from the southern Peloponnese and may in some (if not many) cases be the red marble of Iasos in Caria (here by mistake called marmor Lasense rather than Iasense or Iassense; one hopes that such errors in an e-book can still be corrected). The excellent photograph (fig. 15.24) of the piece in question makes it possible to verify the validity of their attribution by comparison, for example, with similarly white-spotted pieces of marmor Iassense in Oxford's Corsi collection.Footnote ¹⁹ This may be the earliest dated presence of this type of stone, which was previously thought to have been used primarily in Late Antiquity.

C. and B. undertake a virtual tile-by-tile assessment of the pavement in the western exedra of Diaeta 78, reconstructing the decorative scheme and assessing the high quality of the workmanship. They observe that most marble pavements at Herculaneum contain reused material, whereas in Diaeta 78 the tiles all seem newly made and regular. Unlike many other Campanian pavements, there was no prefabrication of large units. The authors ultimately provide an almost art historical assessment of the pavements and revetments of the diaeta, placing them, in terms of quality of work, design, and materials, in the highest rank of works in the Vesuvian towns.

17. S. Barker and J. C. Fant, “Stone sources and types: Report on provenance analyses for the sculpture and architectural marbles from Oplontis”

This section deals chiefly with the quarry sources of the white, gray, and black marbles of the villa. Unlike colored marble, these marbles are very difficult to identify by eye, but scientific techniques and increased knowledge of ancient quarries over the last 30 years and more have made it possible to achieve considerable certainty. Indeed, a laboratory analysis of 57 samples forms the core of the chapter. The objects sampled range from simple slabs (thresholds, windowsills, etc.) through architectural sculpture (column shafts, capitals, bases) to figural sculpture (statues, statuettes). Past samplings at archaeological sites have often drawn only on fragmentary pieces in storerooms, but in this case (tiny) chips were taken from relatively complete and often key products of which many remained in their original functional context. The Italian authorities responsible for the site and the project directors are all to be commended for cooperating in this very useful initiative.

The archaeometric analysis by D. Attanasio, a leading scientist in the field of marble studies, is presented in Table 17.3 and a series of eight graphs (graphs 17.1–8). Multiple techniques were used to determine the quarries that yielded the samples: analysis of stable isotopes of carbon and oxygen; paramagnetic resonance spectroscopy (EPR); and determination of grain size and relative whiteness. The characteristics of individual samples were compared with A.'s database on Mediterranean quarries. In most cases the samples could have multiple possible origins, but a scientific program was used to determine the most probable. The samples were divided into three groups: “flat” objects (thresholds, etc.), architectural sculptures (column shafts, capitals, bases), and sculpture. Generally the results were clear, but low probabilities and uncertainties prevailed in the case of the gray/black column shafts.

B. and F. present the results of the analyses. In spite of the translucence and creamy color of the “flat” pieces selected (which has led to speculation that they might be Dokimeian marble from modern Afyon in western Asia Minor), 14 of the 15 pieces proved to be certainly or probably from Luna (Carrara), while one could not be identified. Evidently even the plain white marble of this villa was selected with attention to quality. Two of the gray/black column shafts could be attributed to the quarries of Lesbos with a high degree of probability, but no very probable results were obtained for the other nine; isotopically, those formed a tight group outside the fields for the quarries considered, giving the impression of coming from an unknown or overlooked quarry. The results for the white architectural sculpture, however, were satisfying; the marble of all but one of the 16 capitals and the single column base could be assigned confidently: 11 from Carrara, 4 from Mt. Hymettus, and 1 from Dokimeion. Of the figural sculptures 13 were sampled: 4 could be assigned to Mt. Pentelikon, 5 to Paros, and 3 to Luna; the marble of one sculpture could be assigned to Dokimeion with considerable probability and that of another to Proconnesus with just a low degree of probability.

These scientifically based results should be contrasted with the marble identifications of white marble offered by E. Moormann in Chapter 16 (“Marble sculpture and architectural elements”). He generally describes the material only as “white marble” but for a few sculptures offers quarry identifications. It seems clear, however, that this was done on an optical basis, for he seems not to have had access to, or knowledge of, the laboratory analyses performed by Attanasio. In three or perhaps four cases, M.'s Pentelic attributions coincide with A.'s, but in four other cases they do not. M.'s mixed success rate in identifying the sculptures by eye demonstrates the hazards even for an experienced scholar who attempts to give the provenance of ancient white marbles without scientific back-up. A problem for understanding this publication's sections on marble is the apparent lack of communication between the authors: not only does M. not refer to A.'s analyses, but B., F., and A. do not use M.'s catalog numbers.

In their “Discussion of architectural marbles,” B. and F. point out that the general use of Carrara marble throughout the villa is not unexpected, for this was the normal marble used in the Vesuvian towns and villas. Other studies by the same authors have shown that, in the towns’ later phases, other white marbles from more distant sources not only make their appearance but also tend to be concentrated in conspicuous places. This suggests that the public could distinguish and appreciate different varieties of white marble, at least when the material was fresh. The absence of non-Italian white marbles may suggest a certain degree of economizing, despite the overall abundance of marble in the villa. The use of marble columns as found in the eastern wing, however, is rare in the domestic architecture and even in the public buildings of the Vesuvian cities, and marks Villa A as lavish and ambitious. The authors place those columns in the long eastern Porticus 60, where one column remains in situ. The portico can be dated after 45 CE because of its Fourth-Style paintings. Like Moormann, B. and F. tend to regard almost all the gray columns as being made of Lesbos marble. Gray marble columns may also have been used in the northern propylon at the time of the Third Style. In their assessment of the results of the laboratory analyses, B. and F. draw on their impressive knowledge of previous research on the use of marble in Campania. They stress how plausible it would be on visual grounds for all, not just some, of the gray columns to be from Lesbos. There are, after all, quarries of gray marble on Lesbos that have not been analyzed archaeometrically. B. and F. are also uncomfortable with the identification of Hymettian marble in some of the capitals; the issue of these conflicting identifications, however, is left hanging.

B. and F. then proceed to reconstruct the logistics and the processes of carving the very large quantity of marble used. They stress the practical advantages of working the marbles at the building site, assembling evidence for marble workshops on building sites at Pompeii and Pozzuoli, and argue that a local workshop produced the architectural decoration of Villa A. They cite the capitals and columns, many unfinished, in the Central Baths of Pompeii as examples of a working area where marble decoration that had been imported in a rough state was being finished. It seems to this writer, however, that the fully finished decorated Tuscan capital in the baths is the product of a workman from the Aegean. The eastern style is identifiable from the deeply grooved, pointed acanthus leaves (the so-called acanthus spinosus; fig. 17.12 and n.84). The carving was, indeed, being done locally, but in this case it does not appear that locals were doing it. None of the authors go deeply into the stylistic analysis of the capitals. It should, however, have been pointed out that the capitals of Villa A are highly Augustan in their foliage and modeling and do not fit into local practices in the way the authors propose. The capitals of the Praedia of Julia Felix or the House of Octavius Quartio, which they cite for comparison, have a different type of acanthus, are flatter, and make more emphatic use of drilled outlines and details, as do the capitals from Latium assembled in the exhibition Nerone.Footnote ²⁰ During Augustan times, however, there was extensive production of high-quality architectural decoration on the Bay of Naples that was based on urban Roman models and made use of the Augustan type of acanthus seen at Villa A.Footnote ²¹ It seems likely that the capitals in Villa A were produced by a workshop involved in, or descended from, this activity. If carved specifically for Porticus 60, the capitals would become important documents of the survival of Augustan models and techniques into late Julio-Claudian times. Their Augustan flavor, however, arouses the suspicion that they could be antiques acquired from some other dismantled structure.

An Augustan date, as well as an Augustan flavor, has recently been advanced by P. Pensabene. In an article that appeared almost simultaneously with the present e-book and was not available for consultation by B. and F., Pensabene provides a very detailed description and analysis of the architectural decoration in Villa A, in which much attention is paid to issues of style, workshop, and chronology.Footnote ²² He places most of the Corinthianizing capitals firmly in the Augustan period (15 BCE–10 CE). Only a small group of slightly later copies are post-Augustan. Among the Augustan pieces, P. distinguishes a workshop fully at home in the urban tradition and another that could be of more local origin and accustomed to working in local stone. He observes the various expedients used to adapt the decoration for reuse after the earthquake of 62 CE. Some capitals were sawn in half and hollowed out, presumably to fit around a brick core and surmount a brick column. He does not attempt to reconstruct the original places of use of the capitals, but he observes that the unexcavated western part of Villa A could have had a portico symmetrical to the grand east portico with its marble columns. The capitals and column shafts could have been made for an earlier phase of the villa or else brought from elsewhere. P. also catalogs a volute from an elegant Augustan Ionic or composite capital and a magnificent Corinthianizing capital fully in the Neronian style. Neither capital was included in Moormann's catalog, but some fragments of an apparently identical Corinthianizing piece were (cat. nos. 140, 144–45, figs. 16.176–77).

In their treatment of figural sculpture (“Discussion of sculptural marbles”), B. and F. pose the question of what the provenance of the sculptural marbles can say about the villa's assemblage. They find limited answers and generally turn them in the direction of the most practical solution for performing the work. The variety of the marbles is more or less typical of other sites on the Bay of Naples. The presence of Dokimeian is a novelty but not implausible, given its monumental use at Sperlonga probably in the Tiberian period.Footnote ²³ The use of Proconnesian for the head of a goddess seems not only unparalleled in the Vesuvian towns but implausible: I do not recall that Proconnesian has previously been associated with such elegant, classicistic work, but perhaps future research will produce parallels. The presence of Luna marble indicates that at least some of the sculptures in the villa were produced in Italy. The variety of marbles, as well as the variety of dates, styles, and levels of quality, indicates that multiple workshops were involved. This variety could even result from purchasing sculpture on the market for antiques. To a slight degree, the use of specific marbles coincides with specific genres: the three statues of goddesses seem to be careful copies or variants of High Classical (Greek) works and are all in Pentelic; the four centaurs are in a baroque style and of Parian marble, but they may have been carved from a single block and thereby reflect a taste for groups of figures, rather than showing a connection between the style and the marble. A refined Augustan head of a boy is Parian, as is typical of high-quality portraits of the day; this portrait is so fine and its hairstyle so similar to that of Augustus’ intended heir, Gaius Caesar, that it may be a work by a sculptor in or from Rome.

B. and F. argue that local workshops could have created all the sculptures from unshaped, imported blocks. They assemble the extensive evidence for workshops around the Bay of Naples and reject Pensabene's efforts at distinguishing imported works from local ones on the basis of quality.Footnote ²⁴ They maintain that local sculptors were capable of producing portraits with up-to-date Imperial features, such as the portrait of the boy in Parian, but unfortunately support their argument by referring to a female portrait from Pozzuoli (fig. 17.34) whose hairstyle is not specifically Imperial but rather the common “turban coiffure.” In any event, accomplished classicistic sculpture certainly was produced around the Bay of Naples, with the authors citing two splendid copies of the “Hera Borghese” found at Baiae and signed in Greek by their makers, Aphrodisios of Athens and Carus of Pozzuoli. It seems legitimate to consider these statues as the products of a workshop that reproduced famous masterpieces from a rich collection of plaster casts, fragments of which have been found at Puteoli.Footnote ²⁵ Not only were the casts presumably brought from Greece, but at least one Athenian sculptor seems to have accompanied them.

B. and F. dedicate particular attention to a marble crater found next to the swimming pool at Villa A. Identified as Pentelic by Pensabene et al., it was considered an Athenian product.Footnote ²⁶ B. and F. subscribe strongly to the view that such Neo-Attic products may have been exported from Athens in the Late Hellenistic period, but by Imperial times they were produced primarily at Rome, where the major market was located. They argue that all the sculptures in Villa A other than the crater carved in Rome could have been produced by workshops on the Bay of Naples. Against this, however, it can be pointed out that large marble craters did continue to be sent to Italy from quarries in the East well into the 2nd c. CE, although the examples are in Dokimeian rather than Pentelic marble.Footnote ²⁷

The authors conclude their case for local workshops on a weak note, discussing two unfinished statuettes of Fortuna found at the villa. These do seem to be productions of a workshop established in the villa, but they are clumsy and amateurish, far from the high level of so many of the other figural sculptures and testimony to the poor competence of many of the local sculptors: the workshops at Puteoli, which apparently moved from Greece with their library of plaster casts and bevy of talented sculptors, should hardly be mentioned in the same breath with such local repairmen and part-time carvers. Those producing fine sculpture at Baiae expressed their connection with this transplanted Hellenic culture by signing their names in Greek. The humble carvers at work at Villa A in its last phase are plainly not connected with that elite tradition. Nonetheless, it is certainly to their credit that B., F., and Moormann provide the full picture of marble-working at the villa.

In their “Final remarks,” B. and F. write: “Occasionally, certain genres seem to coincide with ‘appropriate’ marble types, but just as often they do not” (para. 1874). While the variegated collection of sculptures in a variety of marbles at Villa A may seem like an almost random mixture which, as the authors point out, may be due to a haphazard history of purchase by their owners, it should be noted that elsewhere there are more coherent and unified programs of sculpture carried out with an “appropriate” marble type. The villa at Sperlonga presents a series of four mythological groups of Hellenistic type in white marble, along with a figure of Ganymede in polychrome marble, all quarried at Dokimeion. The baroque style is generally connected with east Greece, if not specifically with Pergamon; the sculptors sign themselves as from Rhodes. Here it is clear that, given the opportunity, sculptors would consistently choose themes and marbles connected with their home region. The authors’ review of sculptural assemblages on the Bay of Naples makes it clear that such ideal situations were rarely achieved and that sculptors could change from one marble to another when circumstances required. Still, even the assemblage from Villa A may conceal some preferences for “appropriate” marbles. The crater and the statues in Pentelic could have been bought from shops specialized in such things that had explicit links to Athens. There may also have been a regional workshop that had east Greek associations. As at Sperlonga, the boy with the goose at Oplontis combines a Hellenistic Asiatic theme with Dokimeian (Asiatic) marble.Footnote ²⁸ Scientific identifications of marble are still a relatively new field, and further research may lend more (or less) substance to these sorts of patterns that seem to connect workshops, quarries, and geography.

18. S. Barker and J. C. Fant, “Lithic decoration: Sources, styles, repairs and spoliation”

In the original construction (mid-1st c. BCE), lithic decoration consisted of stone inserts in white mosaics and, more significantly, alabaster thresholds, which place Villa A among the most luxurious constructions of its day in terms of stonework. The many Second-Style paintings with imitation alabaster make clear the popularity of alabaster at this time. The white and honey-colored alabaster itself could not be securely linked to a source, but stone from Turkish quarries and Italian alabastro a ghiaccione from Monte Circeo are the leading candidates.

At the time of the Third Style (1–15 CE), lithic additions were rather modest. Some steps were added in a white alabaster not previously used. White marble appears in thresholds and the edging of a pool. Fountains have mediocre, ordinario-grade elements in Luna marble. In the propylon of the northern colonnade, bardiglio strips of gray Luna marble set off the attractive black-and-white ornamental mosaics. Stone inserts into white mosaic pavements are normally limestone and slate in the Second-Style period, and colored marble in the Third-Style phase.

The Fourth-Style phase is dated by its paintings to 45 CE or later. At the start of this section, B. and F. place the phase in the Neronian period (54–68 CE), but at the end of the chapter they date it to ca. 45 and so in the reign of Claudius. The Neronian Corinthianizing capital in the villa published by Pensabene tends to favor the later date.Footnote ²⁹ In this phase there is an increased commitment of resources to marble decor, a phenomenon also seen in contemporary Pompeii and Herculaneum. Many marble thresholds in white Luna marble were installed in the villa; while exotic marbles are absent, the sheer quantity of Luna remains impressive. Brecciated Luna provides an unusual enrichment in the revetment of the swimming pool. Marble inserts in mosaic assume a new richness and refinement. Stone inserts had been irregular, but starting in the Third-Style phase they became progressively more regular. The colonnaded Porticus 60 represents the climax of this development, with 2,090 carefully finished inserts in its white mosaic floor. The plain white marbles and local stones used in earlier pavements are now excluded.

B. and F. formulate a novel but convincing hierarchy among the colorful imported marbles. One group is the “Imperial marbles,” consisting of giallo antico, cipollino, portasanta, africano, and pavonazzetto (yellow, greenish, red and black, white, and blue-gray), the staples of high-status buildings, along with other richly colored marbles that are not generally part of this Imperial quintet. The authors describe the use of some non-Imperial marbles in Porticus 60 as “bold and innovative”: on this list are breccia corallina, breccia di Settebasi, breccia di Aleppo, fior di pesco, and alabaster. There was also a hierarchy within the marbles of the portico: the more colorful ones were placed in front of more important doorways. The pavement of the portico is opulent and elegant, though not on the level of the Imperial court since it does not include the most exotic stones such as serpentino from Laconia and the Egyptian stones.

B. and F. then trace evolving fashions for colored stones across the 1st c. BCE and 1st c. CE. They use the pavement of Porticus 60 as a chronological reference point for the introduction of exotic colored marbles around the Bay of Naples. Following the earthquake of 62 CE, intensely colored igneous rocks do appear, sometimes as isolated highlights on the counters of bars. The climax of this trend is reached with the opus sectile marble pavements, such as one in Herculaneum's Casa dei Cervi, which avoids repetitive color schemes and turns into a sampler of beautiful stones from all around the Mediterranean.

Turning to the wall revetment and pavements of the east wing at the time of the Fourth Style, with its grandiose gray marble colonnade and swimming pool, the authors meticulously reconstruct, contextualize, and illustrate the largely stripped decoration. The repertory of marbles used for the slabs is largely the same as those of the small marble inserts in the pavement of Porticus 60, a combination of both Imperial marbles and “innovative” ones. Coral- and yellow- or ivory-colored breccia corallina, otherwise uncommon in the Vesuvian towns, is the most heavily used. Wall revetments are framed rectangular panels covering the lower parts of walls (socles or dados). Striking pavements in two rooms contrast yellow giallo antico and black slate, one of the local stones that had generally fallen out of favor just before the eruption of Vesuvius. The cracking and repairs indicate heavy wear, as well as the effects of the earthquake of 62 CE and perhaps other tremors.

B. and F. then turn to the imitation marble in the wall paintings of the villa. In the Second-Style paintings the wavy forms of real alabaster and giallo antico are effectively recreated, but the alabaster is enlivened with some extra, non-natural colors. Panels of a red and green brecciated stone (fig. 18.79) do not appear to represent a particular stone but rather a generic limestone breccia. The Fourth-Style paintings depict much less imitation marble, probably due to the greater use of the real stone. The striking if rather crude zebra-striped painted walls evoke generic gray and white marbles rather than any specific stone. The discussion of the painted lararium leads to a useful survey of lararia with imitation- and real-marble decoration.

In “The fate of the lithic decoration of Villa A,” B. and F. discuss damage to and the eventual removal of the marble decoration. Some 90% of the villa's marble, particularly flat slabs, was removed in antiquity, probably close to the year 79 CE and perhaps following an earthquake later than the one of 62 CE. Salvage work has generally been thought of as a Late Antique phenomenon, but it was routine in Late Republican and Imperial times. In spite of the stripping of pavements and walls, the owners were probably planning the villa's renovation: its sculptures were under repair or in storage, and columns, capitals, and bases were stacked against walls, but why the massive quantity of revetment tiles was removed from the site remains a puzzle.

Finally, B. and F. characterize the three “marble” phases and offer an answer to a question that hovers over the project. Phase 1 (60–50 BCE), with its alabaster thresholds, places Villa A in the company of the elite houses of Rome. Phase 2 (Augustan, early Third-Style) is less remarkable but still impressive as far as the Vesuvius region goes. A large quantity of Luna marble is coupled with attractive black-and-white decorative mosaics. Phase 3 (mid-Julio-Claudian, ca. 45 CE) illustrates the widespread passion for marble. Marble became a key part of the project: the marble colonnade, carved architectural ornament, wall revetment, and vast sectilia pavements are without equal in Campania. Some 35 tons of marble were required. In the variety of its marbles, the house ranks with the richest Vesuvian residences. The project uses the five “Imperial” marbles and is unique in making extensive use of breccia corallina.

Could this be the villa of Poppaea Sabina, wife of Nero? According to B. and F., the marble may supply an answer: the varieties do not fully correspond to an Imperial selection since the villa is low on pavonazzetto and Egyptian stones and strong on the “non-Imperial” breccia corallina. Presumably the empress would have had a more “Imperial” selection.

22. L. Cline, “Catalogue of the pavements”

This chapter contains room-by-room descriptions of the pavements of Villa A. In addition to the black-and-white mosaics and pavements in concrete and marble, it includes the stone inserts and thresholds dealt with by Barker and Fant, and Clarke. C. usually does not attempt to identify the various stones, but she does introduce the term “Apennine slate” (in Room 86) for the material called either ardesia or slate in the previous chapters. In the tradition of a conservator of objects, C. records in meticulous detail the dimensions, condition, repairs, craftsmanship, and functions of the various elements. The ancient restorations are surprising for the way in which they incorporate older units of mosaic and stone. The dimensions of the tesserae seem at times to reflect quality of workmanship, at other times to have a chronological significance. With excellent photographs, the documentation provided is admirable. In her catalog C. frequently identifies a mosaic as belonging to one of four styles, but it is unclear whether she is connecting the mosaic to an architectural phase of the villa that is dated according to its paintings as belonging to one of the four Pompeian styles (as was done by the previous chapters), or if (as seems more likely) she is referring to some independent chronology of black-and-white Roman mosaics. Some clarification here would have been helpful. Nonetheless, the chronological sorting of the mosaic decoration gives point to the descriptions.