When I first took Visions of the Future in my hands, I found myself almost overwhelmed by its title. I wondered how future and frontiers could be combined in art historical analysis. Both concepts have attracted considerable attention in scholarship on antiquity, though they have rarely been used in tandem. In his 2019 article ‘Did the Romans Have a Future?’, Brent Shaw outlined the complexity underlying the Roman world’s unique configuration of the future, as manifested in its intellectual and material culture.[1] Combined with the intricacy of issues surrounding frontier regions, a topic significantly expanding beyond the dichotomy of center and periphery in the ancient world, it initially appears doubtful whether an approach combining these two strands of scholarship could yield anything more than speculative conclusions grounded in theory.[2] However, Richard Teverson adeptly dissipates such doubts. His book is thoughtfully conceptualized against the backdrop of recent research and is an innovative contribution to a field where scholars primarily focus on how rulers and subjects anchored themselves in the past within imperial systems.[3]
The discussion is primarily focused on art history and can be distilled into two main themes: the impact of the Roman Empire on its borderlands and visions of the future as a vehicle for representation of local elites. Both themes are intricately interrelated, as the author successfully demonstrates. The book aspires to trace imperial signature and impact in the visions of the future at the frontiers. This pursuit raises questions regarding the hierarchical framework in which imperial and local cultures interact. The central thesis posits that artworks serve as a gateway to understanding the future visions of communities confronting Roman imperialism. Teverson’s perspective possesses a pan-imperial scope, both spatially and temporally, as he discusses local art in the empire’s northern, eastern, and southern regions, situating the early empire within a broader context of Hellenistic and local (art) history. Still, the Battle of Actium is treated as a watershed moment in Mediterranean history that made the Roman allies rethink their stance toward the empire.
Various sorts of artworks, ranging from statues and monuments to inscriptions, along with historiography and coins, are the sources the author uses to analyze the relationship between empire and local future visions. Importantly, though, the author’s approach encompasses indigenous forms of art that developed within the regions, which he examines rather than maintaining a singular focus on imperial art. Teverson’s broad perspective is further underlined by the various topics he selects for his investigation. He addresses peacemaking in the north (Chapter 1) and follows with discussions on succession in Syria, Egypt, Thrace, and Mauretania (Chapter 2), cosmology in Commagene and Nabataea (Chapter 3), concluding with an examination of how memories of the past influenced the way the future was recorded in Herod’s Judea (Chapter 4).
Given the complex theoretical framework of this book, the introduction warrants a more detailed discussion. Here, the author elaborates on his interpretations of frontiers and visions of the future. While the theme of frontiers is only briefly touched upon (pp. 6–9), roughly defined as pre-provincialized allied kingdoms, he makes efforts to thoroughly explain how we can examine visions of the future inherent in artworks. In addressing this issue, Teverson draws inspiration from a wide array of epistemological fields, including postcolonial studies, ancient and modern philosophical works, and research on ancient perceptions and concepts of the future. He discusses all of these fields comprehensively. The most important body of scholarship for him is concerned with assessing the relationship between past and future in terms of cultural memory, as advanced by Koselleck, Assmann, and others. Methodically, he defines materiality, virtuality (in the sense of the power to represent), and agency as three broad modalities in which ancient artists, patrons, and viewers imbue time into artworks and objects.
The initial chapter examines the iconography of the so-called ‘Arch of Cottius’, constructed at Susa in the Alps under Augustus’ reign when the local kingdom was integrated into the imperial apparatus. With peacemaking as the arch’s principal theme in its friezes, Teverson seeks to comprehend an ancient viewer’s perception of peacemaking rituals. In this context, he considers peace treaties to be essential guidelines for the future of the subjects of Rome. They establish principles for maintaining relations with the empire in the future and, in this case, for situating Cottius, his successors, and his people in that future. A pivotal aspect of his argument posits that Roman imperial art created a dilemma for sculptors, as the visual rhetoric of Roman diplomacy afforded no opportunity for the non-Roman party to assert its status as a peer. Consequently, the friezes of the arch represent an intriguing compromise achieved by Cottius within the confines of imperial art, even though it comes at the cost of omitting the local past. The analysis relies on comparisons with indigenous responses to imperial art across various parts of the empire, allowing the reader to gain insights into the worldviews of both the empire and its subjects.
The focus of the argument shifts to the theme of succession within the monarchies of the southern and southeastern Mediterranean in the next chapter. The author posits that children in official representations served as vehicles for allied kingdoms to communicate their visions of the future. The evidence discussed includes statues, reliefs, and coins from Egypt, Mauretania, and Thrace. In Ptolemaic Egypt, on the threshold of becoming a Roman province, Cleopatra utilized Caesarion to signal the continuity of her dynasty and a default vision for the future, even after Actium. Similarities can be found in King Juba II’s representation of his son Ptolemy. Both children symbolized the ties between their local kingdoms and Rome, with their visual representations intentionally crafted to convey the message that the future depended on maintaining favorable relations with the empire. In terms of the hierarchical framework in which these kings created their official representations, Teverson argues that Augustus’ Ara Pacis guided the modes in which children as successors had to be depicted. This chapter would have benefitted from a more thorough discussion of the dissemination of Augustan representation, which predominantly rests on the perspectives of patrons here.
The third chapter examines Nemrut Dağı and the Nabatean sanctuary at Khirbet et-Tannur as case studies to illustrate how regional calendars and parapegmata were developed throughout the empire. Teverson incorporates middle-ground theory into his theoretical framework to analyze how Antiochus I of Commagene and the Nabateans responded to Rome through zodiacs. In the case of Nemrut Dağı, its zodiac is framed as a top-down phenomenon that facilitates statements regarding the ruler’s concern for local life in a manner that aligns with the predictable movements of celestial bodies. For the author, this zodiac expresses the expectations of local people upon Rome’s arrival. Thus, he interprets Nemrut Dağı as Antiochus’ effort to reassure his subjects that the volatile political situation of his realm did not denote fate’s intentions for him and his successors. More specifically, it communicates that the kingdom’s future is inseparable from both his dynasty and the stars, a theme important to Augustus’ representation. In the overall interpretation of Nemrut Dağı, the argument gives too much weight to the zodiac, which is only one aspect of a more complex monument designed to accommodate a diverse audience. To examine the various aspects of Antiochus’ royal persona that the multifaceted monument communicates, the concept of ‘Persianism’ could have provided valuable insights.[4] Regarding the zodiac from the sanctuary at Khirbet et-Tannur, Teverson uses it as a counter-model to the processes visible at Antiochus’ monument. He posits that in this case, alterations were necessary in response to Rome’s arrival, as the sanctuary had initially taken shape under Seleucid rule. The zodiac serves as intermediaries between the old Nabataean and the new Roman calendars, conveying the message that local life would continue within a Roman future.
The next chapter is dedicated to the afterlife of artworks and monuments in Herod’s Judea as a means of exploring the shared visions of the future held by local groups. Teverson adopts the perspective of ancient viewers who witnessed the turbulent events of the Jewish Revolt in the first century CE. He attempts to study their anticipations for the future through their interactions with Graeco-Roman artworks and monuments employed by Herod to showcase his relationship with Rome. In doing so, Teverson takes an intriguing approach, analyzing the discourse surrounding Graeco-Roman art among Jewish rebel factions through the lens of Flavius Josephus’ work. Here, it is argued that the link between Herod’s artworks and Rome casts a long shadow, ultimately contradicting the rebels’ vision of a future outside the empire. Teverson thus views the destruction of art during the revolt as of particular significance to the rebels in expressing their political message. In order to strengthen his argument, he proceeds with comparing the visual messages conveyed by artworks from other allied kingdoms, using Mauretania and Commagene as examples. Throughout this discussion, the author addresses the question of why Roman art was copied, duplicated, preserved, remixed, and cited in allied kingdoms. To this end, he draws on Fergus Millar’s concept of ‘two-level monarchy’, suggesting that local rulers needed to navigate between the expectations of the empire and those of their own communities, resulting in unique manifestations of local rulership.[5] The final example of such a navigation process, according to Teverson, is the Philopappos Tomb in Athens, constructed around 114 to 116 CE. This monument includes references to Hellenistic kings alongside conveying a vision of the future typical for the Augustan period. It signifies a pivotal moment for the new future visions that arose during the era of the adoptive emperors.
The conclusion provides a sophisticated contextualization of the book’s main findings by referencing various examples of modern art that the author considers comparable to reinforce his conclusions. Instead of offering a definitive summary of the investigation’s outcomes, this final section focuses on reflections guided by the question of how it can be a vehicle for visions of the future. It is welcome feature of the book that it includes indices that allow easy navigation through the text.
As a historian, I can say that Visions of the Future is a carefully organized study that examines the influence of the Roman Empire on the worldviews of peoples in allied kingdoms. It must be left to art historians to evaluate the methodologies that the author employed. However, I have not encountered any arguments that seemed speculative. The book’s strengths lie in the novel theoretical framework and persuasive conclusions drawn from a thorough contextualization of various artworks and monuments created along the empire’s frontiers. Teverson structures his complex arguments in a way that is accessible to readers. Visions of the Future is highly recommended for both scholars and students seeking to understand how the Roman Empire impacted the worldviews of societies in its borderlands.
Notes
[1] Brent D. Shaw, ‘Did the Romans Have a Future?’ Journal of Roman Studies 109 (2019): 1–26.
[2] E.g., Robert Rollinger and Julian Degen (eds.), Contextualizing Imperial Borderlands (9th c. BC – 9th c. AD, and Beyond), (Wiesbaden, forthcoming.).
[3] E.g., Kathryn Stevens, ‘Empire begins at home: local elites and imperial ideologies in Hellenistic Greece and Babylonia.’ In Myles Lavan et al. (eds.) Cosmopolitanism and Empire (Oxford, 2016), 65–88; Rolf Strootman, ‘Imperial Leapfrogging: How Empires Anchor Their Rule in the Past.’ In Sebastian Fahner et al. (eds.), Politics of Pasts and Futures in (Post-)Imperial Contexts (Berlin, 2024), 107–135.
[4] Miguel J. Versluys and Rolf Strootman (eds.), Persianism in Antiquity (Oriens et Occidens 25) (Stuttgart, 2017).
[5] Fergus Millar, ‘Emperors, Kings and Subjects: The Politics of Two-Level Monarchy.’ Scripta Classica Israelica 15 (1996): 159–173.