[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review]
The limpid title of this elegant publication curated by three female editors —An Athlete that Came from the Sea—seems to suggest a sports or perhaps even a marine content, but it is the subtitle that conveys the intended thrust of its text: an emphatic arguing for the return of a bronze statue to Fano, an Italian city of the Marche region, in whose waters the object was found. The same appeal is expressed by the two (!) Prefaces — by an Italian Minister of Culture, General Director for Archaeology, Fine Arts and Landscape (Luigi La Rocca), and by the President (Giovanni Castellucci) of the foundation, the Pio Sodalizio dei Piceni, that financed the conference whose acts form the body of the volume under review.[1]
This, therefore, is not a conventional book but rather an almost emotional presentation of some current issues in archaeology, centering on an object found at sea approximately 70 years ago. I shall therefore not attempt to write a traditional book review but will try to summarize the basic themes of the publication and to express my own opinion at the end.[2]
The statue in question was caught in August 1964 in the nets of a fishing vessel trawling along the sandy bottom of the Adriatic sea.[3] At first considered just a troublesome obstacle, then believed to be a corpse, finally seen as a bronze object heavily encrusted with marine accretions, the statue was first taken to Fano, then to Gubbio (cf. p. 175), and finally, through all sorts of adventures and transfers (even a “burial” underground to hide it), in 1977 it was bought by the J. Paul Getty Trust and installed in its Museum in Malibu, California. The story is not as linear as it may appear: even the date of discovery and especially the specific original location on the sea bottom are in question. Legends soon accrued around the bronze, especially concerning its now missing eyes and feet, and, primarily, its identification and authorship. The identification, beyond the recognition of its specific message (a victorious athlete pointing to his crown) has included possible (but unlikely) portrayal of Hellenistic monarchs; authorship, on grounds of anatomical proportions, has focussed chiefly on the famous Greek sculptor Lysippos—hence the statue’s dialectal nickname of el Lisipp, which, beyond various other monikers, has prevailed in Italy and, with its affectionate familiarity, appears to imply an intimate acquaintance. This argument, in fact, has been used to support the return of the athlete to Fano (cf. additional comments below). The other common designation—the Getty bronze—is better known in the United States and strongly defended in legal procedures that have involved the statue and the legitimacy of its presence in Malibu. The matter has been and is still being debated in Italian and American courts; a final verdict is pending. Hence the need for a “Tavola Rotonda” in Ferrara where all positions were presented and arguments weighted in a climate of objectivity. The results are… uncertain.[4]
The text is structured in six sections, each containing from two to four essays: “Introduction”, “The Historical Issue: Trade and Display Contexts of Greek Statuary within the Mediterranean Area”, “The Legal Issue: Examination of a Possible Return”, “The Display Issue: Preservation, Valorization of Large-Scale Ancient Bronzes in Italy”, “The Issue of Identity: Archaeology and Community”, “From the Sea to the Museum: Perspectives of Research and Valorization through Context of Origin”. The published essays were chosen because of their specific pertinence to each category and are all by Italian authors (11 women, 4 men) although extensive individual bibliographies include several foreign scholars.[5] Each paper opens with a summary in Italian and its English translation, with the implicit intent of reaching the two nations most directly involved in the future of the bronze; an occasional amount of overlap from section to section is never regrettable since new information is almost always provided.
I particularly want to call attention to two excellent contributions: by Alessio Sassu (no. 04, pp. 41-52) and Alessandra Bravi (no. 05, pp. 53-69). The first reads almost like a manifesto of new positions in the study of ancient sculpture (away from the emphasis on attributions), while the second defends the Romans’ competence on artistic matters and their specific intent —religious, symbolic—in installing foreign (mostly Greek) works within their public and private buildings, thus endowing them with a meaning often different from initial purposes. Properly applied, these two approaches can substantially alter our traditional assessment of ancient art, often based on principles valid only for much later artistic phases, such as the Renaissance or the eighteenth century.
Who should own the Athlete? The issue is of particular relevance to our times, when a groundswell of public opinion is advocating the return of antiquities stolen either during warlike actions or through illicit digging. Particularly significant is the debate over the so-called Elgin marbles, clearly belonging originally to the Athenian Parthenon but (safely) housed and excellently displayed in the British Museum. Although these remain in London, Palermo has recently returned to Athens the Fagan fragment of the Parthenon frieze. A new legal consciousness (and evidence) has also induced the Getty itself and the Metropolitan Museum to relinquish respectively the Morgantina statue and the Euphronios krater, to mention just a few notorious examples. The book here under review (pp. 90-and passim, and esp. n. 20) cites the creation of a “Museo dell’Arte Salvata” within the Thermae of Diocletian, filled (in rotation) with illegally obtained objects rescued periodically through the police activities of the Carabinieri.[6] Yet it also admits (p. 92) that forgeries may be present among the genuine antiquities.
It is inherent in the nature of smuggled finds that their place of origin should be obfuscated or even invented, to forestall possible repatriations. This practice is not only contrary to all archaeological purposes, where context is of the essence in reconstructing the historical “biography” of each find (more on this point below), but it may also be abetted even by well-meaning museum curators anxious to secure significant exhibits for their own displays[7]—and fakes may not always be exposed: note the case of the also notorious Getty Kouros, an Archaic (?) stone sculpture that is today not on general display and is accompanied by an ambiguous label acknowledging its uncertain chronology.[8] The issue of the bronze athlete, in this respect, is quite different.
In keeping with recent tendencies in art-historical studies, the “life” of objects after their creation is almost as important as their period of manufacture since it often involves restorations, changes, additions based on their various locations of display and potential alterations of meaning.[9]
None of this information can be produced for our statue—apparently, even its legal findspot in territorial waters is debatable (cf. p. 80). Since no traces of an ancient wreck were found around it, its ultimate nature (whether commission, war theft, potential ballast, scrap for reuse of bronze) remains uncertain. The loss of the lower extremities prevents us from knowing whether it was ever installed on a base. Its under-life size—rather than simply an indication of young age—makes it possible that it was not an official dedication after a major victory, since winners at important games (Olympic, Panathenaic, even purely provincial and local) were often portrayed as over-lifesized. The only claim for appreciation, therefore, was its “exceptional” quality and thus potential attribution to a famous artist: a masterpiece, the original work of a major sculptor.
To be sure, almost the first suggestion, supported by the Getty Museum, was that the bronze was by Lysippos. This theory is no longer prevalent: not only are we uncertain about the Sikyonian master’s style, but the quality of the piece is not exceptional and some of its renderings are even awkward. Yet it is understandable that its discoverers and its purchasers should initially emphasize this hypothetical authorship to justify the enormous price asked and paid for the figure. Now however it is primarily on grounds of its emotional importance for the place of discovery and its inhabitants that the claim for “repatriation” of the statue continues to be made. The book under review presents a specific case for it.[10]
Not only has the bronze been recently replicated in at least three copies, set up in open display around the city of Fano (cf. the book cover illustration), but its “acknowledged” Greek nature (although not its original installation in Greece—rather than, e.g., in Magna Graecia, Asia Minor, or even elsewhere in Italy or throughout the Roman empire) has been claimed as legitimate grounds for its return… to Italy. This could be seen as part of the “cultural internationalism” in function of which all art works belong to the world— but also, specifically, to Fano, who can claim a Roman phase attested by an Arch of Augustus, the possibility of a basilica planned by Vitruvius (Vitr. V.1.10-14), and, recently, the discovery of a Roman theater in good state of preservation.[11] A novel reason is however introduced: the Fanesi have so enthusiastically embraced the Athlete that its importance has risen to the level of “statua gonfalone” — that is, a “banner work” meant to symbolize the entire citizenry.
This viewpoint is thoroughly explored in a helpful essay that includes a list of qualifications for a work to be considered a civic emblem and then discusses in detail the history of three such objects of different dates: the equestrian Regisole in Pavia, the Madonna Verona in that city, and the Winged Victory of Brescia. This last example is thoroughly treated from the point of view of its findspot, historical vicissitudes and current installation. It is also included in a previous essay (no. 09) specifying the precautions taken to preserve the corruptible bronze in a modern atmosphere and in an area devoted to other pertinent archaeological evidence.[12]
Were the “Lisippo” to be returned to Fano, two major considerations should be applied to its installation: I: the need for specific climate control appropriate to bronzes and especially to those that had spent a long time under sea water. It would require consistent, controlled temperature and humidity, as well as safety from dangerous elements introduced by masses of potential visitors. II: the creation of an appropriate surround, within a “monothematic” museum provided with advanced technological information and totally dedicated to “the many aspects and the innumerable problematics” still connected with the statue and its likely environment within Roman Fano. The more general atmosphere within the city and its architectural remains could include the performance of ancient plays, such as the pantomime, and join the already traditional and famous “Carnevale di Fano”, one of the oldest in Italy, in attracting a number of visitors almost comparable to those known to visit the Malibu villa. Hence the interest by political figures such as the mayor of the city who, in April 2021, wrote to the Italian President of the Council (Mario Draghi) urging to “bring back home” the Athlete.[13]
The emphasis on the glorious (Roman) past of Fano and of the previously listed “statue gonfaloni” has not failed to promote uncomfortable comparisons with Fascist propaganda during the Ethiopian invasion and before World War II (cf. pp. 158-159, 162-63, 166, 190). Yet today’s Italy is not quite the same country. Once noted for its massive emigrations, now, thanks to its position within the Mediterranean, Italy is equally known as a magnet for immigrants—and, to some extent, so is Greece with its Aegean islands. In addition, Italy has recently registered a very limited number of yearly births, so that the population of native Italians may be dramatically limited. An increase of visitors to Fano seems hardly desirable, considering the stress already existent on the traditional tourist centers of the country—a recent trip by one of my sons proved that, at places like Rome, Florence, Pisa, the major attractions are usually inaccessible for hours and hours. Much the same problem exists for the main artistic spots in Greece.
At this point, I feel compelled to express my own opinion. There is no question that I am thoroughly and fiercely committed to protest against spoliation and illicit digging of antiquities. But I am also convinced that artistic patrimony deserves proper treatment wherever it can best receive it—unless its findspot is clear and undisputable, therefore meaningful for full understanding of at least some points in its own history. This is certainly not the case for the Athlete. I also find it incredible that the very brief residence of the bronze in Fano could develop into such attachment by the locals to go beyond the anecdote, the caricature, and perhaps the sense of rivalry generated by delusional attribution to a famous master and competition with a more affluent (foreign) owner. The relatively recent episode of a “work of art” displayed in Philadelphia, PA—albeit not an “antiquity”—may serve to open some eyes on the subject.[14]
The type of museum envisioned as proper environment for the Athlete is not only far into the possibilities for the future;[15] it is also somewhat unlikely, given the general financial conditions of Italy and of Europe as a whole.
In brief, the book under review is instructive and definitely worth reading, but the cause it advocates may be unnecessary and, at present, demands further reflection.
Authors and Titles
Prefazione di Luigi La Rocca
Prefazione di Giovanni Castellucci
I. INTRODUZIONE
Rachele Dubbini: Un Atleta venuto dal Mare. L’opera e la sua provenienza
Mariateresa Curcio: Un atleta d’eccezione. Riflessioni su denominazioni e interpretazioni del cosiddetto Giovane vittorioso nella storia degli studi
Jessica Clementi: Un atleta e il suo contesto. Questioni aperte e nuove prospettive di valorizzazione
Rachele Dubbini, Mariateresa Curcio, Jessica Clementi: Ringraziamenti
II. LA QUESTIONE STORICA: COMMERCIO E CONTESTI ESPOSITIVI DELLA STATUARIA GRECA NEL MEDITERRANEO
Alessio Sassu: Il commercio di statuaria greca a Roma in età tardo-repubblicana. Alcune considerazioni storico-archeologiche
Alessandra Bravi: Gli ornamenti e i contesti. Opere d’arte greca negli spazi romani
III. LA QUESTIONE GIURIDICA: CRITICA DI UN RITORNO POSSIBILE
Silvia Cecchi: L’affaire Lisippo
Serena Epifani: Dal traffico illecito alla restituzione dei beni archeologici. Quale valorizzazione?
IV. LA QUESTIONE ESPOSITIVA: CONSERVAZIONE E VALORIZZAZIONE DEI GRANDI BRONZI ANTICHI IN ITALIA
Monica Galeotti, Anna Patera: La conservazione dei grandi bronzi antichi
Francesca Morandini: Il progetto di valorizzazione della Vittoria Alata di Brescia. Innovazione nella tradizione
V. LA QUESTIONE IDENTITARIA: ARCHEOLOGIA E COMUNITA’
Giuditta Giardini: Il caso studio dell’Atleta Vittorioso di Fano. Tra argomenti di nazionalismo culturale e ‘terza via’
Ludovico Rebaudo: Le statue-gonfalone. Sculture antiche come simboli di identità locale
VI. DAL MARE AL MUSEO: PROSPETTIVE DI RICERCA E VALORIZZAZIONE DAL CONTESTO DI PROVENIENZA
Stefano Finocchi, Stefano Medas: Archeologia subacquea nelle Marche. Ricerche e attività di tutela in mare
Nicoletta Frapiccini: L’Atleta di Fano. Spunti per una musealizzazione
Stefano Marchegiani: Considerazioni in merito al recupero dell’area del teatro romano di Fanum Fortunae
Notes
[1] Although not included in the List of Abbreviations (pp.VII-VIII), each of the essays is accompanied by the same number—DOI 10.48255/9788891320476—followed by 01 to 14 respectively, and a brief mention is made at the beginning of the “Acknowledgments” (pp. 37-38) as to their belonging to the official documents of the Congress held on 4-5 October 2021 by the Università degli Studi in Ferrara. Summaries of all main positions in each essay are given by Jessica Clementi, article 03, pp. 27-34 plus bibliography.
[2] Surprisingly for a Bretschneider book, the text contains several typos, erroneous spacings, misunderstood expressions and other problems, all of them, however, sufficiently minor not to demand listing. Somewhat annoying, nonetheless, is the general Italian practice of adopting the occasional English term but using the singular form of the noun even when the context would require a plural ending.
[3] A general account of underwater finds along the area of the Marche region is provided by S. Finocchi and S. Medas, essay no. 12, pp. 175-188, in which difficulty of recovery is emphasized (p. 178). To their specific bibliography add now E. Mataix Ferrandix, Shipwrecks, Legal landscapes, and Mediterranean paradigms: gone under sea, Leiden, Boston, Brill 2022, Mnemosyne Suppl. 456, reviewed by S. T. Wilker in BMCR 2023.0707.
[4] Parts of the story of the bronze after its recovery are told in several of the essays; the most objective account of the find itself is in the first of them, by R. Dubbini (essay no. 01); its n. 1 (p. 4) includes the report to the Carabinieri by the captain of the fishing vessel that brought up the bronze. G. Giardini, (essay no. 10), on pp. 144-45, recounts some of the “legends” she learned in interviewing citizens of Fano and cites some local newspapers’ comments and even caricatures. For additional versions see also essay no. 11, by L. Rebaudo, pp. 154-55 with extensive n. 5. The various names attributed to the statue through time reveal the position of several scholars and newspapers in evaluating the artistic context of the bronze: see M. Curcio, (essay no. 02 pp. 19-23). Americans may have become familiar with the bronze itself when it was included in a travelling exhibition, Power and Pathos, Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World (Florence, Milan 2015); the catalogue entry, no. 12, by J.M. Daehner, is on pp. 210-211.
[5] Regrettably, no academic titles or other biographical indications are given for each author. Nicoletta Frapiccini, almost en passant, on p. 190 mentions that Silvia Cecchi, responsible for Essay no. 06, is a lawyer, “Sostituto Prosecutore di Pesaro”.
[6] And, I would add, also of the Guardia di Finanza; cf. their periodical, Il Finanziere, that occasionally mentions even the dangers of such recoveries, resulting in the death of some of its men. The objects included in Arte Salvata are kept initially for study purposes but are then returned to their places of origin—when known.
[7] See, e.g., the eloquent book by a former Director of the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, MD: Gary Vikan, Sacred and Stolen. Confessions of a Museum Director (New York Select Books, Inc.) 2016.
[8] On May 26-27, 1992, a Colloquium of international experts was held in Athens, at the Goulandris Museum, sponsored by the Goulandris Fundations and by the J.P. Getty Museum in Malibu. Its purpose, somewhat comparable to that of the “Round Table” held in Ferrara, was to determine the true nature and the eventual disposal of the Getty Kouros. Regrettably, no definite conclusion was reached.
[9] On this approach see, e.g., pp. 18-19, in the essay 02 by M. Curcio, and cf. also S. Cecchi (essay no. 06, esp. p. 74 ) where all the various judiciary attempts to claim possession of the Athlete are included.
[10] I must admit that perhaps some scholars, in good faith, still today attempt specific attributions to masters in order to anchor objects to definite time spans mentioned by ancient authors like Vitruvius, Pliny, or Pausanias. On the other hand, the book under review also suggests that a (perhaps unconscious) hostility toward the financial possibilities of the Getty exacerbates the demands for the return of the bronze: cf., e.g., p. 86 and the entire essay n. 10 by G. Giardini (esp., pp. 134-35).
[11] See the entire essay no. 14, by S. Marchegiani, with significant photographs of architectural evidence.
[12] Essay on “banner monuments”: no. 11, by L. Ronaldi, pp. 153-171, with extensive bibliography; for the list of such attested monuments and requirements needed for inclusion see pp. 156-57. For the Victory of Brescia and its wider archaeological context being recognized by UNESCO cf. also p. 121 within essay no .09 by F. Morandini, on which see further comments below.
[13] This issue is treated in great detail by essay no 13, by N. Frapiccini; see esp. pp. 191-92 for the two essential qualifications for potential installment (in contrast, inevitably, with the much ampler resources available for a Getty Museum display). Note also the need for specific precautions in an area subject to earthquakes. For the comments on the Roman environment and its possible fruition, see Marchegiani (supra, n. 11), esp. p. 202. The mayor’s letter: p. 155 (in essay no.11 by L. Rebaudo).
[14] I hope I am allowed to quote from one of my own publications: Roman Copies of Greek Sculpture: The Problem of the Originals (University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor 1984) 21: “A work by Robert Indiana, the word LOVE in bronze, had been set up on public display not far from the Franklin Institute, although the piece had not been purchased by the city but was simply on loan from the sculptor. Passersby commented on the monument, criticized it, wondered how a word could be a work of art, made fun of the diagonal position of the letter O, and by and large had no idea of the master’s name, despite the fact that dissemination of information today is much faster and wider ranging that in antiquity. After a certain lapse of time, Indiana recalled the loan and the sculpture was removed from the street and sent back to Indianapolis. At that time the people of Philadelphia became suddenly conscious of the masterpiece in their midst—since it was no longer there! Letters to the newspapers emphasized the loss of a monument which symbolized the very name of the city, and such clamor was made that Philadelphia eventually bought the ‘LOVE’ and restored it to public display. Yet not many of those who clamored ever learned the name of the sculptor, nor were the Philadelphians particularly concerned with questions of art theory and aesthetics. The “mob” simply reacted to the loss of something to which they had become accustomed and which they considered their own.”
[15] See the concluding comments by the Minister of Culture, p. X: “Se e come saremo pronti ad accogliere e a valorizzare opportunamente il ‘Giovane vittorioso’ è una storia ancora da scrivere.” As outlined in the cited essays, it is obviously a most expensive proposition for which funds may not be timely available.