The Incomplete Idiot’s Guide to Misinterpreting Classical Iconography

Within the fine Farnese collection at the National Archaeological Museum of Naples is this statue of Artemis of Ephesus (photo). Unlike most of the pieces in the collection, which are Roman copies of Greek originals, Artemis is a Roman creation and is from the 2nd century AD.

Artemis was one of the most widely venerated deities in ancient Greece; she was the Hellenic goddess of (among other things) forests and hills, fertility and the hunt.   “Luxurious” doesn’t begin to do justice to the work. It is a complex ensemble of Roman iconography and the result of a revitalization of the cult of Artemis promoted by Roman emperors Trajan and Hadrian. Some of the statue is the result of modern restoration (for example, the head, hands and feet, all in bronze, are 19th-century restorations by Giuseppe Valadier [1762-1839], one of the chief exponents of Neoclassicism in Italy. Also, the crown on the head is modern.) The veil that falls down in soft folds at the back appears stiffened to form a disc on which lion and griffon heads appear to float. Around the neck, the goddess wears a pectoral in the shape of a half-moon, enclosed by a garland of helichrysum and a necklace with acorn-like pendants. Within them is a complex scene depicted in relief. Two pairs of winged female figures converge towards the center, bearings palms and crowns, symbols of victory. Interwoven with them are signs of the zodiac, Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer and Leo.

At that point, the fun started. When I first  saw the statue, I said what any normal male my age (or any age) (ANMMAoAA) would say: “Wow. Look at those!” I don’t think I said that out loud. What I recall saying (for the benefit of the unlettered dolts standing near me) was, “Ahem, look at that complex ensemble of Roman iconography, the result of a revitalization of the cult of Artemis promoted by Roman emperors Trajan and Hadrian.” But what I was really thinking was, Wow. Look at those! Then, again, I did what ANMMAoAA would do—I went up and counted them. Twenty-one. Quickly, I saw that this was the eighth number in the standard Fibonacci sequence. I would, myself, solve this or perhaps some similar mathematical puzzler sent to us by ancient Rome, riddle it all through to a grand conclusion and send a friendly but authoritative note to Martin Gardner, the grandest puzzlemeister of all. He would thank me with a kind note, and that would make my day.

My sister, who was visiting the exhibit with me, suggested that I read the explanatory note near the statue again. Impatiently, I did so. Oh. I had read an extra Freudian R into the text; it really said “the goddess of Nature” and “Mother of b-e-a-s-t-s.” It went on to explain that “the bust of the statue is covered with four rows of rounded protuberances, wrongly interpreted as the goddess’ breasts. In fact they represent the scrota of bulls, victims of sacrifice.”

I was crushed. Well, one boob is certain. Me.