Berkley Center

As a classics major studying in Rome for the semester, I have focused exclusively on the importance of art and imagery in the ancient world. In a city where you are likely to turn the street corner to discover an ancient temple or column embedded within a church wall, there is certainly no lack of visual imagery to encounter on a daily basis.

Explorations throughout Rome have allowed me to examine how emperors and even ordinary people chose to portray themselves to others. From statues that evoked mythological heroes to coins that called to mind an emperor’s ancestry, imagery in the art and architecture of ancient Rome was meant to express ideas of great sociopolitical importance. Augustus was a master of this practice, as he inundated the city with physical reminders of his power; indeed, this imagery became accepted as a part of the everyday visual language of the ancient Romans.

In the ancient world, the early Christian community also made use of visual imagery. The ancient church faced the challenge of deciding how to graphically portray religious doctrines, biblical stories, and characters from Christian history. Many of the earliest techniques found on sarcophagi and catacomb walls were adapted from pagan art. This was in part due to the Christians’ need for secrecy, as well as their desire to create easily recognizable illustrations of accounts from the biblical texts. Standard images, such as Jesus’ feeding of the multitude and Daniel in the lions’ den, spread rapidly as conventionalized religious iconography began to develop.

The ancient world’s emphasis on political and religious imagery has allowed me to further reflect my own experience with images in daily life. While pictures and symbols abound in every culture, I have tended to notice and analyze such things more frequently in Rome. Certainly, I encounter political and religious images back home in Chicago and in Washington, D.C.; but as a result of my inability to speak Italian fluently, I am more perceptive to nonverbal forms of communication here in Europe. I have realized that visual imagery is usually more universally recognizable than language.

Symbols’ ability to transcend cultural borders has been most apparent for me in the Catholic Church. While every religious group expresses its beliefs in unique ways, the universality of imagery within the Catholic faith makes language barriers far more malleable. At the same time, each individual church has the ability to express its own cultural tendencies: ancient mosaics dominate the apses of churches in Ravenna, frescoes pop up on Roman altarpieces, and whitewashed walls are the standard in the churches of Sicily.

Attending a Mass in a language that I don’t fully understand can be difficult at times, so I have garnered a newfound appreciation for the catholicity of my faith’s imagery. Apart from my personal experience, however, I have also enjoyed witnessing the effects of imagery on other people. In a recent trip to the elaborately decorated Lateran Basilica in Rome, I noticed small groups of people periodically congregating in the corner of the church. As I ventured through the basilica, I eventually came to the same corner and saw that beautiful sunlight was gleaming through a window onto the floor. Amidst the room’s gold and glass, the light created a luminous effect that enthralled the church’s visitors.

Perhaps we humans do the best we can to visually represent the transcendent, but it’s the simple things we can’t control—the light gleaming through a window or the flickering flame of a candle—that continue to amaze us the most. No matter the language or culture, this quiet and unassuming reminder of God’s awe-inspiring presence is perhaps the most unifying and revealing image of all.