A little background: the villa was built in the early 4th century, and, given its size and the functions of various rooms (for example, the grand entrances and even grander reception hall) in the complex, it's speculated that the place belonged to a senator or perhaps even to a member of the imperial family. UNESCO calls the place a "supreme example of a Roman luxury villa," and who am I to argue with that?
And now, brace yourselves for enough photos of mosaics to warrant their own post. You've been warned. (And no one's feelings will be hurt if you skip this one. I get it.)
The drive inland was gorgeous, full of green farmland and rolling hills, and those red-and-yellow bits are fields full of flowers. There were flowers everywhere, people, and it wasn't even high wildflower season yet.
The most spectacular were the red, red poppies, which grew along the road in a lot of places. (Ugh, how I love these.)
But anyway! Arriving at the villa, the exterior's nothing exciting, but on the other hand, it's impressive how many actual exterior walls still exist.
Please excuse this horrible photo of the map of the place; it was behind glass, and very bright outside. However. It's a good way to see how extensive the villa is, and how it's built along three axes. (Map in English and a good historical timeline here.)
The first major mosaics we passed were those in the biapsidal hall in the bath complex; unfortunately, this was the only angle from which they could be viewed, but their size was impressive nonetheless.
There were mosaics to either side of the near end, too, which I couldn't fit into the long shot above.
Next we passed the outermost latrine, with animal mosaic floor. (Those crazy kids even mosaic-ed their toilet rooms.)
We then passed through this vestibule into the massive, open-to-the-sky peristyle courtyard (in the background here), which is sorta the sun in this villa's solar system, and of which, unfortunately, I did not get a good shot, as I was too busy looking down...
...at this. All four porticoed sides of the courtyard's 30- by 40-meter floor are covered in this animal design. Utterly jaw-dropping.
Of course, with that many mosaic animal faces (which, let's face it [pun intended, ha, ha!], tend to be rather cartoony in general, given the constraints of the medium) in one's floor, it's highly likely that some will be better-executed than others. For example, this bear looks all right-ish.
I was a fan of this rather knowing-looking horse, too...
...but this goat falls firmly into the "Faces are hard!" category. Hee. (Well hello, toothy.)
Ahem. Returning to the serious mosaics at hand, here's the floor of one of the private rooms north of the courtyard, which were generally used for dining and guest rooms. (The faces represent the four seasons, and the birds and fish imply prosperity.)
Um, whoever did the fish in here probably should have been consulted on that goat...
Another of the private rooms north of the courtyard, with the theme of cherubs fishin', which is echoed in the murals on the wall. (Those, I was not expecting; everyone says, "Oh, the mosaics!" but no one mentions the surviving wall murals, whose continued existence is amazing.).
Holy wow, the "ambulatory of the great hunt," which isn't the kind of hunt you're thinking. It's 60 meters of numerous depictions of people capturing and transporting wild animals to be used in the circuses in Rome.*
E.g., these here ostriches.
And this rhino.
Um, I don't think that heffalump is going to fit on your ship, but I applaud your confidence.
This ship, maybe, but that's still pushing it. (So extraordinary.)
Oooooh, this I loved. Along one side of the peristyle courtyard is this little snippet of not-animals, which contains the name "Bonifatius," assumed to be the pseudonym of a gladiator, and the Roman numerals assumed to refer to chariot races he'd won. (That's pretty much the manliest man of all time.)
Probably the most famous mosaic in the villa is the "bikini girls" who decorate the floor of one of the reception-prep rooms connected to the "master's south apartment."
Actually, they're athletes and winners of athletic competitions, clothed in what they'd wear during said competitions, and carrying whatever they'd need for their respective sports. (But also, there's a wee bit in the corner cut away so you can see the remarkable geometric pattern over which the bikini mosaic was laid. And also, more murals.)
Back out in the ambulatory of the great hunt, a depiction of a man whose guards, dress, staff, and visage have led some scholars to believe is the villa's master. (Wouldn't that be fantastic!)
In the rooms to the east of the courtyard, a mosaic featuring children chariot-racing with birds, in mimicry of adults' races.
I think this was maybe my favorite room; I could imagine this little semi-circular atrium being the loveliest place in the villa-in-its-prime, with that little fountain and the columns and light from overhead. (And more fishin' cherubs on the floor.)
A mostly-full shot of the great hunt, which continues all the way to that doorway on the far end. This mosaic is ridiculously long.
I loved this bedroom, too! These mosaics of children chasing after barnyard animals (and a couple getting bitten/pushed over by their quarries, hah!) were so vivid.
As were the few remnants of wall murals. One can only imagine how elaborate and colorful this place must have been in its heyday. (Ok, probably too colorful for our modern sensibilities, but still. Amazing.)
And! In the nearby (and quite striking) Hall of Arion, which served as a living room, and is positively covered in sea-deities and -creatures...
...I found another mer-panther! Oh yes I did. (How are these things suddenly so ubiquitous?? I went my whole life without knowing of the existence of mer-panthers in Roman art, and now they're everywhere. Love it.)
All of these little rooms with alcoves (in the private sector of the villa, used only for family) were just so lush and so lovely. Here, an apsidal room in the master's north apartment. (Jeez, how many apartments does one dude need?) I love the fruit patterns here.
Another alcove off of a room in the north apartment. Look at those walls.
In the antechamber of the north apartment, the only mosaic with a predominantly dark background: this scene from the story of Ulysses, in the cyclops Polyphemus' cave. (Two things: one, why yes, those are lambs' entrails draped over the cyclops' knee; and two, no, I have no idea what those stupid little white boxes on the floor are, but I hate them and would you please clean them up or move them to the side or whatever because they're ruining everyone's photos. Thank you.)
I feel like this weird little shot is a great representation of how overwhelming this place was for me: no matter which direction you turned, there were mosaics, mosaics, mosaics everywhere.
The final room that one visits on one's tour of the villa is the basilica, both the physical positioning of which and the official status of which were the highest in the villa. This vast space served as the master's audience hall and was where he received official and important guests. (I apologize, but this was the only angle from which one could attempt to capture the size of this space.) Supposedly, there would have been a throne in the apse at that far end, and it is thought that a monumental statue of Hercules, the head of which was found during excavations here, once stood in that niche.
Surprisingly, no mosaics here, but that floor was covered in different patterns made from various types of marble from all over the Mediterranean.
And with that, we concluded our tour of the fantastic Villa Romana del Casale, which was 100% worth the two-hour detour inland.
Next stop: Modica, a UNESCO-listed baroque town to the south. (Yes, please.)
*It just occurred to me that there are literally lions, tigers, and bears in these mosaics. BAH, HA, HA.
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