What is a museum? If you ask anyone, the answer might be very simple: it’s a place where you go to admire art and learn about history. But more often than not, we overlook the importance of the museum as a part of history itself. How many of us have actually tried to learn about what happens to such a place, bar for when we encounter the slight inconvenience of it being closed and changing our plans?
Whilst exploring the Franciscan Collection, housed in the UCD Special Collections, I stumbled upon a book in Italian. The only writing can be found on the title pages- ‘Raccolta de Monumenti più interessanti del Rl. Museo Borbonico e di varie Collezioni private’ (1825), ‘Raccolta de la più interefsanti Dipinture et de più belli Musaici rinvenuti negli Scavi di Ercolano, di Pompei, et di Stabia che ammiransi nel Museo Reale Borbonico’, and a handwritten table at the very beginning of each of the volumes.
Title page (UCD Special Collections, OFM collection)
Handwritten table in Italian (UCD Special Collections, OFM 0129)
The pictures of the pieces of art intrigued me, and, with the help of an Italian friend of mine, I managed to translate both the title pages and the handwritten tables. I found out the pictures in front of me were of statues, paintings and mosaics located, at that point in history, in the Royal Bourbonic Museum of Naples. As any researcher does, I started asking questions about the book in front of me: what, when, where, and why? And the answers came: this museum existed before Italy as a state was born, and still exists, just under a different name: the National Museum of Archaeology of Naples.
Decorated title page and handwritten notes (UCD Special Collections, OFM collection)
Trying to gather information about this book has turned into a very poetic quest, or at least that is how I perceived it. Naturally, I looked for other historical publications which mentioned the museum, and I discovered the museum’s journal, which contained both pictures and additional descriptions of the art pieces. After I finally put the first pieces together, meaning that I had found a picture in the Journal that looked extremely familiar to the one of the statue which laid before my eyes in the book on my desk, the need to ensure I was correct was set in. Checking the index of an established journal to see if it matches a handwritten one, I discovered that, indeed, it was the same statue, known as Psyche of Capua. Therefore, I was able to track the statue’s history and location through the years.
After the wonderful confirmation that it was the same statue that the journal and the book contained images of, I wondered why there were variations in the pictures themselves. Why was the one I had found in the Special Collections book from only one angle, whilst the one online had two? Was it an artistic choice? Was it because the latter had more funding behind it and therefore could provide more than just a mere drawing? Was it because it was considered of higher value than the rest, given that not all the art pieces in the museum were featured in that issue of the Journal? To try to seek some clarity on the matter, I started looking for other pictures which had the same subject.
Mosaic (from the online journal and from the printed book)
This mosaic was quite tricky to identify in both the book and the journal, due to how intricate its details were. The very small, almost unnoticeable differences posed another challenge: how can one be sure that it is the same mosaic if the leaves of the flowers are slightly different? Due to the repeating patterns and its mention in the indexes, I had the confirmation, but some of the questions were still left unanswered: for instance, the quality of the image seemed to be better now in ‘Raccolta’, and not in the journal. So, then, was this mosaic considered of a lesser importance, yet still relevant enough to be added to the journal? Or was it just that the artist did not recreate it as well as the one from 1825?
The last statue I looked for in the journal was a lot easier to identify, due to its unique look. Again, with a slight variation in angles, these two images were the easiest to connect, which again poses the same questions as before. One can imagine that the artists both really enjoyed this particular piece, as both depictions of it are equally as detailed.
The two ‘Raccolta’’s surely have more images to be compared in order to retrace the journey of the art pieces, yet these are the three that I found at a quick glance. However, I do hope that this ‘hunt’ for these repeating images can continue, as the two volumes contain hundreds of them.
An example of a illustrated sculpture, found both online and in print
The history of the art pieces of the museums, be they mosaics, sculptures or paintings, can be equally as interesting as the history that the exhibitions themselves are trying to present. In this case, the example of Psyche, which has been in the museum in Naples since at least 1825, and is still there today, has stayed in the same place for two full centuries. But what if it had travelled, like many other masterpieces do, and had seen many other locations, peoples and traditions? Next time you visit a museum, especially in another country, do ask yourself if the art you are admiring has travelled more than you. Maybe it has even been to your country!
This guest blog post was written by Miruna ‘Mira’ Surugiu, former UCD Special Collections intern and BA History student.
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That was a fantastic read. Thank you.