Whilst the argument may have some resonance vis-à-vis the widely recognised influence of Greek art on Roman art, it does not necessarily follow that Roman art should be measure solely by Greek standards, a position largely inherited from the proto-art historian Johann Winckelmann.

'Imitation', as opposed to the less pejorative term ‘influence’, is used throughout the book to support its thesis. Terms like influence are avoided because they are synonymous with accepted forms of creative engagement. Property owners and the artists they commissioned are never allowed to achieve that level of engagement. Even if we set aside its pejorative associations, we are still left with a problematical word that has many semantic nuances, especially when applied to the visual arts. Imitate, copy, duplicate, mimic, similitude, verisimilitude, likeness, simulacra, resemble, representation, re-presentation and appropriation are all conceptually-driven ways of making art that involves some form of mimesis or ‘imitation’. Imitation, as Aristotle pointed out over two thousand years ago, is intrinsic to human communication. In the case study ‘imitation’ and ‘original’ are juxtaposed in order to imply a qualitative difference that is invariably pejorative.

This argument does not take into account the fact that Roman wall-painting is considered to be pictorially sophisticated precisely because it synthesised mimesis and allusion in monumental trompe l’oeil creations. This bigger picture, however, no pun intended, is never allowed to interfere with the thesis, because Roman art is consistently classified as ‘imitative’ in the sense of being a copy. The iconology of the ‘original’ is never defined, but we are constantly reminded of its superiority. In this context domestically located wall-painting, or ‘domestic art’ as it is referred to in the book, is seen as providing the ‘fake’ grandeur that transforms the middle-class Pompeian house into a ‘miniature’ copy of something that was once palatial. The reader is left in no doubt that the ‘fake’ was produced for owners that lacked both the funds and education to acquire the real thing. And yet, generally speaking the sensitivity and quality of Pompeian décor suggests that it was not the pursuit of luxury alone, ostentatious or otherwise, that drove the inhabitants to create these highly charged environments. When the post-earthquake houses or villas began to appear the Italo-Roman absorption of Greek culture had been going on for well over two centuries. More significantly, the Campanian region was directly exposed to the effects of Greek culture, via colonisation, several hundreds years prior to that time.

This top down approach to culture in which artefacts are regarded as increasingly inferior as they move further away from an elite ‘original’, typifies a certain socio-historical view of culture. And yet, the material evidence often runs contrary to this view. For example, there are wall-paintings in Pompeii that are the equal if not superior to those found in the house purported to have belonged to Augusts and Livia, situated on the Palatine Hill in Rome (figs.1&2). But how is this possible, how can a house in a provincial city have wall-paintings that are equal to those belonging to one of the most elite and powerful Romans? The answer is in one sense very simple – artists make art, not the so-called elite. It is not always the case that the best artists always gravitate to the metropolis.