I thought I was well-prepared for my trip to Ravenna, a city I was looking forward to revisiting after perhaps twenty years. As home to the greatest number of Early Christian mosaics in the world, Ravenna is an art lover’s paradise. A month before my long weekend trip, I began research online, booked my entry times for the monuments that require it and even read a thick, scholarly history book. I prepped my travel companions with stories of emperors and kings with absurd names, of Gothic invasions and Byzantine power. I was one ready art historian with a checklist.
But nothing can truly prepare you for the up-close encounter with mosaics in Ravenna’s UNESCO monuments: their pure decadence, complexity, and minute detail. They force you to sit, neck craned, and marvel at every tessera, to decipher every symbol and luxuriate in the foliage. Perhaps even more than fresco painting, mosaic decoration is immersive and otherworldly.
If you took Western art history in school, the professor will have shown you the mosaics in the church of San Vitale as exemplary of the era and used the architecture of Sant’ Apollinare in Classe to define the Early Christian basilica. Ravenna is literally the textbook for this period. But textbooks don’t answer my most pressing question: how the heck did Ravenna, a sleepy town near the Adriatic coast, end up being so richly decorated? Who paid for this, and why? Whose hands painstakingly attached a gazillion mosaic tesserae to walls, arches and domes? And how did they last so long?
Why Ravenna
If you’re one of those people who frequently “thinks about the Roman Empire,” chances are you are thinking about Rome’s peaceful and prosperous Golden Age (democracy, aqueducts and so on), and not the period after the “crises of the third century”. By then, a series of Emperors had attempted various strategies to hold on to an extensive but no longer unified empire. When Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity and officially recognized the faith with the Edict of Milan in 313, this took place in Milan because it, not Rome, was the seat of the Roman empire. Emperor Theodosius I died in Milan in 395 and he permanently split the empire by passing it to his sons, Honorius and Arcadius, who inherited the Western and Eastern halves; Arcadius would rule from Constantinople.
If your eyes just glazed over with the last paragraph, no worries, it’s new to me too. (I studied the Renaissance and am not afraid to admit how much I do not know about other periods. Everything I know about this I learned from Judith Herrin’s Ravenna book.) But this information is relevant because this is how ten-year-old Emperor Honorius came to rule half of the Roman empire from his court in Milan. He was assisted by his guardian, the general Stilicho, who, after a near-miss invasion by the Visigoths, suggested moving the court somewhere safer. In 402, Ravenna was identified as the new capital of the Western Roman Empire as it was considered virtually impregnable yet conveniently connected to the Eastern Empire due to the Imperial naval port at Classe, with which Ravenna was connected by a series of canals. Currently, the city of Ravenna is 10km inland, but a lot of that land is silty accumulation; in the fifth century, the city was only 1-2 kilometers from the Adriatic and surrounded on all sides by highly effective walls and marshland.
From 402AD, Ravenna would be the capital of the Western Roman Empire, then that of the kingdom of Theoderic the Goth (who very much embraced Roman culture) and finally the centre of Byzantine power in Italy until 751AD. In the capital, each successive ruler would make his or her mark through important building projects. The religious structures are the ones that come down to us today, encrusted as they are in precious mosaics, but the city was also maintained with structural and domestic building campaigns that for the most part are now lost.
Mosaics were the medium of choice in Ravenna from the early 5th century onwards, when rulers and their artists established a new Christian aesthetic and chose to align this with the Byzantine style. Some of the earliest extant mosaic decorations were those commissioned by Empress Galla Placidia, who was regent for her young son from 425 to 437 AD (died 450).
Mosaics as assertion of power and lineage
Early Christian historian Judith Herrin makes a very interesting observation about the famous images of Emperor Justinian and his wife Theodora in the apse mosaics of the Church of San Vitale (547AD). She points out that the presence of secular figures in the holiest space is unusual in this period; that in Constantinople, the Emperor and Empress are celebrated in numerous public works but never inside churches. However, in Ravenna, these mosaics fit into a tradition of asserting one’s power and lineage through mosaics (Herrin, p. 172) – just that previous examples are no longer visible.
I visited the church of San Giovanni Evangelista to see where Empress Galla Placidia had once displayed her whole family lineage on the triumphal arch outside the chancel. Galla Placidia was the younger half-sister of Emperor Honorius. Her grandmother was Empress Justina and her uncle Emperor Valentinian II; the imperial princess was brought up with a knowledge of both the Eastern and Western courts, their traditions and diplomatic methods. Around the age of 18, Galla Placidia was in Rome and was captured by the Gothic army and held hostage for three years; she eventually chose to marry the Gothic King Athaulf, with whom she had a son, though both son and husband soon died. Traded back to Ravenna in 416, her half-brother Emperor Honorius arranged her marriage to his favoured general Constantius, with whom she had a daughter and a son. At Honorius’s death, Placidia ensured that her six-year-old son Valentinian would be recognized as ruler, and she would proceed to rule very effectively on his behalf. But the tenuous position of a female regent required visual reinforcement, such as minting coins in her image and commissioning buildings.
The large and airy church of San Giovanni Evangelista lacks decoration – they were updated in 1568 and then the apse was a victim of Allied bombs. An early drawing tells us that Galla Placidia had written a dedication in capital letters above twelve imperial portraits that represent the dynasties of Valentinian and Constantine in order to back up her own claim to rule. To the right of the entrance, you can find a hand-coloured diagram that shows what this might have looked like.
Emperor Theoderic (often written Theodoric) made sure his presence was known in the mosaic decorations of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, just that they’ve been “erased”. He was probably depicted in the apse wearing imperial purple, of which there is no trace. But in the nave, towards the entrance wall, is a representation of Ravenna and its imperial palace labelled PALATIUM. Once, the Emperor himself and his family and attendants were shown inside this palace. If you look closely at the gold tesserae that fill these spaces, you can see a halo where the material is slightly different… the original figures have been covered up. But there is still another trace of them: look closely at the columns and you’ll see some hands that were not erased. Was it too much work to delete them too, or were they left as a warning?
Emperor Justinian ruled in Constantinople and never set foot in Ravenna. Placed in the apse of San Vitale, however, the mosaic images of the Byzantine ruler and his wife marks a new phase of direct imperial rule of Ravenna on the part of Constantinople. These images are an instruction book in how to be royal – especially that of Theodora with her elaborate headdress and gold-embroidered robe and her fancy attendants. For even her presence required justification: before converting and meeting Justinian, Theodora had been a child prostitute and actress. Justinian’s “man on the ground” was Bishop Maximian, who had his own image inserted into the mosaic next to the ruler over that of his predecessor, Bishop Victor. So, through direct patronage of images or through their revision, Ravenna’s rulers jostled for visibility in the spaces that would best legitimate their role.
Sant’Apollonia old and new
Bishop Maximian, whom we see standing next to Emperor Justinian in the San Vitale mosaic, may have written the Life of saint Apollinaris, who was said to be a contemporary of Saint Peter and the founder and first bishop of Ravenna. Enhancing the importance of this early, local saint through hagiography gives Ravenna further clout. To reinforce the role of Apollinaris, Maximian consecrated the basilica of Sant’Apollonia in Classe (begun by Bishop Ursicinus 533-536 AD on the site of an extant cemetary and consecrated 549 AD).
There is a huge parking lot to accommodate tons of busses, a shady entrance path and an organized ticket area to enter this basilica, but we found ourselves almost alone there on a late spring afternoon. If there are nave decorations, they’re not notable; rather, the lofty church is luminous and, due to the church’s massive size, the apse mosaics seem rather small and far away until you sit on the pews up front to get a closer look.
The image of Apollinaris is front and center in the apse mosaic, hands raised in the gesture of prayer. He stands below a perfect circle containing a bejewelled cross at the center of which we see a tiny head of Jesus. On a blue field of silver and gold stars, we see the Greek letters letters α and ω, a reference to Revelation 1:8: “I am the Alpha and Omega–the beginning and the end.” The hand of God seems to dangle from above amongst stylized clouds that look something like baguettes. We spent ages counting sheep – there are twelve (representative of apostles) to either side of the Saint, and twelve again coming out of city gates in the triumphal arch above the apse, while the three sheep in the upper register seem to gaze at the cross, representing those apostles that witnessed the Transfiguration.
Every surface, border and background is encrusted in decoration: columns on the window jambs, vegetation, shells and floral patterns to create borders, and also significant plants and flowers like date palm trees (symbol of resurrection), daisies and lilies.
You’d think, by its name, that Sant’Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna would be newer than the church dedicated to the same saint located in Classe but in fact, it was commissioned before, but got the name (and rededication) after, Classe. This church, which is also in the basilican form, i.e. a long nave and semi-domed apse, was built for Emperor Theoderic in the first quarter of the sixth century and initially dedicated in 504 to Christ the Redeemer.
It’s a shame that we no longer have the apse mosaics that would have completed the shiny gold effect of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, where the Early Christian mosaics that remain line two storeys of the nave. There are parallel processions of male and female saints, all labelled. The ladies appear to be carbon copies of one another, awkwardly shifting towards the altar; handily they are labelled or else you’d not know who they were.
In the clerestory, there are lifesize figures in niches alternating with windows, while above the windows are tiny narrative panels – an interesting choice, I thought, as they are not particularly legible from a distance. It occurred to me that there is a lot less narrative storytelling in Early Christian mosaics than there is in Early Modern frescoes and I wonder why. Was there less need to teach the stories? More focus on people? Limitations of medium? Or connections to Byzantine tradition?
Until now I’ve avoided the complicated discourse about the distinction between “Arian” and “Orthodox” (Christian) faith, but now we have to deal with it. The Ostrogothic King Theoderic was of the Arian faith, which was not recognized by the Western Catholic Church. Numerous councils were held over the centuries to debate the main difference between the two faiths, which came down to the “nature” of Jesus. Arianism, which was repeatedly declared heretical, believes that as the son of God, Jesus cannot be “of the same substance” as God, hence not equal in divinity, while Catholics (who at this time were called Orthodox, not to be confused with Eastern Orthodox practise today) maintain that Jesus is fully God, fully human, and the second person of the Trinity.
Despite attempts to ban Arianism, the Roman Empire needed Gothic strength and accepted the Arian ruler; Theoderic wisely promoted religious tolerance and co-existence (including Judaism). So when he builds a church, he inserts some Arian figures or symbols, which would later be destroyed or “edited”. Justinian pointedly has this church reconsecrated in 561AD to Saint Martin of Tours, a saint who actively campaigned against the heretical sect. Saint Martin becomes the leader of the male procession of saints in the nave, replacing the previous image of Emperor Theoderic here. It was only in 856 AD, with the transfer of relics of Saint Apollinaris from Classe to Ravenna, that the church gained is new name and the confusing Nuovo epithet.
Mosaics for rebirth and death
Many of the buildings in Ravenna give the impression of being somewhat squat, as if the columns are not the right height or people were really short 1500 years ago. The reason is that Ravenna is slowly sinking, just like Venice. Built on marshy land reclaimed by the Etruscans and then the Romans, there’s a layer of water underneath just about everything here. In the church of San Francesco, you can peek into the watery crypt paved in marble mosaics and home to goldfish. The floor of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo is a new one because they raised it already centuries ago; they supported the arches temporarily in order to cut the columns and reattach their bases! In San Giovanni Evangelista you can peer down a hole they left to show you the water underneath. Only San Vitale remains at its original ground level (in fact you descend a ramp to enter) and it’s kept dry through an elaborate system of pumps. Ravennati architects have gotten used to finding solutions to keep the walls and floors of homes and churches dry, though the city, and especially its surrounding plains, is always at high risk of flooding.
In Ravenna’s smaller monuments, the short walls create a sense of intimacy and an opportunity to see mosaics up close. This is the case with the famous starry-skied Mausoleum of Galla Placidia and the Neonian Baptistery – one building designed for death and another for rebirth.
Empress Galla Placidia died in Rome in 450 AD and was not buried in the beautiful mausoleum that bears her name. She had it constructed during her lifetime, however, attached to the cross-shaped Church of the Holy Cross from which it is now separated by a cobblestone road. The intimate chapel’s starry blue sky, garlands and animals must have reflected the Empress’s personal, maybe feminine style. I think its fame today is due to its naturalistic and decorative mosaics that makes it more accessible to us than the more overtly religious mosaics found elsewhere. A ninth-century source describes Galla Placidia praying here in tears through the night, illuminated only by candles. If you can wish away the groups of tourists for a moment, you can imagine the intensely immersive experience of meditating in this space, candlelight glinting off mosaic tesserae, projecting yourself into another world.
Another “immersive” experience available to Christians in Ravenna would have been the baptism ritual, which was done in adulthood and involved full immersion into water, not just a sprinkle on baby’s head like today. The octagonal Neonian baptistery is an absolute gem that comes down to us with a complete decorative cycle, not just of mosaics but also stucco and polychrome marble. The Orthodox Christian baptistery was constructed under Bishop Ursus when Ravenna became capital and decorated by Bishop Neon (450 – 475 AD), for whom it is named. Imagine what it must have been like to come here for baptism. You’d disrobe, perhaps amongst chants or readings, and ascend steps to access the octagonal tub in the center. You’d be welcomed by the priest as Jesus was by Saint John the Baptist, and the parallel is created with the image in the dome above you. Gazing up, with all the apostles as your witnesses, you would see a series of empty thrones in paradisiacal settings, waiting to welcome you in your new, pure, Christian form.
Unlike the permanent night of Galla Placidia’s mausoleum, Neon’s baptistery is full of light. Both are small spaces and symbolic shapes and both explore the immersive power of mosaics to their fullest effects.
Making mosaics
More than any medium, I always find mosaic to be somewhat miraculous: I stare at its little tiny pieces and think “how the heck did they do that?”. In Ravenna, we don’t know who drew the cartoons nor who physically laid any of these trillions of tesserae because there are no remaining documents of commissions or payments (documentation from this period is very spotty indeed). But while we don’t know the who, we do know how mosaic is made. The technique is still very present in the city – in street signs, private doorways, and even in commissioned decoration for a local kebab joint. And there are a series of mosaic artists who open their doors for workshops!
The opportunity to make my own mosaic under the guidance of artist Barbara Liverani was an absolute highlight of my stay in Ravenna and an experience I recommend you make time for. The official tourism board of Ravenna organises Saturday afternoon laboratories at a very reasonable price – see the “My Mosaic” workshop. Barbara produces articles for the home, like picture frames (a popular gift amongst locals for special occasions), but is specialized in micro-mosaic jewellery. She was kind enough to accommodate my special request outside of her usual repertoire, that of making a house number. I opted to collaborate on it with my husband Tommaso. This is an activity that could be used in team-building and would either make or break a marriage. Luckily, we are really good at working together – even Barbara was impressed. She and her brilliant assistant Yu Yu guided us in the creation of a number I now look at every day, making for the best souvenir I could ever wish for. As it took the two of us more than three hours to make a small rectangle, we certainly got a taste for the work that goes in to making art in this technique.
Visitor information
My experience in Ravenna was supported by Ravenna Incoming, the consortium that runs the city’s well-organised visitor center where you can stop for maps and advice. I suggest you make your plans by reading up on the official website https://www.visitravenna.it/en. Visit Ravenna also offers numerous thematic tours and experiences.
There is a combined ticket to visit the five UNESCO monuments in the city of Ravenna for just €10,50 – this includes San Vitale, Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Neonian Bapstistery and the Museo Arcivescovile (recommended as it contains the St. Andrew Chapel, the Ivory Throne, and also a really interesting collection). For the two smaller monuments (bapsitery and mausoleum), advance reservation is required on the official website of the diocese. Entry times can also be booked at the ticket offices in person, and generally are pretty flexible for solo / family travellers (entry times are more essential for groups).
Where to stay: Ravenna does not have any large or fancy hotels. Rather, bed and breakfasts make for a nice opportunity to have direct contact with a local – we stayed at “Dieci Vasi”, one of two modern B&Bs run by Francesco, a proud local whose sister is an architect. Many of the places to stay in Ravenna have just a few rooms and most don’t have direct online booking except through platforms like booking.com; I looked there first, then contacted a few places directly by phone or email.
