Selecting Greek Myth Across Wall Painting Pottery Coinage and Sculpture Using MANTO
By analyzing 1,416 artifacts across wall paintings, pottery, coinage, and sculpture in the MANTO v.1 database, this study demonstrates how different media selectively reshape Greek myths through distinct visual strategies while cautioning that observed frequencies reflect a complex interplay of ancient choices, survival biases, and modern cataloguing rather than simple popularity.
Original paper licensed under CC BY 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). This is an AI-generated explanation of the paper below. It is not written or endorsed by the authors. For technical accuracy, refer to the original paper. Read full disclaimer
Imagine standing in a room filled with ancient Greek stories. For centuries, scholars have looked at these stories as they appear on different objects: the curved surface of a drinking cup, the flat expanse of a painted wall, the small face of a metal coin, or the solid form of a stone statue. Each object tells a part of the myth, but they do not tell the same story. A hero might be shown fighting a monster on a cup, while on a wall, he might be shown resting, and on a coin, he might be represented only by his club and a lion skin. The question that has long puzzled historians is whether these differences are just random accidents of survival, or if the type of object itself forces the story to change. This field of study, known as iconography, tries to understand how images work, but it has often been stuck looking at one type of object at a time. Researchers have studied pottery separately from coins, and walls separately from statues, making it difficult to see the full picture of how ancient people chose which stories to tell and how they told them.
To solve this, a researcher named Suhu Xu from the Zhenjiang Museum used a new digital tool called MANTO to look at over 1,400 ancient objects all at once. This tool acts like a giant, organized library that connects every figure, place, and action in Greek myths to the physical objects where they appear. Instead of just counting how many times a hero like Heracles appears, the study looked at who was standing next to him, what tools he was holding, and what kind of room or setting the object was meant for. The goal was to see if the material of the object—the clay, the stone, the metal, or the plaster—acted like a filter, selecting certain parts of the myth while leaving others behind. The study did not simply rank the most popular characters; it asked how the story changed depending on whether it was painted on a wall, carved in stone, or stamped on a coin.
The researchers examined 1,416 specific artifacts, breaking them down into four main groups: 605 wall or panel paintings, 331 vessels (mostly cups and bowls), 246 coins, and 234 sculptural objects. They found that while some figures appeared across all four types, the way they were presented was completely different for each. Heracles, the famous strongman, was the only character who showed up frequently in all four categories, but his role shifted dramatically. On the drinking vessels, he was rarely alone. He was usually part of a busy scene, surrounded by helpers like his cousin Iolaos, divine figures like Athena, or enemies like the Nemean Lion. The curved shape of the cup meant that as a person turned it in their hand, the story unfolded in a sequence of actions: a challenge, a struggle, and a victory. The vessel was designed for a party or ritual, where the story was meant to be read in parts, with the viewer constructing the full narrative as they rotated the object.
In contrast, the wall paintings told a very different kind of story. These images, mostly found in the homes of Pompeii and Herculaneum, focused heavily on relationships and emotions. While Heracles was present, he shared the spotlight with figures like Aphrodite, Ariadne, and Narcissus. The stories here were not just about fighting monsters; they were about desire, abandonment, and the complex gaze between characters. A wall painting could show a couple in a moment of tension, or a woman looking at her reflection, inviting the viewer to linger on the emotional weight of the scene. The large, flat surface of the wall allowed for complex groups of people and detailed backgrounds, creating a world where the story was about how characters felt and related to one another, rather than just what they did.
The coins offered the most compressed version of the myths. Because a coin is small, round, and meant to be passed quickly from hand to hand, it could not hold a long, detailed story. Instead, it relied on a few powerful symbols to say everything at once. Heracles on a coin was almost always shown with just two things: a lion skin and a club. These items were enough to identify him instantly without needing a whole scene. Similarly, other myths were reduced to their most essential elements, like a mother and child or a hero and a specific animal. The coin was not trying to tell a full tale; it was trying to establish an identity or a political connection, acting as a tiny, portable badge of a city's history or a ruler's power.
Sculpture, the fourth category, brought the myths into the physical space of the viewer. The study found that statues and reliefs often focused on the body itself and the objects it touched. A statue of Heracles was defined by the heavy weight of the lion skin draped over his shoulders and the club in his hand. The story was told through the texture of the fur, the tension in the muscles, and the way the figure stood in the room. Unlike the wall painting, which suggested a story happening before and after the moment, the sculpture often captured a single, enduring state. It invited the viewer to walk around the object, to feel the presence of the figure in their own space, and to understand the myth through the physical reality of the stone or bronze.
The study also revealed that these differences were not just about what the ancient artists liked, but about how the objects were made and used. The wall paintings were mostly from the Roman Imperial period, specifically from the cities buried by the volcano Vesuvius, which is why they show so many domestic and emotional scenes. The drinking cups were mostly from much earlier times, created in Athens, which explains why they feature so many heroic action scenes. The coins came from a specific region in Thrace, reflecting local political needs rather than a universal Greek style. This means that the "story" of Greek myth was not a single, unchanging book that everyone read the same way. Instead, it was a flexible language that changed depending on whether it was being spoken on a wall, a cup, a coin, or a statue.
One of the most important findings was that the researchers could not simply count the numbers to say which myth was the "most popular." The number of times a figure appeared depended on how many objects survived, where they were found, and how well they were recorded in modern museums. For example, the high number of wall paintings in the study is partly because the volcanic ash preserved them so well, while many coins and statues have been lost or are harder to identify. The study used a method to account for these gaps, showing that while Heracles was a universal favorite, the specific stories told about him were shaped by the medium. The researchers concluded that the material itself participated in writing the myth. The wall selected for emotion and relationships, the cup selected for action and sequence, the coin selected for identity and symbols, and the statue selected for physical presence and weight.
This approach changes how we understand ancient art. It suggests that there was no single "Greek myth" that everyone agreed on. Instead, there were many different versions, each tailored to the object it appeared on. A hero on a coin was a symbol of a city; a hero on a cup was a partner in a ritual; a hero on a wall was a character in a drama; and a hero on a statue was a physical presence in a room. The study shows that the ancient world was not a place where stories were static and unchanging. It was a place where stories were constantly being edited and reshaped to fit the needs of the moment, the material, and the audience. By looking at all these objects together, the study reveals a rich, complex world where the same name could mean very different things depending on where you saw it.
The researchers were careful to note that their findings are based on the objects that have survived and been cataloged so far. They acknowledged that the data is not perfect and that some groups, like coins, have fewer recorded details than others. However, the patterns they found were strong enough to suggest that the medium was a powerful force in shaping the stories. The study did not claim to have solved the mystery of Greek myth, but it provided a new way to look at it. Instead of asking which story was the "real" one, the study asks how the story changed when it moved from a cup to a wall, or from a coin to a statue. The answer is that the story changed in fundamental ways, becoming a different kind of experience for the person looking at it.
In the end, the study offers a clearer view of how ancient people interacted with their myths. They did not just consume stories; they lived with them in different forms. The wall in their home, the cup in their hand, the coin in their pocket, and the statue in their temple all carried different parts of the same mythic world. Each object selected a different piece of the story to tell, and together, they created a polycentric canon—a collection of stories that had no single center, but many different voices. This research helps us see that the ancient world was not a monolith, but a diverse place where stories were constantly adapted to fit the materials and the moments of daily life. The study confirms that to understand Greek myth, we must look at the object itself, because the object is not just a container for the story; it is an active participant in telling it.
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