Status by the sea

Suburban sprawl did not begin in Los Angeles. Showmanship did not originate in Las Vegas. And kitschy decor has been around a lot longer than the tacky McMansions that seem to be popping up on the best lots everywhere.

All three flourished on the Bay of Naples for a couple of centuries before Vesuvius erupted in AD 79, burying Pompeii and ruining the market for beachfront property for miles around.

At the San Diego Museum of Art, an eye-opening exhibition features frescoes excavated from five magnificent summer homes on the Mediterranean coast in the region of Stabiae, where the city of Castellammare di Stabia now stands, less than three miles from Vesuvius. “In Stabiano: Exploring the Ancient Seaside Villas of the Roman Elite” reveals that kitsch has its roots in antiquity, just like the democratic principles on which our nation is based.

That’s not the story the show’s organizers -- the Archaeological Superintendancy of Pompeii and the Restoring Ancient Stabiae Foundation -- set out to tell. But they should. It’s more compelling and accurate than the cliched tale they trot out: of preserving ancient treasures because they are great works of art.

Most of the approximately 70 objects displayed are not great art. But that doesn’t mean they’re not fascinating. Emphasizing kitsch also makes better sense in terms of the project the rare traveling exhibition promotes: the development of the archeological site into an archeological park, with such tourist amenities as cafes, promenades, summer theaters, a spa, a winery, a restaurant and a funicular.

The installation does a fine job of setting the stage for about two dozen frescoes, most of which are fragments. They are accompanied by a gorgeous decorative chalice, a basin-shaped fountain, a statue of a shepherd and a square of marble flooring, as well as by everyday gardening tools, oil-burning lamps, blown-glass bottles, ceramic dishes and bronze pots and pans.

The first gallery concisely sketches the historical and geographic context of the villas with aerial photographs, informative wall labels and a computer-generated video, presented on a large-screen TV. Visitors learn that the most powerful senators and businessmen left Rome each summer for the cool air of the coast. The area around Stabiae was their prime destination because its 150-foot bluffs caught lovely breezes and allowed for breathtaking views that included the dazzling blue bay, the volcano, the Sarno River plane and mountains in the background.

The elite escaped the heat, but they still had work to do. Regularly held elections kept them in touch with voters, who visited them daily in the atriums of their luxurious homes. In the evenings, selected citizens, distinguished visitors and fellow civic leaders were invited back for sumptuous feasts, hot and cold baths, workouts in the gym, musical entertainment, philosophy lectures and strolls in lavish gardens, some of which were built underground, out of the sun. Business and pleasure mixed freely, as did commerce and governance.

The show proper begins in the next gallery, where four fragmented frescoes from the 120,000-square-foot Villa San Marco hang. They present partial views of Hermes, Minerva, a landscape and a planisphere -- an abstract model of the cosmos, with women symbolizing spring and fall circling each other. An elegant marble chalice that once stood poolside stands on a pedestal next to a nearly 2-foot-square section of inlaid marble flooring, which hangs on the wall like an abstract painting.

A great leap of the imagination is required to get from these modest fragments to a complete picture of the villa. It is as if the exhibition presents a series of keyhole glimpses of a distant world of splendor. That’s part of the fun, traveling in your imagination through time and space to a reality beyond belief.

An adjoining gallery displays 11 colorful frescoes from Villa Arianna, the 150,000-square-foot, seven-tiered next-door neighbor to Villa San Marco. Many images only hint at what it must have been like to stand beneath a ceiling where drunken satyrs and fun-loving gods frolicked, or beside walls where mythical figures from Greek tragedies acted out their timeless dramas.

Next come two marble sculptures from the 204,500-square-foot Villa del Pastore, which may have been a health spa, because no residential quarters have been unearthed there.

The largest gallery features 11 unpainted stucco reliefs from Villa Petraro, a more rustic, inland and year-round farm that appears to have been abandoned before its interior decorations were completed. The bodies of its boxers, gods, billy goats and winged creatures are elongated and awkwardly proportioned. Many are stiff, seemingly weightless and depicted with their limbs improbably bent. This emphasizes that they are handcrafted knockoffs of great works from ancient Greece.

Like all of the frescoes in the exhibition, they were meant to be props for highly scripted social dramas that unfolded before them, amid wine, food and music. In this sense, they have as much in common with the ersatz murals painted on the ceilings of Vegas casinos as they do with the Greek originals they mimic.

The highlight is the last gallery, where the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall frescoes from the triclinium (dining room) of Villa Carmiano have been installed. Unlike the other works, which require ample imaginative engagement, this one leaves little to the imagination.

It’s an over-the-top extravaganza. Every square inch of wall space is decked out in a variety of styles that form an elaborate pattern festooned with illusionistic architectural details. Harmony and restraint give way to giddy, everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink indulgence.

Big fields of rich reds, each adorned with a single winged figure, alternate with window-like rectangles depicting scenes from Greek myths, including Dionysus riding a chariot pulled by bulls; Neptune and Amymone astride a galloping horse; and Bacchus and Ceres atop a hippogriff. Images of monumental arches wrap around the room’s corners. And a ochre-tinted section runs around the walls’ lower third, where naturalistic images of flora and fauna alternate with burgundy panels bedecked with stylized renditions of imaginary beasts that seem to be descended from horses and sea serpents.

It’s a wonderfully tacky parade of stories and styles. And it’s the tip of the iceberg. Compared with the magnificent coastal villas, this rustic vineyard was modest, with a floorplan of only 3,600 square feet.

Multiply its dimensions by 50. Add marble floors, exotic gardens, shaded colonnades, splashing fountains, swimming pools, steam rooms, oil-burning chandeliers, libraries, music halls and dining rooms, and you’ll begin to get a picture of a single coastal villa, where no expense was spared and good taste almost always gave way to a type of vulgarity often thought of as American. It’s good to see our roots in antiquity.

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‘In Stabiano’

Exploring the Ancient Seaside Villas of the Roman Elite

Where: San Diego Museum of Art, Balboa Park, 1450 El Prado, San Diego

When: 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Tuesdays through Sundays and until 9 p.m. Thursdays; closed Mondays.

Ends: May 14

Price: $4 to $10

Contact: (619) 232-7931; www.sdmart.org