The heyday of Roman portrait art was a period undoubtedly enabled by the expression of the various cultures subsumed by the tireless expansion of the Empire. In a plethora of avenues of intellectual thought, as well as in the fine arts, Roman contributions served as extensions and syntheses of the works of the civilizations it absorbed. Indeed, the brilliance of Roman portraiture art remains altogether indebted to the artistic endeavors of cultures conquered as a result of Roman military expansion. Out of the melting pot created by the coalescing of these cultures arose art committed to depicting the multi-dimensional aspects of character and personality.

The Western world was unique at the time. Rome was a power that could not be rivaled by any in the world, a civilization that crushed its adversaries in battle before they had a chance to develop to the level at which they would pose a threat. But, unlike conquerors of the past, they did not suffocate the lifelines of creation within these cultures. Roman policy dictated that its subjugate nations be allowed to continue self-ruling, so long as they paid taxes to Rome and served in the military of the Empire. Rome's defeated adversaries were not often obliterated; but rather, they were able to continue a modified way of life, so long as they were willing to swear allegiance to the Empire. This created a loosely knit community of subjugates that became dependent upon the stability of Rome for their protection. While Rome embraced foreign cultures and sought to export and disseminate their value, it squelched any military development within its conquered peoples. These factors created a hegemonic power, and the co-mingling of prior civilizations became a hotbed for new thought in arts, science, literature, and philosophy. Donald Spanel argues- quite successfully- in his book Through Ancient Eyes: Egyptian Portraiture that "the Western concept of portrait is a work that reveals the inner and outer qualities of a person who cannot be mistaken for anyone else." (3). But, prior to the amalgamation of cultures which occurred under the blanket of Roman rule, the existence of portraiture art in this most archetypal sense has been widely debated. It certainly seems true that, prior to this period, the existence of portraiture served the specific purposes of honoring the most distinguished individuals of a society. The craft, prior to the existence of Hellenistic influence, did not seem to have specific aims unto itself.

Ancient Egyptian art presents what may be considered early forms of portraiture; but it does not seek to cultivate the nectar that would, ultimately, render the process of portraiture a form unto itself. That is, the endeavor to depict individual personalities in art. Spanel, in his musings on Egyptian Portraiture, notes that, "the modern analogue of the ancient Egyptian approach to artistic representation is cubism, in which the visual correspondence of an image to the model is emphatically denied and is replaced by the juxtaposed and manifold facets of the model's reality." Indeed, Egyptian art is most immediately associated with rigid, geometrically composed figures, variations on a type that remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Yet, even in operating under such an unyielding premise for style, Egyptian artists did not entirely neglect their attention from the distinct characteristics of the faces of individual persons.

Art historians, for example, have been able to note likeness' between artistic representations and mummified remains of Egyptian kings. This does not provide, however, a foolproof rationale for the portraits being rendered for the sake of depicting the "inner and outer qualities of a person." Rather, it may simply just reinforce our current knowledge of Egyptian religious practices. Denial of death was a notable feature of Egyptian culture. Egyptians recognized a distinction between the death of a physical body and the death of the human soul. They believed that when the human body died, the soul would remain in this world looking for a substitute residence. Should it be unable to find a likeness of its former self, it would wander confusedly until the end of days. Anxious, unhoused souls did not bode well, so the Egyptians did deviate from general type art to provide representations of individuals. Yet, because these representations were likely produced only to satisfy religious ends, they cannot be said to qualify (as least in a Western sense) as authentic portraits (Hinks, 9-10).

Furthermore, it is apparent that the aims of Egyptian artists lie in other avenues than those that would lead them to depict individual personalities. While facial characteristics do occasionally spring up, the likeness' depicted are form fitted to a sort of mold. They are intended to produce an image that will reflect the model as an adherent to the social, ethical and moral values of their culture. As the Empire commissioned funerary portraits, artisans were most likely not valued for- or expected to- render art that would reflect upon the individual and the true characteristics possessed by him or her. The principle was to make a lasting positive impression of the Empire and, accordingly, its absolute monarchs. A comparison between the mummified remains of Seti I and his depiction on the funerary temple at Abydos will display these points brilliantly.