The Art of the Catacombs: Hidden Symbols and Meanings
Descend. Further. Deeper. Rome, 20 meters underground. In these dark galleries where the first martyrs rested, Christian iconography was forged that would dominate the West for fifteen centuries.
By Artedusa
••15 min read
The Art of the Catacombs: Hidden Symbols and Meanings
Descend. Further. Deeper. Rome, 20 meters underground. The air is cold, damp, heavy with the scent of ancient stone and silence. You walk along a narrow corridor carved through volcanic tuff. The walls weep. On the ceiling, barely visible in your lamp's trembling light, a fish traced in red ochre. Further on, a shepherd carrying a sheep on his shoulders. Then an anchor. Enigmatic symbols painted nearly two thousand years ago by clandestine artists, in fear and in hope.
The Christian catacombs of Rome are not merely necropolises. They are the first underground chapels of a forbidden religion, the secret museums of a nascent art form, the visual libraries where a symbolic language was invented that would dominate the West for fifteen centuries. Here, in these dark galleries where the first martyrs rested, Christian iconography was forged. The fish becomes a sign of recognition. The Good Shepherd embodies Christ. The anchor symbolizes hope. And in these trembling frescoes, sometimes clumsy, sometimes brilliant, we read the entire history of a community that had to hide its faith to survive.
Underground Rome, inventing a Christian cemetery
Early 2nd century AD. The Christians of Rome find themselves in a delicate situation. Their cult is considered superstitio, dangerous superstition. They cannot cremate their dead according to Roman custom — their theology of bodily resurrection forbids it. Nor can they occupy public space for their burials.
The solution? Dig.
The Romans already knew the use of underground funerary galleries. The Etruscans before them buried their dead in painted hypogea. But Christians systematize the process. They purchase land on Rome's outskirts — the Law of the Twelve Tables prohibited burials within city walls — and excavate tentacular networks of galleries, the cœmeteria, "resting places".
The catacombs of San Callisto, on the Via Appia, extend over 90,000 m². Those of Santa Priscilla, over 13 kilometers of galleries. Those of San Sebastiano, Sant'Agnese, Domitilla. In total, Rome counts more than 60 Christian catacombs, containing approximately 750,000 tombs.
The organization is rational. Stairs descend from the surface. Corridors (ambulacra) intersect at right angles. On the walls, rectangular niches (loculi) stacked on multiple levels. The wealthier have burial chambers (cubicula) carved out, veritable small vaulted rooms. And it's here, in these cubicula, that Christian art is born.
The shadow fresco painters, anonymous artisans of a revolution
Who were these painters? We know no names. No signatures. They were probably ordinary craftsmen, trained in traditional Roman workshops, who applied their usual techniques — fresco, stucco, tempera painting — to a new repertoire.
Their technique is simple. On the tuff, they apply a layer of mortar (arriccio), then a thin layer of plaster (intonaco). While the plaster is still wet, they paint in fresco (a fresco) with mineral pigments diluted in water. Available colors are limited: red and yellow ochre (earth), white (lime), black (charcoal), green (green earth), sometimes blue (rare and expensive, reserved for important scenes).
The style is narrative, simple, functional. No quest for photographic realism. Figures are schematic, proportions approximate, perspectives nonexistent. What matters is the message, not formal beauty. A fish traced in three brush strokes suffices. A face? Two dots for eyes, one line for the mouth.
And yet, certain frescoes achieve heartbreaking grace. In the catacomb of Priscilla, the Virgin and Child (early 3rd century) is considered the earliest representation of Mary. She is seated, the Christ Child on her lap, and beside her stands a prophet (Isaiah?) pointing to a star. The faces are soft, luminous, almost unreal. This is not yet the Byzantine iconography frozen in gold — it's something more human, more fragile.
The Good Shepherd, first image of Christ
Look at this fresco in the catacomb of San Callisto. A beardless young man, dressed in a short tunic, carries a sheep on his shoulders. Around him, other sheep graze peacefully. Stylized trees. A bucolic landscape. This is the Good Shepherd, the most widespread image in catacomb art.
Why this image? Because it's immediately comprehensible, even to a pagan. The shepherd caring for his flock is a universal figure in Antiquity. For a Christian, it evokes Jesus's parable: "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (John 10:11).
But there's more. The iconography of the Good Shepherd is borrowed from Greco-Roman art. The kriophoros (ram-bearer) is a common figure in classical sculpture, notably that of Hermes psychopompos, guide of souls. Christians appropriate this image and convert it. The pagan god becomes Christ. The funerary symbol becomes a promise of resurrection.
This strategy — adopting familiar forms and charging them with new meaning — would be constant in early Christian art. One doesn't create ex nihilo. One diverts, reinterprets, baptizes the ancient heritage.
The fish, coded sign of recognition
On a cubiculum wall, hastily traced: a fish. Simple. Two curves that cross. Why?
The fish (in Greek: ichthys, ΙΧΘΥΣ) is an acronym. The five Greek letters signify: Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter — "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior." It's a code. In a context of persecution (notably under Nero, Domitian, Decius, Diocletian), Christians had to identify co-religionists without betraying themselves. Tracing a fish in the sand meant: "I am one of you".
But the symbol also has theological richness. The fish evokes the fishermen of Galilee whom Jesus calls to become "fishers of men". It evokes the multiplication of loaves and fishes. It evokes baptism (the newly baptized are "little fish" swimming in Christ's living waters, according to Tertullian). And in Antiquity, the fish was a symbol of life and fertility.
In the catacombs, the fish appears everywhere. Sometimes alone. Sometimes accompanied by an anchor (hope) or a trident (Trinity). Sometimes in eucharistic banquet scenes, where the faithful share bread and fish — reference to the Last Supper, but also to the post-resurrection meal on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias (John 21).
The anchor and the dove, symbols of hope
The anchor is omnipresent in catacomb art. Why a maritime object in a funerary context?
Saint Paul, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, writes: "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure" (Hebrews 6:19). The anchor thus becomes a symbol of stability, unshakeable faith, hope in resurrection.
But the anchor also has a secret form. Look at it closely: the crossbar forms a cross. In the early centuries, explicitly representing the cross of torture was dangerous, even shocking. The anchor allowed evoking the cross without showing it.
The dove appears holding an olive branch — reference to Noah and the Flood, symbol of peace and salvation. Sometimes it perches on the edge of a vase (the soul drinking from the divine source). Sometimes it flies toward the light (the soul ascending to heaven). Doves are often represented in pairs, symbolizing spouses reunited in death, or harmony between Old and New Testament.
Jonah and the whale, prefiguration of resurrection
The story of Jonah is told in narrative sequence in several catacombs. Jonah thrown into the sea. Jonah swallowed by the sea monster (often represented as a dragon or fantastic cetacean). Jonah spat onto the shore. Jonah resting under a climbing plant.
Why this insistence on a minor prophet of the Old Testament?
Because Jesus himself made Jonah a prefiguration of his resurrection: "For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth" (Matthew 12:40).
Jonah thus becomes the quintessential Christian symbol of death vanquished. In a funerary context, painting Jonah means affirming: "Death is only a passage. God saves. There is life after".
The representations are often charming in their naiveté. The "sea monster" sometimes resembles an oversized dolphin, sometimes a Chinese dragon, sometimes an indefinable creature. Jonah himself is often nude, in the classic pose of sleeping Endymion — another borrowing from Greco-Roman iconography.
Noah, Moses, Daniel: the Old Testament reread
The catacombs overflow with Old Testament scenes. Not just any: those that prefigure Christian salvation.
Noah in the ark: like Jonah, Noah is saved from the waters. The ark is the figure of the Church, vessel of salvation crossing the flood of sin. The dove with olive branch announces the new covenant.
Moses striking the rock: water gushed in the desert. For Christians, this prefigures baptism and Christ, "spiritual rock" from which living water flows (1 Corinthians 10:4).
Daniel in the lions' den: the prophet, hands raised in prayer (orant position), is miraculously preserved. The lions, mouths open, don't touch him. Image of saving faith, of God protecting his faithful even in death's jaws.
The three Hebrews in the furnace: Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego refuse to worship Nebuchadnezzar's idol. Thrown into the furnace, they emerge unscathed. Perfect scene for persecuted Christians: resist the imperial cult, hold firm, be saved by God.
These narratives aren't chosen for their historical or narrative value. They're chosen because they are typos, "figures" or "types" of salvation in Christ. It's a typological reading of Scripture: the Old Testament announces and prefigures the New.
The celestial banquet, between agape and Eucharist
In several cubicula, we find banquet scenes. Diners reclining on table beds (triclinia), in Roman fashion. Before them, baskets of bread, fish, sometimes cups of wine.
These banquets have dual significance.
First, they evoke the agapes, communal meals that Christians shared in memory of Christ. These meals, mentioned in Acts of the Apostles and Pauline epistles, were both fraternal and liturgical.
Second, and especially, they evoke the celestial banquet, the eschatological feast promised to the elect. "Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!" (Revelation 19:9). The deceased, in their tomb, is not dead: they already participate in the Kingdom's banquet.
Sometimes, we see seven baskets before the diners. Reference to the multiplication of loaves (Mark 8). The number seven symbolizes fullness. The bread, obviously, evokes the Eucharist. The fish, as we've seen, is Christ.
These scenes are comforting. They transform death into feast, the tomb into banquet hall. "Death, where is your victory?" (1 Corinthians 15:55).
Lazarus and resurrection: the visible miracle
In the catacomb of San Callisto, a fresco shows Lazarus emerging from his tomb. He is represented as a wrapped mummy, standing before a small architectural structure (the monumentum). Christ, dressed in a toga, extends a wand toward him (attribute of the miracle-worker in Roman art).
The resurrection of Lazarus (John 11) is one of the most frequent New Testament scenes in the catacombs. Why? Because it's the visible proof of Christ's power over death. "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die" (John 11:25).
Painting Lazarus in a tomb means telling the dead resting around: "You too will come out. Christ will call you by name, as he called Lazarus".
Often, Lazarus is represented in an aediculum, small miniature temple. It's the Roman way of representing a monumental tomb. But for Christians, it's also an image of the body — "temple of the Holy Spirit" — that will be raised on the last day.
The orant: eternal prayer
Everywhere in the catacombs, we see standing figures, arms raised to heaven, palms open. These are the orants (orans, present participle of Latin verb orare, "to pray").
The orant posture — arms in V, palms toward sky — is the traditional prayer position in Antiquity, inherited from Roman religious gesture. But for Christians, it takes on new meaning.
The orant represents the deceased's soul in constant prayer. Even in death, the Christian prays. Intercedes. Waits in hope. Sometimes the orant is named by inscription: "Sabina", "Agapè", "Irène". It's not a generic image, it's the (stylized) portrait of the deceased themselves.
Female orants are particularly numerous. Dressed in long tunics, sometimes adorned with jewelry (necklaces, earrings), they embody piety, purity, hope. Some are crowned, sign of their victory over death (the "crown of glory" promised to martyrs and saints).
The frescoes of Priscilla: art at its summit
The catacomb of Priscilla, on Via Salaria, contains some of the most refined frescoes of early Christian art.
In the Greek Chapel (so named because of Greek inscriptions), we find a eucharistic banquet scene of exceptional quality. Seven diners (the Apostles?) recline. Before them, bread and fish. To the left, a woman (Mary?) extends her hands toward the loaves — gesture of eucharistic offering. The composition is balanced, colors delicate (red, ochre, white), faces individualized.
In another cubiculum, the famous Virgin and Child (circa 230-240). It's revolutionary. Mary isn't a timid young girl: she's a dignified Roman matron, seated on a throne, holding the Child like a queen holding the future king. To her left, the prophet points to the star — the star of Bethlehem, announcing the Messiah. It's already all of Marian theology: Theotokos, Mother of God, Queen of Heaven.
Another treasure: the Jonah cycle, painted on a barrel vault with stunning technical mastery. Scenes flow in fluid movement. The sea monster is almost graceful. Jonah, nude under the climbing plant, has the languid pose of Dionysus. The artist here isn't a simple craftsman — this is a master.
Plant and cosmic symbols
The catacombs aren't exclusively decorated with narrative scenes. Many tombs, especially the most modest, bear simply decorative motifs: vine scrolls, flower garlands, birds pecking grapes, facing peacocks.
These motifs are never purely ornamental. Each element has meaning.
The vine: "I am the vine, you are the branches" (John 15:5). The vine symbolizes Christ, source of life. Grapes evoke eucharistic wine, Christ's blood. Intertwined scrolls represent the Church, mystical body of Christ.
The peacock: in Antiquity, peacock flesh was believed incorruptible. It thus becomes symbol of immortality. Its fan-shaped feathers, with their ocelli (eyes), also evoke divine omniscience or cherubim eyes.
The phoenix: the legendary bird reborn from its ashes is obviously symbol of resurrection. Though rare in catacombs (more common in later paleo-Christian art), it sometimes appears on sarcophagi.
The deer: "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God" (Psalm 42:1). The deer drinking at a spring symbolizes the soul thirsting for God.
Geometric symbols: concealed crosses
Before Constantine and the Edict of Milan (313), the explicit cross is extremely rare in Christian art. Representing Jesus's instrument of torture was shocking, even dangerous.
Christians of the catacombs thus invented encrypted crosses.
The anchor-cross: as we've seen, the anchor's crossbar forms a cross.
The chi-rho (☧): Christ's monogram, formed by superimposing Greek letters Χ (chi) and Ρ (rho), initials of ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ (Christos). The chi-rho appears as early as the 3rd century in catacombs, well before Constantine adopted it as imperial emblem.
The staurogram: ligature of Greek letters Τ (tau) and Ρ (rho), forming a cross. Used in biblical manuscripts to abbreviate stauros (cross).
The trident: three points, one shaft. Cross form, but also symbol of Trinity.
Quadripartite motifs: circles divided in four, St. Andrew's cross (X), checkerboards. The cross is everywhere, in geometric forms that passed unnoticed to the uninitiated.
Inscriptions: epigraphy of hope
Catacomb walls are covered with inscriptions. Engraved in plaster, painted in ochre, traced in charcoal. Latin, Greek, sometimes both mixed.
The simplest give the deceased's name, sometimes age: "Irene, who lived 22 years". "Agapè, very sweet, in peace".
Others are more eloquent:
"In pace" (in peace): most frequent formula. Peace, pax, is the great Christian eschatological good.
"Vivas in Deo" (May you live in God): affirmation of eternal life.
"Refrigeret tibi Deus" (May God refresh you): wish for rest in the beyond, image of paradisiacal garden.
Some inscriptions are heartbreaking:
"Here rests Sabina, taken by the Jews" — testimony of martyrdom.
"Florentius to his sweetest wife. She lived with me 5 years, 10 months, 10 days" — poignant precision of love.
"May he who reads pray for us" — direct appeal to visitor, transformed into intercessor.
Catacomb epigraphy is a voice. The voice of the anonymous, the poor, slaves, women, children who died young. These inscriptions are sometimes clumsy, riddled with grammatical errors (popular Latin differs from classical Latin), but they vibrate with humanity.
The martyrs: venerated tombs, nascent cult
Certain tombs in the catacombs quickly become pilgrimage sites. These are those of martyrs.
Martyrdom — supreme testimony of faith through blood — is at the heart of early centuries' spirituality. "The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians," writes Tertullian.
In the catacombs, martyrs' tombs are identifiable by several signs:
Enlarged loculus: to allow pilgrims' passage.
Inscriptions: "Martyr", "Sanctus", or simply the name (Peter, Paul, Cecilia, Agnes, Sebastian).
Offering tables: small flat surfaces where bread, wine, oil were deposited for funerary meals.
The catacomb of San Sebastiano, on Via Appia, contains the Memoria Apostolorum, place where, according to tradition, Peter and Paul's relics were temporarily preserved. Walls are covered with graffiti: "Paul and Peter, pray for Victor", "Peter and Paul, remember Antonius".
The cult of martyrs is fundamental for understanding catacomb art. These tombs aren't simply burials: they're contact points between heaven and earth, places where the sacred surfaces, where saints' intercession becomes tangible.
Constantine and the emergence of catacombs
In 313, the Edict of Milan proclaimed by Constantine legalizes Christianity. Everything changes.
Christians emerge from clandestinity. Monumental basilicas are built. Christian art becomes official, sumptuous, imperial. The golden mosaics of Ravenna, frescoes of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome mark a total stylistic rupture with catacombs' modesty.
But the catacombs don't disappear. On the contrary, they experience a golden age between the 4th and 5th centuries. Popes invest considerable sums to enlarge galleries, build underground basilicas (basilicae ad corpus, basilicas near martyrs' bodies), embellish venerated tombs.
Pope Damasus I (366-384) is the great architect of this transformation. He has verse inscriptions engraved (martyrs' eulogies) in monumental letters, realizes hydraulic engineering works (drainage, ventilation), creates monumental accesses.
Paradoxically, it's after the end of persecutions that catacombs reach their full artistic glory. Frescoes become more sophisticated, subjects more varied. Explicit christological scenes appear: Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, Christ's miracles, the Passion (though rare).
Oblivion and rediscovery: modern archaeology
In the 6th century, with barbarian invasions and Rome's pillaging, catacombs become dangerous. Martyrs' relics are transferred to churches within city walls. Galleries are abandoned.
They fall into oblivion for a thousand years.
In 1578, workers digging a cellar on Via Salaria accidentally discover an ancient gallery. It's the catacomb of Priscilla. Antonio Bosio (1575-1629), Roman scholar, dedicates his life to methodically exploring the underground network. He's nicknamed the "Christopher Columbus of underground Rome". His work, Roma sotterranea, published posthumously in 1632, maps 30 catacombs.
Scientific archaeology of catacombs truly begins in the 19th century with Giovanni Battista de Rossi (1822-1894), considered the father of Christian archaeology. He excavates San Callisto, establishes chronologies, identifies martyrs, deciphers inscriptions.
Today, exploration continues. New galleries are regularly discovered. Modern technologies (3D laser scan, spectroscopy, carbon-14 dating) allow analyzing pigments, reconstructing erased frescoes, precisely dating strata.
The catacombs are no longer places of romantic mystery (though they retain fascinating aura). They're visual archives, irreplaceable witnesses to Christianity's birth.
Visiting the catacombs today: practical guide
In Rome, six catacombs are open to the public:
Catacombs of San Callisto (Via Appia Antica, 110)
The most famous. Crypt of Popes. Cubicula of Saint Cecilia. Impressive galleries.
Fee: €8. Hours: 9am-12pm / 2pm-5pm (closed Wednesday).
Catacombs of San Sebastiano (Via Appia Antica, 136)
Memoria Apostolorum. Ancient graffiti. Underground basilica.
Fee: €8. Hours: 10am-5pm (closed Sunday).
Catacombs of Priscilla (Via Salaria, 430)
The "Queen of catacombs". Virgin and Child. Greek Chapel. Exceptional frescoes.
Fee: €8. Hours: 9am-12pm / 2pm-5pm (closed Monday).
Catacombs of Domitilla (Via delle Sette Chiese, 282)
The most extensive (17 km). Underground basilica of Saints Nereus and Achilleus. Good Shepherd fresco.
Fee: €8. Hours: 9am-12pm / 2pm-5pm (closed Tuesday).
Catacombs of Sant'Agnese (Via Nomentana, 349)
Under Sant'Agnese fuori le Mura basilica. Tomb of young martyr (13 years old).
Fee: €8. Hours: 9am-12pm / 4pm-6pm (closed Sunday morning and Monday).
Catacombs of San Pancrazio (Via San Pancrazio)
Less touristy. Authentic atmosphere. Labyrinthine galleries.
Fee: €5. Variable hours, reservation recommended.
Practical tips:
Constant temperature: 12-14°C. Bring a sweater even in summer.
Guided tours are mandatory (30-45 min).
Photography prohibited or restricted (flash damages frescoes).
Online reservation recommended, especially high season.
Avoid rainy days (possible infiltrations).
The invisible legacy: how catacombs formatted the West
The catacombs aren't simply a chapter in art history. They're the iconographic matrix of the entire Christian West.
The Good Shepherd of catacombs becomes the Christ Pantocrator of Byzantine mosaics, then the Christ in Majesty of Romanesque tympanums, then the Sacred Heart of modern devotional images.
The fish of catacombs survives in Christian car symbols in the United States.
The anchor of catacombs adorns Protestant gravestones in New England maritime cemeteries.
The dove of catacombs becomes the Holy Spirit of Gothic altarpieces.
Jonah of catacombs inspires Michelangelo, who paints him on the Sistine Chapel vault.
The orant of catacombs becomes the Praying Virgin of Orthodox iconography.
Each symbol, each gesture, each figure invented in these dark galleries by anonymous artists in the 2nd century has crossed twenty centuries and still structures our visual imagination.
That's the miracle of the catacombs. Not just their fragile beauty, their mysterious atmosphere, their archaeological value. It's having created, in fear and faith, a universal language. A language that still speaks.
So, next time you see a fish on a bumper sticker, a lamb in a church, an anchor on a coat of arms, a dove on a peace poster — remember. Remember underground Rome. These damp galleries where trembling hands traced, two thousand years ago, the first signs of an artistic and spiritual revolution that has never ceased.
The Art of the Catacombs: Hidden Symbols and Meanings | Art History
