Katherine Dennis is the 2026 Andrew Heiskell | Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Rome Prize Fellow in Ancient Studies and an Assistant Professor in the Department of Classical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. Her project Singing Subjection calls for a radical reassessment of Latin pastoral by arguing that Vergil's Eclogues are profoundly shaped by Roman slavery. Bridging Roman social history and Latin literature, her research brings historical and material evidence to bear on literary criticism, illuminating how texts reflect the intersecting power structures of the societies in which they were produced. In addition to her current book project, she co-edited and contributed an article to "The Poetics of Slavery and Vergil's Georgics," a special issue just released from Classical Antiquity, and has two forthcoming articles on discourses of imperialism and dispossession in the Eclogues.
How has your time in Rome shaped or shifted the direction of your project so far?
Being in Rome at the Academy has been extremely generative and transformative. In my current and planned projects, I'm incorporating more visual, material, and epigraphic evidence into my work. Thanks to Giulia, I was able to see an inscription I started working on four years ago for the first time—it's held in a closed civic archaeological collection—and with advice from Darcy Tuttle, I managed to take a high quality scan I can now consult during further research. That visit provided me with an invaluable resource (and a new skill!).
Living in Rome for five months has given me the ability to wander slowly through neighborhoods, archaeological sites, and museums. I've also greatly appreciated the ability to hop on a train for brief research trips to other cities I've never had the chance to visit. At the end of May, for example, I went to Brescia and Cremona to examine evidence for the colonization programs Vergil alludes to in the Eclogues. Because I'm interested in inscriptions by and for marginalized individuals, and art that often serves as secondary decoration, the material isn't always digitized or easily accessible—you never know what you'll find in the corner of a local museum or lapidario, or reused in a later structure.
Finally, my experience has been greatly enhanced by the opportunity to enjoy the Academy's programming (the shoptalks, seminars, lectures, studio visits, and walk & talks), to meet Italian scholars, artists, and everyone else who visits the Academy to work, share meals, and join in conversation.
What part of your daily routine or environment at the Academy has most influenced you and your work?
I've been trying to cultivate a pretty monastic work routine, so I'm spending most of my time in my study, the library, or the cortile. There are so many lovely places to work here, but for someone in my field, the library is incredible. There must be twenty new citations in my manuscript from things I've grabbed while scanning the shelves after pulling a book I'd found in the catalog.
The real gift, though, is having the time and mental space to put into this work, which is ultimately thanks to the staff who feed us, help us navigate our work, and make the Academy run. I can emerge from the depths of philological argument to sit at a table, eat beautiful, nourishing food, and share a conversation with exciting, kind people. I'm so grateful.
Have any encounters—with people, places, new information—opened up new paths in your research or practice in the past months?
So many! I had the pleasure of being in conversation with Paula Gaither and Liz Glynn for our shoptalks in February, and we were able to reunite in May to lead the Trustees on a day trip to Tivoli (with expert planning by Giulia and Tina). Our work has some clear intersections—our projects coalesce around expressions of power in Roman antiquity, broadly speaking—but we approach the topic from different disciplines, in different, but complementary ways. During the visit, we got to think together about the materiality of Tivoli's landscape and the traces that extraction and exploitation leave behind—or don't.
As a scholar of ancient agriculture and the cultural imaginary of rural life, it's been wonderful to see how Italian producers grow and prepare food following the rhythm of the seasons. In April, I collaborated with Sara Levi and the other members of the RSFP team to organize a themed dinner celebrating the Parilia, the ancient Roman festival for sheep and shepherds. The central ritual is the purification of the stables using smoke from burning laurel, olive wood, and bean-stalks.
Driving through Tuscany the week before the dinner, I noticed that the local farmers had just pruned their olive trees ahead of the growing season and were burning the scraps; and in the Academy's garden, the fava bean-stalks had just been spent. It was such a vivid illustration of how the Parilia may have allowed the Romans to mark a mid-spring transition while also recycling plant matter. (I definitely wouldn't've had this realization at home in Wisconsin!) But most importantly: the event was a huge success, due entirely to the community's excitement and willingness to pitch in—and to the RSFP's ability to adapt ancient recipes into a really delicious meal. It makes me excited to consider how I might extend this aspect of my research into new areas, like teaching or other public-facing work.