Well, here we are on the brink of a nice, sunny bank holiday weekend
and so to get us off to a jolly fine start, I thought it might be splendid to
have some rampant nudity…
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| Love's First Lesson Solomon J Solomon |
Steady now, there is going to be a lot of that sort of thing in this
post. Today I’m going to talk to you about Venus, Goddess of Love
and All The Good Stuff. She crops up quite a bit in art over the ages and the
Victorians weren’t immune to her nudey charms. Well, take this
well-known image, for example…
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That’s Venus Verticordia (1865) by Dante Gabriel
Rossetti, his only nude in oil and a gorgeous representation of the goddess as
the turner of men’s hearts (‘verticordia’). She is the very
embodiment of beauty and female persuasiveness, holding her apple and flashing
a bit of nipple (which in the real world doesn’t get you as far as you’d
think. Apparently.) Rossetti also seems to say that the
attributes of this goddess are very transient, the gorgeous blooms going to
seed before our eyes and the butterflies epitomising the brevity of all life.
Possibly she is so wonderful because she represents something so brief yet so
utterly glorious – lust, youth, beauty – all gone before we notice. Well,
that’s depressing, let’s see some more boobs to cheer ourselves up…
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| A Venus Albert Moore |
This is one of my favourite Venuses as it is basically Action Man from
the nipples down. I’m sure I read a story that Mrs Moore didn’t want
her husband looking at lovely ladies bits all day and so made him paint this
from a chap. That is hilarious because surely at some point Moore
would have questioned whether women had a six-pack or not. All in
all, she does look like ‘Goddess of Love’ might be her wrestling name…
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| The Birth of Venus (1923) Charles Shannon |
According to mythology, Venus was born from sea-foam. Coming
from the water, she is seen as the balancing and tempering counterpart of Mars,
a very manly God, seen elementally as ‘fire’. When showing her
in art, her birth and the associated sea-side jollity were understandable a
popular choice. Shannon’s late piece, resplendent with deep water-tones and the
glowing shell-pink torso, is a wonderful example. Best known is
probably this Rococo-esque pastel explosion…
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| The Birth of Venus (1863) Alexandre Cabanel |
Lawks! And similarly, this one…
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| The Birth of Venus (1879) William Bouguereau |
Both pictures share an atmosphere of light, summery breezes and splashy
cherubs. Rather more people turned up to Bouguereau’s birth (dress
optional, obviously) and he imagines her riding the giant clam shell,
reminiscent of Botticelli’s vision.
Dear Lord, there is this one too…
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| The Birth of Venus (1933) George Spencer Watson |
A bit out of our time-line, Watson was a very nice Victorian
painter who obviously went a bit odd in his later years. He died the
year after this was completed. Presumably this killed him.
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| Venus Born of Seafoam (1887) William Stott |
Far more delicate is Stott’s fae lassy, toddling out of the sea with
her hair swirling. Looking remarkably like the Little Mermaid taking
her first steps on dry land, it’s hard to reconcile this little sea-imp with
the goddess of love, lust and fertility. She is very beautiful
however, as is her reflection in the glassy wet sand and I love the dappled
foam of the breaking waves behind her.
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| The Bath of Venus (1895) William Blake Richmond |
The study of antiquity and the availability of images from previous
centuries informed the pictures in the nineteenth century in some very obvious
ways. Looking at Richmond’s goddess, you are immediately reminded of
not only Botticelli, but also statues such as Venus di Milo. The
arms-up-knee-dip pose is a common one for Venus, elongating her body, raising
everything perkily upwards, framing the face and freeing the hair. It’s
about display, of inspiring desire in the viewer. When you look at a picture of
Venus you are meant to feel what the goddess symbolises.
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| Laus Veneris Edward Burne Jones |
In the legend of Tannhäuser, the eponymous knight discovers the
underground home of Venus (the Venusberg). In the poem ‘Laus
Veneris’ (‘In praise of Venus’) Algernon Swinburne told the story of
Tannhäuser, and Edward Burne-Jones painting owes a great deal to the
description in Swindburne’s work, which equally were inspired by Burne-Jones'
watercolour of the same subject. Burne-Jones shows a sad, loney Venus, awaiting
someone to love her (for what is the goddess of love without someone to love
her?), while the knights outside pause at the sound of the beautiful music
played by Venus’ companions.
Popularised by Wagner's opera in 1845, Tannhäuser was a knight who
spent a year worshiping Venus. Looking at Collier’s picture, it is quite
obvious why our errant knight took a nice long time to worship the gorgeous goddess
and when, after trying to repent for his saucy wanderings, ended up going back
to the Venusberg and was never seen again. I mean, for goodness sake, would you
leave?
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| Venus and Tannhäuser (1896) Lawrence Koe Looking a bit more repentant in this one... |
Poor Venus wasn’t exactly lucky in love. Often men had to be
borrowed from Roman mythology, so that she wouldn’t get lonely in
pictures. There are images of Venus and Adonis, but I really like
this picture of Venus and her mortal lover Anchises…
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| Venus and Anchises (1889) William Blake Richmond |
According to the myth, Venus pretended to be a princess and seduced the
lucky Anchises for two weeks of sex. No wonder he needs to lean
against a tree. Nine months later she turned up with a baby and told him not to
tell anyone of their epic romp or else he would get blasted by a
thunderbolt. I think I saw something similar on Jeremy Kyle…
Also Venus is seen with Mars, her lover and fellow deity…
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| Mars and Venus (1918) Mabel Layng |
I love this modern allegory, with a First World War soldier beside his
sweetheart. She has her apples around them and he is in his uniform, possibly
on leave. It must have seemed so relevant to wonder at the relationship of
love to war in 1918. Mars sits with his back to the viewer, unreachable and
solid. Venus touches her heart with one hand and leaves the other hand open for
him to take. Maybe Layng was optimistic that Venus’ gentleness would temper her
war-bound lover as he is beginning to turn to her.
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| Venus and Cupid Evelyn de Morgan |
One relationship that is ever-present in imagery of Venus is the one
with her son, Cupid. Cupid is a reflection of his mother, he is the
mischief that desire causes and often Venus is called upon to correct him…
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| Venus Spanking Cupid Hans Zatzka |
Yes, well, moving on. I was thinking more in terms of one of
my favourite non-Victorian works of art…
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| An Allegory of Venus and Cupid (1545) Angelo Bronzino |
I’ve always loved this picture despite the fact that it is really
disturbing, not least because of the bloke screaming in pain on one side and
the little snake/lion girl on the other. Oh and the boob-squeeze
too. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Anyway, often Venus is seen removing or
breaking the arrows of love from the hands of her little boy, implying that he
does not have the maturity to understand the power of his actions. The use of
Cupid in a scene is a way of showing the two sides of love, or how sometimes we
mere mortals do not appreciate the importance of love.
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| The Veiled Venus (1900) Kohne Beveridge and Ella von Wrede |
All in all, the repetition of Venus in art through the ages reveals our
obsession with love in all its many forms. Love can be wild, sudden, physical,
deep and everlasting but it will always be seductive and beautiful. The
Veiled Venus above is a fascinating sculpture – the veil over the
beautiful face is technically clever and very striking, but does emphasis how
much we are not looking at her face, if you excuse the
liberty. Possibly it is a comment on how we mistake lust for love,
how people assume they are in love when they are actually lusting after some
rather striking curves. Still then, however problematic our relationship with
the emotions of love and lust, the truth of Venus is that she can overcome our
destructive nature. Venus is always triumphant in her relationship
with Mars, and we will always side with the goddess who would rather kiss you
than kill you.
Dear Kirsty
ReplyDeleteThank goodness for the bank holiday weekend in which to lie down in a darkened room in order to recover from all the flesh on display! However, it was fascinating to see all the interpretations of the Goddess of Love. The Watson was very odd indeed...yikes! I did enjoy the Action Man connection with the Moore painting.
Have a good bank holiday weekend.
Best wishes
Ellie