COVID Galleries: The Loves of Jupiter
In the history of Western painting the depiction of sexuality has been rare, the depiction of the sexual act, almost non-existent.
Its representation existed in other forms such as the I Modi, a Renaissance printed set of pornography. As well as one sketch by Rembrandt. However, not in painting, or for that matter sculpture. As painting was a treasured and expensive medium. To produce a painting was a substantial commitment of energy and cost. In addition it is probably much harder to hide from the censors. In a Guardian article on the 10 best works of erotic art, most are sketches or from the 20th century.
The absence in Western art of what is obviously a core aspect of most human lives probably doesn’t strike us as that odd today because these divisions still exist in reduced form. However the near lack of historic sexual depiction is undoubtably due to the dogmatic and repressive influence of the Church.
For example the Spanish Inquisition discovery of Goya’s La Maja Desnuda, in the collection of Prime Minister Godoy in the early 19th century led to a trial over its ‘moral depravity’. Although the pursuit of these cases was often inconsistent it is worth noting that La Maja is simply a painting of the female nude. Paintings of the male nude and sexual acts simply didn’t exist even though they were common much earlier in Roman Pompeii.
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However, there was a curious kind of loophole to this oppressive censorship that I will explore today. In Greek mythology Jupiter was the king of the gods. He was frequently unfaithful with various people, divine or otherwise, male or female. In these stories Jupiter would often take the form of an animal, as a disguise.
So, there are paintings by many notable artists of Jupiter having sex with women, in the form of an animal, or another entity. Of course visually speaking, they simply depict women having sex with animals or objects. They are strange artefacts of the Church dogma. Conventional sex and sexuality was outlawed from representation, but what is effectively bestiality was not.
There are several probable reasons why this was the case. Greek myth fell outside the religious, and state power, areas of art; these stories called back to a different time, with a different sexual/moral code; and the specific character of the stories, that enabled sexuality to be semi-censored through the substitution of an animal/object.
There is an interesting parallel here, as the animal guises of Jupiter served to hide him from Juno (his wife), they also served to disguise the directness of the sexual acts in paint.
This painting by Correggio depicts Jupiter and Io. The story goes that Io was a mortal woman who had an affair with Jupiter after being kicked out of her house by her father. Jupiter transformed into a raincloud, in order to hide from his wife’s jealous gaze.
Later on, it is Io who is transformed into a cow in order to hide her. Juno asks to have the cow, and as Jupiter doesn’t have an excuse he gives the disguised Io to Juno, who places her under guard. She is guarded by Argus, who is described as having a thousand eyes. Even while he sleeps some eyes stay open.
To keep up the pretence of deception, Jupiter asks Mercury to save Io. Mercury, the god of messengers, is crafty and tricks Argus by playing soothing music to him that causes him to sleep and close each of his thousand eyes. He then kills him and saves Io. Juno then sends a gadfly after Io as punishment, to continually chase her. This presumably is meant to explain why cows are harassed by flies.
Correggio was an Italian Renaissance painter from Parma. Although most of his paintings are of religious subjects, he made a series based on greek mythology. They were ahead of their time in terms of their sensuality, but also their movement, and composition.
Io is posed facing away in a position that resembles that of the Valpinçon Bather. Jupiter’s face appears in the cloud, and one huge arm of dark air wraps around her body. Her head is thrown back, and her fingers and her toes are curled in rapture. The immaterial shadowy form of Jupiter contrasts against the near-glowing white body, and the bright light that illuminates the foreground details.
The lower sections of the painting feature browns and oranges and patches of blue sky appear at the top of the composition. The palate, as well as the realistic figure, and the fine gradations of atmosphere and light resemble the paintings of Leonardo.
Although Leonardo and his contemporary Michelangelo did produce versions of this scene (only extant in copies), we will be looking at this version by Rubens. It depicts Leda (a mortal woman), with Jupiter disguised as a swan. It is the same scene as the one from the start of this essay by Correggio.
There isn’t a particularly elaborate story of the affair of Jupiter and Leda. And besides the different versions are largely incoherent.
However this scene has had a long history, with paintings by Cy Twombly, and Cezanne among others. It has also been made the subject of a poem by Yeats, and is referenced in poetry by Sylvia Plath, and in song by Lou Reed.
It can be seen to be the best example of this bestial love trope. As such it has had a complex history with censorship. The Correggio version was defaced by an owner in a crisis of conscience. The Leonardo and Michelangelo versions are believed to have been destroyed by moralistic owners. In 2012 an art gallery in London was told by police to take down an exhibit of Leda and the Swan as it was ‘violent pornography’.
Rubens lived about a hundred years after Correggio, during the Dutch Golden Age. We can see in his style, a more accentuated version of the already atypical Correggio of Jupiter and Io. There is more drama, more movement, a less constructed composition. Whilst in Correggio there was a feeling of stillness in ecstasy, and a classical idea of beauty; in Rubens we are confronted with a very vivid vision of the sexual act.
Leda is shown slumped onto the ground, only the hint of white cloth remaining on the tree stump. The scenery that was bright and serene in Correggio has become dark. A sunset illuminates the sky red and the unclear area on the top right and the foreground reflect red, but almost seem lit by firelight. The shadows on the body too, are red; these shadows contrast angrily with the blues, yellows and greys which mar the skin. The body itself is lit unnaturally bright from above. We can notice so much more contrast in the body of Rubens, to that of Correggio. In lighting, where Rubens has chosen sharp shadows and highlights, in colours, where different patches seem almost bruised, to the bulbous form that in typical Rubens fashion exhibits folds of fat, and bulges of muscle.
We can see in this simple contrast the core difference between Baroque and Renaissance art. Namely the injection of drama into its every aspect.
This last example is a modern one. Although the intrusive censorship of previous eras has largely disappeared, there is still a separation between pornography and what can be shown in a public gallery setting. This formula of painting, where the sexual partner is substituted is still one of the only ways that copulation is visible in a public space.
The story of Danaë: Her father the king had no male heir and asked an oracle if this would change. The oracle said that he wouldn’t have a son, but that his daughter Danaë would have a son who would kill him. Her father therefore shut her up in a room without windows to prevent her from having a child. However Jupiter desired her and came to her as a rain of golden coins. Their child was the hero Perseus.
This painting, one of many on the subject, is by Gustav Klimt. The moment is one of frank eroticism as Jupiter impregnates Danaë as a shower of gold. It features many of Klimt’s distinctive motifs: the female nude, gold, decorative patterns, abstract space. Many previous paintings of this scene include the setting of the prison, as well as a third character, probably a maid of some kind. However Klimt reduces it all to the female body, that fills up almost the entire picture. The mythological content is also stripped away to leave only the moment of sensual pleasure. Klimt’s depiction of the human body involves a clear delineation of form using line and almost no shadow, a complicated patina of colours to show skin, and distortions of proportion. Here, the thigh is enormous and dominates the composition. The calf, in contrast, is almost half the length.
We can see in the modern era how the representation of sexuality was at least partially freed of the structures that restrained it. In form, in setting, and even in the trappings of story that the painting purported to represent.
