From Lysistrata to Cydalise- Beardsley, von Bayros & Traynier

Beardsley, engraving of Lysistrata for Lysistrata

In 1975, the artist, lecturer and art historian Peter Webb wrote about the work of the Austrian illustrator Franz von Bayros, describing his illustrations of erotic literature and his “skilful drawings that reflected fin-de-siecle extravagance and showed a great debt to Aubrey Beardsley. He conjured up a world of guiltless sex, a carefree world of sexual pleasure only occasionally marred by harsher realities.” Von Bayros’ inspiration by Beardsley (as well- to a lesser extent- by Felicien Rops) is clear, but it struck me recently, when working on my study In the Garden of Eros, how their influences might also be traced to Jean Traynier, illustrator of Cydalise by Pierre Louys.

Beardsley, engraving for Lysistrata

Aubrey Beardsley was a self-taught artist who had learned his craft from studying illustrated books and ancient Greek painted vases. He was inspired and encouraged by Edward Burne-Jones, but (as Edward Lucie-Smith wrote in Symbolist Art) the young man emphasised what was perverse in the older painter’s work. Beardsley is known for his sharp penwork, his “linear arabesque,” which he balanced against bold contrasts of black and white. Lucie Smith described how Beardsley was a natural illustrator, able to “think of the design as something written on a surface, whose essential flatness must be preserved in order to balance the type which appear either on the same page or on a facing page.” He was a founder of the Art Nouveau style, hugely influential across Europe, and, through his work, book illustration came to be dominated by the new Symbolist and Art Nouveau ideas: “Partly art and partly craft, illustration rapidly assimilated itself” to the new decorative movement- as we have seen, for example, with Henri Caruchet.

Beardsley is renowned for the highly erotic nature of much of his illustration. His work on Aristophanes’ play Lysistrata (1905) is characterised, in particular, by men caricatured with enormous phalluses and, quite commonly, large, mature women with big bosoms and bottoms. He depicted sexuality and bodily functions with a startling honesty that offended many at the time. Webb was perfectly correct to spot the lineal influence, for the work of von Bayros bears many close parallels with that of Beardsley: not only is his sharp graphic work comparable (both artists depicted fabrics in a masterly fashion), but there are the exaggerated phalli (which may also be found in Rops), the obese and lascivious women, the preternatural and precocious children, and (even) in one plate, from his collection Im Garten der Aphrodite, a scene in which woman ecstatically rubs herself along a taut rope (something which instantly reminded me of the engraving of ‘Two Athenian women in distress’ from Lysistrata reproduced above). Odd forms of excitement like this are typical of the illustrator’s images: compare as well ‘Le Collier‘ (The Necklace) from von Bayros’ portfolio of 16 prints produced under the pseudonym of Chevalier de Bouval in about 1925.

Beardsley, The Climax, 1893

Both Beardsley and von Bayros illustrated Salome and John the Baptist- in the case of Beardsley, for Oscar Wilde’s play Salome (1896). Each artist also detected and portrayed something unwholesomely sexual in the relationship between the princess and the executed prophet- in one plate by von Bayros he showed Salome breast-feeding the severed head of the Baptist, which lies on a plate. Decapitated heads and skulls were, in fact, common in the Austrian’s’ work, another part of the cloying atmosphere of macabre perversity that he constructed.

print by von Bayros

These two earlier artists seem to have provided clear models for Jean Traynier when he came to taking on erotic works such as Louys’ Cydalise in 1949 and a 1957 edition of Point de Lendemain, ou la nuit merveilleuse (No Tomorrow, or the Wonderful Night) by Dominique-Vivant Denon (1747-1825). In the case of the latter, the eighteenth century setting reminds me of many works by von Bayros, such as his 1905 portfolio Fleurettens Purpurschnecke- Erotische Lieder und Gedichte (Fleurette’s Purple Snail- Erotic Songs and Poems from the Eighteenth Century) and John Cleland’s novel, Die Memoiren der Fanny Hill (1906). In part, these images simply mirror the era of the works being illustrated, but their erotic nature (and that of other writers such as Laclos and de Sade) generally imparted an aura of licentiousness to the entire period- so that wigs and beauty spots came to act as visual symbols for a certain liberated sexuality: Beardsley’s plates for The Rape of the Lock, as well as the general mood of his Lysistrata, are cases in point; in addition, see my book, Voyage to the Isle of Venus.

von Bayros, illustration for John Cleland’s Fanny Hill

As for Traynier’s monochrome engravings for Cydalise, two of the plates feature exaggerated, ‘fantasy’ phalli directly comparable to those seen in Lysistrata, and surely inspired by them, possibly by way of either von Bayros or Rops- or just as likely directly. Comparable ‘erotic dream’ images, albeit in very different styles, may be found in the 1932 edition of Pybrac by the Czech surrealist Toyen and in recent work by the British graphic artist Trevor Brown. In addition, the black and white style adopted for both works by Traynier repeats that of von Bayros and Beardsley, suggesting that, for him, it seemed suitable for depicting powerfully erotic scenes. Another small detail which may indicate a derivation from Beardsley’s Lysistrata are the many bows the decorate the hair of Traynier’s female figures- an elaborate and distinctive touch.

The influence of von Bayros might also be traced in similar details. I have discussed previously the pseudonymous erotic illustrator Fameni Leporini. The impact of Claude Bornet’s 1790s illustrations to de Sade seems clear, as both opt for naked bodies stacked up improbably in their renderings of orgies, but the morbid mood of von Bayros may also be detected. Leporini, too, preferred pen and ink for his designs and we may identify in them various traits and details that appear to have been borrowed from the Austrian: the mood of perverse cruelty and of lesbian passion that suffuses a good deal of his work and certain specific scenes which could be derived more directly from examples by von Bayros.

‘In the Garden of Eros’- on book illustration and art in the early 20th century

Paul Albert Laurens, Le Jardin d’amour

In my recent post on the work of painter and illustrator Paul Albert Laurens, I mentioned his painting The Garden of Eros, which is imitative of the eighteenth century galante style of art made popular and fashionable by Watteau, Fragonard, Greuze, Boucher and others.

Having just completed my book on this period, Voyage to the Isle of Venus, and being in the process of completing the editing and expansion of my book on early twentieth century art, I decided to borrow and adapt the title of the painting as the title of the book (which, in any case, features a discussion of the work of Laurens). Now published, In the Garden of Eros is my updated survey of the interactions and interconnections between book illustration and fine art during the first half of the last century. It focusses upon the art of Franz von Bayros, the many illustrators of the numerous editions of works by Pierre Louys and key figures in early twentieth century art, such as the German expressionist group Die Brucke, Paula Modersohn-Becker, Balthus, Egon Schiele, Hans Bellmer, surrealists Dorothea Tanning and Leonor Fini, Marc Gertler and many, many others. In its second part, the text examines the persistent ‘orientalist’ trend in twentieth century painting and literature, identifying how one influenced the other and how many illustrators were also orientalist painters.

The book clearly ties in with my many posts on the illustrated editions of Pierre Louys’ novels and poetry collections; in a very real sense, this blog provides the illustrations to the text of the new book. In addition it is complemented by my numerous essays about the writing of Louys that may be found on my Academia page. See, as well, my Louys bibliography and my books page for additional information.

Three ‘new’ books just published

I have for some months been working on revising several books on art and literary history that I wrote over the last few years. My ongoing researches especially into the work of Pierre Louys and the illustrators of his prose and poetry, has produced considerable new material that I wished to add to the existing titles. I have now republished three of these books, with new titles, and they are available as paperbacks and Kindle e-books through Amazon.

The titles are A Voyage to the Isle of Venus- Greuze, de Sade & Libertinism in Enlightenment Art, which is a study of eighteenth century art and sculpture in the context of some of the novels, poetry and memoirs of the period- a subject touched on in a number of my posts here; Eat Me: When Alice Grew Up: Or, How the Modern World Consumed Wonderland & Its Creator which is a study of how Lewis Carroll/ Charles Dodgson, and his greatest creation, Alice, have been reinterpreted and re-used over the last century; and, ‘Cherry Ripe’- Decadence, Classicism and Fantasy in Late Victorian Art, an examination of various issues in Victorian painting in Britain and Europe. This last book deals with many of the artists I have discussed over the last few years, such as Alma Tadema and William Stephen Coleman. Further details of the titles are available on my books page.

Enlightment Aphrodite- Greuze, Boucher & Venus

Watteau, Embarkation from Cythera

During the eighteenth century, a particular style of French painting emerged from the Rococo which is called fete or peinture galante. The name indicates its subject matter: it’s all about attractive women and love. It’s generally felt that the first picture of this new genre was painted by Jean-Antoine Watteau in 1717. The Voyage to Cythera (or Pilgrimage or Embarkation) should more properly be called the ‘Departure from Cythera’ as it shows a group of lovers in the process of returning to their ship after a visit to the famed shrine of Venus on that island.

Greuze, A Votive offering to Cupid, 1767

Four artists are especially associated with this genre of painting. Jean-Baptiste Greuze has an instantly recognisable style that the Votive Offering to Cupid incorporates fully. The young girl making her supplications to Cupid has accidentally bared one of her breasts; this is a feature that recurs numerous times in his other paintings. Greuze’s Venus and Cupid, shown beneath, is in comparison undistinguished, but it depicts the goddess dispatching her son to shoot one of his arrows- perhaps in answer to the young girl’s prayers..

Greuze, Venus & Cupid

The second major figure to discuss is Francois Boucher (1703-1770), who was a painter to the court of Louis XV. Perhaps his most famous picture was his portrait of Marie-Louise O’Murphy, a saucy portrayal of the naked thirteen year old (apparently commissioned by Casanova) which proved so alluring to the king that he insisted on meeting her- and making her his lover.

Boucher, Venus with Two Doves

Very much like Greuze, sexually desirable young females with plump faces and pert breasts were Boucher’s speciality. He painted scenes of Venus numerous times, but possibly the most memorable is Venus Playing with Two Doves, painted about 1750. The goddess is shown naked, lying on her back on a bed with the two doves clutched passionately to her bosom. Her head lolls back, eyes closed and lips parted, in sensual delight. The device of having the girl cuddle some soft, small animal, whether a puppy, kitten, lamb or pet bird, was something that Greuze deployed repeatedly; the little creature was hugged against the exposed bosom, plainly to excite all sorts of sensuous thoughts in the viewer.

Boucher, Birth of Venus

Most of Boucher’s paintings of Venus are nowhere near as erotic as this. His Birth of Venus, Toilette of Venus and Bath of Venus are just a few of the canvases that exemplify this rather more sedate and demure vision of the goddess of love and passion. She may disport herself with nymphs, cupids and putti, but decorum is preserved and there are always robes and wisps of material at hand to preserve her modesty.

Boucher, Toilette of Venus

There can be little doubt that titillation was Boucher’s primary aim in Venus Playing with Two Doves. Nonetheless, he may at the same time not have been unaware of classical precedent. Birds, most especially doves, are sacred to Aphrodite and symbolised the goddess; they pulled her chariot across the heavens (although other stories give this role to sparrows or swans). It seems likely, in fact, that the Greek word for dove, peristera, is taken directly from the Phoenician perah Ishtar, Ishtar’s bird.

Boucher, Venus Consoling Love, 1751

Boucher died suddenly in his studio, aged sixty-seven. According to one story, he was in the act of painting Venus’ backside; if so, it was arguably a very fitting end. The tastes he had catered for remained popular for another couple of decades at least.

Fragonard, The Stolen Shift

The painter Jean Honore Fragonard, just like Boucher, was another painter in the galant style whose pictures were very consciously sexy. In his famous Swing a young woman wearing no knickers rides the swing whilst her lover sits admiringly on the ground before her; he also painted several versions of the Gimblette or Girl with a Dog in which the semi-naked girl lies on her bed, dandling the puppy on her raised feet. Inevitably, then, Fragonard was keenly alive to the wider erotic potential of the Venus-myth. Two pictures, not ostensibly or directly featuring the goddess, still seem to me to take full advantage of her uninhibited sensual power. The Stolen Shift of 1765 shows a hovering cupid pulling the blouse off a girl on her bed; it’s hard to tell whether the young female is asleep or simply resisting only feebly as she is exposed; there’s a healthy rosy flush on her cheeks- and also on her buttocks.

Fragonard, Feu aux Poudres

All Ablaze or A Match to a Powder Keg (Feu aux Poudres), painted in the same year, shows three cherubs swarming around another naked girl, who is sprawled on her disordered bed. One cherub raises the girl’s bed sheet to expose her, a second, who is laid by her leg with his head near her foot, appears to be stroking her upper thigh with his left hand, or maybe his foot (the match to the keg of the title). Her abandoned demeanour suggests that either she is being worked up into the grip of an erotic reverie or is enjoying a post-orgasmic lassitude.

Fragonard, Birth of Venus

We may note that Fragonard’s Birth of Venus of 1755 once again portrays the goddess as a plump society or court beauty, sprawled with thighs obligingly parted on billowing sheets, her cheeks and pouting lips a rosy pink. The same artist’s Venus Binding Cupid’s Wings (1753-1755) shows the pair kissing passionately whilst the goddess secures his pinions. In the context of these two images, the scene of a cupid arousing the love goddess seems an entirely possible scenario.

The last artist to mention is the sculptor Clodion. Just like Greuze, he specialised in portrayals of young females, and, just like Fragonard, he is known in particular for his ‘Gimblette’ figure in which a naked girl plays with a puppy raised up on her feet. I include here one of his terracotta statues, of a Nymph with Grapes. Clodion sculpted many classical figures, nymphs and satyrs especially, and he had a fondness too for young girls carrying items in their dresses- an activity that required them to pick the skirts up around their waists- with the result seen in the present figure, that her lower body is bared. In this case, we have an added reference to the classical statue of Aphrodite Callipyge- that is, Aphrodite with the nice bum- a famed image that was widely copied across the ancient world and since. The original twists to admire her own shapely buttocks; the nymph here is more concerned with offering the viewer some of her fruit.

Clodion, Nymph

1st century BCE Aphrodite Kallipygos in Naples

To conclude, the painters of the French court before the Revolution understood very clearly that Aphrodite was, indeed, the goddess of love, and they took every opportunity to present her and her son in delightfully suggestive poses. Despite the ample scope for criticising these male artists for sexism and voyeurism, I think one significant aspect of many of the works is the emphasis put upon a woman’s own autonomous pleasure. In this respect, these celebrations of Venus/ Aphrodite emphasise a key aspect of the cult of the goddess of love.

I have recently republished my study of eighteenth century painting, sculpture and literature, A Voyage to the Isle of Venus- Greuze, de Sade & Libertinism in Enlightenment Art, which is available as a paperback and e-book from Amazon. For more information on these titles and on late nineteenth and early twentieth century art history, see my books page.

The Broken Pitcher- some sexual subtexts in art since the 18th century

Mike Cockrill, The Broken Pitcher

The first line of the verse on Mike Cockrill‘s picture seems to come from an English ballad, ‘The Politick Maid of Suffolk,’ which tells of her seduction by the lawyer for whom she worked as a house maid.

“He kissed and pressed her, o’er and o’er/ As I to you may tell,/ Until her apron grew too short before/ Alas! Poor Nell.”

from A Suffolk Garland, 1818

The shortness of her apron is, of course, a metaphor for her pregnancy- her swelling bulge lifting up the garment- although I think to our forebears aprons generally had a sexual connotations. This may be seen in the sixteenth century euphemism ‘to lead her by her apron strings’ which again implied a girl being led away by her lover for illicit sex. We still retain these sexual overtones in the phrase ‘tied to his mother’s apron strings,’ denoting, of course, emasculation rather than rampant expressions of masculinity.

Anyway, to return to Cockrill’s painting, all is not what it seems. The nursery rhyme and the background of children’s games may suggest a relatively innocent scene, but there is a subtext. Young Nell, looking winsome in her faux-eighteenth century dress with its laced bodice, apron and straw hat, is not at all as young and naive as her playmates. Her dress has slipped to reveal a bare shoulder and a hint of juvenile bosom; the angle of her head and her expression imply a more knowing and come-hither attitude than the puzzlement of her friends by the well. All of this is compounded and confirmed by the knowledge that Cockrill’s title, The Broken Pitcher, is merely a translation of the title of a rather more famous painting by French artist Jean-Baptiste Greuze (1725-1805).

Greuze, La cruche cassée

La cruche cassée (The broken jug) was painted around 1771-73. At first glance, it is just an image of a pretty girl in a white dress carrying some flowers, but a closer study reveals that the flowers came from the jug, which is now broken and is carried over her arm. She appears to have gone to a well to fill the jug with water for the blooms, but something untoward happened there- and it may not be only the jug that has been broken. Her dress is disarranged and the bodice has been pulled down to give a glimpse of breast and nipple. As with Poor Nell (both of them) , sex and loss of innocence seem to be the real subjects.

Listening Girl

Greuze was a court and society painter at Versailles under Louis XV. He specialised in sexualised images of noble ladies and suggestive pictures of young girls. Very often his juvenile subjects are overwhelmed by some strong emotion (most often the death of a beloved pet bird) and, in the grip of this, they expose a bare bosom unawares. Sex and allure are what Greuze’s art was all about- and this reputation has survived into modern times. Cockrill understood this as his subtle reference demonstrates; so too, for example, did Mary Wesley in her novel The Camomile Lawn (1984). Wesley’s character Max Erstweiler, a serial philanderer, tells one of his lovers, Helena, who is standing before him in her nightdress, that she “looks like a Greuze.” He is admiring her, “pink, amply rounded, blonde,” when he speaks. This comparison with Greuze is made more apposite, though, by the fact that Max later seduces Sophy, Helena’s niece, when she is only fourteen or fifteen. Moreover, shortly before she loses her virginity with Max, Sophy also unwittingly inflicts great frustration upon another family friend, Tony, when he sees her wearing one of Helena’s transparent silk night dresses. Admiring her maturing figure through the thin fabric, he realises she’s no longer a child but an attractive girl and that he desires her powerfully, even though she’s underage.

Girl with Flower

Girl with a letter

Greuze’s speciality was the unconsciously alluring young female. His juvenile subjects seldom engage with the viewer, or seem aware of their exposure, although an exception to this is the embarrassed looking Girl with a Rose. Greuze’s adult subjects are consistently very different- as we see in the White Hat, a portrait of a young woman who is very aware of her attractiveness and power. Still, Greuze was by no means alone amongst artists of the time in presenting young females as sexually attractive. Amongst other painters and sculptors of the period who worked in the same galant style are Charles-Andre van Loo, Jean-Honore Fragonard, the sculptor Claude Michel, known as Clodion, and Francois Boucher. They all produced titillating works featuring ‘nymphets,’ but I shall focus here on the latter artist.

Girl in Red Dress

Young Girl with a Rose

The White Hat

Boucher (1703-70), is perhaps the most celebrated French artist of his time.  His most notorious painting is his nude portrait study of Marie-Louise O’Murphy (1752).  The painter’s subject was thirteen at the time and she is shown stretched out luxuriously on a chaise-longue.  The image was, reportedly, commissioned by Casanova, who found her living in poverty in Paris. He described her as a “slovenly girl” who, however, when she had removed her dirty and tattered clothes, was revealed to be a perfect beauty. Sadly, she was utterly filthy, so on their first night together he had to wash her with his own hands before doing “all he pleased” with her- except that she refused intercourse, pricing her virginity at twenty-five crowns, a substantial sum that he was unwilling to pay.  Nonetheless, he “found in her a talent which had attained great perfection, in spite of her precocity.” Casanova spent some time with the girl, although he never raised the money to deflower her.  Before they parted, he determined to obtain a memento: 

“I took a fancy to possess a painting of that beautiful body, and a German artist painted it for me splendidly for six louis. The position in which he painted it was delightful. She was lying on her stomach, her arms and her bosom leaning on a pillow, and holding her head sideways as if she were partly on the back. The clever and tasteful artist had painted her nether parts with so much skill and truth that no one could have wished for anything more beautiful; I was delighted with that portrait; it was a speaking likeness, and I wrote under it, “O-Morphi,” not a Homeric word, but a Greek one after all, and meaning beautiful.”

This picture, with all its voluptuous promise, was seen by King Louis XV, who determined to see the model.  He “found her even better than the painting” in the flesh and she became his mistress in 1753, when he would have been forty-three years old, three times her age.  The relationship lasted two years and she became pregnant with his child, which she later lost.

Marie-Louise O’Murphy

Gilles Demarteau’s print of Boucher’s painting (c.1761) is interesting for the fact that it adds a Cupid to make the image rather more classically acceptable, whilst at the same time arguably heightening the sexual frisson by having the small boy use her buttock and thigh as a pillow.

Boucher was evidently attracted by the girlish nude, as can be seen from the nymph in the sea in the foreground of his Rape of Europa. She has the same juvenile rounded face as O’Murphy- as, indeed, have several of the other nymphs and handmaids in the scene. The ample display of plump pink flesh typifies the style of the period.

Boucher, The Rape of Europa

Boucher’s style of art and his subject matter were very much of their time, a reflection of the court life and morality of the Ancien Regime. Changing artistic tastes and a changing political and social scene, brought about by the French Revolution, made artists like Greuze and Clodion outdated figures in the later decades of their lives. They were swept away and rendered irrelevant by the classicism of David and others.

Themes of sexuality and gender did not, however, vanish forever from French art, they simply went into abeyance for a period of time. From the emergence of Symbolism in the mid-nineteenth century onwards, a preparedness to write about- and to paint or illustrate- the full spectrum of sexual interests re-emerged, as I have already mentioned in posts on Gerda Wegener, Cheri Herouard and on the prose and poetry of Pierre Louys. Doubtless, there will be more to say…

… and a lot of that is now said in my newly republished study, A Voyage to the Isle of Venus- Greuze, de Sade & Libertinism in Enlightenment Art, which sets eighteenth century art in the context of the libertine literature of the period (de Sade, de Parny, Casanova and others), before tracing the impact of this ‘gallant painting’ on later styles of art. See my books page for further details.