This
beautiful picture by Nicolas Poussin
(1594-1665) is currently in the Detroit
Institute of Arts – but it is possible that the museum will sell its
collection to cover some $15-$17 billion in debt.
Poussin was
the greatest painter of the classical French
Baroque style. He lived for most of
his life in Rome, where he felt he had access to the greatest masterpieces of
antiquity. There is a stately majesty to
his work, a brilliant command of drawing, and a sure eye for composition. Though he would fall out of favor for a long
period after his death, his work was appreciated by intelligent aesthetes and
he would go on to influence artists as diverse as Jean-August-Dominque Ingres (1780-1867) and Jacques-Louis David (1748-1825).
This
remarkable picture tells the story of Selene
and Endymion. Though accounts of the story vary – with
Endymion either a shepherd, astronomer or king – they all agree upon his
remarkable beauty. In one version of the
story Selene, the Titan goddess of the moon, thought Endymion so beautiful that
she asked Zeus to grant him eternal youth so that he would never leave
her. Zeus granted her wish, but put him
into eternal sleep. Selene would visit
him each night where he slept – over time, the two would have 50 daughters. (Obviously Endymion was a light sleeper.)
In another
version of the story Hypnos, the god of sleep, in awe of Endymion’s beauty,
causes him to sleep with his eyes open, to better admire his natural face. Selene
grew to love him from afar, and brought love to him during his dreams.
Selene was
the twin sister of Apollo, so she was herself a great beauty. The Romans would later come to worship her as
a triple deity, Luna (the sky), Diana (the earth), Hecate (the underworld).
The story
of Selene and Endymion has captured the imagination of artists and poets from
antiquity on. Endymion would stand as a
symbol of eternal beauty – a joy forever.
Poussin's painting shows Endymion awake, kneeling to welcome the arrival
of the moon goddess, while her brother the sun-god is just beginning his
journey across the heavens in his golden chariot.
The
stagecraft of Poussin here is remarkable.
The heavy blue curtains of night are opened to reveal the chariot of the
sun lighting up the sky with various shades of yellow and gold. The scene is revealed almost like a
theatrical tableaux, and the dramatic intensity is palpable.
The sheep
and dog and the background point to Poussin illustrating the
Endymion-as-shepherd version of the tale.
The sleeping putti speak to the overall enchantment of Endymion and his
environs and it is clear that we are in a mystical space.
One of the
most interesting things is the relationship between the figures of Selene and
Endymion. The youth falls to his knee in
supplication before the moon goddess – this is not an act of romantic love, but
religious adoration. Selene, with her
half-moon diadem, returns the gaze, but it does not seem to be romantic (or
even erotic) love she shares with the boy, but possession and comfort.
However,
she holds love’s arrow in her hand, and she is as much a victim of Cupid as any
mortal. To Poussin, the gods are
magnificent and supernatural, but not unmoved by human passions.
This is not
a large picture (some 48x66), but the scope of Poussin’s vision is
impressive. The story of Selene and
Endymion is also rife with subtext; Endymion finds the love of an idealized god
(and eternal youth) in his dreams. How
richly populated by myth and beauty are our own dreams? To what extend are our dreams our true lives,
the realest manifestation of our selves?
The power of myth is closely akin to the power of dreams, and we dismiss
the power of either at our own peril.
Tomorrow, we go to the movies see a
contemporary blockbuster.
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