Salome Dancing Before Herod by Gustave Moreau - Research Paper Example

Gustave Moreau - Salome Dancing Before Herod: A Dark Symbolism Abstract Gustave Moreau’s (1826-1898) Salome Dancing Before Herod is an important painting that heralded the advent of the symbolist movement. It is an unusual painting that is brooding and dark rather than merry: its subjects seem morose. Dwarfed by the impressive architectural surroundings, which are sumptuous and overbearing, Salome dances in front of Herod, and the musicians seem to comply obediently, without much joy. What is the significance of this painting, and how was it received by audiences of its time? The trend it started and the position of its creator within the history of art and artistic movements are indicative of the shifting traditions and moral values of the late 1800s. Gustave Moreau - Salome Dancing Before Herod: A Dark Symbolism ‘I just believe what I cannot see.’ These famous words of Gustave Moreau’s suggest a contemplative, assertive character. We are assured by biographers, however, that he lacked confidence, never aligned himself with movements or groups, and attached himself with a kind of adolescent obsession to objects and souvenirs of his happier days (Lacambre et al, 1999). Yet in this, one of his most lauded works, Salome Dancing Before Herod, we see assurance and poise. We see familiarity and facility not only with the human form, but also with intricate design, accurate draftsmanship and architecture. We see attention to infinitesimal detail, and inclusion of objects that set the scene, and also tell a story within a story. We come upon a scene that is at once clear and ambiguous. Only a confident artist can combine the two. Moreau was confident of his craft. This painting is the embodiment of his assertion that ‘... art was intended for the presentation of the beautiful as a perfect combination of ideas and form.’ (Barewalls,2005) Salome Dancing Before Herod, an intricate, complex painting that Moreau finished in 1875, is the embodiment of an abstract idea, captured within an exquisite form. It might confuse the viewer at first, because of the artist’s obvious but hard to decipher symbology: this is a painting that requires careful observation over a long period. It does not instantly stun the viewer, but oozes a powerful subtle appeal to approach and observe more closely. In this sense, although it is not a small painting - 36 by 24 inches - it is also an intimate one. One could say it is intimate magnificence. Unusually, the portrayed subjects occupy only the lower third of the canvas. Moreau achieves a sense of space and grandeur by giving as much importance to the ambience as he gives to the exotic dancer, Salome, and the enthroned Herod who, sitting on high and dressed in official robes, seems morose and preoccupied rather than roused by the scantily clad woman. He loosely holds his mace, a symbol of royalty, but seems to be waiting rather than enjoying the dance: waiting for an opportunity to leave, perhaps. The voluptuous woman dances, her movement shown by the position of a veil that floats out behind her, and another that twirls at her knees. She is bejeweled and finely dressed: this is no ordinary court entertainer. She is a woman of some importance. The decorative temple towers over the group, its dark statues and figured columns eerie and sinister: given equal if not greater importance than the mortals within it. The viewer is struck by purposeful verticality: the dizzying height of the arched ceiling, the statuesque figures and the colonnaded space. We are meant to be awed by the imposing height. The dancer is the lowest of all the figures: she stands on the floor at the foot of the steps to the throne, yet she is powerful, and her feet touch a symbolically crimson carpet: red as the blood of her victim. Three musicians strike the viewer with their lack of cheer: it is a somber scene in spite of the luxuriant surroundings, underscored by the foreboding presence on the bottom right hand side of a large black mastiff hound. This is symbology writ large: mysterious and impenetrable, and full of the portent of death. The sumptuous garments and lush decoration, down to the flowers strewn on the floor, are detailed in jewel tones and fine detail. There is realism as well as myth. Symmetry, triangulation and classic placement are present but, unlike in other artists’ works of the time, such as Matisse and Bonnaud - both of them students of Moreau’s - they do not reassure and comfort the viewer. Instead, they add to the mystery that shrouds the action. Questions are raised: what event prompted Salome to dance? Although the flower-strewn scene is exotic and beautiful, why is the viewer not filled with joy? The demand to look closer is strong. The viewer’s eye darts all over the picture, from pointed foot to pointed finger, from gilded arch to obsidian column. Other details are noticed: the blazing hanging oil lamps on high, on either side of the dancer’s head; an incense fountain, and the Lotus flower clasped close to the dancer’s face. There are also looming winged statues and the gleam of gilding and marble. Can meaning be placed on each and every one of these details? One need go no further than the dancer herself for an explanation of the exotic surroundings and the watcher, who sits in rapt contemplation of her movements. She is Salome, the embodiment of female seduction, the personification of sensuality used for pecuniary means. She is one of the temptresses Moreau loved to depict. But more: she is known as the woman who demanded the head of John the Baptist on a plate. So she is murderous and ruthless, albeit beautiful and talented. She is a femme fatale: a favorite subject of Gustave Moreau’s, one we know he painted more than just once. Her beauty is lethal, her charm dangerous. This 1876 painting was surprisingly well-received by critics at the Salon in Paris (Barewalls, 2005), but it ‘electrified’ the audience, and ensured Moreau’s reputation was marked thereafter by his penchant for painting sensuous women from myths and history, for it was not only Salome that he painted, but Delilah, Circe, Helen and others. Indeed, he did believe what he could not see: biblical and mythical characters were to him such a stock in trade, worked and re-worked over and over again, that they became his signature. It is very difficult, because of the number of versions he made, to date his paintings, or to place them within a chronology (Lacambre et al, 1998). Over a lifetime of dedicated artistry, Moreau produced 8,000 paintings, watercolors and drawings, many of them easily recognizable by students of art, and many of them examples of the brilliance Moreau accomplished as a colorist. Many are exhibited at a museum which was once his workshop in Paris. Among his masterpieces, Salome was a puzzling biblical character, one who invoked a dark sense of malevolence and vindication. Two years before Moreau’s death in 1898, Oscar Wilde’s play titled with her name was staged in Paris (Ellman 1988). It was a scandalous event by English standards, since portraying biblical characters on stage was illegal in England at the time, hence the production in France. It is easy to imagine Moreau in the audience, seeing his own painting come to life. Wilde was very aware of the talent and acclaim of the artist, and wanted illustrations for his printed version to be like Moreau’s painting in mood and atmosphere. ‘My Herod is like the Herod of Gustave Moreau, wrapped in his jewels and sorrow.’ (Ellman, 1988) This is what gives us the most vital literary hint about Moreau’s painting and how it was received in its time. It was perceived as dark and brooding, and the image of Herod as sorrowful, looking at the cruel dancing temptress with perhaps a jaded eye. Gauging the importance of this painting within its time is not an easy undertaking: one must summon and examine the traditions and fashions, as well as the moral values and customs, of the audience for which Moreau created it. Paris in the late 1800s was a cultural hothouse with influences of a worldly and wide-ranging nature. The choice of a biblical subject is deceptive, because Salome was not a saint or revered figure, but rather one wrapped in scandal, deceit and outrage. Her hands, as well as her cloak and the carpet she danced on, were tainted with red. ‘When I want to render these fine nuances, I do not find them in the subject, but in the nature of women in real life...’ Moreau said. He found importance in ambiguity (Paladilhe & Josbe, 1972) and expressed it as he saw it. Perhaps it expresses his opinion of womanhood. The importance of this picture lies in its signposting of changing times that people sensed as they hurtled towards the turn of the 20th century. Society was being shaken by theories and inventions, ideas and innovations that would leave the world a changed place (Kaplan, 1982), and it was pieces of art such as this one that marked the turbulence and commotion that was to stimulate even more controversial pieces from artists that were to follow in Gustave Moreau’s footsteps. Moreau was not intrinsically part of the symbolist movement: he was its precursor, and many were to take his lead and inspiration. His art, and this painting in particular, is important not only because of the amazing use of brilliant color or the liberties taken with composition or subject: it started a trend among artists to characterize and capture abstractions, such as the actualization of women’s rights at a time when suffrage for the feminist movement was active, and to symbolise the current theories by picturing them strangely and memorably. * References Ellman, Richard (1988) Oscar Wilde Vintage Kaplan, Julius David (1982) Art of Gustave Moreau: Theory, Style, and Content Umi Research Pro Lacambre, Genevieve; Feinberg, Larry J; de Conteson, Maurie-Laure; Druic, Douglas (1999) Gustave Moreau: Between Epic and Dream Art Inst of Chicago Matthieu, Pierre Louis (1998) Gustave Moreau, L’assembleur des rèves (1826-1898) Art Creation Realisation (French Ed.) Paladilhe, Jean & Josbe, Pierre (1972) Gustave Moreau Barewalls.com Read More