Archive for the 'Myth Remastered' Category

11
Aug

Myth Remastered: Polyphemus & Galatea

Polyphemus & Galatea in Rome's Villa Farnesina

Writers of ancient myths were the first to sum up the difficulties between the genders, thousands of years ago recording a fact that has been recently rediscovered in our modern era – “men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”  Earlier this year, faithful eCool readers may have noted that the gender-based miscommunication between Apollo and Daphne was the result of mischievous Cupid’s arrows, but as is demonstrated in today’s Myth Remastered dispatch, other ancient lovers faced crises compelled by miscommunications all their own.

One such story is painted on the walls of the Villa Farnesina, a Renaissance “love shack” built by Agostino Chigi, the richest man in the Renaissance.  Chigi fancied himself a connoisseur of architecture and painting, as well as classical literature.  In keeping with these interests, he commissioned the artists Raphael and Sebastiano del Piombo to adorn his walls with the ancient Roman myth of Galatea, a beautiful water nymph, and the hulking Cyclops she rejected, Polyphemus (see above).

Raphael painted Galatea as a representation of ideal beauty and she seems almost to be an ancient marble sculpture brought to life (though Renaissance rumor had it that the Galatea was a portrait of Agostino Chigi’s illustrious courtesan Imperia and that Raphael had spent some quality time with this gifted woman while sketching her for the painting).  On the adjacent panel, the portrait of Polyphemus, painted by Sebastiano del Piombo, is the very antithesis of ideal beauty.  The Cyclops is an incredibly hairy hulk who appears a bit out of place in the loosely rendered landscape that he inhabits.

The story of this mismatched pair comes from Ovid, who tells us that Galatea was madly in love with a handsome young man named Acis, and that their relationship was an exclusive one:

    Son of river-nymph Symaethis
And Faunus was his father, a great joy
To both his parents, and a greater joy
To me; for me, and me alone, he loved.

Though Galatea swore her devotion to Acis alone, Polyphemus worshiped her.  Sadly, his affections were not returned, for she found this uncivilized beast repugnant:

He wooed me endlessly and, if you ask
Whether my hate for him or love for Acis
Was stronger in my heart, I could not tell;
For both were equal.

Over and over Galatea politely rejected Polyphemus’s advances, but he was not to be dissuaded.  To their family and friends, it seemed obvious that the relationship not meant to be – the two were utterly incompatible!  Galatea was a water nymph and Polyphemus could not swim and was even deathly afraid of the water.  Nonetheless, the Cyclops spent his days trying to lure his beloved to dry land.  She never took the bait.

In his efforts to win a date with Galatea, Polyphemus heaped praise upon her.  One day, in absolute desperation for her affections, the Cyclops composed a long speech in which he compared Galatea with all he found beautiful in untamed nature.  In another demonstrative discourse, he promised her that his love and devotion would bring her great benefits and he recounted the many gifts he intended to give her when she at last succumbed to his embrace:

No easy gifts or commonplace delights
Shall be your portion—does and goats and hares,
A pair of doves, a gull’s nest from the cliff.
I found on day among the mountain peaks,
For you to play with, twins so much alike
You scarce could tell, cubs of a shaggy bear.
I found them and I said ‘She shall have these;
I’ll keep them for my mistress for her own.’

But none of these tactics convinced Galatea to leave Acis and give her love to Polyphemus.  As is common in such situations, the Cyclops simply could not understand why the nymph he loved so much would continue to reject him. “What does she want,” he asked himself?  “I come from a good family. My father, Neptune is the king of the sea.  And, I’ve got a great career in front of me!  I’ve been cast in an important role in Homer’s Odyssey.  I’m going to be a star!”  Thinking that the problem might be with his looks, Polyphemus exercised vigorously and spent the rest of his time examining his reflection in pools of water, carefully tending the masses of hair that covered his body.  As he gazed at his likeness, it seemed impossible that Galatea would not find him attractive:

    For sure I know—I have just seen—myself
Reflected in a pool, and what I saw
Was truly pleasing. See how large I am!
No bigger body Jupiter himself can boast
Up in the sky—you always talk of Jupiter
Or someone reigning up there. My ample hair
O’erhangs my grave stern face and like a grove
Darkens my shoulders; you must not think me
Me ugly, that my body is so thick
With prickly bristles. Trees without their leaves
Are ugly, a horse is ugly too
Without a mane to cover its sorrel neck.
Feathers clothe birds and fleece grace sheep:
So beard and bristles best become a man.
Upon my brow I have on e single eye,
But it is huge, like some vast shield. What then?

Still, however, Galatea could not be seduced.  No longer able to stand the pain of unrequited love, Polyphemus tore through the woods and fields in a fierce rage, looking for the nymph and her lover.  When he discovered them frolicking together at the river’s edge, he gave a shout so loud it made Mt. Etna tremble.  Thus warned of his presence, Galatea dove into the sea, but before Acis could escape, the massive Cyclops tore a boulder from a mountaintop and hurled it at the youth. The stone crushed Acis, but in that moment Galatea implored the Fates to allow her to remain forever with her lover.

Her wish was granted:  as Acis’s blood began to flow from underneath the rock that crushed him, it turned into a clear stream of water.  Then, the boulder cracked open, and from the crevice emerged a tall, green reed from which a fountain of water gushed skyward.  Only an instant later, a young river god stood waist-deep in the water, his glistening face colored wave-blue like the finest of aquamarines.  Acis had been transformed into an immortal river god so that he and Galatea might spend eternity together.

19
Jun

Myth Remastered: Cupid & Psyche in the Love Shack

The Villa Farnesina in Roem

Today we bring you another installment in our Myths Remastered series. We began the series several weeks ago with a retelling of the story of Apollo and Daphne. Today we take on Cupid and Psyche, the famous lovers featured in a loggia designed by Raphael in the Villa Farnesina.

Cupid, god of love, was an arrow-toting teenage divinity, but he was not immune to the powers of the heart. His first and only love was a mortal woman named Psyche, whose beauty and charm the young Cupid found irresistible. The true but tumultuous love story of Cupid and Psyche is immortalized on the walls and ceiling of Rome’s Villa Farnesina (see above), a Renaissance pleasure palace built by Agostino Chigi.

Chigi, a banker and power broker, was celebrated as the richest man in Rome for some twenty years in the early 1500s. Already in possession of a proper palazzo in the center of the city, he wanted (and no doubt needed) a suburban villa—a place where he could get away from the constant pressures induced by the task of keeping track of Papal bank accounts. Thus, Chigi built himself a luxurious weekend getaway in a Roman subdivision being developed by his client and friend, Pope Julius II. While Chigi might have claimed that his villa was a place for deep thoughts and business deals (thereby making it a Renaissance tax write-off), everyone in town called his suburban villa the “love shack,” for like all Renaissance moguls, Agostino made a practice of engaging the most elegant and expensive courtesans, and his Villa provided precisely the venue in which he could partake of that leisurely pastime.

When he broke ground for his villa in 1508, Agostino intended to inhabit it alongside his mistress, a very famous Renaissance courtesan named Imperia. Mocking the relationship, a contemporary poet penned a droll verse about Agostino (here likened to Rome’s first emperor, Augustus) and his lover

Your Imperia, Augustus
She is no empire,
But she with her name changed is called Emporium.

Unfortunately, Chigi and Imperia parted ways before the Villa was complete. However, not one to remain single for long, Agostino made a trip to Venice where a beautiful young girl named Francesca captured his heart. She moved into the “love shack” in 1511 and over the course of the next years, she and Agostino had four children together before finally taking vows at the insistence of Pope Leo X in 1519.

The Loggia of Cupid & Psyche in Rome's Villa Farnesina

Agostino and Francesca’s new home must have been featured on the cover of every sixteenth-century interior design magazine, for its décor provided a dazzling display of all the best that money could buy. Baldessare Peruzzi, an architect from Chigi’s hometown, Siena, was chosen to design the villa, and he employed a classical style meant to honor and to evoke the glory of ancient Rome. Inside the villa, Raphael, Sodoma, Peruzzi, and Sebastiano del Piombo were commissioned to fresco the walls and ceilings with the love affairs of the ancient Roman gods and goddesses. Certainly Agostino meant for these love stories to inspire the passions of his mistress and to titillate his constant stream of guests – many of them high-ranking church officials.

Chigi asked Raphael to decorate the vaulted ceiling and the walls of his entry loggia with a cycle of frescoes. Overcommitted in both his work and his personal life, Raphael didn’t have time to do much of the painting, but he did manage to produce sketches that were used by his apprentices to decorate the impressive entryway. The result is a glorious cycle of frescoes that depict the romance of Cupid and Psyche – an ancient love story made popular by Renaissance humanists and one meant to assure us that true love will triumph over any adversity.

Psyche was a mortal girl - the youngest daughter of a king and queen. She was so beautiful that the citizens of her town came to believe that she was Venus reborn and therefore offered her the same kinds of adulation that they generally reserved for the Goddess of Love. High and mighty Venus – always jealous when the spotlight shone on another pretty girl – was vexed when her devoted worshipers focused their attention elsewhere and so she sent her son Cupid to punish Psyche in the worst of all possible ways.

Cupid’s assignment was to make the mortal girl fall in love with someone just her opposite - a base and ugly man who would make her life miserable. But, in sending Cupid to do her dirty work, Venus did not take into account the effect that Psyche’s beauty might have on her teenage love child, and when Cupid laid eyes on Psyche, he was so overcome with passion that he forgot his mission. In the utmost of secrecy, he whisked the girl off to his palace in the sky, Once in Cupid’s abode, Psyche was waited on hand and foot by the gentle breezes, and each night Cupid visited her, though he kept his identity concealed. The god promised to be faithful to the smitten Psyche forever if she did not try to find out his identity. Trust was paramount to the maintenance of this relationship.

The Loggia of Cupid & Psyche in Rome's Villa Farnesina

Psyche agreed to Cupid’s condition of anonymity, but the promise she made to him was hard to keep, and its difficulty only increased when Psyche’s sisters came to visit her in Cupid’s palace. Always jealous of her beauty, the two sisters now became resentful of Psyche’s heavenly home. “Who is he?” they asked. “What does he look like?” Psyche had no answers. Each time the sisters visited, they became increasingly envious. On their third visit, Psyche had some exciting news. “I’m going to have a baby,” she told them joyfully. But the happy moment was ruined when the sisters began to press Psyche even further about the identity of her lover. They suggested to her that he might be a terrible monster that would devour her when the baby was born. Terrified, Psyche agreed that it would be wise to discover his identity, and with her sisters she concocted a plan.

For the trusting Cupid, that fateful night was just like any other. After a long day of shooting love’s arrows, the young god headed home, anticipating a cozy evening with his beloved. Following a candlelit dinner served by the winds themselves, Cupid and Psyche fell into bed and made love. Then, as usual, Cupid drifted off to sleep. Psyche, on the other hand, stayed alert, and when Cupid was lightly snoring she quietly lit an oil lamp and held it above him. What she saw was not at all what her sisters had suggested. Her lover was no monster! He was so radiant and godlike in his beauty that Psyche was overcome by his immortal splendor. Her hand began to tremble and a drop of hot oil spilled out of the lamp and onto Cupid’s shoulder.

Rudely awakened, Cupid sprang from bed, enraged that Psyche had broken her vow. He banished his lover from the castle and fled to his mother’s side in search of comfort. Outraged to hear of her son’s secret relationship, Venus went in pursuit of Psyche, thrilled to have a legitimate reason to squelch her archrival. However, unable to capture the merely mortal girl, Venus implored Jupiter to send out a search party, and when Psyche was finally found, she was brought to stand in judgment before the Goddess of Love, who sought her revenge by sentencing the girl to a series of impossible tasks.

First, Venus made Psyche sort an enormous pyramid of mixed grains. The task looked hopeless, but an industrious team of ants came to her aid. Next she sent the girl to gather golden wool from a dangerous flock of man-eating sheep. Against all odds, the girl succeeded in this task as well. Then Venus commanded Psyche to fill a vessel at a stream protected by a dragon. At just the right moment, Jupiter’s eagle dropped from the sky and swiftly filled the container for her.

The Loggia of Cupid & Psyche in Rome's Villa Farnesina

Bemused at Psyche’s successful completion of these tasks (and even angrier than before), Venus assigned Psyche a chore that she knew would destroy her. The girl was commissioned to go to the Underworld where she was to fill a vessel with Queen Persephone’s beauty and bring it back to Venus. Knowing the impossibility of this task – no one was able to return to the living once they entered the Underworld - Psyche threw herself from a tower in despair. But, as she fell, the tower spoke, giving her instructions as to how the task might be completed, and the winds came to her rescue and safely guided her to the ground.

Cupid, in the meantime, was recovering from his burn. When he became aware of the torture his mother was inflicting on Psyche, the boy-god intervened by going directly to Venus’s superior. He asked Jupiter, the King of the Gods, for permission to marry Psyche (even though doing so was risky business as he had repeatedly wounded Jupiter with lust-inducing arrows that sent the King of the Gods careening from one ignoble dignified romantic encounter to another). At an assembly of the gods, the arrow-toting boy-god’s request was granted. A splendid wedding feast appeared in the heavens and all the gods came to celebrate the union of Cupid (Erotic Love) with Psyche (the Mind). Shortly thereafter, their child, Voluptas (Pleasure), was born.

Such is the story portrayed in Agostino Chigi’s Loggia of Cupid and Psyche. And though Raphael complied with the wishes of Agostino Chigi in that he designed the Cupid and Psyche paintings in the loggia, he was just too busy to do much of the actual painting. The only figure that can definitively be said to be by Raphael is one of the Three Graces, who sits delicately on a cloud, her bare back and bottom facing the viewer, as she twists to look over her shoulder (see the second photo in this entry). The rest of the scenes on the walls and the ceiling – including the faux tapestries that billow below a blue sky and appear to be woven with images of Cupid asking Jupiter for the hand of Psyche as well as the wedding of the lovers – were almost certainly painted by Raphael’s apprentices.

The Loggia of Cupid & Psyche in Rome's Villa Farnesina

Click here to read our interview with best-selling author Dave King, whose new novel, a work-in-progress, is inspired (in part) by the Villa Farnesina and by Cupid and Psyche.

05
Jun

Apollo & Daphne: Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

Bernini's Apollo & Daphne in Rome's Galleria Borghese

When we at the eCool Compound are not dedicating our time to work, food, or sleep, we’re often talking about ancient myths. We love to hear the stories of the gods and goddesses told–and we also love to recount them to enthusiastic audiences. And so, in order to indulge our mythological mania, we’re starting a new series of posts dubbed “Myth Remastered.” It is our hope that this series will give us a good excuse to recount our own slightly remixed versions of the titillating tales and will also remind readers of the masterworks of Roman art and architecture that embody the stories.

We inaugurate the series today with a retelling of the story behind Gianlorenzo Bernini’s famous sculpture of Apollo & Daphne in Rome’s Galleria Borghese:

Bernini's Apollo & Daphne in Rome's Galleria Borghese

With his cherubic face and his teenage sense of humor, Cupid was a god who spent most of his time doing the bidding of his mother, Venus. In fulfilling her lusty missions, his weapons of choice were the bow and arrow, and to his credit, the teen god shot his darts with uncanny accuracy. In fact, ancient Romans feared being the target of Cupid’s arrows—and for good reason. His quiver was filled with both gold- and lead-tipped projectiles and both types of arrows left their victim utterly unable to control their emotions.

Pierced by the immortal marksman’s golden-tipped arrows, one would fall into a life of blissful romance and true love. But that almost never happened. More commonly, Cupid fired off blunt, leaden projectiles. Those struck by the dull darts were destined to chase wildly after the very person who would be utterly repulsed by their affections.

Ovid, a Roman poet of the first century BC, informs us that Cupid even went so far as to shoot his arrows at other gods. The poet gleefully tells of an event that occurred one afternoon, as Cupid was hanging out on Mount Parnassus with Apollo, the god of arts and the overseer of hunting and healing. As the deities go, Apollo was an all-around good guy, well liked by his fellow immortals, and on this particular day, he and Cupid were teasing each other in the way that boy gods so often do. Being the elder of the two, Apollo was inflicting insults on Cupid, mocking the small size and puny power of the younger god’s arrows, while boasting that his own projectiles were necessarily longer and more potent, because he used them to hunt and kill wild animals.

Audibly sighing and rolling his eyes, Cupid refused to return the insults, and so Apollo became bored of the verbal sparring and headed out for a real hunt. But, as Apollo turned from Cupid, the little love-god’s parting remark left the older (but perhaps not wiser) deity worrying about what might befall him:

Your bow, Apollo,
May conquer all, but mine shall conquer you.
As every creature yields to power divine
So likewise shall your glory yield to mine.

These lines are commonly translated as:

Dude.
You may be bigger than me,
but I’ve got ways of getting even.

The vengeful Cupid began to look for the right opportunity to get back at Apollo. Soon he spied an extraordinarily beautiful nymph named Daphne, the daughter of the river god Peneus. Cupid had known Daphne a long time and so he was aware that like so many other girls in the region, she had given her life and her virtue to Apollo’s virginal twin sister, the goddess Diana, and had taken a vow of chastity that prohibited her from making love to a man. Slyly, Cupid pondered what might happen if Apollo were to fall madly in love with such an honorable nymph.

And so, with spiteful wrath (this is not your usual Hallmark god), Cupid reached into his quiver and carefully selected two arrows with opposing powers —gold-tipped one that set its victim’s heart aflame with love, and a lead-tipped one that would extinguish any amorous desire in its target. Pulling his bowstring taut, Cupid aimed the gold-tipped projectile at Apollo. As the arrow took flight, it glistened in the afternoon sun and then embedded itself deeply into his heart. Next, he loaded the dull, lead-tipped arrow into his bow, and shot it at the chaste Daphne, knowing that it would cause her to utterly reject Apollo’s arrow-provoked amour.

Hiding in the shadow of Mount Parnassus, Cupid watched his handiwork unfold. As Apollo ran through the woods, he spotted the lovely Daphne in the distance. As he began to move closer to her, his body was inflamed with love and desire. Gaining ground on the nymph, he called out to her:

Stay, Sweet nymph! Oh stay! I am no foe to fear.

(“Hey, I’m Apollo. You are so beautiful! Haven’t we met somewhere before?”)

When Apollo grew yet nearer to Daphne, she noticed his flushed face and recognized his intentions in an instant. The nymph turned and took flight, but Apollo continued his chase, calling out again:

I’m the lord of Delphi. I am the son of Jupiter. By me
Things future, past and present are revealed;
I shape the harmony of songs and strings.

(“I’m an artist!
I can recite poetry!
My father is very important…
Let’s just go for a coffee and get to know each other, OK?)

Hearing this, Daphne quickened her pace, for Cupid’s lead-tipped arrow had made the very sight of the god repulsive to her. But Apollo sped up and rapidly gained ground on Daphne. As he closed the gap between them, the nymph was compelled to take drastic measures. Ahead, in the distance, she saw the swift river Peneus (who also happened to be her father) and she called out to him in despair:

Help, Father, help!

(Help, Father, help!)

Daphne begged her father to take from her the very thing that Apollo most desired—her beauty. In that divine moment Daphne’s prayers were answered. As Apollo—who was only a half a step behind the nymph—reached out to grab the torso of his sweet prize, he realized that something was amiss. Expecting to feel the soft, smooth skin of a young maiden, he grasped the tough, crusted bark of a tree instead! A metamorphosis was underway: Daphne’s father had saved her by turning her into a tree! As Apollo stood watching with dismay, bark began to envelope Daphne’s skin, her hair turned to branches bearing fresh green leaves, and her toes took root and embedded themselves in the earth. In a matter of seconds, the young and beautiful Daphne was no more.

Apollo was stunned to discover that the girl he so loved had become a laurel tree (in Greek called a daphne), but he swore his allegiance nonetheless. He could feel the beating of her heart through the rough bark that now covered her body, and so he delicately plucked leaves from her branches and crowned his head, proclaiming:

At least, sweet laurel, you shall be my tree.

(You look good, but there goes my Saturday night!)

Fast forward to the seventeenth century: the young sculptor, Gianlorenzo Bernini is commissioned to depict Daphne’s miraculous metamorphosis in a life-size marble sculpture for art collector and Cardinal Nephew, Scipione Borghese. The commission presented Bernini with two challenges: first, there was the difficulty of demonstrating the transformation of a human body in a material as hard and unyielding as marble; second, the sculptor was to compete with the story’s ancient author, giving visual form to Ovid’s inspiring poetry.

Despite these difficulties, Bernini’s incomparable talent enabled him to create a sculpture that evokes the tension of the chase, Daphne’s fear, and the wonder of the bodily metamorphosis. His sculpture leaves the viewer in breathless awe, for it embodies the process by which Daphne’s human form was transformed into that of a tree. Shaped by Bernini’s chisel, marble is no longer a cold, hard material, but becomes soft, pliable, and clay-like—a substance that can be modeled into human flesh, tree bark, curly hair, and crisp new leaves.

The seventeenth-century public was stunned by Bernini’s rendition of this story. Though Apollo’s love remained unrequited, Bernini’s sculpture won him the adoration of the Romans, who began to salute the twenty-something sculptor in the streets with the title of “maestro.”

Bernini's Apollo & Daphne in the Galleria Borghese, Rome