The Greek myth of Persephone (Roman Proserpina) is one that many people have found resonant, but in a surprisingly broad range of ways. The story represents very different things to different people, and to different artists. When I went looking for one or two relief block prints to post with my poem about the Persephone myth, I found so many I thought I’d take a closer look.
Myths, like fairy tales, aren’t about individual people. They’re about symbols, and symbols don’t have emotions, except when the emotion is the point of the myth. Demeter’s grief at losing her daughter explains the barrenness of winter. But how does Persephone feel? Part of fantasy’s job is to explore these things. There are many possible ways the bare bones of the myth could be fleshed out into a story of experience, reflecting the complex realities of life as a human. (Persephone and the other characters in this myth aren’t exactly humans, of course, but as the Classical gods are pretty much just superpowered humans, and as all stories that humans tell are, really, about ourselves, I let my statement stand.)
So, was Persephone raped in our modern sense of the word? Kidnapped and sexually assaulted, and forced, then, to marry her rapist? Or was she thrilled at the adventure of running off with the tall dark and handsome Hades, escaping from the frankly smothering love of her powerful mother? Did she grow to love Hades gradually, like Beauty and her Beast? Did she, like me, find eternal summer boring and enjoy the rhythm of changing seasons, each with its own evocative beauties? What about Hades; did he merely lust after the nubile maiden, or perhaps just want a trophy wife to sit on the throne by his side, or did he really love Persephone? Was Persephone tricked into tasting those pomegranate seeds, or was it freely chosen, an acknowledgement that life with Hades was something she was willing to take on, or perhaps even wanted?
Traditional depictions of “the Rape of Persephone” tend to emphasize the violence of the kidnapping, and the titillation of Persephone’s beauty, which highlights the somewhat disturbing fascination that artists (and/or their patrons) have with that unholy combination of sex and violence. The first piece above, by Guiseppe Scolari around 1600, is of that type, although his version is unusual in failing to focus on Persephone’s nudity as most other artists seem to do. Scolari seems to have had much more interest in the cleft from hell opening in the earth and venting infernal fumes. That was probably a more interesting challenge than just another naked chick.
In ancient Greece Persephone was always paired with Demeter as a goddess of spring, flowers, and fertility, or paired with Hades as the queen of the underworld. These two pieces by Cynthia Cratsley reproduce the traditional iconography, and the scene with Hades is directly based on a votive tablet found at an altar dedicated to Persephone.
Another popular theme for artists is Persephone as a lovely maiden gathering flowers. Presumably this is simply because lovely maidens and pretty landscapes are always a sure bet in art, and calling it “Persephone” adds Culture by way of an excuse. Sometimes this version of Persephone is shown looking pensive, as a reference to her coming sorrow. I’ve included a sampling of these, in different styles and different printmaking techniques.
Finally I get to some of the more unique interpretations. I’ve included Georges Braque’s version because he’s famous and all, but really, I have absolutely no idea what we’re supposed to be looking at here! And while we’re feeling cryptic, here’s another piece inspired by Persephone’s story, without being too literal. The artist Steve Goodwin says this is about “the experience of being split between two worlds, pulled apart in two opposite direction, never fully dwelling in one place.”
Mina Mond’s Persephone is also split between two worlds, Hades’s hands clutching after her as she rises from Hell into a world of sunshine… and growing pomegranates.
Persephone’s beauty is always emphasized, and here is a beautiful dress for her, a verdant springtime tangle of plants and flowers and birds… and pomegranates.
Demeter is beautiful, too, but Persephone’s beauty is that youthful, springtime loveliness that all fashionable women desire — and it can be yours with Le véritable corset Persephone, rendering the sveltest Parisiennes even svelter!
So many things to so many people… What does the myth of Persephone mean to you?
[Pictures: Rape of Persephone, wood block print by Guiseppe Scolari, 1590-1607 (Image from The Met);
Demeter and Persephone, and Persephone and Hades Enthroned, linocuts by Cynthia Cratsley (Images from the artist’s Etsy shop CynthiaRaeCratsley);
Persephone, etching(?) by Roberto Rascovich from The Myth of Demeter and Persephone, c 1903 (Image from Smithsonian American Art Museum);
Proserpina, woodcut by Eric Ravilious, 1928 (Image from MutualArt);
Persephone, paper relief by Lila Oliver Asher, before 1972 (Image from Smithsonian American Art Museum);
Persephone, woodcut by Georges Braque, 1948 (Image from MutualArt);
Persephone, linocut print by Steve Goodwin (Image from the artists’s Etsy shop rememberinggreen);
Persephone, woodcut in three colors by Mina Mond (Image from the artist’s shop Mina Mond Prints/DUO DESORDRE);
Persephone, woodcut by Ouida Touchön (Image from the artist’s shop Ouida Touchön Portfolio);
Le Véritable Corset Persephone, advertisement from 1911 (Image from Mary Evans Picture Library).]
There’s no doubt that the myth has been interpreted in many different ways in fiction and verse. And there is a short story I’ve read - wish I could remember the author, but someone well known - in which Demeter has stopped by a palace somewhere during her search, and the young narrator wishes wistfully that her own mother, a royal concubine, cared as much about her. Evangeline Walton did a novel about Theseus and Hippolyta which had a scene in which the women re-enact the abduction of Persephone, using their voices as the sounds of the chariot wheels. Thing is, it’s a human sacrifice - the girls who are supposed to be Persephone and her maidens have no idea which of them will be killed. Scary!
ReplyDeleteThat pomegranate! Dear me! I do love them, very uncomfortable to think of it as a symbol of death, especially when it’s also a symbol of fertility.
Sue, you're right, I didn't even get into the whole sacrificial aspect: something must die in order for there to be life. Very scary, indeed. I haven't read either of the stories you mention, but they definitely widen the field of interpretation even more. As for pomegranates... my daughter LOVES them. If Hades ever kidnapped her, she'd happily eat the whole pomegranate and spend all year with him and I'd never get her back. No more spring!
ReplyDelete