Cain and Abel

         My short story “Brothers” was just published in the November issue of Friends Journal (on-line), and to celebrate I’ve got a selection of relief block prints depicting the world’s first brothers.  My story begins with Cain and Abel, but the speculative fiction twist is that the two are repeatedly reincarnated through other sets of Biblical brothers.  If you want to read it, you can find it here.

        Meanwhile, just like in my story, I’m marching through the centuries chronologically in these repeated depictions of sibling rivalry turned murderous.  The first wood block print, hand colored, comes from a German Bible of 1483, and it includes the whole story in a single frame.  There are lots of really delightful details, including the swan swimming peacefully beside the conflict, and the heavenly ruffles amongst which God floats in the sky.  I’m amused by the way the flames of Abel’s acceptable sacrifice rise straight up while Cain’s flames flop over limply.  And why is he labelled “Caim”?

        Next I had to include Albrecht Dürer’s version from 1511, even though I don’t love it.  Abel is so contorted he looks like he’s about to be stuffed in a trunk.  This piece as well as the 1599 woodcut beside it focus on the lethal violence of the fight.  I think renaissance artists were particularly drawn to the fight scene as a way to practice their interesting perspectives and anatomically perfect musculature.  (Besides which, of course, violence always seems to be popular.)  If you look at a whole range of depictions of the scene, including many more than I’ve posted here today, you’ll notice that some artists show Abel cowering in passive innocence, while others show him fighting back more actively.  The choice makes for a very different vibe.

        There’s also a variety of murder weapons.  The Bible doesn’t specify how Cain actually killed his brother, so artists get to choose.  Today’s first artist has gone with what is presumably the jawbone of an ass, as inspired by Samson, a choice that many other artists also use.  Dürer has given Cain an ax, while the anonymous artist has provided a club.  Gustave Doré is another proponent of the club in his wood engraving from 1866.  I’ve included illustrations of two scenes from the story: the disparity in sacrifices as well as the murder.  Just like in our first image, Doré has depicted Cain's fire and smoke refusing to rise to heaven, as if Cain has attempted to freeze his sacrifice with dry ice.  The interesting thing about Doré’s second scene is that instead of focussing on the brute violence, it shows Cain staggered with horror as he realizes what he’s done.  To me this is much more powerful than the mere brawl.

        Moving into the twentieth century we see another radical shift in style, and with a scene of violence and passion Expressionism can be just as effective as realism.  Lovis Corinth’s woodcut from 1919 has a weapon like some sort of hammer made with a huge rock on the end of a stick.  Richard Bosman, meanwhile, keeps it simple with a hurled stone (1981).  And finally, James Lesesne Wells in 1990 shows no weapon at all.  While I think bare hands would certainly be a plausible choice, I confess that if I didn’t see the title of this piece I wouldn’t know it was necessarily even a fight going on in the foreground.  And is that meant to be a policeman hurrying over to break it up?

        Clearly this has been a story that artists have been drawn to through the years.  If you want to know my take on the tale, check out my short story.  What part of this ancient story is most meaningful or memorable for you?

[Pictures: Cain and Abel, woodcut colored by hand from Bible pub. Anton Koberger, 1483 (Image from Detroit Institute of Arts);

Cain Killing Abel, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, 1511 (Image from The Met);

Cain and Abel, woodcut from Wittenberg, 1599 (Image from Harvard Art Museums);

Cain and Abel, two wood engravings by Gustave Doré, 1866 (Images from Wikimedia Commons);

Brudermord, woodcut by Lovis Corinth, 1919 (Image from National Gallery of Art);

Cain and Abel, woodcut by Richard Bosman, 1981 (Image from RoGallery);

Cain and Able (sic), linocut by James Lesesne Wells, 1990 (Image from National Museum of African American History & Culture).]