Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the famed Italian
Baroque sculptor of the 17th century, lived and worked by a bold motto. Bernini
was a great sculptor, with The Rape of Proserpina among his most prized works.
He also designed St. Peter's Basilica (one of Italy's most famous buildings).
While the papacy largely supported the
turbulent artist's work, he interpreted religious subject matter with not only
extraordinary skill but also radical artistic freedom.
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wjarek/Shutterstock
This marble sculpture, created in the
early 17th century, exemplifies some of Bernini's strengths notably his grasp
of anatomy and ability to conjure both dynamism and drama. While the sculptor's
skills are still lauded today, the work's distasteful subject matter has placed
a cloud over it—although it is a defining highlight of both the Baroque era and
marble sculpture in general.
The Rape of Proserpina by Bernini
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irisphoto1/Shutterstock
Between 1621 and 1622, Bernini finished
The Rape of Prosperina. Though he was just 23 years old at the time the
Naples-born artist was already achieving recognition as a rising artist. While
he would take almost 40 years to construct his architectural masterwork, St.
Peter's Basilica he had already established himself as a recognized sculptor in
the early 1620s with four masterpieces: David; Aeneas, Anchises, and Ascanius;
Apollo and Daphne; and, of course, The Rape of Proserpina.
The sculpture, which stands over 7.5 feet
tall is carved from Carrara marble, a Tuscany-based stone that was once
utilized by ancient Roman architects and, more recently, by Mannerist and
Renaissance painters. Bernini "prided himself on being able to give marble
the look of flesh" because of the suppleness of this high-quality marble.
Photo: Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0
The Rape of Proserpina, a sculpture
designed to depict a dramatic abduction (the term "rape" refers to
the act of kidnapping in this context), exemplifies this fascination in
changing a stone into the skin. Bernini's attention to detail and concern for
realism is obvious in the work's anatomical features which were "pushed to
the point of touching the physical boundaries of marble." The grabbing
fingers of Pluto's (the sculpture's male subject) hand appear to dig into
Proserpina's (the female figure's) presumably soft flesh as he holds her thigh.
Similarly, his bowed knees and stiff arms protrude as he tries to overwhelm
her, yet her flowing hair and twisting draperies imply mobility.
Cardinal Scipione Borghese, an
enthusiastic art collector and ardent supporter of both Bernini and fellow
Baroque artist Caravaggio commissioned The Rape of Proserpina, as he did many
of Bernini's earlier works. People remained interested in resurrecting a
Classical approach to painting after the High Renaissance including topics
influenced by Ancient Greek and Roman mythology.
The Myth of Pluto and Proserpina
Alessandro
Allori, “The Abduction of Proserpine,” 1570 (Photo: Wikimedia Commons Public Domain)
This work depicts a scene from the myth
of Pluto and Proserpina (also known as Proserpine), which appears in both
Ovid's Metamorphoses and Claudian's De raptu Proserpinae, published 400 years
later.
Proserpina, the daughter of Jupiter (Zeus
in Greek mythology), and Ceres, the Roman goddess of agriculture are kidnapped
in this fable. Proserpina was assaulted while collecting flowers by an
enthralled Pluto, the god of the dead, who sprang from the soil in a chariot
drawn by four black horses. Ceres heard her daughter scream as she was taken
down into the underworld, but she was too late.
Nevertheless, "once she knew Pluto
had kidnapped Proserpine," The Getty adds "she grew enraged and
caused the soil to dry up and the harvests to fail. The world was desolate and
lifeless, Jupiter saw from the skies. He intervened and a bargain was struck:
Proserpine would spend half the year with her mother and the other half with
Pluto in the underworld.”
Contemporary
Interpretations and Legacy
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wjarek/Shutterstock
Given the tragic nature of the event,
it's no wonder that Bernini's sculpture has sparked controversy through the
decades. Bernini's depiction of such an unsavory scenario received widespread
acclaim soon after its completion (the artist's son and biographer described it
as "an astonishing combination of tenderness and brutality"), but
applauding an image portraying a violent kidnapping might be problematic in
today's setting.
Thomas Campbell, the director of San
Francisco's Fine Arts Museums recently lauded the piece's "compelling,
hypnotizing, even uplifting" aspects. he continued, “I am now having
issues to recalibrate my opinions on this work because a subject that I used to
perceive almost as an academic premise for virtuoso statue scenes are, after
all, prevalent in reformation and baroque art—seems much less academic two
years after the start of the 'Me Too' movement.”
Today debates over potentially
problematic pieces of art—and even artists—are front and center. However,
contextualizing the subject matter via both a classical and modern lens helps
us to appreciate the craftsmanship while staying critical of what is shown in
The Rape of Proserpina.
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