The Paintings That Didn’t Make It (And The One That Did)

So the Mallorys have a fancy new (to them) house in London, with a painting gallery that has no paintings. In the latest chapter they take a step toward fixing that, which means I got to do a small dive into art that would have been current in 1887 that also has some connection to the themes of the book. Only one painting could make it into the chapter, but the rest deserve a little love too.

Ladies and gentlemen, let’s meet our contestants.

Moreau - The Apparition (1877)

The Apparition by Gustav Moreau is definitely the creepiest of the candidates, with a vision of John the Baptist’s severed head appearing to Salome as she danced before Herod.

Moreau painted a bunch of versions of this, and did even more sketches. While the most famous of them is a watercolor, the one below is an oil painting. I prefer it for the vibrant colors, and probably also its extra emphasis on the sexy Salome figure.

The horror-tinged sensuality of this painting makes for a nice connection to my book, and even her costume shares elements with things coming in future chapters. But my book is more about sex than death, and the bloody severed head in this painting is just a bit too grisly for my tone.

Rosetti - Astarte Syriaca (1877)

I’ll admit that the biggest attraction of Astarte Syriaca for me was the name. Astarte is the Semitic cousin of Inanna and Ishtar, whose stories I am using heavily for my world building.

It was only later that I learned that the model for this painting, Jane Morris, was famous in her own right as a leader of the Arts and Crafts movement.

But the visuals didn’t grab me quite enough for this one to win. Also, once you notice that her arms are incredibly swole in comparison to her tiny head, you can’t unsee it.

Gérôme - Cleopatra and Caesar (1866)

Jean-Léon Gérôme’s Cleopatra and Caesar has a lot of things going for it. She’s sexy. She just got unrolled from the carpet that she was smuggled in. There’s already a Cleopatra theme in my book (though with Antony her counterpart rather than Caesar). And if you get real close, it looks like there might just be a raised cobra ornament on her forehead. This was a close one.

Leighton - Flaming June (1895)

The next three are all from the same artist, Frederic Leighton.

Here’s a fun timeline:

• Jan 24 1896: Frederic Leighton is created Baron Leighton of Stretton, the first ever artist to be awarded that honor. It’s a hereditary barony (will pass to his heir when he dies).

• Jan 25 1896: Sir Frederic Leighton dies of a heart attack, childless.

In case you’re bad at math, that was ONE DAY LATER. His barony expired with him, making it the shortest lived title in English history.

Leighton’s most famous painting is Flaming June, below. It’s not even particularly connected to my story, but my god look at that color. Look how the orange gauze drapes over her left foot, reflecting the bright light from some angles and revealing her leg through the translucent fabric from others. Absolute master.

The ultimate disqualifier for Flaming June was its date. When my scene takes place, Leighton won’t have painted this for another eight years.

Leighton - Light of the Harem (1880)

Victorians loved the contrast of innocence and sensuality, though the representation of it in Leighton’s Light of the Harem is far more tasteful than the outright smut of the day (like The Pearl).

The connections here are strong. In my story, Cora reminisces about being a little girl and admiring her mother’s beauty, while rueing the fact that she would never look the same (given that her father is a towheaded Englishman).

Notice another thing about this painting, and all the ones above: the women’s breasts are not huge. Voluptuousness may have been sexy, but it was not high class. (Another thing that Cora is insecure about.)

This one very nearly won. Nearly. Its glamour is irresistible.

Leighton - The Fisherman and the Syren (1858)

And here we have our winner. Again, it’s Leighton, though The Fisherman and the Syren has a bit less attention to detail than Flaming June or Light of the Harem.

It makes up for it in brazen sensuality and strong correlations to my story. Her embrace is simultaneously that of a lover and a predator. It could go either way, or both. He could be Samuel. He could be William. She could be Lethetani. She could be Cora. She might not even know the danger she poses to him. At least, the picture lets you think so.

The history behind it does not. Apparently the painting depicts these lines from a Goethe poem:

Half drew she him,
Half sunk he in,
And never more was seen.

And now it’s hanging in the gallery of Mallory House.