Goya: Man and Myth
Every society has its myths, stories that explain the time-honored order of things. Humankind does what it does now because of ancient prototypes. As Man does, so did the gods. But what of a society in a state of turmoil? What of a man whose very life is filled with questions? Saturn devours his children, subverts the natural order of the universe. With brutal forthrightness, Goya used an ancient myth to capture the questions of his times and of his life. Humanity is but the plaything of a capricious fate, a helpless doll in the hands of a wild-eyed giant. Yet not only the subject of the painting, but even the manner in which it is painted speak to the horrors of Goya's age and to the hidden darkness of his own mind. Quick brush strokes, sketchy outlines, colors merging into shadow, all comprise the anguished cry of a man lost in a world without easy answers, a world where nothing is black and white, where the line between dream and nightmare is hopelessly blurred.
Francisco Jose de Goya y Lucientes was born in a small village in the bleak Spanish province of Aragon in the year 1746. Blue skies and golden sun, brown earth and sun-parched stone -- such were the colors of the Spanish landscape. The Spain into which Goya was born was a land of religion and despotism, a place where ancient pride and past glory gave meaning and substance to a state in decline, to a people increasingly cut off from the mainstream of European thought and culture. Goya's family was of the Hidalgo class; petty noblemen who had no more than a name, and so were forced to make their own way in the world. (Buchholz p.8) Thus for Goya the painter,...
His early works were religious subjects and capricci for the royal palaces. Observing the canvases of Tiepolo and Mengs, he imbibed the two streams of mid-eighteenth century art -- the Rococo and the Classical. Buoyant theater and studied reason, the two masters' works encompassed the full range of the Spanish experience. For in his lifetime, Goya would witness the crumbling of the world he knew. Enlightenment would break through Spain's medieval night, and deafness would bring to Goya, the gregarious man, a time of dark self-examination. The lightness of his early works would give way to representations of the nightmare world both within himself and outside.
Saturn Devouring His Children is an image of great power. The gigantic figure of the ancient god rears up out of the darkness clutching the headless and bloody figure of one of his children. The child's arm, the white of the flesh, and the red of the blood, merge with the monster's tongue. There is no clear distinction of form. The same is true of Saturn's briskly painted hair. It falls like a mane over his body, disappearing into the darkness of his chest. Somewhere in that darkness lies buried his heart, but Saturn has no heart. He has no compassion. "The god [is] a fear-crazed old man, acting out of a blind instinct for self-preservation." (Gowing et al. p.753) Goya applies the effects of light and shadow to draw us toward the creature's eyes -- hideous, staring ovals of light, the dark pupils rough-edged and crudely delineated. Reason is replaced by passion, order by chaos. In the commission of this "inhuman" act Saturn is like the King of…
