Water Graves - Eurydice

Eurydice
Water Graves 
Reflections on the Illusions of Drowning in Art
Curated by Taylor Schwartz

Eurydice, Valerie Morignat, 2009
“So Orpheus then received his wife; and Pluto told him he might now ascend from these Avernian vales up to the light, with his Eurydice; but, if he turned his eyes to look at her, the gift of her delivery would be lost. They picked their way in silence up a steep and gloomy path of darkness. There remained but little more to climb till they would touch earth's surface, when in fear he might again lose her, and anxious for another look at her, he turned his eyes so he could gaze upon her. Instantly she slipped away. He stretched out to her his despairing arms, eager to rescue her, or feel her form, but could hold nothing save the yielding air.” Metamorphoses, Ovid
Perhaps the most tragic of Ovid’s myth, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice encapsulates the strength, devotion, and misfortune of young love. Determined to resurrect Eurydice from Hades, Orpheus played his most cathartic music to gain access to the underworld. Even the bloodless ghosts themselves wept. He was allowed to take his wife from the underworld under one condition—he could not turn around to look at her. Inevitably he did, and she died a second death.

In Valerie Morignat’s photograph, water is the medium by which Eurydice reenters Hades. The disturbed surface of the water shows that the photograph has captured Eurydice mere moments after Orpheus looked back. Morignat interprets the young bride’s second death as a drowning. Not only does the water engulf Eurydice’s body, but it also consumes any memory Orpheus had of his bride. In stage productions that include the retelling of this myth, such as Mary Zimmerman’s Metamorphoses and Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice, on-stage water is used as a symbol of forgetfulness. In both productions, Orpheus is doused in water as memories of his beloved Eurydice gradually wash away—a baptism. In essence, this is what Morignat captures in her photograph. Orpheus, unseen, reaches for Eurydice as she sinks deeper and deeper into the water, her reflective porcelain flesh the only visible semblance of her existence.
 
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Nightmare and Eurydice

Eurydice

Henry Fuseli, Nightmare, 1781
“Eurydice!

Before I go down there, I won’t practice my music. Some say practice. But practice is a word invented by cowards. The animals don’t have a word for practice. A gazelle does not run for practice. He runs because he is scared or he is hungry. A bird doesn’t sing for practice. She sings because she’s happy or sad. So I say: store it up. The music sounds better in my head than it does in the world. When songs are pressing against my throat, then, only then, I will go down and sing for the devils and they will cry through their parched throats.

Eurydice, Don’t kiss a dead man. Their lips look red and tempting but put your tongue in their mouths and it tastes like oatmeal. I know how much you hate oatmeal.

I’m going the way of death.

Here is my plan: Tonight, when I go to bed, I will turn off the light and put a straw in my mouth. When I fall asleep, I will crawl through the straw and my breath will push me like a great wind into the darkness and I will sing your name and I will arrive. I have consulted all the almanacs, the footstools, and the architects, and everyone agrees: I found the right note. Wait for me.

Love,
Orpheus”    -- Scene 17, Eurydice, by Sara Ruhl

When confronted by Henry Fuseli’s Nightmare, one cannot help but feel a sense of unease, if not from the awkward proportions, then surely the strangeness of the subject and their eyes. Although love does not come to mind when staring into this painting, it brought me to a scene from Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice. At a glance, the two works seem to be completely different. Yet allowing my mind to wonder, I imagine Orpheus, driven mad from Eurydice’s death, ponder on how to regain his lover. The king of the underworld in this case would be the horse, luring him in.

The painting allowed me to imagine, in a peculiar way, this emotional tragedy. In Orpheus’s letter to Eurydice, he compares his actions to animals, acknowledging that he lives as an animal they way they do. That his actions originate from necessity as animals do to.

The king of the underworld, the horse in the painting, wants both Orpheus and Eurydice to die so that he could have their souls. He enters their lives and leads Eurydice to death with temptation. He then uses her to lure Orpheus.

Fuseli's Nightmare fully encompasses the dark emotions that pertain to the play. An odd couple, they complement each other nicely.

  • 12:00 AM