My Kid Could Paint That

Antonio Canova, Detail of Venus Victrix, 1505-1508

Detail of Venus Victrix

The work, life size, stuns with its smooth lines, unbelievable detail and charged sensuality.

Her back bows gently, the drapery folds are extraordinary.

And her head seems to me among the most beautiful I can think of in sculpture. She’s as stunning as she is strong. No-nonsense Venus, the “that’s right I’ve won and I shall wear what I want” Venus.
Pauline, of course, loved the sculpture, for it captured her at the height of her allure and beauty. Camillo was appalled, and quickly had taken to Turin where Pierson Dixson tells us, “it was rarely allowed to be seen.” For her part, though, Pauline reveled in the scandal. She told those that asked about posing nude for the sculptor that “Oh, Canova is not a real man,” or else, “Every veil must fall before Canova.” If she was feeling particularly impish, she would claim, “There was a good fire in the room, so I didn’t take cold.”

Now shall we take cold either, since we have built a small fire in the room with these two subversive women and the stories behind their art.

Antonio Canova, Venus Victrix, 1505-1508

By MARK LUCE

There was another woman who cut a swath through Europe. She was outspoken, vain, and once told her first husband she would come back to Paris only if he gave her “100,000 francs.” She was also a serial philanderer, taking men as quickly as Napoleon took territories. After the death of her first husband, and about the time her older brother Napoleon was taking over France, Pauline Bonaparte married Camillo Borghese, a powerful Roman noble who could help Napoleon further his reach.

Only the headstrong Pauline grew to dislike what she saw as the restrictive conventions of life as a Roman princess. So she did what she did best. She acted out, making Roman jaws drop with her promiscuity, bad-mouthing her sister-in-law Josephine, quarreling with her mother-in-law and spending money, oh so much money on the latest fashions. She quickly grew estranged from Camillo, who seemed uninterested in Pauline in any way, and they lived apart from one another. Even Napoleon, her own brother, said this, “Tell her from me she is no longer beautiful, and she will be still less so in a few years, it is important to be good and esteemed.”

In the midst of this social maelstrom, she did what any self-centered, gorgeous but aging Princess would do. She decided to stay beautiful forever by commissioning the greatest living sculptor to portray her as a life-size Venus… nude and reclining. And she got her husband to pay for it.

Antonio Canova can be considered the greatest sculptor since Bernini, his works certainly define the neoclassical style that dominates the late 18th and early 19th century. [A small aside – Barstow graduate Elyse Nelson, 2005 – is currently working on a PhD at New York University in Art History. Her dissertation is on Canova.] He had commissions upon commissions, and tried to tell Pauline that he was too busy. However, to hear Pauline’s attendant tell it, Canova was so struck by Pauline’s beauty, he started within a month. However, when Canova hinted that Pauline should be portrayed as Diana, the virgin huntress, Pauline retorted “Nobody would believe in my chastity.”

A quick myth break – grumpy goddess of strife and discord and all things chaotic Eris was miffed that she didn’t get an invite to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis (their son is Achilles). Instead of playing nice, Eris crashed the wedding and tossed out a golden apple that said “The Fairest,” or something to that effect. Venus, Juno and Diana all laid claim on the fruit. They wanted Zeus to judge who was the fairest. Zeus, for once, refused to interfere and appointed Paris, a mere mortal, as the judge. He deemed Venus the hottest, thus she got the apple.

Editor's Note: This week's posts are an adaptation of a lecture given in January. Enjoy.