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October 2021

Michelangelo’s (pissed up) Bacchus

By Elevenses, Michelangelo Bacchus, Talking art

Gazing into the glazed eyes of Michelanagelo’s Bacchus in the Bargello in Florence a few years ago, a friend said to me that you kind of have to love him, even if he looks a bit dodgy. Unusually, I couldn’t quite agree. I was more with the poet Percy Shelley who wrote that the god of wine looks ‘drunken, brutal, and narrow-minded, and has an expression of dissoluteness the most revolting’. A virtuoso piece of sculpting though.

Bacchus Bargello Michelangelo

Michelangelo, Bacchus, 1496-7, Bargello, Florence

Michelangelo’s Bacchus can barely focus on his cup and he definitely looks as though he could sway off that marble podium at any time. His tummy is protruding, shoulders slumped, and whilst there is evidence of some firm musculature beneath that naked torso, his body appears softly rounded, and somewhat feminine.

His left hand loosely grips an animal pelt, quite probably that of a leopard as they traditionally pulled his chariot, and bunch of grapes that are being slyly nibbled by the little satyr sitting on the tree stump behind him. The pay-off is that Bacchus is practically leaning against the satyr for support. You can practically smell the wine on his breath and see the red stained lips and teeth.

At some point he also made the sartorial decision to adorn his head with vine leaves and little bunches of grapes which resemble curls. If you’ve read the Elevenses blog ‘The art of the Bacchanal’ you’ll know that ivy was more commonly used as Bacchus’s crown. It was supposed to act as a defence against drunkenness. Could have been helpful here?!

Standing a little over two metres high, he is in fact, the embodiment of drunkenness. I haven’t tried, but I imagine wobbliness is pretty bloody hard to achieve in marble.

Which begs the question: who commissioned this and did they actually want a pissed up Bacchus with a slightly sleezy air or something less challenging – after all Bacchus here is a nasty reminder of the effects of drink.

The first question is easy to answer. The consensus is that Michelangelo was commissioned by Cardinal Riario in Rome and began working on the statue in 1496.

The answer to the second question is less clear because we don’t have the paperwork detailing the commission. Regular payments were made but as far as all the evidence suggests, the statue was never actually delivered to the Cardinal but instead displayed in the sculpture garden of Riario’s banker and Michelangelo’s friend, Jacopo Galli.

One theory is that the drunkenness was a problem. This is way past the ruddy cheeked conviviality of many other depictions of Bacchus. Alcohol was the pathway to hell and so it was unseemly in the extreme to have a statue, albeit of the god of wine, that appeared to represent total inebriation, especially if you were a man of the cloth.

Or perhaps it wasn’t quite antique enough. The 16th century saw a lot of excavation and everyone was mad for the statues of classical antiquity.

Michelangelo Bacchus 1496

Michelangelo had just pulled off a magnificent stunt in which he created a marble cupid, roughed it up a bit, and allowed it to be passed off as a genuine antique. This is, in fact, how he met Cardinal Riario who bought the piece believing it to be antique. When he found out that it was merely a fabulous fake, he was initially furious but, once he had his money back, he recognised the extraordinary talent of Michelangelo and invited him to come to Rome. This is when he commissioned Bacchus.

It would definitely seem that Michelangelo was attempting a similar outcome with Bacchus as he did with Cupid (now lost). Word on the street was that the artist himself mutilated the statue to make it look more antique, knocking off the raised hand and cup and chiselling away the penis (ouch).

In this sketch by Marten van Heemskerck of Bacchus in Galli’s sculpture garden, dated to the 1530s, you can see that both are already missing. By the 1550s, however, the hand had returned, reattached by the artist using cement, but the penis was never in evidence.

van Heemskerck Bacchus

Drawing of Bacchus in the sculpture garden of Jacopo Galli by Maarten van Heemskerck, c. 1533–1536

Did it look antique? Some contemporary commentators definitely thought so, others weren’t sure. Perhaps the slightest doubt wasn’t good enough for either Michelangelo or Riario? Perhaps it just wasn’t the kind of antique Riario was looking for.

Finally, there’s the fact that it may have been considered too effeminate. The issue was that this led to suggestions of homosexuality. Which was forbidden. But rife. Michelangelo was probably gay. Nevertheless you couldn’t promote it in a statue in the late 15th century.

So drunk, not antique enough, too effeminate? All of the above? Who knows?

Michelangelo I imagine was somewhat upset at the time. But for us today, it’s testament to his daring and genius. Would I want Michelangelo’s Bacchus in my garden though? Definitely not.

And the big (or little) question is: where’s his penis?

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

Villa dei Misteri

By Elevenses, Talking art, Villa dei Misteri

Ah, the Villa dei Misteri or the Villa of Mysteries. What could be more exciting than a fresco series depicting Bacchic rituals involving a mystic marriage between a mortal woman and Bacchus?

If the frescos depict the ritual that actually took place, it was quite an event! But the frescos themselves are amazing. Created in the 1st century B.C., they are rare survivals of wall painting – Vesuvius saw to it that so much was destroyed but the ones that weren’t smashed to smithereens were brilliantly preserved by volcanic ash.

Villa dei Misteri

The first fresco shows a noble Roman woman entering the space just as we would. She’s demure and wearing a veil but I’m going to say that this is about to change because she’s the initiate about to go through the Bacchic ritual.

As she approaches the lady sitting on throne, perhaps a priestess, a young boy very studiously reads from a scroll. He seems to be being encouraged by the priestess – just look at the way she places her hand around the back of his neck; it’s really tender and very naturalistic. He’s probably reading the declaration of the initiation, and judging by the fact that she has more scroll in her hand, it’s quite long.

This part of the fresco feels very calm. This continues into the next two scenes.

villa dei misteri

Firstly we have a lady carrying a tray of something or other. No one is quite sure what – perhaps bread or cakes. She’s wearing a crown of myrtle which is associated with Aphrodite the goddess of love, and seems to be carrying some laurel which, in terms of a crown, would signify a triumph or victory but it was also used as seasoning so perhaps she’s the cook rather than a serving girl…

Alternatively she could be the initiate with an offering.

Whoever she is, she’s not engaging with the other figures in the fresco but is interacting with us.

Not so the next group of figures who are absorbed in a shared activity. Again, we aren’t exactly sure what they’re doing but given the girl on the right is pouring water on a purple robe that is being lifted very carefully by the seated women, and assisted by the woman on the right, it might be some kind of cleansing ritual. Whatever is happening, it’s clearly a delicate operation that involves cooperation between the women as the one on the left is looking pretty intently at the one on the right. Notice how the girl to the right is also wearing a myrtle crown.


As is the chap in the following image. In fact that’s all he’s wearing. The purple robe that is being dropped gives some continuity and he’s providing us with a sound track to the narrative as he plays the lyre, lost, I think in his own thoughts. Perhaps that’s how he hasn’t noticed that his robe has fallen off? He may very conceivably also be Silenus, Bacchus’s great friend and teacher; in which case he’s not lost in his own thoughts but completely wasted.

The musical accompaniment continues with a young man or perhaps a satyr playing the panpipes and another suckling goat. This is where it starts to get weird, and this woman knows it!

She’s just to the right of the goat-suckler but actually she’s looking across to the next wall and something is clearly really freaking her out.

Is this the initiate? Is it someone else? We don’t know for sure but we do know that she’d rather hot-foot it out of there. Notice the way that her body is turned in the opposite direction to her face as though she is about to run; it feels as though she might bound off that platform, which looks so real, and escape through the room. Her hand is held out as though to push back what she’s seeing and her face (and upper torso) is brilliantly framed by her billowing cloak which adds to the dynamism of this character. There’s a truly excellent use of light and shadow here which adds a brilliant sense of volume or three dimensionality to this figure; the hand is foreshortened, the way her face is painted brings a sense of her personality and psychology. It’s really accomplished.

OK! But what is it that she’s seen?

villa dei misteri

She appears to be looking over to the first group of figures on the back wall and perhaps in particular this pretty grim mask that one of the youths is holding up. This is a Silenus mask, used in Bacchic rituals. Silenus (again) proffers a drinking cup to his young friend, but notice how he’s possibly not drinking but looking into the bowl. Notice, too, how the mask lines up with his face so that he can see his reflection and the mask behind him. It reminds me of the gorgon at the bottom of the drinking cup that we saw in the Greek Symposium. This is what you become…

villa dei misteri

Then we come to the true protagonist in this fresco. A pissed up Bacchus. He’s in the centre of the back wall slouched on Ariadne’s lap, thyrsus propped against his chair; if he’s taking another ‘spiritual’ wife, he’s not going to remember much the next day but that’s how it was with these ceremonies. Remember the maenads? Well, this is what they went through!

It’s probable that the ladies to the right of Bacchus are preparing or unpacking a liknon basket. These were baskets that were used to separate grain from chaff but were also used as cradles and Bacchus was supposed to have been found in one by Silenus, hence they are associated with him. We can see the ubiquitous purple robe again; other things that may have been included in the basket were fruits, a wooden phallus and possibly a Silenus mask. That’s already being bandied about!

The idea is that these objects brought about an awakening and that the initiate would be ushered or perhaps more accurately ‘propelled’ into the retinue of Bacchus…

…which obviously involves a good whipping whilst your sisters comfort you, look on rather sternly or just dance around playing the symbols.

Again, the artist has bridged the corner brilliantly and I’m thinking that whipping is going to hurt by the way she’s pulling back the whip to get a really strong stroke in there.

Rather wonderfully, after this scene, there is a window. It might be fanciful to imagine that this is a metaphorical enlightenment – am I bringing in ideas from the Christian faith where they aren’t appropriate? Anyway, the window creates a gap and the final scene is much calmer again and really rather beautiful.

A cupid figure holds up a mirror to seated woman who is looking out at us whilst another woman, dressed in purple, is, interestingly looking down at the mirror. One of them is probably the initiate but which one? Is the other a new bride being prepared for the ritual to begin again?

So many questions.

What we do know is that these were created by a truly majestic artist and that this would be a place to go back to if you could time travel wearing an invisible cloak to witness some truly interesting scenes!

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.

The art of the Bacchanal

By Bacchanal, Elevenses, Talking art

The art of the Bacchanal? Yes, the spotlight for this week’s Elevenses is on Dionysus or Bacchus as the Roman’s called him.

If the Greeks were fond of the slightly obscure and nuanced story of Hephaestus and how wine facilitated a reconciliation between him and his mother (see last week’s post and video), the Romans were more straightforward.

One of their favourite depictions was the drinking contest between Bacchus and Hercules (or Dionysus and Heracles if you’re thinking Greek). Here they are on a very fancy 23-karat gold bowl which was part of an extraordinary 18th century find when a house in Rennes was demolished.

Rennes cup Bacchus and Hercules

Bacchus & Hercules (detail), Roman gold offering bowl, ca. 210 A.D. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

Bacchus is in the centre crowned with ivy (not vine leaves as is often mistakenly stated). Ivy was supposed to defend against drunkenness and at one point the berries were even thought to be a hangover cure (maybe because they’re poisonous and make you vomit?).

[The link between Bacchus and ivy, by the way, made its way over to England where old English Taverns would display ivy above their doors indicating the high quality of their drinks. I would say that self praise is no praise at all but it obviously worked so what do I know?]

But back to Bacchus. He carries a drinking horn in one hand and a staff or thyrsus in the other. The thyrsus usually has an acorn on top (as it does here) or sometimes it’s covered in grapes, vine leaves or ivy and is generally thought to symbolise fertility, hedonism, prosperity – all the good things in life! Speaking of all the good things  in life, everyone needs a panther ready to pull their chariot – there he is just below Bacchus, and what is life without good music? Nothing, I’d say so there’s an aulos player to the left, and a panpipe player on the right with a few maenads thrown in for good measure. Although Bacchus is in the centre, the other protagonist on this plate is the muscle man, Hercules, to the right. He’s still standing for now, but the way that he holds out his empty bowl to Bacchus suggests that everything might be about to go horribly wrong for him.

I might suggest that this image is the pair of them a few hours later. This is a pavement mosaic of the same scene, one of five that decorated a dining room in a 2nd century Roman villa. Dionysus is, dare I say it, possibly slightly unfocussed, but he’s finished his cup whilst Hercules, in an Herculean effort, is still downing his wine – remember that you had to drink the same amount at the same speed. Symposium rules applied to the gods, too.

I’m very glad to see that flute girl is back – unusually wearing  more clothes than the men. The older chap to the right is Silenus, Bacchus’s great friend and teacher. The child in the centre is Ampelus (a child personifying the vine) who looks, in fact, as though he is clapping Bacchus thus crowning him the victor, at least of this round. Who knows whether that’s the end or not???

Mosaic drinking competition between Hercules and Bacchus

Mosaic from Antioch, The drinking contest between Heracles and Dionysus, 2nd century A.D., Worcester Art Museum, Worcester

What we do know is that Bacchus is always going to be the winner because this is an allegorical victory of wine over physical strength. The Romans loved this story (albeit one that they possibly made up as it doesn’t feature in Greek art or literature) and used it, as these two examples show, in diverse mediums.

I suppose at the end of the day the Greek tale of Hephaestus actually tells a very similar story but at least they dressed it up a bit!

Now, speaking of dressing up, or down(!), there are some other figures who are often depicted with Bacchus and I want to end by talking about them.

Say hello to the maenads.

Maenad at Bacchanal

Dancing maenad, detail from a Paestan red-figure skyphos, ca. 330-320 B.C., British Museum, London

Here’s one who’s being very dramatic on the side of a drinking cup and I think the only thing holding her up is a thyrsus.

Who were maenads? Well, they were mortal women who were made mad in the service of Bacchus – maenad literally means madness or frenzy. Many stories suggest that this all happened against their will. Did it? I’ll tell you their duties and you can decide.

Most of their work focused around maintaining grape vines, harvesting grapes, and preparing wine.

Maenads tending grapes

Chiusi Painter, Attic black-figure cup depicting sileni and maenads collecting the harvest, late 6th century, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

But when the time came for a Bacchanal or a Dionysian cult ritual, the craziness was ramped up to the max. Think lots of drinking, energetic dancing to exhaustion, more drinking, stripping off and dancing naked, more drinking, orgies, more drinking – all to the point where you believe that you have been possessed by Dionysus himself.

Once possessed, you were connected to the divine because Dionysus was of course a god. So it was an unusual way to seek a religious experience perhaps, but were women forced into it?

Poussin Maenads Dancing

Nicolas Poussin, A Bacchanalian Revel before a Term, 1632-3, National Gallery, London

I have a feeling that the Maenads or Baccantes (generally considered a Roman word for Maenad) in Poussin’s work are fine. I feel we are at the start of proceedings here with a bit of light dancing in front of the statue or ‘term’ of Pan the god of the wild whose name also means ‘everything’ but came to be associated with lust. Forced into it? Not these ones…

P.S. What’s the difference between a nymph and a maenad? Nymphs weren’t mortal but mythological creatures who helped raise Dionysus and honoured him willingly and without getting falling-over pissed.

The video of this episode can be viewed here. To view the entire ‘Elevenses with Lynne’ archive, head to the Free Art Videos page.