This Painting Is Devastating

When this painting was exhibited at the Paris Salon of 1876, the critics were astonished. The work was praised for the way the artist had captured the emotion on Mary's face, for the technical mastery with which he painted each of the angels surrounding the scene, but none of them noticed a small detail hidden in the foreground. A Latin inscription almost concealed on the side of a golden jar, a small detail that the artist placed there deliberately and that changes the entire meaning of this painting. The work bears the title Pietà and it was painted by the French artist William Adolphe Bouguereau in the late 19th century. The term Pietà is not a biblical term as most people think, in fact no gospel describes Mary holding the body of Christ after the descent from the cross. The scene is, strictly speaking, an invention. The term originated in 14th century Germany, where artists of the time carved small wooden sculptures called Vesperbilder or what in English would be Vesper images. They were intimate pieces, intended for private devotion, in which a grief-stricken mother held in her lap a son rendered disproportionately small, almost as if he had become a child again. When that image reached Italy, it was transformed. In 1499, a 23-year-old sculptor named Michelangelo completed the version that would change this term forever. His Pietà in the Vatican, carved in white marble, showed a serene, remarkably young and resigned Mary, holding her dead son across her knees with a majesty that still today leaves speechless those who contemplate it. Nearly four centuries later, Bouguereau would take up that tradition In this painting, Mary occupies the absolute centre of the canvas. Unlike Michelangelo's sculpture, Bouguereau paints her seated, facing forward, looking out beyond the canvas. Her entire body is wrapped in a black cloak, and as we will see in a moment, every detail and every colour carries its own meaning. In Christian iconography, Mary is usually dressed in blue. Blue is her colour. The colour of the celestial mantle, of purity and of mediation. The fact that Bouguereau chose black for her dress brings her closer to the French widows of the 19th century than to the Queen of Heaven, and yet the artist does not strip her entirely of her divinity. Above her head and above the head of Christ, there are two golden ornate halos. Their texture recalls Byzantine icons and the altarpieces of the early Renaissance. In a way, Bouguereau tries to give the scene the greatest possible realism by painting Mary in black, like any other mother. But at the same time, he reminds us that we are standing before a sacred figure with that halo behind her head. A crucial aspect of the genius of this work lies in Mary's eyes. They are painted with such realism that we can see they are swollen and red. If we look closely enough, we can even see a few tears sliding down her cheek. And as I mentioned before, her gaze is not directed toward heaven in supplication, but rather toward us, the viewers. The body of Christ, on the other hand, is fully aligned with tradition. His arm falls with the same langur as in the Vatican Pietà, and his pale torso contrasts violently with the black of the cloak and with the saturated colours of the angels. Bouguereau paints him with an almost translucent pallor as if the blood had abandoned his body hours ago. And finally, we find the angels. There are eight of them, and they form a complete arc around the central scene. Some are weeping, some are looking at Christ, and others turn their eyes away as if they could not bear what they were seeing. And here is a surprising detail that you probably had not noticed. The eight angels were painted from only two models. Bouguereau repeats the faces, varies the postures and changes the gestures, but in reality, only two people posed for these eight angels. It is a compositional trick the painter used frequently, and one that some critics have interpreted as a commentary on the nature of the divine, a single presence that manifests itself in many forms. But the truly remarkable thing is their robes. If we put together the colours of each one of them, the angels form a rainbow. And that too is not decoration. In the Old Testament, when the waters of the flood receded, Noah came out of the ark and saw a rainbow in the sky. In the Bible, the rainbow symbolises the promise that after destruction, the world can begin again. And so Bouguereau places that rainbow above the body of Christ to say exactly the same thing, that after the most absolute pain, the possibility of rebirth still exists. Now, although we have analysed the painting almost in its entirety, one small detail remains. The detail I mentioned at the beginning of this video, the one that completely changes the interpretation of this painting. If we look toward the bottom of the canvas, we find, in the foreground, the crown of thorns resting on a white cloth stained with blood, and next to it, a golden jar and a bowl. The white cloth and the water represent the purity of Christ's soul, the blood and the thorns, his suffering. But the golden jar carries a Latin inscription that reads, In memory of my beloved son, George, on the 19th day of July in the year 1875. In the summer of 1875, William Adolphe Bouguereau was considered the most successful painter in France. His works often sold before they were even finished, and the Paris Salon welcomed him every year with honours. By then, he was 49 years old, with a wife named Nellie and five children. On the 19th of July of that year, his eldest son died. George was 16 years old, and his health had deteriorated throughout the summer, so Nellie had sent him away from the suffocating air of Paris to the home of some friends in the countryside, and there he died, far from his parents. Following this, Bouguereau fell into a deep depression. He spent months unable to paint, and when he finally returned to the canvas, it was to paint this scene dedicated to his son. We could say then that this painting, beyond being a purely religious image, also carries a deeply personal meaning. In it, Bouguereau portrayed himself in Mary, holding the body of her son, and Christ as his own son, George. The inscription on the jar leaves no doubt that he made this painting to convey the pain of his loss, but the cruelest part is that this would not be the only tragic story in his life. Bouguereau would lose four of his five children over the course of his lifetime. He would lose his wife Nellie in 1877 while giving birth to their fifth child, and he would lose the newborn just a few months later. The Pietà, in this sense, is not only the monument to a single loss. It was, sadly, the first chapter of a long series of catastrophic events that was only just beginning. Today, this painting is considered one of Bouguereau's most recognized works. Mary's gaze evokes a heartbreaking sensation in us as viewers. There are even those who confess to feeling guilty when their eyes meet the eyes of this mother who cannot accept the loss of her son. I would love for you to leave me a comment letting me know what feeling this painting evokes in you and whether you had seen it before. Before we finish, I want to remind you that if you would like to have this work in your collection, it is now available in our catalogue. In the link in the description, you can purchase a reproduction of this painting and explore more than 900 carefully selected artworks so you can pick your favorites and begin your own art collection. Shipping is free worldwide, and by purchasing, you will be supporting me enormously in continuing to create videos like this one. Thank you for making it to the end, and I will see you in the next video.