Tag Archives: Despair

Tales of Despair: Garden of Hell

Some time ago, I wrote about discovering Pieter Bruegel’s The Triumph of Death; a vast, melancholic landscape of horror, with the dead come back to drag the living down to hell. He portrays a hopelessness in death – there is no escape: peasant and king, saints and sinners, all succumb.

As I learned about Bruegel‘s fascination with hell, it brought my attention to the one who significantly influenced his style and subject matter: Hieronymus Bosch. From an earlier generation (Hieronymus died around 1516; Pieter wasn’t born until 1525), he was born and raised in the Netherlands to a family of artists: his father and four uncles were all painters, as their father had been also. In this early stage of the European Renaissance, the Netherlands appeared to be more tolerant of the representation of death, demons and hell – with their frankly grotesque, disturbing and often mind-bending caricatures of men and devils, it is easy to imagine his work denounced as heresy, or worse, the influence of the devil himself.

Though there is no reason to believe his childhood was less than ideal, a great fire in his home town when he was but a boy laid waste to thousands of homes. One can only imagine the terror and devastation of a fifteenth-century village, flames spreading from roof to roof, as men valiantly throw water from buckets onto the ever-blackening homes. Caught in the living hell, thousands must have perished, screaming and burned alive. And when all was over, the horror of stepping through the smoldering ruins, blackened and charred bones lying side by side with the beams of houses. From this, it is suddenly easier to imagine the influence for his work.

One of his best-known works today is the seminal Garden of Earthly Delights (doom metal band Cathedral pay wonderful homage on their album, The Garden of Unearthly Delights). It is a monumental piece, a staggering seven feet high and thirteen feet across, oil painted on wood, with hinges that allow it to be folded closed. Thus separated into three parts, Hieronymus dedicated each third to depicting a stage of mankind’s journey from conception to corruption to death. The left-most panel – the simplest, in terms of content – is dedicated to the garden of Eden, replete with newly-made animals, luscious lakes and fields, and azure mountains in the far distance. Orchards and palm trees sway (did they have palm trees in the Netherlands?), and in the foreground, Adam sits, watching as God presents Eve to him, new and pure and virgin.

Adam, Eve and God in Eden.

Even here, the surreal nature of his work can be seen; while some animals are recognizable, others appear as odd or deformed creatures, including three-headed lizards, deformed snakes, and some creatures that are beyond recognition.

Bizarre and distorted creatures, even here in Eden.

The central panel, twice the width of the side panels, is given over to – perhaps – paradise. It is a busy scene, with nude folk cavorting endlessly far into the distance. Here already, the scene is already becoming unsettling; though at first it appears that the beauty of Eden has grown to accommodate the growth of man, there are signs that not all is well.

The central pane – the defiling of paradise.

Not a man or woman can be seen toiling or working, and in their play, there show the signs of corruption, sin and vice. On the left of this panel there are depictions of good; in the far distance, groups of people can be seen entering upon paradise, among the unadulterated animals we know so well. A couple sit side-by-side on a giant pink sculpture, and a man even flies high above the world on the back of a griffin, holding aloft a branch of peace.

The sinless entering paradise – soon to be corrupted.

Yet as we move along, things begin to run afoul; men have begun to abuse their power over the beasts, riding them for their own pleasures. At the same time, their very pleasures become more bestial, as the eat from the beaks of birds, and appear even to seek congress with fish.

Um…is that what it looks like?

And of course, in the far right the ultimate symbol of sin: man taking the forbidden fruit.

The final, ultimate sin.

And so we enter the depths of hell, and it is here where Hieronymus’ true talent – and most bizarre and terrifying imaginations – is revealed. From severed feet to living consumption to grotesque violations, every detail is intended to shock and horrify.

Horror in the bowels of hell – all are equal in torment.

In one corner, a man makes love to a pig, while behind him misers defecate money into a cesspit in which further sinners can be seen drowning. Beside them, a hideous demon gropes an unconscious woman, while a donkey looks on.

Lust and avarice – tortured by their sins.

Elsewhere, musicians are impaled upon their own instruments, and tormented by the demonic music now passing through their ears.

Even the musicians are not spared.

In the center of the panel, a bisected giant forms the setting for the damnation of gluttons and soldiers alike; men are led into a fiery cavern to feast upon embers and ash, below whom tortured souls drown below the frozen waters. To their right, demons impale, imprison and feast upon soldiers – those who would kill for glory.

The fates of gluttons and killers.

But it is at the top of this panel, in the darkest and most frightening place imaginable, that the true despair of hell is shown. Lost in dark fog and shadows, the fires of hell burn high, and men are whipped, burned and massacred. Torn limb from limb, they are thrown into rivers or cast into flames, and always new sinners fall from the world above.

The distant and terrifying depths of hell.

Most heartbreaking and tormented, though, of all this, is a tiny detail at the absolute height of hell: behind the terrible black cliffs, the light of salvation glows – forever unattainable. Despite this, a single, solitary man braves the flames and the heights, desperately seeking redemption. And above him, an angel plummets from heaven.

Unattainable salvation.

Tales of Despair: Cup of My Blood

In a dark, cold apartment, two young men stare at the small box in front of them. One, at least, is clearly very afraid. The box must never be opened, one says. We must, the other replies. And so they do.

Moments later, a man and a woman burst in. One man is found in a closet – burned to ash. The other, cowering in the bath. The woman takes the box, and in cold blood kills him.

Jack Fender used to be a renowned photographer, famous for his stark black and white style, and the subtle eroticism of his work. Used to. Three years ago, his wife – his soulmate and his muse – committed suicide. Now he shoots soft porn. Locked off and dead to the world, Jack wanders around in a haze, filled with the dark visions of his wife’s final moments. Then one day, nearly run down in the street, he witnesses the fatal car crash of the woman who took the box. With her dying breath, she bids him to take it, and never to look upon it. And he does.

Jack locks the box away; turns back to his empty life. Continues to pile the cash from his porn shoots on a shelf, never spending a dime. His previous life made sure he doesn’t need to. He puts the box out of his mind – until dark and disturbing visions begin to appear before him. Those around him – the few he interacts with, that pretend to care about him – are certain he’s going insane.

And then – emptying his mind late one night at the pool – he meets Iona. And she listens to him. She speaks to him. And finally, she breaks through to him. They become close, and they begin to love…and after so long, his muse returns. Slowly, his creativity returns, and he begins to feel that he might finally be able to leave the demons behind him.

Janina Gavankar as Iona.

Little does he know that the demons are, in fact, yet to come, lying in wait. As the darkness closes in around him, he begins to realize that Iona may not be all she seems – and the powers of evil are intent on the contents of the box. As everything he knows comes crashing down, he discovers the box holds an ancient and unimaginably powerful relic: the holy grail. And the terrible visions that continue to fill his mind hold an even darker secret from his past.

Cup of My Blood is not a great movie. Mediocrely acted, poorly color-graded and uncomfortably scripted, it is a low-budget B-movie in every possible sense of the word. Yet the editing is strong, and it manages nonetheless to be both visually striking and stylistically unsettling. It is graphic, violent and disturbing, mysterious and frightening, and ultimately charts an artist’s descent into madness in the face of unspeakable horror. Had it had a bigger budget and better actors, it could have been a significant film. As it stands, it’s a visceral depiction of sex and death, haunted by despair.

Some of you may find this film disturbing or upsetting; some of you may simply laugh at it. Either way, approach it with caution: it isn’t as simple as it appears.

Tales of Despair: Pélleas et Mélisande

Love incites bitterness; revenge leads to death, and the world descends into madness. From the chaos is birthed the new, the pure, and the harmonious. And so the cycle continues.

La Mort du Fossoyeur – Carlos Schwabe

The symbolists of the late nineteenth century were consumed with the goal of depicting the world not in itself, but as a representation of a deeper meaning, of dreams and ideals; life, and love, and death. In painting, angels, demons and death abounded, uniting love, death and despair. A beautiful example of this is Carlos Schwabe‘s La Mort du Fossoyeur (The Death of the Gravedigger). An angel – not white, but dark – looks upon the old man, deep within the grave he has dug for himself. The world is cold and frozen, blanketed in pure snow, and as the angel’s wings curl around the man, ready to bear him hence, she lights a green flame in the palm of her hand, the unearthly glow lighting her face. The angel is death, and transformation; the man is of the weary and aging world, longing to be taken from his agony.

It was against this symbolic background that Maurice Maeterlinck wrote the tragic play Pélleas et Mélisande – a tale of darkness and doomed love. Goulaud, a prince of Allemonde, discovers a young girl by a stream in the woods, lost and afraid, with no memory of who she is, but for her name: Mélisande. Goulaud falls in love with the girl, and they are soon wed in secret. Despite his fear that his grandfather, named Arkël and ailing king of Allemonde, would not approve, word eventually reaches him via Pélleas, who is Goulaud’s brother. Arkël would have his grandson return home nonetheless, and is smitten by the beautiful girl, and gives the couple his blessing.

Soon, though, Mélisande discovers a deep love for Pélleas, and the two begin to spend ever more time with each other. Deep in the woods, Mélisande loses her wedding ring in a well; fearful to tell Goulaud the truth, she tells him it was lost in a dark grotto. He bids her retrieve the ring, and again Pélleas accompanies her, providing her comfort in the terrifying darkness.

Growing ever suspicious, Goulaud brings a warning upon his brother: deep under the castle, he leads him to a great chasm, and darkly tells him to beware: Mélisande is with child, and is not to be his.

Pélleas kisses Mélisande’s beautiful tresses (courtesy of Ken Howard and Metropolitan Opera)

Yet Pélleas and Mélisande cannot deny their love, and in a desperate attempt to save her, Pélleas tells her he must leave, lest they bring Goulaud’s wrath upon them. But even as he departs, Goulaud confronts Mélisande, and in his anger, casts her violently to the ground. In tears, she flees in search of Pélleas, determined to be with him one last time. Once more deep within the woods, they meet and embrace in love – unaware that Goulaud had followed her. Descending upon them in fury, Goulaud runs through his own brother, and in casting him lifeless to the ground, deeply wounds his own bride.

Growing now ever weaker, Mélisande gives birth prematurely to a daughter; upon seeing her face, she bids the nurse to take her away from her, as she is nothing but tragedy to her. And so, in tears, she dies also.

Throughout the play, the story is rife with symbolism. In flirting with Pélleas, Mélisande loses her wedding ring – an symbol of the infidelity to come. The strength of women is also implicit in the grief their loss wreaks upon their men. Arkël, king of Allemonde, has lost his own wife; Goulaud is a widower when he discovers Mélisande; and of course, he brings the death of his second wife, Mélisande, upon her himself.

Maurice believed firmly in the cycle of destruction and rebirth; Eros, mythical god of love, and Anteros, his counterpart as the god of revenge, are at the heart of Pélleas et Mélisande. In the great darkness, love is slowly dying; the kingdom is ravaged by famine, waters are foul, and death surrounds our characters. In seeking forbidden love, Pélleas and Mélisande culminate this, and revenge is visited upon all, now leaving the world ready to begin again.

Pélleas et Mélisande has been influential since in a number of media; best known are Claude Debussy‘s opera, and Jean Sibelius‘ incidental suite. This latter is a wonderful musical journey of beauty and tragedy; I would highly recommend discovering and listening to this masterpiece.