(Note: This post, its title taken from my beloved "Sunday in the Park with George", was finished and scheduled well before Sondheim's death... a strange and poignant coincidence.)
Heinrich Lossow, before 1897.
...And often not so nice. Leda's coupling with that randy Zeus - this go 'round disguised as an elegant but aggressive water fowl - is one of mythology's many weird and decidedly icky stories. Right from the very beginning, though, artists have been inspired to retell the scandalous tale; countless interpretations of the story exist. Many of them are quite graphic, the story itself being a ready excuse. Told in paint and stone and metal. With Ledas tender and confused, ecstatic and traumatized. This is just a tiny selection.
Odilon Redon, 1910.
Unknown artist, third century AD.
Veronese, circa 1585.
Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1506.
Paul Cézanne, circa 1880.
Théodore Géricault, circa 1817.
Albert-Ernest Carrier-Belleuse, circa 1870.
Arturo Michelena, 1887.
François Lemoyne, before 1737.
Francisco Viera Portuense, circa 1800.
Copy of a lost painting by Michelangelo, after 1530.
Peter Paul Rubens - obviously based on the same lost Michelangelo - before 1600.
Paul Mathias Padua, 1939.
Attributed to Gillis Coignet, circa 1592-99. (Unrestored and restored.)
Franz Russ the Younger, circa second half of the nineteenth century.
François Boucher, 1742.
Léon François Comerre, 1908.
Étienne-Maurice Falconet, circa 1764-66.
Gianbettino Cignaroli, circa second quarter of the eighteenth century.
Lelio Orsi, circa 1560.
Jean-Léon Gérôme, 1895.
Hans Zatzka, before 1945.
Correggio, circa 1530-31.
Louis Frederick Grell, 1937.
François-Édouard Picot, 1832.
Antoine Coypel, before 1722.
Adolf Ulrik Wertmüller, 1783.
Georg Pencz, circa first half of the sixteenth century.
Louis Icart, 1934.
Cesare da Sesto, after Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1515.
Francesco d'Ubertino Verdi, called Bachiacca, circa 1518-20.
Henri Paul Motte, 1900.
William Shackleton, 1928.
Unknown artist, circa third or fourth century AD.
Adolf Erbslöh, 1909.
Wilfred Gabriel de Glehn, circa first half of the twentieth century.
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Perhaps understandable considering the subject matter - ? - this appears to have a subject only rarely taken up by women artists. Marie Laurencin - whose work I don't honestly care for - painted a handful of Ledas; sadly, hers were actually the only examples by a female hand that I could find.
Last month, Gigi and I participated in a "pop-up" at the Portland Art Museum as part of the Portland Book Festival (formerly Wordstock). Each year, the festival is a total riot of publishers and authors from all over the country - and often beyond - and a great crush of book lovers. It's always great fun. This go 'round, it was also a lovely way to celebrate the anniversary of the publication of our book, The Untold Gaze; its "pub date" came too late last year to be included in the festival, so we were very happy to be invited this year.
Each pop-up is presented in front of a particular painting or sculpture in the museum's collection, a work of art the organizers believe would make an apt pairing with the literary offering. Since it's always been one of my favorite pieces in the permanent collection, I asked for and was granted permission to perform in front of Boucher's Portrait of a Lady.
We had a really lovely turn-out for the event. Gigi gave a brief introduction to the book, then introduced writer and publisher of Forest Avenue Press, Laura Stanfill, who read her wonderful story from The Untold Gaze, "All This." Then, as the applause continued for Laura, our violinist, Tomoki Martens, came in from the next gallery and began the introduction to the French edition of Gluck's famous lament for Orpheus, "J'ai perdu mon Eurydice" from Orphée et Eurydice. Then I swept into the room and did what I did. I did it with a cold, no chance to warm up, and on only four hours of sleep - trying to finish the damn costume! - but I think I didn't really embarrass myself too much. Here's my part of the event:
(Video of the full event below.)
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Poor innocents, they don't know what monster is on the horizon! (Actually, they're blocking my planned pathway; I had to make a loop around them.)
My costume was actually not quite finished. And I should have had panniers underneath. As a last minute effort to give the thing a
little more volume, I added a full petticoat but, since that added volume in the front as well, I looked just a bit... pregnant...!
We couldn't actually do our event in front of the Boucher as there was a display case in the way. The painting is just out of view on the left.
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Portrait of a Lady, by François Boucher, circa 1760-70.
The aria I sang is contemporary with the painting; the opera debuted in 1762, the French edition debuted in 1774. And while my costume was roughly contemporary as well, it was really more influenced by Fragonard's fantasy portraits than by the Boucher. And then, it was really more designed to represent some sort of stage costume of the period.
Three of Fragonard's "fantasy portraits" with their anachronistic Medici collars, circa 1769.
Before I began: fifteen yards of not-quite-silk. The play of color and texture is wonderful; it shimmers. Sadly, the lighting in the gallery totally subdued that aspect.
My winged and wired lace collar in progress. Such an oddly shaped construction, it won't sit properly on any flat surface.
What are these...?
Turns out that they're sheets of printer paper, brushed with a little paint. Cut up, rolled, and glued, they formed the material for my wig.
Make-up test. I didn't get my mouth half so nice on the day of the actual performance.
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Probably my favorite picture from the event; what can that poor child be thinking...?
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And here's the video of the full event.
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Photographs courtesy of Stephen Rutledge, Gigi Little, Laura Stanfill, Diane Prokop, video by Tracy Stepp - thank you, all!
Stephen O’Donnell is a mid-career fine artist, writer, and singer/performer. His paintings are widely collected, both in this country and abroad. Entirely self-taught, he is perhaps best known for his self-portraits, work which most often exemplifies the portrait historié - in which a recognizable subject is portrayed in period costume or mythological guise, to dramatic or comic effect - as well as his small paintings of animals. His premier collection of short fiction, Half-Light, appeared in July of 2023. His work – both literary and visual – has appeared in the literary magazines/journals Nailed, Menacing Hedge, Buckmxn Journal, and Gertrude. He is married to writer and graphic designer Gigi Little, with whom he sometimes performs. Their book, The Untold Gaze – a collection of Stephen’s paintings paired with short fiction by thirty-three authors – was published in October of 2018. They live in Portland, Oregon.
The UNTOLD GAZE
The UNTOLD GAZE is a large format fine art book - 11x11 inches hardbound, 160 pages, full color - a collection of almost ninety of Stephen's paintings paired with short fiction and poetry inspired by his work. Included among the thirty-three authors are Lidia Yuknavitch, Tom Spanbauer, Monica Drake, Sam Roxas-Chua, and Whitney Otto. Click on the image above if you'd like more information on how to purchase the book.
