Amanda Dailey – Blog Entry
2: Representations of Female Curiosity
In her article, “Female Savants and the
Erotics of Knowledge in Pre-Raphaelite Art,” Beverly Taylor describes a few of
the many paintings depicting sorceresses, prophetesses, and wise women from the
second half of the nineteenth century and discusses them in relation to the
prevailing attitudes toward learned women in the Victorian era. She argues that
despite a prevailing tradition of viewing intellectually voracious women as a
type of femme fatale whose knowledge poses a threat, (alongside the stereotypes of
studious women as being unattractive, unhealthy, and potentially barren,) the
Pre-Raphaelites favored a more complex vision of female knowledge and united in
their works the idea of feminine beauty with the dangerously seductive appeal
of the unknown. Sandys’ Medea,
Rossetti’s The Question, and
Waterhouse’s The Sorceress can thus
all be seen as containing a certain divergence from the norm - their mythological
females have acquired knowledge and its subsequent power, but are also healthy
and beautiful. Both they and their knowledge create the allure of mystery.
For me,
however, the figures represented in these works (Medea, the Sphinx, and Circe,
respectively,) represent just one side of the coin. These women (or female
“monsters” in the case of the Sphinx) have already acquired and are thus in the
very process of exercising their knowledge. They are often associated with
danger and even malevolence – but what about women who follow a slightly
different, though intimately connected and equally familiar, tradition? What
about the representation of woman as innocent, the figure whose curiosity and
overwhelming desire to know potentially leads to wrongdoing? Taylor mentions,
for example, Christianity’s Eve, who gave in to temptation and tasted the
forbidden fruit. Turning to Greek mythology, one might think of women like
Pandora or Psyche, who were similarly curious about what they did not know.
John William Waterhouse represents both in a strikingly similar fashion, and I myself
was curious – could one also use these works to support Taylor’s argument for
the Pre-Raphaelites’ subversion of Victorian attitudes?
In the paintings by Waterhouse, both
women are seen opening the boxes from their respective myths. Pandora, the
ancient Greek analogue to Eve, was the first human woman created by the gods
and opens a jar (later mistranslated as a ‘box’) out of curiosity, only to
release death and disease onto mankind. The story was thus meant to explain human
life and its cycle as one of death and (re-)birth. Psyche, too, opens a box –
this one thought to contain a bit of Persephone’s beauty, gained on an errand
to the Underworld for the goddess Aphrodite. To her surprise, it contains only
Sleep, and she falls into a deep slumber from which the god Eros (her husband)
later awakens her. Waterhouse depicts the women in the act of opening, at the
very moment of knowing. Just as one might imagine, their curiosity is evident
in their peeking profiles, entirely absorbed in the mystery of the object
before them. The shadowed woodland behind them and their seclusion creates a
sense of secrecy. Both Pandora and Psyche are young and beautiful, and the
drapery falling around exposed shoulders adds to their allure.
Waterhouse, Pandora, 1896 Waterhouse, Psyche Opening the Golden Box, 1903
While these figures may stand as the naïve counterpart to such
learned and experienced figures as Circe or Medea, I would argue that in many
ways they also stand as further examples of Taylor’s argument regarding
Pre-Raphaelite representations of female knowledge. With foci on both the box
and the female figure, the paintings reflect a duality – a very literal
representation of elusive and/or contained knowledge and the sexualized female.
On the one hand, their actions have at times disastrous results, and thus may
add to the idea of danger as being created by female curiosity and agency, yet in
this way they also add to the Pre-Raphaelite ambiguity of a character’s
intention and in a much broader sense depict the very search for truth and thirst
for knowledge common to humanity as a whole, beyond restrictions of gender.
Like the paintings mentioned by Taylor, these works by Waterhouse are “a
recognition of the beauty, seductive appeal and simultaneous danger of the unknown,
uncharted and uncontained” (Taylor, 134).
Sources:
Taylor,
Beverly. “Female Savants and the Erotics of Knowledge in Pre-Raphaelite Art.” Collecting the Pre-
Raphaelites, 1997: 121-135.
Images:
Pandora – http://www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com/pictures/pandora-1896/?r=%2fpictures%2fsearch%2f%3fk%3dPandora
Psyche Opening the
Golden Box – http://www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com/pictures/psyche-golden-box-1903/?r=%2fpictures%2fsearch%2f%3fp%3d3%26pz%3d10%26d%3d190
I found your arguments in this blog very interesting. There definitely is a parallel between the innocent female figure succumbing to curiosity, and the predatory sorceress figure. They both seem to indicate an inherent drive to learn in the female nature. Therefore, it is rather ironic that Victorian culture saw woman's physiology as unfit for intellectual activity. I really liked the fact that you referred to the link between Eve to Pandora. In both cases curiosity, the urge to ‘know’, are emotionalized, and depicted as ‘temptation’. Female intellectual activity was linked to mystery and emotionality rather than what were considered to be masculine values like ‘logic' or ‘virtue’. However, I am glad that the Pre-Raphaelites used the subjects of female savants or figures like Psyche and Pandora in order to praise the acts of ‘curiosity’ and pursuits of discovery rather than to criticize female weakness.
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