The Death of Procris

by Abigail Young

The digital archive that I chose to explore was ArtStor, which has extensive records of Fine and Decorative arts of all kinds. To refine my search, I narrowed down the field to art from the United States that was created between 1770 and 1820. A painting that stood out to me was made by Benjamin West called Death of Procris. According to the ArtStor entry, the painting was completed in 1770 but was retouched in 1803. It is an oil painting on panel which would be typical of this time period. It currently resides in The Art Institute of Chicago.

This painting by West appears to be inspired by a work Piero di Cosimo which was made around 1495. The original painting has a very similar layout to this one, with the male figure leaning over the woman who appears to be asleep or dead, as well as a dog on the right hand side of the composition. The layout displayed in this painting is a popular one, as there are three main elements that visually create a kind of triangle. This subtle shape in the composition draws the viewers eyes to the various elements, and creates a dynamic tension between the cloaked figure, the woman, and the dog.

Another formal element to note about this painting is the color scheme that is used. The fabric on both figures are rich jewel tones, the cloaked figure in a russet red and the woman in a peacock blue. Using color theory, these colors may hint at the nature of each of the people in the scene. Typically, reds are thought to represent anger or danger, while blue is often a more serene or relaxing color–it is also often tied to innocence and the Virgin Mary. With this in mind, West may be implying that there is some kind of treachery happening between the two.

After looking up the backstory associated with the title, it appears that there are several different versions of Procris’ death. She is a figure in greek mythology, and there is also a mention of the story of her death in Ovid’s Metamorphosis. According to the myth, Procris followed her husband into the forrest one day when he went out hunting, because she thought that he may be cheating on her. When she hears him shouting the name of another woman in the forrest, Procris steps out from where she is hiding behind a tree. This startles her husband, and he ends up shooting her with a bow and arrow, and killing her. Knowing this story, the contrast of the colors, and their meaning, along with the presence of the hunting dog all make sense. The male figure is revealed to be the husband, whose red cape implicates his guilt in this murder, while the innocent Procris now lays dead. Looking a bit more closely at the painting, you can see some drops of blood on the white of Procris’ gown, as well as a bloody arrow resting at the base of the composition.

Despite the dark background of this story, I think that the painting in and of itself is really interesting. It has beautiful technique, and is something different than would typically be seen in this time period that was over-run by portraits of the wealthy.

 

Learn more about the mythology of Procris: https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Procris/procris.html

Link to the ArtStor page: https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/AMICO_CHICAGO_1031149700

Battle of Sullivan’s Island Memorialized at the Gibbes Museum of Art

By Abigail Young

This past week, I revisited the Gibbes Museum of Art. I have been to this museum several times before, but I like to go back every so often to check out new exhibitions that have been installed (their latest is a collection of works by William H. Johnson, whose work focused on African American history and activism in the 1940s–definitely worth checking out!)

While I was there, searching for an interesting piece of art from Early America, I stumbled upon this diptych that depicts the Battle of Sullivan’s Island in 1776 by Henry Gray. According to the signage about this work, Lieutenant Henry Gray “was an eyewitness to the battle… Gray soon after recorded his experience in these two paintings…”

 What I particularly enjoyed about this works was how easily the artist tells a story with just these two frames. In the first, you see the British ships facing off against the fort at the tip of the island. In the second, you see the same British ships retreating, the one in the foreground enveloped in thick, gray smoke.

Admittedly, I did not know much about this battle before researching this piece. From what I have gathered about this particular event, it was the British’s intention to take over Sullivan’s Island, and then use the Island as their home base as they went on to the neighboring towns of Charleston, Mount Pleasant, and beyond. However, the American forces were led by Colonel Moultrie (who the fort was later named after) in a battle that spanned an entire day, and into the night. At some point during the night, the British forces gave up and retreated to a safe distance–this fact shows that there must have been some artistic license taken by Lt. Henry Gray, though I think that the painting warrants the inclusion.

This piece details an important event in the very long history of the low country, which is why it has rightfully been preserved and put on display at the local art museum. Though depictions of battle or historic events are not revolutionary for the kinds of art being produced during this time, I think that this piece is special for a few different reasons. Most of the other works in this wing of the museum (placed there for their proximity in date of production), are the typical portraits of rich, white, notable people around town that have been seen over and over again. This piece stands apart from the others, in that it is a scene depicting our local history, and also a diptych–in essence, showing the height of the battle, and the triumphant result. I also enjoy that the materials used to make the piece are much simpler; Henry Gray sketched out the scene with simple watercolors on paper, more so trying to capture a historic event than create the next great work of art. I think it makes the piece seem more honest and representative of the time than the other lofty portraits of various important people ever could.