The Most Terrifying Painting Ever Is Weirder Than You Think
Imagine entering the “Villa of the Deaf Man” and finding paintings inside, depicting scenes of death, insanity, despair, and, in one horrific case, a crazed giant chowing down a human being like a cannibalistic Slim Jim. Your first instinct would probably be to slowly back away and call every priest, rabbi, and imam in the area to stand guard around the place as you organize a holy-napalm strike on these Gates of Hell. Baron Frédéric d'Erlanger, who found himself in that exact situation, thankfully ignored that totally understandable impulse and, as a result, helped preserve one of Francisco Goya’s most famous works.
You know, that super, super creepy one.
In 1819, not long before his death, the legendary Spanish painter moved into Quinta del Sordo (the aforementioned “Villa of the Deaf Man”), a two-story house outside Madrid nicknamed after the previous owner’s condition. There, Goya completed the series of famous and oh-so-haunting Black Paintings, including Saturn Devouring His Son, based on the ancient Greek myth of Cronus (or Saturn in Roman mythology) feasting on one of his children because of a prophecy that his progeny would kill him. And when Goya moved out some years later, he just ... left the paintings behind. To be fair, though, it’s not like he had a choice, since they were painted directly onto the walls of the villa. Almost as if Goya wanted to make sure that the damn things couldn't escape.
When Baron d'Erlanger bought the building many years after Goya’s death and found Satan’s illustrated nightmare journal inside, he channeled the first victim in every horror movie and had the painted plaster lifted and carefully remounted onto canvas. Thanks to his efforts, the Black Paintings could travel and enrich therapists all over the world. But their psych-damage could have been a lot stronger if the paintings’ restorer, one Martin Cubells, hadn’t censored one of them “in the interest of public decency,” as Goya researcher Robert Hughes put it. See, pre-restoration photos suggest that, originally, Saturn Devouring His Son featured this gargantuan dude sporting a gargantuan erection to go with his mouthful of child-flesh.
Oh, and just an FYI: Reading that last sentence probably put you on some kind of government watchlist. Sorry about that.
To be fair, Goya wasn’t the first artist to depict Saturn confusing the family album for a dinner menu, but he was the first to make the victim of this midnight snacking an adult instead of a baby. This, combined with the dead subject’s “curvaceous buttocks and legs,” and the, uh, involvement of a boner in the original, led art scholar John Ciofalo to suggest that the painting is actually an expression of “violent and insatiable lust.” Not of a sexual nature, though. That might be the surface layer, sure, but “lust” here can also mean a frenzied will to live, and a fear of death. After all, Goya worked on Saturn Devouring His Son when he knew that he wasn’t long for this world. So there’s enough here to suggest that perhaps Saturn in this piece is actually, well, a self-portrait.
There are a few interesting similarities between the mythological Titan and Goya, as they both feared death and only had one surviving child. It wouldn’t be a stretch to suggest that Saturn’s face, full of madness, was meant to reflect Goya’s own state of mind; trying to square his will to live with the crushing knowledge that his children hadn’t been given that privilege. This would be enough to make anyone see themselves as a monster, and perhaps that’s how Goya perceived himself near the end of his life. And what’s more monstrous than devouring your own children?
Probably doing it fully torqued, or at least at half-mast (for you see, the accounts of Saturn's “firmness” vary).
Aaaaaand that’s the second government watchlist that you’ve been added to today. Good luck with that.
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