UNIT 1
In my Project Proposal, I have stated my intention to explore the mythological figure of Medusa as a transgressive heroine in my own art practice; as opposed to the fetishised, yet monstrous object that she is depicted as in many versions of the classical myth. Susan Bowers in the article ‘Medusa and the Female Gaze’ argues that: ‘The great irony of Medusa is that she has become a classic example of the female object, through the greatest emphasis in the Medusa myth is the terrifying power of her own gaze’. (Bowers, 1990, pp. 219) Through my own adaption of the Medusa narrative, presented in the medium of film, I hope to emphasise the power of Medusa’s gaze in opposition to an objectifying view of the character. In the article, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’, Laura Mulvey argues that the ‘male gaze’ exists within the unconscious of cinema’s form in a patriarchal society. She explains that this ‘male gaze’ has been shaped by ‘pre- existing’ patriarchal ‘social formations’ that encourage a fetishising and objectifying view of women in cinema. (Mulvey, 1975, p.5) While Mulvey discusses this gaze in relation to cinema, I believe her theory can be applied to other visual media such as representations of of Medusa in fine art.
One iconic depiction of Medusa within art history was painted by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio in 1597. Jonathan Jones in The Guardian’s ‘Portrait of the week’ has described the artwork as: ‘both a horrific and horrified image, as the eyes of the gorgon are fixed forever on the terrible realisation of who he or she is’. (Jones, 2003.) ‘He’, here being used as a possible pronoun due to Caravaggio’s model for the work being a male youth. The ‘horrific’ aspects of the panting are made clear by the portrayal of the writhing snakes, the gush of red blood at the opened throat and the ‘cave’ of the portrait’s mouth being opened in a scream.
In exploring the classical myth of Medusa, my research has directed me specifically to the feminist academic and psychoanalytic responses to the Sigmund Freud essay: ‘Medusa’s Head’. Barbara Creed explains in the book, ‘Fantasy and the Cinema’ how Freud theorised in the essay ‘Medusa’s Head’, that the head of Medusa represents the ‘terrifying genitals of the mother, but that this head also function[s] as a fetish object’ (Creed, 1989, pp83.) The snakes in this painting, as well as within other depictions of Medusa may be interpreted as phallic symbols, especially when placed in a composition with wide eyes, an open, bleeding wound at the neck and open ‘cave’ (Jones, 2003) mouth of the portrait; all of which might be interpreted as vaginal symbolism. Medusa’s gaze in the artwork is directed back at Medusa’s own reflection, as Jones argues, with the shield shape of the painting acting as a kind of cyclical mirror. The decapitation of Medusa renders her disembodied head an object; therefore removing the character’s subjectivity. While Medusa is able to turn to stone those who meet her eyes in various versions of the myth, there is no evidence of that ability in this painting; only the repulsion of seeing her own reflection is evident. Medusa’s gaze is directed to herself, as opposed to being directed to the viewers of the artwork, allowing the viewers to observe her as a ‘terrifying’ ‘fetish object’ without being implicated into the scene.
In my final artistic outcome of Unit 1, titled ‘Medusa II’, I have made reference to Caravaggio’s ‘Medusa’, and to the phallic symbolism that can be found within the classical myth. Unlike Caravaggio’s ‘Medusa’, however, my own reference to the painting rejects ‘Medusa’ as the subject of a ‘both a horrific and horrified image’, instead replacing her with my own depiction of ‘Perseus’, subverting representations of Perseus as a hero and Medusa as a monster within the original myth. Within my film, ‘Medusa II’, Perseus polishes his sword as a sexual act: heavily breathing whilst scrolling through images of a feminine statue on his phone. The sword then severs off his fingers and he lets out a cry of alarm. This relates to the concept of castration- depriving the character of his voyeuristic pleasure.
The idea was also influenced by Perseus’ strategy in the original myth of observing Medusa’s reflection in his shield to avoid meeting her eyes, something which Creed mentions in her analysis of Freud: ’Freud noted that a display of the female genitals makes a woman “unapproachable and repels all sexual desires”… Perseus’ solution is to look at only a reflection, a mirror-image of her genitals… his shield reflects an “altered” representation, a vision robbed of its threatening aspects.’ (Creed, 1989, pp. 84). Instead of observing Medusa on his phone, like in my film ‘Medusa I’, Perseus observes a feminine statue in reference to the character of ‘Galatea’ within the myth of ‘Pygmalion’ in ‘Medusa II’. In both adaptations, Perseus still observes an altered and objectified representation of a feminine figure, for which he is punished. As his final punishment within both ‘Medusa I’ and ‘Medusa II’, Medusa looks directly at the camera. Her observation performs the action of paralysing Perseus and also, figuratively, the viewers who observe the artwork. It is through this action and her triumph over Perseus that I hope to highlight Medusa’s power and subjectivity as a fictional figure. I have established her act of looking and turning Perseus to stone as the ending of my own version of the myth – subverting the ending of Medusa’s beheading within classical mythical depictions.
Jane Caputi, in ‘Goddesses and Monsters: Women, Myth, Power and Popular Culture’ explains how the act of exposing genitals can be viewed as a mythical signifier of a defiant action that wards off evil. Caputi additionally argues in her analysis of a scene in which a female character exposes her genitals as an act of defiance in the film ‘Basic Instinct’, that this is an assertion of power, and that the vulva in itself can hold power as a symbol, as opposed to being used as a tool for the purpose of fetishisation. Caputi argues: ‘that sex announces and pronounces its presence, refusing to be reduced to or contained by caricature (pornography) or named as a “lack” (as in psychoanalytic theory). Rather, “the abyss” looks and talks back, potent and full of presence.’ (Caputi, 2004, pp. 329).
This raises the question of whether vaginal symbolism or exposure of the female genitals might be used as a tool to empower female embodiment, or if the usage of this symbolism and exposure only contributes to an objectifying view of women and female characters. While exposing genitals directly to the camera might appear to me as too pornographic for my own purposes, I have still aimed to investigate this question through including multiple visual references to sexual symbolism in my studio work. The shapes of Medusa’s eyes can be viewed as symbolic of the vulva, and there are multiple shots of a phone screen and different portal-like holes in the film footage acting as openings in ‘Medusa II’. I have found visual references to sexual symbolism within my artwork effectively evokes power within a narrative that explores sexual dynamics while avoiding the objectification of the feminine body.
The inclusion of this symbolism has also helped me to develop a visual language within film as an artist, something which I feel contributes to an intriguing viewing experience. The psychedelic and colourful compositions of my artistic practice was something I enjoyed investigating in relation to the work of Pipilotti Rist. In her artwork: ‘Worry Will Vanish’, Rist explores the texture of the human body as well as the textures and colours of natural forms such as leaves, tree branches and flowers. Using two screens that can be seen in the video below, Rist depicts a view on the left hand screen that could be interpreted as the inside of a human body whilst the imagery on the right hand screen depicts nature within an external, open space. The layering of her video footage, the bright, saturated colours she has used and the mirrored, kaleidoscopic effects that are present within this installation had inspired me to incorporate similar techniques into the style of my ‘Medusa II’ film. I was also inspired by Rist’s depiction of the body to include close-ups of my eyes within my own film.
Laure Prouvost’s video installation ‘Swallow’ especially influenced the opening scene of my final artistic outcome film ‘Medusa II’. Her film is rhythmic montage of shots that includes birds, fish and natural landscapes, caught between intermissions of a close up of a mouth with a heavy breathing sound laid over the footage. I used my own footage of a fish gasping within ‘Medusa II’ in a similar way to how a fish is filmed within this artwork. I found the footage of the gasping fish to be a visceral and bizarrely sexual image when placed alongside a gasping, human mouth. This imagery helped me to think of how I might establish visuals that would match the graphic description of Poseidon’s rape of Medusa within my Medusa poem, which has been used as sound within my Medusa films.
In seeking to explore the idea of a ‘female gaze’ in connection with Medusa that is directed towards the viewers of my work to oppose an objectifying ‘male gaze’, I have included cinematic shots of my own eyes, drawings of feminine eyes and an iris pasted on the camera of an animated iPhone frame.
On the right: ‘Medusa II‘, 2023, screenshots taken from video, video length: 00:06:12
This was partially influenced by Shana Moulton’s installation work: ‘Whispering Pines’, in which a projector screen facing the audience presented them with a detached pair of feminine eyes- watching viewers as they viewed the artwork in turn.
Rachel Maclean also detaches a pair of eyes in her work that are used as dystopian surveillance cameras in her film: ‘Make Me Up’.
By drawing attention to the act of looking, and by extension, looking as an act of violence, the viewer is encouraged to be more conscious of their own perspective and position as a voyeur in viewing these artworks.
The act of the artwork looking back at the viewer has been listed as a transgressive tool within ‘The Feminist Uncanny in Theory and Art Practice’, written by Alexandra M. Kokoli: ‘As the mirror stage reveals the object hidden within the subject, this exchange of gazes between this ‘divine’ statue and its human admirer (named as Pygmalion and his statue in Freud 1919, p. 369) uncovers the desiring subject in the object of desire.’ (Kokoli, 2017, pp. 34). Through reference to Jacques Lacan’s theory of the mirror stage, (a process in which infants first identify themselves as subject through looking at themselves in a mirror,) and through the metaphor of the mythical figure of Pygmalion, Kokoli explains how an object, or the objectified, committing the act of looking, allows for that object to take on its own subjectivity. The myth of ‘Pygmalion’ is a story about a sculptor of the same name, who sculpts a woman and falls in love with his sculpture, named as ‘Galatea’ in post-classical depictions. Galatea is later brought to life by Aphrodite as an answer to Pygmalion’s prayers.
Jean Cocteau’s film ‘Blood of a Poet’ contains imagery related to the Pygmalion myth as well as to the concept of Lacan’s mirror stage. The scene below contains imagery both of a statue coming alive and of a mirror that becomes a void into which the central character falls. In the object becoming subject, the lines between the subject and object according to Lacan’s theory of the mirror stage are blurred; perhaps indicating why the central character in the scene plummets into the void of what logically appears to be a solid mirror. The statue speaks in a feminine voice from lipstick-covered lips in contrast to the rest of her remaining still and seemingly pristine. Her eyes additionally remain closed as she speaks, allowing her mouth to be highlighted further. The statue asks: ‘Do you think it’s that simple to get rid of a wound? to close the mouth of a wound?’. The emphasis on the statue’s mouth within the film and the void of the mirror reminds me of the vaginal symbolism I have included within my own practice. The statue and the mirror are presented as threatening, as the male character seeks to escape the room and close the mouth of the statue, before the statue addresses him in a mocking tone. In achieving subjectivity, the statue is presented as a monstrous figure.
I decided I wished to include references to Pygmalion and Galatea within my own artistic practice whilst working on ‘Medusa II’, though I wished to reinterpret the monstrous way that Galatea is depicted within my own work. Perseus is represented by an animated clay puppet and a set of drawings in both the films I have completed. Within the classical myth, Medusa can turn to stone any who meet her gaze. My use of clay was intended to be suggestive of the material of stone – an allusion to Medusa’s ability as well as to the tale of Pygmalion. I found it interesting that there had begun to be a cyclical motif of statues established within the narrative of my work: with Perseus becoming ever more an object while Galatea makes the transition from an object to a subjective figure. Galatea is also represented by a body made from air-dry clay, with a drawing to represent her facial features. During the film, she is the object of Perseus’ sexual desires before Medusa turns him into a two-dimensional drawing- therefore returning the female gaze to paralyse him. As a result of this, the final scene of ‘Medusa II’ has Galatea escaping the confines of Perseus’ phone and gaining subjectivity through my features being shown on her clay body. Unlike in ‘Blood of a Poet’, my depiction of Galatea opens her eyes and observes the world first, before her mouth opens in a smile, performing her own subjectivity through the act of opening her eyes. The two characters of Medusa and Galatea share a laugh at the end of my film. This is partly to emphasise the joy of their newly gained freedom and subjectivity, but it also serves as a reference to the text: ‘The Laugh of Medusa’, written by Hélène Cixous. ‘The Laugh of Medusa’ is an essay that seeks to encourage women to find their own subjectivity in building their own self-narratives and identity; stepping outside of patriarchal confines within language and within women’s own bodies.
By playing both the role of Medusa and Galatea in my final film works, I have tried to humanise these characters and embody my own representation of them, while also establishing my own feminist narrative in combining and altering existing mythical influences.
Bibliography:
Bowers, S, R. (1990) ‘Medusa and the Female Gaze’. NWSA Journal. Vol. 2, No. 2. pp. 217-235 [online] Available from: https://www.jstor.org/stable/4316018
Caputi, J. (2004) Goddesses and Monsters: Women, Myth, Power, and Popular Culture. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Cixous, H. (1976) The Laugh of the Medusa. Signs. Vol. 1. No. 4. pp. 875-893 [online] Available from: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3173239?seq=19#metadata_info_tab_contents
Creed, B. (1989) Horror and the Monstrous-Feminine: An Imaginary Abjection In: Donald, J. (ed.) Fantasy and the Cinema. London: British Film Institute. pp83, pp84.
Jones, J. (2003) ‘Medusa, Caravaggio (c 1598)’ The Guardian, Sat 25 Jan [online] Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2003/jan/25/art [Accessed: 24th January 2023]
Kokoli, A, M. (2017) The Feminist Uncanny in Theory and Art Practice. London: Bloomsbury Publishing.
Mulvey, L. (1975). ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.’ Screen, 16.3: Autumn, pp 5-18.