Tag: Metamorphoses

Zeus and Io

Zeus and Io

“…and Hera, Hermes and Argus”

The story of Zeus and Io is one of the many fascinating tales from Greek mythology. It involves love, deception, and a remarkable transformation. The story is written in various ancient Greek texts, but one of the most well-known versions can be found in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses”. Ovid was a Roman poet who lived during the 1st century AD and wrote a collection of mythical tales, including the story of Zeus and Io.

Here’s the story: Io was a beautiful mortal princess and her radiant beauty caught the attention of Zeus, king of the gods. He became infatuated with her and desired her affection. Zeus, being notorious for his amorous escapades, sought to pursue Io without the knowledge of his jealous wife Hera. To avoid detection, Zeus approached Io in the form of a cloud. It’s Zeus naughty and cunning habit to seduce his amorous victims in disguise, in the form of a cloud this time.

Zeus, disguised as a cloud, seduces the beautiful princess Io. Look at his face and his paw! (c.1530)
Correggio (Italian, c.1489 – 1534), 162×74cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

Zeus’ wife Hera became enormously suspicious when she saw that cloud hanging above the fields and went to see if her husband Zeus was behind it and maybe after another beautiful girl.

Oops, there is Zeus wife Hera! Catching her husband with Io; Hermes and Argus in the background, but that’s only later in the story… (1619)
Hans Bock the Elder (German, c.1550 – c.1623), 47x62cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest.

Zeus then used his divine powers and transformed Io into a white heifer (a young and fertile cow) to hide their affair from his jealous wife. This transformation allowed Io to live among the other cattle without arousing suspicion.

Zeus (with the eagle) is surprised by his wife Hera (with the peacock) and quickly transforms his lover Io into a cow (c.1530)
On the left the drawing as study for the print, and on the right the ultimate print. Drawing (c.1530), Michiel Coxie (Flemish, 1499 – 1592), Paper and Brown Ink, 17x14cm, British Museum, London. Print (c.1540), printmaker Cornelis Bos (Flemish, c.1508 – c.1555), after the drawing by Michiel Coxie (Flemish, 1499 – 1592), engraving, 18x14cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

However, Hera was no fool and soon became suspicious of her husband’s intentions. She suspected that Zeus was up to something and devised a plan to discover the truth.

Hera is now finding out what’s happening, having watched her husband Zeus with the beautiful Io in the body of a cow (c.1656)
Jan Gerritsz. van Bronchorst (Dutch, c.1603 – 1661), 274x176cm, Centraal Museum, Utrecht.

Hera approached Zeus and cunningly expressed her admiration for the cow, suggesting that she would love to have the creature as a gift. Zeus, aware of his wife’s jealousy, could not refuse the request and reluctantly agreed to give the cow to her.

Hera demand Zeus: “Give that cow (Io, that is) to me!” (1638)
David Teniers (Flemish, 1582 – 1649), 47×61cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

Now, Hera had possession of the transformed Io, but she wasn’t entirely convinced of her husband’s innocence. To keep an eye on the situation, she assigned the many-eyed giant guy Argus Panoptes (the all-seeing Argus) to guard the cow. Argus was an extraordinary creature with hundreds of eyes, and he was capable of keeping watch over Io at all times, even while some of his eyes rested.

Hera tells Argus, the guy with 100 eyes, to guard the cow Io (c.1625)
Printmaker Moyses van Wtenbrouck (Dutch, c.1595 – c.1647), engraving, 13x18cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Zeus was deeply concerned for Io’s safety and well-being. In a desperate attempt to free her, he sought the help of his son Hermes, the messenger of the gods and a skilled trickster.

Zeus instructs Hermes to kill Argus and to free the cow Io (c.1656)
Jan Gerritsz. van Bronchorst (Dutch, c.1603 – 1661), 277x183cm, Centraal Museum, Utrecht.

Hermes devised a clever plan to rescue Io. He played a melodious tune on his flute and began to tell entertaining stories to Argus. As the music and tales enchanted the many-eyed giant, his eyes gradually closed, one by one, until all were shut in a peaceful slumber.

Hermes plays the flute and tells stories, until all the 100 eyes of Argus fell asleep,with the cow Io in the background (c.1592)
Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1566 – 1651), 64x81cm, Centraal Museum, Utrecht.
Argus fell asleep and Hermes is pulling his sword to kill Argus; the cow Io in the background (1610)
Paulus van Vianen (Dutch, 1570 – 1614), Silver Plaquette, 13x16cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Taking advantage of the situation, Hermes swiftly slew Argus with a single stroke of his sword.

Hermes kills the 100-eyed Argus with Io as a cow in the back of the picture, 5th Century BC
Greek Stamnos Vase, 5th Century BC, found in Cerveteri Italy, height 30cm, diameter 25cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

After Argus’s death, Hera was informed of his demise, and she mourned the loss of her loyal servant. As a tribute to the fallen guardian, Hera transferred Argus’s eyes to the tail of her favorite bird, the peacock, which became a symbol of her power and authority.

The dead Argus on the ground, and Hera placing the eyes of Argus on the tail of a peacock (17th Century)
Deifobo Burbarini (Italian, 1619 – 1680), 159x255cm, Private Collection, latest Christie’s New York 2017.

Io was finally free from her captor, but Hera’s rage did not subside. In her fury, she sent a tormenting gadfly to relentlessly sting and chase Io across the world, making her wander in agony.

Poor Io being pestered by a gadfly sent by Hera; the fly on her ear, she cannot reach it and it makes Io-as-cow running in panic all over the Mediterranean, through the Ionian Sea and over the Bosporus into Egypt (2019)
Olivia Musgrave (Irish, 1958), Bronze, 39x54x26cm, John Martin Gallery, London.

Io’s wanderings led her to Egypt, where she eventually returned to her original human form. In Egypt, she gave birth to a son named Epaphus, who would later become a renowned king and ancestor of various legendary figures.

Io (left, back in human form but still with the cow horns) is welcomed in Egypt by Isis (right) and Io is living happily ever after
fresco from the temple of Isis in Pompeii, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, Italy.

The story of Io and Zeus is one of the many tales that highlight the complicated relationships among the gods and mortals in Greek mythology. It showcases the consequences of divine infidelity and the lengths to which the gods would go to protect their interests and secrets.

Ionian Sea and Bosporus

After her transformation into a cow and subsequent escape from Argus, Io roamed through various regions, enduring Hera’s torment in the form of a gadfly that continually stung her. Her wandering took her through different lands and over various seas. The Ionian Sea is named after Io and she crossed the Bosporus on her way to Egypt.

The word “Bosporus” does indeed have a connection to the idea of “cow crossing” in its etymology. The Bosporus, the strait that separates the European and Asian parts of Turkey, derives its name from ancient Greek. The Greek word “Βόσπορος” (Bosporos) is a combination of two words: “βοῦς” (bous), which means “cow,” and “πόρος” (poros), which means “crossing” or “passage.” So, the term “Bosporus” can be interpreted as the “Cow Crossing” or the “Cow Passage.” In a similar vein, “Oxford” in England has its name derived from “oxen ford,” which means a place where oxen (and likely other cattle) could cross a river. Same for “Coevorden” in The Netherlands. Place names often carry historical or mythological significance, and they can provide fascinating insights into the cultural heritage and stories of the regions they represent.

Greek and Roman Gods

The three gods involved in the story of Zeus and Io are:

  • Zeus (Ζεύς) is the god of the sky and thunder, and king of the gods, married to Hera. His symbol is the eagle. The Roman equivalent is Jupiter, also knows as Jove. Read more about Zeus in The Twelve Olympians.
  • Hera (Ήρα) is the goddess of marriage, women and family and the queen of gods, wife of Zeus. Her symbol is the peacock. The Roman equivalent is Juno. See Hera in The Twelve Olympians.
  • Hermes (Ἑρμῆς) is the messenger of the gods and the divine trickster. His Roman equivalent is Mercury. More about Hermes in The Twelve Olympians.
Icarus

Icarus

Hubris (ὕβρις): Pride Goeth Before The Fall…

This is a story of ambition, pride and downfall. It’s about Icarus (Ἴκαρος) and his father Daedalus (Δαίδαλος) and how they escaped imprisonment, flying out of the infamous Labyrinth on the isle of Crete. But with a tragic ending. Icarus flies too high and too close to sun; he loses his wings, falls out of the sky, plunges into the water, and drowns in what’s now called the Icarian Sea. A story from Greek mythology and written down in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

Anthony van Dyck (1599 – 1641), “Self-Portrait as Icarus with Daedalus” (1618), 112x93cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Daedalus is concentrating on adjusting the ribbons with the wings over his son’s shoulders, and may be explaining to him the importance of flying at the right altitude. Icarus though, is already making his own plan. He looks with pride and will follow his own path. Its a self-portrait by Van Dyck, when he was 19 years old. About to start his own career and become a famous painter on his own merits. That’s what he is expressing in this painting.

According to the classical Greek legend, Daedalus was a master architect most famously responsible for building the Labyrinth on the island on Crete, as prison for the Minotaur monster, a half-man, half-bull. Because of his knowledge of the Labyrinth, King Minos of Crete shut Daedalus and his son Icarus, up in his own created Labyrinth, to simply keep the mysteries of the labyrinth a secret. Daedalus decided that for him and his son the only way to escape was up through the air.

Laurent Pécheux (1729 – 1821), “Daedalus and Icarus in the Labyrinth”, 97x73cm, current whereabouts unknown, latest at Sothebys January 19, 2005.
Daedalus tells his son the that the only way out of the Labyrinth is through the air. In the front left corner the instruments of Daedalus as architect, on the right the stove where the beeswax was melted to glue the feathers together.

Daedalus constructed for himself and Icarus sets of wings made from feathers held together by beeswax. He then cautioned his son to fly a middle course: neither so low that the sea would wet the feathers and make them heavy, nor so high that the heat of the sun would damage them.

School of Joseph-Marie Vien (1716 – 1809), “Daedalus in the Labyrinth, attaching the wings to his son Icarus” (c.1750), 195x130cm, Louvre, Paris.
Daedalus is attaching the wings to the shoulders of Icarus and gives his son the vital pre-flight briefing. Seems Icarus has other thoughts, he is pointing out to where he wants to go. Is that towards the sun?

“Daedalus said: Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way between earth and heaven, if you fly too low the moisture from the sea weighs down your wings, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes. Take me as your guide and follow the course I show you!” (From Ovid’s Metamorphoses book VIII. Verse 183-235)

Jacob Peeter Gowy (1615 – 1661) after Peter Paul Rubens (1577 – 1640), “The Fall of Icarus” (1637), 195x180cm, Prado, Madrid.
Icarus, his wings in tatters, plunges past Daedalus into the sea. Icarus’ mouth and eyes are wide open in shock and fear, and his body tumbles as it falls. Daedalus is still flying, his wings intact and fully functional; he looks alarmed towards the falling body of his son. They are high above a bay containing people and a fortified town at the edge of the sea.

Overcome by a feeling of pride and confidence, Icarus disobeyed his father and soared high into the sky trying to quench his thirst. But he came too close to the sun. And without warning, the heat from the sun melted the wax holding his feathers together. One by one, Icarus’s feathers fell like snowflakes. Icarus kept flapping his “wings”, but he had no feathers left and was only flapping his bare arms. Then he fell into the sea and drowned.

Joos de Momper (1564 – 1635), “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus”, 154173cm, Nationalmuseum, Stockholm. Joos de Momper is closely following the narratives from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. These include an angler catching a fish with a rod and line, a shepherd leaning on a crook, a ploughman resting on the handles of his plough. According to Ovid, they are amazed with this sight of Daedalus and Icarus and believed to be gods. Up at the top left, Daedalus is seen to be flying well, but Icarus is in an inverted position as he tumbles down.

“Icarus, Icarus where are you? Which way should I be looking, to see you?”, screamed Daedalus. Finally, Daedalus found the body of his son floating amidst feathers. Cursing his inventions, he took the body to the nearest island and buried it there. The island where Icarus was buried is named Icaria.

Paul Ambroise Slodtz (1702 – 1758), Fall of Icarus” (1743), Marble, 38x64x55cm, Louvre, Paris.
A beautiful intimate marble from the Louvre. Icarus fell into the sea, a wave comes from the right, his wings detached and the feathers in disarray. As if he washed ashore on the island of Icaria, in the middle of the Icarian Sea. The island where his father Daedalus will burry him.

What do we learn from this story? Icarus is instructed to fly between the extremes; not too high but also not too low. This is a warning to avoid being too ambitious while also not becoming completely unambitious. One need to find a golden ratio. In the story are significant changes of fortune. When Daedalus and Icarus start their flight, it marks a change from prison to freedom, from bad to good fortune but then comes the moment that Icarus gets overconfident and flies too high, he wants to reach the sun! With as result that his wings disintegrate, and his fortune changes from good to bad. Pride goes before the fall! The story of Icarus is the perfect example of hubris!

Herbert Draper (1863-1920), “The Lament for Icarus” (1898). Draper’s painting a more romantic view, in which three nymphs have recovered the (apparently dry) body of Icarus, and he is laid out on a rock, while they lament his fate, to the accompaniment of a lyre. Perhaps influenced by contemporary thoughts about human flight and aerospace travel, Draper gives Icarus huge wings, and they are shown intact, rather than disintegrated from their exposure to the sun’s heat.
Narcissus and Echo

Narcissus and Echo

Meet Narcissus and Echo! Although we know them already, as they are around us every day and everywhere. But originally they are two mythological characters from the “Metamorphoses”, an 1st century book in Latin, by the Roman poet Ovid.

John William Waterhouse (1849 – 1917), “Echo and Narcissus” (1903), 109x189cm, Oil on Canvas, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.

Let’s start with Narcissus. He was in those ancient mythological times a most beautiful young man. One sunny day, while walking in a wood and being thirsty, he wanted to drink from a well. But then another thirst grew in him. As Narcissus drank, he was enchanted by an attractive young boy he saw in the pond. Narcissus fell in love with that pretty guy in the water, mistaking that shadow of himself for a real body. Absolutely spellbound, he could not stop looking at that mirror image of himself. But poor Narcissus, whenever he wanted to kiss his lover, and when his lips touched the water, the reflection disappeared. Whenever he reached his hands to that guy in the pond, the image faded away. The boy he fell in love with did not exist and was nothing else than his own reflection.

Caravaggio (1571 – 1610), “Narcissus” (c. 1598), 110x92cm, Oil on Canvas, Palazzo Barberini, Rome.

Narcissus lay down next to the pond and being deeply in love kept on staring at his own image. No food anymore and no sleep. He started crying, but when his tears touched the water, the pool rippled and the object of his desire disappeared. Narcissus ultimately faded away and died. On that spot where he died, flowers started to grow; it’s the Narcissus flower, the daffodil, with its head hanging down, as if looking at the flower’s own refection in the water. See the painting by Waterford, some daffodils start to grow already next to Narcissus.

Anonymous, “Narcis” (c.1765), 30x19cm, Watercolor on Paper, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Would Narcissus have lived now and amongst us, he probably non-stop posted pictures of himslef on his social media. In that sense Narcissus invented the “selfie”, as ultimate passionate love for ones own image. We all know some of these guys and girls; check your InstaGram! We might even Narcissus ourselves?

Now about Echo, a young girl who fell in love with Narcissus. But first back to the beginning as described in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Echo was one of those girls who cannot stop talking, a chatterbox first class. Whenever in that mythological world the god Jupiter was playing around with girls, Echo distracted his wife Juno with her endless babbling. Juno got pretty angry and punished Echo. From that moment on, Echo could only repeat the last few words mentioned by someone else.

Alexandre Cabanel (1823 – 1889) “Echo” (1874) 98x67cm, Oil on Canvas, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

When Echo noticed Narcissus walking in the woods, she immediately fell in love. Narcissus sensed that someone was around and said: “Who is there, come here!”. And Echo said: “Come here!”. Narcissus said: “Let’s meet” and Echo said “Let’s meet!”. But when Narcissus saw Echo, he did not like her at all. Echo, feeling ashamed and rejected, hide in a cave where she became old and wrinkled and then died. Only her voice remains and that voice can still be heard when you are hiking in the mountains. Poor Echo will forever continue to repeat your last few words. I guess we all know some of these girls, endless talking and basically saying nothing more than just a few echoed words.

Of course there are deeper psychological meanings behind being a Narcist or being like Echo. The Narcists around us are the self-centered persons and the Echoists are the ones always focusing on others and neglecting themselves. And that makes them attracting each other, but never really connecting. They both should learn to share a bit each other’s characteristics. For Narcissus to echo more and for Echo to become a bit more narcistic.

The Caravaggio painting became the iconic image of Narcissus. The painting is currently to be seen on the exhibition “Caravaggio & Bernini, the Discovery of Emotions” in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, until January 19, 2020. This exhibition (and Caravaggio’s Narcissus) will then move to the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam as “Caravaggio-Bernini, Baroque in Rome” from February 14 until June 7, 2020.