In the midst of a creative funk I have decided to finally decorate my condo after two years of doing nothing but messing up the place. I've taken on painting as my first task, and am reminded of one of my favorite creepy art stories. Surely you've seen the painting above, known as Saturn Devouring his Son?
Francisco Goya, the artist, wasn't always so eery. Look at some of these commissioned works he did early in his life. Soothing really.
Beautiful.
I'm feeling a little cheerier already. Perky, even.
Like you and I, Francisco was horribly troubled. Luckily for us he didn't mind to show it. I particularly like the self portrait below, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters.
Things took a turn for the far creepier though when, at 72 and completely deaf from a nasty case of Cholera, old Franny moved into a house in Madrid and decided to decorate the walls of the house with his own paintings. Keeping this brilliant shit all to himself, he put oil paint directly on the walls and created a series now known at The Black Paintings. Here are a few gems.
Here is the creepiest part of this entire situation, though. The dudes who found these paintings - far after Francisco Goya was dead. Meaning, that not only do we not really know if the painting was called Saturn Devouring his Son, we have no idea if Saturn was even the model.
I mean really, the only reason art historians assume the painting is about the myth of Saturn is another painting, by another artist, called Saturn Devouring his Son. Catch is, it looks like this:
I see the similarity and all, but I'm not convinced. Meaning, we don't know if it's Saturn, if that hopeless headless creature is a son or even a male, or what the fuck is going on at all. And apparently know, there's question of whether Francisco even painted these - otherwise it would be a jealous son or even grandson. Creepier and creepier. All I know is, that painting hits me, in a way I almost dislike to like.
As for my condo, light blue is going to be fine.
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