by John Gorman

Artwork Description

Nymphs, Faun, Dionysos

0.0 x 0.0

Nymphs, Faun, Dionysos. 20×20cm, black pencil on paper A fragmentary sketch of a frame more or less circumscribes this composition, within which various characters can be seen or heard. At the upper left end, two semi-human faces, devoid of body, except for a fragment of arm and hand as a palm leaf that establishes a link with the figure at the bottom of the composition, are as if melted into a mass of tormented black pigment. The lines here are stiff, rough, vertical or oblique, and encircle them. This is the realm of darkness in which these nymphs, as the title of the work indicates, move. Almost in the centre and at the bottom of the composition, one of their companions assumes a human form. At least for the upper part of her body, her head and face seen in profile, her right eye, her small pointed nose and her silent mouth are apparent. A more blurred line defines her straight shoulder and her arm, roughly represented, as her breast, as well as her hand, feeling, uncertain, an invisible surface, as if frightened in advance at the idea of getting burned. The rest of her body dissolves into a few frank, chopped, brutal lines, one of them even piercing her arm. But what is this line other than the one that also defines the faun’s buttocks on the right? The latter, turning his back to the stage, naked but partially dressed in a costume similar to Nijinsky’s, is standing with his legs spread apart, his right arm made of inextricably intertwined lines and dangling along his right flank. His head has two small horns, as is customary. In spite of these more or less decipherable elements, the composition is not as easy to decipher as it seems. The title clearly mentions the presence here of Dyonisos, and what is it about this gigantic muffle, oversized in comparison with the other figures, these foaming nostrils, this tortuous eye with drooping eyelid, which, if one looks more closely, borrows from each being a little of his own? For from this appearance is born the whole scene, from this horrific muffle, and from the lines that define it, are born all the other lines. The indeterminate form we see to the left of the main nymph, but what is it? She seems to have sad eyes and a long pensive muzzle… Is it an emanation of the god? A guest at his celebration? What is to be admired here is the fact that everything is intertwined and seems inexorably confused and linked. Despite the characters’ acquiescence. It is the artist’s will alone that invented this mutant god for them, making them mutate in their turn, and thereby transforming a classic bacchanalian scene into a sinister Goya-style dark caprice, with a nod to Picasso, to all the myths of ancient Greece, and then to Roman myths. And what could be less joyful and more devoid of ardour and fervour than this celebration of the god than this scene of deep sadness and despair? John Gorman’s famous line is transformed once again before the spectator’s eyes: here, no arabesques, no music, except perhaps a slow de profundis, accompanying the powerful strings of these lost figures. Delphine Costedoat

Artwork Details

Medium: Drawing Other

Genre: Figurative