Leda And The Swan Analysis

Abstract Expressionism refers to a post-World War II art movement that flourished in New York City in the mid-1940s. The climate of Cold War politics and sociocultural conservatism led many artists to start the movement fitted to a post-war mood of anxiety and trauma. These artists resisted being defined by a cohesive, binding style; instead, they shared an interest in using abstraction to convey strong emotional or expressive content. Much of their work was non-representational and was more focused on the usage of color, technique and form. Cy Twombly, an American artist whose work emerged in 1950s Europe, was one such abstractionist. Many of his works were reflections on, responses to, and re-workings of the ancient Greco-Roman histories that surrounded him. In 1962, he created a cycle of paintings based on the Greek myth Leda and the Swan. The most renowned and intense of these paintings is on view in New York’s The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). Unlike other artistic renditions of the myth- such as W.B. Yeats’ Leda and the Swan- the painting bypasses representation. It instead relies on Twombly’s unique artistic form and content to suggest to viewers the underlying narratives of the

painting. This paper discusses how Cy Twombly brings to bear the themes of a Greek myth through Abstract Expressionism and discusses the role that curatorial elements and other artistic representations- specifically W.B. Yeats’ poem Leda and the Swan- aid in deciphering his unique artistry.
Leda and the Swan by Cy Twombly is intended to catch visitors of The MoMA by surprise. The piece, which at first glance resembles scribble-work of toddlers, has the impact of confusing and disorientating viewers. Twombly combines diverse media- namely oil, pencil, and crayon- to produce violent, forceful swirls, scratches and zig-zags that fly out in all directions. The repetition of these haphazard shapes informs a mood of chaos. Amidst these graffiti-like elements, Twombly incorporates recognizable hearts, a phallus, and a window-like rectangle. The seemingly unpolished lines and unorganized designs have a definite infantile character to them. The frantic movement of the content suggests that this work was produced in a rush, without reliance on any contemporary imagery or iconography. Furthermore, Twombly’s restrained work of color is exquisite. The color scheme comprises of whites, blacks, greys, and occasional intense reds and mild blues, yellows, and oranges. The piece is nothing without the glorious and harmonious intermingling of these colors. The red, black, and grey are the main protagonists on a stage of somber white. Twombly has introduced a level of rivalry between the colors: at certain parts the blacks and greys are dominant and at others the blue or red. The different layers of zig-zags and swirls also bring out the tussles between the colors. This distressful color scheme, together with the collision of the diverse media, furnishes important information on the intentions of the artist. This is clearly a work of drama and passion. These are indeed scribbles, but they’re thought provoking, energetic, furious, meaningful scribbles. They are equal parts symphonic and chaotic, and the intrigued viewers are forced to wonder how and why. They are held at the cusp of wanting to understand the premise of the piece, but are not quite able to.
The unusual, unprecedented nature of the content of the painting along with its strategic emplacement has the intent of fostering curiosity. The curator of the museum has intentionally placed the piece in a box-like room wherein it takes up an entire wall. The room in which it is placed serves as an entrance into the Abstract Expressionism department of the museum. It is the only painting in the entire department that is placed in isolation within the confines of four walls. In spite of the atypical content of the piece, standard lighting and iconography is used to display and introduce it. This is done intentionally so on the part of the museum, which disregards the usage of any curatorial cues so as to stimulate the surprise element that the painting demands. The viewers are, in essence, deliberately led to and then trapped in front of this large, overpowering piece that does not seem to follow any particular frame or orthodox form. The size of the room allows them to distance themselves from the piece in order to fully absorb its essence. The clean white walls that surround the painting are meant to not only intimidate the viewers but to highlight the piece itself; with not much to be distracted by, viewers are compelled to concentrate exclusively on Twombly and the painterly aspects of his scribbles i.e., his lines, shapes, colors, texture, etc. What could be dubbed as a minor attempt at promoting Stendhal Syndrome, the curator successfully uses design to fashion a level of anguish surrounding the painting. Most viewers are humored by the childlike drawings and move on, while others are intrigued by the familiar classical title and question its significance. As the most oft-depicted swan motif in the history of art, Zeus’ (the most powerful of the Greek gods) “seduction” of Leda is frequently in existence in well-renowned museums. Rich in symbolic possibilities, this Greek theme has inspired scores of artists to heights of visual poetry and understandable flights of eroticism. Among these is the distinguished sonnet by W.B. Yeats, which combines psychological realism and mystic vision in its description of the swan’s (Zeus) rape of Leda. In it, the poet uses powerful and evocative language that manages to imagine such a bizarre phenomenon as a massive swan raping a woman. When used as a lens for translating the themes present in Twombly’s painting, Yeats’ bold retelling proves as a guiding light for those not well read on the original myth in question.
Yeats’ poem follows a big white swan clocking a young woman and knocking her off balance. The swan beats its wings ferociously as it lands on top of her and caresses her. The woman, Leda, is unable to escape as the swan presses his chest against her own. The fast-moving bird on top of her looks like a blur of feathers, and she can hear its heart beating. The swan opens Leda’s thighs and impregnates her. A similar sensory impact and boldness is evident in Twombly’s painting; the two disparate works of art by different artists somehow perfectly reconcile the emotions they intend to convey. His abstract version of the Greek myth on Leda’s rape is a powerful visual evocation of motion. What at first would appear to be childlike in his scrawls and smears will often reveal itself to be phallic, bloody, or relating to bodily fluids. His depiction of Leda and the Swan is not a charming pastel image of a swan caressing a nude woman, it's the raw aftermath of a struggle, of a fight, of a rape. It is a pictorial depiction of the scene, or of the feelings of Leda during the rape, or both. The piece is as much of a frenzy as is the rape in Yeats’ poem, and viewers are required to feel the overwhelm of Leda during her rape. With that in mind, the window on the top of the painting perhaps serves as a window into her struggle. Viewers, due to the strategic design on part of the curator and the unusual content of the painting, experience a “sudden blow” (Yeats, 1). They are confused and unexpecting, as is Leda. The beak, blood, hearts, and flashing feathers embedded in Twombly’s work suddenly become apparent. Viewers feel the “great wings beating”, the “strange heart beating”, the “white rush” the “terrified” helplessness, and all the flurry of activity inherent in the act of rape (5-8). The black swirls and zig-zags in Twombly’s painting add to the frenzy, visualizing the “dark webs” and “burning” fire (3, 10). The two hearts pictured together at the top of the painting speak to the conjoining of the swan and Leda’s chests (4). Viewers are left “scattered” with several thoughts, and upon probing are able to see the visible visualization of a feeling of rape, or more generally, of betrayal.
In Twombly’s painting, we are unable to properly distinguish between the swan and Leda. This is perhaps because Twombly’s interpretation of the rape is such that the two bodies are so intertwined and fast-moving that it is difficult to discern where one begins and the other ends. On a literal note, this speaks to the thought that Zeus takes the form of a swan when raping Leda. Then too, it is challenging to separate his noble, humanistic qualities from his cruel, animalistic ones. As a human animal, albeit with godlike qualities, Zeus is able to substitute as a non-human animal. He takes the form of a swan, which is a symbol of trust, elegance and beauty, to create a larger sense of confusion, betrayal and irony. It is only his innate human substance that allows him to assert dominion over the still human Leda as an animal. This is because only human animals can be actors and spectators, a swan in and of itself would not have had the rationality and contingency of self to orchestrate Leda’s rape. Because the art of lying and acting allows human animals to disassociate their identity, Zeus took the form of a swan (that is, acted) in order to perform the rape whilst remaining dominating and godlike, but not within his own physical identity. As the most powerful of Greek gods, this “performance” was not questionable; Zeus had the liberty to do as he pleased irrespective of ethics. Similarly, Twombly did as he pleased in his personal depiction of this myth regardless of criticism and dictating norms of art before the rise of the Abstract Expressionist movement.
Twombly’s work is the results of raw impulse mediated with his devotion to his subjects i.e. Leda and the swan and their shared experience. As in much of his work, Twombly transformed an ancient myth by becoming the swan by ravaging the canvas and Leda by creating disorientation and anguish. His painting is simultaneously about nothing – and about everything. As art critic Roberta Smith has commented, “the crux of his achievement was not so much to overturn [Abstract Expressionism], but to connect Abstract Expressionism to other forms of culture” (Smith, An Artist of Selective Abandon).
Cy Twombly’s work is chaotic.

It is confusing, confounding, and captivating. Leda and the Swan is the epitome of Twombly’s ability to assume the role of his subject through Abstract Expressionist art. A reading of the work on the same myth by W.B. Yeats proves that art is, albeit subjective, universally felt. Both artists managed to make of Leda’s plight in disparate but equally powerful ways. Where Yeats relied on the literal translation of words, Twombly communicated anguish through mayhem and havoc. His piece, presented to intentionally ambush viewers, is eminent of his belief that strong representation is not needed to evoke universal themes of sadness, struggle, and helplessness. Twombly perhaps says it best himself: “the meaning of the work is in the doing of it” (Ulaby,

NPR).