Ghosts, Witches, Monsters and Vampires in Art

Works by Quidor, Waterhouse, Levy-Dhurmer, Redon and Munch

Oct 10, 2009

The Headless Horseman, sorceresses, a quirky monster and a love vampire in artworks by John Quidor, John William Waterhouse, Lévy-Dhurmer, Odilon Redon and Edvard Munch.

While some artists are famed for their fine landscapes and portraits, perfect still-lifes or light-filled impressionistic scenes, others have preferred an occasional supernatural interlude or rendezvous with a darker muse.

John Quidor’s Headless Horseman

New Jersey-born John Quidor (1801-1881) was reportedly a bit on the eccentric side and not too fond of depicting pastoral settings like most of his contemporaries. His friendship with the famed writer Washington Irving inspired him to paint several Irving-inspired works instead, including The Money Diggers, The Return of Rip Van Winkle and the richly detailed 1858 The Headless Horseman Pursuing Ichabod Crane.

Quidor’s Ichabod Crane oil painting comes from Irving’s classic tale "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," wherein a skinny, skittish schoolteacher makes his way to a New York Hudson River town and ultimately finds himself pursued by an angry ghost — or an angry rival named Brom Bones. The Headless Horseman was said to be a Hessian soldier from Revolutionary War days who had had his head obliterated by a cannonball. When Ichabod sees a headless rider approaching, he takes off in terror and disappears. Quidor wonderfully captures the frantic Ichabod, the supposed phantom chasing him, along with the wild-eyed racing horses and Sleepy Hollow’s densely wooded background.

Waterhouse’s Magic Circle and Lévy-Dhurmer’s Sorceress

With his inclination toward mythic heroines or beauties gazing into crystal balls, it is not surprising that Pre-Raphaelite artist John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) painted his 1886 The Magic Circle. In Waterhouse’s work, a gypsy-like young woman stands before a cauldron in what seems to be an ancient or eternal land. She casts a circle to draw power to her magical workings while ravens gather around, and she is barefoot, signifying her connection to the earth just as the cauldron connects her with the fire element.

Lucien Lévy-Dhurmer (1865-1953) was an Algerian-born artist who spent most of his career in France. Lévy-Dhurmer’s style was ethereal and unique, as particularly illustrated in his pastel drawings. In the mystical pastel Sorceress, a pale woman hooded and gloved in black holds a vial before her. Bats flitter in the background, a black cat crouches on her shoulder, while a blue snake and newt slither upward in the eerie moonlight.

Odilon Redon’s The Monster

Like his fellow Symbolist Lévy-Dhurmer, Odilon Redon’s otherworldly visions heightened and transformed his work. Redon was born in 1840, later studying art with — and not particularly caring for — the French academic master Jean-Léon Gérôme. Redon was decades ahead of his time with such weirdly surrealistic drawings as Eye-Balloon and Swamp-Flower, yet he also produced beautifully colored dreamlike paintings of sailboats or vases of flowers, Biblical scenes, Christ, the Buddha, lovely fragile women and clearly anything that fascinated him.

Redon’s monster is a bald Nosferatu-like creature with human features and bat ears. Redon‘s use of the title The Monster is curiously ironic, however, because of the near-wistfulness of the monster’s face. He seems small and dejected, more likely to be pitied than feared, but still quite unnerving in appearance.

Edvard Munch’s The Vampire

Norwegian artist Edvard Munch (1863-1944) is best known for his painting The Scream, an iconic portrait of man’s personal hell. From an early age on, Munch grappled with poor health, intense emotions, depression and suicidal tendencies, though he did eventually undergo therapy, stopped drinking and lived to see his eightieth birthday.

Munch’s 1895 The Vampire — alternately titled Love and Pain — focuses on the concept of the female as a blood-sucking entity. A woman leans over a man who seems helpless and passive, her mouth perhaps ready to bite into the back of his neck. Her red hair is long and loose and looks like blood dripping over them both, this being the only vibrant color in an otherwise dark and claustrophobic scene. And though there are no visible fangs or traditional vampire gore, the then-tormented Munch definitely gave the impression that love can sometimes turn into a private horror show.

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The copyright of the article Ghosts, Witches, Monsters and Vampires in Art in Modern Art History is owned by Meg Nola. Permission to republish Ghosts, Witches, Monsters and Vampires in Art in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.