Mora

The Minotaur by Jordi Garriga Mora (2007)

Greek mythology has some of the most memorable monsters — centaurs, cyclopes, gorgons, sirens, harpies, and more. They are instantly recognizable and still capture our imaginations thousands of years later. Many provided worthy adversaries for the great Greek heroes to prove themselves. Herakles killed several during his Twelve Labors. Oedipus outsmarted the Sphynx. Odysseus defeated Polyphemus the Cyclops, survived the sirens, and bypassed Sylla and Charybdis (at the cost of six of his men). Perseus killed Medusa and Theseus killed the Minotaur. Some were true beasts who threatened humanity and had to be stopped. Medusa and the Minotaur were tragic victims who suffered for the crimes of others.

According to myth, Minos, King of Crete, insulted the sea god Poseidon. As punishment, the god caused Minos’ queen to fall in love and mate with the king’s prized bull. Later, she gave birth to the Minotaur, a hideous, man-eating monster with a human body but head and tail of a bull. Appalled, Minos imprisoned the creature in a seemingly unbeatable maze called the Labyrinth. Sometime later, Crete won a war against Athens, who had to send a tribute of seven boys and seven girls to Crete to feed the creature. With the help of Minos’ daughter, Theseus, one of the young Athenians, was able to find his way through the maze, kill the Minotaur, and get return.

The battle between Theseus and the Minotaur was a popular subject in ancient Greek art. It represented the conflict between the natural and unnatural. Theseus would become one of the great heroes of Athenian culture. In later centuries, artists such as Antonio Canova and Pablo Picasso would see the myth as representing the fight between civilization and barbarism.

Named Asterion after Minos’ father by its — his — mother, she attempted to tie or graft the creature into the family. She loved him, but it didn’t last. He was eventually seized and thrown into the Labyrinth. The only human contact he received after that was his victims.

In this painting, I think Jordi Mora is looking at the Minotaur from this human angle. He sits atop a column, high above his prison, looking out. I can imagine him making this climb often — to find some escape from his existence. But all he sees is the vast maze and the empty expanse of the ocean beyond. No city. No people. No family. He is trapped forever and completely alone.

For me, the most powerful part of this painting is his body language. Asterion just sits there, staring out at a world he’ll never know. He slouches with his arms hanging limply down. If you enlarge the work and look closely, you can see a slight correction.

Mora changed the angle of the Minotaur’s head. He used to look down. Now he looks out. In my opinion, this changes the mood of the piece. When the creature’s head hangs down, I can almost hear his sighs and sobs. With the correction, with his head up, there is nothing. Asterion just stares out. Instead, I see deep, deep loneliness and sadness. I think the flat blackness of his form represents this. Other objects in the painting have dimension and mass. Not him. He is a flat, minotaur-shaped void in the canvas. He is emptiness.

Mora painted many variations of this theme. Other versions are more colorful or have more detail. One excludes the Minotaur completely. This is the one that grabbed me, however. To me, this one works. It’s so sad. I think color is a major factor in how that mood is formed. Red could hint at the myth’s bloodiness, the red-hot anger of Poseidon, and the lust of the creature’s origin. I think it represents the Minotaur himself more. The rusty red of the painting is heavy and dark. The sun barely shines through it. There is no brightness or warmth. The red sky feels like a wall. He is trapped, alone and unloved. Any light in Asterion’s world is dim, cold, and far away. His existence is a curse.

The present location of this artwork is unknown.