Worldbuilding Magazine: Gender Dynamics in Art
This article was first featured in Worldbuilding Magazine, a volunteer-run and free-to-download magazine filled with tips, interviews, and inspiration for worldbuilders of all kinds.
Art, in most cases, reflects the culture that created it. One of the more fascinating aspects of cultures is how they treat divides (or lack thereof) between genders. This detail may not seem as attractive as setting up your magic system or alien species, but it is just as important to creating a realistic world. Just as we need to make decisions on how magic functions, we should understand how people in a culture interact with one another. People view interactions between people of assigned (or self-assigned) genders in different ways, and it can be helpful to see how that’s been addressed throughout history.
In an effort to consider this question of how art displays gender roles and ideas, I’ll turn to our most valuable source: our own history. We’ll look at parts of Europe, Central America, and Africa in our quest to glean some insight from real cultures that displayed gender dynamics through their art and how that work influences what we know about them.
The Palace at Knossos
The Minoans lived on Crete, and a few other Aegean islands, and flourished during the Middle Bronze Age (from approximately 2000 BCE-1500 BCE). Fantasy or mythology fans may notice that the name is quite similar to the term minotaur, which has its roots in Crete and King Minos — but that’s a story for another time.
The palace at Knossos, Crete is striking for its mural paintings. These frescoes, though faded and cracked, are brilliantly colorful. The Rhyton-Bearer mural was found in the South Propylaeum, and dolphins swim on a mural in what may have been the queen’s quarters. Still more murals line the old palace’s walls. Bull-leaping (c.1400–1370 BCE), reconstructed and now in the Archeological Museum at Heraklion, once decorated the East Wing of the palace. It depicts a pastime that has been enjoyed throughout centuries and across many cultures — bull sports. The mural shows three people interacting with the titular bull: one grasping its horns, another leaping over it, and the last appears to have just dismounted. Their stylized forms are iconic of Minoan art, which was unique in the way it depicted people with pinched waists and long, curly hair.
A peculiar detail about this mural is that the figures are painted with both male and female characteristics. The Minoans followed ancient Egyptian conventions in art, wherein they painted women white and men a darker tan or brown. So, based on this, the left and right figures in Bull-leaping should be women — but they wear loincloths, a man’s dress. To further complicate things, all three figures’ hair is long and curly, which the Minoans used to depict both men and women. Perhaps this indicates gender crossing was not uncommon in Minoan culture, or that gender was a more fluid concept. However, this theory is, for now, just that. The situation is complicated by other works, such as the paintings on the Hagia Triada sarcophagus (c.1400 BCE), where the skin tones for men and women do not appear to divert from the established norm. Why two of the three men were painted white on the Bull-leaping mural, so far, is still a mystery.
Temple 23
Moving into the Common Era again, we find ourselves in present-day Mexico. Specifically, Yaxchilán, which was a major center of Classic Maya civilization. Located on the Usumacinta River in the Yucatán Peninsula, it flourished c.580–800 CE, likely thanks to trade that flowed along the river. From the ruins nearby, specifically Temple 23, we’ve found a number of carved lintels which help us understand Mayan culture. Lintels 24, 25, and 26 (c. 725 CE) depict a series of rituals being performed by the Mayan King Itzamma B’ahlam II (hereafter referred to by his more common title “Shield Jaguar”) and his Queen, Lady Xoc. From these carvings we can infer some of the duties the pair had as leaders of the Mayan people. For example, in Lintel 24, we see Lady Xoc “outfitted in elaborate woven garment, headdress, and jewels. With a barbed cord she pierces her tongue in a bloodletting ceremony that, according to accompanying inscriptions, celebrated the birth of a son to one of the ruler’s other wives as well as an alignment between the planets Saturn and Jupiter…These ceremonies induced an altered state of consciousness in order to connect the bloodletter with the supernatural world.” We see the result of this ritual illustrated in Lintel 25, where Lady Xoc has a vision of an ancestor.
From just a few carvings, we’ve already discovered a great deal about Mayan culture, belief, and the roles of king and queen. From the images and accompanying inscriptions beside them, we learned the meaning of the bloodletting ritual, and that a Mayan Queen had responsibilities in such ceremonies. In addition, we can infer that the King took on multiple wives, painting a picture of what their social structure was like. The glyphs on Lintel 24 note Lady Xoc’s title, and they even state that the bloodletting occurred on October 28th, 709 CE.
Northern Europe
Perhaps the greatest 17th-century Flemish painter was Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640) who “built on the innovations of the Italian Renaissance and Baroque masters to formulate the first truly pan-European painting style.” Many of Rubens’ works were religious in nature, painted at the pleasure of his wealthy and pious commissioners. For example, he painted 21 large canvases which glorified Marie de’ Medici’s career (who wed King Henry IV of France and reigned as queen until he was assassinated in 1610). Late in his career, just a year or two before his own death in 1640, Rubens completed Consequences of War. Two years prior, he wrote a letter explaining his work to its commissioner, Fernando II de’ Medici.
Rubens strove for peace during his life, though war existed all around him. In creating Consequences of War (c.1638–1639 CE), the artist sought to express his distaste toward the Thirty Years’ War (which lasted from 1618–1648). However, rather than discuss the elegant fluidity of motion represented here, or even his depiction of war being pulled in both directions, I would instead like to explore the issue of gender roles on display in Rubens’ work. Although not perhaps an intended message, Rubens did give us a glimpse at how men and women were viewed when the painting was made. Note the genders of the figures involved — whether they were related to religion or not — and we can see a vision of his world.
The important aspects to consider from Rubens’ letter are these: Mars, Venus, Harmony, the mother with the child, and the architect. Firstly, let us consider Rubens’ statements regarding the divine figures of this painting:
The principal figure is Mars, who has left the open temple of Janus (which in time of peace, according to Roman custom, remained closed) and rushes forth with shield and blood-stained sword, threatening the people with great disaster. He pays little heed to Venus, his mistress, who, accompanied by Amors and Cupids, strives with caresses and embraces to hold him. From the other side, Mars is dragged forward by the Fury Alekto, with a torch in her hand. Near by are monsters personifying Pestilence and Famine, those inseparable partners of War.
Mars, also referred to as War, is a man with a bloodied blade who tramples on letters. He is being called to make war just as his mistress, Venus, tries to pull him in the other direction. While he is clad in armor and steps with confidence, she is nude, save for the cloth that conveniently drapes over her waist and leg. She does not pull Mars back with strength, but as Rubens said, she “strives with caresses and embraces to hold him.” A case could be made that these are simply characteristics of Mars and Venus, though we could also point to this as a demonstration of how men and women were depicted differently in Northern European art.
Rather than stress that point, though, it may be better to look at the other figures in this piece. While an argument could certainly be made, Mars’s and Venus’ natures as mythological figures certainly give pause to any assertions of them representing men/women in Europe.
On the ground, turning her back, lies a woman with a broken lute, representing Harmony, which is incompatible with the discord of War. There is also a mother with her child in her arms, indicating that fecundity, procreation, and charity are thwarted by War, which corrupts and destroys everything. In addition, one sees an architect thrown on his back, with his instruments in his hand, to show that which in time of peace is constructed for the use and ornamentation of the City, is hurled to the ground by the force of arms and falls to ruin.
Harmony — the representation of her as a topless woman with a broken lute — is an interesting image. Rubens described her as “incompatible with the discord of War,” which we can certainly see by the way he is about to trample over her, Harmony being defenseless to stop this. Similarly, we see Mars bearing over the mother and child. Interestingly, in this part of the work, Rubens says “that [she indicates] fecundity, procreation, and charity are thwarted by War.” Thus, we are confronted with an image of women representing harmony, procreation, and charity (if we consider Venus, we may be able to include love or seduction into the mix). In contrast, the sole man among those in Mars’ path, the architect, is described as “thrown on his back, with his instruments in his hand, [and] … is hurled to the ground by the force of arms and falls to ruin.” It is unfortunate we have no other examples of mortal men in this image, but we could decipher this as men being associated with work, labor, art, and similarly, harmony (since his tools were intended for peacetime).
Consequences of War is most certainly an anti-war painting, though it is not terribly difficult to see how he assigned men and women to the scene. Women represent gentleness, love, and procreation. Men represent action, be they the architect (who is the only figure defined by his work), or the more celestial figures of Mars, Pestilence, or Famine (who are causing the action in the scene).
African Masquerades
Art in Africa has historically been quite gendered. Men were the primary architects, carvers, smiths, and alloy-casters. Women were the primary painters (wall and body), decorators, potters, and often clay sculptors. The two overlap in textiles, beads, and weaving. Although the gendered divisions are generally less prominent today in the early 21st century, the aforementioned specialties remain mostly true. This is not to say that the men and women do not cooperate; it is quite the opposite. If something, such as a mask, must be carved then painted, the men will carve it and collaborate with the women who will later paint the object. It has been this way for a long time, and though it is less severe today, elements of the old ways remain deeply rooted in the many African peoples. Interestingly, Mende women are the only group who don masks of their own. Traditionally, men are the only ones who actually perform with them in masquerades. We see this gendered division in cultures such as the Kuba peoples of the Democratic Republic of Congo, the Samburu of eastern Africa, and many others.
At the court of Kuba are three masks — Mwashamboy, Bwoom, and Ngady Amwaash — which each represent royal ancestors. They are made with wood, fabrics, beads, shells, and feathers set into colorful geometric patterns. At festivals, masqueraders will reenact creation legends involving the three. While the Ngady Amwaash mask is meant to honor and represent women, like most African cultures, only men will don the masks.
The Samburu are interesting due to the way they decorate their hair or bodies. Men, especially warriors who are unwed, will spend hours putting their hair in elaborate styles, paint their bodies with red ochre, and wear all manner of beaded jewelry made for them by women. Women will decorate themselves as well, adorning stacks of beaded collars and shaving their heads to don headbands instead. Much of this is done to convey information through their code of accessories: by looking at the way a person is dressed, you could ascertain information about their age, marital or initiation status, parentage, and more. The Samburu will wear masks and perform in them as well, but this more casual form of art in clothing — and communication of status through it — is just as important.
Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Guinea are all home to the aforementioned Mende, who are of particular note due to the way that women perform masquerades. Put in terms that are too simplified to do the Mende justice: there are two societies, the men’s (poro) and women’s (sande). Both aim to initiate boys and girls into manhood or womanhood, and both are “secret” in the sense that members of each gain knowledge they are only permitted to share with others among their society. Each society also partakes in donning ceremonial masks like this Sande Mask (c.1950 CE). They are chiefly made of wood, and carved by the men regardless of what society the mask is intended for. However, when a man is commissioned for a mask, they will often work collaboratively with the person who it is for — male or female. The particular mask shown here embodies Mende ideals of female attractiveness, as indicated by the high forehead, downcast eyes, and hairstyle. Men’s masks likewise accent favorable masculine traits.
Art in Worldbuilding
An explorer — we know this is his job since he’s got that classic explorer’s mustache — happens upon some ruins. Perhaps it’s decorated with old, decaying murals. As he rounds a corner, a face is staring at him and he leaps backward, only to discover a moment later that these are masks gazing blankly past him. He ventures forth, shaken but intrigued to see what lay deeper in these ruins.
But what if he didn’t? What might our explorer learn by taking a moment to look at the mural or pick up the masks? Should he truly examine these works of art, what would he learn about the place he’s wandering through? Would he find inconsistencies in how people are represented, or perhaps learn about a few significant rulers who once lived there? At no part of this haphazard attempt to define cultural gender roles through art did we only discuss gender roles. The concept of masculinity, femininity, and any other gendered concepts are tied to the greater culture of a people — this is why art is so important. Art tells us about people’s lives, as the Minoan murals do. Art tells stories, much like the Mayan carvings depict a story of Lady Xoc performing a ritual. Art conveys layers of meaning, just as Rubens did with his religious scenes. Art has purpose, as it helps continue tradition and guide the youth in African masquerade culture. So the next time you’re worldbuilding, stop to look at the paintings. Take a few minutes to consider how the culture who made them might have done it. Consider what the intent was. In the end, you’ll have richer cultures for doing so.
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Works Cited
“Bull-Leaping Fresco from the Palace of Knossos.” Khan Academy, Khan Academy, https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ancient-art-civilizations/aegean-art1/minoan/a/bull-leaping-fresco-from-the-palace-of-knossos. Accessed 6 December 2019.
Cartwright, Mark. “Yaxchilan.” Ancient History Encyclopedia, Ancient History Encyclopedia, 7 Feb. 2015, https://www.ancient.eu/Yaxchilan/. Accessed 6 December 2019.
“Hagia Triada Sarcophagus.” Khan Academy, Khan Academy, https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ancient-art-civilizations/aegean-art1/minoan/a/hagia-triada-sarcophagus. Accessed 6 December 2019.
Kleiner, Fred S. Gardner’s Art through the Ages: a Global History. 14th ed., book A, Wadsworth/Cengage Learning, 2013, p 91.
Kleiner, Fred S. Gardner’s Art through the Ages: a Global History. 14th ed., book C, Wadsworth/Cengage Learning, 2013, p 503.
Kleiner, Fred S. Gardner’s Art through the Ages: a Global History. 14th ed., book D, Wadsworth/Cengage Learning, 2013, p 697–700.
Kleiner, Fred S. Gardner’s Art through the Ages: a Global History. 14th ed., book F, Wadsworth/Cengage Learning, 2013, p 1070–7.
“Sande Mask, Mende.” Minneapolis Institute of Art, https://collections.artsmia.org/art/1937/sande-mask-mende. Accessed 6 December 2019.
“Yaxchilán-Lintels 24 and 25 from Structure 23 and Structures 33 and 40.” Khan Academy, Khan Academy, https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ap-art-history/indigenous-americas/a/yaxchilan-lintels. Accessed 6 December 2019.
