Chthonian Deity Watching over the Sleep of a Young Man, 1946
​​
According to the Greek Sphinx—a beast with a woman's face, a lion’s body and bird’s wings—a person walks on four, two, and three legs throughout the rise and dawn of their existence. The reason for the fluctuating number lies in the process of aging, rather than the state of alcoholic intoxication or, as Steven Berkoff’s character from the satirical play “Greek” claims, an erection.
When Oedipus, the tragic hero of Sophocles, known to us especially well by virtue of Zigmund Freud and his obsession with family relationships, solves the Sphinx's riddle, she throws herself from a high rock and perishes.
The Sphinx is not the only female figure to die tragically in the Hellenistic canon. Women in Greek mythology are frequently portrayed as scapegoats. Constantly abused and coerced, they undergo horrendous body modification, some turning into trees, others into monsters. Many become villains and are killed by a hero, reduced to nothing more than a tally in his list of Labors.
Leonor Fini’s “Chthonian Deity Watching over the Sleep of a Young Man” disrupts the power dynamic, subverting the canonical roles. Her Oedipus uses neither of his legs. He isn’t looming over the creature, staring it down with a contemptuous gaze like Gustave Moreau’s hero. He doesn’t feign indifference along with an idle curiosity like Ingres’ Oedipus. Instead, he lies stretched on the blankets, eyes closed, a shawl over his genitals. Relaxed muscles on his face, the absence of wrinkles and smooth shimmering skin hints at an ingenious youth, unburdened by wisdom and free of the crimes he has committed and is yet to commit. His open, defenseless pose and the dimly lit foreground radiate safety, until our eyes catch a glimpse of a woman deity, watching over his unruffled sleep. Immediately, the serenity crumbles, bringing forth a sense of exposure and vulnerability.
She is a chthonian deity. The woman in this painting and the Sphinx share many features, but they are also completely different. This woman is a goddess, not a vile beast. She has the grace of a lioness, a godly posture and gaze, full of sacred knowledge. Her dark skin makes her figure blend in with the dim background. Nevertheless, it is where our sight always travels, as if lured by a charming flute—towards her in the shadows. Oedipus is open and exposed in front of us, lit by the moonlight, but he is barely interesting. The powerful and mysterious presence in the back is what attracts attention.
​
Leonor Fini was an Argentine-Italian painter and designer and one of the most influential women artists of the 20th century. She is often associated with the surrealist movement because of the dreamlike quality of her art and her numerous collaborations with other surrealist artists, such as Max Ernst, Salvador Dalí, and Man Ray. Her art merged the surrealist view on eroticism, magical realism, the androgynous male image, and the dominance of female representation. Her paintings are full of mysterious creatures, fascinating narratives, and emotion. They are subtle and elegant, yet powerful in their message.
​
However, Fini always opposed being placed on the same page as the Surrealists. She didn’t want to be associated with the movement, whose leader, poet André Breton, constantly reduced the role of women in art. She strove for independence and a unique approach. Her style is very distinct, glamorous, and at times extravagant—a reflection of her internal world, as Fini would often say.
​
In this painting, Leonor Fini depicts her vision of the classical plot. The sleeping beauty is the man, and sleep is a deceitful and treacherous pleasure. It is an unaffordable luxury for kings, as was proven multiple times by Shakespeare’s favorite trope of being “slain in his sleep.” There is no alertness or clarity of mind in a dreaming state, just the sweet ignorance of the unconscious—a state where one is most vulnerable. The fate of this Oedipus is fully in the deity’s ethereal arms.
