The Punishment of Lust

Two women float across the picture. They lie in the air, horizontal, their robes hanging heavily; their long reddish-brown hair trails downwards and becomes entangled in the bare branches of a tree. Behind them lies a dark strip of woodland, above it the snow-capped Alps in the fading light, and in front of them an empty expanse of snow. The landscape remains serene. The subject is not. Segantini painted this in 1891, based on the poem ‘Nirvana’ by Luigi Illica; the painting is one of his early Symbolist works and now hangs in the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool. Here, the punishment consists not of fire, but of cold and weightlessness - the women drift through a high valley that offers no foothold. I am fascinated by the contradiction: the scene is intended to be sombre, yet it appears almost peaceful. Segantini’s Divisionist style contributes to this - the placement of many fine strokes of colour side by side, which lends the snow and the sky a shimmering, silvery light.

It is precisely this strand of hair that defines this work. Seen up close, the reddish-brown hair of the figure in the foreground breaks up into individual, winding strands that stand out against the snow as if drawn - every curl remains distinct, right up to the point where it vanishes into the dark band of woodland. The many short strokes of colour on the mountain slopes also stand out individually; nothing blurs into a grey mush. The print is mounted on Leonardo, a satin-finished canvas, stretched on a stretcher frame measuring 68 x 39 cm; along the side edges, the motif continues in a mirrored image; an additional frame has been deliberately omitted, and at the back, a serrated hanging hook ensures it is securely fastened to the wall. This open design suits the picture. Without a border, the snowy expanse simply ends at the edge, and the sense of floating in the scene is continued by the freestanding canvas. The landscape format further stretches the composition outwards - the viewer’s gaze wanders along the figures as if along a frieze. At first you walk past, but then you stop because there is something drifting through the air that doesn’t belong there. A picture that doesn’t need to be loud to make its mark in the room.