how much are beats by dre headphones Rated Trends You Never Noticed in Famous Art
Body hack: Attain a groin face, use it as a pouch.
The whole faces for dongs thing one guy namely, the massively influential painter Giotto, and his Last Judgment fresco for the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua. Giotto’s inspired spin on hell is largely gluttony based, with dragons swallowing sinners whole while demons gobble up their genitals. At the center of all this is Satan himself, chomping on one sinner while simultaneously . evacuating another:
Giotto borrowed the Hungry Lucifer theme from , but the genital flourish was all his own.
There’s actually a method to this particular madness: The creepy oral genitals deliberately bring a ). However, other artists didn’t always catch on to the finer nuances of Giotto’s invention, and the religious art of the era wound up using the crotch face as handy visual shorthand for “demon,” much like halos represent angels.
That’s a 17th century print by the French artist Nicolas Poussin. The depicted murder ghost is actually , a holy man who was beheaded, after which legend insists he picked his head up and carried it for miles, preaching the whole way via his disembodied mouth.
See, that’s the thing about saints: They’re all about weird miracles and horrible deaths, so when artists paint them, that’s what ends up on the canvas. These gruesome pieces took the public’s mind out of their own grim lives by reminding them someone had trudged through an even bigger river of shit, which is why they were all the rage in the old days. Here’s St. Erasmus enjoying his death by disembowelment:
He waxed and oiled himself for the occasion.
This is due to a series of wacky translation errors in the Bible itself (in other news, there are unicorns in the Bible). A major problem with the holy book has always been that its texts have been translated into a multitude of languages, and the translators have often been forced to take liberties that sometimes turn the translated text into a weird Hollywood adaptation of the original. That’s how a simple mistranslation gave Moses a pair of horns, and that’s how Jesus wound up spending a few hundred years as every preteen girl’s favorite fictional animal.
Here’s how it happened: The Greek translators of the Hebrew Bible were having a hard time identifying an animal the original text called a “reem.” They knew that the animal had horns but couldn’t be a goat. So, possibly because the workday was almost over and the happy hour was just about to start, they just translated it into “monoceros,” one horn. Sadly, the world would never experience the awesomeness of Rhino Jesus, as the Greek monoceros was further translated to the Latin “unicornis.” The artists took one look at that shit and, because babies and bearded dudes get really boring to paint after a while, declared: “Yep, Jesus is now a unicorn, too.”
The implications for the whole Nativity story are best left unexplored.
We see a dying, brutalized Lamb of God, using his last strength to bleed out in a cup for people to drink and enjoy. That’s . pretty gross, but at least it’s sort of consistent with the Christian notion about Jesus’ blood being a big deal. Over time, this evolved into something straight out of Hannibal Lecter’s recipe book: Take one Christ,
take one winepress, squeeze Christ into wine.
You know that old, old visual pun where a kid leafs through a nudie magazine in class by hiding it in a history textbook? Because we should burn the very concept of that joke to the ground and replace it with an even older one, straight from the Middle Ages:
You know what that is, and yes, it’s in a prayer book.
Images like this are plentiful in manuscripts and devotional books of the era, when were popular subjects. Somehow, the artists behind these precious works convinced their patrons that the disembodied labia you see in the picture above (and below) represent the spear wound Christ received in his side during crucifixion, and started drawing it all over the place.
Historians are pretty sure the people who drew these things were well aware of the resemblance. In fact, some argue that it was the point: Because the side wound was seen as a way into Christ’s heart, it was a very important aspect in Christianity and believers visualize themselves communing with the wound (presumably they added a spear of their own to this visual image). No matter how pious and chaste you are, there’s only so much innuendo the world can pile in front of you before you take the obvious route.
Here’s the thing about bunnies: They’re adorable. Being cute and fluffy is their entire schtick, which is why it works so well when Bugs Bunny starts wrecking shit or the Beast of Caerbannog in Monty Python and the Holy Grail turns out to be a fluffy rabbit that just happens to be made out of murder. Medieval artists knew this too:
“It’s better this way. You don’t want to be alive for what I’m going to do after.”
Rather than overpopulate the pages of children’s storybooks, Medieval rabbits wreaked all sorts of sociopathic havoc on the margins of various writings. For instance, a manuscript known as The Smithfield Decretals boasts that unfold like gruesome flip books at the bottom of several pages. In one, a gang of no good hares capture a hapless human. In the other one, far more convoluted than any episode of Law Order, they shoot a hound, tie him up, take him to animal court, and condemn him to hang. The hares finish their power trip by thumbing their nose at the dead dog.
What, you thought we were kidding?
Thanks in part to Henry VIII king, lover, and innovator in the field of ornate cock coverings powerful leaders in the 15th and 16th centuries were all about the codpiece. It had a humble start as a triangular piece of cloth connecting the top and bottom parts of a man’s outfit, but the unfortunate tides of fashion soon turned it into a very specific tool in dick measuring contests that especially manifested itself in the ridiculously bulging portraits of the era.
However, believe the length and girth of codpieces grew not just because leaders wanted to advertise but because the giant, erect cloth sack was the only way these powerful men could deal with the first great syphilis epidemic.
“If that thing gets any fucking closer to my face you won’t have to worry about STDs anymore.”
The only way to treat the symptoms of syphilis back then was to apply soothing ointments and pack soft bandages around those genitals. This left an enormous bulge that the sick person couldn’t exactly conceal. Which proved problematic, as it was extremely important for a man of power to be seen out and about, lest his enemies start conspiring. If only there was some way to pack up your swollen, festering junk, all wrapped up in bandages and lathered in staining, red ointment, in a way that is socially acceptable .