There’s no nice way to put it: in medieval art, babies were pretty damn ugly.
But why?
It’s not because artists hadn’t worked out how to paint them properly – in fact, this was a deliberate stylistic choice… In medieval artwork, one baby popped up a whole lot more than the others: Jesus Christ.
There was a popular notion that Jesus was born “perfectly formed” and remained “unchanged” over time; this led to artists depicting him as a sort of weird little old man – and influenced portrayals of other babies too!
This all changed with the dawn of the Renaissance, and a new emphasis on realism in art.
Plus, as artists began to embrace non-religious subjects, wealthy patrons could commission portraits of their own families – and they didn’t want their own children looking like little old men!
So, ugly babies were out and cute babies were in. Way less disturbing, but nowhere near as fun…
Around 1485, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici commissioned Botticelli to paint Venus for his villa. This was revolutionary and risky. For nearly a thousand years, the Catholic Church had banned depictions of nude pagan gods.
The painting depicts the moment Venus, goddess of love and beauty, is born from the sea foam created when the Titan Kronos castrated his father Uranus and threw his genitals into the ocean… yes, really. She stands in a giant scallop shell, blown to shore by wind gods while a nymph rushes to cover her nudity with a flowered cloak.
Botticelli made Venus impossibly beautiful, but also strangely modest: her hand strategically placed, her pose deriving from ancient Venus pudica (or “modest Venus”) sculptures. He was painting paganism but with Christian sensibility, a precarious balance.
Everything changed when Girolamo Savonarola, a fire-and-brimstone Dominican friar, seized control of Florence in 1494. He believed Renaissance art was corrupting souls, and called for the destruction of anything deemed sinful: books, cosmetics, musical instruments, mirrors, and especially "immoral" paintings.
On February 7, 1497, Savonarola organized the Bonfire of the Vanities in Florence's Piazza della Signoria. Citizens were urged to throw vanity items into massive pyres. Thousands of artworks burned. Paintings depicting mythological scenes, exactly like Botticelli's Venus, were primary targets.
Botticelli himself fell under Savonarola's spell. The artist became a follower, destroying some of his own paintings and adopting a more severe religious style.
But Birth of Venus survived. The Medici family, though temporarily exiled, hid their art collection. Venus was tucked away in the villa at Castello, too valuable to destroy but too controversial to display. For over 300 years, only the Medici inner circle saw the painting.
During this time, the painting's meaning was reinterpreted. Medici scholars argued Venus represented divine love, not earthly lust. The west wind blowing her to shore symbolized spiritual inspiration. The nymph's cloak represented the soul covering the body. With enough intellectual gymnastics, pagan nudity became Christian allegory.
It wasn't until 1815 that Birth of Venus moved to the Uffizi Gallery. Even then, it was kept in the tribune: a restricted room visitors needed special permission to enter. Women were often denied access; the nudity was considered too corrupting.
The painting was damaged while in storage: water spots, darkened varnish, paint loss along the seams. Major restorations in the 20th century revealed Botticelli's original colours: Venus's skin luminous and pale, the sea a brilliant blue-green, the flowers impossibly detailed.
Today, Birth of Venus is one of the most famous and recognisable paintings in the world, reproduced on everything from coffee mugs to album covers. Andy Warhol made screen prints; Lady Gaga recreated the pose. It's appeared in hundreds of advertisements.
The painting that was once too scandalous to show publicly is now so ubiquitous we've forgotten how revolutionary it was. Four million people visit the Uffizi annually, and most come specifically to see Venus. The painting that should have burned in 1497 instead became immortal.
There’s no nice way to put it: in medieval art, babies were pretty damn ugly.
But why?
It’s not because artists hadn’t worked out how to paint them properly – in fact, this was a deliberate stylistic choice… In medieval artwork, one baby popped up a whole lot more than the others: Jesus Christ.
There was a popular notion that Jesus was born “perfectly formed” and remained “unchanged” over time; this led to artists depicting him as a sort of weird little old man – and influenced portrayals of other babies too!
This all changed with the dawn of the Renaissance, and a new emphasis on realism in art.
Plus, as artists began to embrace non-religious subjects, wealthy patrons could commission portraits of their own families – and they didn’t want their own children looking like little old men!
So, ugly babies were out and cute babies were in. Way less disturbing, but nowhere near as fun…
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