The ‘Real’ Meaning Behind These Famous Paintings

The second last one will surprise you. Actually, all of them will.

Jan 09, 2025

a closeup of a paint palette and brush — Daian Gan on Pexels

There are certain works of art that need no introduction. You’ve probably seen them a thousand times in magazines, on television, and on your ceiling as you’re trying to fall asleep.

However, sometimes all we know about a painting’s meaning is what’s scribbled about it some decaying historical text. Other times, we take a wild guess.

Luckily, I’m here with a passing mark in Grade 10 art history to explain the real inspiration behind each of these works.

Let’s get into it, you haven’t got all day.

The break down…

Let’s start by looking at The Scream by Edvard Munch, painted in 1893.

We’re led to believe that Munch painted this iconic scene to reflect a panic attack he once had. BBC says Munch shared the experience in his diary:

I was walking along the road with two friends – the sun went down – I felt a gust of melancholy – suddenly the sky turned a bloody red. I stopped, leaned against the railing, tired to death – as the flaming skies hung like blood and sword over the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends went on – I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I felt a vast infinite scream through nature.

A little dramatic, but sure.

However, more modern research has uncovered another couple of possibilities behind this painting.

One is that the figure is not a man at all, but a spaniel with long ears. If you look at it long enough, you’ll see a dog. Or you can click here if you’re too impatient.

The other possibility raised among top art scholars is that the screamer had mistaken the arrival of a bowel movement for flatulence. That’s right, the figure is literally shitting itself in this painting, and is crying out in shock and embarrassment.

The naked truth

The Birth of Venus is another beautifully painted piece, this time by Sandro Botticelli in 1486. In fact, it’s the only work I can think of by this late artist. If Botticelli was a musician in the 20th century, he’d probably be a one-hit wonder.

But this is not about making fun of dead painters that can’t defend themselves. It’s about disparaging the accepted truths about their paintings.

It’s said that it’s about the goddess of love first arriving on land, to inflict unabashed beauty upon the masses. Apparently it’s one of the first works that depicts a naked woman without any religious context.

But make no mistake, Venus is not being modest in this scene.

This is the real meaning:

Venus is actually one of the earliest known influencers. Botticelli told her he could make her a star if she just lost her clothing.

So she did. To be fair, the artist held up his end of the bargain too. Soon every home in every village had a Venus figure pinned to their wall. She was getting brand deals in no time.

It’s rumoured that the model sat for 27 straight hours in the nude, but it only took Botticelli three hours to paint her. Odd.

The real point

This one is my personal favourite painting of all time, as it makes me happy. At least it did up until I realized its “true” meaning.

If you’ve been working in an Arkansas coal mine since childhood and don’t know, it’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat, circa 1886.

The painting is bigger than you might expect. I know this because I stumbled across the original hanging in the Art Institute of Chicago in 2007. I had no idea it was there, close enough to touch behind the low rail.

Why didn’t I touch it??

Sorry, off-topic.

Apparently it was one of the first examples of pointillism, if not the first. It’s when an artist makes a picture from tiny little dots. In the case of this painting, it reportedly took Seurat two years to churn out. That’s a lot of dots.

The painting is said to represent wealth, and how money made people appear more similar to one another than the poor people chilling on the other side of the lake. Yes, there’s a lesser-known B-side to this painting.

Here’s what I think: I think the woman in the middle holding an umbrella beside a young girl is Seurat’s mom, who told him that she had wanted another daughter instead. He carried that resentment into adulthood.

To deal with his anguish, he started taking opium, which was readily available in the late 19th century. In fact, Seurat’s mom had used the drug to soothe him when he was an infant, which gave him a taste for it.

He would later admit that he doesn’t remember adding any of the people beyond the first two characters. The ghost monkey on a leash? That’s anyone’s guess. Maybe it’s Seurat himself.

Sinking the myth

Pretty much everyone is familiar with The Starry Night by Vincent van-Gogh in 1889. The textbooks say he painted this while living in an asylum. He did cut off an ear, after all.

This was apparently the view from his room:

I’ve always liked the melancholy blue tones of this work. But it got me thinking—what if this is not the sky at all? Maybe it’s actually underwater, and the village is Atlantis. I mean, that’s clearly a giant seaweed in the foreground.

Food for thought

This next one is a bit disturbing for the time. It’s titled Saturn Devouring His Son, painted by Francisco Goya in 1823.

The official line on this painting is that it’s about Saturn, a main figure of Greek mythology, who was warned that one of his sons would try to overthrow him. Naturally, he ate them before they had a chance to challenge his power.

But look closer. The smaller figure being eaten is actually punching his dad in the mouth. You can clearly see the arm extending up from the torso, although some finer details have been lost to time.

The surprised expression from Saturn is actually the moment his remaining tooth was knocked out. He didn’t try to eat any more of his kids after this, mainly because he couldn’t.

The big bang?

The Garden of Earthly Delights is a three-panelled folding work created by Hieronymus Bosch in the late 1400’s. It’s supposed to show the progression of a woman being created, falling to temptation, and then getting punished for it.

This guy has the opinion that’s a progressive painting about “waking up to the future.”

But let’s be honest, it’s simply medieval porn. The artist had fun painting a bunch of people getting it on, and disguised it with a religious narrative. Check out the one person near the bottom getting flowers stuffed up their butt—it might’ve been the inspiration for pegging, who knows?

Even the panel on the right, which was supposed to be Hell, looks pretty fun. It’s like an earlier Burning Man festival with bizarre installations.

Fits the bill

Next, let’s have a look at The Last Supper painted sometime around 1495 by none other than the incredible Leonardo da Vinci, who also tried to design a helicopter.

Of course, if you listen to the Christians, they’ll tell you it’s something about Jesus sharing his last meal with his disciples before he was crucified, his blood turning into wine. It sounds… far-fetched.

I have a better explanation for this highly revered religious masterpiece. You see, all of the disciples were under the impression that Jesus was picking up the tab for the entire meal. When Jesus asked for separate bills, the disciples got a little unruly:

The ones on the right are literally gesturing, “Do you believe this friggin’ guy?”

Ol’ green eyes

Let’s end this deep-dive into art history with one more classic: The Absinthe Drinker by Viktor Oliva, 1901. It reportedly depicts a lone alcoholic enjoying some of “the green fairy”, as the drink was once called.

I’ve tried absinthe, but not enough for a naked, green woman to appear at my table. I’m guessing it takes a full afternoon of consumption to reach this level.

Here’s my hot take: she’s not a drunken hallucination at all, because it seems the waiter at right can see her too.

I think the green fairy came from the future as a hologram. We know from sci-fi movies that all holograms are green. Anyway, she has given up on her cam-girl career, and has travelled back to the turn of the 20th century to score some cheap absinthe (have you seen the price of this stuff now?).

Thank you for reading this, I hope it was entertaining. But more importantly, I hope it inspired you to do your own research instead of blindly accepting what is behind historical masterpieces.

What are some of your takes on these paintings?

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