Today, March 19, is ‘World Sleep Day’. Organised by the World Sleep Society, this day has been celebrated across the world since 2008. The aim of the day is to call attention to the importance of sleep, and this year’s theme – ‘Regular Sleep, Healthy Future’ – is about raising awareness of sleep as a ‘human privilege’ that is often compromised by the habits of modern life.
Sleep and sleeping have often preoccupied artists, and the National Gallery of Victoria has more than a hundred depictions of humans and animals ‘in repose’. Perhaps the appeal of sleep to artists lies in the fact that, although a basic human function which is common to all, it is extremely complex. Every person sleeps, but the actual experience is a unique one. When we go to sleep, our inactive state still provides an extraordinary amount of internal activity – both physical and mental – and this presents an artistic challenge: how to convey a multifaceted event whose origins lie in inaction.
In the artistic depiction of sleep a number of themes are evident. These include: the depiction of innocence and serenity; the abandonment of conscious control; the vulnerability of the body; voyeurism and eroticisation; sexuality and consummation; fascination with dreams and dream imagery; and the parallel between sleep and death.
Many artists have chosen to present sleep as a state of escape, comfort and peacefulness. This dormant and untroubled repose is captured in both adults and young children. In the latter it suggests an innocence and purity.
Sometimes the depictions include a parent safeguarding and, while still vigilant, enjoying the break from caregiving and activity. In these examples, there is a clear contrast between asleep and awake, unaware and alert, and empowered and weakened.
Sleeping is also seen as a reward for exertion after labouring …
Or after indulgence and consumption – whether of food or physical activity.
The representation of a person sleeping allows bodies to be gazed upon. Historically, the typical painter, commissioner or viewer of an artwork was male, and women were the object of that gaze. The display of the female physique for the pleasure of the male viewer often added a sensual, erotic or overtly sexual dimension to the many images of naked women sleeping (there are vastly fewer examples of naked men asleep). Sleeping bodies can be studied, and visually caressed, without consent – an issue Australian comedian and art commentator, Hannah Gadsby, took up in her show ‘Nanette’.
Mythology encouraged artists to explore the dangers of sleep. Known stories, with recognisable protagonists, allowed viewers to understand the implications of sleep in the context of the story. Sleep as ‘vulnerability’ is pictured in the painting of Mercury and Argus, taken from the myth in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. In the picture we see the giant, Argus (who has been ‘employed’ by the goddess, Hera, to watch over her priestess, Io – now transformed into a white heifer) being lulled to sleep by Zeus’s son, Mercury, so that Zeus (in the guise of a bull) can ‘have his way with her’. Argus’ power to protect has been thwarted as he has been manipulated through a ‘mind altering experience’ – in this case Mercury’s music.
Alternatively, in the drawing, Mars and Venus, the joyful and triumphant goddess of love watches over the sleeping post-coital god of war, as a rather evil looking eros makes off with his weapons. Mars has been rendered vulnerable through sexual desire, and lust has left him in a compromised position. While there are many possible interpretations, the message could be read as ‘love conquers war’.
A different example of love vanquishing evil is found in the fairy story of ‘Sleeping Beauty’ where the curse of an evil fairy is undone by true love’s kiss.
The painting of dreams is a further way for artists to explore sleep. This not only allows the portrayal to present unique experiences and move sleep from the external to the internal , it is also a way to combine elements that would not normally occupy the same visual space.
Dreams can be inspirational as seen in Henry Fuseli’s Milton, when a youth (c. 1796-1799). This painting is based on a legend in which a young foreign woman appears in a dream to the sleeping student Milton. Her gift of two lines of Italian verse inspires him to compose ‘Paradise Lost’.
Or dreams can be prophetic as is the case with The dream of Pilate’s wife. According to the Gospel of St Matthew (27:19), while Pilate was judging the case of Jesus, his wife sent him a message. It said, “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man. I have had nightmares because of him.”
Or dreams can be wish fulfilments as seen in the art of Thomas Stothard or David Allen.
Sleep is not always a pleasant experience and dreams can be disturbing with the invasion of ghosts and monsters. Ghosts have been depicted in Japanese woodblock art; and Francisco Goya produced an aquatint in 1797/99 – The sleep of reason produces monsters – which suggests that when an artist is able to give free rein to his imagination, nightmarish fantasies and inner demons, which are normally held in check by rational faculties, may emerge.
Finally, the connection between sleep and death has been a source of inspiration for artists. At times, sleep has been considered a reversible form of death and it is not uncommon to find images of ‘people in repose’ on tombs or other memorials.
This connection is particularly evident in John William Waterhouse’s painting Sleep and His Half-Brother Death (1874). Painted after the death of his younger brother from tuberculosis, the painting references the Greek gods Hypnos (sleep) and Thanatos (death) who were brothers.
There are several potential ways to acknowledge World Sleep Day. These range from taking a nap, to reviewing sleep hygiene (awareness of regularity, environment, reduction of night time stimulants, shutting down electronic devices etc.), to practising meditation, to buying a new mattress.
When considering the options, I suggest that my readers might wish to consider how they would like to be represented if an artist were to picture them. My choice would be:
‘Sweet dreams!’
Fascinating and charming Michael as always Thank you, Penny
Thank you Michael – nothing quite like a good night’s sleep or the sight of a sleeping baby – so perfect!
My dreams throughout my life have been serialised visual adventures in incredible composite landscapes from the many places I have lived and the histories that accompany them, including nightmares from massacre sites, gold mining tunnels that lead to underground tunnels that go on forever through hair raising depths that lead to ancient massive sculptural sites that exit finally at wet muddy bedraggled gold mining shanty villages, to Wimmera dusty back roads that wind around and through crop paddocks and past solitary pubs, along the Creek and into wetlands and the inland sea Lake, to cavernous underground railway station memories of old Flinders Street and Princes Bridge stations to old Spencer Street station that eventually exit via complex underground train tracks to the Yarra, and I’m actually in the water and swimming along in the mouth of the Yarra and nudging up to big old WW2 era ships berthed alongside old Station Pier and actually climbing the ladder onto the ship and down into the decks and sometimes I’m inside and outside the old ticket office at the top of the stairs at Station Pier, my dream location list is endless. During the pandemic year I consciously recalled a huge number of my dreams so now I can dream when I am awake! Not as good, nothing like the real thing. I dreamt exactly the moment when I fell pregnant. I dreamt when cancer first formed in my breast. The only time I have ‘slept walked’ was when I dreamt of the massacre burial site (which I didn’t know about) behind the cottage I was living in in the Western District and I was trying to break my way out. I woke to a large piece of window glass resting on my wrist after bashing out the window, ripping down the venetians and curtains.
So … yes, sleep is a powerful, wonderful, amazing part of our experience as living beings.
I love the Bernard Hall and the Ola Cohn