Willendorf Venus

In 1990, I visited Vienna, Austria, to see Pieter Bruegel paintings and other works in the art museum. But the surprise of that trip came in the Vienna History Museum across the square. There I saw the Willendorf Venus, one of the oldest art works in existence. She’s a goddess but not at all like the Greek goddess Venus.

One of our cave-dwelling ancestors carved her about twenty-five thousand years ago in a time before writing, so we can only guess at the artist’s purpose. Willendorf comes from a culture of nomadic hunter-gatherers. To me she seems a goddess, but I suppose she could be a priestess or centerfold pinup.

Probably most people in the twenty-first century think that no woman with such a full figure would ever be considered a pinup. But beauty is an arbitrary standard. Is “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”? I don’t think so. Rather, no universal definition exists, and “beauty” is more like fashion—what appeals to one era seems ludicrous to another. A much more accurate saying would be that “beauty is in the eye of the society.”

Until the twentieth century, ideal women were hefty women. In the 1890s, most dance-hall chorus girls, the stage beauties of their time, possessed ample curves. Their bodies were twice the size of a twentieth century fashion model. Before the twentieth century, Western artists rarely depicted thin women as ideals. Some artists, like Rubens and Renoir, painted beauties of substantial girth. But twentieth century photographers decided that thin women made better fashion models, and magazines like Vogue and Elle spread the idea that “thin is beautiful.”

Drawn from photo of chorus girl, 1890. Body sticking ad, 1980.

However, 25,000 years ago, the Willendorf Venus could have been a depiction of ideal beauty. With her large breasts and ample hips, she may have been a symbol of fertility and propagation of the species. For a hunting-gathering group that lived in caves, periods of food scarcity were common. Infant mortality was high, and women in primitive societies sometimes breast fed a child for three or four years. To raise a child in that harsh environment, women needed as much body fat as they could store because when no other food was available, their milk could keep a child alive. Since Willendorf was a fertility goddess who protected women and children, probably a woman carved her. Male artists probably painted the animal art in caves where hunting rituals took place.

We know from dental evidence that people in primitive societies had short life spans. Women lived an average of twenty-five years; men, an average of thirty-five. Short life spans meant that fat buildup around the heart or joint-pain from overweight would not be a serious problem in the long-run—because there was no long-run.

It’s possible that those small hunting-gathering bands were matriarchal societies. Larger, more complex societies have standing armies with a government ruled by men. But smaller social groups resemble the extended family, and we know that many families are ruled by mothers and grandmothers. In cave-dwelling cultures, men regularly left on hunting expeditions, and women controlled the campsite. They cooked, cleaned, tended small gardens, and raised children. For my father, his domain was his office. For my mother, her domain was the home. My father preferred having his wife rule the home, and I imagine prehistoric hunters felt the same way. However, as I said, these societies existed before the invention of writing, so we can only guess about their customs and beliefs.

What we do know is that between 30,000 B.C.E. and 4,000 B.C.E. thousands of goddess sculptures have been found but few sculptures of men. No doubt these prehistoric fertility statues had special meaning for the people who created and possessed them. In When God Was a Woman, Merlin Stone discusses evidence which supports the theory that, as the agricultural revolution began, many if not most cultures in the Mediterranean region before 4,000 B.C.E. dwelled in small villages with matriarchal governance.

My Willendorf

Whatever Willendorf signified to the culture that created her, today she symbolizes the creative powers of the human spirit. For me, Willendorf is a muse who urges me to strive to create a work that would last 25,000 years. But what makes the statue in the photo especially significant is that I own it. It’s a fake. After purchasing it in the Vienna museum gift shop back in 1990, I brought it home to Texas.

Why would I want a piece of fake art? Well, I can’t own the real thing, and, besides, I can’t tell the difference between my copy and the original. And I bet you can’t either. I’ll say

this, fake art is better than no art.

Most museums are full of junk because all the good stuff is in the big places like the Louvre or the Vatican or the Met. Only through reproductions can most of us experience the great art of the world. Most of my friends and students in Houston, Texas, would never have seen Willendorf if I hadn’t shown them my fake. Usually she sits on my desk, an inspiration and motivator. Take it from me, fakes are great!