The first time I locked eyes with a Caravaggio painting , "The Medusa", I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.
It was the 2000s, and although I had already heard of the Mona Lisa and the David, nothing had prepared me for the emotional impact of this work.
I grew up among the frescoed walls of Orthodox churches, I was used to seeing an exclusively sacred dimension in art. The icons, with their serene faces and golden colors, were windows into a divine world, far from human passions. But art, as I discovered by studying the great masters in art history lessons at school, is not just spiritual elevation, it is also storytelling, legend and sometimes terror and disgust.
Caravaggio with his "Medusa" was able to capture the essence of these contrasting emotions. The painting not only represents the decapitated mythological figure, but is a vivid portrait of the moment in which life leaves the body, and with it, all hope. The head of Medusa with its mouth wide open in a silent scream and wide-open eyes is a powerful symbol that goes beyond the concept of classical beauty. This is the embodiment of terror, of surprise, of desperation. Caravaggio doesn't just paint a subject, he tells a story with his palette. Every brushstroke is full of meaning, every shadow is an omen, every light a glimmer of truth. "La Medusa" is a work that leaves no one indifferent, which forces the observer to confront his own fears, with his own morality.
The Medusa, a painting by Caravaggio where art becomes a vehicle of deep emotions and the artist confirms himself as a master in exploring the darkest corners of the human soul. This painting is a journey into the abyss, a close encounter with the most hidden part of ourselves and for this reason it remains one of the most fascinating and disturbed works in the history of art.
The meeting with Caravaggio's La Medusa marked a turning point in my artistic life. That painting was a work to be admired, a catalyst that unleashed in me the desire to create, to explore my expressive abilities and to confront myself with the blank canvas.
So, now I grabbed my brushes and started painting my version of Medusa. I didn't want to simply replicate the master's work, I aspired to capture the essence of the myth through my own personal style. My Medusa would not only have been the representation of an ancestral terror, but the symbol of a cursed beauty, of a charm that despite the fear it instills, one cannot stop looking at.
Painting my Medusa was an internal journey, a way to face my fears and transform them into something tangible; a process of personal discovery, a silent dialogue with the genius of Caravaggio who taught me that art can be beautiful and terrible, sacred and profane at the same time. every time I look at my painting, I see not only the "Medusa", but also the path I took to get to her. This is a reminder that art is a universal language, capable of transmitting emotions and stories across the centuries, and that each artist, with his or her unique voice, contributes to this timeless dialogue.
See also the blog article "The girl in the painting" for more information on my Medusa.