Spooky Halloween Art

It’s almost Halloween, so in honour of the spooookiest holiday, I’ve put together this list of my favourite creepy art, music, dance, and theatre. Personally, I’m not big on Halloween (aside from the candy, OBVIOUSLY), but what I do love is art that goes bump in the night. Happy Halloween, everyone!

Study after Velázquez’s Portrait of Innocent X

Francis Bacon, 1953

This painting is often used as an example in texts about colour theory (yellow and purple are on opposite sides of the colour wheel, which is why they pop so intensely when paired together), but MY GOODNESS it gives me the heebie jeebies. Partially because I detest yellow and purple together, but primarily because of DAT FACE.

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The Nightmare

Henry Fuseli, 1781

GAH. Have you ever had the nightmare where you wake up and someone is in your room? No? Just me? Well thank God I’ve never had a dream about a frickin’ gargoyle sitting on my stomach and a dang DEMON HORSE in my room. My goooodness.

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Study of the Heads of Torture Victims

Theodore Gericault, 1818

WHAT’S IN THE BOX!? WHAT’S IN THE BOX?!! Oh, it’s this painting. P.s., Gericault did a series of these, all about severed body parts. Great. That’s just great. I didn’t need to sleep ever again. It’s fine.

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Skull of a Skeleton with a Burning Cigarette

Vincent Van Gogh, 1886

I actually adore this painting. The colours are so magnificent, and the shoulder-dropped posture of the skeleton is so… devil may care? Scary or no, a smoking skeleton CLEARLY deserves Halloween attention.

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Saturn Devouring His Son

Francisco Goya, c. 1823

This, on the other hand, I hate (not because it’s a bad painting, because it’s absolutely amazing, but because EWWW). This is based on the Roman myth of the god, Saturn, you know… eating his son. Hoo boy. There are actually multiple scary paintings based on this moment in mythology, but Goya’s is TERRIFYING. Gawd. Get it off my computer screen.

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Judith Slaying Holofernes

Artemesia Gentileschi, c. 1610

I don’t personally find this painting scary, per se… but hey, I’m a feminist and Holofernes was a big jerk. There are a ton of paintings of this scene, meant to represent the power of women over unjust/power-drunk men, but none as famous (nor as gory) as this one. 

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Follow the leaders

Isaac Cordal, 2011

Cordal is known for outdoor installations, particularly this series of tiny sculptures of business men/politicians in watery gutters, on ledges, and buried in debris – a commentary on “our inertia as a social mass.” I find them TERRIFYING. 

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Macbeth

Shakespeare (duh), 1606

IMO, you can’t have a Halloween arts list without “The Scottish Play” (shh! It’s bad luck to say its name! …in a theatre, at least.) In case you’ve forgotten your high school English class, there are ghosts! There are witches! There’s blood that won’t go away, and a floating dagger! Plus it’s all in the foggy Scottish moors. There’s the original play of course, there are several movie versions (including one with Michael Fassbaender and Marion Cottiard), and there’s also a kick-ass opera version by Verdi.

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Little Shop of Horrors

Miles Goodman and Alan Menken, 1982

There are several great spooky musicals, but Little Shop is my favourite (mostly because I played Audrey in high school… the girl, not the plant! But also because it’s just all-around awesome). I’m not exactly sure why, but I find the movie version scary as hell. Maybe it’s the creepy lighting. Maybe it’s the sadistic dentist. Maybe it’s the giant man-eating plants from outer space. It’s a mystery.

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Sweeney Todd

Steven Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler, 1979

A demon barber in Victorian England slits the throats of his customers while they’re in his chair, then a baker turns them into meat pies. Fun for the whole family, really.

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“In the Hall of the Mountain King” from Peer Gynt

Edvard Grieg, 1875

This is literally a whole piece about a bunch of trolls, gnomes, and goblins in the, well, hall of a mountain king. Yes, please!

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Danse Macabre

Camille Saint-Saëns, 1874

The devil makes the spirits rise from the dead and dance to this sweet sweet creepy tune (basically the equivalent of “Devil Went Down To Georgia”, but for symphony orchestra).

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A Night on Bald Mountain

Modest Mussorgsky/Nikolai Rimsky-Korzakov, 1886

To me, this will always be “the terrifying part of Fantasia.” Or, the scary part of Mario. Like, seriously, how can music sound so damned terrifying right from the very first note?!

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“March to the Scaffold” and “Dream of a Witches Sabbath” from Symphonie Fantastique

Hector Berlioz, 1830

This piece of symphonic music is meant to tell the story of a guy who is so hopelessly in love with this woman that he overdoses on opium then dreams that he kills her and is condemned to be executed (fun!). So this is the end, where he has to march up the scaffold to his death, then, for some reason, there’s a super wild, evil, witches’ ritual. 

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Lucia’s Mad Scene from Lucia di Lammermoor

Gaetano Donizetti, 1835

There are loads of creepy moments in opera, but this is my favourite. Lucia is forced into marriage, then kills her betrothed on her wedding night. Apparently it was a thing for the wedding party to continue on while the couple headed upstairs, which makes for the stunning moment when Lucia emerges from her marital bed, still in her wedding dress, covered in blood – oh, and she’s gone completely crazy. This aria also features the glass harmonica – an instrument some believed to have supernatural powers.

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Commendatore scene from Don Giovanni

Mozart, 1787

Sooo… most of Don Giovanni is about the worlds’-most-famous-womanizer scheming and, well, womanizing all over the place. Then it all catches up with him, and the statue of the dead father of a woman he assaulted comes to life and drags him to hell. And it’s some of the best music and drama in all opera. Plus, there were probably real fire effects on stage as early as the premiere during Mozart’s time. Yikes!

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Swan Lake

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, 1876

Ballet is FULL of creepy plots, femme fatales, and supernatural ballet babes. If you know the plot of Swan Lake, you know it’s no exception. Are you team Odette (White Swan) or Odile (Black Swan)? Maybe embrace your dark side and, if you can’t watch the real thing, re-watch Black Swan this Halloween.

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Giselle

Like many ballets, Giselle is about a female lover scorned by a big jerk who she then comes back to haunt/kill as an evil spirit. Giselle is extra awesome because she joins a whole army of evil female spirits called the Willis. Ummm, vengeful lady ghosts? That’s my kinda Halloween. Just for fun, here’s the contemporary reimagining by choreographer Akram Khan. Evil lady spirits unite!

Understanding the Old to Appreciate the New

There’s a really interesting movement happening right now in university musicology classes (that’s the study of music history, music making, and music in general). In fact, I’m told, it’s happening across a lot of disciplines. Remember your “Intro to…” classes in university? Maybe you took “Introduction to French Poetry”, or “Introduction to American Politics.” So long as the topic was in the humanities, I bet dollars to donuts your class was at least largely taught in chronological order. I.e., “let’s start with the Roman Empire and work our way forward.” Well, apparently, this is falling by the wayside.

What’s the deal? Well, basically, a lot of younger/newer profs have fascinating ideas and theories about teaching thematically instead of chronologically. There are tons of reasons for this, some of which are rooted in dismantaling the patriarchal/colonial roots of the “traditional” education system (yes yes yes), and others of which come from the development of more nuanced and creative scholarship across disciplines (plus, better and better understanding and acceptance of the different ways people learn). I applaud any experimentation in higher learning, and I’ll leave it to scholars who know much more about all of that than I do to make our universities better. 

An Ode to Chronology

What this has got me thinking about is the virtue of things presented in chronological order. Someone once told me that everyone sees time in one of two ways: either, time is cyclical, always moving in circles; or, time is a single straight line. When I told my husband this (in the context of a rant about “how can anyone possibly see time as anything but straight!”), Ryan responded: “it’s just one long march toward death.” At least we’re on the same page.

Personally, I love when things are organized chronologically. I adore the calendar – daily, monthly, yearly. I particularly enjoy a perpetual calendar that spans several months with no breaks between the 31st of this month and the 1st of the next. It’s so satisfying to see one long string of days. Similarly, I still recall the thrill of making study notes of overlapping chronologies in many of my studies – from high school to music school to law school. Ah, so this was happening in Russia while this was happening in the United States! And this led to this! And this to that!

Which brings me to my point. When we organize and think about things chronologically, we’re able to build our knowledge in the same way the actual things and events developed: day by day, year by year, impact upon impact. While it can be marvellous to group things by theme, it can be awfully hard to start like that, because we have no grounding for our learning. Everything grows out of something else – such is the nature of creation and innovation. And you simply cannot appreciate the newer thing without understanding the older. 

The issue with this method, and I’ll be blunt, is that the older things are, the more boring they tend to be to us modern learners. Obviously this is an exaggeration and a huge generalization, but the reason it often holds true is that the farther away we go from today, the more we need to extrapolate to connect with what we’re learning because it’s less and less like the world we’re familiar with today. Even though people are people, and our struggles and hopes and loves are universal (and have been since the dawn of human kind), it gets trickier the older you go. 

Chronological Study and the Fine Arts

Obviously, this is incredibly relevant for the study of the arts, which is, at its heart, a highly chronological field (or, at least, historically has been). The reason I love studying all of the fine arts chronologically is two-fold. First, artists were all so incredibly impacted by the artists who lived immediately before them and during their lifetimes (often including their own teachers and friends) that we simply cannot discredit the immense weight of influence, inspiration, and intimidation, and the impact of those forces on what the latter artists created. Second, art is a reflection of human experience, so we must, must understand what was going on in the world directly before and particularly during the creation of any given work. We simply must know what the artist studied, what came right before them, and what was happening around them. 

The tricky part is knowing how to start. Does one begin right at the dawn of human creation, in ancient times? Or does one start with the Greeks? Is it better to learn all of the forms at once and move slowly through the eras, or is it easier to delve into, say, the history of visual art from cavemen forward? Should one move slowly and diligently through the periods, making sure to deeply understand each before advancing, or is it better to quickly move through the whole of history to get the basic hold of things, then go back to gain deeper knowledge throughout?

My friends, I would like to be a bit of a bore and advocate for the classic survey approach. It’s not sexy. It’s not creative. But it’s damned effective, especially for adult learners. Start at the beginning for any given art form and casually and quickly move through the eras until you hit modern day. Get a nice lay of the land. See how one era comes out of the era before, and make cognitive links between people, events, and works of art. You have so much time to go deeper later (let’s call those your 200-level courses). For now, grab one good library book, Google as you go along, and get the basic idea. That one long stream of days and years and eras you’ll hold in your mind at the end will truly be your foundation for loving the fine arts. 

The Three Types of Knowledge You Need to be a Fan of the Arts

So… I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I’m so pumped to teach you how to love the fine arts more than you ever knew you could. The bad news is that you have to put in the work to get there.

Sorry! (And sorry for the “sorry” – I’m Canadian, I can’t help it.) The fine arts take time to understand. Sure, there are lots of effortless ways to start being a fan of the arts, and I love to share those here and through social media. That stuff is gold, for sure. But to get to the real juiciness that is loving the arts, you’re going to have to put in some effort.

To my mind, at least, that’s a good thing. A lot of things that are quick and easy to understand and derive pleasure from are shallow. They’re not the interests, hobbies, and passions that sustain you and colour your whole life; instead, they’re reality TV and snack food (which have their time and place, but man cannot live on Love Island and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos alone).

So, what exactly do you need to learn before you can truly appreciate the fine arts? Three things. For each of the fine arts – to be a true fan – you need to develop three areas of knowledge:

1. Historical Context;

2. Technical Understanding; and,

3. The Current Landscape.

They’re not nearly as scary or difficult as they sound at first, so keep reading. You can do this! 

1.     To love the fine arts, you need to learn their evolving historical context.

For me, this is the big one. The reason musicians love classical music so much is because they know all the major composers, what order they lived in, who was influenced by whom, and what world events shaped their artistic voices. This allows you, as a listener, to understand the composer’s point of view, and hear what they meant for you to hear.

Let me give you an example. One of my favourite composers is Dmitri Shostakovich. He wrote a crapton of music, including some of the most famous symphonies, concerti, and string quartets of all time. What historical context would you need to understand his music? Well, he lived from 1906-1975 in the Soviet Union, and spent much of his career in and out of favour with Joseph Stalin (which was deeply terrifying to the composer, of course). At times, his works are Soviet propaganda – rah-rah patriotic melodies in “celebration” of the ruling party. At others, Shostakovich uses his compositional style in subversive ways to criticize fascism, anti-semitism, and war.

If you were about to listen to a Shostakovich symphony from during Joseph Stalin’s reign, wouldn’t you understand it so much more now? You can get in the composer’s head and see what he might have been trying to convey. You might hear suppressed self-expression in favour of pleasing those in power (who, at the time, were murdering artists left and right). Or, you might hear the work of a revolutionary cleverly weaving his true feelings around beautiful melodies and rousing rhythms. For example, have a listen to perhaps the most celebrated of Shostakovich’s symphonies, his Fifth (or, as musicians and music lovers say, “Shostakovich Five”). Listen to the whole thing, or jump ahead to the short but epic last movement at 37:10 – it’s a rousing celebration of the strength and glory of the state. Or is it?

So, do you see how context means more than just the dates a composer lived, or where they were born? It means everything.

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2.     To love the fine arts, you need to have some technical understanding.

I get it: no one wants to be told that they need to have “technical understanding.” Heck, I’ll bet you just read the word “technical” and rolled up like a hedgehog. It’s okay! This is probably the easiest and funnest part (and yes, I’m gonna stick with “funnest”).

When I say “technical understanding,” what I mean is this: do you know enough terminology and enough about what the artists are physically doing/have done to actually appreciate and talk about the result? This is where you learn the lingo (like what a sonata is, or the difference between woodcut and linocut printmaking). It’s where you learn how artists do stuff (like how a pianist uses the pedals under the instrument, or how exactly a ballet dancer does an epic series of fouettés).

Here’s my personal current example. As many of you know, I’m getting really into ballet (as a fan). I’ve always adored watching it, and now I’m deep-diving into everything the art form has to teach me. But where did my love of ballet begin? With the movie Center Stage, obviously. In that absolute classic, one of the things they talk about a lot is how one character lacks “good feet.” Well, what the hell does that even mean? Well, someone saying a dancer has “good feet” means that the dancer has molded her feet (some of which is indeed genetics, but much of which is training) into making a beautiful curved shape when she dances, including transitioning through different foot positions and steps with elegant and charming rounded movements. Good feet are beautiful extensions of the long lines created by the legs, not clompy, awkward add-ons.

As an example, watch one of my favourite ballerinas, Natalia Osipova, dance Odile from Swan Lake, and look at the gorgeous, strong curve her feet make throughout the solo:

Do you know how great it is to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” and actually agree with Nigel when he says someone has “great feet”? And actually KNOW what you’re talking about? And appreciate the years of effort and care and natural gifts that lead to those gorgeous pieds? It’s so satisfying.

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3.     To love the fine arts, you need to know the current landscape.

I’m not going to lie to you, this one is tricky. But it’s really, really important, especially now.

First, the fun side of this. To understand an art form, you should know what’s currently happening in it. Like, who are the most celebrated playwrights right now and why? What trends are happening in visual art, and do you like them? Who is the jazz saxophonist of the moment, and what do people love about their playing? This part is all about reading fun stuff on the internet, watching YouTube, and following people on Instagram, so… pretty easy.

Now the hard part. Art is complicated – and by that, I don’t just mean “difficult to understand.” I also mean, it’s wrapped up in a lot of social issues that are not cut and dry. From cultural appropriation to problematic subjects to outdated language we would never accept today, how do we deal with art created in different times with very different social norms and sensibilities?

Take, for example, perhaps the most famous opera on the planet: Carmen, by Georges Bizet. Like many, many operas, it’s a problematic tragedy where the main female character dies at the end. But rather than dying of madness or consumption, Carmen is brutally murdered by her scorned lover, Don José. Pretty much the entire history of opera is steeped in misogyny, but perhaps nowhere more viscerally than where an opera about objectification and the virgin-whore dichotomy culminates in the ultimate act of domestic violence. This has led some companies to change the ending (to Carmen killing Don José, for example), or to providing a violence against women trigger warning. But some say we should scrub Carmen from the repertoire entirely. Wouldn’t you rather know this and be part of the conversation than go in blind?

Knowing what’s “going on” around the art you take in makes you a better audience member/viewer/listener. It also makes you a better member of your community by being sensitive and open to the experiences other people might have from the same work of art. It’s not just a way to enhance your experience – it’s your responsibility (and, it makes your art-viewing experience way deeper).

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Still pumped? You’re in the right place

Look. I know some people read half of this post and peaced out. I get it. They were like, “learn stuff? Like, school? I’m frickin’ outta here.” We don’t need them.

Hopefully if you’re still here you feel a lot like I do about learning new things. Frankly, I love to learn. I love to study. I love to read and watch documentaries and listen to podcasts and hear interesting people talk about stuff I previously knew nothing about. The arts are a goldmine of all that learning goodness, and now you know the three types of knowledge you’ll need to equip yourself with to be a life-long fan of the fine arts.

Ready to dive in? Subscribe to my weekly newsletter, where you’ll get a condensed package of information to build up all three areas of learning (plus, my favourite arts news, videos, and articles of the week so you don’t have to find them yourself).