The Three Graces
When you walk into the Rubens hall at the Prado Museum, you will absolutely be blinded by three glowing, incredibly fleshy women. The Three Graces can be considered the most intense “celebration of flesh” of the Baroque era. Peter Paul Rubens completely discarded the medieval idolization of gaunt asceticism, using overwhelmingly vibrant colors to declare that not only is fat not a sin, but it is practically the most magnificent work of art on earth.
The three central goddesses represent beauty, mirth, and youth in Greek mythology. They hold hands and lean against each other, forming a highly dynamic, circular dance composition.\nBut what truly leaves audiences dumbfounded is the rendering of skin texture. Rubens wasn’t painting muscle; he was painting vibrant fat that seems to jiggle with every breath, human collagen that reflects light and makes you almost feel their body heat. His brushstrokes look as if he smeared melted pearl powder and butter across the canvas.
Focus your eyes on the goddess standing on the far left, looking closely at her back and the soft folds squeezed together, especially the pinkish flush on her pearly skin. In the 1630s, an era devoid of beauty filters and supermodel skinny anxiety, this plumpness was not merely an indulgence in visual aesthetics; it was a survival flex. Europe at the time was plagued by infectious diseases, wars, and intermittent famines. Possessing such a voluptuous, healthy figure proved you had an endless supply of refined flour, butter, and sugary fruits. This wasn’t just “sexy”; it was a brazen declaration of “I’m rich and severely over-nourished.”
Behind this overwhelmingly vibrant scene hides the painter’s most deeply affectionate private love letter. At the time, the 61-year-old Rubens had just married the 16-year-old Hélène Fourment. The face of the beauty on the far left of this painting was modeled entirely on his young new bride. This was not a commercial commission by princes or kings; Rubens painted this purely for his own personal enjoyment at home. For this wealthy painter—who also served as an ambassador traveling across European courts—this painting was the ultimate outburst of his passionately reignited love in the autumn phase of his life.
Rubens loved and obsessed over The Three Graces so much that he kept it hung in his private residence until his death, refusing to ever sell it. It was only after his passing that King Philip IV of Spain was able to purchase it and bring it back to Madrid. Ironically, a later, more ascetic Spanish King found the painting “too offensive and indecent” and even ordered it—along with a batch of other nude paintings—to be burned. Fortunately, the court painter at the time pleaded desperately for its preservation. Thanks to him, these three buttery, radiant women narrowly escaped the flames, hiding out in a dark basement until they finally saw the light of day in a modern museum.
After being washed over by Rubens’ unabashed fleshy carnival, if forced to choose: would you rather be an ascetically glowing, restrained divine statue, or a warm, vibrant piece of fragrant flesh vibrating with life on this canvas?