Week Two Story: Pegmalion

Pygmalion Book Cover

Pegmalion, a professional painter, having experienced the wicked nature of men, and, offended by the failings that nature gave the male heart, lived alone without a husband or partner for her bed. For many years Peggy lived this way, content to guard her heart from the failings of love and from misuse by men until one day she could bear it no longer. Consumed by her loneliness she began to paint.

At first, guided by her anguish, her painting made little sense, but slowly it began to take form: a man. A man with broad shoulders to bear the heavy weight of Peggy’s easels and large hands to help her move things about the house. The man was tall, with long legs to cover the distance into town to sell Peggy’s paintings and an easy smile to win over her customers. Looking over her painting Peggy realized that she had truly created the perfect man and her loneliness ebbed.

Everyday Peggy would stroke the painting, telling it her secrets, imagining the lovely things he would say to her were he real. She imagined a life with her painted man, where he would take on her burdens and ease her stress. After many weeks a wish took up in her heart: for her painted man to be real. Hearing this wish, even though it remained unspoken, Venus, the goddess of love, took pity on the women and animated her would-be-lover.

The next morning Peggy awoke and began her day as usual. Looking over her paintings, she set about the difficult process of binding them to take to market. Stopping to stroke her painted man as usual, Peggy was horrified to find that he was no longer there. The canvas still set aloft it’s easel but the man once depicted inside it was gone. Just as panic was beginning to rise in her a voice called out.

“Hello?” it called, deep and masculine. “Is there anyone there?”

Spinning around quickly, Peggy was surprised to find someone standing in her doorway. There he was: tall and dark headed, with broad shoulders and an easy smile. Her painted man. Truly he was even more lovely in real life and her heart sored with excitement because she would never again be alone.

“Yes, hello!” Peggy called back. “it is me, the women who painted you into existence.”

“Thank goodness.” The Painted Man replied, flashing her his smile again. “I thought I would never find you.”

“Well now we have found each other!” Peggy said gleefully. “Hurry and help me tie up these paintings and carry them into the market and we can spend the afternoon together.”

The man’s smile faded.

“Not yet.” He decided, pacing toward the kitchen. “I want something to eat and then a rest. You take the painting into town and perhaps we will see each other this afternoon.”

“But wait!” Peggy called, surprised. “That’s why I’ve called you here, to help me, to be my partner!”

“No.” The Painted Man corrected, helping himself to food. “You asked for the man you Painted: Broad shouldered, large hands, an easy smile. And here I am.”

Not knowing what else to say Peggy bound her own paintings and went into town. Day in and Day out it went the same: Peggy would ask the Painted Man for help around the house, for validation, for affection and always his answer was the same: “You asked for the man you painted and here I am.”

While Peggy went to market each day the man entertained himself, learning trades, languages, studying new subjects and eventually he found he had no need for Peggy. The Painted Man accepted a job far away from Peggy and, offended by the failings that nature gave the female heart, lived alone without a wife or partner for his bed.

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Authors Note:

After reading the story of Pygmalion I was really struck by the way the women in the story is nothing but an object - he loves her for her beauty and it is her beauty, in the end, that he marries. I wanted to retell the story as more of a commentary on the way that we all tend to romanticize the opposite sex. Even Women do this! There is a tendency to fall in love not with people, but with the idea of what they can do to better your life. Hopefully I was able to convey that just a little but I've never done anything like this so it could have been a complete wash! 

Ovid, and Tony Kline. Metamorphoses. Harvard University Press, 1994.