Elizabeth Siddal (1829-1862) is known as “art’s greatest supermodel.” She is famously immortalized in paintings as Shakespeare’s Viola and Ophelia but she was also an artist and poet in her own right.
Elizabeth Siddal (1829-1862) is known as “art’s greatest supermodel.” She is famously immortalized in paintings as Shakespeare’s Viola and Ophelia but she was also an artist and poet in her own right.
This month, we’re talking about muses–women who were drivers of creativity and inspiration. Once again, we’re proud to partner with Mercedes-Benz (whose famous namesake was inspired by a young muse named Mercedes). Tune in daily for stories of women whose lives inspired work that has shaped our culture.
History classes can get a bad rap, and sometimes for good reason. When we were students, we couldn’t help wondering... where were all the ladies at? Why were so many incredible stories missing from the typical curriculum? Enter, Womanica. On this Wonder Media Network podcast we explore the lives of inspiring women in history you may not know about, but definitely should.
Every weekday, listeners explore the trials, tragedies, and triumphs of groundbreaking women throughout history who have dramatically shaped the world around us. In each 5 minute episode, we’ll dive into the story behind one woman listeners may or may not know–but definitely should. These diverse women from across space and time are grouped into easily accessible and engaging monthly themes like Educators, Villains, Indigenous Storytellers, Activists, and many more. Womanica is hosted by WMN co-founder and award-winning journalist Jenny Kaplan. The bite-sized episodes pack painstakingly researched content into fun, entertaining, and addictive daily adventures.
Womanica was created by Liz Kaplan and Jenny Kaplan, executive produced by Jenny Kaplan, and produced by Liz Smith, Grace Lynch, Maddy Foley, Brittany Martinez, Edie Allard, Lindsey Kratochwill, Adesuwa Agbonile, Carmen Borca-Carrillo, Taylor Williamson, Ale Tejeda, Sara Schleede, and Alex Jhamb Burns. Special thanks to Shira Atkins.
Original theme music composed by Miles Moran.
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Hello! From Wonder Media Network, I’m Jenny Kaplan. This is Womanica.
This month, we're talking about muses -- women who were drivers of creativity and inspiration
Today, we’re talking about the woman who is known as “art’s greatest supermodel.” She is famously immortalized in paintings as Shakespeare’s Viola and Ophelia. But she was also an artist and poet in her own right.
Meet Elizabeth Siddal.
Elizabeth, or “Lizzie,” was born in London in 1829. She was the oldest of six children. Lizzie’s father owned a cutlery business, and the family was well-off. But after he spent years in a failed property dispute, the family lost most of their fortune.
Despite her family’s unexpected fall in society, Lizzie still learned the manners and customs of the upper class. There is no record that Lizzie attended school, but she developed a love for poetry at a young age after stumbling upon a poem by Alfred Tennyson.
When Lizzie was 20, she found work at a hat shop in central London. In her free time, she worked on her drawing skills. It’s unclear exactly how they met, but in 1849, she was asked to model for the painter Walter Deverell.
At the time, modeling wasn’t seen as a reputable career. But Lizzie’s job at the hat shop meant long hours in unpleasant conditions, and her health was suffering. Lizzie’s mother reluctantly agreed to let her work with Deverell.
In Lizzie’s first modeling job for Deverell, she appears as Viola from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Deverell was part of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a group of artists dedicated to realism in their work. Delighted with his new model, Deverell quickly introduced Lizzie to his friends.
He announced: “You fellows can’t tell what a stupendously beautiful creature I have found.,She’s like a queen, magnificently tall!”
Lizzie was an unusual choice for a muse. Modern viewers might see her willowy frame and long auburn hair as classically beautiful. But at the time, thinness wasn’t considered attractive, and red hair was looked down upon.Still, the group of artists saw something special in Lizzie’s unique appearance.
Lizzie famously appears as Ophelia, from Hamlet, in the 1852 painting by Sir John Everett Millais. On icy winter days, Lizzie posed for Millais in a tub of water so the painter could capture the character’s infamous drowning. Oil lamps placed beneath the tub kept the water warm. But inevitably, the lamps flickered out, and Lizzie sat in freezing water for hours. She got so sick afterward that her father threatened Millais with legal action if he didn’t pay her doctor’s bills.
Lizzie’s most enduring legacy is probably her work with painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He was enamored with Lizzie and jealous when his artist friends used her in their paintings. Eventually, Rossetti persuaded her to pose only for him. Art historians estimate that Rossetti produced thousands of paintings and sketches of Lizzie. His most famous painting of her is Beata Beatrix, in which he depicts the poet Dante’s Beatrice character praying.
Lizzie wasn’t just Rossetti’s model. By 1854, she became his student as well, honing her technique as a painter and sketch artist. During this period, she completed watercolors, sketches, drawings, and a self portrait oil painting.
Lizzie also spent plenty of time writing dark and brooding poetry, though it wasn’t published until after her death. Here’s a stanza from her poem “Worn Out:”
“For I am but a startled thing
Nor can I ever be
Aught save a bird whose broken wing
Must fly away from thee.”
The relationship with Rossetti was also a romantic one. The couple was engaged for nearly a decade, but Rossetti never seemed ready for a wedding — possibly because of his frequent affairs.
Lizzie was also living with an addiction to laudanum — a commonly prescribed drug, which was an early opioid. Historians also speculate that Lizzie struggled with anorexia, though that wasn’t a known illness yet.
After years of ups and downs, Lizzie and Rossetti separated. She moved to Sheffield to continue her artistic studies, but her health grew steadily worse. In 1860, her parents wrote to Rosetti, informing the painter of her dire condition. He rushed to Lizzie’s side with a marriage license.
Lizzie and Rossetti got married once she was well enough. Soon, Lizzie was pregnant. But in 1861, their daughter was stillborn. Lizzie was devastated, and she leaned even more heavily on laudanum to cope with her loss.
On Febuary 11, 1862, Rossetti returned home from a night out to find Lizzie had died of a drug overdose. She was only 32.
In a show of dedication to his wife, Rossetti buried the only manuscripts of his poetry with Lizzie’s body. However, as the years went by, Rossetti began to yearn for his lost poems.
In 1869, seven years after Lizzie’s death, Rossetti arranged for Lizzie’s body to be exhumed. When Lizzie’s grave was reopened, Rossetti wasn’t there — some speculate it was because he didn’t want people to know he was involved in the morbid task. It happened in the dead of night, with a bonfire providing enough light for the workers to dig by.
Rossetti’s friend Charles Augustus Howell later swore that when they opened her coffin, he saw a perfectly preserved Lizzie. She was still youthful, with no sign of decay. In fact, her silky hair had continued to grow until it filled the coffin.
Of course, this story is impossible. And Charles was known to be a liar and manipulator. Regardless, the legend transformed Lizzie into a gothic cult figure in the years after her death. To this day, some people are certain that Lizzie remains “undead.”
All month, we’re highlighting muses. For more information, find us on Facebook and Instagram @womanicapodcast.
Special thanks to Liz Kaplan, my favorite sister and co-creator.
Talk to you tomorrow!