The Insemination of Venus, Laura Schmidt (2024). Mixed media (tooled leather, acrylic with hand-printed paper, torch-painted copper, soft pastel, polymer clay). The work incorporates kinetic elements, such as freely hanging copper leaves, and draws upon classical and mythological influences, including Botticelli’s Birth of Venus
If you find yourself without task or chore, bored beyond belief, and inclined to read a pedantic, hubristic, and discursive review interpreting a truly stunning work of art, I invite you to explore my essay (accessible at link below) on The Insemination of Venus by Laura Schmidt. To say that I find Schmidt’s work exciting and inspiring would be an understatement.
Schmidt, whom I have known for almost four decades, has recently turned in earnest to artistic endeavors following the conclusion of her legal career. Her latest work, The Insemination of Venus, is a masterful synthesis of classical themes and contemporary materials, drawing inspiration from Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and which I interpret as a re-imagining of the ancient motif of the Tree of Life and as an active force of creative transformation (see also my poem below).
Abstract for Essay:The Insemination of Venus as a Modern Tree of Life
The essay explores the profound intersection of classical mythology, artistic innovation, and the enduring motif of the Tree of Life in Laura Schmidt’s multimedia work. Inspired in part by Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, Schmidt’s piece transforms the classical image of Venus from a passive subject of divine creation into an active force of generative imagination. Through an interpretative lens, this essay examines how The Insemination of Venus re-imagines the ancient Tree of Life—not merely as a conduit of divine will, but as a dynamic site of transformation shaped by human creativity. Drawing on traditions from Mesopotamian sacred trees to Platonic cosmology and Norse mythology, my interpretive analysis situates Schmidt’s work within a continuum of cultural expressions that depict trees as cosmic axes, vessels of metamorphosis, and symbols of the evolving relationship between nature, divinity, and artistic agency. Engaging with both the technical execution and symbolic complexity of Schmidt’s composition, this essay illuminates how art can simultaneously honor and redefine ancient archetypes, presenting the Tree of Life as a living, evolving force in the realm of artistic creation.
How old is the literary tradition of the golden plow? This question arose unexpectedly while I was working my way through William Blake’s Jerusalem, where I encountered these striking lines:
They Plow’d in tears, the trumpets sounded before the golden Plow And the voices of the Living Creatures were heard in the clouds of heaven … (Blake, 1988, p. 205)
As often happens in literary exploration, the evocative image of the golden plow immediately diverted me from my primary task of continuing to read and understand Jerusalem. The golden plow, I realized, resonates deeply in our cultural consciousness, appearing not only in poetry (see also Blake’s Augeries of Innocence, where he writes: “When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow / To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow”) but also in modern contexts—such as the Golden Plow Award, the highest honor presented to a sitting member of Congress by the American Farm Bureau.
The reasons for the golden plow’s enduring power as a poetic device are clear: the plow itself is a universal symbol of labor, cultivation, and renewal—an instrument that transforms barren soil into fertile ground, embodying humanity’s intimate connection with nature and the cycles of life. By portraying this familiar tool as golden, poets imbue it with sacred significance, elevating it from the mundane to the divine. Gold has long been associated with divinity, purity, and incorruptibility. In this sense, the golden plow often becomes not merely a tool of agriculture but a metaphor for spiritual or moral transformation, where the act of plowing symbolizes preparing the soul or society for renewal and growth.
This striking image led me to investigate its earliest literary appearances, which brought me to Herodotus’s Histories (late 5th century BC). In Book Four, he recounts the Scythian origin myth:
According to the Scythians, theirs is the youngest of nations, and it came into existence in the following way. The first man born in this land, when it was still uninhabited, was named Targitaos. They say that the parents of this Targitaos were Zeus and the daughter of the River Borysthenes, though that does not sound credible to me. Nevertheless, that is their claim. From such stock, then came Targitaos, and to him were born three sons: Lipoxais, Arpoxais, and the youngest of them, Colaxais. While they reigned, certain objects made of gold fell from the sky: they were a plow, a yoke, a battle-axe, and a cup. When these objects came to rest on Scythian ground, they were seen first by the eldest son, who, wanting to take them up, approached where they lay. But as he came near them, the gold caught on fire, so he left them there; and when the second son approached, the same thing happened. Thus the burning gold drove both of them away; but when the third and youngest son approached, the fire stopped burning and went out, so he carried the gold home, and the elder brothers reacted to this event by agreeing to surrender the entire kingdom to the youngest. (Herodotus, 2007, pp. 283–284)
While the specifically golden plow appears rarely in classical and medieval literature, the plow itself features prominently as a powerful symbol. In Virgil’s Georgics, the unadorned plow serves as both a practical tool and metaphor for poetic creation:
It must also be said what tools are the weapons of the hardy rustics, without which neither could crops be sown nor harvests rise: the plowshare and the heavy timber of the curved plow, the slow-moving wagons of the Eleusinian mother, the threshing boards, the sledges, and the rakes with uneven weight. (Virgil, 1846, Georgics I, lines 160–162, trans. by author)
Although Virgil’s plow is neither golden nor even gilded, its role as both a practical tool and poetic metaphor anticipates later literary uses of the golden plow as a symbol of sacred labor and creation.
The Jewish and Christian traditions, drawing upon their holy books, provided writers throughout the ages with rich sources of plowing imagery for metaphorical and allegorical purposes. Consider Luke 9:62, where commitment to discipleship is illustrated through the image of putting one’s hand to the plow; Amos 9:13, where the plowman overtaking the reaper symbolizes divine abundance and the promise of restoration; and Isaiah 2:4, where the transformation of swords into plowshares symbolizes divine peace. In these texts, the plow consistently signifies renewal, moral preparation, and divine purpose. This deep reservoir of symbolic meaning helps us understand the significance of Blake’s golden plow in Jerusalem.
In both Blake’s visionary poem and Herodotus’s historical narrative, the golden plow stands as a transformative symbol. For Blake, it is likely part of a cosmic act of redemption, accompanied by trumpets and celestial voices. For Herodotus, it conveys legitimacy and divine sanction within the founding myth of a nation. In each case, the golden plow bridges the earthly and the divine, elevating labor and effort to the realm of the sacred. This enduring image, rich with cultural and poetic imagination, invites reflection on how humanity’s most basic acts—plowing, cultivating, laboring—can become acts of profound spiritual significance.
That the symbol persists into our own time through awards like the Golden Plow Award suggests its continuing resonance with fundamental human values of cultivation, transformation, and excellence. Yet I wonder: might there be an even earlier literary reference to this powerful symbol than Herodotus’s account? Readers who know of earlier appearances are invited to share their findings.
References
Blake, W. (1988). The complete poetry & prose of William Blake (D. Erdman, Ed.; H. Bloom, Commentary). Anchor Books.
Ginsberg Project. (2024, October 14). William Blake – from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell – 14. Retrieved December 13, 2024, from https://allenginsberg.org/2024/10/oct14/ The Ginsberg Project has an interesting discussion of the Jerusalem extract which is the object of this post.
Herodotus. (2007). The landmark Herodotus: The histories (R. B. Strassler, Ed.; A. L. Purvis, Trans.; R. Thomas, Introduction). Pantheon Books.
— William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II
The Thinker Auguste Rodin (French, 1840–1917) Bronze, c. 1880 Collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art
Introduction
Throughout intellectual history, certain movements emerge as responses to profound existential challenges, particularly in times of crisis when traditional sources of authority and meaning prove inadequate. Pietism, a religious movement within 17th and 18th-century Lutheranism, and Absurdism, a philosophical outlook articulated in the 20th century by figures such as Albert Camus, represent two such responses. At first glance, these movements may appear to occupy separate universes: Pietism, with its emphasis on personal spirituality and divine relationship, seems rooted in religious conviction, while Absurdism, especially as developed by Camus, confronts the inherent meaninglessness of life, proposing a defiant acceptance of the absurd. Yet, beneath these surface differences lies a shared psychological strategy for coping with the limitations of human existence. Both movements involve an internal retreat to assert autonomy and agency in the face of external authority, ultimately rejecting or reinterpreting the concept of control over what life presents.
This essay explores the deep connections between Pietism and Absurdism, arguing that both movements, despite their different contexts and expressions, engage in a similar process of internal retreat and reframing of meaning. By analyzing the historical and philosophical underpinnings of each movement, as well as their respective responses to crises of autonomy, we can uncover the unexpected parallels between them. Through this comparison, we gain a deeper understanding of how individuals and communities navigate the challenges of existence, finding ways to create meaning and assert control in a world that often seems indifferent or hostile to their aspirations.
I. The Historical Contexts of Pietism and Absurdism
To fully appreciate the parallels between Pietism and Absurdism, it is essential to consider the historical contexts from which they emerged. Pietism arose in the aftermath of the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648), a conflict that devastated much of Central Europe, particularly the German states. This war, one of the most destructive in European history, left the region in ruins, with a shattered economy, deep social fragmentation, and widespread spiritual despair. In this context, the institutional Lutheran Church, which had been a source of spiritual and social cohesion, was increasingly perceived as distant and disconnected from the immediate needs of its congregants. Philipp Jakob Spener, often considered the father of Pietism, called for a return to a more personal and heartfelt form of Christianity. Spener’s vision emphasized personal piety, the cultivation of the inner life, and a direct, unmediated relationship with God as the means of spiritual renewal.
Similarly, Camus’ philosophy of Absurdism was shaped by the profound existential crises brought on by world wars, particularly World War II. Writing in occupied France, Camus grappled with the moral and philosophical implications of a world plunged into chaos by unprecedented violence and suffering. The horrors of the war, including the Holocaust and widespread destruction, shattered many of the moral, religious, and philosophical certainties that had underpinned Western thought. In this context, Camus developed his concept of the absurd—the recognition that life is inherently devoid of meaning, a reality that can lead to either despair or rebellion. In his seminal essay The Myth of Sisyphus (1942), Camus presents Sisyphus, the mythological figure condemned to endlessly push a boulder up a hill only to see it roll back down, as the archetype of the absurd hero. Sisyphus’ rebellion lies in his acceptance of the futility of his task and his decision to find joy in the struggle itself. This defiant embrace of the absurd becomes, for Camus, a model of how to live meaningfully in a world that offers no intrinsic meaning.
Despite the centuries that separate them, the historical contexts of Pietism and Absurdism reveal a striking similarity: both movements emerged in response to the devastation and moral ambiguity wrought by catastrophic wars. The Thirty Years’ War and World War II, though vastly different in scale and nature, each led to a profound crisis of meaning. In both cases, the established structures of meaning—whether religious, political, or philosophical—seemed inadequate to address the realities of a world torn apart by violence and chaos. In response, both Pietists and Absurdists turned inward, seeking to create or rediscover meaning within the self, rather than in the external world.
II. Internal Retreat and the Assertion of Autonomy
Central to both Pietism and Absurdism is the concept of an internal retreat as a response to the recognition of powerlessness in the face of external forces. For the Pietist, this retreat involves a rejection of the institutional structures of the church, which were perceived as corrupt or spiritually empty, in favor of a direct and personal relationship with God. This inward turn was a deliberate choice to reclaim agency in a world that was often hostile as well as spiritually barren and controlled by external secular and spiritual authorities that offered little true solace. The Pietist’s focus on personal piety, repentance, and the cultivation of the inner life was not merely a withdrawal from the world but a strategic redefinition of what it meant to live a meaningful life.
Similarly, Absurdism posits that the external world is indifferent, and often hostile, to human aspirations, and that any search for absolute meaning or purpose is ultimately futile. Faced with this reality, the Absurdist retreats inward, choosing to assert autonomy by creating personal meaning through their actions and attitudes, even in the absence of any inherent purpose. This internal retreat is exemplified in the figure of Sisyphus, whose rebellion against the absurdity of his situation is not an attempt to escape his fate but to find meaning in the struggle itself. By embracing the absurd and rejecting the false comforts of external validation or hope, the Absurdist asserts control over their own experience of life.
In both Pietism and Absurdism, the internal retreat is a means of asserting autonomy in a world where external control is impossible. The Pietist’s decision to focus on a personal relationship with God, and the Absurdist’s choice to find meaning in the act of living itself, are both expressions of a deep-seated need to reclaim agency in the face of overwhelming external assaults and constraints. This retreat into the self allows both the Pietist and the Absurdist to create a sense of purpose and meaning that is independent of the external world, even as they acknowledge the limitations of their control over that world.
III. Reframing Meaning: The Creation of Purpose
A key aspect of both Pietism and Absurdism is the reframing of meaning in response to the recognition that external sources of validation are inadequate or non-existent. For the Pietist, this reframing involves a shift away from the traditional markers of religious authority and success—such as adherence to doctrine or participation in ritual—and towards the cultivation of personal piety and a “direct relationship with God.” This reorientation of values allows the Pietist himself or herself to define what it means to live a meaningful life, focusing on the internal transformation that comes from spiritual devotion rather than on external adherence, achievements, or recognition.
In Absurdism, the reframing of meaning involves a rejection of the notion that life has any inherent purpose or value. Instead, the Absurdist creates meaning through their own actions and attitudes, embracing the struggle of existence as the only source of true fulfillment. This process of meaning-making is deeply personal and likewise self-directed, relying on the individual’s ability to find joy and purpose in the act of living itself, rather than in the pursuit of some ultimate goal. For the Absurdist, meaning is not something that can be discovered in the world, but something that must be created from within.
Both movements, therefore, involve a similar process of reframing meaning in response to the limitations of external validation. The Pietist’s focus on personal spirituality and the Absurdist’s embrace of life’s struggles both represent ways of creating meaning that are independent of external authority or recognition. In this sense, both movements can be seen as responses to the same existential crisis—the realization that the external world offers little in the way of inherent meaning or purpose—and as attempts to reclaim control over one’s own experience of life.
IV. Absurdism with a Defined Purpose? A Pietist Perspective
One of the most intriguing aspects of the comparison between Pietism and Absurdism is the question of whether Pietism can be understood as a form of Absurdism with a defined purpose. The Pietist’s commitment to a personal relationship with God, and the self-directed study of the Bible (as opposed to clerically mediated study), could be seen as an “absurd” response to the same existential reality that the Absurdist confronts—the lack of inherent meaning in the world. In this light, the Pietist’s purpose is a chosen framework within which they navigate life, much like the Absurdist who chooses to live fully and autonomously despite recognizing the absurdity of existence.
From a Pietist perspective, the Absurdist’s rejection of predefined purpose might be viewed as a form of self-delusion. The act of living, even without a declared purpose, imposes a structure, a boundary within which life is conducted. In this sense, the Absurdist’s choice to embrace life’s struggles without seeking external validation could be seen as indistinguishable from the Pietist’s choice to live according to their spiritual principles. Both are volitional acts, grounded in the need to define one’s existence in a world where external authorities offer little guidance or control.
This perspective raises the possibility that the distinction between Pietism and Absurdism may be less significant than it initially appears. Both movements involve a retreat into self-definition, where the individual creates meaning and purpose in response to a world that offers little in the way of inherent validation. Whether that purpose is found in a personal relationship with God, or in the conscious embrace of life’s struggles, both the Pietist and the Absurdist are engaged in the same fundamental process of creating meaning within the constraints of an uncontrollable external reality.
V. The Interplay of Rebellion, Resignation, and Autonomy
The interplay of rebellion, resignation, and autonomy in Pietism and Absurdism reveals a complex psychological response to the challenges of the human condition. Both movements engage in a form of rebellion against external circumstances—whether it is the chaos and harshness of the provincial German states and the related materialism and formalism of the Lutheran Church or the meaninglessness of the universe. This rebellion is not about changing the external world but about asserting control over one’s internal life and creating a sense of meaning that is independent of external validation.
At the same time, both Pietism and Absurdism involve a form of resignation—a recognition of the limitations imposed by the external world. This resignation is not a passive surrender but a deliberate choice to focus on what is within one’s control. For the Pietists, this meant turning inward and cultivating a personal relationship with God. For Sisyphus and the Absurdists, it meant embracing the struggle itself and finding contentment in the act of living. This resignation is a key part of the psychological strategy that allows individuals to navigate a world that otherwise offers little in the way of inherent meaning and satisfaction.
Resilience Through Rebellion and Resignation
The psychological resilience observed in both Pietism and Absurdism stems from their ability to reinterpret adversity and find strength in internal resources. The Pietists’ resilience was anchored in their faith and their personal relationship with God, allowing them to navigate a world that seemed increasingly hostile to their material interests and spiritual values. By focusing on spiritual transformation and personal piety, they found stability and purpose that transcended the material world’s limitations.
For Camus’ absurd hero and himself, resilience is achieved through the acceptance of life’s inherent meaninglessness and the conscious decision to live fully within those constraints. Sisyphus’ act of pushing the boulder, despite its futility, becomes a metaphor for human resilience. The hero’s strength lies not in overcoming the absurd but in embracing it and finding contentment in the act of living itself. This resilience is a form of defiance against the absurdity of existence, an assertion that life’s challenges, no matter how insurmountable they may seem, do not diminish the value of living.
Creating Meaning Within Constraints
Both Pietism and Absurdism advocate for creating meaning within the constraints of a world that offers little in the way of inherent purpose. For the Pietists, this meaning is found in their spiritual journey and their relationship with God, which provide a framework for understanding and navigating life’s challenges. The Pietist’s rejection of worldly concerns in favor of personal piety represents a deliberate choice to focus on what is within their control—their spiritual life—rather than being overwhelmed by the external world’s demands.
Similarly, the absurd hero, and those who emulate him, create meaning through the very act of living, despite the absence of any ultimate purpose. For Camus, the struggle itself becomes the source of meaning, as the individual engages with life on their own terms, rejecting the notion that life’s value must come from outside themselves. This act of meaning-making is entirely self-directed and deeply personal, reflecting a commitment to autonomy and agency in the face of a purposeless universe.
The connection between Pietism and Absurdism lies in this shared emphasis on creating meaning from within, rather than seeking it in the external world. Both movements recognize that the world is full of limitations and constraints, but they also assert that individuals have the power to define their own sense of purpose and fulfillment. This focus on internal resources—whether spiritual or existential—highlights the importance of personal autonomy and resilience in navigating life’s challenges.
VI. Conclusion
In examining the shared themes between Pietism and Absurdism, we find that both movements, though arising from different historical and philosophical contexts, reflect a fundamental human response to the limitations of existence. Both engage in an internal retreat to assert autonomy and create meaning within a world that offers little external validation or control. Whether through a personal relationship with God or the embrace of life’s inherent struggles, both the Pietist and the Absurdist find ways to live meaningfully and resiliently within the constraints of their respective circumstances.
Ultimately, Pietism and Absurdism reveal that the human quest for meaning and purpose transcends specific religious or philosophical frameworks. Both movements offer valuable insights into how individuals can navigate the challenges of existence, finding ways to assert control and create meaning within the limitations imposed by the external world. By comparing these two seemingly disparate approaches, we gain a deeper understanding of the universal human experience and the strategies we use to make sense of our place in the world.
[The draft essay above was inspired by two recent posts—one discussing Isaiah Berlin’s reflections on the origins of Pietism, and another examining the Proto-Indo-European root Skei- and its derivatives, which led me to a consideration of Absurdism. It occurred to me that these two movements, though seemingly distinct, seem to blossom from similar impulses. This initial exploration of that possibility is promising.
A more comprehensive exploration, currently exceeding twenty pages with a substantial bibliography, is in progress. Whether the project evolves further depends on whether the ideas presented here bear fragrant fruit or wither on the vine.]
Northcoast Antiquarian 