Riding the Waves

I know the Baroque period is filled with images of the Rape of Europa (with reference to the mythological scam of Zeus appearing in the form of a bull to the maiden Europa). There is a fabulously ornate version of the subject in the Philadelphia Museum of Art collection. It has been hanging in the same place since the museum was erected in the 20s.

As youthful museum aides during our high school years, my friend Linda and I were in the museum every Saturday performing assigned tasks like wrapping Christmas cards to be sold in the shop and pointing patrons to the ladies room. In exchange we could roam the museum in the late afternoon discovering all of the treasures.

One Saturday we turned the corner to see the white bull fantasy. The bull was bedecked in flowers, hovered over by troops of cupids, wearing a goofy expression on his bovine mug. We had no idea about the apocryphal story of seduction. We laughed explosively. We couldn't stop. We laughed so hard a laugh that we couldn't walk or stand. We were simultaneously doubled over in mirth and pain, afraid the museum guard would toss us out.

Maybe we were hysterical with adolescent intuition about sex (mythological or physical). Today, every time I think about human sexuality (from fable and from experience) I feel similarly transported. It is goofy, after all.