Is Edvard Munch’s Vampire a Sinister Femme Fatale or a Gentle Lover?

In 2013, Norway’s Minister of Culture, Hadia Tajik, referred to Edvard Munch (1863–1944) as one of the most significant artists from Norway, as well as a prominent figure globally. This sentiment is widely shared. Hailing from Ådalsbruk, Munch was recognized as one of Norway’s leading artists by 1915, and today he is perceived not just as an artist, but as a highly influential cultural icon.

Throughout his remarkable six-decade career, Munch produced thousands of works across various styles and techniques. Nevertheless, he is predominantly celebrated for a select group of Symbolist paintings from the 1890s, forming part of the project The Frieze of Life, which explores themes of love and death.

Vampire is widely interpreted as a metaphor for the femme fatale, a fatal woman draining the vitality of a man. The term femme fatale was popularly used across Europe during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, referring to the archetype of a seductive and morally ambiguous woman who captivates men with her charm and femininity. However, a deeper exploration of the piece may unveil an entirely different narrative.

Berlin

Munch crafted his initial interpretation of this motif in 1893 while in Berlin, after being invited by the Association of Berlin Artists to hold a solo exhibition a year earlier. The event sparked immediate controversy and shutdown after merely five days, establishing Munch’s notoriety in the city. Amused by the entire scenario, he took it upon himself to re-launch the exhibition.

Thanks to the media’s eagerness to criticize him for showcasing “unfinished” or “lackluster” artwork, Munch seized the opportunity to present his pieces across various German cities, attracting viewers eager to witness the source of the uproar. This series of incidents is now termed the “Munch Affair,” marking a pivotal moment in the emergence of the Berlin secession, which symbolized a divide between progressive artists and the established Academy dominated by conservative traditions.

During his four years in Berlin, Munch formed friendships with fellow artists at The Black Piglet tavern. He developed a close bond with Stanisław Przybyszewski, a Polish writer fascinated by satanism and mysticism, along with a beautiful Norwegian music student, Dagny Juel, who later wed Przybyszewski. Juel quickly developed into Munch’s unreciprocated love, embodying a series of women he depicted in countless drawings and paintings as either figures of longing and envy or mythological beings such as mermaids and sphinxes.

Considering Munch’s turbulent romantic history, the allure of the femme fatale motif, and the myriad of mythological representations within his art, it seems plausible to interpret Vampire more literally. This perspective aligns with the context of Munch’s era, though counterarguments exist.

Love, Pain, and Stanisław Przybyszewski

When Munch showcased his first Vampire at the Unter den Linden gallery in Berlin in 1893, it was originally titled Love and Pain. Subsequently, Przybyszewski, a devoted admirer of Munch’s art, later named the piece Vampire in three of his literary works, including Psychic Naturalism (1892), The Work of Edvard Munch (1894), and On the Paths of the Soul (1896), which led Munch to adopt both the title and the concept.

When he later presented two versions of the motif in Stockholm in October 1894, he opted not only to title them Vampire but also to incorporate excerpts from Psychic Naturalism in the exhibition catalog while never fully discarding his initial vision for the artwork.

In 1918, Munch exhibited yet another version at the Blomqvist auction house in Oslo, titling the piece Woman Who Kisses a Man on the Neck. In a 1933 commentary, Munch shared the following thoughts about the painting:

What distinguishes this painting from other depictions of women in Munch’s oeuvre is its nuance, ambiguity, and enigmatic quality. The canvas reveals no visible blood or violence, even though Munch was not averse to portraying brutality.

Interpretively, we see expressions: the woman appears flushed and vibrant, while the man’s features are ghostly and lifeless. The depiction of the woman’s hair, often likened to a “bloody rain,” might suggest an aggressive attack, yet it can also be viewed as a nurturing embrace. Similar dualities exist within the couple’s poses, reminiscent of another of Munch’s motifs titled Consolation. The dark shadow encircling the figures can be interpreted as either a threat or a sanctuary enveloping two lovers.

Notably, the earliest sketches of the Vampire motif date back to 1885 or 1886, predating Munch’s time spent with his provocative artist friends in Berlin and a violent incident instigated by one of his lovers, Tulla Larsen, who shot him in the hand, fostering feelings of resentment and paranoia within him. At that time, the initial sketches also precede any definitive signs of misogyny within his artistic expressions.

Vampire Through the Years

Munch continued to explore this motif until 1930, producing various versions that differ in both technique and composition. At the Munch Museum, there are over 90 iterations of the motif, many of which share visual similarities, particularly graphic prints created between 1893 and 1902.

Throughout the 1910s and 1920s, Munch’s palette brightened, contributing to the development of Vampire in the Forest, where the male figure was depicted with more bodily presence, shedding his signature pale visage. One sketch showcases the woman with closed lips as she embraces the man.

Identities of the Figures

Art historians agree that the male figure in the early and most renowned versions of Vampire is modeled after Adolf Paul, a Swedish writer and friend of Munch from Berlin. Paul recounted a visit to Munch’s studio where he observed the artist painting a nude female model, only to be invited to pose near her, maintaining his formal outdoor attire. This narrative provides a surprisingly mundane backstory, illuminating the contrasted states of the two subjects.

It is speculated that Munch sought to illustrate himself and Emilie “Milly” Thaulow, his first love. Munch met the 25-year-old Thaulow in 1885, coincidentally around the same time he created the earliest sketches of Vampire. Their relationship was short-lived, ending swiftly due to her marriage, leaving Munch heartbroken. Thus, portraying her as a vampire could symbolize retaliation for her decision to choose her husband over him, encapsulating the essence of losing happiness and vitality.

Story of Two Drawings

Around 1885, Munch established a studio in Kristiania (now Oslo), where he and Thaulow could secretly meet. He recounted in his journal a moment of longing, as a character named Nansen—his literary alter ego—waited for his lover in a dim room during a late afternoon.

This account connects to two specific drawings—On the Sofa and Vampire/Consolation. The former depicts a figure seated on a couch beside a window, while the latter represents an early embodiment of the Vampire theme, differing through various elements, such as the woman being clothed and the presence of a bench beside her. These variations in composition and pose suggest that the man possesses a certain level of autonomy and determination within the scenario. Both illustrations resonate with the quoted recollection and may disclose the authentic origin, meaning, and atmosphere surrounding Vampire.

The dual title Vampire/Consolation suggests that the depicted scene merges elements from two distinct motifs. In Consolation, Munch often shows the woman in an emotionally fraught state while being embraced by a man. Furthermore, an 1895 lithograph at the Munch Museum features a window akin to that in the On the Sofa drawing. The interpretation of this artwork as a clandestine rendezvous between two lovers grows increasingly plausible. Their doomed relationship suggests a sense of impending sorrow, from the perspective of the man, the loss becomes more pronounced.

Munch and Love

For Munch, love embodied a complex emotion intertwining tenderness and intimacy with anguish, jealousy, and suffering. The exhibition text for the Munch Museum’s collection describes: “[Munch] depicted love as a conflict between two individuals. […] In his works, passion coexists with pain, desire is intertwined with loss.” This dichotomy is palpable when viewing Vampire.

Artist’s Mysterious Intent

Within Munch’s perspective, the notion of pain associated with a vampire’s bite wonderfully encapsulates his understanding of love and relationships. Vampire reflects its time, connecting to the emergence of Symbolism and Expressionism, while also resonating with the themes of fin de siècle—the decadent finale of the 19th century—and the femme fatale.

However, the ambiguity and lack of definitive interpretation allow us to view the painting as a representation of love. This evokes an experience that can be overwhelming and destructive, in which one partner (in Munch’s experience, often a woman) exerts control, draining the energy and happiness from the other. Yet, this essence can also signify a safe, intimate, and unique connection. Ultimately, the masterpiece encapsulates the intricacies of love, leading Munch to withhold any conclusive elucidation, rendering it an enigma.

Author’s bio

Zuzanna Borowska holds a Master’s degree in Art History and a Bachelor’s degree in Norwegian Philology. Residing in Gdańsk, she focuses on modern Norwegian art with Edvard Munch as a central theme in her Instagram project Beyond Munch’s.