Medusa, After Everything According to Bernin

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who has seen too much.

@notattoo_berlin in @visionsofextasy studio, Berlin

Medusa

Looking at this sculpture — Bernini’s Medusa — the first thing that hits you is the sadness.
Not anger. Not fear. Just deep, quiet pain.

Her eyes almost closed, her mouth slightly open — not screaming, but caught in something between grief and exhaustion.
She looks devastated.

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who’s seen too much — someone transformed not just by myth, but by trauma.
Bernini shows us Medusa after everything — after the legends and the fear have been stripped away.

The snakes in her hair twist and writhe with a kind of restless panic.
There’s movement everywhere — except in her face.
That stillness in the middle of the chaos — that’s what makes her human. And tragic.
The violence is around her, not within her.

This Medusa isn’t threatening.
She looks like she’s carrying the weight of the curse, not casting it.

According to Ovid, Medusa could turn anyone who looked at her to stone.
But in this version — like in Bernini’s earlier one — we see her right at the edge of transformation.
In that unbearable moment when she sees herself.

There’s a poem by Giovan Battista Marino, from the 1600s, that captures it:

“I do not know if mortal chisel sculpted me thus,
or, in reflecting myself in a clear glass,
sight of myself made me such.”

It’s as if she looks in a mirror, realizes what she’s become — and breaks.
That’s the moment Bernini freezes. Not the monster. Not the weapon.
But the woman — right before the myth locks in.

Right before our eyes, she turns to stone.
And we can’t look away.

The Medusas I tattooed weren’t about strength or revenge.
They were about pain — real, layered pain that didn’t need to shout.
Just to be seen.

NOt

Medusa in Art

Bernini’s Medusa (Marble Bust, c. 1638–1648)

Wikipedia – Medusa (Bernini) — Detailed entry covering the creation, context, technical observations, and exhibition history.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_%28Bernini%29 Wikipedia
Capitoline Museums – “Bust of Medusa” — Museum documentation: artist (Gian Lorenzo Bernini), materials, dimensions, inventory number, and emotional interpretation.
🔗 https://museicapitolini.org/en/opera/busto-di-medusa museicapitolini.org
Musei Capitolini – Restoration of the Bust of Medusa — Insights into Bernini’s decision to depict a living Medusa in marble, the symbolic “petrifying” pun of the medium, and restoration methods using multispectral analysis.
🔗 https://museicapitolini.org/en/infopage/restauration-du-buste-de-m%C3%A9duse-par-gian-lorenzo-bernini museicapitolini.org
The Dream of Rome (Exhibition, 2011–2012) — Highlights the sculpture's loan to the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, enabling broader public access beyond Rome.
🔗 https://museicapitolini.org/en/mostra-evento/dream-rome museicapitolini.org
Capitoline Museums – Hall of the Geese — Contextual reference noting where the bust is displayed within the museum’s layout.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capitoline_Museums Wikipedia

Other Notable Artistic Depictions of Medusa

Medusa Rondanini — A Roman, late-Hellenistic or Augustan marble copy of a classical Medusa head, known for its serene beauty. Now housed in Munich’s Glyptothek.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_Rondanini Wikipedia
Cellini’s Perseus with the Head of Medusa — A politically and artistically significant bronze sculpture (1545–1554) in Florence’s Loggia dei Lanzi, capturing the moment after Perseus slays Medusa.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseus_with_the_Head_of_Medusa Wikipedia
Camille Claudel’s Perseus and the Gorgon (1902) — A deeply emotional marble sculpture displaying Claudel’s own portrayal of Medusa’s face, crafted in the wake of her complex relationship with sculptor Rodin.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseus_and_the_Gorgon Wikipedia
Luciano Garbati’s Medusa with the Head of Perseus (2008) — A feminist reinterpretation flipping the original myth, with Medusa holding Perseus’s severed head; has become a modern Me Too icon.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_with_the_Head_of_Perseus Wikipedia

Medusa in Mythology

Wikipedia – Medusa (mythology)
A comprehensive overview of Medusa's various mythological identities—from the famed Gorgon to other namesakes in Greek lore.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_(mythology)
Liebieghaus – “Medusa 'decoded’”
How a rare Medusa head from Naples was color-reconstructed and what the myth symbolized.
🔗 https://liebieghaus.de/de/node/520
The Metropolitan Museum of Art – Medusa in Ancient Greek Art
Medusa’s role in classical art—Gorgon imagery, apotropaic symbolism, and the Perseus tale.
🔗 https://www.metmuseum.org/de/essays/medusa-in-ancient-greek-art
Medusa in Cinema

Wikipedia – Medusa Against the Son of Hercules (1963)
Sword-and-sandal entry with a one-eyed Medusa, loosely tied to Perseus.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_Against_the_Son_of_Hercules
Wikipedia – Medusa (1973 film)
U.S. mystery drama set in Greece—shares the name, not the myth.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medusa_(1973_film)
Wikipedia – Vortex, the Face of Medusa (1967)
Greece–UK drama with a femme-fatale Medusa analogue on a remote island.
🔗 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vortex,_the_Face_of_Medusa
IFFR – Medusa (2021, Brazil)
A modern, stylized reimagining of the myth set in a dystopian religious society.
🔗 https://iffr.com/en/expanded/2022/films/medusa
Viennale – Medusa
Satirical/horror lens; a feminist manifesto in a Christian-fascist milieu.
🔗 https://www.viennale.at/de/film/medusa

jorge cruz5 September 2025Comment

References, processes and ideas that guide my tattoo work. It’s a space to give context and clarity to the style and the thinking behind the designs.

Medusa, After Everything According to Bernin

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who has seen too much.

Medusa

Looking at this sculpture — Bernini’s Medusa — the first thing that hits you is the sadness.
Not anger. Not fear. Just deep, quiet pain.

Her eyes almost closed, her mouth slightly open — not screaming, but caught in something between grief and exhaustion.
She looks devastated.

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who’s seen too much — someone transformed not just by myth, but by trauma.
Bernini shows us Medusa after everything — after the legends and the fear have been stripped away.

The snakes in her hair twist and writhe with a kind of restless panic.
There’s movement everywhere — except in her face.
That stillness in the middle of the chaos — that’s what makes her human. And tragic.
The violence is around her, not within her.

This Medusa isn’t threatening.
She looks like she’s carrying the weight of the curse, not casting it.

According to Ovid, Medusa could turn anyone who looked at her to stone.
But in this version — like in Bernini’s earlier one — we see her right at the edge of transformation.
In that unbearable moment when she sees herself.

There’s a poem by Giovan Battista Marino, from the 1600s, that captures it:

“I do not know if mortal chisel sculpted me thus,
or, in reflecting myself in a clear glass,
sight of myself made me such.”

It’s as if she looks in a mirror, realizes what she’s become — and breaks.
That’s the moment Bernini freezes. Not the monster. Not the weapon.
But the woman — right before the myth locks in.

Right before our eyes, she turns to stone.
And we can’t look away.

The Medusas I tattooed weren’t about strength or revenge.
They were about pain — real, layered pain that didn’t need to shout.
Just to be seen.

NOt

Medusa in Art

Bernini’s Medusa (Marble Bust, c. 1638–1648)

Other Notable Artistic Depictions of Medusa

Medusa in Mythology

Medusa in Cinema

Archive of Meaning

References, processes and ideas that guide my tattoo work. It’s a space to give context and clarity to the style and the thinking behind the designs.

Medusa, After Everything According to Bernin

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who has seen too much.

Medusa

Looking at this sculpture — Bernini’s Medusa — the first thing that hits you is the sadness. Not anger. Not fear. Just deep, quiet pain.

Her eyes almost closed, her mouth slightly open — not screaming, but caught in something between grief and exhaustion. She looks devastated.

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who’s seen too much — someone transformed not just by myth, but by trauma. Bernini shows us Medusa after everything — after the legends and the fear have been stripped away.

The snakes in her hair twist and writhe with a kind of restless panic. There’s movement everywhere — except in her face. That stillness in the middle of the chaos — that’s what makes her human. And tragic. The violence is around her, not within her.

This Medusa isn’t threatening. She looks like she’s carrying the weight of the curse, not casting it.

According to Ovid, Medusa could turn anyone who looked at her to stone. But in this version — like in Bernini’s earlier one — we see her right at the edge of transformation. In that unbearable moment when she sees herself.

There’s a poem by Giovan Battista Marino, from the 1600s, that captures it:

“I do not know if mortal chisel sculpted me thus, or, in reflecting myself in a clear glass, sight of myself made me such.”

It’s as if she looks in a mirror, realizes what she’s become — and breaks. That’s the moment Bernini freezes. Not the monster. Not the weapon. But the woman — right before the myth locks in.

Right before our eyes, she turns to stone. And we can’t look away.

The Medusas I tattooed weren’t about strength or revenge. They were about pain — real, layered pain that didn’t need to shout. Just to be seen.

NOt

Medusa in Art

Bernini’s Medusa (Marble Bust, c. 1638–1648)

Other Notable Artistic Depictions of Medusa

Medusa in Mythology

Medusa in Cinema

Looking at this sculpture — Bernini’s Medusa — the first thing that hits you is the sadness.
Not anger. Not fear. Just deep, quiet pain.

Her eyes almost closed, her mouth slightly open — not screaming, but caught in something between grief and exhaustion.
She looks devastated.

It’s not the face of a monster. It’s the face of someone who’s seen too much — someone transformed not just by myth, but by trauma.
Bernini shows us Medusa after everything — after the legends and the fear have been stripped away.

The snakes in her hair twist and writhe with a kind of restless panic.
There’s movement everywhere — except in her face.
That stillness in the middle of the chaos — that’s what makes her human. And tragic.
The violence is around her, not within her.

This Medusa isn’t threatening.
She looks like she’s carrying the weight of the curse, not casting it.

According to Ovid, Medusa could turn anyone who looked at her to stone.
But in this version — like in Bernini’s earlier one — we see her right at the edge of transformation.
In that unbearable moment when she sees herself.

“I do not know if mortal chisel sculpted me thus,
or, in reflecting myself in a clear glass,
sight of myself made me such.”

It’s as if she looks in a mirror, realizes what she’s become — and breaks.
That’s the moment Bernini freezes. Not the monster. Not the weapon.
But the woman — right before the myth locks in.

Right before our eyes, she turns to stone.
And we can’t look away.

The Medusas I tattooed weren’t about strength or revenge.
They were about pain — real, layered pain that didn’t need to shout.
Just to be seen.