Between Two Fires
In all likelihood, this is the best-known painting by legendary American artist Francis Davis Millet*. It is often applauded as the pinnacle of his catalogue, with particular attention being paid to the use of lighting and the humorous, charming body language of his figures**.
In addition to run-of-the-mill art criticism, this painting has found itself the subject of much more sophisticated sociopolitical commentary. To quote Professor Grace Woods-Puckett, Ph.D.: “Pictures like … Millet’s Between Two Fires do more than just actively reconstruct the past: they actively mythologize it. In so doing, these images demonstrate an increasingly recursive facet of contemporary American identity: nostalgia for an imagined, possibly fantastical, history that legitimates our present and slips ever further from our grasp.” This is precisely the sort of statement that you’d expect from somebody named Woods-Puckett.
Fear not: I will make no attempt to assess how this painting might “...relate to some of the most xenophobic and retrogressive tendencies in recent political history…”***. Instead, I will offer unapologetically philistine speculation as to what is occurring in the scene illustrated for us by Millet.
The Puritan, our uptight character in the center of the piece, is clearly portrayed as being quite uncomfortable. He has the uneasy posture of a man who wishes to either ball up into the fetal position or else spring to his feet and make a hasty exit while still in possession of some vestigial dignity.
Now, I considered the possibility that this sorry creature dressed like a cross between Abraham Lincoln and a 17th century goth-rock aesthete has been caught in an affair and finds himself discussing the matter with all involved parties; one could easily interpret his expression as that of the preacher who kissed the cobbler’s wife. However, the two women****, while confrontational, are addressing him with an attitude that is decidedly playful.
Instead, it is quite clear to me that regardless of their relationship to the Puritan*****, these women are teasing him. This also fits with the fact that, though flushed to a shade somewhat deeper than that of a plum, the man appears to be hesitantly amused by his persecutors.
While it’s a long shot, I rather hope that Millet, in a fit of botanical confusion, painted holly on the chandelier where he meant to paint mistletoe and these two women are petitioning the sour-faced fellow for kisses******.
*And yet here you are, learning about it for the first time.
**To the best of my knowledge, nobody has much to say about whatever the hell kind of bread that is sitting on the table. It looks like something your doctor would be sorry to find growing in your armpit.
***I’m not nearly clever enough to say such clever, clever things.
****Aka “Fires”
*****My guess is wife and housemaid. Or Wife and daughter. Or both are servants. Or he knows neither and they’re a duo of burglars accosting him over his evening meal.
******A notion that would have likely been amusing to Millet, as the idea of being a “puritan” during the 19th century was commonly (if erroneously) associated with being adverse to any expression of sexuality.