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Orpheus

Orpheus (Ancient Greek: Ὀρφεύς) is a hero of Greek mythology, son of the king of Thrace Œagre and the muse Calliope. Poet and musician, he was sometimes considered a prophet and inspired a religious movement called «orphism». Orpheus was part of the Argonauts; his descent into Hell and his failure to bring his wife Eurydice back into the world of the living shaped his myth.

It seems that the myth of Orpheus is not unique to the culture of ancient Greece, and that it has older origins, perhaps paleolithic.

Apollo offers Orpheus a seven-string lyre and the Muses teach him the art of playing it: he adds two strings to his lyre, thus obtaining the symbolic figure of nine which corresponds to the number of the Muses. Orpheus' lyre was made by Hermes from a turtle shell.

Léna h. Coms, Orpheus, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2011 (destroyed in a fire in 2021)
Léna h. Coms, Orphée, acrylic on canvas, 70 x 50 cm, 2011 (disappeared in a fire in 2021)
Léna h. Coms, *Orpheus*, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2011 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Orpheus* (version…
Léna h. Coms, Orphée (version lyre-carapace de tortue), acrylic on canvas, 100 x 70 cm, 2011 (disappeared in a fire in 2021)
Léna h. Coms, *Orpheus Among the Stars*, acrylic on canvas, 50 × 50 cm, 2019 (possibly somewhere in Senlis…).

Léna h. Coms, Orpheus Among the Stars, acrylic on canvas, 50 × 50 cm, 2019 (possibly somewhere in Senlis…).

Léna h. Coms, *Orpheus Among the Stars*,  drawing 21x29,7cm.

Léna h. Coms, Orpheus Among the Stars, drawing 21x29,7cm, 2019 

This series centred on Saint John the Baptist, cousin of Jesus and a prophetic figure in the biblical narrative, is less concerned with the religious dimension of the character than with the mythological power of his story. John the Baptist appears as a solar, ascetic, almost magnetic figure: the one who announces, the one who comes before, the one whose words seem to possess a power that extends beyond his own existence.

Opposite him stands Salome, whose dance and desire lead to the beheading of the prophet, a recurring subject in biblical painting. Between them unfolds a troubling relationship to power, fascination, and manipulation: John’s body becomes a relic, an object of desire, but also an object of possession.

In my work, this story resonates with that of Orpheus, the founding figure of Orphism, whose words and song likewise possess an almost supernatural power. Like John the Baptist, Orpheus is a threshold figure: between the living and the dead, between the human and the divine worlds, between light and darkness. Both are men whose words seem capable of acting upon the world — right up to the moment of their own disappearance.

Saint John and Orpheus converge around the same solar figure, luminous yet ambiguous: a presence that attracts, fascinates, and perhaps manipulates. Behind the prophet or the inspired poet, the singer of Orphism, another, more unsettling figure emerges — one whose power lies as much in what he reveals as in what he exerts upon others.

The series thus explores the shifting boundaries between myth, desire, fascination, and power, bringing the biblical imagination into dialogue with ancient narratives and the archetypal figures that continue to inhabit our contemporary imagination.

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist I*, acrylic on canvas, 60× 60 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist I, acrylic on canvas, 60 × 60 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist II*, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist II, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist III*, acrylic on canvas, 65 × 45 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist III, acrylic on canvas, 65 × 45 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist IV*, acrylic on canvas, 47 × 55 cm, 2011 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist IV, acrylic on canvas, 47 × 55 cm, 2011 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist V*, acrylic on canvas, 55 × 46 cm, 2010. (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist V, acrylic on canvas, 55 × 46 cm, 2010 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist VI*, acrylic on canvas, 100 × 70 cm, 2016 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist VI, acrylic on canvas, 100 × 70 cm, 2016 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, To Be the Creator of the World for a Moment, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2018 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, To Be the Creator of the World for a Moment, acrylic on canvas, 70 × 50 cm, 2018 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *Saint John the Baptist (Red Series)*, acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, 2017 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, Saint John the Baptist (Red Series), acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, 2017 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, *I Was a King Without a Kingdom*, acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, 57 × 45 cm, 2018 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).
Léna h. Coms, *I Was a King Without a Kingdom*, acrylic and oil pastels on canvas, 57 × 45 cm, 2018 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Léna h. Coms, I Was a King Without a Kingdom, acrylic and oil pastels on canvas, 57 × 45 cm, 2018 (destroyed in a fire in 2021).

Inspired by Alexandre Brandy’s novel Il y a longtemps que je mens, Paris, Grasset, 2018, p. 14.

One of the passages resonates with one of my series — the one featuring tags — and therefore found its place on a canvas that had been waiting for exactly this to be completed.

The tags evoke days spent in prison and the desire for power.

“I was a KING without a kingdom. John Lackland. No, I did have a kingdom, but it lay in ruins, scattered among one of my boxes. A kingdom made up of little coloured bricks, these multicoloured ruins that I then had to assemble, and that I now have to put in order, for the best, in order to keep building and playing — composing with the ruins of my memory.”

The author also refers to Louis XIV’s mottos: NEC PLURIBUS IMPAR (“above the others”) and ULTIMA RATIO REGUM (“the last argument of kings”); p. 107.

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