There is a long tradition in art and symbolism of the lone rider and their steed. Medieval art often depicted these figures victorious and virtuous, returning from hardships or slaying beasts. These are nigh mythological figures of unreal strength, courage, and heroism, such as “Napoleon Crossing the Alps” by Jacques-Louis David, a series painted from 1801 - 1805, arguably the most commonly referenced depiction of Napoleon Bonaparte:
Our rider stares directly at us, in challenge and defiance. He rears the horse mightily, motioning with his off hand to order his men and drive them forward. In the background, placed in the frame intentionally beneath the raised hooves, the army is minimized by the titanic steed, nearly trampled by its power. The men are small, weaker, and distant, their bodies pressed forward in their labor pushing their heavy weapons of war. Napoleon is the opposite, leaning backward confidently, majestically: quite literally large and in charge.
There is a different kind of lone rider and their steed. One that evokes melancholy, isolation, and travel. This art focuses the minimalism of a person and the vastness of their occupied expanse.
“Lonely Ride” (1889) by Hans Thoma is a painting with all these elements. We only see the rider's back as they leave us. The figure doesn't stare down the viewer, instead looking out at the landscape and road ahead. The horizon is vast and natural, dwarfing the rider and steed. The sky is heavy and stormy, the world’s muted colors leave us, and the rider, uncertain about the future. The outer expanse and the mystery of the rider give a sense of a deep and resonating interiority. We wonder at the vastness beyond them, and at the internal journey within the rider themselves.
This is the tradition of The Wanderer. A lone, and lonely, figure on a journey into the vast unknown. What will they find? What will they find within themselves?
THE WANDERER. Coming soon to a Mythwork near you.
