This is an outtake from the first chapter of Darwin’s Wonders. Originally, I planned to trace the grotesque from its origins in Roman frescoes through Wolfgang Kayser’s theory to Bakhtin. But the chapter became too long and complex. I also wanted to give Darwin’s own grotesque images room to unfold before bringing these vivid earlier images into the picture.
Still, the history of the grotesque is fascinating, especially the way these frescoes oppose classical ideas of order and beauty. This section took the chapter on a detour, but I think it’s a detour worth sharing. Hope you enjoy!
Into the grotto
By the year 1480, Nero’s Golden House, the Domus Aurea, lay buried beneath centuries of dust and rubble. Renaissance artists lowered themselves into the ruins — among them young Raphael and Luca Signorelli. By the flickering light of an oil lamp, they explored what they thought was a cave, a grotto. And there it was.
Floral patterns alive with winged lions, their bodies woven into the vines like blossoms growing from them. Human-faced creatures part animal, part leaf. The meandering patterns were everywhere, filling walls and ceilings. There was no frame to contain them, or if there was a frame, it belonged to yet another meandering pattern. There was no beginning or end, no center.
It must have been dizzying, like stepping into a foreign world. The dim light wavering across the walls. Someone shouting, ragazzi, come over here, look at this. Footsteps echoing in the darkness.
What they discovered flatly contradicted the classical ornaments of their time. When they thought of frescoes, they thought of clear lines, architectural elements like pillars, order and stability. Those ornaments were arranged around quiet images, mostly biblical scenes, and stayed in the background.
But this… what is this?
The frescoes in the Golden House gave the grotesque its name, along with its core principles: the blending of worlds, the playful crossing of boundaries. Humans turn into plants, animals into ornaments, vines into bodies. Nothing stays fixed or pure; every form is in motion, half something else. The high and the low, the beautiful and the absurd — it’s a world where opposites meet and distinctions blur. A flowing symmetry that seems to breathe movement and interconnection.
Once the grotto was open, its restless hybrids began to spread across Italy’s walls and ceilings. Renaissance artists copied the images, passed them on to their students, and made them their own.
The most prominent example is Raphael’s loggia in the Vatican. His style differs notably from the frescoes of the Domus Aurea, yet the main theme of the grotesque remains intact. Ceilings bloom with vines, corridors come alive with winged beasts. Instead of neat narrative scenes, an abundance of detail fills every inch of space.
While Raphael perfected the ornamental elegance of the grotesque, others, like Luca Signorelli, pushed it into more experimental and playful territory. Not far from Rome, in Orvieto, he decorated the Chapel of San Brizio with a wealth of grotesque details.
The image below shows the Greek philosopher Empedocles leaning from an illusional window, admiring the surrounding ornaments. The painting seems to mock the idea of the portrait: we can’t even see his face, nothing here is about him. His frame doesn’t separate inside and outside; it becomes permeable and part of the ornaments. While there is a clear center of the image, Empedocles’ gaze draws us away from it and towards the restless edges.
And what a beautiful, busy mess he is watching. Feathered dragons with human heads (and boobies), aquatic creatures, bodies twisting into vines. Every figure merges with another; it’s impossible to say where one begins or ends. This is the signature of the grotesque: everything moves, everything belongs to the same living whole. It is not hard to see where artists like Luca found their inspiration.
So, here we are. This was how the grotesque acquired its name. From the beginning it stirred ambivalent reactions. While some delighted in its exuberant play and sense of freedom, others felt a strange discomfort, unsettled by images that seemed to disturb the natural order.
Here is a great page that allows you to see the chapel of San Brizio in high definition.