The reclining nude pirate
What does a painting of a sassy, partially nude, and probably inebriated redheaded pirate have to do with art history and a family theme park attraction? A lot! If you’re a fan of Disneyland, pirates, or art history, you're in for a treat. If you've ever set sail from Lafitte's Landing and headed down into the pirate fray on the Pirates of the Caribbean attraction, you've undoubtedly caught a glimpse of this partying female pirate with her distinctive smirk. After sailing down some dark waterfalls into Pirate’s Cove, guests eventually pass into the Crew’s Quarters. This is where to be on the lookout for this jaunty lady.
The painting in question is known as Portrait of Things to Come and was painted by Disney Legend and Imagineer Marc Davis. I’ve always been fascinated by this painting, not just because it shows a reclining nude in a Disneyland attraction but also because Davis borrowed from some pretty well-known genres and paintings in art history that add excellent tongue-in-cheek layers to this pirate painting. At least, this is what I’d argue after spending far too much time with this painting. As far as I know, no one else has tackled all these art-historical connections, so I figured it was high time to dive in.
So, are you curious how this sassy redhead connects to a wide range of famous artworks and long-standing genres? Well, get comfy, and let’s set sail on these stranger tides while singing along with our roguish pirates belting out “Yo-Ho.” That said, if images of nudes, alcoholic revelry, or sexual innuendos make you uncomfortable, then you might consider stopping here. In fact, I plan on several posts about this painting, so ye be warned.
Welcome, Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-enthusiasts
I know there are many Pirates of the Caribbean enthusiasts out there. I am one of them. As a kid, it was the first attraction I was obsessed with, utterly in awe of the sights, sounds, and smell of the attraction. That chlorinated, somewhat damp, and musty smell sticks with you! There are even people who have tried to make candles to replicate it. But I digress. . . With the innocence and determination accompanying youth, I was sure I was destined to be a pirate lass somehow.
Fast forward a few decades from the 1980s, and I still adore (nay, obsess!) over the Pirates of the Caribbean. I, like many other Disney enthusiasts, enjoy learning about the history of this attraction, which opened on March 18, 1967, as a premier attraction in the new themed land known as New Orleans Square. [Fun fact: the first book in my Disneyland art history series is about New Orleans Square!]
At the time, it didn’t relate to any specific Disney animation or film, but Walt Disney long desired it as part of Disneyland. For years, the attraction was intended as a walk-through experience filled with famous pirates fashioned in wax. But the wild success of the audio-animatronics at Walt Disney’s Carousel of Progress at the 1964 New York World’s Fair, there was a pivot to the attraction that currently exists. Today, of course, there has been an entire film franchise built around the attraction and many updates to it, including Captain Jack Sparrow, Captain Barbossa, and others from that film franchise. The attraction has also undergone other updates to remove some questionable storylines—traces of them remain, though! Perhaps some of you will feel that our risqué female pirate falls into the questionable category….
Others, including Jason Surrell and Richard Snow, have detailed the attraction’s timeline and its updates and shifting storylines—and for that reason, I will not rehash those here. As I mentioned earlier, though, I’d like to add another dimension to the attraction’s history by looking at one of the most iconic “things” in it and how it relates to art history: The painting of the bare-chested red-headed female pirate painted by none other than legendary Imagineer Marc Davis. I used to be able to see the painting illuminated in the attraction; the past few times I’ve sailed the Caribbean seas on the attraction, I’ve noticed that it is distinctly not as well lit. Is the painting on its way out? Is it too famous to remove, so instead, it is now cloaked in darkness? Is it perhaps too risqué?
Let’s examine some of my research, and once you have read my argument, you can decide how to answer those questions. I do want to note that there are too many art historical references for one blog post, so stay tuned for several in the future that cover this painting in more depth! I'll reveal a few other secrets in my newsletter, too. You can sign up here to be "in the know."
The Painting: A Pirate’s Delight
On Pirates, as you navigate past the thunderous shipwreck scene, complete with a skeleton at the helm braving the storm, you find yourself in the heart of the Crew’s Quarters. Here, the pirates are in full swing, reveling with barrels of rum and hearty laughter.
Above the bar, your eyes are drawn to the striking painting of a red-headed female pirate lounging with an air of unbothered confidence. Her lopsided smirk suggests that she’s clearly enjoying herself and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.
She reclines against a red velvet chair, one arm resting on a pile of ripe fruit. Her other hand holds a goblet so that a blond-headed, tatted-up cherub can refill it with wine. It must be hot where she is—after all, it IS the Caribbean. The pirate lady is, shall we say, scantily clad at best. She opted for no shirt. Though staying true to the family-friendly nature of Disneyland, her long locks conveniently cover her bare chest. She wears a short skirt, or what looks like a small piece of fabric draped over her waist. And she has matching socks to boot. A small pistol hangs from a brown leather holster around her waist. Like the merry cherub, our pirate friend has two tats: a butterfly and a pierced heart. (Fun fact: I have published extensively on pierced hearts!)
My favorite part of this scene is the group of three seagulls, who stand eagerly awaiting their moment to steal the delicious snacks. [I can’t help but think of the seagulls saying “Mine!” from Finding Nemo.]
And where are we? The painting doesn’t give us a clear indication. We have the luxurious chair, but then behind her is the ocean and a ship. Off to the right, we have a black sail with a skull and crossbones—a pirate sail. Is her ship ruined? Did she stage a picnic on the beach? Is she resting before a painted backdrop? Perhaps we will never know!
Marc Davis borrows from art history!
What tickles me about this painting is how cleverly it borrows from art-historical images and tropes, such as reclining nudes, classical mythology, and elite portraiture! Davis was obviously having fun.
Do you know what one of the most common subjects in the history of European (or, dare I say, Western) art is? The reclining female nude. Don’t get me wrong: there are plenty of standing nudes, too (hello, David!), but tilting that body horizontally has a long legacy in painting and sculpting.
You are likely familiar with some of the most widely recognized ones, whether you know it or not. These include paintings by Italian Renaissance artists like Titian and Giorgione.
In each, a nude woman reclines on a bed or the ground, propped up against some pillows. Davis’s pirate rests similarly to these two women, though instead of a pillow, she rests against the red velvet chair.
I often think about how, in Davis’s painting, the red-headed pirate looks directly out at us with a crooked smirk on her face. It reminds me of Titian’s choice to have his nude gaze out at us as well. We are simultaneously voyeurs and those being watched—this differs from paintings like Giorgione’s, where we are more like peeping Toms. The confident gaze of Davis’s pirate and Titian’s woman is almost confrontational as if they dare us to say something about their pose and actions.
Now, many of these famous reclining nudes are identified as Venus figures. Venus is the goddess of love in Greco-Roman mythology. Giorgione’s Venus sleeps outside, while Titian’s Venus of Urbino rests on the bed after some suggested sexual activity with all those tousled sheets.
We can go way further back to ancient Rome and see Venus hanging out on a cockle shell in a wall painting from the city of Pompeii.
Fast-forward to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and artists still enjoyed displaying Venus lounging on her side and in the nude, whether French Rococo artist François Boucher in Venus at Her Toilet or the academic painter Alexandre Cabanel, whose Venus seems oblivious to our presence. However, she is surrounded by a whole bunch of putti or cherubs.
There are too many examples to list here, but you get my point: female reclining nudes are a longstanding genre of art, and they often feature the goddess of love herself. Venus’s winged-son Cupid or other little cherubs often hang out with her in paintings. Marc Davis added a cherub to his painting, underscoring all these classical connections. Cherubs frequently pour wine for Venus, and wouldn’t you know it, the cherub in the pirate painting does the same—though this cherub fits our hard-partying pirate theme. He’s got the tat to prove it.
The original theme for the attraction
The use of the reclining nude trope is clever, too, because it ties into the larger narrative of the attraction. Our lady pirate imbibes, and so do the skeleton pirates near her. Our lady pirate is modeled on images of the goddess of love and reclining nudes—images intended to titillate as we look upon all the exposed flesh. Later in the attraction, there used to be women being sold at an auction as objects, including an attractive redhead, followed by scenes of lusty pirates chasing women.
A refurbishment in 1997 altered those parts of the story, eliminating women being sold and soon making the redhead a pirate herself (named Redd) and having women chase the pirate men.
Davis’s red-headed pirate painting still works in the attraction. Some connect her to the character Redd (there are different versions of the story now). Our pirate friend seems brazen, more self-aware than most reclining nude women in art history, and she’s having her good time. She exudes a cocky confidence.
The connections to art history don’t begin and end with reclining nudes and Venus imagery, though. I can talk about elite portraiture, other figures connected to drinking and partying, and women brandishing swords in art history—and connections to legendary female pirates like Mary Read. But that is for a future blog post!
Until next time, may your journeys be filled with adventure and your discoveries as delightful as a pirate’s treasure! Also, consider signing up for my newsletter for more insider info and behind-the-scenes stories. Goodies there won’t appear anywhere else.
Learn more
Read about Marc Davis on D23.
Jason Surrell, Pirates of the Caribbean: From the Magic Kindom to the Movies, 2006.
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