All appearances seem to indicate that I am in a rut about coloring. True though it may be, any new activity leads to new discoveries, and I am on a roll.
Lately, most of my activity involves themes from Victorian greeting cards, namely Christmas cards. I am hoping some of my efforts can be made into my own “semi-original” cards for the coming season. Consequently, I have been researching original cards from pre-WWII eras so that my creations render authentic colors, designs and clothing styles, and because I need to have a head start if I want to use them in six months.
Victorian Christmas cards feature two main themes: Santa Claus and, usually happy, well-dressed children. The scenes are of an abundant life, marked by love, adoration and beauty. It is in this era when the image of Santa Claus became stylized from: a Middle Ages version of a gaunt, stooped, elderly religious man, wearing a plain brown or sometimes green robe, into the iconic, cheery and benevolent figure, dressed in rich, red, fur trimmed attire that is promoted today.
The factor new to me is that St. Nicholas has an evil twin, Krampus. While perhaps esoteric to us, Krampus was frequently a theme on Christmas cards and was apparently well known. His part in Christmas lore is thought to have originated in the Alpine regions of Europe, along with much of the tradition celebrated by present day American Christians.
Krampus is no “right jolly old elf” his depiction is as a dark, hairy and horned monster, with hooves and a bright red, serpentine tongue thrusting from his mouth. His arms end in long, sharp claws and his weight is counterbalanced by a long, hairy tail. He carries birch switches, or sometimes a whip, for beating naughty children. The basket he carries on his back, carries no toys, but is used instead to transport his victims back to his lair, where they will be tortured and eaten. The good and evil spirits often travelled together — with St. Nick visiting only the good children, leaving the misbehaved to the mercy of Krampus.
Imagine receiving a Christmas card featuring a terrified little boy, captured in the claws of this monster. He is being lowered into a yawning basket, by his hair and the seat of his pants, while Krampus grimaces in cruel anticipation. All this is occurring while his innocent sister is playing nearby, oblivious or unaware of the fate her brother is about to endure. Sometimes Krampus is shown, lurking menacingly in the shadows wherever children can be found playing their games. The card reads (in German), “Greetings from Krampus.”
The Krampus legend threatens children with much worse than a lump of coal left by Santa in their Christmas stocking. The idea of coercing children into good behavior reminds us that the Victorian era was more than sweetness and light, particularly when it came to children who fell short of expected behavior. Phrases such as “children should be seen, and not heard” reflect less than a child centered society. As a child with a vivid imagination, I probably would have grown up to be a serial killer or a very nasty woman at any rate.
Those who enjoy the horror genres in film and fiction or who are fascinated by Gothic imagery in theater and the arts may be familiar with Krampus. Also, Krampus has re-appeared as a counter sentiment to the dominance and pervasiveness of Christmas. Certainly, there is a cultural role for “the dark side,” but as one who must sometimes be reminded “it’s only a movie” when the movie has turned violent, I am glad I escaped.
