A Classics scholar's interpretation 

Michiel Coxcie the Elder’s Adam and Eve is a portrait of alluring temptation. It veils with fig leaves the ideal nudity of Antiquity in favour of a Renaissance demureness. According to Michael Turner, Adam is based on the Apollo Belvedere and Eve on the Medici Venus. Apollo and Venus are two gods who represent classical beauty, forever shining in their ripe adulthood. Yet the early Greek and Latin exegetical tradition provides a strikingly different means of viewing Adam and Eve. For Theophilus of Antioch (b. unknown, d. 183-5), Adam was the age of an infant in Eden. Irenaeus of Smyrna (130-202) saw Adam and Eve as children, whose betrayal of God indicated their puerile recklessness. In the eyes of these two theologians, it was only after the Fall that the couple reached a state of maturity. 

Augustine of Hippo (354-430), who laboured at his work on ‘The Literal Meaning of Genesis’ for a gruelling fifteen years, provides our most enduring understanding of Adam and Eve. Augustine was certain that Adam “was not born small.” He argued that Adam and Eve began at some point to delight in their own light, turning away from the Light of God; thus the crime of eating the serpent’s fruit externalised their already-latent will to transgress. Opposed to the cherubs of Theophilus and Irenaeus, Augustine’s Adam and Eve are autonomous adults. Fully-grown physically, they are likewise psychologically aware of their engagement with sin. 

This understanding of Adam and Eve is complicated by their unconventional mortality. After the couple’s various tribulations, “Adam lived 930 years, and then he died,” (Genesis 5:5), while Eve evaded textual closure. Such mystery haunted the American poet Emily Dickinson, as in a letter to her friend Abiah Root, 12 January 1846: “I have lately come to the conclusion that I am Eve, alias Mrs. Adam. You know there is no account of her death in the Bible.” The Book of Genesis eschews physical descriptions of its characters, in favour of its pulsating narrative of transgression; the blank slate of Adam and Eve’s appearance, therefore, is incumbent on the individual’s desires. In this vacuum Michiel Coxcie the Elder found Apollo and Venus, and Emily Dickinson found herself. And so the gaze of history forever ricochets back upon ourselves. 

Phillip Dupesovski is a PhD candidate in Classics at the University of Sydney.

An ancient history student's perspective

Painted in egg tempera on an oak panel, Adam and Eve depicts one of the outcomes of God's creation according to the third Book of Genesis. In the sixteenth century the depiction of iconography emphasised one's hope of entering the Kingdom of Heaven through their devotion to Christ. As a devout Catholic, Coxcie was inspired by Christian artistic traditions from the Renaissance and the aesthetics of Classical antiquity (Gnann & Laurenza 1996 and Jonckheere 2013). Elements like the precise figures and naturalistic symbols display his unique combination of Italian and Flemish styles (Gnann et al). In the painting, Adam and Eve become aware of their nakedness and subsequently cover themselves with fig leaves. Additionally, aspects of the Original Sin are highlighted in the apple and snake symbols, both of which represent evil and temptation. An interesting retelling of the story of Adam and Eve is Paradise Lost, composed by John Milton (Loewenstein 2006). The poem expands upon the perspective of the pair, detailing their reaction to their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. The opening lines state:  

Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe.  

Originally, the type of fruit was not specified, yet Milton refers to the apple as the symbol of evil from one of Jerome's translations of the Latin word, malus, which means 'apple', as a noun and 'evil', as an adjective. Largely left to interpretation, the apple has become a motif of evil in Christian theology, signifying the demise of humanity. In contrast, it is emblematic of humanity's redemption in the New Testament. 

References 

Gnann, A., & Laurenza, D. (1996). Raphael's influence on Michiel Coxcie: two new drawings and a painting. Master Drawings, 293-302. 

Jonckheere. K. (2013). Michel Coxcie. De Vlaamse Rafaël (Löwen, Museum M), Löwen, pp. 66-68. 

Loewenstein, D. (2006). Milton: Paradise Lost. CUP Archive, introduction pp. 21-25. 

Rose Fisher is in her third year of a Bachelor of Ancient History at Macquarie University, where she is currently focusing on the impacts of the illicit trade on Early Cycladic Sculpture. Formally volunteering at institutions such as the Sydney Jewish Museum and the Australian Archaeological Institute in Athens, Rose has developed an appreciation for the importance of education across all areas of history and archaeology. From this Rose has recently taken up a position at Museums of History NSW, where she is fostering an interest in local and public History.

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A fashion historian's interpretation 

The story of Adam and Eve tells us a lot about dress. Adam and Eve were created naked and did not know nor care until they bit the apple from the Tree of Knowledge - an unforgivably sinful act that in turn made them ashamed of their bodies. This painting is a depiction of them after this moment, with their genitals concealed under vine leaves to maintain decency. Their sexual organs are considered so shameful that they must be concealed, and are therefore dressed, both physically with leaves, and metaphorically, with social codes. They are still nude, but no longer naked; clothed in the social conventions of humility, modesty, and privacy. The body is a social body, situated within culture, wrapped in meaning, and dressed accordingly. Humans are born naked and almost immediately clothed. Thus, our understanding of the body is of it as a dressed body, a 'second skin' that reflects our identity, experiences and social projections. Internalised shame around nakedness is a taught behaviour, it is not inherent, and different cultures treat nudity and the dressing/undressing of the body in different ways.

Outside of religious creation stories, there is much debate over the origins of clothes, why humans began dressing and ornamenting their bodies. The most obvious answer is weather, that to brace against cold or rainy days humans shielded themselves in furs and textiles as a protective measure. But many archaeological digs find beads and jewellery, headwear and evidence of ochre painted on the body. All of these would provide decoration and aesthetic enhancement rather than practical protection, implying that even early humans desired to ornament their bodies, an act of dressing that was a reflection of their community and understanding of the self. The body is dressed in certain ways, for specific contexts, as a result of social codes and conventions. The vine leaf is not a practical choice of dress for the body (one wonders how it is secured to the body in a time prior to the invention of sewing tools); rather, it acts as a metaphor to understand the significant role of dress across human society.

Frances Harvey is a designer and researcher based on Gadigal land. She has a Bachelor of Arts (History) from UWA and is an Honours graduate from the UTS Fashion & Textiles degree. Her Honours collection was shown in the Future Fashion exhibit at the Powerhouse Museum in 2022, and she was a finalist for NSW Fashion Design Student of the Year. She is currently a PhD candidate at UTS, exploring the socio-cultural phenomenon of dressing the dead for burial. Frances' design work and research centres around historical inquiry, repurposing of textiles, and material experimentation.

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