You’ve seen it on postcards, in romantic movies, and maybe even on a cheesy Valentine's Day card. Two naked lovers, lost in a moment so intense the rest of the world basically disappears. It’s Rodin the kiss sculpture, arguably the most famous depiction of passion in the history of art. But here’s the thing: most people think they’re looking at a celebration of true love.
They aren't.
If you look closer—and I mean really look at the history and the tiny details Rodin snuck into the stone—the story is actually a total nightmare. It’s about adultery, a double murder, and a one-way ticket to the second circle of Hell. Honestly, calling it "The Kiss" is kind of a sanitized rebranding that happened years after Auguste Rodin first started messing with the clay.
The Secret Identity of the Lovers
Rodin didn't set out to make a generic monument to romance. He was actually obsessed with Dante Alighieri’s Inferno. Back in 1880, he got a massive commission to create "The Gates of Hell," a set of bronze doors for a museum that never even got built. The plan was to cover these doors with hundreds of tiny, writhing figures representing different sins.
The couple in the sculpture are Paolo and Francesca.
Francesca was a real 13th-century noblewoman. Her dad basically traded her off to a guy named Giovanni Malatesta to settle a war. Problem was, Giovanni was reportedly "physically deformed" (Dante’s words, not mine) and definitely not Francesca's type. She fell hard for his younger brother, Paolo.
They were sitting together one afternoon reading the story of Lancelot and Guinevere. You know, the classic "forbidden love" trope. According to the poem, they hit a particularly steamy part, looked at each other, and that was it.
The Moment Before the Disaster
Check out Paolo’s left hand. If you’re looking at the marble version in the Musée Rodin in Paris, or the one at the Tate in London, you can just barely see it. He’s holding a book.
This isn't a post-make-out cuddle. This is the exact second their lips almost touch. In fact, if you look at the sculpture from the right angle, their lips aren't even making contact. It’s the tension of the "almost." Rodin was a master of the "imminent." He wanted to capture the split second before Francesca’s husband walked in and stabbed them both to death.
Tragic? Definitely. Romantic? Sorta, in a "we're about to be eternally damned" kind of way.
Why the Art World Lost Its Mind
Rodin was a rebel. While other sculptors were making smooth, perfect, idealized bodies that looked like Greek gods, Rodin was making people who looked... well, human.
The hands and feet on the figures in Rodin the kiss sculpture are actually huge. Way out of proportion. If you measured them, they’d be anatomically impossible. But Rodin did that on purpose. He wanted the sculpture to feel heavy, grounded, and powerful. He didn't care about "pretty." He cared about the weight of desire.
It was too much for the "polite" society of the late 1800s.
- Chicago, 1893: The sculpture was sent to the World’s Columbian Exposition. The organizers were so freaked out by the "overt eroticism" that they locked it in a private room. You had to apply for a special permit just to go in and look at it.
- Lewes, England, 1914: A wealthy collector named Edward Perry Warren bought a marble version and let the local town hall display it. The locals hated it. They thought it would "overexcite" the soldiers stationed in town during World War I. They literally draped it in a tarpaulin to hide it from view.
It’s funny to think about now, considering it’s on every other museum tote bag, but this thing was once considered straight-up pornographic.
The Mystery of the "Multiple" Originals
People always ask: "Where is the real one?"
The answer is: everywhere. And nowhere.
Rodin was a bit of a businessman. He didn't actually carve the big marble versions himself. He had a team of "praticiens" (skilled assistants) who did the heavy lifting with the chisels while he supervised. Jean Turcan was the guy who actually carved the first large marble version. Rodin mostly worked in clay and plaster.
Because of this, there are three "original" large-scale marble versions authorized during or shortly after his life:
- The Musée Rodin (Paris): This is the one the French government commissioned in 1888.
- The Tate Modern (London): This is the "scandalous" version Edward Perry Warren commissioned. It’s carved from Pentelican marble, which is super brittle and hard to work with.
- The Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (Copenhagen): Commissioned by Carl Jacobsen (the guy who founded Carlsberg beer).
Beyond those, there are hundreds of bronze casts in different sizes. Rodin signed a contract with a foundry called Barbedienne to churn out smaller versions for the public. He basically invented the high-end art gift shop.
Rodin's Own Haters (He Was One of Them)
Here is a weird fact: Rodin actually ended up hating the sculpture.
He thought it was too "pretty." After he spent years working on the "Gates of Hell" and his controversial "Monument to Balzac," he felt like "The Kiss" was a bit shallow. He once told a critic that it was just a "large knick-knack" and that it lacked the "torment" of his other work.
He eventually kicked Paolo and Francesca off the "Gates of Hell" entirely. He felt their "happy" embrace didn't fit the vibe of eternal suffering. He replaced them with a much more agonized-looking couple on the actual doors.
But the public didn't care. They loved the "knick-knack."
How to See It Like a Pro
If you ever find yourself standing in front of the marble in Paris or London, don't just stand there and take a selfie.
Look at the rock they’re sitting on. It’s rough and unfinished. This was a trick Rodin learned from Michelangelo. The contrast between the smooth, polished skin of the lovers and the jagged, "living" rock makes the figures look like they’re literally emerging from the stone.
Notice the woman’s arm. She isn't just being kissed; she’s an active participant. She’s pulling him down to her. In the 1880s, showing a woman with that much agency and "lust" was practically unheard of in fine art. That's the real reason it was scandalous. It wasn't the nudity—it was the female desire.
Is It Still Relevant?
In 2003, a British artist named Cornelia Parker caused a stir by wrapping the Tate’s version of the sculpture in a mile of string. She called it "The Distance." She wanted to highlight the tension and the "suffocation" of love.
A few days later, a guy walked in with a pair of scissors and cut the string. He said he was "liberating" the lovers.
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We’re still fighting over this piece of stone 140 years later.
Whether you see it as a tragic story from Dante or just a beautiful piece of art, Rodin the kiss sculpture reminds us that passion is messy. It’s heavy. It’s complicated. And sometimes, it’s a little bit dangerous.
If you want to really get into the weeds of Rodin's process, your best bet is to visit the Musée Rodin in Meudon. It’s his old house and studio outside of Paris. You can see the original plaster molds where he actually left his thumbprints in the clay. It feels a lot more human than the polished marble versions in the big galleries.
Don't just look for the "romance." Look for the tension. That's where the real art is.