There are images that grab you before you even understand why. Gustav Klimt's The Kiss is one of them.
By Artedusa
••5 min read
Klimt's The Kiss: when gold becomes emotion
There are images that grab you before you even understand why. Gustav Klimt's The Kiss is one of them. This couple locked in an embrace, wrapped in a swirl of gold, suspended between heaven and earth, continues to grace millions of bedrooms, coffee mugs, and umbrellas. But beneath this almost embarrassing popularity lies one of the most sensual and revolutionary works in art history.
Vienna 1908, a city in turmoil
To understand The Kiss, you need to imagine Vienna at the dawn of the 20th century. The Austro-Hungarian capital was in full creative ferment. Freud was theorizing the unconscious in his practice just a few streets from Klimt's studio. Mahler was composing his tragic symphonies. Schiele was painting twisted bodies that scandalized the bourgeoisie.
It was in this cultural cauldron that Gustav Klimt (1862-1918) created his Golden Period. Son of a goldsmith, Klimt grew up surrounded by precious metals, ornaments, and Byzantine motifs. This childhood saturated his art. When he painted The Kiss between 1907 and 1908, he was at the height of his fame, founder of the Vienna Secession, that movement which sought to liberate art from academic conventions.
The painting measures 180 cm by 180 cm. A perfect square. Klimt worked with actual gold leaf, like the Byzantine icons he so admired during his trip to Ravenna. But unlike the frozen saints of those ancient mosaics, his lovers pulse with life.
The gold technique, between tradition and modernity
Look carefully at the painting's surface. The gold isn't simply applied, it's worked. Klimt uses genuine gold leaf, which he glues then patinas, scrapes, and polishes. Some areas shine like mirrors, others are matte, almost rough. This texture creates a fascinating depth. Depending on the light, the painting changes mood.
The geometric patterns covering the clothes aren't randomly decorative. On the man, vertical rectangles, black and white, rigid and phallic. On the woman, circles, spirals, organic forms that evoke fertility. Klimt speaks of sexuality without ever being vulgar. He suggests, he dazzles, he seduces.
The golden background places the scene outside of time. No setting, no context. Just this flowery meadow where the woman kneels, and this dizzying drop behind them. The lovers are on the edge of a precipice, literally. Love as danger, as abandonment, as a leap into the void.
Who are these lovers?
The question has long divided art historians. Is Klimt depicting himself with Emilie Flöge, his lifelong companion? This avant-garde fashion designer who was his intellectual equal, his friend, perhaps his lover, certainly his inspiration?
The man's features remain blurred, almost hidden. We see his powerful hands framing the woman's face with an almost desperate tenderness. Her, we see better. Eyes closed, head slightly tilted back, she surrenders. Her hands grip his, but her body relaxes, gives itself.
Some see Emilie in this face. Others think Klimt painted universal love, not a specific couple. What's certain is that the painter knew love in all its forms. A confirmed bachelor, he fathered at least fourteen children with different women. His studio was a place of freedom where models walked around naked, where sensuality wasn't a sin but an art of living.
The hidden symbolism of The Kiss
In the corseted Viennese society of the early 20th century, this painting caused a scandal. Not because of nudity, Klimt painted far more explicit works. But because of this obvious sensuality, this woman's total surrender.
The man's feet are invisible, hidden behind the golden folds of his cloak. The woman's are bare, tucked beneath her. She's on her knees, vulnerable. He leans over, both protective and possessive. This imbalance of position has generated much debate. Is Klimt representing male dominance? Or on the contrary, the woman who through her total surrender becomes the couple's true strength?
The meadow's flowers aren't random either. Poppies, symbol of sleep and forgetting. Daisies, innocence. Carnations, passion. Every detail in Klimt is deliberate, loaded with meaning. Nothing is there by chance.
Art nouveau and the decorative revolution
The Kiss arrives at a pivotal moment in art history. Art nouveau, called Jugendstil in Germany and Austria, was in full swing. This movement sought to abolish the boundary between fine art and decorative arts. A painting could be as precious as a piece of jewelry. A poster could be a work of art.
Klimt perfectly embodied this philosophy. He started by decorating buildings, painting ceilings, creating mosaics. When he moved to easel painting, he kept this decorative approach. His paintings resemble precious tapestries, Byzantine stained glass, medieval illuminations.
But careful, decorative doesn't mean superficial. Beneath the gold and patterns, Klimt raises essential questions. What is love? What is desire? How do you represent intimacy without betraying it? The Kiss is erotic without being pornographic, tender without being saccharine, modern without being cold.
Immediate and lasting success
Unlike many artists of his era, Klimt enjoyed success during his lifetime. The Kiss was purchased by the Austrian National Gallery before it was even finished. That tells you the enthusiasm it generated. The price paid was considerable for the time: 25,000 crowns.
The painting entered the Upper Belvedere in Vienna, where it still reigns today. It quickly became the museum's main attraction. During World War II, the Nazis, who otherwise despised modern art, didn't dare touch The Kiss because it was so popular. It survived the bombings, the looting, the dark years.
After the war, its popularity exploded. In the 1960s and 1970s, The Kiss became an icon of counterculture. You'd find it on posters in student bedrooms, on album covers, on t-shirts. This democratization of the image has a paradoxical side. The painting that celebrates love's uniqueness became the world's most reproduced image.
Other works from the Golden Period
The Kiss isn't an isolated accident in Klimt's career. It belongs to his Golden Period, roughly between 1899 and 1910, when the artist extensively used gold leaf.
The portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, painted in 1907, just before The Kiss, is perhaps even more extravagant. This fabulously wealthy Viennese woman is literally drowned in gold. Her face and hands barely emerge from a whirlwind of Byzantine motifs. This painting has a tumultuous history: looted by the Nazis, recovered by Austria, claimed by the heirs, it was finally sold in 2006 for $135 million. The highest price ever paid for a painting at that time.
Danaë, painted in 1907-1908, shows the Greek princess visited by Zeus transformed into a shower of gold. Klimt transforms the myth into a sensual celebration of the female body. Judith I from 1901 is darker, almost disturbing. This biblical heroine who beheaded the enemy general becomes in Klimt's hands a femme fatale with a hard gaze.
These paintings share something: they mix sacred and profane, ancient and modern, modesty and eroticism. Klimt juggled contradictions and made them his strength.
Visiting The Kiss at the Belvedere
If you go to Vienna, the Upper Belvedere palace is a must-see. This 18th-century baroque palace dominates the city from a hilltop. The terraced gardens connecting it to the Lower Belvedere are magnificent, especially in spring.
But the real star is The Kiss. It has its own room, specially designed for it. The walls are painted in tones that bring out the gold. The lighting is calculated so the painting shines without blinding. You can get within a meter of it. That's where you'll truly see the texture, the brushstrokes beneath the gold, the color nuances.
The museum also holds the world's largest Klimt collection. After The Kiss, you can see his landscapes of Lake Attersee, his portraits of Viennese society women, his sketches. The address is Prinz Eugen-Strasse 27, in the third district. Book online, the lines can be long. Admission runs around 16 euros. The museum is open every day except Monday.
The Kiss's influence on popular culture
Few paintings have so thoroughly permeated our collective imagination. The Kiss is everywhere. On calendars, postcards, wedding invitations. Tattoo artists reproduce it on thousands of bodies. Photographers ask their clients to recreate the pose.
This omnipresence has an annoying side. The painting risks becoming a cliché, emptied of its subversive force. But it also testifies to something profound. More than a century after its creation, the image continues to speak to people. It says something universal about desire, about surrender, about that fragile moment when two people become one.
Contemporary artists have seized The Kiss to subvert it. Banksy created a street art version where the lovers wear gas masks. A critique of pollution, war, our sick world. Others have replaced the faces with cartoon characters, celebrities, superheroes. These pastiches, however kitsch, prove the vitality of the original work.
Klimt and women
You can't discuss The Kiss without addressing Klimt's complex relationship with women. The painter adored them, respected them, desired them, immortalized them. His studio was a feminine sanctuary. Models practically lived there, moving naked through the space, talking, laughing, posing.
Unlike many artists of his time, Klimt didn't paint women as objects. He painted them as subjects, powerful, sensual, mysterious. His portraits of Viennese high society transform these bourgeois women into Byzantine goddesses. His nudes celebrate the female body in all its diversity.
The Kiss is perhaps his most egalitarian painting. Man and woman occupy the same space. Neither truly dominates the other. It's a precarious balance, a dance for two. The gold enveloping them unites them beyond gender, social roles, conventions.
Why The Kiss still moves us
There's something profoundly human in this painting. Beyond the gold, the symbols, the technique, there remains a couple kissing. A simple gesture, universal, eternal. Klimt managed to capture the intensity of this moment. The instant when the world disappears, when there's nothing but two bodies, two souls seeking each other.
The gold plays a crucial role in this emotion. It transforms the kiss into something sacred. As if Klimt was telling us that love, real love, the kind that makes you tremble and gives you vertigo, is as precious as gold. More precious even, since it can't be weighed, bought, or truly possessed.
The lovers' position at the edge of the precipice adds a tragic note. Klimt knew that love is fragile, that moments of ecstasy don't last. By suspending his characters in this unreal golden space, he freezes an instant that by nature should pass. That's the painting's genius. It makes eternal what is ephemeral.
A timeless masterpiece
More than a century after its creation, Klimt's The Kiss continues to fascinate, trouble, and move us. It survived wars, trends, critics. It went from scandal to classic without losing its power.
Yes, the painting has become a bit too popular. Yes, you find it on mugs, puzzles, mousepads. But this reproducibility doesn't kill the original. On the contrary, it proves its vitality. A work that still speaks to millions of people more than a century after its creation isn't a cliché. It's a miracle.
So the next time you see this image, on a faded poster or in the majesty of the Belvedere, take a moment. Look beyond the gold, beyond the patterns. Look at these two human beings suspended at the edge of the void, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. And ask yourself: isn't Klimt speaking about all of us, about our need to love and be loved, about our fragility in the face of passing time?
Perhaps in his Viennese studio, with his brushes and gold leaf, Gustav Klimt touched something essential. Not just romantic love, but that thirst for the absolute that pushes us toward another, that impossible quest for perfect union. The Kiss doesn't provide answers. It asks a question: what if love was the only thing truly worth living for?
Klimt's The Kiss: when gold becomes emotion | Art History | Artedusa
