Remember the feeling you got when your parents held you accountable for a wrong you’d committed — not by spanking you, not by enforcing a chore, but simply by saying they were disappointed. That statement stings more than any punishment a parent could give. In fact, as a teenager I would have preferred to be punished rather than let my parents down. Whenever I got that speech, I knew that what I’d committed was likely a selfish act, inconsiderate, or something that went totally against the teachings or values of the family. This is exactly the scene that paints in my head when I think of Adam and Eve being driven out of the Garden.
I can imagine their guilt, the churning in their stomachs when they knew God was looking for them. They had to face their Maker, and I’d assume they cared what God would do to them, because they hid from Him and deflected blame to each other and then to Him — which showed pride. Why hide if you had no fear of God? If you didn’t care, you’d blatantly declare God was at fault and face Him with hate. But both Adam and Eve hid, knowing they were about to get the boot.
1. Rembrandt van Rijn — Adam and Eve: The Conversation Before the Sin
Unlike Dalí’s piece (shown later), Rembrandt uses etching on ivory paper, in black and white, to depict the scene right before the unforgivable sin is completed. He chooses to make the faces of Adam and Eve indistinguishable and their bodies not necessarily attractive, keeping the focus on the emotion behind the decision. The etching darkens where the lines sit closer together, drawing the viewer to wonder: why is this even a conversation? Why even consider it? The longer you look, the more you notice the snake watching them — scaly, clawed, its face patient — waiting for Adam and Eve to doubt God and reason that taking the knowledge for themselves will make them like Him. Through Eve, who holds the fruit, Adam allows her to eat, and he later takes from her. Rembrandt captures, perfectly, the conversation that may have happened beforehand.
2. Giulio Clovio — Adam and Eve: A Serpent With a Face
The Book of Hours was illustrated by Giulio Clovio as an illuminated manuscript for Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. Also known as the Farnese Hours, it’s considered the “last great Italian Renaissance manuscript.” Of the image shared, I want to focus on the right page — the left illustrates the magi visiting Jesus at the manger. On the right, we’re given a colorful telling of the moment the serpent entices Eve to eat the fruit. Clovio gives the serpent a face, which is uncommon but not unheard of. The serpent wraps around the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and if you follow its body, your eye lands on Eve’s left hand, holding the fruit she’s about to eat. Her right hand passes fruit to Adam, whose right hand reaches to take it. Both are nude, considering the serpent’s words. Their pale bodies, though voluptuous — representing good health — contrast with the colorful, vivid greenery of the Garden of Eden, where predator and prey live in harmony, drinking water or resting peacefully in the grass. That peace makes Adam and Eve’s contemplation feel even heavier. The scene is framed by columns of statues and cherubim holding ornate vases and drapery, giving the page a regal look, as if we’re peering into a museum piece rather than a page in a book. Here, Adam and Eve haven’t yet been judged — Clovio simply offers a colorful glimpse of what they’re about to give up.
The caption within the frame is written in Latin:
- Left panel: DEVS IN ADIVTORIV? MEVM INTENDE
- Right panel: DOMINE AD ADIVVANDVM ME FESTINA
English translation: “O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me.”
Context: This verse comes from Psalm 70:1 (Psalm 69:2 in the Vulgate) and is famously used as the opening invocation for each canonical hour in the Christian Liturgy of the Hours, or Book of Hours.
3. Franz von Stuck — The Sin: The Serpent Worn Like a Scarf
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While many would blame Adam for allowing his kingdom to be usurped by Satan, Eve has long been cast as the catalyst for the fall of man. It was she who turned to the serpent, listened to it, took the fruit, ate it, and passed it to Adam. It would make sense, then, that Eve and the word “sin” go hand in hand, and Franz von Stuck captures this in his oil-on-canvas painting, Sin. Here, a nude Eve wears the embezzling serpent around her neck like a scarf, symbolizing how women would take the cursed garments given by God after being found naked and turn the sin itself into fashion — even celebrate it. Her face, cast in darkness, seems to say she’s accepted the darkness and befriended the snake, who snarls back at the viewer as if protecting her while still looking to deceive her. Women have often been described, in art and literature, as capable of deceiving men and taking everything they have if men aren’t careful, and to me this painting captures the moment Adam catches Eve with the snake — yet she’s so beautiful, so mesmerizing, that I imagine I too might have eaten the fruit she offered. Ignoring the snake to please Eve would have been easy, and to this day, men must look at the women who mesmerize them and discern whether she’s carrying a serpent on her back, or is free of one.
4. Salvador Dalí — Adam and Eve Lithograph: Two Bodies, No Longer Alive
The Dalí lithograph reflects the moment right after the sin was officially committed. Adam and Eve, like sculptures — pure bodies with no life — look down in shame at the red and blue whisps flowing between them, representing the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. The shape of the trees is serpent-like, their remnants centered to form a heart. The red line looks almost like an artery or vein, a reminder of the blood of Christ, but also of the blood now running through the first humans. Above Eve hovers a dark cloud, which tells me her head is full of dark thoughts. Above both figures, through the roof of a roman structure, an angelic figure watches over them. The three of them united as creations of God, though the angel is placed above the humans and the clouds, suggesting it stands above humanity yet still subservient to the Creator. Genitalia on all three figures is covered. Was it this angel who witnessed the serpent’s task come to fruition?
5. Alexandre Cabanel — The Expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Paradise: Eve Left in the Light
“And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. Then the Lord God called to Adam and said to him, ‘Where are you?’ So he said, ‘I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; and I hid myself.’ And He said, ‘Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you that you should not eat?’ Then the man said, ‘The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I ate.’ And the Lord God said to the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman said, ‘The serpent deceived me, and I ate.’” Genesis 3:8-13 (NKJV)
Cabanel uses oil on canvas to depict the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden — a popular subject, part of the broader tradition of paintings on the fall of man. He paints Eve under the brightest source of light, draped over rocks and looking toward Adam, who hides behind a tree, more covered in shadow, his face carrying shame, regret, and pure sadness for committing the sin. Remembering his private moments with God and the commandments given to him, he leaves Eve exposed in the light, as if to blame her for eating the fruit. Eve, abandoned, and Adam, knowing full well what’s coming next: disappointing his Father. Surrounded by angels, God — a halo over His head marking Him as the most divine being present, waits with His angels for instructions on what to do with His earthly creations. Later in scripture we learn these are the cherubim, ordered by God to protect the Garden with a flaming sword, which Cabanel gives to the angel on God’s right. God’s hand is raised as if He’s in the moment of cursing the serpent, who flees in the bottom left corner in a human-angel-like form, glaring back with snake-like eyes at what he’s done. You can barely see it, but the devilish figure bears a smile, having finally achieved the corruption of human life.
6. William Blake — Milton’s Paradise Lost, The Judgment of Adam and Eve: The Serpent Without Legs
“So the Lord God said to the serpent: ‘Because you have done this, you are cursed more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the field; on your belly you shall go, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life. And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel.’ To the woman He said: ‘I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; in pain you shall bring forth children; your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.’ Then to Adam He said, ‘Because you have heeded the voice of your wife, and have eaten from the tree of which I commanded you, saying, “You shall not eat of it”: cursed is the ground for your sake; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life. Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you, and you shall eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for dust you are, and to dust you shall return.’” Genesis 3:14-19 (NKJV)
Notice that in Blake’s representation of this verse, the serpent lies at the feet of God and man, legless — unlike the previous pieces, where it’s shown in human form or as a dragon. This watercolor was commissioned by Thomas Butts as part of a set in which Blake illustrated scenes from the Bible, illustrations that, in my opinion, feel more faithful to the Word in some ways, but also more whimsical. Adam and Eve are easy to spot: Eve covers her face, hearing the bad news of the curse, while Adam seems to want to explain himself and fight the accountability for his actions — unable to accept his fate, it seems, he tries to lower his sentence, and fails. The figure in the middle is the one I’m less sure of — could it be Christ, who was and is, or God Himself? Life forms border the edge, forming a frame, and these figures seem to sit above the divine figure on earth. The older, full-bearded man on the left wears a crown painted in a subtle gold, which to me represents a king, a deity, a God higher than the one present on earth. These symbols lead me to believe the middle figure has to be either Jesus, bringing the curse down on Adam and Eve, or God Himself. The figure to the right is harder for me to place — water pours from its hands, and it’s surrounded by reptiles resembling dragons or lizards. I chose to share this piece because it’s a beautiful book illustration with a spin on the story we all know, carrying symbols that, sadly, I don’t think we’ll ever fully understand — symbols whose meaning may have died with William Blake.
7. William Blake — God Judging Adam: The Throne Adam Cannot Leave
And in the end, was it not man who was to blame for allowing the first sin to take place? Did not God tell Adam of the two trees he wasn’t allowed to eat from? God did not tell Eve. Did Eve even know the trees’ purpose? Did Adam watch her speak to the serpent and then take the fruit from her? Both ate, and both were cursed, and the generations after them were cursed too — but Adam was the one given the commands directly. In Blake’s illustration, a nude Adam hangs his head before God, who sits on a fiery throne rendered in watercolor. God’s right hand points to Adam, and it seems to me that here, Adam, aware of his nakedness, cannot look at his Creator in the eyes and simply takes his curse at the throne. The fiery steed beneath God seems to ensure Adam doesn’t leave His presence, even though there’d be no need to try. God doesn’t need to do anything Himself, and yet in this image He’s painted facing His creation and delivering the curse to him and his descendants personally. Very sobering.
“And Adam called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. Also for Adam and his wife the Lord God made tunics of skin, and clothed them. Then the Lord God said, ‘Behold, the man has become like one of Us, to know good and evil. And now, lest he put out his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever’ — therefore the Lord God sent him out of the garden of Eden to till the ground from which he was taken. So He drove out the man; and He placed cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.” Genesis 3:20-24 (NKJV)
8. Masaccio — Expulsion from the Garden of Eden: The Sword That Never Stops Turning
Masaccio’s fresco had lost much of its color over time — the deep blue of the sky had faded, and detail in the figures had been lost. Restorers judged the piece important enough to restore, so it could still tell the story of Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Eden. Above the two figures flies a red-robed cherub, sword in hand, watching them exit the Garden — carrying out God’s command to keep them from ever eating of the tree of life. Eve’s hand covers her breast for modesty, and another covers her genitals, leaving the viewer’s focus on her face, which is caught in complete despair and pain, as if the curse has already taken hold and she’s glimpsed the land she’s now condemned to. Adam, in lock step beside her, covers his face in shame, unable to accept the crime he’s committed, knowing he’s living his last few moments in paradise before he begins to toil for survival. Both figures walk toward their fate, forced to accept that paradise is behind them and that hardship — hell, even — lies ahead, with nothing they can do to stop it. Put yourself in their shoes and it’s easy to understand the faces Masaccio gives them: pain, despair, agony, stress, regret. But Adam carries one more emotion beyond Eve’s — guilt.
9. Thomas Cole — The Expulsion from the Garden of Eden: The Line Between Paradise and Ruin
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At first glance, Thomas Cole’s oil-on-canvas work reads like an epic adventure scene, but look closer and it reveals the true story it’s telling. Split the painting in half: on the right, a lush forest full of green vegetation, sunlight, open space, and a waterfall spilling down the cliffside. On the left, the vegetation turns scraggly, dark, and lifeless — full of decay and darkness, with bent trees. A ray of light cuts between the two sides, cast from a cave-like gate meant to represent the entrance to the Garden of Eden. Follow that light to the left and you’ll spot two small figures, one larger and one smaller, male and female, clothed in tunics of skin, heading into the vast, forbidding forest. Cole paints the curse of scripture vividly — not just through the shift in environment, but through a small, subtle detail buried among the torn trees: a predator devouring an elk, a catch that, if not eaten quickly, will be picked apart by the vulture circling above, watching for a chance to steal the kill. That small image within the image represents the fate of mankind.