Hell is more than fire and brimstone. It is the collective canvas of human fear, imagination, and morality. Across centuries, artists have painted their visions of the infernal—expressing everything from religious dread to political unrest and psychological torment. From the poetic architecture of Dante's Inferno to the twisted creatures of Bosch, and from mythological underworlds to Romantic cataclysms, depictions of hell and the underworld have offered rich material for some of history’s most captivating and unsettling artworks.
This article explores how artists from different cultures and eras have represented hell and the underworld in visual form—charting a cultural history that spans classical antiquity, medieval theology, Renaissance humanism, and the Romantic sublime. These works offer more than horror—they reveal our evolving views of sin, justice, redemption, and the soul itself.
Myth and Metaphor: The Ancient Underworld in Art
Before hell was the Christian domain of punishment, the concept of the underworld existed in myths across many ancient cultures. These realms were not always evil, but they were always mysterious—places of transition, trial, and transformation. In classical art, depictions of descent into the underworld symbolized psychological journeys as much as mythological quests.
Hades Carrying Eros to the Underworld
Richard Westall | 1795
Richard Westall’s Hades Carrying Eros to the Underworld (1795) offers a striking inversion of the classical descent narrative. Rather than a mortal entering the underworld, here the god of death ascends to abduct the god of love. Hades, dark-winged and smirking, carries the cherubic Eros—who clutches his bow in protest—through a swirling void between light and shadow. The contrast between the two figures is stark: Hades embodies power, inevitability, and desire, while Eros represents innocence and fleeting joy. Westall transforms myth into metaphor—suggesting that even love, radiant and divine, is not immune to the pull of mortality. The faint temple in the distance and the demonic forms below deepen the tension between ascent and descent, purity and possession. In the context of ancient underworld art, the painting reframes the theme of descent. Unlike heroic journeys into darkness, this is a one-way passage—where love is claimed by death, not to be tested, but to be taken. Westall’s scene becomes a meditation on the fragile boundary between passion and loss, and the inevitable gravity of the underworld.
Aeneas Taken by the Sibyl to the Underworld
Jacob van Swanenburgh | 17th Century
Jacob van Swanenburgh brings to life a pivotal episode from Virgil’s Aeneid, where the Trojan hero Aeneas is led into the underworld by the Sibyl of Cumae to seek guidance from the spirit of his father. The painting is thick with atmosphere—plumes of smoke, cavernous landscapes, and ghostly figures populate a realm that feels at once ancient and apocalyptic.
Rather than portraying the underworld as a singular destination, Swanenburgh renders it as a vast, chaotic city of the dead, filled with symbolic architecture and infernal terrain. Bodies twist and flail, spirits wade through rivers, and demonic forms hover overhead. The setting becomes a stage for Aeneas’s transformation—a test not of strength, but of destiny, endurance, and vision. In Swanenburgh’s hands, the descent is not only mythic—it is existential. The underworld is depicted not just as a place of judgment, but as a mirror of the human condition. As Aeneas moves through this haunted landscape, he confronts the weight of Rome’s future and the burden of legacy, making the painting not just a narrative moment, but a visual meditation on fate, mortality, and meaning.
Psyche in the Underworld
Eugène-Ernest Hillemacher | 1865
Hillemacher’s Psyche in the Underworld presents the myth not as a tale of heroism, but as a quiet moment of emotional struggle. Psyche, tasked with retrieving a fragment of Persephone’s beauty, is shown crossing the river of the dead—her figure luminous against the shadowy gloom, surrounded by spectral figures and the silent watch of Charon. Rather than drama, the painting evokes introspection. The muted palette and subdued light create an atmosphere of melancholy, casting the underworld as a space of inner trial rather than punishment. Psyche’s descent becomes a metaphor for psychological endurance—a journey shaped not by conquest, but by love, sacrifice, and the quiet weight of sorrow.
Fire and Judgment: Christian Visions of Hell
With the rise of Christianity in Europe, the underworld was redefined as Hell—a realm of divine punishment for sin. Artists used increasingly vivid and horrifying imagery to depict the torments awaiting the damned. These paintings were often theological tools, reminding viewers of the consequences of moral failure and the necessity of faith.
Christ’s Descent into Hell
Follower of Jheronimus Bosch | c. 1560
This painting captures the moment between Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection when he descends into Hell to liberate the righteous dead. While the subject is one of hope, the follower of Bosch emphasizes the terrifying chaos of the infernal realm. Monstrous figures, grotesque tortures, and fiery landscapes dominate the scene. It reflects Bosch’s unique visual language—blending religious allegory with surreal nightmarish imagery—and captures the medieval worldview where salvation could only be achieved through fear, penance, and divine grace.
Christ in the Realm of the Dead
Joakim Skovgaard | 1894
Skovgaard’s fresco, infused with Nordic folklore and Art Nouveau stylization, shows Christ as a victorious yet compassionate figure descending into the underworld. The souls that surround him are not grotesque, but vulnerable and hopeful. This vision contrasts sharply with earlier horrors, presenting the underworld as a place of redemption. The rich symbolism and linear forms reflect a turn-of-the-century shift—where hell becomes less about wrath and more about renewal.
Dante’s Inferno: A New Blueprint for Hell
Few literary works have shaped the Western vision of hell more than Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy. In Inferno, Dante offers a meticulously organized version of hell—structured in nine circles corresponding to specific sins. This poetic architecture has inspired countless artists to visualize moral decline with terrifying specificity.
Dante and Virgil
William-Adolphe Bouguereau | 1850
Bouguereau’s neoclassical painting presents a dramatic moment from Dante’s Inferno, where the poet and Virgil witness a violent battle between two damned souls: the alchemist Capocchio and the fraudulent Gianni Schicchi. The intensity of their struggle, rendered with anatomical precision and expressive realism, brings Dante’s allegory to life. Bouguereau turns the infernal into a psychological drama, where the torment is as much emotional as physical. Though the painting failed to win him the Prix de Rome, it remains a stunning fusion of literature, theology, and academic art.
The Romantic Hellscape: Sublime Terror and Cosmic Chaos
In the 19th century, the Romantic movement transformed the idea of hell into something grander and more philosophical. Romantic artists were fascinated by ruin, apocalypse, and the sublime—using infernal imagery to probe the limits of reason, faith, and emotion.
Pandemonium
John Martin | 1841
Martin’s masterpiece visualizes the capital of Hell from Milton’s Paradise Lost. Unlike earlier depictions of hell as crowded with devils and flames, Martin presents a vast, terrifying metropolis ablaze with unholy fire. The scale of destruction and architectural grandeur reflects the Romantic obsession with the sublime—the awe-inspiring blend of beauty and terror. Martin’s hell is not just a punishment for sin; it is a reflection of hubris, ambition, and the catastrophic fall of civilizations.
Allegory and Revolution: Hell as a Mirror of Society
By the mid-19th century, hell was increasingly used to critique social and political conditions. Artists employed infernal imagery to reflect moral decay, class struggle, and national identity.
Heaven and Hell
Octave Tassaert | 1850
Octave Tassaert’s Heaven and Hell is a vivid moral allegory set against the backdrop of 19th-century political and social upheaval. Painted in 1850, during the turbulent aftermath of the 1848 French Revolution, the work reflects a society torn between ideological extremes—caught between the celestial promise of progress and the hellish reality of corruption and decay. At the heart of the composition is a young woman, her expression suspended in uncertainty, seated between salvation and damnation. Above her, angels ascend through clouds bathed in golden light, while below, demonic forms writhe amid serpents, flames, and despair. The figures are rendered with Romantic drama and anatomical precision, drawing the viewer’s eye along a vertical axis from inferno to paradise.
Tassaert, a known supporter of the Republic, used this imagery to express a broader political commentary. The woman—central, passive, and scrutinized—can be interpreted as a personification of France itself, caught between the lofty ideals of revolution and the seductive dangers of authoritarian rule or moral decay. The painting does not offer easy answers; instead, it captures a nation in moral crisis, where the soul of the people is contested between virtue and vice, liberation and temptation. Heaven and Hell thus becomes more than a religious tableau—it is a mirror held up to the conflicts of its time. Tassaert transforms theological imagery into political allegory, showing how the concepts of sin, judgment, and salvation can be reframed to reflect civic identity and national struggle. In his hands, hell is not just a place—it is a state of collective uncertainty, one that continues to echo through political art to this day.
The Fall of the Titans
Cornelis van Haarlem | 1588–1590
In Cornelis van Haarlem’s The Fall of the Titans, myth and political allegory collide in a chaotic descent. While rooted in the classical tale of the Titanomachy—where the Olympian gods overthrow the older generation of Titans—the painting resonates far beyond its mythological origins. Haarlem’s writhing mass of muscular, falling male nudes tumbles through a barren void, embodying not just divine defeat, but the collapse of power, pride, and structure itself.
Painted during a time of social and religious upheaval in the Dutch Republic, the work reflects anxieties about rebellion, governance, and the fragility of order. The Titans, stripped of heroism, appear grotesque and desperate—symbols of authoritarian might cast down by a new era. Haarlem’s use of exaggerated anatomy and Mannerist complexity enhances the drama, but it also exposes vulnerability beneath the bravado. In the context of this blog’s theme, The Fall of the Titans becomes more than a mythological scene—it’s a mirror of political revolution. It speaks to the timeless truth that those in power, however immortal they seem, are never invincible. In this way, the painting becomes a visual prophecy: when pride soars too high, the fall is both inevitable and epic.
Why Hell Still Captivates Us
Hell endures in art not simply because it frightens us, but because it reveals us. These paintings offer more than flames and fury—they are reflections of inner torment, societal fears, and humanity’s eternal questions. What is justice? Can we be forgiven? What lies beyond the veil of death?
From the mythic underworlds of Psyche and Aeneas to the dark visions of Dante, Bosch, and Bouguereau, the infernal landscape continues to evolve with us. It is a mirror in fire and shadow—one that artists will likely never stop peering into.