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How Severance Uses Art To Communicate Power, Propaganda, And Paranoia

Liv Goodbody
written by Liv Goodbody,
Last updated24 Mar 2025
10 minute read
A group of five professionally dressed individuals stands in a sterile, minimalist office environment, looking intently at something off-camera. The central figure, a man in a suit with a lanyard, appears serious and focused. The group’s expressions convey tension and anticipation.Image © GamerBlog / Severance © Soroush Behzadi
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The characterless corridors of Severance’s Lumon Industries are an exercise in control. The sterile hallways, the minimalist mid-century decor, the lack of personal items; all of it exists to strip individuality from the severed employees. In the context of this minutely curated environment, the presence of art is not only conspicuous, it is deliberate.

Far from being a source of enrichment, Lumon’s artwork conveys an implicit sense of horror, serving as a tool for control, indoctrination and psychological manipulation. Beyond the corporate sphere, the art found in the characters’ homes further reflects the fractured identities and realities of those living under Lumon’s influence, offering visual clues to the hidden tensions that exist above the Severed Floor.

Much like the use of political and religious iconography in our own world, Lumon’s artistic choices are engineered to shape perception. The severed workers, with no memories of life outside the company, are particularly vulnerable to this form of visual conditioning. When the only images they see deify Kier Eagan - the founder of Lumon - or portray their colleagues as potential threats, their sense of reality is inevitably warped. As Lumon workers enter their workplace, they are met with a formidable bas-relief of Kier that bears a striking resemblance to Soviet era reliefs of Lenin and Marx. In this way, art becomes a silent enforcer of Lumon’s ideology, dominating its surroundings and embedding itself into the subconscious of those it seeks to control.

See every artwork included in Severance here.

WARNING: SPOILERS

Inside Lumon

The Art of Optics & Design

The artworks produced by Lumon’s Optics and Design (O&D) department serve as crucial tools of indoctrination, crafted to shape the perceptions and beliefs of the severed employees. These pieces, often grandiose and reverential in their depictions of Kier Eagan, transform the company’s founder into a near-mythological figure. The act of creation itself becomes part of the conditioning process, reinforcing loyalty through participation. By physically making the imagery that glorifies Kier, O&D workers do not just consume propaganda but manufacture it, ensuring his image is ever-present.

A painting of a bearded man in boots and a coat standing on a rocky cliff, gazing over a vast landscape of rolling green hills, lakes, and fields at sunrise or sunset. The scene has a serene, contemplative atmosphere, with soft light illuminating the horizon.Image © Severance Wiki / Kier Invites You to Drink of His Water © 2024

Kier Invites You to Drink of His Water

Throughout Severance, many works of art take explicit inspiration from the real world, but one of the most faithful imitations is Kier Invites You to Drink of His Water, a clear parallel to Caspar David Friedrich’s Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog. In Friedrich’s original painting, the lone figure stands on top of a peak, looking out over fog-covered landscape. There is uncertainty in the scene; the path ahead is obscured and the wanderer holds a walking stick. In contrast, Kier’s version of this image exudes absolute confidence and control. No walking stick is needed, and no fog obscures his view; the land before him is open and lush, evoking an untouched Eden. Where Wanderer invites introspection, Kier Invites You to Drink of His Water is a declaration of mastery.

Interestingly, the original painting also featured on certain editions of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, a novel that explores scientific hubris and the nature of humanity. This connection adds another layer of meaning to Kier’s reinterpretation, becoming an intentional parallel to the ethical transgressions of Lumon’s own experimenting.

A dark and chaotic painting depicting a violent scene of office workers in a frenzy, attacking each other in a dimly lit, fiery environment. Some figures are shown in distress, while others appear to be engaged in acts of brutality, including one person eating another’s flesh. Many of the characters wear glowing blue ID badges, adding an eerie contrast to the otherwise dark and aggressive composition.Image © Severance Wiki / The Grim Barbarity of Optics and Design © 2024

The Grim Barbarity of Optics and Design

Few images in Severance are as impactful as The Grim Barbarity of Optics and Design. A tableau of unrestrained savagery, it depicts the bloodied figures of Macrodata Refinement (MDR) and O&D locked in a gruesome and primal struggle; their faces twisted with rage and one figure devouring the heart of a fallen enemy. The painting’s composition draws inspiration from a variety of works including; The Philistines Gouging out Samson’s Eyes by Gioacchino Assereto, Judith Beheading Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileschi and The Blinding of Samson by Rembrandt. Most explicit seems to be the parallel to Francisco Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son (1820-3), one of the most infamous works from his Black Paintings series. Just as Goya’s grotesque masterpiece embodied the paranoia and madness of a crumbling society, The Grim Barbarity channels the calculated cruelty of Lumon Industries.

The composition itself reinforces this sense of chaos and horror. The frenzied movement, the chiaroscuro lighting reminiscent of Caravaggio, and the sheer brutality of the depicted scene all create an atmosphere of unrelenting dread. In its unfiltered violence, The Grim Barbarity speaks to the unseen forces controlling Lumon’s workers. The same way Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son depicts Cronus’s terror at the prospect of being overthrown by his own offspring, this painting reflects Kier’s fear of his employees - naive and dependent like children - rising up against him.

This painting functions as a psychological weapon wielded by Lumon to manipulate and divide its workforce. Different versions of The Grim Barbarity exist, each altered to show different aggressors wearing department-specific lanyards and ensuring that every team sees themselves as the potential victims of their colleagues. This manipulation is realised by the severed workers when The Macrodata Refinement Calamity painting is discovered. By fostering fear and mistrust, these artworks prevent the severed employees from ever considering solidarity or rebellion.

This painting depicts a dramatic scene in a dark, cavernous setting. A bearded man in a tunic and red cloak stands with a raised whip, illuminated by a divine or supernatural light. He appears to be confronting a group of figures, including a person with the head of a goat, who is recoiling in fear. Behind them, two women in flowing garments look on in shock. The composition suggests a moment of judgment or expulsion, possibly referencing historical or biblical themes.Image © Severance Wiki / Kier Taming the Four Tempers © 2024

Kier Taming the Four Tempers

Kier Taming the Four Tempers stands as both a visual sermon and a psychological directive. In this painting Kier Eagan is depicted as a towering figure wielding a whip as he subdues four personified aspects of human emotion; Woe, Malice, Frolic, and Dread, who we see embodied during Dylan’s waffle party in season 1. Each of these tempers represents an aspect of the human psyche, and their forced submission elevates Kier beyond a mere business leader into an omnipotent master of human nature itself.

The imagery is inspired by Renaissance and Baroque religious art, particularly depictions such as El Greco’s Christ Driving the Money Changers from the Temple (c.1600) and Valentin de Boulogne’s rendition of the same scene. The direct influence of artists like El Greco and Valentin de Boulogne is evident in the dramatic lighting, elongated figures, and Kier’s wielding of a cat-o’-nine-tails, a gesture that imbues him with an air of divine authority. However, where Christ’s act in these classical works is framed as one of moral cleansing, Kier’s act is one of totalitarian control. The whip, often a symbol of discipline or purification in religious iconography, takes on a more sinister meaning here as a weapon of subjugation.

The four tempers themselves are rendered with exaggerated agony, their contorted bodies writhing under Kier’s dominance. Woe reaches out as if pleading for mercy, Malice appears defiant even in defeat and Frolic is forced into submission, signifying that even pleasure must be controlled. Meanwhile, Dread is depicted as a ram or goat, a choice laden with symbolic weight. The image of the Sabbatic goat, often linked to the demon Baphomet, suggests a depiction of evil being subdued. However, if the figure is instead a ram, this could also align more closely with Kier’s intended mythology. Known for their stubbornness, rams are natural symbols of resistance and dominance, yet here the creature cowers before Kier, its strength reduced to helplessness under his authority. This transformation reinforces the idea that opposition to Kier’s vision is futile. Moreover, rams are still sheep, animals that have long been associated with the necessity of guidance. Just as Christ is often depicted as the shepherd leading his flock, Kier positions himself as the enlightened ruler, the sole figure capable of bringing order to chaos. The whip in his hand is not just a tool of discipline but a symbol of divine command, ensuring that even the most headstrong followers submit to his rule.

This visual narrative reinforces the company’s core belief that human impulses are weaknesses to be tamed. Just as Kier is shown breaking the spirits of the Four Tempers, so too must the severed employees surrender their own inner selves. In this world, individuality is an enemy to be conquered. The painting stands as a reminder that true control is not merely about obedience, but about reshaping the nature of those who serve.

A triptych painting featuring a moody, atmospheric sky with swirling clouds in shades of blue, gray, and hints of purple. The three-panel artwork is framed in black and mounted on a white wall. The rightmost panel has darker, more dramatic cloud formations with streaks resembling rain or smoke rising from below, adding a sense of movement and depth.Image © Severance Wiki / Atmospheric Triptych © 2024

The Triptych Behind Cobel’s Desk

Dominating the space behind Harmony Cobel’s desk, the triptych serves as a presence that threatens every conversation in her office. Spanning three panels, the painting unfolds like a visual prophecy, a storm migrating towards a crescendo of chaos. While it does not directly reference a single historical work, its structure echoes classical triptychs, traditionally used in religious altarpieces to depict grand moral narratives such as creation, fall, and judgment. Here, the panels tell a story of rising tension and inevitable collapse.

The first panel is deceptively serene. The sky is heavy with an unnatural stillness, a moment of quiet before the inevitable. This reflects the early episodes of the series, where Cobel is composed, meticulous, and fully in control of the system she oversees. In the second panel, movement begins with clouds churning and a storm building but not yet breaking. Here, cracks start to form in Cobel’s rigid authority as she deals with disruption caused by Petey’s reintegration and Helly’s defiance, but she believes she can contain it. Then, in the final panel, all restraint is lost; the storm reaches its violent peak and control is shattered. This mirrors Cobel’s arc throughout Severance, as her authority unravels and ultimately collapses, and by Season 2, she is no longer the manager of the severed floor.

A traditional oil painting-style portrait of an older man with black skin, blue eyes, and a neatly groomed mustache. He has short, graying hair and wears a dark suit with a white shirt and a black tie. The background is a muted greenish hue, adding a classic, vintage feel to the artwork. His expression is calm and composed, with a slight intensity in his gaze.Image © Severance Wiki / Recanonicalized Portrait of Kier © 2025

Inclusively Re-Canonicalised Paintings

In Severance’s second season, Lumon takes its performative corporate culture to a new level when Milchick is presented with a “gift” of reimagined portraits of Kier Eagan in which the company’s founder is depicted as Black. The intent behind these altered paintings is an attempt to make Milchick, one of the few Black employees we see in Lumon’s inner hierarchy, feel ‘included’ in the company’s history. But rather than an act of representation, this gesture is a grotesque, tone-deaf parody of inclusivity, exposing the company’s fundamental detachment from real diversity and equality.

The very term “Inclusively Re-Canonicalised” underscores the absurdity of the endeavour. Rather than offering Milchick meaningful recognition, Lumon quite literally rewrites history, as if representation can be retroactively manufactured through revisionist imagery. The act is reminiscent of corporate diversity initiatives that prioritise image over substance, using superficial gestures to mask the lack of real structural change. This move transforms what could have been a moment of genuine inclusion into a sinister display of corporate blackface, where history itself is reshaped to fit the company’s manufactured narrative. Milchick’s reaction is telling; even the ultimate company man is momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of the paintings. His silence in this moment speaks to an unspoken realisation that Lumon’s view of him, despite his loyalty, is as performative as their diversity efforts.

A painting of a man sitting at a computer with his hand raised , on either side of the man are groups of people wearing corporate work wearImage © Severance Wiki / The Exalted Victory of Cold Harbor © 2025

The Exalted Victory of Cold Harbor

Unveiled in the Severance Season 2 finale, The Exalted Victory of Cold Harbor serves as both a declaration and a warning. Grandiose and militant in tone, this new painting is the first thing the Innies see upon stepping out of the lift. Like the reimagined Kier paintings that line the company’s halls, it distorts reality into myth, reshaping Mark’s role in the completion of Cold Harbor into something preordained. Allies, adversaries, and casualties are bound together within the composition, woven into an inescapable narrative.

At its centre, Mark floats in the icy waters of Woe’s Hollow, his hand raised to strike the final keystroke. The setting itself is significant; Woe’s Hollow is deeply rooted in Kier's doctrine, a place of both reckoning and transcendence. By placing Mark here, he becomes an instrument of Lumon’s vision, his actions sanctified by the company’s mythos.

Surrounding him is a carefully arranged ensemble. To the left stand the members of MDR: Irving, Helly, Dylan, and Petey. Though each has defied Lumon in their own way, the painting does not depict them as rebels. Instead, they are framed as Mark’s right-hand allies, essential to his "victory". Even acts of defiance can be repurposed, and the message is clear: history belongs to those who control its telling. Devon stands apart, her body subtly turned away, a quietly potent rejection of the vision the painting presents. Ricken is also there; his influence has been instrumental in Mark’s awakening, but here Lumon absorbs him into its version of events. In the background, more figures emerge: Harmony Cobel, Mark W., Gwendolyn Y., and Dario R. - casualties of the system.

To the right, the painting regains its structure. This is the domain of loyalty, figures who reinforce the hierarchy Lumon seeks to preserve, including Mr Milchick and Natalie. Ms. Casey’s proximity to Mark is the most striking, her presence both intimate and tragic, and here she is depicted as though she belongs at his side. Above all these figures, the Eagan's preside; elevated as divine figures that reinforce Lumon’s doctrine that they alone dictate the course of history.

The Exalted Victory of Cold Harbor is an assertion of control. It reframes Mark’s actions as destiny, ensuring that even defiance is folded into Lumon’s legacy.

A realistic portrait painting of a male clown with a solemn expression. He has a bald head, blue eyes, and traditional clown makeup featuring a red nose, white mouth paint, and black facial markings. He wears a tight white shirt with a red corset-like belt. His arms are crossed, and he holds a small feather in one hand. The background is a muted beige tone. The painting is signed "R. Sprengfels '49" in the lower-left corner.Image © Severance Wiki / Agnello Clown © Robert Springfels 2024

Outside Lumon

Burt and Fields' Home

The paintings in Burt and Fields' house are especially interesting, mirroring their personal relationship, as well as broader themes within Severance. In their kitchen hangs Agnello Clown (1949) by Robert Springfels; an image of a figure wearing a clown mask, their arms folded in a gesture of self-protection or detachment. Clowns have long been symbols of deception and duality, and the mask suggests a hidden identity of someone forced to perform a role while concealing their true self. This imagery resonates with the plight of the severed workers, who are trapped in an artificial persona, unable to reconcile their fragmented existence. On the other hand, it could suggest a duplicity in Burt and provide an ominous clue to Burt’s true intentions with Irving . The title, Agnello, meaning “Lamb of God” evokes themes of sacrifice and submission, reinforcing the notion that the Innies are prisoners in their own bodies, living a fate imposed upon them by forces beyond their control.

Further reinforcing this theme of displacement is the second painting in their hallway of an image of a Victorian girl standing by a modern parking meter. The juxtaposition of old-fashioned clothing with contemporary urban infrastructure creates a visual contradiction, much like the Innies, who exist in an anachronistic, surreal environment that is fundamentally out of step with reality. It evokes a sense of isolation, as if the girl - like the workers at Lumon - has been placed in a world that does not belong to her.

Above their dining table is another painting by Springfels, The Matriarch. Many of Springfels’ works carry an unsettling quality, often blending historical figures with modern or eerie elements like Severance itself, where the past and present - and the personal and the corporate - blur together in unsettling ways.

An impressionistic painting depicting three women with long hair and flowing dresses leaning over a bridge railing, gazing at the water below. The scene features a large, rounded tree, a white house with a dark roof, and a winding road leading into the distance. The color palette includes vibrant greens, blues, and earthy tones, with expressive brushstrokes adding movement to the composition. The painting is reminiscent of the style of Edvard Munch.Image © Wikimedia Commons / Girls on a Bridge © Edvard Munch 1899

The Art in Devon and Ricken’s Home

One particular painting in Devon and Ricken’s hallway, positioned prominently behind Devon during two key conversations with Mark, stands out. It portrays a scene of a woman in a light pastel dress and hat gazing off into the distance, while a bearded man in a white suit and hat stands with his arms crossed, looking downward. The background is ambiguous, possibly featuring additional figures and a railing they appear to be leaning against.

The painting draws inspiration from Edvard Munch’s Girls on a Bridge, a work known for its dreamlike quality and melancholic undertones. The woman in the Severance painting strongly resembles two of the female figures in Munch’s piece, while the man in white could be a masculine reinterpretation of the third girl. Within the context of Devon and Ricken’s home, this painting takes on an intriguing significance. While Ricken surrounds himself with images that reinforce his own ego, this piece is introspective and notably devoid of his presence. The echoes of Munch’s art, with its preoccupation with existential anxiety and ambiguity, suggest that beneath the idyllic surface of their home, deeper uncertainties linger.

The paintings in Severance implicitly reinforce the more explicit domination enacted by Lumon. They indoctrinate, intimidate, and deceive by giving Lumon’s philosophy an air of legitimacy. Like all great art they tell a story, but in this case it’s a story of control, fear, and a carefully curated mythology designed to keep the severed in line.