Krisztina Szabo's Art Gallery

DA OGGI SI POSSONO ACQUISTARE I MIEI QUADRI ON LINE CON LA SICUREZZA DI PAYPAL

2011-08-27T13:47:00.006+02:00

ART ON WEB - SPEDIZIONE IN TUTTO IL MONDO

BUY WITH THE SECURITY OF PAYPAL - SHIPPING WORLDWIDE

EXHIBITION / MOSTRA

2011-07-26T11:39:00.000+02:00

SEA OF BIANCO / MARE DI BIANCO

2011-07-22T12:38:00.007+02:00

oil on canvas 120x100 cm

€ 1800.00

Man and the Sea

by Charles Baudelaire

Always, unfettered man, you will cherish the sea!

The sea your mirror, you look into your mind

In its eternal billows surging without end,

And as its gulfs are bitter, so must your spirit be.

You plunge with joy into this image of your own:

You hug it with your eyes and arms; your heart

Forgets for a time its noisy beat, becomes a part

Of a greater, more savage and less tameable moan.

In your own ways, you both are brooding and discreet:

Man, no one has mapped your chasm's hidden floor,

Oh sea, no one knows your inmost riches, for

Your jealousy hides secrets none can repeat.

As the uncounted swarm of centuries gathers

You two have fought without pity or remorse, both

From sheer love of the slaughter and of death

Oh, eternal wrestlers, oh, relentless brothers!

SLEEPING CUPID AND PSYCHE / AMORE DORMIENTE E PSYCHE

2011-07-20T22:29:00.005+02:00

oil on canvas 80x120 cm

€ 2.500

Cupid and Psyche

A stunningly beautiful girl, Psyche, is born after two older sisters. People throughout the land worship her beauty so deeply that they forget about the goddess Venus. Venus becomes angry that her temples are falling to ruin, so she plots to ruin Psyche. She instructs her son, Cupid, to pierce the girl with an arrow and make her fall in love with the most vile, hideous man alive. But when Cupid sees Psyche in her radiant glory, he shoots himself with the arrow instead.

Meanwhile, Psyche and her family become worried that she will never find a husband, for although men admire her beauty, they always seem content to marry someone else. Psyche's father prays to Apollo for help, and Apollo instructs her to go to the top of a hill, where she will marry not a man but a serpent. Psyche bravely follows the instructions and falls asleep on the hill. When she wakes up, she discovers a stunning mansion. Going inside, she relaxes and enjoys fine food and luxurious treatment. At night, in the dark, she meets and falls in love with her husband.

She lives happily with him, never seeing him, until one day he tells her that her sisters have been crying for her. She begs to see them, but her husband replies that it would not be wise to do so. Psyche insists that they visit, and when they do, they become extremely jealous of Psyche's beautiful mansion and lush quarters. They deduce that Psyche has never seen her husband, and they convince her that she must sneak a look. Confused and conflicted, Psyche turns on a lamp one night as her husband lies next to her.

When she sees the beautiful Cupid asleep on her bed, she weeps for her lack of faith. Cupid awakens and deserts her because Love cannot live where there is no trust. Cupid returns to his mother, Venus, who again decides to enact revenge on the beautiful girl.

Psyche, meanwhile, journeys all over the land to find Cupid. She decides to go to Venus herself in a plea for love and forgiveness, and when she finally sees Venus, the great goddess laughs aloud. Venus shows her a heap of seeds and tells her that she must sort them all in one night's time if she wants to see Cupid again. This task is impossible for one person alone, but ants pity Psyche and sort the seeds for her. Shocked, Venus then orders Psyche to sleep on the cold ground and eat only a piece of bread for dinner. But Psyche survives the night easily. Finally, Venus commands her to retrieve a golden fleece from the river. She almost drowns herself in the river because of her sorrow, but a reed speaks to her and suggests that she collect the golden pieces of fleece from the thorny briar that catches it. Psyche follows these instructions and returns a sizable quantity to Venus. The amazed goddess, still at it, now orders Psyche to fill a flask from the mouth of the River Styx. When Psyche reaches the head of the river, she realizes that this task seems impossible because the rocks are so dangerous. This time, an eagle helps her and fills the flask. Venus still does not give in. She challenges Psyche to go into the underworld and have Persephone put some of her beauty in a box. Miraculously, Psyche succeeds.

On her way toward giving the box to Venus, she becomes curious, opens the box, and instantly falls asleep. Meanwhile, Cupid looks for Psyche and finds her sleeping. He awakens her, puts the sleeping spell back in the box, and takes her to Zeus to request her immortality. Zeus grants the request and makes Psyche an immortal goddess. She and Cupid are married. Venus now supports the marriage because her son has married a goddess—and because Psyche will no longer distract the men on earth from Venus.

Source:

Edith Hamilton, Mythology

ed. GradeSaver

PSYCHE

2011-07-12T15:30:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas 40 x 50 cm

€ 500,00

PSYCHE

That is, "breath" or "the soul," occurs in the later times of antiquity, as a personification of the human soul, and Apuleius (Met. iv. 28, &c.) relates about her the following beautiful allegoric story. Psyche was the youngest of the three daughters of some king, and excited by her beauty the jealousy and envy of Venus (Aphrodite). In order to avenge herself, the goddess ordered Amor (Eros) to inspire Psyche with a love for the most contemptible of all men : but Amor was so stricken with her beauty that he himself fell in love with her. He accordingly conveyed her to some charming place, where he, unseen and unknown, visited her every night, and left her as soon as the day began to dawn. Psyche might have continued to have enjoyed without interruption this state of happiness, if she had attended to the advice of her beloved, never to give way to her curiosity, or to inquire who he was. But her jealous sisters made her believe that in the darkness of night she was embracing some hideous monster, and accordingly once, while Amor was asleep, she approached him with a lamp, and, to her amazement, she beheld the most handsome and lovely of the gods. In her excitement of joy and fear, a drop of hot oil fell from her lamp upon his shoulder. This awoke Amor, who censured her for her mistrust, and escaped. Psyche's peace was now gone all at once, and after having attempted in vain to throw herself into a river, she wandered about from temple to temple, inquiring after her beloved, and at length came to the palace of Venus. There her real sufferings began, for Venus retained her, treated her as a slave, and inmposed upon her the hardest and most humiliating labours. Psyche would have perished under the weight of her sufferings, had not Amor, who still loved her in secret, invisibly comforted and assisted her in her labours. With his aid she at last succeeded in overcoming the jealousy and hatred of Venus; she became immortal, and was united with him for ever. It is not difficult to recognise in this lovely story the idea of which it is merely the mythical embodiment, for Psyche is evidently the human soul, which is purified by passions and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness. In works of art Psyche is represented as a maiden with the wings of a butterfly, along with Amor in the different situations described in the allegoric story.

source: http://www.mythindex.com

DRAGONFLY / LIBELLULA

2011-07-12T15:26:00.004+02:00

oil on canvas 40 x 50 cm

€ 500,00

PEGASUS AND CHIMAERA / PEGASO E CHIMERA

2011-05-01T15:19:00.007+02:00

oil on canvas 120 x 100 cm

€ 3.000,00

In the city of Corinth, Glaucus is King. But the gods dislike him because he feeds his horses human flesh. Eventually the gods throw him from his chariot and have his horses eat him. It is thought that Glaucus's son is a beautiful young man named Bellerophon, but it is also rumored that the boy's father is Poseidon. More than anything, Bellerophon wants to ride Pegasus, a winged horse, so he goes to Athena's temple to pray. Athena comes to him in a dream and gives him a golden bridle which, she says, will tame the horse. It does, and Pegasus becomes Bellerophon's loyal beast.

Later, Bellerophon kills his brother entirely by accident. He goes to King Proteus for purification, which the king grants. But Bellerophon's situation becomes complicated when the king's wife takes an interest in him. Bellerophon denies the queen's advances, but the evil woman tells her husband that the boy has wronged her and must die. Proteus does not want to kill Bellerophon personally because the boy has eaten at his table, so instead he asks the boy to deliver a letter to the Lycian king.

On the back of Pegasus, Bellerophon travels easily, meets the Lycian king, and stays with him for nine wonderful days. When the king opens his letter, it has clear instructions to kill Bellerophon. But like Proteus, the Lycian king does not want to offend Zeus by acting violently towards a guest, so instead he sends Bellerophon on an impossible journey to kill a monster, Chimaera. With the help of Pegasus, however, Bellerophon kills the beast with no harm to himself. He returns to Proteus, and Proteus sends him on many more challenging adventures.

Eventually, the victorious Bellerophon wins Proteus's respect, and the king even gives the man his daughter's hand in marriage. Unfortunately, Bellerophon loses favor with the gods when he attempts to become more than human and take a place on Mount Olympus. When he tries to take the journey up to the gods’ kingdom, Pegasus throws Bellerophon off his back. Bellerophon wanders alone, "devouring his own soul," until he dies. Pegasus becomes Zeus's favorite animal, residing in the stalls of Mount Olympus and bringing thunder and lightning to him.

source: Edith Hamilton,

Mythology

ed. GradeSaver

AURORA

2011-05-01T15:17:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas 120 x 80 cm.

€ 1.500,00

Eos, in Latin Aurora, the goddess of the morning red, who brings up the light of day from the east. She was a daughter of Hyperion and Theia or Euryphassa, and a sister of Helios and Selene. (Hes. Theog. 371, &c.; Hom. Hymn in Sol. ii.) Ovid (Met. ix. 420, Fast. iv. 373) calls her a daughter of Pallas. At the close of night she rose front the couch of her beloved Tithonus, and on a chariot drawn by the swift horses Lampus and Phaëton she ascended up to heaven from the river Oceanus, to announce the coming light of the sun to the gods as well as to mortals. (Hom. Od. v. 1, &c., xxiii. 244; Virg. Aen. iv. 129, Georg. i. 446; Hom. Hymn in Merc. 185; Theocrit. ii. 148, xiii. 11.) In the Homeric poems Eos not only announces the coming Helios, but accompanies him throughout the day, and her career is not complete till the evening; hence she is sometimes mentioned where one would have expected Helios (Od. v. 390, x. 144); and the tragic writers completely identify her with Hemera, of whom in later times the same myths are related as of Eos. (Paus. i. 3. § 1, iii. 18. § 7.) The later Greek and the Roman poets followed, on the whole, the notions of Eos, which Homer had established, and the splendour of a southern aurora, which lasts much longer than in our climate, is a favourite topic with the ancient poets. Mythology represents her as having carried off several youths distinguished for their beauty. Thus she carried away Orion, but the gods were angry at her for it, until Artemis with a gentle arrow killed him. (Hom. Od. v. 121.) According to Apollodorus (i. 4. § 4) Eos carried Orion to Delos, and was ever stimulated by Aphrodite. Cleitus, the son of Mantius, was carried by Eos to the seats of the immortal gods (Od. xv. 250), and Tithonus, by whom she became the mother of Emathion and Memnon, was obtained in like manner. She begged of Zeus to make him immortal, but forgot to request him to add eternal youth. So long as he was young and beautiful, she lived with him at the end of the earth, on the banks of Oceanus ; and when he grew old, she nursed him, until at length his voice disappeared and his body became quite dry. She then locked the body up in her chamber, or metamorphosed it into a cricket. (Hom. Hymn. in Ven. 218, &c.; Horat. Carm. i. 22. 8, ii. 16. 30; Apollod. iii. 12. § 4; Hes. Theog. 984; Serv. ad Virg. Georg. i. 447, iii. 328, Aen. iv. 585.) When her son Memnon was going to fight against Achilles, she asked Hephaestus to give her arms for him, and when Memnon was killed, her tears fell down in the form of morning dew. (Virg. Aen. viii. 384.) By Astraeus Eos became the mother of Zephyrus, Boreas, Notus, Heosphorus, and the other stars. (Hesiod. Theog. 378.) Cephalus was carried away by her from the summit of mount Hymetttus to Syria, and by him she became the mother of Phaëton or Tithonus, the father of Phaëton; but afterwards she restored her beloved to his wife Procris. (Hes. Theog. 984; Apollod. iii. 14. § 3; Paus. i. 3. § 1; Ov. Met. vii. 703, &c.; Hygin. Fab 189; comp. CEPHALUS.) Eos was represented in the pediment of the kingly stoa at Athens in the act of carrying off Cephalus, and in the same manner she was seen on the throne of the Amyclaean Apollo. (Paus. i. 3. § 1, iii. 18. § 7.) At Olympia she was represented in the act of praying to Zeus for Memnon. (v. 22. 2.) In the works of art still extant, she appears as a winged goddess or in a chariot drawn by four horses.

source: http://www.mythindex.com

ALMOND BLOSSOM / MANDORLO

2011-05-01T15:10:00.006+02:00

oil on canvas 100 x 70 cm

€ 1.100,00

Almond Blossom Haiku

by Andrew Lansdown

I

Bees

Such magnificence

even the bees are absorbed—

blossoming almond.

The more blossom

it has, the more bees it hasn’t—

almond tree.

iii

Flowering almond—

what apiarist could provide

enough beehives?

II

Colours

Collectively

tending towards pink—the white

almond petals.

An inference of pink

in the almond petals strewn

whitely on the lawn.

iii

Last almond petal—

difficult to determine

if it’s white or pink.

III

Compost

I put off mowing

beneath the flowering almond

for another week.

Intermingled with

the clippings from the catcher—

torn almond petals.

iii

So ethereal,

yet even they become compost,

the almond petals.

First published in Quadrant magazine.

Read more of Andrew Lansdown’s work at andrewlansdown.com

2010-08-04T15:33:00.000+02:00

LOTIS

2010-07-19T21:45:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 70 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

LOTIS was a Naiad Nymph of the springs of the River Sperkheios on Mount Othrys in Malis, northern Greece. She metamorphosed into a lotus flower in order to escape the pursuit of the god Priapos.

"You were holding, Greece, the feast of grape-crowned Bacchus [Dionysos], celebrated by custom each third winter. The gods who serve Lyaeus [Dionysos] also attended and whoever is not hostile to play, namely Panes and young Satyri and goddesses who haunt streams and lonely wilds [Naiades and Dryades]. Old Silenus came, too, on a sway-backed donkey, and the red-groined terror of timid birds [Priapos whose garden statue functioned as a scarecrow].

They discovered a grove suitable for party pleasures and sprawled on grass-lined couches. Liber [Dionysos] supplied wine, they had brought their own garlands, a brook gave water for frugal mixing. Naiades were there, some with hair flowing uncombed, others with locks artfully coiffured . . . Some generate tender fires inside the Satyri, others in you, whose brow is bound with pine [Pan]. They inflame you, too, Silenus; your lust can't be quenched, lechery will not allow you to be old. But red Priapus, the garden's glory and protection, fell victim above all to Lotis.

He desires her, he wants her, he sighs for her alone; he nods at her and pesters her with signs. Disdain defines the pretty, beauty is trailed by pride: she teases and scorns him with her looks. It was night. Wine induced slumber and prone bodies lay everywhere, conquered by sleep. Lotis rested furthest away, tired from partying, in the grass beneath some maple branches. Her lover rises and, holding his breath, tracks secretly and silently on tiptoe. When he had reached the snow-white Nympha's secluded bed, he took care his breathing was soundless. And now he was poised on the grass right next to her, and still she was filled with a mighty sleep. His joy soars; he draws the cover from her feet and starts the happy road to his desires.

Then look, the donkey, Silenus' mount, brays loudly, and emits untimely blasts from its throat. The terrified Nympha leaps up, fends Priapus off, and awakens the whole grove with her flight. And the god, whose obscene part was far too ready, was ridiculed by all in the moon's light. The author of the clamour was punished with death. He’s a victim dear to Hellespont’s god." Ovid, Fasti 1. 391 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

"There is a lake [in Oikhalia] whose shelving sides had shaped a sloping shore, and myrtles crowned the ridge. There Dryope had come, not dreaming of fate's design, and, what must make you more indignant, bringing garlands for the Nymphae . . . Near the lakeside was a water-lotus flowered, its crimson blooms like Tyrian dye, fair hope of fruit to come. Dryope picked a posy of these flowers to please her boy. I [Iole] meant to do the same (for I was there), when I saw drops of blood drip from the blossoms of the boughs shiver in horror. For this shrub, you see (too late the peasants told us), was the Nymphe Lotis who fled Priapus's lechery and found changed features there but kept her name. Nothing of this my sister knew. She'd said prayers to the Nymphae and now in terror tried to turn away and leave, but found her feet rooted. She fought to free herself, but failed to move below her bosom. Gradually up from the soil right round her legs and loins bark climbed and clung; and, seeing it, she tried to tear her hair, but found leaves filled her hand, leaves covered her whole head [she was transformed into a tree]." Ovid, Metamorphoses 9. 334 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

source: http://www.theoi.com

POPPY / PAPAVERO

2010-07-19T21:44:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (60 x 80 cm.)

€ 800,00

MINTHE

2010-07-19T21:42:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 80 cm.)

€ 650,00

MINTHE (or Mintha) was a Naiad Nymph of Mount Minthe in Elis (southern Greece) who was loved by the god Haides. When she claimed to be superior to Persephone, the goddess transformed into a mint plant.

"Near Pylos, towards the east, is a mountain named after Minthe, who, according to myth, became the concubine of Haides, was trampled under foot by Kore (Core) [Persephone], and was transformed into garden-mint, the plant which some call hedyosmos. Furthermore, near the mountain is a precinct sacred to Haides." Strabo, Geography 8. 3. 14 (trans. Jones) (Greek geographer C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.)

"Mint (Mintha), men say, was once a maid beneath the earth, a Nymphe of Kokytos (Cocytus), and she lay in the bed of Aidoneus [Hades]; but when he raped the maid Persephone from the Aitnaian hill [Mount Etna in Sicily], then she complained loudly with overweening words and raved foolishly for jealousy, and Demeter in anger trampled upon her with her feet and destroyed her. For she had said that she was nobler of form and more excellent in beauty than dark-eyed Persephone and she boasted that Aidoneus would return to her and banish the other from his halls: such infatuation leapt upon her tongue. And from the earth spray the weak herb that bears her name." Oppian, Halieutica 3. 485 ff (trans. Mair) (Greek poet C3rd A.D.)

"Persephone of old was given grace to change a woman's [Mintha's] form to fragrant mint." Ovid, Metamorphoses 10. 728 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.)

source: http://www.theoi.com

ECHO

2010-07-19T21:40:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (60 x 80 cm.)

€ 800,00

EKHO (or Echo) was an Oreiad nymph of Mount Kithairon (Cithaeron) in Boiotia. The goddess Hera cursed her with the voice of the echo, to only repeat the last words of what was said before, as punishment for distracting her with chatter. She was loved by the god Pan, and herself became enamoured of the boy Narkissos (Narcissus). When the youth spurned her advances the faded away, leaving only her echoing voice behind. In ancient Greek vase painting Ekho was depicted as a winged nymph with her face shrouded in a veil.

"Cephisius [i.e. the boy Narkissos, Narcissus] now had reached his sixteenth year and seemed both man and boy; and many a youth and many a girl desired him, but hard pride ruled in that delicate frame, and never a youth and never a girl could touch his haughty heart. Once as he drove to nets the frightened deer a strange-voiced Nymphe observed him, who must speak if any other speak an cannot speak unless another speak, resounding Echo. Echo was still a body, not a voice, but talkative as now, and with the same power of speaking, only to repeat, as best she could, the last of many words, Saturnia [Hera] had made her so; for many a time when the great goddess might have caught the Nymphae lying with Jove [Zeus] upon the mountainside, Echo discreetly kept her talking till the Nymphae had fled away; and when at last the goddess saw the truth, ‘Your tongue’, she said, ‘with which you tricked me, now its power shall lose, your voice avail but fro the briefest use.’ The event confirmed the threat: when speaking ends, all she can do is double each last word, and echo back again the voice she's heard.

Now when she saw Narcissus wandering in the green byways, Echo's heart was fired; and stealthily she followed, and the more she followed him, the nearer flamed her love. As when a torch is lit and from the tip the leaping sulphur grasps the offered flame. She longed to come to him with winning words, to urge soft please, but nature now opposed; she might not speak the first but--wheat she might--waited for words her voice could say again. It chanced Narcissus, searching for his friends, called ‘Anyone here?’ and Echo answered ‘Here!’ Amazed he looked all round and, raising his voice called ‘Come this way!’ and Echo called ‘This way!’ He looked behind and, no one coming, shouted ‘Why run away?’ and heard his words again. He stopped, and cheated by the answering voice, called ‘Join me here!’ and she, never more glad to give her answer, answered ‘Join me here!’ And graced her words and ran out from the wood to throw her longing arms around his neck. He bolted, shouting ‘Keep your arms from me! Be off! I’ll die before I yield to you.’ And all she answered was ‘I yield to you’.

Shamed and rejected in the woods she hides and has her dwelling in the lonely caves; yet still her love endures and grows on grief, and weeping vigils waste her frame away; her body shrivels, all its moisture dries; only her voice and bones are left; at last only her voice, her bones are turned to stone, so in the woods she hides and hills around, for all to hear, alive, but just a sound.

Thus had Narcissus mocked her; others too, Nymphae of Hill and Water and many a man he mocked; till one scorned youth, with raised hands, prayed, ‘So may he love-- and never win his love!’ And Rhamnusia [Nemesis] approved the righteous prayer . . . [and caused Narkissos to fall in love with his own reflection and waste away in grief.]

No longer lasts the body Echo loved. But she, though angry still and unforgetting, grieved for the hapless boy, and when he moaned ‘Alas’, with answering sob she moaned ‘alas’, and when he beat his hands upon his breast, she gave again the same sad sound of woe. His latest words, gazing and gazing still, he sighed ‘alas! The boy I loved in vain!’ And these the place repeats, and then ‘farewell’, and Echo said ‘farewell’. On the green grass he drooped his weary head, and those bright eyes that loved their master’s beauty closed in death . . . His sister Naides wailed and sheared their locks in mourning for their brother; the Dryades too wailed and sad Echo wailed in answering woe. And then the brandished torches, bier and pyre were ready--but no body anywhere; and in its stead they found a flower--behold, white petals clustered round a cup of gold!" Ovid, Metamorphoses 3. 350 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

source: http://www.theoi.com

AEGLE

2010-07-19T21:38:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 80 cm.)

€ 650,00

AIGLE (or Aegle) was the goddess of radiant good health. She was an attendant of her father, the medicine-god Asklepios. Her sisters included Panakeia (All-Cure), Iaso (Remedy) and Hygeia (Good-Health).

According to Virgil and Pausanias she is the most beautiful of the Naiads, daughter of Zeus and Neaera (Virg. Eclog. vi. 20), by whom Helios begot the Charites. (Paus. ix. 35. § 1.)

source: www.mythindex.com

NEREID / NEREIDE

2010-07-19T21:34:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (60 x 80 cm.)

€ 800,00

Nereis, or Nerine (Virg. Eclog. vii. 37), is a patronymic from Nereus, and applied to his daughters (Nereides, Nêreïdes, and in Homer Nêrêïdes) by Doris, who were regarded by the ancients as marine nymphs of the Mediterranean, in contra-distinction from the Naiades, or the nymphs of fresh water, and the Oceanides, or the nymphs of the great ocean (Eustath. ad Hom. p. 622). The number of the Nereides was fifty, but their names are not the same in all writers (Hom. Il. xviii. 39, &c.; Hes. Theog. 240, &c.; Pind. Isthm. vi. 8; Apollod. i. 2. § 7; Ov. Met. ii. 10, &c.; Virg. Aen. v. 825; Hygin. Fab. praef.) They are described as lovely divinities, and dwelling with their father at the bottom of the sea, and they were believed to be propitious to all sailors, and especially to the Argonauts (Hom. Il. xviii. 36, &c. 140; Apollod. i. 9. § 25; Apollon. Rhod. iv. 859, 930). They were worshipped in several parts of Greece, but more especially in sea-port towns. such as Cardamyle (Paus. iii. 2. § 5), and on the Isthmus of Corinth (ii. 1. § 7). The epithets given them by the poets refer partly to their beauty and partly to their place of abode. They were frequently represented in antiquity, in paintings, on gems, in relievoes and statues, and commonly as youthful, beautiful, and naked maidens, and often grouped together with Tritons and other marine monsters, in which they resemble the Bacchic routs. Sometimes, also, they appear on gems as half maidens and half fish, like mermaids, the belief in whom is quite analogous to the belief of the ancients in the existence of the Nereides.

source: www.mythindex.com

UNICORNS / UNICORNI

2010-07-19T21:31:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (120 x 80 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

“The account of the unicorn is often combined with that of the monocerus, with some sources saying that they are the same animal. Other sources treat the two as separate beasts, and describe them quite differently. Some manuscripts have accounts and illustrations of both.

The unicorn is described variously as resembling a small goat, an ass, or a horse. It has a single horn in the middle of its head; the horn is usually depicted as straight and long, and often with a spiral groove running up it. The unicorn is fierce, strong and swift, and no hunter can catch it. To tame the beast so it can be captured, a virgin girl is placed in its path. The unicorn, seeing the maiden, comes to her and puts its head in her lap and falls asleep. The hunters can then easily capture or kill it. Some accounts say the girl must bare her breast and allow the unicorn to suckle. If the unicorn is captured, it is taken to the king's palace.

The unicorn is the enemy of the elephant, which it attacks with its horn, piercing the elephant's belly. Some sources say that it is the sharp nail on the unicorn's foot that pierces the elephant.

A unicorn's horn is highly valued. It can be used to detect poison, and if dipped in a poisoned drink, the horn causes the poison to be rendered harmless. Powdered unicorn horn is used as an aphrodisiac."

"The unicorn signifies Christ, who was made incarnate in Mary's womb, was captured by the Jews, and was put to death. The unicorn's fierce wildness shows the inability of hell to hold Christ. The single horn represents the unity of God and Christ. The small size of the unicorn is a symbol of Christ's humility in becoming human.”

source: http://bestiary.ca

PELICAN / PELLICANO

2010-07-19T21:28:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

CHIESA MATRICE TUTTI I SANTI
BIANCO (RC) ITALY

“PELICAN. This bears a great love to its young; and if it finds them slain in the nest by a serpent it pierces itself to the heart in their presence, and by bathing them with a shower of blood it restores them to life.”

“PELLICANO. Questo porta grande amore a' sua nati, e trovando quelli nel nido morti dal serpente, si punge a riscontro al core, e col suo piovente sangue bagnandoli li torna in vita.”

Leonardo da Vinci

LUMERPA

2010-07-19T21:17:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

"LUMERPA. FAME. This is born in Asia Magna and shines so brightly that it absorbs its shadows. And in dying it does not lose this light, and the feathers never fall out. And the feather which is detached ceases to shine."

"LUMERPA: FAMA. Questa nasce nell'Asia maggiore, e splende sì forte che toglie le sue ombre, e morendo non perde esso lume, e mai li cade più le penne, e la penna che si spicca più non luce."

Leonardo da Vinci

CRANES / GRU

2010-07-19T21:16:00.004+02:00

oil on canvas (60 x 80 cm.)

€ 800,00

“FIDELITY OR LOYALTY. The cranes are so faithful and loyal to their king that at night when he is asleep some pace up and down the meadow to keep guard over him from a distance; others stand near at hand, and each holds a stone in his foot, so that if sleep should overcome them the stone would fall and make such a noise that they would be wakened up. There are others who sleep together around the king, and they do this every night taking it in turn so that their king may not come to find them wanting.”

FEDELTÀ OVVER LIALTÀ. Le gru son tanto fedeli e leali al loro re che la notte, quando lui dorme,

alcune vanno dintorno al prato per guardare da lunga, altre ne stanno da presso, e tengano un sasso

ciascuna in piè, acciò che se 'l sonno le vincessi, essa pietra caderebbe e farebbe tal romore che si

ridesterebbono; e altre vi sono che 'nsieme intorno al re dormano, e ciò fanno ogni notte, scambiandosi acciò che il loro re non vegni a mancare."

Leonardo da Vinci, Bestiario

PHOENIX / FENICE

2010-07-19T21:13:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

“CONSTANCY. For constancy the phoenix serves as a type; for understanding by nature its renewal it is steadfast to endure the burning flames which consume it, and then it is reborn anew.”

“CONSTANTIA. Alla costanzia s'assimiglia la finice; la quale, intendendo per natura la sua renovazione, è costante a sostene' le cocenti fiamme, le quali la consumano, e poi di novo rinasce.”

Leonardo da Vinci

ERMINE / ERMELLINO

2010-07-19T21:11:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

“MODERATION. The ermine because of its moderation eats only once a day, and it allows itself to be captured by the hunters rather than take refuge in a muddy lair, in order not to stain its purity.”

“MODERANZA. L'ermellino, per la sua moderanzia, non mangia se n[on] una sola volta il dì, e prima si lascia pigliare a' cacciatori che volere fuggire nella infangata tana. Per non maculare la sua gentilezza."

"MODERANZA RAFFRENA TUTTI I VIZI. L'ermellino prima vol morire che 'mbrattarsi.”

Leonardo da Vinci

ANMPHESIBENA / ANFISBENA

2010-07-19T21:08:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

"AMPHISBOENA. This has two heads, one in its usual place the other at its tail, as though it was not sufficient for it to throw its poison from one place only."

"ANPHESIBENE. Questa ha due teste, l'una nel suo loco, l'altra nella coda, come se non bastassi che da uno solo loco gittassi il veneno."

Leonardo da Vinci

STILO

2010-05-19T21:52:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

Stilo (Greek: Stylos, column) is a town and comune in the province of Reggio Calabria, in the Calabria region of southern Italy. It is located 151 km from Reggio Calabria. The economy of the commune is mainly based on agriculture, with production of cereals, oil, wine and cheese. There are mines of iron and lead. At 10 km from the city is the promontory of Cape Stilo, where in 1940 the Battle of Punta Stilo was fought by the Italian and British Navies.

source: wikipedia

SCILLA

2010-05-19T21:49:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 40 cm.)

€ 500,00

Scilla (Greek: Skylla) is a town and comune in Calabria, Italy, administratively part of the Province of Reggio Calabria. It is the traditional site of the sea monster Scylla of Greek mythology. Twenty-two kilometers from the city of Reggio Calabria, Scilla lies in front of the strait of Messina, and it is composed of two parts: the downtown, where the town offices and the residence of the patronal saint are situated, and Marina di Scilla, the beach-front, populated by tourists and thus heavily characterized by hotels and restaurants. Since its beach is the first place north of Reggio Calabria where the waters are not cooled down by the strait draughts.

source: wikipedia

BLUE STILL LIFE / NATURA MORTA BLU

2010-05-19T21:45:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm)

€ 350,00

STILL LIFE WITH ULTRAMARINE JAR / NATURA MORTA CON VASETTO OLTREMARE

2009-10-02T08:39:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

€ 350,00

WALKING AT NIGHT IN ROME / PASSEGGIANDO DI NOTTE PER LE VIE DI ROMA

2009-10-01T18:52:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

MOONLIGHT / ALBA DI LUNA

2009-10-01T18:46:00.004+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

SUNSET / TRAMONTO

2009-10-01T18:46:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

SUNRISE / ALBA

2009-10-01T18:44:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

STILL LIFE WITH WINE "GREEK OF BIANCO" / NATURA MORTA CON VINO "GRECO DI BIANCO"

2009-10-01T18:43:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

PARROCCHIA SS FERMO E RUSTICO, CARAVAGGIO (BG) ITALY

Greek of Bianco: The most precious wine in the world, the wine of the gods of Greece, thousands of years old. Occurs only in the territory of Bianco and Casignana Mare; delicate aroma of melting, yellow amber, it captures the subtle orange blossom exceptionally velvety, delicate and elegant, goes well with pastries and cheeses.

The grapes from this famous wine is dried and can be considered as the oldest wine that you have memory in Italy. It was an unknown settler greek that from the mother country, in the eighth century BC, here transplanted a vine in a foreign land because it could remind the distant homeland. His was a sentimental gesture, but what he produced became the authentic 'wine of the Gods', a wine that has the warmth of the sun and the scent of oranges including couple. The wine became immediately popular: Emperors in Rome and Patrick offered to the people of great respect. Also tell the old stories that were funny little women in delirium, as evidenced by an inscription walls at Pompeii, "you're really cold, or Bice, and ice tonight even if the Greek wine was able to get warm." Legend also has it that the Greek of Bianco has provided the strength necessary to defeat the army soldiers Locri of Crotone, 10 times in the battle fought on the River Festival in 560 BC

From ancient times until today, the Greek of Bianco has always enjoyed a reputation for being endowed with healing powers, as a tonic and friendly, well documented by eminent physicians.

source: http://www.vinogrecodocdibiancomantonico.com/en/about-us/

STILL LIFE WITH WINE "GREEK OF BIANCO", POMEGRANATE AND GRAPE/ NATURA MORTA CON VINO "GRECO DI BIANCO", MELOGRANO E UVA

2009-10-01T18:42:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm.)

€ 500,00

STILL LIFE WITH POMEGRANATES / NATURA MORTA CON MELOGRANI

2009-10-01T18:40:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

STILL LIFE WITH POMEGRANATE / NATURA MORTA CON MELOGRANO

2009-10-01T18:23:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (40 x 30 cm.)

€ 350,00

2009-07-23T12:17:00.000+02:00

METAMORPHOSES

Quando il grande poeta latino Ovidio compose le Metamorfosi attinse ad un bacino sconfinato di miti e leggende che si sono perpetuate nel mondo classico, e riuscì a narrare di ogni forma esistente in natura. Si dilungò in eterni versi musicali scrivendo di creature tormentate che si sostituiscono ad elementi animali e vegetali, trovando nella trasformazione l’unica soluzione al dramma che si stava consumando. Nel corso dei secoli sono numerosi gli artisti che si sono lasciati suggestionare dalle fantasiose immagini tratte da queste pagine: la scultura di Dafne e Apollo del Bernini palpita di vita, nell’affanno della corsa e del desiderio non corrisposto. La giovane Krisztina Szabo restituisce invece, di queste complesse ed intricate vicende mitologiche, una vivida e moderna selezione pittorica, di grande impatto visivo.

L’uniformità del colore e delle forme evidenzia l’astrazione del soggetto che diventa ripetitivo nell’essenza, piatto nell’irrealtà, contemporaneo nella ricerca estetica. Le ninfe non si distinguono nelle fattezze ma nel modus operandi, il contesto vanifica il soggetto.
Esso diventa il fil rouge che unifica le opere, che peraltro mantengono tutta una stessa struttura con una messa a fuoco centrale rispetto allo sguardo dell’osservatore. mitici personaggi non “esistono” nei loro lineamenti, ma nei forti contenuti simbolici che vengono loro attribuiti.

Le prospettive utilizzate sono inusuali, misteriose ed accattivanti, con riferimenti simbolici immediati ed ironici inserimenti di elementi estranei derivanti dalle tradizioni culturali dell’artista.

Barbara Reale

NYMPH DRYAD / NINFA DRIADE

2009-07-23T11:55:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

THE DRYADES & OREIADES were the beautiful Nymphs of the trees, groves, woods and mountain forests. They were the ladies of the oaks and pines, poplar and ash, apple and laurel. For those known as Hamadryades, trees sprung up from the earth at their birth, trees to which their lives were closely tied. While the tree flourished, so did its resident nymph, but when it died she passed away with it.

source: http://www.theoi.com

NYMPH NEREID / NINFA NEREIDE

2009-07-23T11:52:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

source: www.mythindex.com

NYMPH NAIAD / NINFA NAIADE

2009-07-23T11:50:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

THE NAIADES were fresh-water Nymphs who inhabited the rivers, streams, lakes, marshes, fountains and springs of the earth. They were immortal, minor divinities who were invited to attend the assemblies of the gods on Mount Olympos.

The Naiades, along with Artemis, were regarded as the divine nurses of the young, and the protectors of girls and maidens, overseeing their safe passage into adulthood. Similarly Apollon and the River-Gods (fathers of the Naiades) were the patron gods of boys and youths.

Many of the Naiades married local kings and played a prominent role in the genealogies of the royal families of myth. Others, such as the beautiful Naiad daughters of Asopos, were loved by the gods. They often gave their names to towns, cities and islands, and as such were most likely regarded as the goddess-protectors of the community's water supply, which usually consisting of a spring, stream-fed fountain, or well.

The Naiades were depicted in ancient art as beautiful, young women, either seated, standing or reclining beside their springs, and holding a hydria (water jug) or branch of lush foliage.

source: http://www.theoi.com

DEMETER

2009-07-22T12:12:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

One of the great divinities of the Greeks. Tho name Demeter is supposed by some to be the same as gê mêtêr, that is, mother earth, while others consider Deo, which is synonymous with Demeter, as connected with dais and dainumi, and as derived from the Cretan word dêai, barley, so that Demeter would be the mother or giver of barley or of food generally. (Hom. Il. v. 500.) These two etymologies, however do not suggest any difference in the character of the goddess, but leave it essentially the same. Demeter was the daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and sister of Hestia, Hera, Aides, Poseidon, and Zeus. Like the other children of Cronus she was devoured by her father, but he gave her forth again after taking the emetic which Metis had given him. (Hesiod. Theog. 452, &c.; Apollod. i. 2. § 1.) By her brother Zeus, Demeter became the mother of Persephone (Proserpina) and Dionysus (Hesiod. Theoq. 912; Diod. iii. 62), and by Poseidon of Despoena and the horse Arion. (Apollod. iii. 6. § 8; Paus. viii. 37. § 6.) The most prominent part in the mythus of Demeter is the rape of her daughter Persephone by Pluto, and this story not only suggests the main idea embodied in Demeter, but also directs our attention to the principal seats of her worship. Zeus, without the knowledge of Demeter, had promised Persephone to Pluto, and while the unsuspecting maiden was gathering flowers which Zeus had caused to grow in order to tempt her and to favour Pluto's scheme, the earth suddenly opened and she was carried off by Aïdoneus (Pluto). Her cries of anguish were heard only by Hecate and Helios. Her mother, who heard only the echo of her voice, immediately set out in search of her daughter. The spot where Persephone was believed to have been carried into the lower world is different in the different traditions; the common story places it in Sicily, in the neighbourhood of Enna, on mount Aetna, or between the wells Cyane and Arethusa. (Hygin. Fab. 146, 274; Ov. Met. v. 385, Fast. iv. 422; Diod. v. 3; Cic. in Verr. iv. 48.) This legend, which points to Sicily, though undoubtedly very ancient (Pind. Nem. i. 17), is certainly not the original tradition, since the worship of Demeter was introduced into Sicily by colonists from Megara and Corinth. Other traditions place the rape of Persephone at Erineus on the Cephissus, in the neighbourhood of Eleusis (Orph. Hymn. 17.15), at Colonus in Attica (Schol. ad Soph. Oed. Col. 1590), in an island of the Atlantic near the western coast of Spain (Orph. Argon. 1190), at Hermione in Peloponnesus (Apollod. i. 5. § 1; Strab. viii. p. 373), in Crete (Schol. ad Hesiod. Theog. 914), or in the neighbourhood of Pisa. (Paus. vi. 21. § 1.) Others again place the event at Pheneus in Arcadia (Conon, Narr. 15), or at Cyzicus (Propert. iii. 21. 4), while the Homeric hymn on Demeter places it in the plain of Nysa in Asia. In the Iliad and Odyssey the rape of Persephone is not expressly mentioned. Demeter wandered about in search of her daughter for nine days, without taking any nectar or ambrosia, and without bathing. On the tenth she met Hecate, who told her that she had heard the cries of Persephone, but did not know who had carried her off. Both then hastened to Helios, who revealed to them thai Pluto had been the ravisher, and with the consent of Zeus. Demeter in her anger at this news avoided Olympus, and dwelt upon earth among men, conferring presents and blessings wherever she was kindly received, and severely punishing those who repulsed her or did not receive her gifts with proper reverence. In this manner she came to Celeus at Eleusis. [CELEUS.] As the goddess still continued in her anger, and produced famine on the earth by not allowing the fields to produce any fruit, Zeus, anxious that the race of mortals should not become extinct, sent Iris to induce Demeter to return to Olympus. (Comp. Paus. viii. 42. § 2.) But in vain. At length Zeus sent out all the gods of Olympus to conciliate her by entreaties and presents; but she vowed not to return to Olympus, nor to restore the fertility of the earth, till she had seen her daughter again. Zeus accordingly sent Hermes into Erebus to fetch back Persephone. Aïdoneus consented, indeed, to Persephone returning, but gave her a part of a pomegranate to eat, in order that she might not always remain with Demeter. Hermes then took her in Pluto's chariot to Eleusis to her mother, to whom, after a hearty welcome, she related her fate. At Eleusis both were joined by Hecate, who henceforth remained the attendant and companion of Persephone. Zeus now sent Rhea to persuade Demeter to return to Olympus, and also granted that Persephone should spend only a part of the year (i. e. the winter) in subterraneous darkness, and that during the rest of the year she should remain with her mother. (Comp. Ov. Met. v. 565, Fast. iv. 614; Hygin. Fab. 146.) Rhea accordingly descended to the Rharian plain near Eleusis, and conciliated Demeter, who now again allowed the fruits of the fields to grow. But before she parted from Eleusis, she instructed Triptolemus, Diocles, Eumolpus, and Celeus in the mode of her worship and in the mysteries.

These are the main features of the mythus about Demeter, as it is contained in the Homeric hymn; in later traditions it is variously modified. Respecting her connexions with Jasion or Jasius, Tantalus, Melissa, Cychreus, Erysichthon, Pandareus, and others, see the different articles. Demeter was the goddess of the earth (Eurip. Bacch. 276), and more especially of the earth as producing fruit, and consequently of agriculture, whence human food or bread is called by Homer Il. xiii. 322) the gift of Demeter. The notion of her being the author of the earth's fertility was extended to that of fertility in general, and she accordingly was looked upon also as the goddess of marriage (Serv. ad Aen. iv. 58), and was worshipped especially by women. Her priestess also initiated young married people into the duties of their new situation. (Plut. de Off. conj. 1.) As the goddess of the earth she was like the other theoi chthonioi, a subterraneous divinity, who worked in the regions inaccessible to the rays of Helios. As agriculture is the basis of a well-regulated social condition, Demeter is represented also as the friend of peace and as a law-giving goddess. (thesmophoros, Callim. Hymn. in Cer. 138; Orph. Hymn. 39. 4; Virg. Aen. iv. 58; Hom. Il. v. 500; Ov. Met. v. 341; Paus. viii. 15. § 1.) The mythus of Demeter and her daughter embodies the idea, that the productive powers of the earth or nature rest or are concealed during the winter season; the goddess (Demeter and Persephone, also called Cora, are here identified) then rules in the depth of the earth mournful, but striving upwards to the all-animating light. Persephone, who has eaten of the pomegranate, is the fructified flower that returns in spring, dwells in the region of light during a portion of the year, and nourishes men and animals with her fruits. Later philosophical writers, and perhaps the mysteries also, referred the disappearance and return of Persephone to the burial of the body of man and the immortality of his soul. Demeter was worshipped in Crete, Delos, Argolis, Attica, th western coast of Asia, Sicily and Italy, and her worship consisted in a great measure in orgic mysteries. Among the many festivals celebrated in her honour, the Thesmophoria and Eleusinia were the principal ones. (Dict. of Ant. s. vv. Chloëa, Haloa, Thesmophoria, Eleusinia, Megalartia Chthonia.) The sacrifices offered to her consisted of pigs, the symbol of fertility, bulls, cows, honey-cakes, and fruits. (Macrob. Sat. i. 12, iii. 11; Diod. v. 4; Paus. ii. 35. § 4, viii. 42, in fin.; Ov. Fast. iv. 545.) Her temples were called Megara, and were often built in groves in the neighbourhood of towns. (Paus. i. 39. § 4, 40. § 5, vii. 26. § 4, viii. 54. § 5, ix. 25. § 5; Strab. viii. p. 344, ix. p. 435.) Many of her surnames, which are treated of in separate articles, are descriptive of the character of the goddess. She was often represented in works of art, though scarcely one entire statue of her is preserved. Her representations appear to have been brought to ideal perfection by Praxiteles. (Paus. i. 2. § 4.) Her image resembled that of Hera, in its maternal character, but had a softer expression, and her eyes were less widely opened. She was represented sometimes in a sitting attitude, sometimes walking, and sometimes riding in a chariot drawn by horses or dragons, but always in full attire. Around her head she wore a garland of corn-ears or a simple ribband, and in her hand she held a sceptre, cornears or a poppy, sometimes also a torch and the mystic basket. (Paus. iii. 19. § 4, viii. 31. § 1, 42. § 4; Plin. H. N. xxxiv. 8. s. 19.) She appears most frequently on gems and vases.

source: www.mythindex.com

PERSEPHONE

2009-07-22T12:11:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PINACOTECA DELLA FONDAZIONE NOSSIDE
PALAZZO NIEDDU DEL RIO, LOCRI (RC) ITALY

In Latin Proserpina, the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. (Hom. Il. xiv. 326, Od. xi. 216; Hes. Theog. 912, &c. ; Apollod. i. 5. § 1.) Her name is commonly derived from pherein phonon, "to bring" or "cause death," and the form Persephone occurs first in Hesiod (Theog. 913; comp. Hom. Hymm. in Cer. 56), the Homeric form being Persephoneia. But besides these forms of the name, we also find Persephassa, Phersephassa, Persephatta, Phersephatta, Pherrephassa, Pherephatta, and Phersephoneia, for which various etymologies have been proposed. The Latin Proserpina, which is probably only a corruption of the Greek, was erroneously derived by the Romans from proserpere, "to shoot forth." (Cic. de Nat. Deor. ii. 26.) Being the infernal goddess of death, she is also called a daughter of Zeus and Styx (Apollod. i. 3. § 1 ); in Arcadia she was worshipped under the name of Despoena, and was called a daughter of Poseidon Hippius and Demeter, and said to have been brought up by the Titan Anytus. (Paus. viii. 37. § 3, 6, 25. § 5.) Homer describes her as the wife of Hades, and the formidable, venerable, and majestic queen of the Shades, who exercises her power, and carries into effect the curses of men upon the souls of the dead, along with her husband. (Hom. Od. x. 494, xi. 226, 385, 634, Il. ix. 457, 569; comp. Apollod. i. 9. § 15.) Hence she is called by later writers Juno Inferna, Auerna, and Stygia (Virg. Aen. vi. 138; Ov. Met. xiv. 114), and the Erinnyes are said to have been daughters of her by Pluto. (Orph. Hymn. 29. 6, 6, 70. 3.) Groves sacred to her are said by Homer to be in the western extremity of the earth, on the frontiers of the lower world, which is itself called the house of Persephone. (Od. x. 491, 509.)

The story of her being carried off by Pluto, against her will, is not mentioned by Homer, who simply describes her as his wife and queen; and her abduction is first mentioned by Hesiod (Theog. 914). Zeus, it is said, advised Pluto, who was in love with the beautiful Persephone, to carry her off, as her mother, Demeter, was not likely to allow her daughter to go down to Hades. (Comp. Hygin. Fab. 146.) Pluto accordingly carried her off while she was gathering flowers with Artemis and Athena. (Comp. Diod. v. 3.) Demeter, when she found her daughter had disappeared, searched for her all over the earth with torches, until at length she discovered the place of her abode. Her anger at the abduction obliged Zeus to request Pluto to send Persephone (or Cora, i. e. the maiden or daughter) back. Pluto indeed complied with the request, but first gave her a kernel of a pomegranate to eat, whereby she became doomed to the lower world, and an agreement was made that Persephone should spend one third (later writers say one half) of every year in Hades with Pluto, and the remaining two thirds with the gods above. (Apollod. i. 5. 1, &c,; Or. Met. v. 565; comp. DEMETER.) The place where Persephone was said to have been carried off, is different in the various local traditions. The Sicilians, among whom her worship was probably introduced by the Corinthian and Megarian colonists, believed that Pluto found her in the meadows near Enna, and that the well Cyane arose on the spot where he descended with her into the lower world. (Diod. v. 3, &c.; comp. Lydus, De Mens. p. 286; Ov. Fast. iv. 422.) The Cretans thought that their own island had been the scene of the rape (Schol. ad Hes. Theog. 913), and the Eleusinians mentioned the Nysaean plain in Boeotia, and said that Persephone had descended with Pluto into the lower world at the entrance of the western Oceanus. Later accounts place the rape in Attica, near Athens (Schol. ad Soph. Oed. Col. 1590) or at Erineos near Eleusis (Paus. i. 38. § 5), or in the neighbourhood of Lerna (ii. 36. § 7 ; respecting other localities see Conon, Narr. 15 ; Orph. Argon. 1192; Spanheim, ad Callim. Hymn. in Cer. 9).

The story according to which Persephone spent one part of the year in the lower world, and another with the gods above, made her, even with the ancients, the symbol of vegetation which shoots forth in spring, and the power of which withdraws into the earth at other seasons of the year. (Schol. ad Theocrit. iii. 48.) Hence Plutarch identifies her with spring, and Cicero De Nat. Deor. ii. 26) calls her the seed of the fruits of the field. (Comp. Lydus, De Mes. pp. 90, 284; Porphyr. De Ant. Nymph. p. 118. ed. Barnes.) In the mysteries of Eleusis, the return of Cora from the lower world was regarded as the symbol of immortality, and hence she was frequently represented on sarcophagi. In the mystical theories of the Orphics, and what are called the Platonists, Cora is described as the all-pervading goddess of nature, who both produces and destroys every thing (Orph. Hymn. 29. 16), and she is therefore mentioned along, or identified with, other mystic divinities, such as Isis, Rhea, Ge, Hestia, Pandora, Artemis, Hecate. (Tzetz. ad Lyc. 708, 1176; Schol. ad Apollon. Rlod. iii. 467; Schol. ad Theocrit. ii. 12 ; Serv. ad Aen. iv. 609.) This mystic Persephone is further said to have become by Zeus the mother of Dionysus, Iacchus, Zagreus or Sabazius. (Hesych. s. v. Zagreus; Schol. ad Eurip. Or. 952 ; Aristoph. Ran. 326; Diod. iv. 4; Arrian. Exped. Al. ii. 16; Lydus De Mens. p. 198; Cic. de Nat. Deor. iii. 23.) The surnames which are given to her by the poets, refer to her character as queen of the lower world and of the dead, or to her symbolic meaning which we have pointed out above. She was commonly worshipped along with Demeter, and with the same mysteries, as for example, with Demeter Cabeiria in Boeotia. (Paus. ix. 25. § 5.) Her worship further is mentioned at Thebes, which Zeus is said to have given to her as an acknowledgment for a favour she had bestowed on him (Schol. ad Eurip. Phoen. 687): in like manner Sicily was said to have been given to her at her wedding (Pind. Nem. i. 17; Diod. v.2; Schol. ad Theocrit. xv. 14), and two festivals were celebrated in her honour in the island, the one at the time of sowing, and the other at the time of harvest. (Diod. v. 4; Athen. iv. p. 647.) The Eleusinian mysteries belonged to Demeter and Cora in common, and to her alone were dedicated the mysteries celebrated at Athens in the month of Anthesterion. (Comp. Paus. i. 31. § 1, &c.) Temples of Persephone are mentioned at Corinth, Megara, Sparta, and at Locri in the south of Italy. (Paus. iii. 13. § 2; Liv. xxix. 8, 18; Appian, iii. 12.) In works of art Persephone is seen very frequently: she bears the grave and severe character of an infernal Juno, or she appears as a mystical divinity with a sceptre and a little box, but she was mostly represented in the act of being carried off by Pluto. (Paus. viii. 37. § 2; corn p. Hirt. Mythol. Bilderb. i. p. 72, &c.; Welcker, Zeitschrift fur die alte Kunst, p. 20, &c.)

source: www.mythindex.com

PLUTO

2009-07-22T12:10:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Hades, or Pluto (Ploutôn) or poetically Aïdês, Aidôneus and Ploutens, the god of the lower world. Plato (Cratyl. p. 403) observes that people preferred calling him Pluton (the giver of wealth) to pronouncing the dreaded name of Hades or Aides. Hence we find that in ordinary life and in the mysteries the name Pluton became generally established, while the poets preferred the ancient name Aides or the form Pluteus. The etymology of Hades is uncertain: some derive it from a-idein, whence it would signify "the god who makes invisible," and others from hadô or chadô; so that Hades would mean "the allembracer," or "all-receiver." The Roman poets use the names Dis, Orcus, and Tartarus as synonymous with Pluton, for the god of the lower world.

Hades is a son of Cronus and Rhea, and a brother of Zeus and Poseidon. He was married to Persephone, the daughter of Demeter. In the division of the world among the three brothers, Hades obtained "the darkness of night," the abode of the shades, over which he rules. (Apollod. i. 1. § 5, 2. § 1.) Hence he is called the infernal Zeus (Zeus katachthonios), or the king of the shades (anae enerôn, Hom. Il. ix. 457, xx. 61. xv. 187, &c.). As, however, the earth and Olympus belonged to the three brothers in common, he might ascend Olympus, as he did at the time when he was wounded by Heracles. (Il. v. 395; comp. Paus. vi. 25. § 3; Apollod. ii. 7. § 3; Pind. Ol. ix. 31.) But when Hades was in his own kingdom, he was quite unaware of what was going on either on earth or in Olympus (Il. xx. 61, &c.), and it was only the oaths and curses of men that reached his ears, as they reached those of the Erinnyes. He possessed a helmet which rendered the wearer invisible (Il. v. 845), and later traditions stated that this helmet was given him as a present by the Cyclopes after their delivery from Tartarus. (Apollod. i. 2. § 1.) Ancient story mentions both gods and men who were honoured by Hades with the temporary use of this helmet. (Apollod. i. 6. § 2, ii. 4. § 2.) His character is described as fierce and inexorable, whence of all the gods he was most hated by mortals. (Il. ix. 158.) He kept the gates of the lower world closed (whence he is called Pulartês, Il. viii. 367; comp. Paus. v. 20. § 1.; Orph. Hymn. 17. 4), that no shade might be able to escape or return to the region of light. When mortals invoked him, they struck the earth with their hands (Il. ix. 567), and the sacrifices which were offered to him and Persephone consisted of black male and female sheep, and the person who offered the sacrifice had to turn away his face. (Od. x. 527; Serv. ad Virg. Georg. ii. 380.)

The ensign of his power was a staff, with which, like Hermes, he drove the shades into the lower world (Pind. Ol. ix. 35), where he had his palace and shared his throne with his consort Persephone. When he carried off Persephone from the upper world, he rode in a golden chariot drawn by four black immortal horses. (Orph. Argon. 1192, Hymn. 17. 14; Ov. Met. v. 404; Hom. Hymn. in Cer. 19; Claudian, Rapt. Proserp. i. in fin.) Besides these horses he was also believed to have herds of oxen in the lower world and in the island of Erytheia, which were attended to by Menoetius. (Apollod. ii. 5. §§ 10, 12.) Like the other gods, he was not a faithful husband; the Furies are called his daughters (Serv. ad Aen. i. 86); the nymph Minthe, whom he loved, was metamorphosed by Persephone into the plant called mint (Strab. viii. p. 344; Ov. Met. x. 728), and the nymph Leuce, with whom he was likewise in love, was changed by him after her death into a white poplar, and transferred to Elysium. (Serv. ad Virg. Eclog. vii. 61.) Being the king of the lower world, Pluton is the giver of all the blessings that come from the earth: he is the possessor and giver of all the metals contained in the earth, and hence his name Pluton. (Hes. Op. et Dies, 435; Aeschyl. Prom. 805; Strab. iii. p. 147; Lucian, Tim. 21.) He bears several surnames referring to his ultimately assembling all mortals in his kingdom, and bringing them to rest and peace; such as Polydegmon, Polydectes, Clymenus, Pankoitês, &c. (Hom. Hymn. in Cer. 9; Aeschyl. Prom. 153 ; Soph. Antig. 811; Paus. ii. 35. § 7.) Hades was worshipped throughout Greece and Italy. In Elis he had a sacred enclosure and a temple, which was opened only once in every year (Paus. vi. 25. § 3) ; and we further know that lie had temples at Pylos Triphyliacus, near Mount Menthe, between Tralles and Nysa, at Athens in the grove of the Erinnyes, and at Olympia. (Strab. iii. p. 344, xiv. p. 649 Paus. i. 28. § 6, v. 20. § 1.) We possess few representations of this divinity, but in those which still exist, he resembles his brothers Zeus and Poseidon, except that his hair falls down his forehead, and that the majesty of his appearance is dark and gloomy. His ordinary attributes are the key of Hades and Cerberus.

In Homer Aides is invariably the name of the god; but in later times it was transferred to his house, his abode or kingdom, so that it became a name for the lower world itself. We cannot enter here into a description of the conceptions which the ancients formed of the lower world, for this discussion belongs to mythical geography.

source: www.mythindex.com

CLYTIE

2009-07-19T14:51:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses book VI.

[190] The Cytherean Venus brooded on the Sun's betrayal of her stolen joys, and thought to torture him in passion's pains, and wreak requital for the pain he caused. Son of Hyperion! what avails thy light? What is the profit of thy glowing heat? Lo, thou whose flames have parched innumerous lands, thyself art burning with another flame! And thou whose orb should joy the universe art gazing only on Leucothea's charms. Thy glorious eye on one fair maid is fixed, forgetting all besides. Too early thou art rising from thy bed of orient skies, too late thy setting in the western waves; so taking time to gaze upon thy love, thy frenzy lengthens out the wintry hour! And often thou art darkened in eclipse, dark shadows of this trouble in thy mind, unwonted aspect, casting man perplexed in abject terror. Pale thou art, though not betwixt thee and the earth the shadowous moon bedims thy devious way. Thy passion gives to grief thy countenance—for her thy heart alone is grieving—Clymene and Rhodos, and Persa, mother of deluding Circe, are all forgotten for thy doting hope; even Clytie, who is yearning for thy love, no more can charm thee; thou art so foredone. Leucothea is the cause of many tears, Leucothea, daughter of Eurynome, most beauteous matron of Arabia's strand, where spicey odours blow. Eurynome in youthful prime excelled her mother's grace, and, save her daughter, all excelled besides. Leucothea's father, Orchamas was king where Achaemenes whilom held the sway; and Orchamas from ancient Belus' death might count his reign the seventh in descent.

[214] The dark-night pastures of Apollo's (Sol's) steeds are hid below the western skies; when there, and spent with toil, in lieu of nibbling herbs they take ambrosial food: it gives their limbs restoring strength and nourishes anew. Now while these coursers eat celestial food and Night resumes his reign, the god appears disguised, unguessed, as old Eurynome to fair Leucothea as she draws the threads, all smoothly twisted from her spindle. There she sits with twice six hand-maids ranged around and as the god beholds her at the door he kisses her, as if a child beloved and he her mother. And he spoke to her: “Let thy twelve hand-maids leave us undisturbed, for I have things of close import to tell, and seemly, from a mother to her child.”, so when they all withdrew the god began, “Lo, I am he who measures the long year; I see all things, and through me the wide world may see all things; I am the glowing eye of the broad universe! Thou art to me the glory of the earth!” Filled with alarm, from her relaxed fingers she let fall the distaff and the spindle, but, her fear so lovely in her beauty seemed, the God no longer brooked delay: he changed his form back to his wonted beauty and resumed his bright celestial. Startled at the sight the maid recoiled a space; but presently the glory of the god inspired her love; and all her timid doubts dissolved away; without complaint she melted in his arms.

[234] So ardently the bright Apollo (Sol) loved, that Clytie, envious of Leucothea's joy, where evil none was known, a scandal made; and having published wide their secret love, leucothea's father also heard the tale. Relentlessly and fierce, his cruel hand buried his living daughter in the ground, who, while her arms implored the glowing Sun, complained. “For love of thee my life is lost.” And as she wailed her father sowed her there. Hyperion's Son began with piercing heat to scatter the loose sand, a way to open, that she might look with beauteous features forth too late! for smothered by the compact earth, thou canst not lift thy drooping head; alas! A lifeless corse remains. No sadder sight since Phaethon was blasted by the bolt, down-hurled by Jove, had ever grieved the God who daily drives his winged steeds. In vain he strives with all the magic of his rays to warm her limbs anew.—The deed is done—what vantage gives his might if fate deny? He sprinkles fragrant nectar on her grave, and lifeless corse, and as he wails exclaims, “But naught shall hinder you to reach the skies.” At once the maiden's body, steeped in dews of nectar, sweet and odourate, dissolves and adds its fragrant juices to the earth: slowly from this a sprout of Frankincense takes root in riched soil, and bursting through the sandy hillock shows its top.

[256] No more to Clytie comes the author of sweet light, for though her love might make excuse of grief, and grief may plead to pardon jealous words, his heart disdains the schemist of his woe; and she who turned to sour the sweet of love, from that unhallowed moment pined away. Envious and hating all her sister Nymphs, day after day,—and through the lonely nights, all unprotected from the chilly breeze, her hair dishevelled, tangled, unadorned, she sat unmoved upon the bare hard ground. Nine days the Nymph was nourished by the dews, or haply by her own tears' bitter brine;—all other nourishment was naught to her.—She never raised herself from the bare ground though on the god her gaze was ever fixed;—she turned her features towards him as he moved: they say that afterwhile her limbs took root and fastened to the around. A pearly white overspread her countenance, that turned as pale and bloodless as the dead; but here and there a blushing tinge resolved in violet tint; and something like the blossom of that name a flower concealed her face. Although a root now holds her fast to earth, the Heliotrope turns ever to the Sun, as if to prove that all may change and love through all remain.

[271] Thus was the story ended. All were charmed to hear recounted such mysterious deeds. While some were doubting whether such were true others affirmed that to the living Gods is nothing to restrain their wondrous works, though surely of the Gods, immortal, none accorded Bacchus even thought or place. When all had made an end of argument, they bade Alcithoe take up the word: she, busily working on the pendent web, still shot the shuttle through the warp and said; “The amours of the shepherd Daphnis, known to many of you, I shall not relate; the shepherd Daphnis of Mount Ida, who was turned to stone obdurate, for the Nymph whose love he slighted—so the rivalry of love neglected rouses to revenge: neither shall I relate the story told of Scython, double-sexed, who first was man, then altered to a woman: so I pass the tale of Celmus turned to adamant, who reared almighty Jove from tender youth: so, likewise the Curetes whom the rain brought forth to life: Smilax and Crocus, too, transpeciated into little flowers: all these I pass to tell a novel tale, which haply may resolve in pleasant thoughts.

DAPHNE

2009-07-19T14:45:00.003+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses, book I

[452] Daphne, the daughter of a River God was first beloved by Phoebus, the great God of glorious light. 'Twas not a cause of chance but out of Cupid's vengeful spite that she was fated to torment the lord of light. For Phoebus, proud of Python's death, beheld that impish god of Love upon a time when he was bending his diminished bow, and voicing his contempt in anger said; “What, wanton boy, are mighty arms to thee, great weapons suited to the needs of war? The bow is only for the use of those large deities of heaven whose strength may deal wounds, mortal, to the savage beasts of prey; and who courageous overcome their foes.—it is a proper weapon to the use of such as slew with arrows Python, huge, whose pestilential carcase vast extent covered. Content thee with the flames thy torch enkindles (fires too subtle for my thought) and leave to me the glory that is mine.” To him, undaunted, Venus, son replied; “O Phoebus, thou canst conquer all the world with thy strong bow and arrows, but with this small arrow I shall pierce thy vaunting breast! And by the measure that thy might exceeds the broken powers of thy defeated foes, so is thy glory less than mine.”

[466] No more he said, but with his wings expanded thence flew lightly to Parnassus, lofty peak. There, from his quiver he plucked arrows twain, most curiously wrought of different art; one love exciting, one repelling love. The dart of love was glittering, gold and sharp, the other had a blunted tip of lead; and with that dull lead dart he shot the Nymph, but with the keen point of the golden dart he pierced the bone and marrow of the God. Immediately the one with love was filled, the other, scouting at the thought of love, rejoiced in the deep shadow of the woods, and as the virgin Phoebe (who denies the joys of love and loves the joys of chase) a maiden's fillet bound her flowing hair,—and her pure mind denied the love of man. Beloved and wooed she wandered silent paths, for never could her modesty endure the glance of man or listen to his love. Her grieving father spoke to her, “Alas, my daughter, I have wished a son in law, and now you owe a grandchild to the joy of my old age.” But Daphne only hung her head to hide her shame. The nuptial torch seemed criminal to her. She even clung, caressing, with her arms around his neck, and pled, “My dearest father let me live a virgin always, for remember Jove did grant it to Diana at her birth.”

[488] But though her father promised her desire, her loveliness prevailed against their will; for, Phoebus when he saw her waxed distraught, and filled with wonder his sick fancy raised delusive hopes, and his own oracles deceived him.—As the stubble in the field flares up, or as the stacked wheat is consumed by flames, enkindled from a spark or torch the chance pedestrian may neglect at dawn; so was the bosom of the god consumed, and so desire flamed in his stricken heart. He saw her bright hair waving on her neck;—“How beautiful if properly arranged! ” He saw her eyes like stars of sparkling fire, her lips for kissing sweetest, and her hands and fingers and her arms; her shoulders white as ivory;—and whatever was not seen more beautiful must be.

[502] Swift as the wind from his pursuing feet the virgin fled, and neither stopped nor heeded as he called; “O Nymph! O Daphne! I entreat thee stay, it is no enemy that follows thee—why, so the lamb leaps from the raging wolf, and from the lion runs the timid faun, and from the eagle flies the trembling dove, all hasten from their natural enemy but I alone pursue for my dear love. Alas, if thou shouldst fall and mar thy face, or tear upon the bramble thy soft thighs, or should I prove unwilling cause of pain! The wilderness is rough and dangerous, and I beseech thee be more careful—I will follow slowly.—Ask of whom thou wilt, and thou shalt learn that I am not a churl—I am no mountain dweller of rude caves, nor clown compelled to watch the sheep and goats; and neither canst thou know from whom thy feet fly fearful, or thou wouldst not leave me thus. The Delphic Land, the Pataraean Realm, Claros and Tenedos revere my name, and my immortal sire is Jupiter. The present, past and future are through me in sacred oracles revealed to man, and from my harp the harmonies of sound are borrowed by their bards to praise the Gods. My bow is certain, but a flaming shaft surpassing mine has pierced my heart—untouched before. The art of medicine is my invention, and the power of herbs; but though the world declare my useful works there is no herb to medicate my wound, and all the arts that save have failed their lord.”

[525] But even as he made his plaint, the Nymph with timid footsteps fled from his approach, and left him to his murmurs and his pain. Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft wind exposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fond fluttered amid her garments, and the breeze fanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemed most lovely to his fancy in her flight; and mad with love he followed in her steps, and silent hastened his increasing speed. As when the greyhound sees the frightened hare flit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched, impetuous, he rushes on his prey, and gains upon her till he treads her feet, and almost fastens in her side his fangs; but she, whilst dreading that her end is near, is suddenly delivered from her fright; so was it with the god and virgin: one with hope pursued, the other fled in fear; and he who followed, borne on wings of love, permitted her no rest and gained on her, until his warm breath mingled in her hair. Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyes she gazed upon her father's waves and prayed, “Help me my father, if thy flowing streams have virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth! Destroy the beauty that has injured me, or change the body that destroys my life.” Before her prayer was ended, torpor seized on all her body, and a thin bark closed around her gentle bosom, and her hair became as moving leaves; her arms were changed to waving branches, and her active feet as clinging roots were fastened to the ground – her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—

[553] Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree, (For still, though changed, her slender form remained) and with his right hand lingering on the trunk he felt her bosom throbbing in the bark. He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine. His form with hers, and fondly kissed the wood that shrank from every kiss. And thus the God; “Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shalt be called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves, O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows, be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre; the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee, as long processions climb the Capitol and chanting throngs proclaim their victories; and as a faithful warden thou shalt guard the civic crown of oak leaves fixed between thy branches, and before Augustan gates. And as my youthful head is never shorn, so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leaves unchanging to thy glory.” Here the God, Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament, and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs, so lately fashioned; and it seemed to him her graceful nod gave answer to his love.

CYGNUS

2009-07-19T14:41:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses, book II

[319] And far fell Phaethon with flaming hair; as haply from the summer sky appears a falling star, although it never drops to startled earth.—Far distant from his home the deep Eridanus received the lad and bathed his foaming face. His body charred by triple flames Hesperian Naiads bore, still smoking, to a tomb, and this engraved upon the stone; “Here Phaethon's remains lie buried. He who drove his father's car and fell, although he made a great attempt.”

[329] Filled with consuming woe, his father hid his countenance which grief had overcast. And now, surpassing our belief, they say a day passed over with no glowing sun;—but light-affording flames appeared to change disaster to the cause of good. Amazed, the woeful Clymene, when she had moaned in grief, amid her lamentations tore her bosom, as across the world she roamed, at first to seek his lifeless corpse, and then his bones. She wandered to that distant land and found at last his bones ensepulchred. There, clinging to the grave she fell and bathed with many tears his name on marble carved, and with her bosom warmed the freezing stone.

[340] And all the daughters of the Sun went there giving their tears, alas a useless gift;—they wept and beat their breasts, and day and night called, “Phaethon,” who heard not any sound of their complaint:—and there they lay foredone, all scattered round the tomb. The silent moon had four times joined her horns and filled her disk, while they, according to an ancient rite, made lamentation. Prone upon the ground, the eldest, Phaethusa, would arise from there, but found her feet were growing stiff; and uttered moan. Lampetia wished to aid her sister but was hindered by new roots; a third when she would tear her hair, plucked forth but leaves: another wailed to find her legs were fastened in a tree; another moaned to find her arms to branches had been changed. And while they wondered, bark enclosed their thighs, and covered their smooth bellies, and their breasts, and shoulders and their hands, but left untouched their lips that called upon their mother's name. What can she do for them? Hither she runs and thither runs, wherever frenzy leads. She kisses them, alas, while yet she may! But not content with this, she tried to hale their bodies from the trees; and she would tear the tender branches with her hands, but lo! The blood oozed out as from a bleeding wound; and as she wounded them they shrieked aloud, “Spare me! O mother spare me; in the tree my flesh is torn! farewell! farewell! farewell!” And as they spoke the bark enclosed their lips. Their tears flow forth, and from the new-formed boughs amber distils and slowly hardens in the sun; and far from there upon the waves is borne to deck the Latin women.

[367] Cycnus, son of Sthenelus, by his maternal house akin to Phaethon, and thrice by love allied, beheld this wonderful event.—he left his kingdom of Liguria, and all its peopled cities, to lament where the sad sisters had increased the woods, beside the green banks of Eridanus. There, as he made complaint, his manly voice began to pipe a treble, shrill; and long gray plumes concealed his hair. A slender neck extended from his breast, and reddening toes were joined together by a membrane. Wings grew from his sides, and from his mouth was made a blunted beak. Now Cycnus is a swan, and yet he fears to trust the skies and Jove, for he remembers fires, unjustly sent, and therefore shuns the heat that he abhors, and haunts the spacious lakes and pools and streams that quench the fires.

SYRINX

2009-07-17T15:31:00.004+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses, book I

[689] … “ A famous Naiad dwelt among the Hamadryads, on the cold Arcadian summit Nonacris, whose name was Syrinx. Often she escaped the Gods, that wandered in the groves of sylvan shades, and often fled from Satyrs that pursued. Vowing virginity, in all pursuits she strove to emulate Diana's ways: and as that graceful goddess wears her robe, so Syrinx girded hers that one might well believe Diana there. Even though her bow were made of horn, Diana's wrought of gold, vet might she well deceive. “Now chanced it Pan. Whose head was girt with prickly pines, espied the Nymph returning from the Lycian Hill, and these words uttered he”—But Mercury refrained from further speech, and Pan's appeal remains untold. If he had told it all, the tale of Syrinx would have followed thus:—but she despised the prayers of Pan, and fled through pathless wilds until she had arrived the placid Ladon's sandy stream, whose waves prevented her escape. There she implored her sister Nymphs to change her form: and Pan, believing he had caught her, held instead some marsh reeds for the body of the Nymph; and while he sighed the moving winds began to utter plaintive music in the reeds, so sweet and voice like that poor Pan exclaimed; “Forever this discovery shall remain a sweet communion binding thee to me.”—and this explains why reeds of different length, when joined together by cementing wax, derive the name of Syrinx from the maid.

ALCITHOE

2009-07-15T17:04:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book IV.

[1] Alcithoe, daughter of King Minyas, consents not to the orgies of the God; denies that Bacchus is the son of Jove, and her two sisters join her in that crime. 'Twas festal-day when matrons and their maids, keeping it sacred, had forbade all toil.—And having draped their bosoms with wild skins, they loosed their long hair for the sacred wreaths, and took the leafy thyrsus in their hands;—for so the priest commanded them. Austere the wrath of Bacchus if his power be scorned. Mothers and youthful brides obeyed the priest; and putting by their wickers and their webs, dropt their unfinished toils to offer up frankincense to the God; invoking him with many names:—“O Bacchus! O Twice-born! O Fire-begot! Thou only child Twice-mothered! God of all those who plant the luscious grape! O Liber!” All these names and many more, for ages known—throughout the lands of Greece. Thy youth is not consumed by wasting time; and lo, thou art an ever-youthful boy, most beautiful of all the Gods of Heaven, smooth as a virgin when thy horns are hid.—The distant east to tawny India's clime, where rolls remotest Ganges to the sea, was conquered by thy might.—O Most-revered! Thou didst destroy the doubting Pentheus, and hurled the sailors' bodies in the deep, and smote Lycurgus, wielder of the ax. And thou dost guide thy lynxes, double-yoked, with showy harness.—Satyrs follow thee; and Bacchanals, and old Silenus, drunk, unsteady on his staff; jolting so rough on his small back-bent ass; and all the way resounds a youthful clamour; and the screams of women! and the noise of tambourines! And the hollow cymbals! and the boxwood flutes,—fitted with measured holes.—Thou art implored by all Ismenian women to appear peaceful and mild; and they perform thy rites.”

[32] Only the daughters of King Minyas are carding wool within their fastened doors, or twisting with their thumbs the fleecy yarn, or working at the web. So they corrupt the sacred festival with needless toil, keeping their hand-maids busy at the work. And one of them, while drawing out the thread with nimble thumb, anon began to speak; “While others loiter and frequent these rites fantastic, we the wards of Pallas, much to be preferred, by speaking novel thoughts may lighten labour. Let us each in turn, relate to an attentive audience, a novel tale; and so the hours may glide.” it pleased her sisters, and they ordered her to tell the story that she loved the most. So, as she counted in her well-stored mind the many tales she knew, first doubted she whether to tell the tale of Derceto,—that Babylonian, who, aver the tribes of Palestine, in limpid ponds yet lives,—her body changed, and scales upon her limbs; or how her daughter, having taken wings, passed her declining years in whitened towers. Or should she tell of Nais, who with herbs, too potent, into fishes had transformed the bodies of her lovers, till she met herself the same sad fate; or of that tree which sometime bore white fruit, but now is changed and darkened by the blood that stained its roots…

NYCTIMENE

2009-07-15T17:03:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses book II.

Nictimene committed the most wicked crimes, for which Minerva changed her to the bird of night—and ever since has claimed her as her own instead of me; and this despite the deed for which she shuns the glorious light of day, and conscious of her crime conceals her shame in the dark night—Minerva's Owl now called. All the glad birds of day, indignant shun, and chase her from the skies.

SCYLLA

2009-07-15T17:00:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book VIII.

[1] Now Lucifer unveiled the glorious day, and as the session of the night dissolved, the cool east wind declined, and vapors wreathed the moistened valleys. Veering to the south the welcome wind gave passage to the sons of Aeacus, and wafted Cephalus on his returning way, propitious; where before the wonted hour, they entered port. King Minos, while the fair wind moved their ship, was laying waste the land of Megara. He gathered a great army round the walls built by Alcathous, where reigned in splendor King Nisus—mighty and renowned in war—upon the center of whose hoary head a lock of purple hair was growing.—Its proved virtue gave protection to his throne.

[11] Six times the horns of rising Phoebe grew, and still the changing fortune of the war was in suspense; so, Victory day by day between them hovered on uncertain wings. Within that city was a regal tower on tuneful walls; where once Apollo laid his golden harp; and in the throbbing stone the sounds remained. And there, in times of peace the daughter of king Nisus loved to mount the walls and strike the sounding stone with pebbles: so, when the war began, she often viewed the dreadful contest from that height; until, so long the hostile camp remained, she had become acquainted with the names, and knew the habits, horses and the arms of many a chief, and could discern the signs of their Cydonean quivers. More than all, the features of King Minos were engraved upon the tablets of her mind. And when he wore his helmet, crested with gay plumes, she deemed it glorious; when he held his shield shining with gold, no other seemed so grand; and when he poised to hurl the tough spear home, she praised his skill and strength; and when he bent his curving bow with arrow on the cord, she pictured him as Phoebus taking aim,—but when, arrayed in purple, and upon the back of his white war horse, proudly decked with richly broidered housings, he reined in the nervous steed, and took his helmet off, showing his fearless features, then the maid, daughter of Nisus, could control herself no longer; and a frenzy seized her mind. She called the javelin happy which he touched, and blessed were the reins within his hand. She had an impulse to direct her steps, a tender virgin, through the hostile ranks, or cast her body from the topmost towers into the Gnossian camp. She had a wild desire to open to the enemy the heavy brass-bound gates, or anything that Minos could desire.

[42] And as she sat beholding the white tents, she cried, “Alas! Should I rejoice or grieve to see this war? I grieve that Minos is the enemy of her who loves him; but unless the war had brought him, how could he be known to me? But should he take me for a hostage? That might end the war—a pledge of peace, he might keep me for his companion. O, supreme of mankind! she who bore you must have been as beautiful as you are; ample cause for Jove to lose his heart. O, happy hour! If moving upon wings through yielding air, I could alight within the hostile camp in front of Minos, and declare to him my name and passion! Then would I implore what dowry he could wish, and would provide whatever he might ask, except alone the city of my father. Perish all my secret hopes before one act of mine should offer treason to accomplish it. And yet, the kindness of a conqueror has often proved a blessing, manifest to those who were defeated. Certainly the war he carries on is justified by his slain son. He is a mighty king, thrice strengthened in his cause. Undoubtedly we shall be conquered, and, if such a fate awaits our city, why should he by force instead of my consuming love, prevail to open the strong gates? Without delay and dreadful slaughter, it is best for him to conquer and decide this savage war. Ah, Minos, how I fear the bitter fate should any warrior hurl his cruel spear and pierce you by mischance, for surely none can be so hardened to transfix your breast with purpose known. Oh, let her love prevail to open for his army the great gates. Only the thought of it, has filled her soul; she is determined to deliver up her country as a dowry with herself, and so decide the war!

[69] "But what avails this idle talk. A guard surrounds the gates, my father keeps the keys, and he alone is my obstruction, and the innocent account of my despair. Would to the Gods I had no father! Is not man the God of his own fortune, though his idle prayers avail not to compel his destiny? Another woman crazed with passionate desires, which now inflame me, would not hesitate, but with a fierce abandon would destroy whatever checked her passion. Who is there with love to equal mine? I dare to go through flames and swords; but swords and flames are not now needed, for I only need my royal father's lock of purple hair. More precious than fine gold, it has a power to give my heart all that it may desire.”

[81] While Scylla said this, night that heals our cares came on, and she grew bolder in the dark. And now it is the late and silent hour when slumber takes possession of the breast. Outwearied with the cares of busy day; then as her father slept, with stealthy tread she entered his abode, and there despoiled, and clipped his fatal lock of purple hair. Concealing in her bosom the sad prize of crime degenerate, she at once went forth a gate unguarded, and with shameless haste sped through the hostile army to the tent of Minos, whom, astonished, she addressed: “Only my love has led me to this deed. The daughter of King Nisus, I am called the maiden Scylla. Unto you I come and offer up a power that will prevail against my country, and I stipulate no recompense except yourself. Take then this purple hair, a token of my love.—Deem it not lightly as a lock of hair held idly forth to you; it is in truth my father's life.” And as she spoke she held out in her guilty hand the prize, and begged him to accept it with her love. Shocked at the thought of such a heinous crime, Minos refused, and said, “O execrable thing! Despised abomination of our time! May all the Gods forever banish you from their wide universe, and may the earth and the deep ocean be denied to you! So great a monster shall not be allowed to desecrate the sacred Isle of Crete, where Jupiter was born.”

[101] So Minos spoke. Nevertheless he conquered Megara, (so aided by the damsel's wicked deed) and as a just and mighty king imposed his own conditions on the vanquished land. He ordered his great fleet to tarry not; the hawsers were let loose, and the long oars quickly propelled his brazen-pointed ships.—When Scylla saw them launching forth, observed them sailing on the mighty deep, she called with vain entreaties; but at last, aware the prince ignored her and refused to recompense her wickedness, enraged, and raving, she held up her impious hands, her long hair streaming on the wind,—and said: “Oh, wherefore have you flown, and left behind the author of your glory. Oh, wretch! wretch to whom I offered up my native land, and sacrificed my father! Where have you now flown, ungrateful man whose victory is both my crime and virtue? And the gift presented to you, and my passion, have these not moved you? All my love and hope in you alone! Forsaken by my prince, shall I return to my defeated land? If never ruined it would shut its walls against me.—Shall I seek my father's face whom I delivered to all-conquering arms? My fellow-citizens despise my name; my friends and neighbors hate me; I have shut the world against me, only in the hope that Crete would surely welcome me;—and now, he has forbidden me.

[119] "And is it so I am requited by this thankless wretch! Europa could not be your mother! Spawn of cruel Syrtis! Savage cub of fierce Armenian tigress;—or Charybdis, tossed by the wild South-wind begot you! Can you be the son of Jupiter? Your mother was not ever tricked by the false semblance of a bull. All that story of your birth is false! You are the offspring of a bull as fierce as you are! Let your vengeance fall upon me, O my father Nisus, let the ruined city I betrayed rejoice at my misfortunes—richly merited—destroy me, you whom I have ruined;—I should perish for my crimes! But why should you, who conquered by my crime, abandon me? The treason to my father and my land becomes an act of kindness in your cause. That woman is a worthy mate for you who hid in wood deceived the raging bull, and bore to him the infamy of Crete. I do not wonder that Pasiphae preferred the bull to you, more savage than the wildest beast. Alas, alas for me! Do my complaints reach your unwilling ears? Or do the same winds waft away my words that blow upon your ships, ungrateful man?—Ah, wretched that I am, he takes delight in hastening from me. The deep waves resound as smitten by the oars, his ship departs; and I am lost and even my native land is fading from his sight. Oh heart of flint! you shall not prosper in your cruelty, and you shall not forget my sacrifice; in spite of everything I follow you! I'll grasp the curving stern of your swift ship, and I will follow through unending seas.”

[142] And as she spoke, she leaped into the waves, and followed the receding ships—for strength from passion came to her. And soon she clung unwelcome, to the sailing Gnossian ship. Meanwhile, the Gods had changed her father's form and now he hovered over the salt deep, a hawk with tawny wings. So when he saw his daughter clinging to the hostile ship he would have torn her with his rending beak;—he darted towards her through the yielding air. In terror she let go, but as she fell the light air held her from the ocean spray; her feather-weight supported by the breeze; she spread her wings, and changed into a bird. They called her “Ciris” when she cut the wind, and “Ciris”—cut-the-lock—remains her name.

NARCISSUS

2009-07-15T16:57:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 1500,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book III.

[339] Tiresias' fame of prophecy was spread through all the cities of Aonia, for his unerring answers unto all who listened to his words. And first of those that harkened to his fateful prophecies, a lovely Nymph, named Liriope, came with her dear son, who then fifteen, might seem a man or boy—he who was born to her upon the green merge of Cephissus' stream—that mighty River-God whom she declared the father of her boy. – she questioned him. Imploring him to tell her if her son, unequalled for his beauty, whom she called Narcissus, might attain a ripe old age. To which the blind seer answered in these words, “If he but fail to recognize himself, a long life he may have, beneath the sun,”—so, frivolous the prophet's words appeared; and yet the event, the manner of his death, the strange delusion of his frenzied love, confirmed it. Three times five years so were passed. Another five-years, and the lad might seem a young man or a boy. And many a youth, and many a damsel sought to gain his love; but such his mood and spirit and his pride, none gained his favour.

[359] Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove's embrace, had made escape adown a mountain. But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others' voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.

[370] One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck. He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, 'tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.

[402] Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.

[407] There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle's mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo's, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt. And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that's pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.

[435] Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I? Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. 'Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own. When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive 'Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”

[474] He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters. When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning 'neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.

[494] But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master's beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body's place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.

OPHELTES

2009-07-15T16:55:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book III.

[580] But fearless he replied; “They call my name Acoetes; and Maeonia is the land from whence I came. My parents were so poor, my father left me neither fruitful fields, tilled by the lusty ox, nor fleecy sheep, nor lowing kine; for, he himself was poor, and with his hook and line was wont to catch the leaping fishes, landed by his rod. His skill was all his wealth. And when to me he gave his trade, he said, `You are the heir of my employment, therefore unto you all that is mine I give,’ and, at his death, he left me nothing but the running waves.—they are the sum of my inheritance. And, afterwhile, that I might not be bound forever to my father's rocky shores, I learned to steer the keel with dextrous hand; and marked with watchful gaze the guiding stars; the watery Constellation of the Goat, Olenian, and the Bear, the Hyades, the Pleiades, the houses of the winds, and every harbour suitable for ships. So chanced it, as I made for Delos, first I veered close to the shores of Chios: there I steered, by plying on the starboard oar, and nimbly leaping gained the sea-wet strand. “Now when the night was past and lovely dawn appeared, I,rose from slumber, and I bade my men to fetch fresh water, and I showed the pathway to the stream. Then did I climb a promontory's height, to learn from there the promise of the winds; which having done, I called the men and sought once more my ship.

[605] Opheltes, first of my companions, cried, `Behold we come!’ And, thinking he had caught a worthy prize in that unfruitful land, he led a boy, of virgin-beauty formed, across the shore. Heavy with wine and sleep the lad appeared to stagger on his way,—with difficulty moving. When I saw the manner of his dress, his countenance and grace, I knew it was not mortal man, and being well assured, I said to them; `What Deity abideth in that form I cannot say; but 'tis a god in truth.—O whosoever thou art, vouchsafe to us propitious waters; ease our toils, and grant to these thy grace.’ “At this, the one of all my mariners who was the quickest hand, who ever was the nimblest on the yards, and first to slip the ropes, Dictys exclaimed; `Pray not for us!’ and all approved his words. The golden haired, the guardian of the prow, Melanthus, Libys and Alcimedon approved it; and Epopeus who should urge the flagging spirits, and with rhythmic chants give time and measure to the beating oars, and all the others praised their leader's words,—so blind is greed of gain.—Then I rejoined, `Mine is the greatest share in this good ship, which I will not permit to be destroyed, nor injured by this sacred freight:’ and I opposed them as they came.

[623] “Then Lycabas, the most audacious of that impious crew, began to rage. He was a criminal, who, for a dreadful murder, had been sent in exile from a Tuscan city's gates. Whilst I opposed he gripped me by the throat, and shook me as would cast me in the deep, had I not firmly held a rope, half stunned: and all that wicked crew approved the deed. Then Bacchus (be assured it was the God) as though the noise disturbed his lethargy from wine, and reason had regained its power, at last bespake the men, `What deeds are these? What noise assails my ears? What means decoyed my wandering footsteps? Whither do ye lead?’ `Fear not,’ the steersman said, ‘but tell us fair the haven of your hope, and you shall land whereso your heart desires.’ `To Naxos steer,’ Quoth Bacchus, ‘for it is indeed my home, and there the mariner finds welcome cheer.’ Him to deceive, they pledged themselves, and swore by Gods of seas and skies to do his will: and they commanded me to steer that way.

[640] “The Isle of Naxos was upon our right; and when they saw the sails were set that way, they all began to shout at once, `What, ho! Thou madman! what insanity is this, Acoetes? Make our passage to the left.’ And all the while they made their meaning known by artful signs or whispers in my ears. I was amazed and answered, `Take the helm.’ And I refused to execute their will, atrocious, and at once resigned command. Then all began to murmur, and the crew reviled me. Up Aethalion jumped and said, `As if our only safety is in you!’ With this he swaggered up and took command; and leaving Naxos steered for other shores. Then Bacchus, mocking them,—as if but then he had discovered their deceitful ways,—looked on the ocean from the rounded stern, and seemed to sob as he addressed the men; `Ah mariners, what alien shores are these? 'Tis not the land you promised nor the port my heart desires. For what have I deserved this cruel wrong? What honour can accrue if strong men mock a boy; a lonely youth if many should deceive?’ And as he spoke, I, also, wept to see their wickedness.

[656] “The impious gang made merry at our tears, and lashed the billows with their quickening oars. By Bacchus do I swear to you (and naught celestial is more potent) all the things I tell you are as true as they surpass the limit of belief. The ship stood still as if a dry dock held it in the sea.—The wondering sailors laboured at the oars, and they unfurled the sails, in hopes to gain some headway, with redoubled energies; but twisting ivy tangled in the oars, and interlacing held them by its weight. And Bacchus in the midst of all stood crowned with chaplets of grape-leaves, and shook a lance covered with twisted fronds of leafy vines. Around him crouched the visionary forms of tigers, lynxes, and the mottled shapes of panthers.

[670] Then the mariners leaped out, possessed by fear or madness. Medon first began to turn a swarthy hue, and fins grew outward from his flattened trunk, and with a curving spine his body bent.—then Lycabas to him, `What prodigy is this that I behold?’ Even as he spoke, his jaws were broadened and his nose was bent; his hardened skin was covered with bright scales. And Libys, as he tried to pull the oars, could see his own hands shrivel into fins; another of the crew began to grasp the twisted ropes, but even as he strove to lift his arms they fastened to his sides;—with bending body and a crooked back he plunged into the waves, and as he swam displayed a tail, as crescent as the moon. Now here, now there, they flounce about the ship; they spray her decks with brine; they rise and sink; they rise again, and dive beneath the waves; they seem in sportive dance upon the main; out from their nostrils they spout sprays of brine; they toss their supple sides. And I alone, of twenty mariners that manned that ship, remained. A cold chill seized my limbs,—I was so frightened; but the gracious God now spake me fair, `Fear not and steer for Naxos.’ And when we landed there I ministered on smoking altars Bacchanalian rites.”

OCYRHOE

2009-07-13T18:17:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book II.

[633] Chiron, the Centaur, taught his pupil; proud that he was honoured by that God-like charge. Behold, his lovely daughter, who was born beside the margin of a rapid stream, came forward, with her yellow hair as gold adown her shoulders.—She was known by name Ocyroe. The hidden things that Fate conceals, she had the power to tell; for not content was she to learn her father's arts, but rather pondered on mysterious things. So, when the god of Frenzy warmed her breast, gazing on Aesculapius,—the child of Phoebus and Coronis, while her soul was gifted, with prophetic voice she said; “O thou who wilt bestow on all the world the blessed boon of health, increase in strength! To thee shall mortals often owe their lives: to thee is given the power to raise the dead. But when against the power of Deities thou shalt presume to dare thy mortal skill, the bolts of Jove will shatter thy great might, and health no more be thine from thence to grant. And from a god thou shalt return to dust, and once again from dust become a God; and thou shalt thus renew thy destiny.—“And thou, dear father Chiron, brought to birth with pledge of an immortal life, informed with ever-during strength, when biting flames of torment from the baneful serpent's blood are coursing in thy veins, thou shalt implore a welcome death; and thy immortal life the Gods shall suffer to the power of death.—and the three Destinies shall cut thy thread.”

[655] She would continue these prophetic words but tears unbidden trickled down her face; and, as it seemed her sighs would break her heart, she thus bewailed; “The Fates constrain my speech and I can say no more; my power has gone. Alas, my art, although of little force and doubtful worth, has brought upon my head the wrath of Heaven. “Oh wherefore did I know to cast the future? Now my human form puts on another shape, and the long grass affords me needed nourishment. I want to range the boundless plains and have become, in image of my father's kind, a mare: but gaining this, why lose my human shape? My father's form is one of twain combined.” And as she wailed the words became confused and scarcely understood; and soon her speech was only as the whinny of a mare. Down to the meadow's green her arms were stretched; her fingers joined together, and smooth hoofs made of five nails a single piece of horn. Her face and neck were lengthened, and her hair swept downward as a tail; the scattered locks that clung around her neck were made a mane, tossed over to the right. Her voice and shape were altogether changed, and since that day the change has given her a different name.

CALLISTO

2009-07-13T18:15:00.007+02:00

Olio su tela (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book II.

[401] Now after Phaethon had suffered death for the vast ruin wrought by scorching flames, all the great walls of Heaven's circumference, unmeasured, views the Father of the Gods, with searching care, that none impaired by heat may fall in ruins. Well assured they stand in self-sustaining strength, his view, at last, on all the mundane works of man is turned;—his loving gaze long resting on his own Arcadia. And he starts the streams and springs that long have feared to flow; paints the wide earth with verdant fields; covers the trees with leaves, and clothes the injured forests in their green. While wandering in the world, he stopped amazed, when he beheld the lovely Nymph, Calisto, and fires of love were kindled in his breast. Calisto was not clothed in sumptuous robes, nor did she deck her hair in artful coils; but with a buckle she would gird her robe, and bind her long hair with a fillet white. She bore a slender javelin in her hand, or held the curving bow; and thus in arms as chaste Diana, none of Maenalus was loved by that fair goddess more than she. But everything must change.

[417] When bright the sun rolled down the sky, beyond his middle course, she pierced a secret thicket, known to her, and having slipped the quiver from her arm, she loosed the bended bow, and softly down upon the velvet turf reclining, pressed her white neck on the quiver while she slept. When Jupiter beheld her, negligent and beautiful, he argued thus, “How can my consort, Juno, learn of this? And yet, if chance should give her knowledge, what care I? Let gain offset the scolding of her tongue!” This said, the god transformed himself and took Diana's form—assumed Diana's dress and imitating her awoke the maid, and spoke in gentle tones, “What mountain slope, O virgin of my train, hath been thy chase?” Which, having heard, Calisto, rose and said, “Hail, goddess! greater than celestial Jove! I would declare it though he heard the words.” Jove heard and smiled, well pleased to be preferred above himself, and kissed her many times, and strained her in his arms, while she began to tell the varied fortunes of her hunt.—But when his ardent love was known to her, she struggled to escape from his embrace: ah, how could she, a tender maid, resist almighty Jove?—Be sure, Saturnia if thou hadst only witnessed her thy heart had shown more pity!—Jupiter on wings, transcendent, sought his glorious heights; but she, in haste departing from that grove, almost forgot her quiver and her bow.

[441] Behold, Diana, with her virgin train, when hunting on the slopes of Maenalus, amidst the pleasures of exciting sport, espied the Nymph and called her, who, afraid that Jove apparelled in disguise deceived, drew backward for a moment, till appeared to her the lovely Nymphs that followed: thus, assured deceit was none, she ventured near. Alas, how difficult to hide disgrace! She could not raise her vision from the ground, nor as the leader of the hunting Nymphs, as was her wont, walk by the goddess' side. Her silence and her blushes were the signs of injured honour. Ah Diana, thou, if thou wert not a virgin, wouldst perceive and pity her unfortunate distress. The Moon's bent horns were rising from their ninth sojourn, when, fainting from Apollo's flames, the goddess of the Chase observed a cool umbrageous grove, from which a murmuring stream ran babbling gently over golden sands. When she approved the spot, lightly she struck her foot against the ripples of the stream, and praising it began; “Far from the gaze of all the curious we may bathe our limbs, and sport in this clear water.” Quickly they undid their garments,—but Calisto hid behind the others, till they knew her state.—Diana in a rage exclaimed, “Away! Thou must not desecrate our sacred springs!” And she was driven thence.

[466] Ere this transpired, observed the consort of the Thunder-God her altered mien; but she for ripening time withheld severe resentment. Now delay was needless for distracted Juno heard Calisto of the god of Heaven had borne a boy called Arcas. Full of jealous rage, her eyes and thoughts enkindled as she cried; “And only this was wanting to complete your wickedness, that you should bear a son and flaunt abroad the infamy of Jove! Unpunished you shall not escape, for I will spoil the beauty that has made you proud and dazzled Jupiter with wanton art.” So saying, by her forehead's tresses seized the goddess on her rival; and she dragged her roughly to the ground. Pleading she raised her suppliant arms and begged for mercy.—While she pled, black hair spread over her white limbs; her hands were lengthened into feet, and claws long-curving tipped them; snarling jaws deformed the mouth that Jove had kissed. And lest her prayers and piteous words might move some listening God, and give remembrance, speech was so denied, that only from her throat came angry growls, now uttered hoarse and threatening. Still remains her understanding, though her body, thus transformed, makes her appear a savage bear.—her sorrows are expressed in many a groan, repeated as she lifts her hands—if we may call them so – repeated as she lifts them towards the stars and skies, ungrateful Jove regarding; but her voice accuses not. Afraid to rest in unfrequented woods, she wandered in the fields that once were hers, around her well-known dwelling. Over crags, in terror, she was driven by the cries of hounds; and many a time she fled in fear, a huntress from the hunters, or she hid from savage animals; forgetting her transformed condition. Changed into a bear, she fled affrighted from the bears that haunt the rugged mountains; and she feared and fled the wolves,—although her father was a wolf.

[496] When thrice five birthdays rounded out the youth of Arcas, offspring of Lycaon's child, he hunted in the forest of his choice; where, hanging with his platted nets the trees of Erymanthian forest, he espied his transformed mother,—but he knew her not; no one had told him of his parentage. Knowing her child, she stood with levelled gaze, amazed and mute as he began approach; but Arcas, frightened at the sight drew back to pierce his mother's breast with wounding spear.—but not permitting it the god of Heaven averted, and removed them from that crime. He, in a mighty wind—through vacant space, upbore them to the dome of starry heaven, and fixed them, Constellations, bright amid the starry host.

[508] Juno on high beheld Calisto crowned with glory—great with rage her bosom heaved. She flew across the sea, to hoary Tethys and to old Oceanus, whom all the Gods revere, and thus to them in answer to their words she made address; “And is it wondered that the Queen of Gods comes hither from ethereal abodes? My rival sits upon the Throne of Heaven: yea, when the wing of Night has darkened let my fair word be deemed of no repute, if you behold not in the height of Heaven those new made stars, now honoured to my shame, conspicuous; fixed in the highest dome of space that circles the utmost axis of the world. Who, then, should hesitate to put affront on Juno? matchless goddess! each offense redounds in benefit! Who dreads her rage? Oh boundless powers! Oh unimagined deeds! My enemy assumes a goddess' form when my decree deprives her human shape;—and thus the guilty rue their chastisement! Now let high Jove to human shape transform this hideous beast, as once before he changed his Io from a heifer.—Let him now divorce his Juno and consort with her, and lead Calisto to his couch, and take that wolf, Lycaon, for a father-in-law! Oh, if an injury to me, your child, may move your pity! drive the Seven Stars from waters crystalline and azure-tint, and your domain debar from those that shine in Heaven, rewarded for Jove's wickedness.—bathe not a concubine in waters pure.”—the Gods of Ocean granted her request.

MEDUSA

2009-07-13T18:10:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

PRIVATE COLLECTION

Ovid, Metamorphoses book IV.

787… Beyond all others she was famed for beauty, and the envious hope of many suitors. Words would fail to tell the glory of her hair, most wonderful of all her charms—A friend declared to me he saw its lovely splendour. Fame declares the Sovereign of the Sea attained her love in chaste Minerva's temple. While enraged she turned her head away and held her shield before her eyes. To punish that great crime minerva changed the Gorgon's splendid hair to serpents horrible. And now to strike her foes with fear, she wears upon her breast those awful vipers—creatures of her rage.

IO AND ARGUS

2009-07-01T14:58:00.002+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses, book I

[567] There is a grove in Thessaly, enclosed on every side with crags, precipitous,—on which a forest grows—and this is called the Vale of Tempe -- through this valley flows the River Peneus, white with foaming waves, that issue from the foot of Pindus, whence with sudden fall up gather steamy clouds that sprinkle mist upon the circling trees, and far away with mighty roar resound. It is the abode, the solitary home, that mighty River loves, where deep in gloom of rocky cavern, he resides and rules the flowing waters and the water nymphs abiding there. All rivers of that land now hasten thither, doubtful to console or flatter Daphne's parent: poplar crowned Sperchios, swift Enipeus and the wild Amphrysos, old Apidanus and Aeas, with all their kindred streams that wandering maze and wearied seek the ocean. Inachus alone is absent, hidden in his cave obscure, deepening his waters with his tears—most wretchedly bewailing, for he deems his daughter Io lost. If she may live or roam a spirit in the nether shades he dares not even guess but dreads.

[588] For Jove not long before had seen her while returning from her father's stream, and said; “O virgin, worthy of immortal Jove, although some happy mortal's chosen bride,—behold these shades of overhanging trees, and seek their cool recesses while the sun is glowing in the height of middle skies—” and as he spoke he pointed out the groves—“But should the dens of wild beasts frighten you, with safety you may enter the deep woods, conducted by a God—not with a God of small repute, but in the care of him who holds the heavenly scepter in his hand and fulminates the trackless thunder bolts.—forsake me not! ” For while he spoke she fled, and swiftly left behind the pasture fields of Lerna, and Lyrcea's arbours, where the trees are planted thickly. But the God called forth a heavy shadow which involved the wide extended earth, and stopped her flight and ravished in that cloud her chastity.

[601] Meanwhile, the goddess Juno gazing down on earth's expanse, with wonder saw the clouds as dark as night enfold those middle fields while day was bright above. She was convinced the clouds were none composed of river mist nor raised from marshy fens. Suspicious now, from oft detected amours of her spouse, she glanced around to find her absent lord, and quite convinced that he was far from heaven, she thus exclaimed; “This cloud deceives my mind, or Jove has wronged me.” From the dome of heaven she glided down and stood upon the earth, and bade the clouds recede. But Jove had known the coming of his queen. He had transformed the lovely Io, so that she appeared a milk white heifer—formed so beautiful and fair that envious Juno gazed on her. She queried: “Whose? what herd? what pasture fields?” As if she guessed no knowledge of the truth. And Jupiter, false hearted, said the cow was earth begotten, for he feared his queen might make inquiry of the owner's name. Juno implored the heifer as a gift.—what then was left the Father of the Gods? 'Twould be a cruel thing to sacrifice his own beloved to a rival's wrath. Although refusal must imply his guilt the shame and love of her almost prevailed; but if a present of such little worth were now denied the sharer of his couch, the partner of his birth, 'twould prove indeed the earth born heifer other than she seemed—and so he gave his mistress up to her.

[622] Juno regardful of Jove's cunning art, lest he might change her to her human form, gave the unhappy heifer to the charge of Argus, Aristorides, whose head was circled with a hundred glowing eyes; of which but two did slumber in their turn whilst all the others kept on watch and guard. Whichever way he stood his gaze was fixed on Io—even if he turned away his watchful eyes on Io still remained. He let her feed by day; but when the sun was under the deep world he shut her up, and tied a rope around her tender neck. She fed upon green leaves and bitter herbs and on the cold ground slept—too often bare, she could not rest upon a cushioned couch. She drank the troubled waters. Hoping aid she tried to stretch imploring arms to Argus, but all in vain for now no arms remained; the sound of bellowing was all she heard, and she was frightened with her proper voice. Where former days she loved to roam and sport, she wandered by the banks of Inachus: there imaged in the stream she saw her horns and, startled, turned and fled. And Inachus and all her sister Naiads knew her not, although she followed them, they knew her not, although she suffered them to touch her sides and praise her. When the ancient Inachus gathered sweet herbs and offered them to her, she licked his hands, kissing her father's palms, nor could she more restrain her falling tears. If only words as well as tears would flow, she might implore his aid and tell her name and all her sad misfortune; but, instead, she traced in dust the letters of her name with cloven hoof; and thus her sad estate was known.

[650] “Ah wretched me! ” her father cried; and as he clung around her horns and neck repeated while she groaned, “Ah wretched me! Art thou my daughter sought in every clime? When lost I could not grieve for thee as now that thou art found; thy sighs instead of words heave up from thy deep breast, thy longings give me answer. I prepared the nuptial torch and bridal chamber, in my ignorance, since my first hope was for a son in law; and then I dreamed of children from the match: but now the herd may furnish thee a mate, and all thy issue of the herd must be. Oh that a righteous death would end my grief!—it is a dreadful thing to be a God! Behold the lethal gate of death is shut against me, and my growing grief must last throughout eternity.” While thus he moaned came starry Argus there, and Io bore from her lamenting father. Thence he led his charge to other pastures; and removed from her, upon a lofty mountain sat, whence he could always watch her, undisturbed.

[668] The sovereign god no longer could endure to witness Io's woes. He called his son, whom Maia brightest of the Pleiades brought forth, and bade him slay the star eyed guard, argus. He seized his sleep compelling wand and fastened waving wings on his swift feet, and deftly fixed his brimmed hat on his head:—lo, Mercury, the favoured son of Jove, descending to the earth from heaven's plains, put off his cap and wings,—though still retained his wand with which he drove through pathless wilds some stray she goats, and as a shepherd fared, piping on oaten reeds melodious tunes. Argus, delighted with the charming sound of this new art began; “Whoever thou art, sit with me on this stone beneath the trees in cooling shade, whilst browse the tended flock abundant herbs; for thou canst see the shade is fit for shepherds.”

[682] Wherefore, Mercury sat down beside the keeper and conversed of various things—passing the laggard hours.—then soothly piped he on the joined reeds to lull those ever watchful eyes asleep; but Argus strove his languor to subdue, and though some drowsy eyes might slumber, still were some that vigil kept. Again he spoke, (for the pipes were yet a recent art) “I pray thee tell what chance discovered these.”

[712] … now perceiving Argus' eyes were dimmed in languorous doze, he hushed his voice and touched the drooping eyelids with his magic wand, compelling slumber. Then without delay he struck the sleeper with his crescent sword, where neck and head unite, and hurled his head, blood dripping, down the rocks and rugged cliff. Low lies Argus: dark is the light of all his hundred eyes, his many orbed lights extinguished in the universal gloom that night surrounds; but Saturn's daughter spread their glister on the feathers of her bird, emblazoning its tail with starry gems.

[724] Juno made haste, inflamed with towering rage, to vent her wrath on Io; and she raised in thought and vision of the Grecian girl a dreadful Fury. Stings invisible, and pitiless, she planted in her breast, and drove her wandering throughout the globe. The utmost limit of her laboured way, O Nile, thou didst remain. Which, having reached, and placed her tired knees on that river's edge, she laid her there, and as she raised her neck looked upward to the stars, and groaned and wept and mournfully bellowed: trying thus to plead, by all the means she had, that Jupiter might end her miseries. Repentant Jove embraced his consort, and entreated her to end the punishment: “Fear not,” he said, “For she shall trouble thee no more.” He spoke, and called on bitter Styx to hear his oath.

[738] And now imperial Juno, pacified, permitted Io to resume her form,—at once the hair fell from her snowy sides; the horns absorbed, her dilate orbs decreased; the opening of her jaws contracted; hands appeared and shoulders; and each transformed hoof became five nails. And every mark or form that gave the semblance of a heifer changed, except her fair white skin; and the glad Nymph was raised erect and stood upon her feet. But long the very thought of speech, that she might bellow as a heifer, filled her mind with terror, till the words so long forgot for some sufficient cause were tried once more.

[747] And since that time, the linen wearing throng of Egypt have adored her as a God; for they believe the seed of Jove prevailed; and when her time was due she bore to him a son called Epaphus; who also dwells in temples with his mother in that land. Now Phaethon, whose father was the Sun, was equal to his rival, Epaphus, in mind and years; and he was glad to boast of wonders, nor would yield to Epaphus for pride of Phoebus, his reputed sire. Unable to endure it, Io's son thus mocked him; “Poor, demented fellow, what will you not credit if your mother speaks, you are so puffed up with the fond conceit of your imagined sire, the Lord of Day.”

ACTEON

2009-07-01T14:44:00.001+02:00

oil on canvas (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses book III.

[155] There is a valley called Gargaphia; sacred to Diana, dense with pine trees and the pointed cypress, where, deep in the woods that fringed the valley's edge, was hollowed in frail sandstone and the soft white pumice of the hills an arch, so true it seemed the art of man; for Nature's touch ingenious had so fairly wrought the stone, making the entrance of a grotto cool. Upon the right a limpid fountain ran, and babbled, as its lucid channel spread into a clear pool edged with tender grass. Here, when a-wearied with exciting sport, the Sylvan goddess loved to come and bathe her virgin beauty in the crystal pool. After Diana entered with her nymphs, she gave her javelin, quiver and her bow to one accustomed to the care of arms; she gave her mantle to another nymph who stood near by her as she took it off; two others loosed the sandals from her feet; but Crocale, the daughter of Ismenus, more skillful than her sisters, gathered up the goddess' scattered tresses in a knot;—her own were loosely wantoned on the breeze. Then in their ample urns dipt up the wave and poured it forth, the cloud-nymph Nephele, the nymph of crystal pools called Hyale, the rain-drop Rhanis, Psecas of the dews, and Phyale the guardian of their urns. And while they bathed Diana in their streams, Actaeon, wandering through the unknown woods, entered the precincts of that sacred grove; with steps uncertain wandered he as fate directed, for his sport must wait till morn.—soon as he entered where the clear springs welled or trickled from the grotto's walls, the nymphs, now ready for the bath, beheld the man, smote on their breasts, and made the woods resound, suddenly shrieking. Quickly gathered they to shield Diana with their naked forms, but she stood head and shoulders taller than her guards.—as clouds bright-tinted by the slanting sun, or purple-dyed Aurora, so appeared Diana's countenance when she was seen.

[187] Oh, how she wished her arrows were at hand! But only having water, this she took and dashed it on his manly countenance, and sprinkled with the avenging stream his hair, and said these words, presage of future woe; “Go tell it, if your tongue can tell the tale, your bold eyes saw me stripped of all my robes.” No more she threatened, but she fixed the horns of a great stag firm on his sprinkled brows; she lengthened out his neck; she made his ears sharp at the top; she changed his hands and feet; made long legs of his arms, and covered him with dappled hair—his courage turned to fear. The brave son of Autonoe took to flight, and marveled that he sped so swiftly on.—He saw his horns reflected in a stream and would have said, “Ah, wretched me!” but now he had no voice, and he could only groan: large tears ran trickling down his face, transformed in every feature.—Yet, as clear remained his understanding, and he wondered what he should attempt to do: should he return to his ancestral palace, or plunge deep in vast vacuities of forest wilds? Fear made him hesitate to trust the woods, and shame deterred him from his homeward way.

[206] While doubting thus his dogs espied him there: first Blackfoot and the sharp nosed Tracer raised the signal: Tracer of the Gnossian breed, and Blackfoot of the Spartan: swift as wind the others followed. Glutton, Quicksight, Surefoot, three dogs of Arcady; then valiant Killbuck, Tempest, fierce Hunter, and the rapid Wingfoot; sharp-scented Chaser, and Woodranger wounded so lately by a wild boar; savage Wildwood, the wolf-begot with Shepherdess the cow-dog; and ravenous Harpy followed by her twin whelps; and thin-girt Ladon chosen from Sicyonia; racer and Barker, brindled Spot and Tiger; sturdy old Stout and white haired Blanche and black Smut lusty big Lacon, trusty Storm and Quickfoot; active young Wolfet and her Cyprian brother black headed Snap, blazed with a patch of white hair from forehead to his muzzle; swarthy Blackcoat and shaggy Bristle, Towser and Wildtooth, his sire of Dicte and his dam of Lacon; and yelping Babbler: these and others, more than patience leads us to recount or name. All eager for their prey the pack surmount rocks, cliffs and crags, precipitous—where paths are steep, where roads are none. He flies by routes so oft pursued but now, alas, his flight is from his own!—He would have cried, “Behold your master!—It is I—Actaeon!” Words refused his will. The yelping pack pressed on. First Blackmane seized and tore his master's back, Savage the next, then Rover's teeth were clinched deep in his shoulder.—These, though tardy out, cut through a by-path and arriving first clung to their master till the pack came up. The whole pack fastened on their master's flesh till place was none for others. Groaning he made frightful sounds that not the human voice could utter nor the stag; and filled the hills with dismal moans; and as a suppliant fell down to the ground upon his trembling knees; and turned his stricken eyes on his own dogs, entreating them to spare him from their fangs.

[242] But his companions, witless of his plight, urged on the swift pack with their hunting cries. They sought Actaeon and they vainly called, “Actaeon! Hi! Actaeon!” just as though he was away from them. Each time they called he turned his head. And when they chided him, whose indolence denied the joys of sport, how much he wished an indolent desire had haply held him from his ravenous pack. Oh, how much;better 'tis to see the hunt, and the fierce dogs, than feel their savage deeds! They gathered round him, and they fixed their snouts deep in his flesh: tore him to pieces, he whose features only as a stag appeared.—'Tis said Diana's fury raged with none abatement till the torn flesh ceased to live.

LYCAON

2009-07-01T14:00:00.002+02:00

Olio su tela (50 x 100 cm)

€ 700,00

Ovid, Metamorphoses, book I

[163] When, from his throne supreme, the Son of Saturn viewed their deeds, he deeply groaned: and calling to his mind the loathsome feast Lycaon had prepared, a recent deed not common to report, his soul conceived great anger—worthy Jove—and he convened a council. No delay detained the chosen Gods.

[168] When skies are clear a path is well defined on high, which men, because so white, have named the Milky Way. It makes a passage for the deities and leads to mansions of the Thunder God, to Jove's imperial home. On either side of its wide way the noble Gods are seen, inferior Gods in other parts abide, but there the potent and renowned of Heaven have fixed their homes.—It is a glorious place, our most audacious verse might designate the “Palace of High Heaven.”

[177] When the Gods were seated, therefore, in its marble halls the King of all above the throng sat high, and leaning on his ivory scepter, thrice, and once again he shook his awful locks, wherewith he moved the earth, and seas and stars,— and thus indignantly began to speak: “The time when serpent footed giants strove to fix their hundred arms on captive Heaven, not more than this event could cause alarm for my dominion of the universe. Although it was a savage enemy, yet warred we with a single source derived of one. Now must I utterly destroy this mortal race wherever Nereus roars around the world. Yea, by the Infernal Streams that glide through Stygian groves beneath the world, I swear it. Every method has been tried. The knife must cut immedicable wounds, lest maladies infect untainted parts. Beneath my sway are demi gods and fauns, nymphs, rustic deities, sylvans of the hills, satyrs;—all these, unworthy Heaven's abodes, we should at least permit to dwell on earth which we to them bequeathed. What think ye, Gods, is safety theirs when I, your sovereign lord, the Thunder-bolt Controller, am ensnared by fierce Lycaon?”

[199] Ardent in their wrath, the astonished Gods demand revenge overtake this miscreant; he who dared commit such crimes. 'Twas even thus when raged that impious band to blot the Roman name in sacred blood of Caesar, sudden apprehensive fears of ruin absolute astonished man, and all the world convulsed. Nor is the love thy people bear to thee, Augustus, less than these displayed to Jupiter whose voice and gesture all the murmuring host restrained: and as indignant clamour ceased, suppressed by regnant majesty, Jove once again broke the deep silence with imperial words: “Dismiss your cares; he paid the penalty however all the crime and punishment now learn from this:—An infamous report of this unholy age had reached my ears, and wishing it were false, I sloped my course from high Olympus, and—although a God—disguised in human form I viewed the world. It would delay us to recount the crimes unnumbered, for reports were less than truth.

[216] “I traversed Maenalus where fearful dens abound, over Lycaeus, wintry slopes of pine tree groves, across Cyllene steep; and as the twilight warned of night's approach, I stopped in that Arcadian tyrant's realms and entered his inhospitable home:—and when I showed his people that a God had come, the lowly prayed and worshiped me, but this Lycaon mocked their pious vows and scoffing said; ‘A fair experiment will prove the truth if this be god or man.’ and he prepared to slay me in the night,—to end my slumbers in the sleep of death. So made he merry with his impious proof; but not content with this he cut the throat of a Molossian hostage sent to him, and partly softened his still quivering limbs in boiling water, partly roasted them on fires that burned beneath. And when this flesh was served to me on tables, I destroyed his dwelling and his worthless Household Gods, with thunder bolts avenging. Terror struck he took to flight, and on the silent plains is howling in his vain attempts to speak; he raves and rages and his greedy jaws, desiring their accustomed slaughter, turn against the sheep – still eager for their blood. His vesture separates in shaggy hair, his arms are changed to legs; and as a wolf he has the same grey locks, the same hard face, the same bright eyes, the same ferocious look.