Archive for the 'The Classical World (redux)' Category

Pygmalion

Posted in Art, Teaching, The Classical World (redux) on March 9th, 2007 by Lisa

The Story of Pygmalion and the Statue

Pygmalion loathing their lascivious life,
Abhorr’d all womankind, but most a wife:
So single chose to live, and shunn’d to wed,
Well pleas’d to want a consort of his bed.
Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill,
In sculpture exercis’d his happy skill;

Delvaux, Pygmalion 20th c

Delvaux, Pygmalion 20th c

And carv’d in iv’ry such a maid, so fair,
As Nature could not with his art compare,
Were she to work; but in her own defence
Must take her pattern here, and copy hence.
Pleas’d with his idol, he commends, admires,
Adores; and last, the thing ador’d, desires.
A very virgin in her face was seen,
And had she mov’d, a living maid had been:

Gerome, Pygmalion and Galatea 19th c

Gerome, Pygmalion and Galatea 19th c

One wou’d have thought she cou’d have stirr’d, but strove
With modesty, and was asham’d to move.
Art hid with art, so well perform’d the cheat,
It caught the carver with his own deceit:
He knows ’tis madness, yet he must adore,
And still the more he knows it, loves the more:

Gerome, Pygmalion and Galatea 19th c

Gerome, another version of Pygmalion and Galatea

The flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft,
Which feels so smooth, that he believes it soft.
Fir’d with this thought, at once he strain’d the breast,
And on the lips a burning kiss impress’d.
‘Tis true, the harden’d breast resists the gripe,
And the cold lips return a kiss unripe:

Falconet, Pygmalion and Galatea

Falconet, Pygmalion and Galatea 17th c

But when, retiring back, he look’d again,
To think it iv’ry, was a thought too mean:
So wou’d believe she kiss’d, and courting more,
Again embrac’d her naked body o’er; …

Bronzino, Pygmalion 16th c

Bronzino, Pygmalion 16th c

Read the rest of Ovid’s poem here.

Narcissus

Posted in Art, Teaching, The Classical World (redux) on March 9th, 2007 by Lisa

Waterhouse, Echo and Narcissus

Waterhouse, Echo and Narcisssus 19th c

Excerpt from Ted Hughes’ “Narcissus”

… Weary with hunting and the hot sun
Narcissus found this pool.
Gratefully he stretched out full length,
To cup his hands in the clear cold
And to drink. But as he drank
A strange new thirst, a craving, unfamiliar,
Entered his body with the water,
And entered his eyes
With the reflection in the limpid mirror.
He could not believe the beauty
Of those eyes that gazed into his own.
As the taste of water flooded him
So did love. So he lay, mistaking
That picture of himself on the meniscus
For the stranger who could make him happy.

Caravaggio, Narcissus

Caravaggio, Narcissus 17th c

He lay, like a fallen garden statue,
Gaze fixed on his image in the water,
Comparing it to Bacchus or Apollo,
Falling deeper and deeper in love
With what so many had loved so hopelessly.
Not recognising himself
He wanted only himself.
He had chosen from all the faces he had ever seen
Only his own. He was himself
The torturer who now began his torture. …

Narcissus

Narcissus after the metamorphosis

Read the complete poem here.

On contemporary narcissism.

Ovid’s Echo and Narcissus.

Musings by an “antediluvian, bibliomaniac, and curmudgeon”.

Posted in Art, The Classical World (redux), Time on February 24th, 2007 by Lisa

From Michael Gilleland:

A few years ago I tried my hand at translating a few aphorisms from Nicolás Gómez Dávila’s Escolios a un Texto Implicito (1977). Unfortunately I didn’t transcribe the original Spanish. Here are a few of my translations:

The imagination is the only place in the universe where it is possible to live. (II, 132)

A cultivated soul is one where the din of the living does not drown out the music of the dead. (II, 195)

The modern world seems invincible. Like the extinct dinosaurs. (II, 226)

To be unaware of the putrefaction of the modern world is a symptom of contagion by it. (II, 451)

Guercino, Et in Arcadia Ego

Guercino, Et in Arcadia Ego 1618

Advice To a Self-Tormentor
Palladas (Greek Anthology 10.78, tr. W.R. Paton):

Cast away complaint and be not troubled, for how brief is the time thou dwellest here compared with all the life that follows this! Ere thou breedest worms and art cast into the tomb torment not thy soul, as if it were damned while thou still livest.

Read more here.

Poussin, Et in Arcadia Ego

Poussin, Et in Arcadia Ego 1637

‘Et in Arcadia ego’ is a phrase coined by Virgil and used in 17th century Italy expressing, in an elliptical way, the humanistic sentiment: Even in Arcadia I (i.e. Death) am to be found. That is to say, even the escapist, pastoral world of Arcady is no refuge from death. The words feature in paintings from that time inscribed on monumental stonework, especially a tomb, which stands in rural surroundings.

The earliest representation of the theme by Guercino (Galleria Corsini, Rome) shows two shepherds coming unexpectedly upon a skull – the typical memento mori – that lies on a piece of fallen masonry bearing the words ‘Et in Arcadia ego’. In the version by Poussin the skull has disappeared, and the shepherds are trying to decipher the tomb’s inscription.

Source: Web Gallery of Art

Amazonia …

Posted in Art, Teaching, The Classical World (redux) on February 24th, 2007 by Lisa

The legendary female warriors, the Amazons, often mentioned in Homer’s “Iliad” and almost all documents written by ancient Greek writers, are known throughout the world as powerful symbols of female virility and the ancient goddess sects. The Black Sea coastal city of Samsun, known as the city where Mustafa Kemal Atatürk began the Turkey’s 1919 War of Independence, also happens to be the home of the extraordinary Amazons, who were a nucleus of fear and fascination in ancient texts.

Herakles Fighting the Amazon Queen

Herakles Fighting the Amazon Queen c 560 bce

Work has begun in Samsun to highlight the Amazons as yet another of Turkey’s ancient cultural assets. The Samsun Metropolitan Municipality plans to construct a miniature city reflecting the time of the Amazons in the city’s Batı Park, reported the Anatolia news agency.

The Samsun Metropolitan Municipality Governor Kenan Şara said they would be building a miniature Amazon city on a 40,000 square meter area in Batı Park. He said they were currently working on the project and that a 12-meter tall Amazon statue that will be erected in the park was under construction.

Read more here.

For more on the Amazons, click here.

What if?

Posted in Art, The Classical World (redux), Time on February 24th, 2007 by Lisa

Fortuna opes auferre, non animum, potest. (Seneca, Medea, 176)

Pron = for-TOO-nah OH-pehs ow-FER-ray nohn AH-nih-moom POH-test.

Fortune is able to take one’s wealth away, but not one’s character.

Bellini, Perseverance and Fortune

Bellini, Perseverance and Fortune

Comment by Bob Patrick:

“This is going to sound, perhaps, a bit morbid. I have a trip to Italy coming up with some students, and so once again, I will put my body (life, future, etc) into a large hunk of metal and allow it to be hurled across the Atlantic ocean. And so I will spend some time considering “what if . . .”

It’s a little morbid, but it’s also real. What if . . . something happens to me and I don’t make it? Fortune can take really everything away from me that I touch every day as my life. If that happens, can I still be really who I am? The ultimate example of that is: could I go down in a plane crash and be my real self?

I spent some time while in seminary going every week to visit a Trappist monk at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, GA. I read his obituary in the paper yesterday. He was 85. He once told me that Trappist monks have this exercise called the “dying daily” exercise. They lie down on their bed and envision themselves dead.

Mei, Allegory of Fortune

Mei, Allegory of Fortune

Morbid. But, it’s a way of letting go of all the stuff. My old friend, the monk, finally made his practice real. He laid down one last time, and did what he had practiced. Eventually, we all do.

This is really not morbid. It’s life. We have today. As I see it now, we live our best life today, and then we lay it down. Entirely.

Let it go. All of it. And if we wake tomorrow, we do that again.

When the last day comes, whenever it is, we will have lived some really full, wonderful days. We will have lived some really difficult, trying days. Even the most ordinary ones will have been really wonderful. Why? Because we lived out of who we really are.”

The Paintings:

The painting above, Perseverance and Fortune, is an unusual theme for Bellini. The panels represent respectively: Lust tempting the virtuous man or Perseverance (Bacchus who from a chariot offers a plate of fruit to a warrior) and fickle Fortune (the woman on an unstable boat holding a sphere).

The second painting, by Mei, is connected with a seventeenth-century documentary reference to a picture of Fortune Subdued by Virtue. The painting treats the stoic theme of the disdain of wealth, a virtue that places the philosopher above the vicissitudes of Fortune.

Caravaggio, The Fortune Teller

Caravaggio, The Fortune Teller

In Caravaggio’s painting a foppishly dressed young man, a milksop with no experience of life, gives his right hand to a young girl whose expression is difficult to define, in order to have his future read. His ideas about his future are effectively influenced by the astute young gypsy girl, whose gentle caress in tracing the lines of his hand captivates the handsome young fool so completely that he fails to notice his ring being drawn from his finger.

Source: Web Gallery of Art

Nero’s Golden Palace Reopens

Posted in The Classical World (redux) on February 8th, 2007 by Lisa

Domus Aurea

Journalists take part in a press tour inside Roman emperor Nero’s Golden Palace in Rome, Wednesday, Jan. 31, 2007. The sumptuous residence, also known by its Latin name, Domus Aurea, will partially reopen to visitors next week, this time also offering rare insight into archaeologists’ efforts to preserve the 1st-century imperial residence from decay and humidity. (AP Photo /Pier Paolo Cito)

Domus Aurea 2

I had the opportunity of seeing the Palace in 2000 – when visiting Rome with my friend Mary Lee, we had a pretty good idea of where the palace was – in the park opposite the Colosseum. However, we spent 2 hours wandering around the park, asking several groups of people in fractured Italian if they knew where Nero’s Golden Palace was and none of them had any idea. Turned out that they’d literally been standing on top of it. We finally found the entrance and the wait was definitely worth it.

Stadium of the Statues, Rome

Posted in Art, Male Nude, Teaching, The Classical World (redux) on January 13th, 2007 by webmaster

Realist art as propaganda.

Statue

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries repressive political regimes often sponsored social realist art to propagate their own political agendas, demonising as deviant any work that did not fit into the realist genre.

 Stadio dei Marmi

These sculptures are exemplary examples of fascist propaganda, commissioned by the Italian dictator Mussolini to celebrate his reactionary political ideology. Carrying the celebration of heroic masculinity pioneered by the Greeks to an extreme, Enrico Del Debbio’s 25 foot fascist athletes extoll the glories of war, violence and military power in images that are hyper-real.

Stadio dei Marmi

photo George Grabarczyk

To see more, click here.

Classical Sculpture

Posted in Art, Male Nude, The Classical World (redux) on January 12th, 2007 by Lisa

Reclining nude

Empire Falls

Posted in Teaching, The Classical World (redux) on January 12th, 2007 by Lisa

by Niall Ferguson Vanity Fair October 2006

Bush

The decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. Prosperity ripened the principle of decay; the causes of destruction multiplied with the extent of conquest. —Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, “General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the West.”

This has not been a decline in the sense that Spengler envisaged: a kind of corrosive metropolitan ennui. Rather, it has been an unexpected but inexorable military decline. It has been a scarcely perceptible economic decline. It has been a subtle but unmistakable cultural decline. Above all, it has been a creeping demographic decline. In short, it has been a decline in precisely the sense that Gibbon understood the decline of Rome’s empire.

Cole Destruction 1836

Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: Destruction 1836

According to Gibbon, Rome fell through a combination of external overreach, internal corruption, religious transformation, and barbarian invasion. That the United States—and, perhaps even more, the European Union—might have something to learn from his account is too seldom acknowledged, perhaps because Americans and Europeans like to pretend that their polities today are something more exalted than empires. But suppose for a moment (as the Georgetown University historian Charles Kupchan has suggested in The End of the American Era) that Washington really is the Rome of our time, while Brussels, the headquarters of the European Union, is Byzantium, the city transformed in the fourth century into the second imperial capital, Constantinople. Like the later Roman Empire, the West today has its Western and Eastern halves, though they are separated by the Atlantic rather than the Adriatic. And that is not the only thing we have in common with our Roman predecessors of a millennium and a half ago. …

Gladiators

Gladiators

What had gone wrong? The answer sheds revealing light on some of the problems the United States currently faces in the same troubled region. A recurrent theme of Gibbon’s work is that the Romans gradually lost “the animating health and vigour” which had made them militarily invincible in the glory days of Julian’s predecessor Trajan. They had lost their discipline. They started complaining about the weight of their armor. In a word, they had gone soft. At the same time, like most armies, their fighting effectiveness diminished the farther they were from home. … To put it bluntly, the United States has a chronic manpower deficit, which means it cannot put enough boots on the ground to maintain law and order in conquered territory.

[Economic malaise: debt]

Cultural malaise: While “the corrupt and opulent nobles of Rome gratified every vice that could be collected from the mighty conflux of nations and manners,” Gibbon wrote, “the most lively and splendid amusement of the idle multitude depended on the frequent exhibition of public games and spectacles.” Orgies and circuses are not precisely the favorite pastimes of Western society today. But if you substitute pornography and NASCAR, the parallel is not so far-fetched.

Romans of the Decadence Couture 1847

Couture, Romans of the Decadence 1847

Gibbon’s argument against Roman “luxury” was in part that it sapped the empire’s martial strength. Here, too, there is a striking analogy. For our culture’s sedentary character—our strong preference for watching over doing, for virtual over real action—seems closely correlated to our changing physical shape. Gibbon’s Romans became metaphorical pygmies. We, by contrast, are being transformed into actual giants. We are certainly taller on average than past generations, a consequence of improvements in nutrition. But we are also wider …

Gibbon called the decline and fall of the Roman Empire “the greatest, perhaps, and most awful scene in the history of mankind.” Could a still more awful scene be unfolding in the form of the West’s decline and fall? For Gibbon, Rome’s decline was the result of military overstretch, inner decadence, religious conversion, and barbarian invasion. To my mind, all of these are operating today to undermine what remains of Western dominance in the world. If the United States suffers mainly from the first and second, the European Union seems even more afflicted by the third and fourth.

A hundred years ago, as we have seen, the West could justly claim to rule the world. After a century during which one Western empire after another has declined and fallen, that can no longer credibly be claimed. Empires, of course, take time to decline and fall. Gibbon begins his narrative in A.D. 96; he ends it in 1430, more than a millennium later. Yet there can be no question that the pace of imperial descent has quickened in modern times. …

Cole Desolation 1804

Cole, The Course of Empire: Desolation 1836

The empires created in the 20th century, on the other hand, were all of comparatively short duration. The Bolsheviks’ Soviet Union (1922–91) lasted less than 70 years, a meager record indeed, though one not yet equaled by the People’s Republic of China, established in 1949. Japan’s colonial empire, which can be dated from the conquest of Taiwan in 1895, lasted barely 50. Most ephemeral of all modern empires was the so-called Third Reich of Adolf Hitler, which did not extend beyond its predecessor’s borders before 1938 and had retreated within them by the end of 1944. The remaining empires of the West are young by Roman standards. But by the standards of modern times, the United States—at 230 years—is quite long in the tooth. The day when the Capitol in Washington, D.C., will be reduced to a picturesque ruin may seem to us infinitely remote. History—including the greatest historian of them all, Edward Gibbon—suggests that it may come sooner than we think.

Destroyer of Worlds

Read the entire article here.

The Slate Book Club on American Power, Past and Present.

See also Low Concept on the G.W. Bush Severance Package – How much would it take to make him go away? 

And an interesting article from 2003 in the Guardian Unlimited on American Un-Americanism.

 

Thomas Axworthy on Political Leadership

Posted in The Classical World (redux) on December 3rd, 2006 by webmaster

Cat with Helmet

Having just taught Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War this past term, I found this reference to it interesting:

Who’s in charge here?
As the Liberal Party selects its leader, THOMAS AXWORTHY ponders the qualities they might be looking for

From the Globe and Mail

‘Where have all the Leaders Gone?” is the title of a recent lecture that Mary Lou Finlay, the respected former host of CBC Radio’s As it Happens, delivered to the Centre for the Study of Democracy at Queen’s University. It is a question that many Canadians have been asking.

We do know where several aspiring leaders are going — to Montreal, hoping to become the next leader of the Liberal Party. Whoever wins that contest may not have much time for reading, but there are three classics that define leadership’s potential to do good, and also the likelihood that temptations will turn leaders into monsters.

Eager and ambitious leaders should start by reading one of the first histories ever written, and still the best, The History of the Peloponnesian War (available in many editions), by Thucydides of Athens (421-399 BC). Thucydides, a general in the Peloponnesian War, raised the events he knew intimately to a universal plane. His analyses of human nature and the action-reaction dynamic of international relations have never been bettered.

The war between Athens and Sparta, he saw, was not due to any specific incident: “The real though unavowed cause I believe to have been the growth of the Athenian power, which terrified the Spartans and forced them into war.” Today the United States, like Sparta the undisputed military superpower, looks very warily at the rising power of China. It was ever thus, Thucydides would say.

But as well as being a primer on international relations, The History of the Peloponnesian War is the story of decision-makers under stress. In his contrasting portraits of Pericles and the demagogue Cleon, Thucydides dissects the human condition and exposes the forces that move political men.

To Thucydides, Pericles was a successful visionary (elected 16 times; Liberals, take note): “The reason for this,” Thucydides writes, “was that Pericles, because of his position, his intelligence, and his known integrity, could respect the liberty of the people and at the same time hold them in check. It was he who led them, rather than they who led him.” The first rule of leadership is to stand for something and to make your purposes clear. Pericles’s mission was to make democratic Athens the “school of Hellas.”

Cleon, however, was in the game for ego-gratification. A demagogue, he rose to prominence after Pericles’s death and persuaded Athens to reject a favourable peace. He did so, Thucydides writes, because “he thought that once there was peace his corruption would be more obvious and his false accusations less credible.” Cleon was a brute who persuaded the Athenian Assembly to slaughter all the men of Mytilene (an order rescinded the next day). Cleon admonished the Assembly in that debate: “What you do not realize, is that your empire is a tyranny exercised over subjects who do not like it.”

[...]

Character, commitment and communication are the leadership qualities emphasized in these three classics. Despite the vicissitudes of politics, whether in ancient Athens or modern Louisiana, self-government is still a noble idea, and we need leaders committed to it. Pericles had it right when he said in his great funeral oration: “When a citizen is in any way distinguished, he is preferred to the public service, not as a matter of privilege, but as the reward of merit.”