ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 24

 Week of Creativity

24th of December - Peace on Earth

FIAT PAX

Winter Season's Greetings to all of you,

and may "Peace on Earth" not be seasonal,

but an evergreen wish for the whole year!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 23

 Week of Creativity

23rd of December - Let your Reads Take Wing

Put your heart into literature

as you read

and you will feel

the death of your beloved characters (Enjolras, Grantaire, and company; Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred Weasley...)

the loves of your beloved characters (Othello and Desdemona, Marius and Cosette, Enjolras and Grantaire, Ron and Hermione...)

Their first heroics (with guns, words, or patroni...)

Their hearts shall be yours to keep.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 22

 Week of Creativity

22nd of December - Hermes and Argus

How now, white cow?

I know you have the white cow

and you keep always a watchful eye on her...

Now ain't that dull, so say!

I have yarns and songs galore to fill your day!

Let me sit down and relax and tell you something...

(And once I have sung you to sleep,

your head shall roll

and the white cow shall be free!)

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 21

 Week of Creativity

21st of December - The Dreams of Reason Spawn Monsters

Have you ever put your reason to sleep,

letting strong drink or other substances

usurp her rightful throne?

If that is so, think of all the monsters

and all the outrageous visions

that unfold before your eyes,

until banished reason claims 

her rightful throne!

The BEST of life is but intoxication,

it lets us come closer to chaos

and makes us dance with the Universe!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 18

 Week of Creativity

18th of December - Light, Love, Life

I come with three blessings:

Light, Love, Life.

With three blessings I come:

Love, Life, Light.

With three blessings, Yours Truly:

Life, Light, Love.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR

 Week of Power

17th of December - Midshipman's Ambition

Dearest Lady Winifred Sudbury:

your son, Midshipman Arthur Sudbury

on board HMS Venus,

was sadly killed in action

 by the German torpedo that sank that craft.

He died, though young and fresh,

for Crown and Country...

Everytime Mum took me to the Museum

I always stared aghast at Lord Nelson,

whose feats I also eagerly read.

Now I see I am meant to share his fate,

dying on deck...

Even though his death came from above,

and mine from below...

Yet I am only a paltry Midshipman:

I shall never be a war hero...

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 15

 Week of Power

15th of December - Christina of Sweden

Crowned at the tender age of six

on too hard a throne

with too heavy a crown

for your little golden head full of restlessness,

passionate

about reading

about learning

about riding astride your horse

about swimming without any clothes on

about enjoying

your freedom,

heir apparent in spite of yourself...

you don't want to be chained to the throne,

you cast off your crown, and spread your wings,

and take flight without looking back!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 14

 Week of Power

14th of December - Thor

Always in battle against the powers of darkness:

trolls, jötnar, werewolves, iron witches...

My billy goats, Gnasher and Grinder,

carry my sleigh or chariot at breakneck speed.

And my hammer Mjölnir, gift of Loki,

after striking the enemy dead,

always returns to my right hand

like a boomerang.

Yet there is a worthy opponent for me:

the Midgard Serpent, 

that encompasses Earth's all oceans.

I have already fought the Serpent twice:

first I tried to lift it as a tabby cat,

then it got my fish hook in its throat.

The third time will be at Ragnarök,

the end of times.

Then my Mjölnir will sure crack its skull.

But not without the Serpent's fangs piercing my chest,

filling my bloodstream with lethal venom.

I guess, since both of us die,

you can call it a draw.

I am not afraid of my destiny.

My wife Siv has had three lovely, strong children:

Modi, Trude, and Magni,

all three the heirs to the hammer Mjölnir

and to the war on darkness on the new Earth.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 13

 Week of Power

Day 13 - the Weird Sisters

We are the Fates - the Norns - the Zoryas

past - present - future

maiden - mother - crone

spinner - weaver - cutter

we raise kings - we guide kings - we dethrone kings

The wheel of Fortune whirs and turns,

the loom of Fate clackety-clacks,

the scissors of Death cut all threads.

Hail my lord, the once and future King! 

(Though the higher he rises, the louder his fall;

he is just a human, with feet of clay!)

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 12

 Week of Power

12th of December - The Spinners (Arachne and Athena)

Everytime I see you use your webs

to catch small prey insects,

I think you as a human girl had aimed for bigger prey,

the grandest of them all.

You had the gall... No, the GUTS

to portray my Lord Father and all other Olympians

warts and all on your tapestry,

with their affairs and the ensuing scandals.

Why did I say I won? To uphold decency?

No, it was green-eyed envy because

a goddess hadn't dared to take those potshots

and a human had been bold, brave, by far, to do it.

I was wrong, Arachne.

If you can still hear me in that tiny eight-legged form...

I say I retract my victory. You win.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 11

 Week of Power

11th of December - The Haywain (Haywagon)

All flesh is hay

and every human, from popes to royals to peasants

wants some of that sweet hay,

they fight wars and do coups d'état and murder

for that sweet, sweet hay...

Only young lovers seem inmune

to the spell of that sweet, sweet, sweet hay;

how wonderful is the power of love!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 10

 Week of Love

10th of December - Hermaphroditus and Salmacis

SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS
I was always the odd one out
I only had a shawl for a clue
alone among all of my kindred
in the end, the yearning was too strong
liquid mirror, who's the fairest one of all?
I've walked through ice and fire, through storm and flood
but I still haven't found what I seek
but I still haven't sought what to find
a sprig of lavender would be nice in my hair
my head swims, my throat's seared, flames dance before my eyes
this clump of lavender bushes will be fine, won't it?
the sound of rushing freshwater smites upon my ears
braiding, with lithe and gentle fingers, these scented stalks
I bend the knees, cup both my hands, and quaff liquid crystal
the corsage fits my right wrist perfectly
it tastes like this refreshing spearmint, that grows all around
gulp, gulp, there must be a thirsty stranger at the spring
coursing down my throat, this draught quenches the inner flame
a stripling or a maiden? A young person, seen from behind...
splashing on my face, the perspiration is washed off
I tie my hair back in a golden sun of a chignon
now a rest in the shade until the afternoon falls
those sharp features... that dark shade on his lip... it's a he!!
the chirp of cicadas lulls me off to sleep
Now I stand right before you; you're in for a surprise!
GASP!!
Fair stranger, I have been waiting for you!!
She's popped up like a traitor, without forewarning!!
If not as a sweetheart, as a sister or a friend...
Flustered, I turn my head to the left as she clasps me!
At least I've kissed his right cheekbone! Shy pretty boy...
L-leave me al-lone, or I will l-l-leave this pl-lace!
He turns to the pond, not seeing me saunter behind him...
At last alone... ready to have a swim in peace...
this mastic bush provides the perfect hiding place to watch
my right foot, refreshed, shivers pleasantly; the left one plunges in
now he casts off his cloak... such dazzling white shoulder blades!
undressed, I wade until I stand up to the waist
his shapely legs cleave the water like a frog's
so free and so fresh I have never felt on land
this blaze sears me like a raisin in the sun
so fresh and so free I have never felt on land
only he can quench my insides, that no longer can hold this flame...
even the remembrance of my quest has dissolved
I WIN!!
she clasps me around the waist, plunging me underwater
he kicks, and writhes; I hold him even tighter
my lips are sealed to keep precious air within me
his shut lips constantly turn away from mine
at last all my limbs falter, my lips part, my lungs are flooded...
precious diamonds of air rise to the surface as he grows pale...
is this the way things should end?
is this the way things should end?
I make a wish to live through this icy, liquid darkness
I make a wish to give my own life to save his own
and the wish comes true, indeed
and the wish comes true, of course
both male and female, both dead and alive, and neither
both female and male, both alive and dead, and neither
and all who touch this spring may share our fate
and all who touch this spring will share our fate

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 9

 Week of Love

9th of December - Persephone

I am caught between two loves: I am

my mother's daughter, but also my husband's wife.

I spend half the year with each of them.

I love them both equally,

half a year under the Sun,

half a year in the Underworld.

After all, Mum, when I disappeared

you were worried so sick

that the whole Earth grew cold and barren.

And you, my lord,

though you spirited me away by force

into your dark realm,

I gradually grew to love you as a wife and Queen.

I am forever caught between two worlds:

my mother's daughter, but also my husband's wife.

This is me. Persephone.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 8

 Week of Love  

8th of December - Othello and Desdemona

"No way but this;

killing myself, to die upon a kiss."

You were the only one who loved me for me;

seeing the man instead of the war hero or the freak.

And I loved you with all my heart back,

so much that I feared losing you,

like I lost so many friends on the battlefield.

When it seemed I had lost you, I thought of your death

as a way of sparing others the heartbreak I felt.

It was like the whole cosmos fell apart,

and only getting rid of you would set things right.

I have just realised you were innocent,

always pure and true,

and I would live in infamy, fallen from grace,

for having taken away such a pristine life.

No way but this;

killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 7

 Week of Love

7th of December - Lisant un conte

Oh please Mum, tell me a story,

while we snuggle up and cuddle,

swaddle the tale in snuggles and cuddles,

of Beauty and the Beast, Lumière and Cogsworth,

or the star-crossed romance of Romeo and Juliet,

or the battles of El Cid, or the Fairy Queen

who fell for a donkey-headed actor.

I can never get enough of all your stories,

told with oodles of love, and cuddles here and there...

And you will be proud of me, Mum,

when I come of age and, as an adult,

I have a passion for literature.

I have lovingly watered the seeds

of all stories you planted in me,

as a token of our mutual LOVE.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 6

 Week of Love

6th of December - Cupid and Psyche

Once upon a time,

the god of love himself fell in love

with his mother's mortal rival.

Aphrodite would only take Psyche for an in-law

and give her and Cupid her blessing

if the human girl completed a series of labours

(like a female Theseus or Hercules).

Psyche took the wool from fire-breathing rams,

the wool they had left on the thorns.

Zeus' Eagle helped her fill her pitcher

from a waterfall guarded by dragons.

But the last task was the most daunting:

"Descend to the realm of the dead

and bring me a pot of Persephone's beauty cream," 

said Aphrodite, determined.

Psyche geared herself up for the Underworld:

she brought money for Charon to cross the Styx,

a half dozen doggy biscuits for Cerberus

(three for the journey there, three for the return),

and ate nothing that Hades and Persephone gave her

(otherwise she would have stayed in their dark realm).

On the journey home, however,

she was intrigued, as curious as Pandora,

and opened the tiny pot of beauty cream.

Psyche plunged instantly into deep slumber:

the beauty of Persephone is

the beauty of Death itself.

Cupid found out and woke her up

with a true love's kiss,

just like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.

And Aphrodite was so moved by their love

that she gave the young couple her blessing.

They got married with great pomp on Olympus,

and she got butterfly wings, like he has feathered wings,

so they now can fly together through the skies.

Cupid and Psyche, the Flesh and the Soul,

who needed one another, were united

to live happily ever after.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 4

 Week of Love

4th of December - Birth of Aphrodite 

About them (Uranus' severed private parts) a white (sea-)foam grew from the immortal flesh, and in it a girl formed. First she approached holy Kythera; then from there she came to sea-girt Cyprus. And out stepped this modest and beautiful goddess, and grass began to grow all round beneath her slender feet. Gods and mortals call her Aphrodite, because she was formed in foam (aphros), and Kytherea, because she approached Kythera, and Cyprus-born, because she was born in wave-washed Cyprus.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 3

 

Week of Death

3rd of December - Isabella 

Ever since Mamma and Papà died

in mysterious circumstances (poisoning?)

when I was only five,

I have always been intimate with Death.

My three older brothers,

Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso,

are my guardians and run the family business 

(you would not even guess what it is,

but it employs half the population here in Messina town).

My beloved Lorenzo, that adorable valet,

so charming and so cute,

did not return from his errand in Palermo.

I thought he had left me for another girl

when his ghost, with his severed head under his arm,

haunted me a fortnight ago.

He told me hitmen sent by my three brothers

(apparently, a servant was not good enough a suitor)

beheaded and buried him in the pinewoods.

So off I stole there in secret with a knapsack,

unearthed and took his severed head,

and now it fertilises a basil plant,

buried in the plant pot.

It is the same basil that our cooks put in our pasta,

and sometimes I water it with my tears

while thinking about how my darling Renzo was betrayed.

Oh, if only my brothers Osso, Mastrosso, and Carcagnosso

knew, while scarfing down pasta al pesto at the table,

what leaves the pesto is made of!

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR: DAY 2

 

Week of Death

2nd of December - Gustavus Adolphus 

Since it is Sagittarius season and Gustavus Adolphus and Queen Christina have both of their birthdays coming up...

Inspired by thirst

for glory, on the field of battle quaffed

instead death's bitter draught.

The last word was missing in his epic song:

the word that crowns every achievement.

The mourners have done their duty, right or wrong:

they wrote it in blood and bereavement.

He left us when we (and he) expected it the least, 

in the prime of his life and at the climax of his career,

before he could be tarnished by the failing vigour of an older age

or by the corruption brought upon him by success. 

A single bullet, just like any other, 

suddenly struck his back and entered his noble chest, 

to quench a flame that never could or should have burned brighter.

ART HISTORY ADVENT CALENDAR 1: OPHELIA

Week of Death

1st of December - Ophelia

 Ophelia by Millais

A LETTER FROM ELSINORE TO PARIS:

Dearest Laertes,

your sister was not entirely sane:

she kept on doling out weeds to all of us

while singing nursery rhymes,

and therefore, when trying to get a water-lily

beneath the willow that grows by the lake,

she slipped on a rock and her gown was fully drenched,

falling into the lake, and 

the Näkki spirited her away.

We are so sad you lost the only family you have left.

Sincerely,

Queen Gertrude and King Claudius.

THE TRUTH ABOUT OPHELIA:

My older brother's gone to France

to teach French ladies how to dance...

and all my violets have wilted.

Have some rue for my regrets, for I rue the day

that I began loving Prince Hamlet,

who set sail for Mercia and Northumbria 

not long ago.

That Näkki-rose, that water-lily,

that grows in the shade of the weeping willow,

would look lovely on Mama's and Papa's grave,

(ah, if they were alive and understood me!)

so I headed for the lake.

And, as I knelt by the little pier there,

I heard the Näkki play the violin...

He is so handsome,

in spite of his webbed hands and feet,

and the gills frilled like a collar round his neck...

When he fiddled, I sang old sagas and nursery rhymes.

One look, one tune, and we understood

that we were kindred spirits,

both of us outsiders,

neither one wanted in the human realm.

So I gathered my courage and took the plunge,

my gown and apron drenched, I pulled down to the bottom,

I felt both my clothes and flesh melt away,

even as the guards fished up my lifeless corpse.

Now I am another ghost of Elsinore,

married to a freshwater merman beneath the lake,

and the Näkki loves me like no one ever has,

and he understands me like no one ever has.

Merfolk can live for centuries, after all,

and our relationship is certainly

a happily ever after.