Oh No!! They've Taken Away My Muse!!!

Well, it's my day off today, and my husband's out digging up other folks' gardens, so I'm having to amuse myself. 

I did some gardening first thing, and caused a dreadful blackbird fight by (shock horror!) FEEDING THE WRONG BLACKBIRD!!  I thought there was something odd about the creature's behaviour, but it was only when my usual fellow came streaking down like a glossy black bolt from the blue that I realised the full extent of my mistake.

And...  My boy lost the battle and was sent packing!!! 

Will he ever be seen again?  Only time will tell...

Enough of this avian soap opera.  The sun's shining, summer almost feels like it's here, so to celebrate, I took out my bike.  My aim was to do my usual 20 mile run down the cycle track, with a short interlude in Cucina Minucci (my inevitable cafe stop) to sip a mocha, munch on a slice of lemon loaf, and gear myself up for a solid afternoon's writing.  Well, it seems to have worked for J K, doesn't it?

There was method in my madness.  The cafe features the work of local artists and photographers.  For the last few months, the photography section has been a themed display showing various dancers and muscians.  A small boy with a drum kit, a sassy black vocalist (at least, she looks like she ought to be a vocalist!).  And a rather lovely classical guitarist with bewitching dark eyes and a lovely curling mane of long dark hair.  

He bears a striking resemblance to Lysander, the hero of my latest work-in-progress, so much so that every time I go in there I either get fired up with inspiration, or struck down with a guilt trip because I'm not sitting at the word processor, writing furiously. 

Lysander was initially based upon those rather lovely ephebes who feature on Attic vases - haughty but laid back, arrogant, yet strangely demure.  I never thought I'd find a look-alike hanging on the wall of a local cafe. 

Okay, there are inconsistencies.  The young man in question has a rather strange tatoo of an octopus on forearm.  Lysander doesn't do tatoos.  Too much like unnecessary adornment. 

And Lysander, being Spartan, wouldn't really be into strumming away at the Classical guitar.  I'm beginning to suspect he's a dab hand with the lyre, though he's rather cagey about such things just now.   But he does have rather a good singing voice...  I'm sure he could, however, think of various ingenious ways to make use of a classical guitar in times of duress.  The strings, for example, would be the just the thing for garotting an unruly helot in the Krypteia... 

Anyway, I found myself a table, sat down, and turned around to see my muse, to see that he'd been evicted and replaced with....

A tree.

D'oh.  D'oh.  D'oh.  D'oh.  And D'oh again.  [Thumps head repeatedly against sofa to emphasis point].

Never mind.  When I explained my predicament to the proprietor, it gave her a good laugh.  And I'm sure that the story will, in turn, give the photographer a good laugh when she next turns up for a coffee. 

Ah well.  I guess it's back to the Attic Vases for me.

Oh No!! They've Taken Away My Muse!!!

Well, it's my day off today, and my husband's out digging up other folks' gardens, so I'm having to amuse myself. 

I did some gardening first thing, and caused a dreadful blackbird fight by (shock horror!) FEEDING THE WRONG BLACKBIRD!!  I thought there was something odd about the creature's behaviour, but it was only when my usual fellow came streaking down like a glossy black bolt from the blue that I realised the full extent of my mistake.

And...  My boy lost the battle and was sent packing!!! 

Will he ever be seen again?  Only time will tell...

Enough of this avian soap opera.  The sun's shining, summer almost feels like it's here, so to celebrate, I took out my bike.  My aim was to do my usual 20 mile run down the cycle track, with a short interlude in Cucina Minucci (my inevitable cafe stop) to sip a mocha, munch on a slice of lemon loaf, and gear myself up for a solid afternoon's writing.  Well, it seems to have worked for J K, doesn't it?

There was method in my madness.  The cafe features the work of local artists and photographers.  For the last few months, the photography section has been a themed display showing various dancers and muscians.  A small boy with a drum kit, a sassy black vocalist (at least, she looks like she ought to be a vocalist!).  And a rather lovely classical guitarist with bewitching dark eyes and a lovely curling mane of long dark hair.  

He bears a striking resemblance to Lysander, the hero of my latest work-in-progress, so much so that every time I go in there I either get fired up with inspiration, or struck down with a guilt trip because I'm not sitting at the word processor, writing furiously. 

Lysander was initially based upon those rather lovely ephebes who feature on Attic vases - haughty but laid back, arrogant, yet strangely demure.  I never thought I'd find a look-alike hanging on the wall of a local cafe. 

Okay, there are inconsistencies.  The young man in question has a rather strange tatoo of an octopus on forearm.  Lysander doesn't do tatoos.  Too much like unnecessary adornment. 

And Lysander, being Spartan, wouldn't really be into strumming away at the Classical guitar.  I'm beginning to suspect he's a dab hand with the lyre, though he's rather cagey about such things just now.   But he does have rather a good singing voice...  I'm sure he could, however, think of various ingenious ways to make use of a classical guitar in times of duress.  The strings, for example, would be the just the thing for garotting an unruly helot in the Krypteia... 

Anyway, I found myself a table, sat down, and turned around to see my muse, to see that he'd been evicted and replaced with....

A tree.

D'oh.  D'oh.  D'oh.  D'oh.  And D'oh again.  [Thumps head repeatedly against sofa to emphasis point].

Never mind.  When I explained my predicament to the proprietor, it gave her a good laugh.  And I'm sure that the story will, in turn, give the photographer a good laugh when she next turns up for a coffee. 

Ah well.  I guess it's back to the Attic Vases for me.

A Fine Way To Treat Your Dancing Partner...

It's Bull-leaping time.  Well, I couldn't really talk about the Minoans without mentioning one of their well-known pastimes, could I?

I'll open with the famous fresco.  Bearing in mind that female figures are white, and male figures red-brown, it certainly seems to be a sport enjoyed (if that's the right word) by both sexes:-

 

For once, the photograph features the original, now held in Heraklion Museum. 

Bull-leaping also features in sculptures, as the little ivory figure below clearly testifies.

On the face of it, bull-leaping looks quite a pleasant form of entertainment.  Unlike the modern Spanish bullfights, no-one shoves vicious spears and swords into the bull, and first impressions suggest that the relationship between bull and bull-leaper represents more of a partnership between man (or woman?) and beast than an attempt at subjugation.  We could theorise until the cows come home (sorry!) as to what the bull-leaping is for, what it represents, etc.  Certainly, it could be interpreted as an attempt to outmanouvre and outwit a creature that was renowned for its strength and aggression, and which may have epitomised the wild, natural world and functioned as some kind of fertility symbol.

I'm not convinced that the rosy-tinted view of Man (or Woman!) working in partnership with the Noble Bull is quite so appropriate.  Here's a magnificent rhyton or ritual vessel, carved from serpentine and shaped like the head of a bull.  It's been heavily restored, but it still ranks in my Top Ten Artefacts of All Time (jostling in a close third behind the Vix Kratar and the Basse Yutz flagons):-

 

Its purpose?  Well, it was probably used to carry a liquid offering.  Three guesses what that's likely to be, judging from the form of the vessel.  And if that isn't proof enough of Minoan bull abuse, here's a picture from a Minoan sarcophogus.  It shows a bull or ox trussed up on altar in the process of being sacrificed, with the blood from its cut throat draining into a rhyton:-

 

The other animals waiting in the sidelines look distinctly uncomfortable.

So there we have it.  Cute and cuddly, the Minoans certainly are not (at least, not if you're a bull, or any other member of the animal kingdom.  And at certain times in their history, their treatment of their fellow human beings isn't much better, either, but that's another story).  But fascinating they most certainly are.

And you really can't fault them on their craftsmanship, either.  The woolly topknot carved into the stone rhyton is proof enough of that, not to mention the shell inlay of the nose and the eyes of rock crystal and jasper.

And now I really must get on with some writing.

A Fine Way To Treat Your Dancing Partner...

It's Bull-leaping time.  Well, I couldn't really talk about the Minoans without mentioning one of their well-known pastimes, could I?

I'll open with the famous fresco.  Bearing in mind that female figures are white, and male figures red-brown, it certainly seems to be a sport enjoyed (if that's the right word) by both sexes:-

 

For once, the photograph features the original, now held in Heraklion Museum. 

Bull-leaping also features in sculptures, as the little ivory figure below clearly testifies.

On the face of it, bull-leaping looks quite a pleasant form of entertainment.  Unlike the modern Spanish bullfights, no-one shoves vicious spears and swords into the bull, and first impressions suggest that the relationship between bull and bull-leaper represents more of a partnership between man (or woman?) and beast than an attempt at subjugation.  We could theorise until the cows come home (sorry!) as to what the bull-leaping is for, what it represents, etc.  Certainly, it could be interpreted as an attempt to outmanouvre and outwit a creature that was renowned for its strength and aggression, and which may have epitomised the wild, natural world and functioned as some kind of fertility symbol.

I'm not convinced that the rosy-tinted view of Man (or Woman!) working in partnership with the Noble Bull is quite so appropriate.  Here's a magnificent rhyton or ritual vessel, carved from serpentine and shaped like the head of a bull.  It's been heavily restored, but it still ranks in my Top Ten Artefacts of All Time (jostling in a close third behind the Vix Kratar and the Basse Yutz flagons):-

 

Its purpose?  Well, it was probably used to carry a liquid offering.  Three guesses what that's likely to be, judging from the form of the vessel.  And if that isn't proof enough of Minoan bull abuse, here's a picture from a Minoan sarcophogus.  It shows a bull or ox trussed up on altar in the process of being sacrificed, with the blood from its cut throat draining into a rhyton:-

 

The other animals waiting in the sidelines look distinctly uncomfortable.

So there we have it.  Cute and cuddly, the Minoans certainly are not (at least, not if you're a bull, or any other member of the animal kingdom.  And at certain times in their history, their treatment of their fellow human beings isn't much better, either, but that's another story).  But fascinating they most certainly are.

And you really can't fault them on their craftsmanship, either.  The woolly topknot carved into the stone rhyton is proof enough of that, not to mention the shell inlay of the nose and the eyes of rock crystal and jasper.

And now I really must get on with some writing.