Fleet of foot I am not, yet one of my greatest pleasures is to walk. I kid myself I can walk for miles but, really, my limit seems to be but two, and then I have to sit - preferably with a waiter to hand. Inside a museum, where yards can feel like miles on the trek to the one thing in the place that whispers a word of welcome, sitting is frequently not an option.
It's not often that the portrayals of ancient gods and goddesses, all majesty, might and malice, make one feel kinship - largely they're ideals of human form and with all the distance that divinity brings. Not from them the dramatic gesturing, the mugging for the sculptor's chisel, as it were, that one gets from Bernini's angels and saints, the latter-day scions of the ancient pantheon, rather an unheeding solemnity rarely relinquished.
Hermes, elder brother of Dionysus, messenger of the gods, guide of souls across the Styx, protector of thieves, inventor of the lyre, and as divine a bad-boy as any of his cousins scattered around the Archaeological Museum, sits contemplatively on a rock, the living image of a neighborhood kid with a bloodied lip who, having just dropped into the peristyle for a chat, wonders if, despite all, he has been handed a bum rap.
"Well," I said to the Celt, "it just goes to show how much we are led by the nose not just by books and magazines but also by our own aspirations." I had just remarked, seemingly only to myself, that I'd like a copy of Hermes on the stone cabinet (a piece of 1980s whimsy in the form of a plinth ashlared in faux limestone) in our living room. The Celt, used as he is, he says, to my verbally completing conversations that hitherto have occurred solely in my head, murmured something noncommittal. But, to agree with myself at least, Hermes would look fabulous perched there in the living room - a conversation piece, if ever there were one.
The question, of course, is why I want such a conversation piece, which surely it would be, in our living room. Be they tablescapes, acres of white phalaenopsis, asymmetrical arrangements of artwork or plaster casts of Classical torsos, I'm pretty resistant to alluring pageants of objets on offer in designer monographs, magazines and eBay. Yet twice now, I've had the same strong response - I want - to two objects; the first a bronze monk who now resides in our bedroom, and now this statue of Hermes. In each case, it is not the connection with religion, but the clear humanity of them both, that speaks to me.
iPhone camera notwithstanding, and as much as I might have wished, I couldn't kneel at his feet.
He's beautiful. I can see why you'd want him. Where did you see him sitting on that rock?
ReplyDeleteHe was just there in the middle of a room at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. I spotted him straightaway, and I'm not even into twinks.
ReplyDeletePeter Block spoke and showed extraordinary slides on Wednesday. He kept saying "always the human form." I doubt he realized he was saying it so often. Design photography seems so lifeless to me however beautiful. Sculptures help. There are so many sculptures in your blog that I always search for them. I vote yes on Hermes.
ReplyDeleteTerry, thank you. I do like sculpture though I do not have any other than a small bronze not five inches high. If I collect, it is drawings and I seem to have a lot of those.
ReplyDeleteI have some more photos of very beautiful sculptures coming up in the next few weeks which I hope you'll appreciate. What was the event on Wednesday night? I was in class, would have missed it anyway.
Peter spoke at Switch Modern's "Spotlight on Design" about his work and about work he likes. He was inspired that night. Folks are trying to get him to do an encore.
DeleteI too am keen on bronzes, and have a couple, one of a dog and one a copy of Bonheur's lioness. Hermes is indeed beautiful, but I would need a palace to accommodate one of this size. Perhaps there's a smaller version available.
ReplyDeleteColumnist, thank you. I'm sure there's a smaller version available but it's not quite the same thing at all. Though I like the Seated Hermes very much I think something by Lynn Chadwick would be a better fit.
DeleteLots of people seem attracted to that piece:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2004/08/24/MNGF78DCN41.DTL
It even comes in various sizes:
http://www.museum-replicas.com/p-322-resting-hermes-bronze-sculpture.aspx
On balance, I'd say go for it *if* you can find a copy of sufficient quality and the right size for your house. And *if* you think you won't get bored with it.
(I have a few bronzes, collected by a family member in the 19th century, and two small copies that I bought myself some decades ago. But only one of the older ones is a real show-stopper -- dominating the room it's in. I've always been glad to have it, largely because it cheers me up just to look at it.)
The Ancient, thank you. Also, thank you for the links.
DeletePerhaps the attraction to the Seated Hermes was but a fleeting infatuation - a holiday romance - nothing more. A statue of the that size would need more room than I could give it and my preference seems to be for small-scale sculpture - things i can handle (not that one should, necessarily).
He's very handsome and I think you should have him!!!
ReplyDeletebest,
joan
Do you know I had never before realised that the majority of these magnificent sculptures are not, indeed, ever sitting down. Talk about missing the obvious! But there you have it. So it just goes to prove the old adage that one should, and generally does, learn something new every day.
ReplyDeleteIf you feel strongly about it (and it is completely unnecessary to justify its acquisition in my opinion anyway), then why on earth - or heaven as the case may be as we are talking gods after all - should you not have it? Magnificence should be celebrated every day!