In View

Mark Rothko

Tumblong

Africa: The Art of a Continent

Over the River - [Christo and Jean Claude]

NOTE: In minoan art (c. 3000 to 1000 BC). . . . "rocks often project from the sides and even from above, and plants sometimes seem to grow downwards. The rocks and plants give the composition a frame and also serve to define the space around the figures. The spectator is supposed to imagine himself in the centre of the scene and to orient himself with the help of rocks and stones surrounding the picture, and he is then supposed to transform the scene and add an illusion of space to the picture himself. [Walberg, Gisela. Tradition and Innovation. Essays in Minoan Art. Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp Von Zabern. 1986. on 'Enclosing composition' in the chapter, Space and Perspective in Minoan Art, pp. 117-138]

QUOTE:

The Voyage

We left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbor-mouth;
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail for evermore.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow
Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail:
The Lady's -head upon the prow
Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.
The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel,
And swept behind: so quick the run,
We felt the good ship shake and reel,
We seem'd to sail into the Sun!

How oft we saw the Sun retire,
And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,
And sleep beneath his pillar'd light!
How oft the purple-skirted robe
Of twilight slowly downward drawn,
As thro' the slumber of the globe
Again we dash'd into the dawn!

New stars all night above the brim
Of waters lighten'd into view;
They climb'd as quickly, for the rim
Changed every moment as we flew.
Far ran the naked moon across
The houseless ocean's heaving field,
Or flying shone, the silver boss
Of her own halo's dusky shield;

The peaky islet shifted shapes,
High towns on hills were dimly seen,
We past long lines of Northern capes
And dewy Northern meadows green.
We came to warmer waves, and deep
Across the boundless east we drove,
Where those long swells of breaker sweep
The nutmeg rocks and isles of coves.
By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade,

Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine
With ashy rains, that spreading made 
Fantastic plume or sable pine;
By sands and steaming flats and floods,
Of mightly month, we scudded fast,
And hills and scarlet-mingled woods
Glow'd for a moment as we past.

O hundred shores of happy climes,
How swiftly stream d ye by the bark!
At times the whole sea  burn'd, at times
With wakes of fire we tore the dark;
At times a carven  craft would shoot
From heavens hid in fairy bowers,
With naked limbs and flowers and fruit,
But we nor paused for fruit nor flowers.

For one fair Vision ever fled
Down the waste waters day and night,
And still we follow'd where she led,
In hope to gain upon her flight.
Her face was ever more unseen,
And fixt upon the far sea-line;
But each man murmur'd, O, my Queen.
I follow till I make thee mine."

And now we lost her, now she gleam'd
Like fancy made of golden air.
Now nearer to the prow she seem'd
Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair
Now high on waves that idly burst
Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the sea
And now, the bloodless point reversed,
She bore the blade of liberty.

And only one among us - him
We pleased not - he was seldom pleased:
He saw not far: his  eyes were dim:
But ours he swore were all diseased.
"A ship of fools," he shriek'd in spite
"A  ship of fools," he sneer'd  and wept.
And overboard one stormy night
He cast his body, and on we swept.

And never sail of ours was furl'd,
Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn;
We loved the glories of the world,
But laws of nature were our scorn;
For blasts would rise and rave and cease,
But whence were those that drove the sail
Across the whirllwind's heart of peace,
And to and thro' the counter-gale?

Again to colder climes we came,
For still we follow'd where she led:
Now mate is blind and captain lame,
And half the crew are sick or dead.
But blind or lame or sick or sound
We follow that which flies before:
We know the merry world is round,
And we may sail for evermore.

[Tenneson, The Voyage]

The Work Featured Above: The work presented here is 'The Parisien' from a fresco at Knossos, dated 15th century B.C. For more works from ancient Greek go to Ministry of Culture, Greece