This is a series of drawings on approximately A1 sized paper with Chinese ink. This series dwells on the relation of modern man to the classical arts.
Is it preposterous for an old man, disfigured by a trauma at an early age during fitness training, to stand strong in a toga? He was an athlete, and still at a senior age he is a champion in his respected field - with such athletic prowess, is this an incompatible concept with the beauty of man, so prevalent in Greek antiquity? Is an adolescent's rejection of classical beauty a childish mockery, which presents a melancholic situation where unbeknownst to them, they disassimilate, supposedly, the deeper and more natural truths about themselves? Or is the heritage of those times, albeit being so highly regarded as even apotheosizing numerous philosophers, artists, mathematicians, without any use to us? If so, we therefore could brutally sever our connection with the beautiful and dramatic part of our history. We could say goodbye to Seneca, Plato, Polykleitos, Phidias and many others...
|Some sketches on this series.|
Along with this series I would like to share a relevant poem by Percy Bisshe Shelly.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Some additional selected drawings. The first three are on A1 sized paper. The rest are small and varied.