Monday, September 28, 2015

Icarus Sample Timeline (Note: This sample is not perfect - we will discuss issues in class)

The story of Icarus originated in ancient Greece. It is the story of a boy who flew too close to the sun and paid the price, and the tale reflects ancient Greek values surrounding hubris and humanity’s relationship with nature. Over time, however, Icarus came to take on many different meanings, from being a cautionary tale to being a symbol for human potential. While the story was referred to by many ancient Greek authors, such as in Apollodorus’ Epitome, one of the most complete versions in ancient literature is from the Roman author Ovid’s book, Metamorphoses. It was common for Roman authors to retell Greek myths, and the Metamorphoses is a particularly important source of information about ancient Greece (Johnston). Ovid relates the story this way, as translated by A.S. Kline:
“Meanwhile Daedalus, hating Crete, and his long exile, and filled with a desire to stand on his native soil, was imprisoned by the waves. ‘He may thwart our escape by land or sea’ he said ‘but the sky is surely open to us: we will go that way: Minos rules everything but he does not rule the heavens’. So saying he applied his thought to new invention and altered the natural order of things. He laid down lines of feathers, beginning with the smallest, following the shorter with longer ones, so that you might think they had grown like that, on a slant. In that way, long ago, the rustic pan-pipes were graduated, with lengthening reeds. Then he fastened them together with thread at the middle, and bees’-wax at the base, and, when he had arranged them, he flexed each one into a gentle curve, so that they imitated real bird’s wings. His son, Icarus, stood next to him, and, not realising that he was handling things that would endanger him, caught laughingly at the down that blew in the passing breeze, and softened the yellow bees’-wax with his thumb, and, in his play, hindered his father’s marvellous work. When he had put the last touches to what he had begun, the artificer balanced his own body between the two wings and hovered in the moving air. He instructed the boy as well, saying ‘Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes. And I order you not to aim towards Bootes, the Herdsman, or Helice, the Great Bear, or towards the drawn sword of Orion: take the course I show you!’ At the same time as he laid down the rules of flight, he fitted the newly created wings on the boy’s shoulders. While he worked and issued his warnings the ageing man’s cheeks were wet with tears: the father’s hands trembled. He gave a never to be repeated kiss to his son, and lifting upwards on his wings, flew ahead, anxious for his companion, like a bird, leading her fledglings out of a nest above, into the empty air. He urged the boy to follow, and showed him the dangerous art of flying, moving his own wings, and then looking back at his son. Some angler catching fish with a quivering rod, or a shepherd leaning on his crook, or a ploughman resting on the handles of his plough, saw them, perhaps, and stood there amazed, believing them to be gods able to travel the sky. And now Samos, sacred to Juno, lay ahead to the left (Delos and Paros were behind them), Lebinthos, and Calymne, rich in honey, to the right, when the boy began to delight in his daring flight, and abandoning his guide, drawn by desire for the heavens, soared higher. His nearness to the devouring sun softened the fragrant wax that held the wings: and the wax melted: he flailed with bare arms, but losing his oar-like wings, could not ride the air. Even as his mouth was crying his father’s name, it vanished into the dark blue sea, the Icarian Sea, called after him. The unhappy father, now no longer a father, shouted ‘Icarus, Icarus where are you? Which way should I be looking, to see you?’ ‘Icarus’ he called again. Then he caught sight of the feathers on the waves, and cursed his inventions. He laid the body to rest, in a tomb, and the island was named Icaria after his buried child.” (Ovid)
This story reflects its ancient Greek origins in many ways. Greek myths often warned against hubris, or excessive pride. Human beings who were not humble enough, or who thought they did have to stay within the limits of human beings and tried to be a little too close to godlike, were often punished with tragic ends, such as in the stories of Agamemnon and Arachne. Ovid’s version notes that some fisherman or ploughman might have “stood there amazed, believing them to be gods able to travel the sky,” emphasizing that by taking to the skies, Icarus and Daedalus were exceeding the proper bounds of humanity in a dangerous way. This myth is also typical of Greek myths because Daedalus’ strength – his amazing cleverness and ability to invent – destroys his own family; as Ovid writes, Daedalus “cursed his own inventions.” The idea that one’s source of power can be closely connected to one’s failures or source of downfall is common in Greek myth, from Heracles’ strength, which is turned on his family, to Helen’s beauty, which was blamed for the Trojan War.




(Image source: http://www.pompeiiinpictures.com/pompeiiinpictures/R1/1%2007%2007%20p3.htm)



The above work of art is a wall painting of Icarus uncovered at Pompeii, an ancient Roman city. Pompeii is a particularly important source of ancient art because in 79 C.E., a nearby volcano exploded and covered the city in ash, killing the inhabitants. The ash, however, preserved many works of art that were later discovered in the 20th century. Wall paintings such as this one are rare from this period, because most wall paintings deteriorated long ago.

This painting was found on a wall in a wealthy family’s home. It was common for such families to patronize artists and display art, especially dealing with scenes from myths, to decorate their homes and to demonstrate their wealth and status to others. The painting has many traits that are characteristic of Roman art, including a sense of realism in the depiction of the human form, particularly in the use of naturalistic poses. An example is twisting of the body flying in the air, conveying a dynamic sense of motion and speed, thus accentuating the danger and tragedy of the story and the sudden powerlessness the character might feel. It is also notable that in this artwork, which seems to depict a traditional or typical version of the Icarus story, all the characters at land or sea witness and pay great attention to what is happening; an artist in another time period, however, will subvert this convention.



During the Renaissance, also called the Early Modern period, Europe saw an explosion of interest in ancient Greek and Roman culture, including the myth of Icarus. This time period in the West was characterized by humanism, an emphasis on individualism and an interest in the arts, humanities, and sciences, largely driven by resurging interest in the culture of ancient Greece and Rome (“Renaissance Humanism”). This humanism was a departure from the medieval European tendency to put the Christian Church at the center of most art and knowledge (“Renaissance Humanism”). Trade, including trade based on colonization and slavery, brought wealth into many European cities, and wealthy families would often show their riches and influence by being patrons to artists, authors, or scientists, which also furthered the study of ancient Greek and Roman thinkers.

Giordano Bruno’s poem “Life Well Lost” alludes to Icarus to depict a narrator who wants to fly higher and higher, without regard for whether he will end up with Icarus’ fate:

Life Well Lost, by Giordano Bruno

Winged by desire and thee, O dear delight!
As still the vast and succoring air I tread,
So, mounting still, on swifter pinions sped,
I scorn the world, and heaven receives my flight.
And if the end of Icarus be nigh,
I will submit, for I shall know no pain:
And falling dead to earth, shall rise again;
What lowly life with such high death can vie?
Then speaks my heart from out the upper air,
'Whither dost lead me? sorrow and despair
Attend the rash.' and thus I make reply:--
'Fear thou no fall, nor lofty ruin sent;
Safely divide the clouds, and die content,
When such proud death is dealt thee from on high.
(Source: http://www.bartleby.com/library/poem/979.html)

Giordano Bruno (1548-1600) was a Renaissance scholar and philosopher who was known for challenging the dominant scholarly ideas of the time, even being willing to disagree with Aristotle, a rarity at the time (Library of the World’s Best Literature). He was also known for the belief that reason could take human knowledge to new and exciting heights (ibid.), and he believed that the universe is infinite and the sun is a star just as other stars in the sky. Bruno’s attitudes reflect the spirit of the Renaissance, or at least its most innovative aspects, in many ways, and this poem is an especially good example of an emerging Renaissance view of the world. Because of Bruno’s philosophical work, the poem is often read as a narrative about human potential, and about the new Renaissance emphasis on individuality and the power of knowledge. The poem also reflects a belief that human beings have unlimited potential and that they should strive to reach that potential no matter what the costs, as shown by the way that the narrator “scorn[s] the world,” and claims that even if flying too high dooms him, he “shall know no pain” and have a “proud death.” Bruno therefore completely reverses the ancient meaning of the story. Instead of a warning against hubris and trying to exceed the limits of what human beings are supposed to do an be, Bruno glorifies sacrificing oneself for the privilege of reaching farther than other human beings have reached. This is an apt sentiment for a time period that made enormous strides in science, trade, literature, and learning, even as key institutions and sources of authority lost some of the power in society. The poetic form of the poem is a Petrarchan sonnet, which is also a very important genre in the time period, often used to make brief but emotionally evocative statements about life.

Many other painters and writers revisited the myth of Icarus during the Renaissance, often making allusions to his story, as they did to many other Greek myths. A particularly notable painting of this time was by Pieter Brughel.




(Image Source: http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/s_z/williams/icarus.htm)

The above painting, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, is often attributed to Pieter Brueghel the Elder, and was likely painted in the 1560s. This painting is notable for making the subject of the painting, Icarus, a small and easy to miss part of the painting, a tiny body falling into the water in the lower right corner of the frame, mostly seen as legs. Through size and placement, the artist places much more emphasis on the farmers, ships, and landscape – the emphasis is on the ordinary and not the mythical and spectacular. Icarus’ fall, though a tragedy of legend, does not even merit notice from these characters, who go about their work, either not realizing or not caring about the tragedy that has occurred, thus allowing the painting to be read as a commentary on human beings’ ability to ignore the suffering of others. According to the Metropolitan Museum of Art description of Brueghel, it was common for Brueghel to portray common people and also to depict religious or mythical stories in ways that “[expand] the viewer’s perspective to make the titular action but one part of a startlingly broad vision of the natural and cultivated world.” In this view, the painting offers a humanistic view of the myth in that it seeks to place the story in the context of a wider set of questions about nature, the world, and human behavior.



Brueghel’s painting became so famous that many later writers were inspired by it. Perhaps the most famous example is by the 20th century poet W.H. Auden:


Musee des Beaux Arts, by W. H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
(Source: http://english.emory.edu/classes/paintings&poems/auden.html)


(Hear the poet reading the poem aloud here: http://www.wwnorton.com/college/english/nael9/section/volF/audio.aspx)

Clearly, Auden interprets the painting as being about the nature of suffering, directly stating so in the first line. Auden discusses other paintings as well as Brueghel’s, and uses informal and even vulgar imagery such as “doggy life” and a horse scratching "its innocent behind" to highlight the ways that the paintings resist the tendency to focus only on the majestic or wondrous in mythical or religious stories. The last two lines likewise accentuate the contrast between the “amazing” sight of Icarus and the mundane reaction to the extraordinary that the ship had, as it “had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.” Ending the poem this way leaves the reader with a sense of unease over how the onlookers were able and happy to move on with their own goals, oblivious to Icarus; not only is this a potentially upsetting view of human nature and lack of compassion, this ending also calls into question whether any suffering or death has a real impact or meaning in the world, since even the mythic figure Icarus’ death seems to have little effect beyond his own family.

Auden was a British poet who wrote this poem while traveling to an art museum in Belgium in 1938. This time period saw the rise of fascism, persecution of minority groups and intellectuals, including violence and arrest. In this context, Auden’s discussion of apathy toward human suffering takes on a political meaning, and may be a call to pay more attention to the tragedies that were unfolding instead of merely going about one’s own business. The narrator is self-reflective, however; as Europe is in turmoil, the narrator (and the author) has the freedom to browse around an art museum and contemplate. The narrator therefore implicates himself in the way that parts of society distance themselves from what is happening to others.

In addition to directly alluding to Brueghel’s painting, Auden’s poem contrasts strikingly with Bruno’s poem from the Renaissance. Auden lives in a time, following World War I and during the starting years of World War II, when people were legitimately concerned with whether the human race had a future. For much of Western history since the Renaissance, Western culture had promoted the idea of human progress, the idea that science, technology, and other kinds of knowledge would create a better world. In a world with mustard gas, colonialism, and worldwide conflict, many were skeptical about whether the human spirit and the pursuit of knowledge would bring anything more than more advanced and powerful forms of war and oppression; “progress” was leading humanity to its own destruction, in this view. Auden’s poem reflects the pessimism of the time well. Icarus has gone from being a symbol of how human beings can achieve anything, as in Bruno’s poem, to a symbol of hopelessness, the cheapness of human life, and humanity’s lack of empathy.

Icarus has continued to be alluded to in contemporary culture in many sites. Numerous songs make reference to Icarus or to his story of flying too close to the sun, for example, some of which can be heard here:









Icarus is also a character or allusion in contemporary literature, such as in a poem by Carol Ann Duffy. There is even a scientific journal named Icarus, and an e-reader as well. Clearly, there are some modern audiences or marketers who still associate Icarus with human potential and the image of a person soaring higher into the sky toward a bright future, conveniently leaving out the tragic end to the story. It is also clear, however, that Icarus remains a captivating image for audiences, even thousands of years later.





Works Cited

“Agamemnon.” http://www.mythencyclopedia.com/A-Am/Agamemnon.html

Apollodorus. Epitome. Trans. James Frazer. Book E, Chapter 1. http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.01.0022:text=Epitome:book=E:chapter=1

“Arakhne.” http://www.theoi.com/Heroine/Arakhne.html

Auden, W.H. "Musee de Beaux Arts."

Bruegel, Pieter. Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.

Bruno, Giordano. "Life Well Lost."

East wall of triclinium with wall painting of the Daedalus and Icarus.

Miller, Nelson. "Basic Sonnet Forms." http://www.sonnets.org/basicforms.htm

Johnston, I. “The Influence of Ovid’s Metamorphoses.” http://uts.cc.utexas.edu/cgi-bin/cgiwrap/silver/frame.cgi?ovid,influ

“On ‘Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.’” http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/s_z/williams/icarus.htm Library of the World's Best Literature: A-Z. Edited by Charles Dudley Warner, Hamilton Wright Mabie, Lucia Isabella Gilbert Runkle, George H. Warner, Edward Cornelius Towne.

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book VIII, Lines 183-235. Translated by A.S. Kline. http://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Metamorph8.htm#482327661

“The Renaissance.” http://www.flowofhistory.com/category/export/html/40

“Renaissance Humanism.” http://www.historyguide.org/intellect/humanism.html

Wisse, Jacob. “Pieter Bruegel the Elder.” Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. October 2002. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000. Web. 20 Sep. 2015. (http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/brue/hd_brue.htm).

Monday, August 24, 2015

Intro


This blog will be a site to store links and examples related to IAH 221A.