Posts Tagged ‘Pan’

“The Last One”

Saturday, January 11th, 2014

This painting is fairly recent but I completely forgot about it until stumbling upon it while doing some late, late spring cleaning. It’s sort of a sister piece to an earlier drawing of a satyr called “If Pan is Dead, Then Why Am I?” They both share some themes, although the painting contains more than the drawing. Also, at least this figure has a goatee. Just like its penciled sibling, this work demonstrates my woeful ignorance of anatomy, even half-human anatomy, and the hands in both pieces are an absolute embarrassment. I could express my dissatisfaction by crying, “Baa!” but fear Kathy’s reaction since she disproves of bad puns, be they Ovid or ovine. She also protests when I don’t wipe my hooves on the welcome mat.

Greek Myths #2: “If Pan Is Dead, Then Why Am I?”

Saturday, June 19th, 2010

I did a small series on Greek myths that I thought no one would ever see. When I started this blog, I began to think maybe it’s time to unleash them upon an unsuspecting world. The piece titled “Odysseus” (which I posted earlier on this blog) is actually the first piece in this particular series, but when I posted it, I didn’t think I’d be posting the rest of them. But things change, as the wise old sage once said. As such, you are now viewing #2 in the series. I will be posting the rest as time allows.

Before summarizing this piece, I apologize for the figure’s left hand. It’s obvious I was having a bad “I can’t draw hands” day at the time. (Alas, the poor creature may have been born that way or hit by a speeding object. I don’t know which, but I’m sorry for creating him with a gimp).

Now, Plutarch once wrote that in the reign of Tiberius a sailor, Thamus by name, was commanded by a voice shouting over the waves that, “When you reach Palodes, take care to proclaim that the great god Pan is dead.” That ancient anecdote is the inspiration for this drawing. Indulging one’s fancy that such beings once were, one then wonders what became of the minor mythological creatures, this satyr for example, when their siring and sustaining myth, Pan, perished. Or, in the real world, when love dies, when the frontier is all blacktopped over, when an ideal is snuffed out, when the presumed very purpose for their existence ceases to be, then what becomes of the devoted, the pioneer and the dreamer?