Newlyn School of Art and Mount's Bay... In Glorious Grey!

Summer morning over Mount's Bay from Penzance.

After an abnormally bright, but very pleasant Indian summer the weather has taken a turn towards more seasonal, autumnal temperatures and atmospheres - wet and grey being the predominant characteristics. Just as the skies are becoming heavy and the days are drawing in the work load is building up too so that the feeling of lightness and freedom is certainly fading away. However, looking at the photos from my trip back to Cornwall I'm trying to persuade myself that muted tones and a muted lifestyle can be enriching too - grey can be glorious too...

Newlyn Harbour

The distractions of vibrancy can perhaps sometimes draw you away from the essential, leading you to overlook the subtler aspects of the whole, hence the depth of black and white photos. Well, that was the theory anyway, as I look out onto non-stop rain showers on a Sunday afternoon!

Fishing nets; Newlyn.

Wandering around Penzance, Newlyn and Mousehole and Marazion early in the morning has to be my favourite holiday activity, whatever the weather, whatever the season. The region certainly offers some very bracing conditions, but in terms of photographs, I actually prefer those taken when the skies are laden with rain, clouds and heavy mist.











During more clement days the particular brightness that bathes and intensifies everything in its path can give rise to breathtaking effects.

Misty, mystical view of St Michael's Mount by my brother (thanks Joe!)

While 'Fish, Tin and Copper' were the basis of the industries that brought prosperity to South West Cornwall and the words proclaimed during toasts at the end of the 18th century, it was to be the atmospheric conditions and luminosity that was to lead to the region's artistic renown at the end of the 19th century.

Cliff tops near Land's End.

The Penwith Peninsula with its dramatic scenery of rugged moorland, granite cliffs overhanging spectacular beaches and seascapes presented natural views that many British artists were otherwise obliged to seek abroad. Indeed many of the artists who were to settle in the Newlyn area in increasing numbers had studied in France and Holland.

Just as Parisian artists had left the grime and grisaille of Paris in order to paint in the pure air and luminosity of Barbizon these British post-Impressionist painters 'en plein air' found that this region of Cornwall offered similar subject matter yet required considerably less travel, especially since the Great Western railway had linked Penzance to London in the latter part of the 19th century. The artist Stanhope Forbes  was to remark that "Newlyn is a sort of English Concarneau" and the initial artist group was to reach a high point in the years before the First World War.

Never  A Morning Wore to Evening. Walter Langley 1894

However, it was not merely the landscape that attracted the artists who made up the colony later called the Newlyn School. The artists all shared a desire to study and portray the lives of these fishing and farming communities which had changed little in spite of  the Industrial Revolution. Far from depicting glorified scenes of rural and sea-faring bliss the artists preferred to show the local colour in its true tones and moods. Indeed, these artists were 'tonists' rather than 'colourists' and their vision of life was realist rather than picturesque. While this may have led to works that focus on the dark hardships of such a life, other images were of a lighter note, in both in subject and palette.

A Fish Sale. Stanhope Forbes 1884

Walter Langley was one of the first visiting artists to finally settle in Newlyn and was later known as the 'Pioneer of the Newlyn Art Colony'. His artistic life was dominated by the themes of his childhood, from a family of eleven children living in the inner-city slums of Birmingham. Although illiterate, Langley's mother recognized the talent of her son and did her utmost to ensure that he could afford the studies at Birmingham School of Design. Having studied at the South Kensington Schools of Art he then returned to Birmingham to work as a lithographer, but turned to a career in painting in the hope of gaining commercial success. In an endeavour to obtain new painting opportunities Langley went briefly to Newlyn in1880. He was one of a small group to become Associate of the Royal Birmingham Society of Artists and returned to the Cornish Peninsula in 1881 with a major commission from the Birmingham patron Edwin Chamberlain, and received other significant commissions thereafter.

Study for A Fish Sale. Stanhope Forbes 1884

Langley never forgot his humble beginnings, indeed far from it. He said of his work that it "reflects the
concern for the persistent hardship faced by the poor" and not surprisingly his political leanings were markedly Left wing. He felt empathy and sympathy for the communities around him and had a particular sensitivity for the womenfolk who, like his own mother, suffered so much hardship. Dramatic works such as 'Never a Morning wore to Evening but some Heart did Break'
show the tragedy often visited on such communities....
By 1883 there were several more artists in the Newlyn colony but it was with the arrival of Stanhope Forbes 'Father of the Newlyn School' in 1884 that the group truly took form and gained recognition. Exhibited at the Royal Academy, Forbes' first Newlyn painting met significant success and this incited other artists to settle in Cornwall.

For Such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Frank Bramley 1891

Frank Bramley arrived at the same period as Forbes and his work likewise received great acclaim.
Other artists established themselves but chose to settle in St Ives, Lelant, Falmouth rather than in Newlyn itself. Little by little the early artistic colony declined somewhat and in 1899 Stanhope Forbes and his wife, Elizabeth, founded an art establishment, the Newlyn School of Painting. It was around this time that Norman Garstin produced his famous work 'The Rain it Raineth'.

The Rain in Raineth. Norman Garstin 1889.

The school of painting drew in another generation of artists to Newlyn, Dod and Ernest Procter being among them, but also Laura  and Harold Knight and Frank Gascoigne Heath. Thus the Newlyn artistic community adapted itself to a new century and new artistic endeavours, whilst retaining an essential luminosity and mood.

http://www.penleehouse.org.uk/artists/harold-knight.html

 Here's some music by Brenda Wootton, a Cornish folksinger who had a certain success here in France...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCihuVJWRj8&feature=related

 And here's another for anyone here in France with Breton links....
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vwk0MXnA-Vg&feature=related

Mousehole.

Toadstools and trenches...

 Looking for mushrooms this summer in the forest of the Argonne I seemed to come across many different unexpected things, but very few actual mushrooms.

  The few that were found had already been visited by marauding slugs, of which there were large numbers, all of a uniform striking rusty orange colour, like discarded bits of plastic.

 However the toadstools I came across, along with less edible mushrooms were so decorative that it was more interesting just looking at them, rather than endlessly looking for them on the forest floor - I was certainly lacking the skill and patience for that...

 Some forms looked like strange lava hooves...



























Others like puffballs, ready to split their crackled suede coverings...

 While certain ones ressembled marrow bone....
Some looked tauntingly edible...others less so.

The Argonne "Pays du bois" is situated in north-eastern France, over three départements, the Ardennes, the Marne and the Meuse. Its capital is Sainte-Ménehould - whose culinary speciality is a dish based on pigs' trotters. The Argonne forms a natural barrier between the Champagne region and that of the Lorraine, a geographical element that was to play a vital part in the history of this region.

 The area covers 40 miles in length and 10 miles in width mostly with hilly, densely vegetated land. The massif is not especially high in altitude, even at its more extreme points, yet the land is notably criss-crossed by water courses and runnels, along with the Aire and Aisne rivers.

 The geological composition of the massif is constituted of gaize, which is a relatively rare granular, porous siliceous rock, formed 100 million years from the sea bed, and is to be found here in France, Britain and Japan. The resulting landscape is varied, for while the eastern part of the Argonne is marked by ravines and deep gorges and buttes, the west offers gentler slopes that blend into the Champagne plain on the axis centred between Sainte-Ménehould and Vouziers.

 The particularity of the topography tended to limit the size of  the population, and offered only meagre industry, yet the Argonne was to gain a unique place in history due to the monumental events that took place there over the centuries. Indeed, it was to strike a specific note in the foundation of the French Revolution at the end of the 18th century and then become the backdrop to the scenes of unprecedented carnage in the Great War, assuming an international notoreity. In both of these historical landmarks the town of Varennes-en-Argonne and the surrounding area were the set for action. It was here that the king, Louis XVI, was arrrested along with other members of the royal family in 1791 as they all attempted to flee abroad to escape widespread civil discontent. Positioned near the front during the First World War Varenne was to be occupied by German troups and was virtually decimated due to French bombing missions. However, contrary to many other villages of the Argonne which were obliterated, leaving simply the trace of a name, outlines on a map, oppressive wartime images on postcards, Varenne was to survive the violence of the war, pulling through four years of heavy attacks, to be finally rebuilt.

In the woods today, paths lead through tranquill, well-maintained wooded land and there appears to be little to suggest that this landscape could have witnessed such inhumane, human activity. And yet on closer inspection, the signs are still there... What I took to be gentle banks, odds dips and rises on the woodland floor, carpetted with dead leaves and bright ferns and bracken, were in fact the marks of trench action, obus explosions and proof of the displacement of huge clods of soil, ripped from ground under attack.

What has now been clothed in peaceful greenery and animated by all sorts of creatures, great and small, was once a raw wound, gashed into the land. The men therein, German and French alike, were transformed into scrabbling insects, desperate to resurface, scurry from this hell-hole, alive, albeit scarred for life. I found what I thought was part of a large collapsed badger sett, and just as I was wondering if a man could fit into such a hole, I realised that it had indeed been destined for human use, offering shelter, of sorts, to men reduced to a state of bestial survival.

 There are, of course, other more obvious traces of war, with the officers' mess - kronprintz shelter - set into hollows; a strange glimpse of man's attempt to maintain more 'civilised' conditions for the lucky few.... In a war that lasted so long, punctuated by so many battles between 1914-1918, there could be no real winners - each nation left this carnage horrifically wounded. The aim of the German general von Falkenhayn during the battle of Verdun had indeed been to "bleed the French army white", yet little did he suspect, perhaps, that the losses sustained by his troups would be so heavy in such a short space of time (Feb-Dec 1916).

 In this context, the symbolic red poppy, emblem of a lost generation and ironically growing with such vigor in the mangled, blood-stained grounds of the battlefield seems even more striking. The Great War was to be the first where artillery would cause such utter devastation and that combined with the specifities of natural landscape lead to the creation of apocalpytic scenes on such an unnatural scale.

 Dense forest conditions meant that visibility and movement were severely hampered and consequently military tactics and engineering had to adapt to meet requirements. Modest paths through woodland proved inadequate for the mass displacement of troups and demanded extensive work before they would allow for the passage of military vehicules.

 The First World War was to be a war led by advances in explosive devices of all kinds. Grenades, shells and mines tore up land and man alike, while the newly-developed machinegun cut down whole swathes of troups. A generation of men was soon transformed into 'canon fodder'. Advances in chemical warfare led to the use of toxic gases, above all perhaps the infamous blinding Mustard Gas (Ypérite), incapacitating and smoking out soldiers from their positions, like cornered rats.

 Trenches carved into the landscape were soon transformed into quagmires, with both sides occupying a territory of reduced size, often even sharing the same passages, relying on the siege technique of the sap in order to take possession of enemy positions.

 Burrowed trenches and muddy, lunar landscapes were framed and demarcated by barbed wire, strewn like crazy metal tumbleweed whilst the rare intact tree that remained standing only served to underline the brutality of the situation. The final scene of the 1930 film, All Quiet on the Western Front, based on Erich Maria Remarque's book published in 1929 (banned and burnt in Nazi Germany, as was its sequel, The Road Back) reflects the monstrous incongruity of this war, pitting man against man, pitting man against humanity. Here is the last scene of the film with the moving 'butterfly' sequence...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMlDPsRwZE4
Evidence of the consequent devastation and desolation visited on the region is plainly visible at the Butte de Vauquois, near Varenne. Huge funnel-shaped craters hacked up the land, whilst below the surface, galeries were dug into the butte by both sides, carving the much-coveted strategic point into a diabolical molehill, loaded with explosives to force the enemy to capitulate.

The picture is taken from Adolf Buchners' book "The Battle Of Vauquois", ISBN 3-9800750-4-4.

The Battle of Vauquois was one of the longest of the Great War, however there is a long litany of names that we associate with these four long years, some strangely pitturesque, others more somber...Chemin des Dames, Voie Sacrée, Douaumont and Tranchée des Baionnettes. Nevertheless it is often Verdun that comes to mind, with its horror captured on black and white images that seem burned onto our retinas. Sadly, the Great War was not to be 'the war to end all wars', as is said in the opening scenes of the 1979 version of All Quiet on the Western Front.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DX1PW2n8POg&feature=related
The First World War was precisely that, the first, the precursor to another, and whilst one generation of men was indeed lost in its prime, it left brothers and boys in its wake who would be grow up sufficiently simply to be slaughtered in World War II, barely twenty years later. Tragically, or perhaps mercifully, the second generation had little idea of this. It was this cruel twist of fate that is so poignant, its full impact demonstrated in Vera Brittain's A Testament of Youth. I watched the TV adaptation of the book when I was a teenager, and here is a beautiful clip created by someone else who was moved by the series...
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSz8c5E4zH4
Yet despite the depressing reality of the continual need for war, the vulnerability of man often so closely linked to his brutality, I would like to remain positive in the beauty of nature, and the nature of man. Of the famous Great War poem, In Flanders Fields, from a 1919 collection of poems by John McCrae, I would maybe change the last verse, so that the torch for war is simply taken up as the flame of Life. Although all the soldiers made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve the life of their country, too many men died on both sides of a war that nobody won, creating a void, a no man's land in humanity.
  
In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

Peacock iridescence to be proud of...

Breast feathers

With its apparently simple form given an incredible depth and complexity through its iridescent colours, little can equal the peacock feather. I can't think of anything, apart from butterfly wings for the same reasons surely, that fascinate as much as these majestic miracles of nature. The ever-changing colours add varying dimensions that seem to alter the flat plane, and provide convex and concave impressions to the surface of each peacock 'eye'.









These same eyes that have mesmerized man over the centuries have given arise to innumerable myths and have been taken as the symbol for many differing elements in spiritual, physical and social dimensions thus creating another impression of shifting and shimmering.

Italian school - late 15th century.

In Greco-Roman mythology the peacock was created after Hera/Juno tried to curtail the strutting infidelities of her husband Zeus/Jupiter. The rightfully-jealous wife set the hundred-eyed Argus to guard over her husband's intended lover, Io, who had been (unsuccessfully) disguised as a heffer. Despite his watchful gaze over his charge Io, the all-seeing Argus Panoptes was lulled to sleep by Hermes/Mercury on Zeus' command and was then beheaded.

On seeing this, the distraught Hera took the hundred eyes of the guard and placed them on the train of her favourite bird, the peacock. In Christianity this bird symbolized a church that is all-seeing, offering redemption and sanctity and peacocks often appeared among the stable animals in scenes of the Nativity. In certain Mediterranean countries meanwhile the peacock represented the Evil Eye and as such was most inauspicious...

Peahen feathers

Feathers of colours that seem to quiver and taunt us seem to be very far-removed from those of other members of this bird group - the Galliformes - which also includes pheasants and turkeys. While they have a more modest plumage, turkeys too perform fan-tail quivering gestures and rituals not so unlike the displays of the peafowl, and both varieties of bird look a little less majestic when observed from behind!
However the iridescence of the peacock is unique - even the more sophisicated pheasant feathers seem rather dull in comparison. As light encounters the nano-structure of the feather barbules the effect is dazzling and misleading - creating an optical illusion of simultaneous distance and vicinity. Beyond the Classical mythological associations it must have been this fluidity, evasiveness and brilliance that attracted many artitsts to portray the peacock.

The Peacock Skirt - Aubrey Beardsley 1894

The majestic fan is thus used in courtship displays to attract females to the holder of the most resplendent, dense array of feathers. It would seem rather strange that this cumbersome train could meet the criteria for the suitability of a male and mate, yet the peacock is not the only bird to perform elaborate courtship displays and to bear the equipment to do so with. Although the peacock is one of the exceptions in the Galliforme family since it can fly, its flight is a little limited yet enables it to roost in the tree tops at night to avoid falling prey to predators. While the peahen does not offer the same wealth of plumage, the feathers have their own subtle beauty and enable the female to remain under camouflage when she broods and raises her young in the undergrowth on the ground. The calls of male and female are both very distinctive yet different from each other - the peacock offering a cat-like cry, while the hen responds with a barking type. The reproduction period coincides with the rain season in Asian countries, when the heart-stopping calls sound out day and night, yet the peacock is said to become restless before any rainfall. It is little surprise then that peafowl make an excellent guard, ready to denounce any intruder and that they initially adorned the gardens and grounds of temples, palaces and opulent homes in India and South-east Asia. In distant Babylon the peacock was a sign of royalty whilst the Kingdom of Persia was refered to as the Peacock Throne. Nevertheless, over the centuries the peacock has been somewhat democratised and can now be found ambling around garden centres and farms, maybe a little crest-fallen, but just as beautiful.

Doulton peacocks in the Food Hall - Harrods.

As my fingers and eyes burn every time I see a peacock feather, I have always gathered ones of different shapes and dimensions, trying not to be deterred in my hoarding mission by feather allergies and then the dreaded 'Woolly bear' larvae of the carpet beetle that literally reduces my feather treasures to shreds, filaments and dust! Above is a collection of tiny feathers from the neck of a bird (they had been discarded during a moult - I didn't throttle the poor creature, honestly!) and some from the lower-back region. In fact the peacock moults at the end of each summer, thus growing back a full plumage and doesn't attain an adult size and maturity until after three years of age. This very real yearly moult accompanied by the rather dubious legend that peacock flesh was pure and could not decay led to the peacock being taken as a symbol of ressurection and incorruptibility of the soul. Indeed, two peacocks drinking from a chalice are often used to represent rebirth and purity. It is said that the oath 'By the Peacock' was used to conjure the power of ressurection, like the powers of the phoenix. Peacock blood  was considered to have the power to remove evil spirits and to neutralize serpent's venom, transforming it into 'solar iridescence' to illuminate his fan tail. The feathers themselves were associated with the experiments of alchemists as they strove to turn base metal into resplendent gold.

Indian fan

The Peacock complaining to Juno  - Gustave Moreau 1881

Even though the peacock is often used as a symbol of fidelity and is said to be bereft when it loses a mate, polygamy is the rule of the roost, with the strutting male preferring to have several obliging females under his wing. Doted with such great beauty it would perhaps be  expecting too much to imagine the peacock faithful too! Incidentally, the Latin name Pavo Cristatus is the origin of the French verb - se pavaner - meaning to strut around in a showy manner. La Pavane was a type of dance in the 16th century, performed in duo, yet with the male occupying a fairly modest role!

In Aesop's fables the pride and vanity of the peacock were to be at the heart of the bird's perpetual dissatisfaction. Envying the plumage and song of other birds, the peacock complained to Juno who finally decked him out in the feathery finery for which he is renowned today. However, seeing an eagle flying high while he was land-bound like a mere quail, the peacock lamented his lot, only to learn that you should not sacrifice your freedom for pomp and show. How sad that the poor peacock has to rely on the gaze of his partners' and rivals' eyes to feel the full measure of his beauty - he can't even see his own worth - but that idea really is getting too anthropomorphic...

Serpent staffs, snaky goddesses and serpentine labyrinths...

Caduceus - Façade in Reims

Most of the interesting features of the older buildings here seem to be well-above eye level and so a large majority escape our attention. I was waiting for the bus this winter, and looked up to come across this detail in the town centre, adorning the façade of one of the first department stores here - one of the four Docks Rémois, this one built between 1924-1928 by Pol Gosset.

The detail in question is that of the Caduceus - the herald's staff with two intertwined snakes which I initially took to be a variation of the snake-and-rod emblem, symbol of medicine. This duality of association seems to reoccur in much of the symbolism concerning the snake - the most well-known in Christianity, is of course that of the snake in the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden linked to the pre-lapsian state of innocence and the fall. However, this was certainly not the first split association/split image. Indeed the snake, dual or solitary is seen in many cultures - one of the oldest double-serpent images represents the ancient Sumerian deity Ningizzida.

The Sumerian Ningizzida

The winged double-snake Caduceus was the staff carried by Hermes, the messenger god in Greek mythology depicted in the Odyssey. Isis, divine messenger to Hera portrayed in the Iliad, also bore the Caduceus and herself was the symbol of dualism as she linked the gods to humanity, criss-crossing the ends of the world, the depths of the seas and the Underworld. However, it was with the Roman god Mercury that the staff took on further meaning. Bearing the staff in his left hand Mercury acted as guide to a somewhat motley crew - shepherds, gamblers, liars and thieves being just a few examples...

The snake-entwined staff thus symbol of Hermes/Mercury was used to represent many trades, occupations and actitivities associated with the gods and with the notion of commerce in general. It is in this latter capacity that we see the Caduceus on many commercial buildings - here in Reims, the building later became the main office of the local newspaper - again in keeping with the symbol which also represented the art of printing.

Caduceus detail - The Louvre - Paris.

A single-snake, wing-less staff is very familiar to us even today, although it has a quite different symbolism to that of the dual snake. Indeed, the two have often been confused as the Caduceus has been used by the U.S  Medical Corps on its insignia. The single-snake form - the rod of Asklepius - is the ancient symbol of the Greek god of that name. Son of Apollo and deified practitioner of medicine, worshipped by Hippocrates himself, his rod was thus associated with all medical issues and healing. The single-serpent figure reflected the duality of medicine with its capacity to both heal or harm, its 'bite' offering both life or death. The very word pharmakon demonstrates this since it could be interpreted in Greek as meaning both healing drug or lethal poison. Asclepius had learnt the secret of preserving life through watching serpents healing each other with medicinal plants, but he was later to be killed by Zeus who did not wish mere mankind to become immortal like the gods. In the Bible, the serpent 's role as healer, bringer or harbinger of death is seen in the Book of Numbers with the image of a serpent wound around a pole, erected  by Moses on God's command to heal ...
"Make thee a fiery serpent and set it on a pole; and it shall come to pass that every one bitten when he looketh at it shall live".

Double-serpent feature - door handle - Reims.

The snake had a vital role in the mythology of Ancient Egypt where serpent imagery and deified snakes abound, reflecting the process of life, death and finally immortality. Wadjet the cobra was the protectress and patron of much of Egypt, its deities and pharoahs. Wadjet's image surmounting the sun disk, uraeus, was the symbol on the crown of rulers. It is thought that this rich Egyptian mythology heavily influenced aspects of the subsequent Minoan culture of Crete which flourished between approximately 3000 - 1100 BC. The most renowned Minoan serpent image today is most certainly the Cretan Snake Priestess statuette (Heraklion Archaeological Museum).

Excavated at Knossos at the turn of the last century by British archaeologist, Arthur Evans, the small faience statue (38 centimetres tall) has led to huge speculation over the years with regard to its identity and exact significance. Since the Cretan alphabet has still to be deciphered there can be no recourse to written scripts to give a clearer understanding of many aspects of Minoan culture - above all, perhaps, the religious rites and beliefs. It is not known if the Snake Priestess statue indeed represents a veritable goddess or a priestess, although as it is a votive offering rather than a cult figure it is more likely to be a priestess. This statue was in fact one of three figures, brandishing snakes, and was surrounded by other religious objects scattered around. As the temple had been greatly damaged during the volcanic eruption of Thera and subsequent earthquakes in approximately 1500BC the reconstructed forms that we know today are based on Evans' speculations and are perhaps not as the originals would have been.

The Snake Priestess herself was found without her headdress and one of her arms, but in the debris certain remains were discovered and by deduction she was reassembled. Even if simply a priestess, the Cretan Snake Priestess is dressed as a deity. Her clothing is decorative and  provocative - the wasp-waisted bodice fully exposes and emphasizes the more-than-ample bust. This is completed by a heavily flounced skirt bearing patterns and sacred symbols and a pelmet focusing on the life-giving forms of the body. It is not sure if the animal form, thought to be a lion cub, that sits on the headdress was originally there, but it is believed to reflect the influence of Egyptian lionness crowns and headdresses. The poppy heads and and pomegranates that border the Cretan headdress are considered to be a reference to fertility and the opiates used in ceremonial practices. Her dark hair hangs long and loose down her back while her expression is transfixed as she stares in front of her, bearing the two snakes in her uplifted arms. It is a striking image - the symmetry of the arms, the geometrical forms of the clothing and the glassy regard leave a vivid impression.
Amid all this calculated guesswork and speculation regarding this particular female there seems little doubt that women in general were of extreme importance in Cretan society, culture and above all, religion. Women dominated the priesthood and in this matriarchal set-up the image of the Earth Goddess, representing fertility and the cycles of life and death was all-important. Like the snake, dual figure of mortality and immortality, rising from the fertile soil, the Earth goddess image seems to link the underworld and Earth.

Theseus fighting the Minotaur - J.E Ramey. 1826. Paris

Women priestresses performed many religious rituals, including sacrifice, often using the Labrys - the double-headed axe. The labrys was the emblem of Royal power and women's importance and its bilateral form referred to the butterfly, itself symbol of the ressurection of the soul. The labyrinth is thought to mean 'place of the labrys', where ceremonial dances and rituals were performed on a unicursal track that induced a comtemplative spiritual state. Like a bee-dance, the labyrinth is believed to have led worshippers to carry out intricate steps and patterns in order to reach an awakened spiritual destination.

Theseus fighting the Minotaur - Ramey. 

Although the vast palace of Knossos was initially thought to have been the site of the original labyrinth of mythology, designed by Daedalus, that theory is now discredited. Born to Mino's wife, Pasiphaë, as punishment for the king's own dishonesty and thirst for power, the half-man, half-bull Minotaur was hidden away in the labyrinth where it lived off human flesh. The cunning Athenian hero, Theseus, aided by his lover Ariadne, finally slaughtered the Minotaur and freed the labyrinth of its resident beast. Even if the labyrinth and its monstrous inhabitant did not actually occupy the palace of Knossos,  the importance of the bull in Minoan culture appears undeniable.

Emblem of the sun and symbol of Zeus, the bull is depicted in many of the artifacts that have survived. The bull would be worshipped, revered, used in bull-dancing and bull-leaping demonstrations and finally sacrificed - with the women and more specifically priestesses, of course, playing a vital role in these ceremonies...

Bull-jumping fresco - Palace of Knossos - Crete

Finally, no duality here, but simply one of the labyrinth drawings by my son who creates fantastic forms and yet receives very little encouragement with his artistic endeavours.

An amazing maze by my son...

Please, any ideas how he could get his work recognized? He was only 13 years old when he drew this piece - so he's got huge (untapped) talent... Any suggestions?

An amazing portrait.