I decided to glue shells of various types to a Greek-style statue. Stylistically, the finished result reminds me of ornamentation found in Greek, Roman, and Baroque Grottoes.
The finished result also reminds me of a day trip I took to Cape Sounion’s Temple of Poseidon, 43 miles from Athens, Greece. In that rugged and rough-textured place, the temple’s Doric columns of marble still seem to serve as a clarion call.
How is that temple calling to me? Is it the unapologetic pursuit of beauty and classical proportion there or the setting itself? In my mind’s eye, I am able to visualize Homer’s odyssey around the blue Aegean, Cape Sounion’s crags, and the surrounding fertile hills. Or is my hearing an ancient call connected to Poseidon, god of the sea and earthquakes and horses? As I age, I notice that I am drawn to the sea, its eternal rhythms, colors, and shells. Or could that call be connected to creative destruction? Is that behind Poseidon’s pull for me?
Photos from Wikipedia courtesy of Alan Carr and A. Savin