Featured Work

  • Penelope Waiting by Randy Sprout

    28X18 Etching on Copper Plate. This took me almost a year to make.

  • Entropy by pauldrobertson

    Mixed media 140 cms… I am slowly letting go and being more… well less constrained I suppose. In this one I basically made most of it up as I went along. Well all of it. Really. Hm. There’s a bunch of stuff embedded in the paint – a small screwdriver, a disassembled bottle opener, 15 cents, a couple of pencils split in half, some nails and staples. I painted the shelves; the outside, first, then the figure, then the water, then the butterflies. I was hesitant about using butterflies as I did not and do not wish for this piece to be mistaken for FEMINIST art, as it COULD be read that way, if’n you really wanted to. There are all these jars and boxes… When I started I just looked around at the room I was in and at my desk. It is, eternally, a mess, of course. Well I mean I AM an artist, I don’t want to disappoint the stereotype since I conform to it involuntarily in so many, many other ways. Hm I had better go and get it and look at it while I am writing this. OK well that isn’t really helping much, here’s a detail: / / From left to right, it starts with 15 cents, then there’s a little bell, and a rough drawing of a girl’s, a child’s, dress. Then the poetry starts. I’ll get into that in a minute. Right yeah, hm, a couple of candles, a jar and some scissors. Then there is the staff of Aesculapius – symbol of medicine and healing and stuff. To the left of this u can just make out the bits of screwdriver :) A spider, drawn/painted nails to go with the real ones, disembodied hands and fore-arms raised in defense; a cup that I was drinking out of and copied directly into the piece (It has always been a hazard to have turpentine and coffee on the same table whilst painting, and one that i have fallen prey to many times, spitting turp’s all over my paintings on occasion.) Playing cards – a joker and an ace, and there was a queen of hearts there but I painted over it with the border-type-thing. I was going to use real cards but kind of finished the piece before I made it to a news agent to get any. Lastly at the bottom you can see bits of the bottle opener that I stuck in there and half a pencil. Also news agents freak me out because they always have people buying lottery tickets and the saying that I have for that particular contemporary fascination is: LOTTO IS A TAX ON PEOPLE WHO CAN’T DO MATH’S. / / AND on the RIGHT SIDE.. / / / There’s a jar with TEETH written across it, but I thought that may be a little gross so I made it more difficult to read and subtle-ish. Then a jar of memory. Boxes, some stuff that may or may not be books – they are books I just didn’t do that very clearly. Then a big tin of paint, and over that there is the other side of the bottle opener that I pulled apart and stuck on. Also there are two of the three not-really-feminist-issue butterflies in boxes. The reason I think that it could easily be taken that way is because there is a pretty girl lying on a bed alongside them, and hey they ARE in boxes and presumably DEAD, so it would be easy to see that I am pointing out the similarity in the objectification of women and the collecting of dead butterflies killed with formaldehyde and put on display. Only I’m not. / / / / Now that I think about it, I should have added two ravens… Hugin and Munin were Odin’s ravens, “thought” and “memory.” Oh well put it on the shelf for later with all that stuff that I painted this time. Going through each symbol would take me a looong time and I sincerely doubt that anyone would read it ALL, though you never know I suppose. They kind of add up to a dream world of memory and experience, tainted and held by time in its nasty little claws. As we all are. Don’t forget. It is my deepest ambition to spend each slippery moment as aware as I can be, as ANYONE ever WAS that it is my own responsibility to live as well as hope can imagine, to exploit and immerse myself in life, in time itself. I hold this ambition above any other, it is a continually replicating theme in my work. These seconds and hours and days and weeks are by their very nature, by each shred of perception that we have, FINITE, they WILL end, we WILL die. This irrefutability in itself defines the necessity of this need: THE FACT THAT TIME PASSES, THAT WE WILL DIE, MAKES THE MOMENTS THAT WE HAVE INFINITELY MORE PRECIOUS. There is an end to it all, no matter what beliefs we hold on to with our last thoughts and slur with our guttering breath. We cannot begin to imagine eternity, we just can’t, nothing in our experience can show us a glimpse of what that could mean – how can we believe in something that we don’t even have the beginnings of the capacity to imagine? That we have a place in it? “And time sickens me. Moments make me wretch with what they are, with their absolute sacrosanct inevitability. Make holes in the burning heart of God. As I continue to live and rip through time like particles being torn to pieces on the edges of a black hole. Shining with their last light, exploding outwards as they die. I feel like this. / Tearing ourselves to pieces as we shine bright enough to scald our own eyes, extant awareness of the trap of atrophy that will swing us back to pain always, always. It is not true that what goes up must come down. It is true that a sine curve is forced upon us by the nature of life, of the universe. For every spike of brilliant brightness there WILL be an equal part, a disease of equality. / Wish Wish wish. Pray into the infinite dark, hold onto the sides of your mind and DON’T FUCKING SLIP. Some fissure in the void. Some smoke from the burning slide. “ Hm um you see, well, I have really tried to look into this, spending the moments examining moments. / This kind of sums it all up… “In spacetime, everything which for us constitutes the past, the present and the future is given en bloc… Each observer, as his time passes, discovers, so to speak, new slices of spacetime which appear to him as successive aspects of the material world, though in reality, the ensemble of events constituting spacetime exist prior to his knowledge of them” / Louis de Broglie, physicist Which pretty much means that our perception of time is actually all an illusion, yeah I KNOW I wasn’t surprised either. Though since it is very difficult to actually prove that we exist at all anyway, or more specifically that anyone else exists or anything else apart from our thoughts (cogito ergo sum, I think therefore I am or as I prefer, I forget therefore I was, a little cup of Descartes anyone? with lemon?) I am considering becoming more of a cynic, I don’t think that I doubt enough. A final Quote: in the Sanskrit epic the GITA, a mortal ARJUNA confronts God (KRISHNA) not as a creator but as a destroyer. Shaken, he asks of this dark god the question: / “Tell me who you are” / And receives the answer: / “I am come as time, the waster of the peoples. / Ready for the hour that ripens to their ruin.” AND HERE’S THE MIDDLE BIT: / / / / SHE IS DREAMING OF COURSE. But everyone probably got that part huh? / / / The poetry in the piece is plucked from a variety of poems that I have written, and the lines are meant to be taken in the context of the images that surround them, not as a whole… this is the poem that most of it comes from: Sarcasm is its own reward. / With a feel for illusions and allusions there’s only one bone picker on the farm. / Give me a chance and I’ll tell you how to lose, / how to become whatever it happens you mostly revile when you’re alone / and trying quietude for an experiment. / Bones on the outside, like insects, sure. / There is no way out of this, this is stuck-dom, stuck-ville, / stuck-o-later time, / for Christ’s sake give me a plate full of ashes / and a smothered wreathe and why don’t you ask me one more time, I’ll find the right way to say it. / Ask me again. I’ll say the same thing in a different way and on the couch this time in the night, / singing softly and whispering into my hair. / I’ll show you my teeth and you can twist hairs on my arm so that you know that I know that you’re there. / Wishing for time to see, lips curled like paper on a fire, / man that’s not the world shaking – that’s just you. I love it when ads for colour fade. / Lifting up in quiet suspension and Christ did you see that guy’s fucking NECK? / Offer me a corner in the parlour with soft wrapping on the outside, / lights and stretched skin, translucent like / grass on a spring afternoon only skin, not grass. Offer me this and a few more and ask me again. / This time I’ll tell you a story with highlights in pink / and we’ll both fall backwards laughing into summer with our arms full of flowers clutched a little too tightly. Soft cheek carved into light smell of cigarettes and warm wine, / - tolerance and conviction clean into pure water, sure, in the morning? / Their love story, it’s famous, a princess at Christmas-time, / iron that’s pitted and scarred and cool and heavy in your hand. / Walking on the beach muttering vigorous, Clothos and Lachesis separated by cloth-backed, dark books. / Trying again and so hard this time laced and buckled and arcane, / accentuated and caressed. Willed into existence with a strangled grasp. / Can’t fake anymore got my vices clamped up inside into bluff and hardness. / Can’t give can’t touch what’s inside me / not with these hands pushing against the sides. / In a grotesquery of pinched bones and drawing / tightness beating against my ribs like I’ve swallowed / a murder of crows an assassin of ravens or a murderer an assassin a juggler. / Ask Me / One More. / Time. / These streets that are really just snakes and fires like that are lies. / These worlds that hurt and are pins in flesh, like before. / This compassion. This fever. / This moment and fall. It’s happy only-after, gripped and cramped sucked kissed and choking. / In the moonlight with a pulse and a flower clinging to her skin. / Sleep with me. / Push my head to your chest so I can hear your heart / Cry in your sleep. / Breathe into my open mouth / These are the words that will not make love stay. (Atropos and Lachesies are two of the three fates in Greek mythology – their sister, clothos, is where we get the word cloth from. Lachesis was the spinner, Clothos the weaver, and Atropos cut the threads. The cloth was the world and the threads, mortals, titans and gods. Even the gods were subject to the warp and weft of their loom. Man God or Titan Atropos’ scissors stopped ended the colour and twist of any thread.)

  • Lakheses 'Apportioner of Lots' by kathleen

    Detail of Fresco Moirae Thanatoeo / THE MOIRAI (or Moirae) were the goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man. They assinged to every person his or her fate or share in the scheme of things. Their name means “Parts.” “Shares” or “Alottted Portions.” Zeus Moiragetes, the god of fate, was their leader,. / Klotho, whose name meant ‘Spinner’, spinned the thread of life. Lakhesis, whose name meant ‘Apportioner of Lots’-being derived from a word meaning to receive by lot-, measured the thread of life. Atropos (or Aisa), whose name meant ‘She who cannot be turned’, cut the thread of life. At the birth of a man, the Moirai spinned out the thread of his future life, followed his steps, and directed the consequences of his actions according to the counsel of the gods. It was not an inflexible fate; Zeus, if he chose, had the power of saving even those who were already on the point of being seized by their fate. The Fates did not abruptly interfere in human affairs but availed themselves of intermediate causes, and determined the lot of mortals not absolutely, but only conditionally, even man himself, in his freedom was allowed to exercise a certain influence upon them. As man’s fate terminated at his death, the goddesses of fate become the goddesses of death, Moirai Thanatoio. / The Moirai were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction; and Zeus, as well as the other gods and man, had to submit to them. They assigned to the Erinyes, who inflicted the punishement for evil deeds, their proper functions; and with them they directed fate according to the laws of necessity. As goddesses of birth, who spinned the thread of life, and even prophesied the fate of the newly born, Eileithyia was their companion. As goddesses of fate they must necessarily have known the future, which at times they revealed, and were therefore prophetic deities. Their ministers were all the soothsayers and oracles. As goddesses of death, they appeared together with the Keres and the infernal Erinyes. The Moirai were described as ugly old women, sometimes lame. They were severe, inflexible and stern. Klotho carries a spindle or a roll (the book of ate), Lakhesis a staff with which she points to the horoscope on a globe, and Atropos a scroll, a wax tablet, a sundial, a pair of scales, or a cutting instrument. At other times the three were shown with staffs or sceptres, the symbols of dominion, and sometimes even with crowns. At the birth of each man they appeared spinning, measuring, and cutting the thread of life. The Romans called the goddess Parcae and named the three Nona, Decuma and Morta. / “source: www.theoi.com

  • Ariel by Thomas Dodd

    So if you’re downright disgusted and life has passed you by… / get a girl with far away eyes…. (perhaps I should stick to doing what I do best….)

  • Roman Mythology: Jupiter by Mariaan Krog

    Ruler of the Gods. He is the god of Sky, Lightning and Thunder. He is the son of Saturn and brother of Neptune, Pluto and Juno, who is also his wife. His attribute is the lightning bolt and his symbol the eagle, who is also his messenger. He was also considered the Patron god of Rome, and his temple was the official place of state business and sacrifices. Originated from the Greek god, Zeus. Medium: Watercolours on AMEDEO 200GSM Artist’s Sheet. / Size: A4 Copyright: Mariaan Krog 2008 /

  • Roman Mythology: Mercury by Mariaan Krog

    God of Trade, Profit, Merchants and Travellers. His main festival, the Mercuralia, was celebrated on May 15 and on this day the merchants sprinkled their heads and their merchandise with water from his well near the Porta Capena. The symbols of Mercury are the caduceus (a staff with two intertwined snakes) and a purse (a symbol of his connection with commerce). Originated from the Greek god, Hermes. Medium: Watercolours on AMEDEO 200GSM Artist’s Sheet. / Size: A4 Copyright: Mariaan Krog 2008 /

  • Greek God Janus by Jedika

    Pen on paper / 2006 / An improved resolution from the previous upload Sale made on September 26th 2008

  • Atlas by Jedika

    Pen on paper / 2007 / An improved resolution from the previous upload

  • Faunus by Ivy Izzard

    Painted using Photoshop and Corel Painter.

  • Charites: Spring by Ivy Izzard

    Charites (Χάριτες; Greek: “Graces”), goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. They ordinarily numbered three, from youngest to oldest: Aglaea (“Beauty”), Euphrosyne (“Mirth”), and Thalia (“Good Cheer”). Photo references by Chiaki and Ona

  • Persephone by JaneSaunders

    Oil on canvas 60X80cm. / Original painting sold.

  • sirenade mermaid by kathleen

    just a little something sweet…

Recent Work

  • The Siren Waits... by Thomas Dodd

    I shot this last week down in Florida with the very lovely Wendy Hanks as model… Sometimes you work with a model who is so perfect that nearly every picture is a “keeper” – Wendy was such a model and I hope that (despite our geographical distance) her and I work together again soon…

  • Erinyes: Winter by Ivy Izzard

    (Ἐρινύες-the angry ones) The Furies, in Greek Erinyes, or euphemistically Eumenides, were avenging spirits of retributive justice. Their names, when in course of time their number had come to be fixed as three, were Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone. Their task was to punish crimes not within the reach of human justice. - from Bulfinch’s Mythology They are not usually associated with winter although they have been known to cause violent snow-storms. Photo reference by Iardacil-stock / and cobweb-stock.

  • Ceres by misskitteh

    A gorgeous sculpture found in the gardens at Versailles. Ceres is the Roman name of Demeter, the Greek goddess of agriculture. She looked after the fields and crops. Ceres is part of an ancient myth that helps explain the cycles of seasonal change.

  • Writing

    Solstice Vigil…The upcoming solstice for the Northern Hemisphere takes place December 21 at 7:04 a.m. and for the Southern Hemisphere, it’s your summer …

    The upcoming solstice for the Northern Hemisphere takes place December 21 at 7:04 a.m. and for the Southern Hemisphere, it’s your summer solstice. If they celebrate it, with few exceptions most people celebrate Christmas on December 25. Rather than spend money and waste time on procuring the commercial trappings the corporate media and retail industry declare essential for demonstrating love for one another, we’re all choosing to focus on what’s happening right now. As the solstice occurs I’m going to be focusing on the meaning and intention of the following blessing. It would be wonderful if, as the solstice occurs in your area, those who read this pause a moment or longer to do the same. Doing so will be a wave of Light surging around this Earth we share. I hope you will join me. “May all hearts and minds unfurl, open and prepare to receive and embrace the angel’s message. May we all allow its grace to permeate and saturate both individual and our collective being with eternal, pure light. Like a precious, faceted gem and its sparkle, may humanity become one in the intention and manifestation of unified harmony with one another, earth, and all that dwells upon her.” Over the past few years people of my acquaintance have been phasing out the commercial aspects of holidays. Whatever their spiritual path, they’ve had enough of consumer gluttony that has become Christmas. Think of the man trampled to death in a recent Wal Mart stampede (limited number of discounted televisions, hurry!). We are declaring “Enough” and celebrating in ways meaningful and holy on our own terms. This holiday my entire family and many friends have declared no gift – giving, partly due to holiday overkill and partly to the economy. Children will receive gifts but not the cornucopia of crap as in previous years, most of which end up in landfills within 2 years or so. In my home we’ll have a selection of favorite films like the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Secret of Roan Inish and A Christmas Carol. There will be good food, a fire in the fireplace and candles to honor the return of the Light. We’ll go for a long walk in the woods and come back to warm house and spiced wine. Play cards and lay around thumbing through books. Moving in harmony with the seasons makes this an ideal time for the inward/outward journey, the short days and long nights is the time of introspection and awareness. In keeping with the season it’s an ideal time for celebrating an inner Christmas of the spirit. This is a traditional time for savoring life and focusing on what’s really important. In ancient Rome this was called the Saturnalia and was a time for festivals, costumes, gift giving, feasting, and celebrations. This site has some interesting information about the solstice: http://www.timeanddate.com/calendar/december-solstice-customs.html

  • Roman mosaic of Bacchus by cascoly

    Roman mosaic of Bacchus, god of wine , Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

  • Aphrodite [Venus] by cascoly

    Aphrodite [Venus] statue found at Perge, Archaeology Museum Antalya, Middle East, Turkey

  • Hephaistos by Ivy Izzard

    Ἥφαιστος: the god of technology, blacksmiths, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metals, metallurgy, fire and volcanoes. To Hephaistos, Fumigation from Frankincense and Manna. Strong, mighty Hephaistos, bearing splendid light, unwearied fire, with flaming torrents bright : strong-handed, deathless, and of art divine, pure element, a portion of the world is thine : all-taming artist, all-diffusive power, ‘tis thine, supreme, all substance to devour : aither, sun, moon, and stars, light pure and clear, for these thy lucid parts [of fire] to men appear. To thee all dwellings, cities, tribes belong, diffused through mortal bodies, rich and strong. Hear, blessed power, to holy rites incline, and all propitious on the incense shine : suppress the rage of fire’s unwearied frame, and still preserve our nature’s vital flame. / Orphic Hymn 66 to Hephaestus (trans. Taylor) (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.) Photo reference by armathor-stock More Olympians / / / / /

  • God Of Time by Elena Ray

    Man with sundial. Photo based mixed medium image.

  • The Litae by David Lade

    Clematis aristata is an Australian climbing plant found in the forests of the eastern states. When this was taken it was pouring – rain all over the camera and lens! In the gloom these three good spirits were nicely aligned and oblivious to the turmoil around them. The Litae were the daughters of Eris and Zeus and sisters of Ate. After Zeus cast Ate to earth from Mt. Olympus, she wandered around, causing mischief. The Litae trailed behind her, doing their best to fix the problems she created – Greek mythology.

  • Penelope Waiting by Randy Sprout

    28X18 Etching on Copper Plate. This took me almost a year to make.

  • Boreas by marksatchwillart

    ACEO, 2.5×3.5 inches, watercolour and gouache, 2008. Boreas was the god of the north wind and bringer of winter in greek mythology. He was one of the Anemoi, the gods of the winds, whose parents were Eos and Astraios (the dawn and dusk gods). He was strong and bad tempered. He fell in love with an Athenian princess, Oreithyia, but after refusing his advances, he kidnapped her by wrapping her up in a cloud and whisking her away, raping her and fathering four children by her.

  • Zephyrus by marksatchwillart

    ACEO, 2.5×3.5 inches, watercolour and gouache , 2008. / Zephyrus was another of the Anemoi, the God of the gentle west wind, brother of Boreas. He was known as the messenger of spring. In one story, he and Apollo vied for the love of a handsome Spartan youth, Hyacinth. Hyacinth chose Apollo, which made Zephyrus mad with jealousy. He later found them playing with a discus, and blew a gust of wind that caused the discus to hit Hyacinth in the head and kill him. Apollo then created the hyacinth flower from his blood

About This Group

For art, writing and musings inspired by and/or incorporating themes from ancient Greece and Roman Myth.

Work submitted by this group should illustrate a the myth or story or depict the spirits and gods and goddesses typical of the stories…

  1. please do not submit photos of ruins of these places unless their is specific mention to the deity that was worshiped there or something specific about it’s mythological (religious) foundation.
  1. please do not submit photos of statues without stating their deities’ names or something specific about it’s mythological (religious) foundation.
  1. please limit the above to the MYTHOLOGICAL and spiritual side of Greece and Rome… this group is for the gods and goddesses, perhaps some demi-gods, but it is not for archaeological perspectives of ancient Greek and/or Roman society and civilisation.

One of my absolute favourite things in the Universe to escape to…

I know there are heaps of people inspired by the ancient muses… a place to travel WAY back in time…

See the group rules and join this group here

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