Jussslic
25-02-2012, 01:26 AM
Hey all!
So, I was initially gonna do something from the Bioshock 2 art book, but I decided it'd be a lot more fun to try and tackle something a little bit more obscure.
I've always felt that some of the greatest stories ever told are buried deep in the heart of Greek mythology, and the Calydonian boar hunt (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calydonian_Boar) inspires all kinds of awesome imagery for me.
Probably the most complete version is in Ovid's Metamorphoses (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/26073/26073-h/Met_VIII-XI.html#bookVIII_fableIV), but Homer also uses it in the Iliad when Achilles must be convinced to sail with the Greeks.
Since it's a 2 month challenge I'm gonna get super ambitious and really go for it. I'll focus on the pivotal scene where the huntress Atalanta draws first blood, injuring the boar with an arrow.
Here are some of the passages in Ovid that I'll try to draw from:
His eyes shine with blood and flames, his rough neck is stiff; bristles too stand up like spikes, thickly set; like palisades do those bristles project. Boiling foam, with a harsh noise, flows down his broad shoulders; his tusks rival the tusks of India. Thunders issue from his mouth; the foliage is burnt up with the blast. One while he tramples down the corn in the growing blade, and crops the expectations of the husbandman, doomed to lament, as yet unripe, and he intercepts the corn in the ear. In vain does the threshing floor, and in vain do the barns await the promised harvest. The heavy grapes, with the long branches of the vine, are scattered about, and the berries with the boughs of the ever-green olive. He vents his fury, too, upon the flocks. These, neither dogs nor shepherds can protect; not even the fierce bulls are able to defend the herds. The people fly in all directions, and do not consider themselves safe, but in the walls of a city, until Meleager, and, together with him, a choice body of youths, unite from a desire for fame.
A wood, thick with trees, which no age has cut down, rises from a plain...
Atalanta, the glory of the Lycæan groves. A polished buckle fastened the top of her robe; her plain hair was gathered into a single knot. The ivory keeper of her weapons rattled, hanging from her left shoulder; her left hand, too, held a bow. Such was her dress, and her face such as you might say, with reason, was that of a maid in a boy, that of a boy in a maid. Her the Calydonian hero both beheld, and at the same moment sighed for her, against the will of the God; and he caught the latent flame, and said, “Oh, happy will he be, if she shall vouchsafe to make any one her husband.” The occasion and propriety allow him to say no more; the greater deeds of the mighty contest now engage him.
[Atalanta] fits a swift arrow to the string, and, bending the bow, lets it fly. Fixed under the ear of the beast, the arrow razes the skin, and dyes the bristles red with blood. And not more joyful is she at the success of her aim than Meleager is.
I'll put together a sheet of images tonight. Cheers!
So, I was initially gonna do something from the Bioshock 2 art book, but I decided it'd be a lot more fun to try and tackle something a little bit more obscure.
I've always felt that some of the greatest stories ever told are buried deep in the heart of Greek mythology, and the Calydonian boar hunt (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calydonian_Boar) inspires all kinds of awesome imagery for me.
Probably the most complete version is in Ovid's Metamorphoses (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/26073/26073-h/Met_VIII-XI.html#bookVIII_fableIV), but Homer also uses it in the Iliad when Achilles must be convinced to sail with the Greeks.
Since it's a 2 month challenge I'm gonna get super ambitious and really go for it. I'll focus on the pivotal scene where the huntress Atalanta draws first blood, injuring the boar with an arrow.
Here are some of the passages in Ovid that I'll try to draw from:
His eyes shine with blood and flames, his rough neck is stiff; bristles too stand up like spikes, thickly set; like palisades do those bristles project. Boiling foam, with a harsh noise, flows down his broad shoulders; his tusks rival the tusks of India. Thunders issue from his mouth; the foliage is burnt up with the blast. One while he tramples down the corn in the growing blade, and crops the expectations of the husbandman, doomed to lament, as yet unripe, and he intercepts the corn in the ear. In vain does the threshing floor, and in vain do the barns await the promised harvest. The heavy grapes, with the long branches of the vine, are scattered about, and the berries with the boughs of the ever-green olive. He vents his fury, too, upon the flocks. These, neither dogs nor shepherds can protect; not even the fierce bulls are able to defend the herds. The people fly in all directions, and do not consider themselves safe, but in the walls of a city, until Meleager, and, together with him, a choice body of youths, unite from a desire for fame.
A wood, thick with trees, which no age has cut down, rises from a plain...
Atalanta, the glory of the Lycæan groves. A polished buckle fastened the top of her robe; her plain hair was gathered into a single knot. The ivory keeper of her weapons rattled, hanging from her left shoulder; her left hand, too, held a bow. Such was her dress, and her face such as you might say, with reason, was that of a maid in a boy, that of a boy in a maid. Her the Calydonian hero both beheld, and at the same moment sighed for her, against the will of the God; and he caught the latent flame, and said, “Oh, happy will he be, if she shall vouchsafe to make any one her husband.” The occasion and propriety allow him to say no more; the greater deeds of the mighty contest now engage him.
[Atalanta] fits a swift arrow to the string, and, bending the bow, lets it fly. Fixed under the ear of the beast, the arrow razes the skin, and dyes the bristles red with blood. And not more joyful is she at the success of her aim than Meleager is.
I'll put together a sheet of images tonight. Cheers!