I was just struck by the beauty of the hubble imagery posted by one Mr. Jason Permenter, noticing that it bore a strange resemblance to a work by one of my favorite artists, Gustav Moreau.
An excerpt from a description of the myth of Phaeton, according to wikipedia:
In the version of the myth told by Ovid in the Metamorphoses, Phaeton ascends into heaven, the home of his suspected father. His mother Clymene had boasted that his father was the sun-god Helios (or the god of sun, Apollo). Phaeton went to his father who swore by the river Styx to give Phaeton anything he should ask for in order to prove his divine paternity. Phaeton wanted to drive his chariot (the sun) for a day. Though Helios tried to talk him out of it by telling him that not even Zeus (the king of gods) would dare to drive it, the chariot was fiery hot and the horses breathed out flames. Phaeton was adamant. When the day came, Apollo anointed Phaeton’s head with magic oil to keep the chariot from burning him. Phaeton was unable to control the fierce horses that drew the chariot as they sensed a weaker hand.
“…consider what impetuous force Turns stars and planets in a diff’rent course. I steer against their motions; nor am I Born back by all the current of the sky. But how cou’d you resist the orbs that roul In adverse whirls, and stem the rapid pole?”[2]
I’m not speculating as to the driving force of nature, I’m simply appreciating it’s beauty. I’m wondering at the expression we human beings are capable of when trying to understand and describe our world.
Phaeton was painted in 1877. Gustav never got to see the stars the way we are able to, today, and yet his depiction of the energies and forces occurring in the universe is simply stunning, and uncanny.
Are we too spoilt, now, to endeavour such fancies? Is our science too much fed to us on a silver platter?
Phaeton by Gustav Moreau, found on artcyclopedia.
![I was just struck by the beauty of the hubble imagery posted by one Mr. Jason Permenter, noticing that it bore a strange resemblance to a work by one of my favorite artists, Gustav Moreau.
An excerpt from a description of the myth of Phaeton, according to wikipedia:
In the version of the myth told by Ovid in the Metamorphoses, Phaeton ascends into heaven, the home of his suspected father. His mother Clymene had boasted that his father was the sun-god Helios (or the god of sun, Apollo). Phaeton went to his father who swore by the river Styx to give Phaeton anything he should ask for in order to prove his divine paternity. Phaeton wanted to drive his chariot (the sun) for a day. Though Helios tried to talk him out of it by telling him that not even Zeus (the king of gods) would dare to drive it, the chariot was fiery hot and the horses breathed out flames. Phaeton was adamant. When the day came, Apollo anointed Phaeton’s head with magic oil to keep the chariot from burning him. Phaeton was unable to control the fierce horses that drew the chariot as they sensed a weaker hand.
“…consider what impetuous force Turns stars and planets in a diff’rent course. I steer against their motions; nor am I Born back by all the current of the sky. But how cou’d you resist the orbs that roul In adverse whirls, and stem the rapid pole?”[2]
I’m not speculating as to the driving force of nature, I’m simply appreciating it’s beauty. I’m wondering at the expression we human beings are capable of when trying to understand and describe our world.
Phaeton was painted in 1877. Gustav never got to see the stars the way we are able to, today, and yet his depiction of the energies and forces occurring in the universe is simply stunning, and uncanny.
Are we too spoilt, now, to endeavour such fancies? Is our science too much fed to us on a silver platter?
Phaeton by Gustav Moreau, found on artcyclopedia.](http://5.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kps5twEYwq1qzyx52o1_400.jpg)
