[Image courtesy of Free Software Foundation]
Our previous post dealt with sculpture, specifically a somewhat holographic dissection of an explorer's life, from a snapshot sent to me by my kid. It created some political discussion which is not the primary purpose of this class.
Here, we are trying, simply and peacefully as possible, to satisfy the general education requirements of our eventual degrees toward which we can devote 60 semester units and no more. However, politics make me jumpy and I had bad dreams stemming from genetic memory and seagoing Portuguese ancestry. I shouted maritime orders in my sleep --"Hoist the anchor! Anchor the hoist! Flush the poop deck! Channel your inner jib! Deploy the spanker!" At which last order, instead of the crew unrolling the rearmost drive-(or "spanker"-) sail, a huge guy climbed on deck growling, "Here now, who's been naughty?"
After waking in mid-dive with my head stuck between bed and wall, I decided to proceed with a discussion of another sculpture. I chose this metalwork by Donatello Santino, deposited in our care by Daughter some years ago.
Santino produced this sculpture in the 1800s as a self-portrait, which he accomplished by holding a mirror in one hand and a hacksaw in the other. There is some dispute regarding the number of eyes in the statue's head. Those artists in the School of Realism contend the artist possessed a faulty mirror or his hand shook, causing him to carve four eyes peeking out of the visor. The Impressionist School opines Santino was unable to fully express the power and variety of light with only two eyes. Santino was himself a member of the Neoclassical School.
In the School of Neoclassicism, Santino was something of a bully stealing the other artists' milk-money and inflicting what he called funestus cuneus (deadly wedgies) on them. He was finally expelled for tardiness and moaning in P.E. But, as a sufferer (as I am) of presbyopia --an ocular lens rigidity caused by being raised in dimly-lit Presbyterian churches-- the one indignity he refrained from inflicting upon his classmates who wore glasses was the epithet, "four-eyes". It is this triumph of artistic restraint Santino was trying to convey.
This completes the second section of my course syllabus entitled, Advanced Art Appreciation or, as we here at the community college call it, Triple-A --hmm, which might shed some more light on an immobile sheet-metal-clad object with its hood up.