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Today was another day which rushed by! Here are three more sketches from my little book. I doodle these during lunchtime, my commute, and other spare moments so they are not very polished, yet they sometimes attain a robust charm with their spontaneous verve. I particularly like the mysterious haunted landscape above with the sphinx, the red spider, and the vampire (to say nothing of the absurd tragicomic ghost). I keep putting mummies in my pictures: these ancient human remains are a very tangible and fascinating link with our ancient past (but they also are a solemn reminder of mortality). I think of all the characters in the drawing, the worm rising from the pit may have the most personality.
Here is a picture of fireworks drawn from a Williamsburg rooftop as my friends and I watched the East River Fourth of July show (you can see the towers of Midtown there at the bottom). Below is another enigmatic allegorical donut. The snack sits atop a stone crab while a gorgon glowers between two dancing pink shrimp. The entire piece has an elusive votive quality, but its religious overtones are greatly eclipsed by the outright miracles of the last picture.
This final selection shows a flying saint soaring the sky with a large heron. The holy man (an angel with a bowl of broth?) is soaring up to a castle surrounded by a fearsome carnivorous garden. More benign flowers also bloom in the castle garden as the first pink tinges of sunset stain the sky. I imagine he is bringing nourishment to the castle-dwellers, but it is hard to tell exactly. As always, I welcome your comments! Thanks for looking at my little pictures.
Yesterday’s post for World Oceans Day did not sate my need to write about the endless blue bounding. I am therefore dedicating all of the rest of this week’s blog posts to marine themes as well (“marine” meaning relating to the sea—not the ultimate soldiers). Today we are traveling back to South America to revisit those masters of sculpture, the Moche, a loose federation of agricultural societies which inhabited the Peruvian coastal valleys from 100 AD – 900 AD.
I keep thinking about the beauty and power of Moche sculptural art, and the Moche definitely had strong feelings about the ocean. In fact an informal survey of Moche art online indicates that their favorite themes were cool-looking animals, human sacrifice, the ocean, grown-up relations between athletic consenting adults, and crazy nose-piercings.
You will have to research some of these on your own, but I have included a selection of beautifully made Moche art of sea creatures. Look at the expressiveness of the crab, the turtle, and particularly the beautiful lobsters (which are part of a large pectoral type ceremonial ornament held in place through the nose). Moche ceramics are as rare and beautiful in their way as Roman paintings or Greek sculpture. I wish we knew more about Moche culture and mythology to contextualize these striking works—but the outstanding vigor and grace of the figures is enough to feel something of what this vivid culture was like.
Most items in the heavens are inconceivably large. The sun, a fairly ordinary star has a diameter of 1,391,000 kilometers (864,327 miles). Even a tiny planetoid like the moon has a diameter of 3,474 km (2,159 miles). However a few noteworthy items in the heavens are so small that we can think of them in human terms—like neutron stars, which are the size of a town or small city with a diameter of only 20 or 30 kilometers (about ten to 15 miles miles). But even though they are the size of a small asteroid or Manhattan Island, neutron stars are hardly inconsequential. These dinky stars can have more mass than the entire glorious sun (which itself is 332,946 times more massive than the Earth and everything on it). A 1.27 cubic centimeter block of such material (approximately the size of a half an inch sugar cube) would weigh approximately the same as all of the human inhabitants of Earth (give or take).
Neutron stars are left-over fragments of supernovae explosions. When a star 4 to 8 times more massive than our sun burns through all available fuel, its outer layers blow apart in a supernova which spreads glittering matter across great swaths of space. The dense remaining portion of the stellar core undergoes a titanic battle between electron degeneracy pressure and gravity. If the fragment has more than 1.44 stellar masses, gravity wins and the electrons and protons of its constituent matter are crushed into super dense neutrons. Such explosions are tremendously dynamic and bright. In 1054 AD, Sung dynasty astronomers recorded such an explosion which outshone the moon. Contemporary astronomers have determined that the 1054 AD supernova created the Crab Nebula, an oval shaped mass of hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, neon, sulfur, and iron.

The Crab Nebula (which measures 11 light years across and lies 6,500 light-years from Earth) NASA/CXC/SAO/F. Seward
In the center of the Crab Nebula is a spinning neutron star which is emitting jets of particles at a tremendous velocity from its magnetic poles. These jets produce very powerful beams of electromagnetic radiation (which varies in intensity and wavelength according to elaborate nuclear & stellar physics, much of which is not yet understood). The forces which create neutron stars often leave the stars spinning and pulsing with energy in such a way that they become pulsars. These pulsars are useful for studying gravity, general relativity, and the behavior of matter at nuclear densities (albeit indirectly). They also make accurate time measurement devices and useful beacons. It is strange to think that stars so prominent for vast distances and so useful to astronomers actually have such minimal volume.
According to myth, the Lernaean hydra was a nine headed chthonic water monster which guarded the entrance to the underworld which lay beneath the waters of Lake Lerna. The creature was so profoundly poisonous that even its footprints were toxic–to say nothing of its blood, bite, and breath. When one of the hydra’s heads was cut off, two more would sprout in its place. The hydra did have a weakness of sorts—only one of its heads was immortal.
Hercules’ second labor was to kill this fearsome monster. After the trouble the Nemean Lion had given the hero, Hercules adhered more closely to the Boy Scout motto before facing the hydra: he prepared thoroughly for the confrontation by covering his face and eyes against the monster’s poison. He donned his impervious lionskin and took with him his club, a golden sickle-sword given to him by Athena, and, most importantly, an ally–his nephew (and lover), Iolaus.

Attic Black Figure on White Ground from Funeral Lekythos (Attributed to the Diosphos Painter, ca 500 - 480 BC)
But for all of his physical preparations, Hercules attacked the monster with a characteristic lack of tactics. First he fired flaming arrows into the hydra’s favorite lair, the unquenchable well of Amymone until the creature emerged. Then Hercules started lopping off heads and bashing away with his club. Soon a veritable forest of poisonous serpentine monster heads was striking at him, and all seemed lost until Athena stole up beside Iolaus and gifted him with a flaming brand and the idea of cauterizing each neck before new heads could sprout. With the combined efforts of Iolaus, the ever-victorious goddess Athena, brute strength, the golden sickle-sword, and good ol’ fire, Hercules gradually cut and cauterized his way through the beast. But, the Hydra was not lacking for allies either: Hera sent a great crab to reinforce the wounded creature. Using superhuman strength Hercules crushed the crab with a mighty foot and at last faced only the Hydra’s immortal head. With one mighty slice he finished decapitating the monster and he placed the still living head beneath an immense rock on the sacred roadway between Lerna and Elaius. Hercules then dipped his arrows in the Hydra’s blood so that they would be lethal to all mortal things –a cruel stroke of genius which was to ultimately prove his downfall. Hera placed her defeated hydra and crab in the night sky.
Of all of Echidna’s offspring, the hydra seems to have the most resonance with contemporary artists. Painters, sculptors, and draftspeople are attracted to a theme which so elegantly exemplifies the hopelessness of struggling against a multi-headed entity capable of renewing itself exponentially. The hydra is emblematic of viruses, invasive animals, crabgrass, terrorists, crooked politicians, and corporations. Such a contest clearly presents the fundamental nature of individual striving. Hercules’ victory thus resounds as the ultimate triumph of the individual over the many…except…well, he had Iolaus, a magic weapon, magic armor, and the goddess Athena (as well as a sanction from his omnipotent father). In fact, his great accomplishment was deemed unacceptable as a “labor” because he utilized so much help.
I’ll leave you to contemplate the fact that even great Hercules needed a support team. In the mean time, enjoy this crazy gallery of amazing contemporary artworks depicting the hydra: