humanitas.

Engravings for M. Servantes' novel Don Quixote (1863), Gustave Doré

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas (1601), Caravaggio

The Sirens (1892), John Longstaff / The Siren (c. 1900), John Waterhouse

One more for the series.

Angel of Death (1890), Evelyn de Morgan

dialogically interpreted by Luis Kolodin :)

Aeolus (early XVII century), attributed to Peter Rubens

In Poesia Completa, epigraph from Adormecida

“Her long, flowing hair covers her entirely The cross on her necklace rests in her hand, As if to show that she has said her prayers. And that she will say them again when wake up tomorrow.”

Die Schachspieler (1831), Moritz Retzsch

on today's outing I came into contact with the production material from the rca victor at casa edison rio de janeiro! (original song btw)

"So writing is the way of those who use words as bait: the word catching what is not a word. When that non-word takes the bait, something has been written. Once you've fished between the lines, it could be easy to throw the word away. But then the analogy stops: the non-word, by taking the bait, has incorporated it. What saves you is reading ‘absent-mindedly’."

Christ and Saint Thomas by Verrocchio, Orsanmichele, Florence

made in the time of a tea

Marriage of Heaven and Earth, by Norman Lindsay (1879–1969)

A celestial struggle etched in light and shadow whispers of the yearning for transcendence, a sacred union that defies the weight of mortal constraint. A man reaches toward the heavens, lifting a form that clings to hope. The sacred union is not bound by the fragile threads of the fleeting promises of earthly desires, but it is a bond forged in surrender, where the self dissolves in a sea and only love remains, like the angel’s hand is an act of defiance against the pull of pride and material hunger—a leap into the ineffable. Outstretched arms, unfurls wings, the silent of the human form, who kisses in closed eyes, caught between the abyss and the stars. It is a reminder that true union is not spoken but felt, not told but known in the marrow, in the spirit. This tableau, caught between ascent and descent, seems to mirror the soul in a very platonic journey.

Power relations flow beneath these themes. Differing from the common historical interpretations of gender symbolism in art, here the man is not represented as death, a fallen angel or other figures of temptation, impetuosity or secularity , nor the woman as a passive figure. The man does not dominate but lifts. The darker force beside, who tries to clutch with possessive intent, is a shadow of dominion—the very antithesis of the sacred union. But is this dichotomy inevitable, or even fair? Such interpretations often bind us to traditions of thought that divide rather than unite. What if this is no dichotomy at all but an interplay of forces within every soul? Perhaps the man and the woman are not distinct beings but facets of one essence—the striving and the surrender, the human and the divine. The man’s ascent does not diminish his divinity, just as the woman’s grace does not preclude her struggle.

Here, we glimpse the wisdom of ancient myths: the dance of Shiva and Shakti, the eternal embrace of Yin and Yang. It is a call to relinquish control, to meet the other as an equal in the vast, uncharted expanse of love. It is the ultimate act of faith: to leap into the unknown, trusting that love will bear you for your corresponding sky.