| Gip... |
[Aug. 30th, 2004|10:06 pm] |
Paestum is an old Greek site near Naples. Temples (Poseidon, Hera, Athena) in a very good state of preservation and among the graves, the grave of the diver (Tuffatore); like a box in the ground and the 4 walls, the ceiling are painted with scenes from the sea (dolphins...) and the picture of a young man diving (probably the diving expressed the transition from life to death... And many paintings about love (male love of course), erastes and eromenes (Spartan used other words, the younger man was called the 'listener' -forgot the other's name, sorry) during a symposium and other paintings. It's the only testimony of Greek painting -and it's wonderful, if you ever go to Italy, go there!
Notice the colors (the blue of the young man's chlamys -he's only using it as a scarf) and imagine that those reds, those blues, were the true colours of the greek monuments -nothing like the white marble we usually picture. |
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| Ah! The body! |
[Aug. 27th, 2004|01:27 pm] |
What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful that the garment with which it is clothed?
Michelangelo
My mother always said that in her youth she was exceedingly in fashion wearing a purple ribbon looped in her hair. But the girl whose hair is yellower than torchlight need wear no colorful ribbons from Sardis-- but a garland of fresh flowers.
Sappho |
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| The Chlamys... |
[Aug. 24th, 2004|11:16 pm] |
I spent a lot of time googling around to find an acceptable picture of the Chlamys, a short cloak worn by the Athenian Ephebes (from 18 to 20, the period when the young men were learning their job as soldiers and responsible citizens)
I found this picture from 1928; it's a beautiful one and from a historical point of view, it's perfect.
The chlamys could be worn above a chiton; it could be worn alone (it was, often); fastened up on a shoulder it let the young man's hip, thigh and waist naked and visible -reachable, probably?
All the clothes were woven and dyed home (generally in bright colors except in Sparta where only "earth" colors were allowed); embroidered, ornated with braid and never sewn; fastened with fibulas and belts; draped around the body; there's a whole text by Plato explaining that the way a man drapes his cloak, his chlamys or his chiton affects his social status... |
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| Symposium... Is the greek word for this: |
[Aug. 23rd, 2004|11:18 pm] |
500 bc; a painting on a vase; two lovers; a young man (bearded, around 25 probably) and a younger one (hairless body, no beard), probably aroud 17.
It's the ideal pairing... Difficult to imagine that *hair* could play such a part!
But look at the older guy... His eyes full of desire; and where's his right arm? Mmmhhh?
Oh and while I had no Internet connection I made a GIP |
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| Found this on a French site... |
[Aug. 17th, 2004|11:31 pm] |
- All the Spartans had long hair. Chris with long hair *purring*
- In 479 bc there were 5000 Spartan hoplites; in 380 they were only 700, as a result of the laws that forbade to anyone who wasn't a citizen to become a soldier and of course if you were not born in a family of citizens you had no hope to become one.
- Sparta had no cavalry but the Spartan army was often considered as being an invincible infantry, when Athens had an invicible naval fleet. |
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| what's left of Sparta? |
[Aug. 15th, 2004|11:18 pm] |
Not much.
Compared to Athens' splendor (even if in 500 bc the acropolis wasn't the one we can admire today; that one was built by Pericles after that the old one had been burnt down by the Persians) Sparta (also named Lacedaimon) looks like a little town of minor importance -which is not the case; Spartan was as powerful as Athens but.. Thucydide said it already;
<< If Lacedaimon were ever laid waste and there remained only the foundations of the temples and the public buildings, those born into a world of the far future would find it difficult to believe that the power of Sparta had deserved its reputation >>
Thucydides 5th century B.C.
Why?
Sparta's not a city in the modern sense of the word; it's the conglomeration of 5 or 6 dorian villages (as were most of the Greek cities in the beginning) under the same authority; with very few magnificent monuments or temples because the city isn't centralized around a political or religious center. Add to this that there were no somptuous residences either because men (and women until their husband reached 30) spent most of their time in collective buildings -barracks, canteens; and because after they were allowed to live with their families the houses were regularly inspected to make sure there was no gold, silver, jewels or any other signs of luxury.
The main buildings were (behind a cut tag because of the pictures) ( Read more... ) |
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| Found this (sorry, the link is broken; it was on Charles Sturt University site) :( |
[Aug. 15th, 2004|09:04 pm] |
It was an accepted part of Spartan society that relationships would be forged between the older men and the young Spartans. Relationships between males were not discouraged in ancient Sparta. Quite the reverse. They were encouraged and even celebrated, as was the case in the religious festival, the Hyakinthia.
Xenophon wrote..."I must also say something of the boys as objects of affection, for this likewise has some reference to education.... Lycurgus thought proper, if any man (being himself such as he ought to be) admired the disposition of a youth, and made it his purpose to render him a faultless friend, and to enjoy his company, to bestow praise on the boy; and he regarded this as the most excellent kind of education..."
Further reference to the love lives of the Spartans can be found in Plutarch, Life of Lycurgus, chapter 18, where he writes.... "Whether a boy's standing was good or bad, his lover shared it. There is a story that once, when a boy had let slip a despicable cry in the course of a fight, it was his lover whom the Ephors fined. Sexual relations of this type were so highly valued that respectable women would in fact have love affairs with unmarried girls. Yet there was no rivalry; instead, if individual males found that their affections had the same object, they made this the foundation for mutual friendship, and eagerly pursued their joint efforts to perfect their loved one's character...."
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| A little fun |
[Aug. 11th, 2004|09:34 pm] |
Gacked from a Greek lesson for middle school (grade 6th to 8th...)
"The Spartans were the warrior culture of the Pelopennesus – the Klingons of Ancient Greece. "
"They avoided anything that would have made their lives easier. Even their food was just barely edible. As one traveler through Sparta noted: “Having tasted their food, I understand why Spartans do not fear death.” That bad, eh?
Spartan soldier - bronze from the Archaïc period 600bc. (he should be carrying a spear. Note the cape; it served as a blanket too and was dyed red so the blood stain wouldn't show. Wow.) ( HERE ) |
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| First historical mistake :( |
[Aug. 11th, 2004|03:02 pm] |
After reading a lot about the athletes' life during the Olympic games I realized I'd made a historical mistake, one that will force me to reconsider some details in the beginning of the story. During the month preceding the opening ceremony of the Games with the sacrifice to Zeus, the athletes didn't live in the area around the stadium, the Altis, but in Elis, the nearest town, organizer of the games, 50 miles further. The athletes lived there for a month, trained there under the scrutinizing eyes of the hellanodices. Did they live in tents? No one seems to know.
So.... I have to change some details. That's the main reason why I didn't post this fic to TS or C5... I want to post something historically true.
About the nudity too... It seems that they really were naked for religious reasons. A doctor wrote that there's a muscle somewhere that keeps the penis and the testicles "rectracted" when the body endures excessive heat, cold or stress (physical effort). Still the question is open.
I intend to ask my husband, ask him to run (he was a runner) naked on the path behind our house, just to make sure. I just have to convince him. ;) |
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| Eros... |
[Aug. 10th, 2004|04:32 pm] |
is the legend of this icon, the God of Love and by extension, love itself. There are two kinds of loves, two words in greek. The love a child owes to his father, his brothers, his friends is Philia (it's also the Eromene's love for his Eraste, theorically), love without lust or sexual meaning.
This love, the one I'm talking about here is Eros; love *and* desire, love *and* sex. Eros of the man for his wife, for a hetaera (courtesan); of the Eraste for the Eromene... Here the love of Krysandros for Thoas, Thoas' love for Krysandros.
And I was reading Sappho's poems this morning, and one of the most famous among them says...
Here you go again, Eros, limb breaker....
In French "Eros, briseur de membres..."
And although the expression is used figuratively, it sounded oh so accurate here! So here comes Eros who will break your limbs, make you weak and hold you in his power... |
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| 3 points... |
[Aug. 9th, 2004|08:31 pm] |
First one: did they run naked, or not? They're shown naked on the vases, the pictures, in the poems; which led most of the historians to think they competed naked. But... Did anyone try to throw the javelin naked? Run 1500 meters naked? Men? Some other historians consider that it's only an aesthetical custom; the male body *had* to be portraited naked. We can imagine that they trained naked sometimes (what if you fall in a bush of thorns?) but that they wore short "chitons", sleeveless shirts sometimes; that they wore jockstrap, whatever, most of the times. It is believable that they wrestled and fought naked; maybe ran some of the runs naked. But the javelin... *shivers*
Second one: the story takes place during the 70th olympiad (the Greeks counted time in Olympiads), ie in 500 bc. Which means that some buildings in the Altis weren't built yet. No Temple of Zeus, no Chryselephantine statue. No matter, the altar is the only important religious place, it's where the sacrifices took place. No Palestra, at least nothing built with stones, but I'd be very surprised that the Greek, so concerned with the hygiene and the comfort of the body, hadn't planned something in that particular field. At least a gym where the athletes would exercise and a "loutron", a big bathroom, where they got cleaned. But of course the facilities probably were a little more... Spartan! The stadium was there, of course, and the Temple of Hera and the Prythaneum where the judges (the Hellanodices sat and lived) Anyway we can imagine that the Athletes in the middle of July were able to use the paths, fields, around the camp to run, work out, bathe in the river, pools and streams nearby... We have to remember that after a sometimes very long trip (on foot for most of the athletes, some of them had enough money to have their own ship -or their father's one, but those were an exception; the athletes coming from colonies located on the other side of the sea had to sail, but borded merchant ships.) the athletes had to be in Elis (the town near Olympia) and in the Altis (the Olympic area around the stadium) for a whole month before the beginning of the games, long enough to allow the judges who watched the trainings to make sure that they were strong, motivated and good enough to deserve their qualification; they had the right to ban them.
We have to imagine all these athletes living side by side for a whole month with their trainers, friends and families for some of them, maybe; showering together, listening to authors who'd travelled there specially to read their books, to poets, watching plays, dances, offering sacrifices, talking with philosophers -they didn't spend the whole day training, thank God! We're really talking about men living together under the accute eyes of the judges, the priests in a close world.
Third one: what about the Olympic spirit? The Olympic games in Ancient Greece were all about winning. They would've been very surprised by the Baron de Coubertin's "the important thing is not winning but taking part" (I can hear Krysandros. "What the fuck?"). They didn't come to take part, they came to win. Some of them did prefer death to defeat. The winner was beloved by the Gods, by Zeus, he became a hero; honoured by his city; had a statue erected on the Agora sometimes, was fed and dressed for free, invited in every official event; considered as a protector of the city. The Olympic Games were a sacred ceremony; it was all about honour; and for the Greeks there was no honour in being second of third, just shame; only victory mattered. There were cheaters, banned and fined if discovered; there were sophisticated device to prevent false-starts. The athletes, at least until the 4th century were mostly aristocrats and mostly fighters; the carried the reputation of their cities on their shoulders. Tough men engaged in very tough fight (the ancient boxing, the fist fight very often ended with the death of a competitor; so did the horse races). On the other hand the judges would ban athletes who were proved to "fight with hate" or "show the desire to humiliate his opponent". The "Agon", the fighting spirit was not to be tainted with lame feelings. |
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| GIP... |
[Aug. 8th, 2004|05:00 pm] |
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Meet Thoas, from Athens... |
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| When? |
[Aug. 6th, 2004|09:17 pm] |
I still have to decide *when* this fic is taking place. In the beginning I was thinking a lot about Pericles' period or a little later maybe, after Socrates' death. But Pericles, Socrates... I'm familiar enough with the period but I'm not very interested in writing it. Many people did already, much much better than I ever will. And the 4th century bc makes me somewhat sad; in spite of Athens' intellectual and political achievement and since the splendid city seems to be at the heights of fame it is actually the beginning of the end; and so is it for Sparta. Alexander the Great is not so far; soon Sparta and Athens will both lose what's left of their independancy.
So Ithink I'll locate this fic during the years between 550 and 500 bc. Athens is led (ruled?) by tyrants whose politics lead the way to democracy; Solon's laws have given a legal structure to the city. In Sparta, Lycurgue has defined the new political organization - the time for songs and arts has gone, here comes the time of equality, oligarchy, austerity.
The men (and women) who live there are still "young" if I dare say; meaning that their ideal is fresh and they're utterly convinced that their city must be a model for the whole Greece; they're proud and have plenty of energy. Athens is not yet the imperialist city it will become a little later; Sparta still counts enough "homoioi" (equal citizens) to be able to maintain its rank (lack of citizens ie warriors will be one of the decisive factors in Sparta's fall)... I like those moments in time when everything is still blurry and unfinished; when people have a goal to reach; when they're not yet tainted with decadence and too much power.
So be it... A Spartan named Akmatidas won the Pentathlon at the Olympic games in 500 bc. I'll take it as a good omen. |
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| Fic (part 3) Leaving the city |
[Aug. 6th, 2004|12:18 am] |
As usual, many thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) desert_rifka
Two weeks before…
“Don’t keep company with men whose reputation would taint yours, Thoas, my son; keep that uprightness Melas was so proud of.”
His father walked with him out of the house, a hand resting on his son’s shoulder; they stopped at the door and stood there, Eustathes’s eyes blurry with worried affection.
“I’ll offer sacrifices to Athena; ask her to grant you the victory you deserve.”
“Thank you father. I hope to make our family and Athens proud of me.”
Barely a smile; there were so many things Eustathes wanted to tell him; don’t drink, Thoas, wine doesn’t soothe your pain, it only makes you weak.
“You have to be strong; Melas would’ve expected that from you; honor his memory"
Thoas didn’t answer that, lowered his eyes.
/ Melas, my life is so empty without you, so dark; not only did I lose a lover, I lost my best friend, my guide, the light of my life; the sun I could warm myself up to. /
But he only nodded, and his father nodded back.
“May the Gods be with you, Thoas.”
Outside, the young man’s friends were beginning to show signs of impatience, calling his name, joking; Thoas walked out, gave a last backward glance to his mother, her silhouette barely visible silhouette in the backyard. Earlier they’d said their good-byes sooner, alone in her room.
“Hera sent me a dream last night, Thoas my son; you were resting on the grass in front of the palestra with the other champions, the winner’s crown on your head.”
He felt a shiver run down his spine. She looked so confident... He wanted to be too, for her but such a dream had many possible meanings, all of them ambiguous and dark in Thoas’ brain.
At last he walked down to the harbor where his father’s trireme was waiting, his friends singing along, his younger brother shaking a tambourine while Abydos, his family's old slave, trotted a few feet behind, grumbling, mumbling, as usual, about his arthritis and his fear of the sea.
Thoas spent most of the first day at the prow of the ship; looking at the changing sky, the city slowly fading in the distance; the waves growing higher with the wind, their colour deepening from a light blue to a deep green. He’d always loved sailing, he’d traveled with his father a lot since he'd been a kid, feeling exhilarated by the wildness surrounding him. But this trip was a brand new one.
“Master, you should eat something,” Abydos told him, fighting nausea, and Thoas laughed.
“From what I see, Abydos, I can have yours!”
“It was not my idea to come with you, Master; someone younger would’ve been more helpful.”
Thoas gave his a warm look.
“But I trust you more. Abydos, if I win the games; I’ll ask Father to set you free; you deserve it.”
Abydos smiled in spite of the sickness.
“Thank you Master. Now about the meal…”
********************************************
Krysandros ran his hands down his wife’s flanks one more time and sighed, pulling her close.
“When is the baby due?”
“Two months from now.”
“I’ll be back; I’m sure he will be a strong little Spartan, just like you.”
Arete’s smile was proud and hard, her eyes shining.
“His father will be an Olympic winner; Sparta will honour them both.”
“His mother won the run in the Heraia; I’ll be proud to be his father.”
They hugged, Krysandros resting the palm of his hand for a second against the distended belly where a new life was growing, a new Spartan citizen, a boy. His child; the child of the woman he’d abducted from her ageing husband a year ago and married.
Krysandros wanted Arete’s catlike face, black eyes, dark curly hair, pale skin, to be the last thing he’d see, the memory he’d carry with him, imprinted in his mind. Feeling her, warm and barely yielding against his body, still supple in spite of her late pregnancy, helped to take away the bitterness of his cold and formal, loveless meeting with his father –"Krysandros, if you don’t come back with the winner’s crown you might as well stay away from Sparta and from me," the old man had told him before leaving for the assembly of the ancients without a single word of encouragement.
Like he needed words; like he needed anything from that useless old man he’d admired once, years ago, before he understood who Pythocles really was; a narrow-minded mean old bastard hiding behind his ancestors' outstanding reputation.
Krysandros sighed, let the wave of rage vanish, leaving him weak and shaking.
“Take good care of yourself and the baby,” he said, stepping back while Arete’s friends joined them to bring her back inside.
He met the other athletes in front of Artemis’ temple where they offered a sacrifice to the Goddess before leaving, singing hymns on the way.
*********************************
On the last day, before dawn, as the coast was nothing yet but a threatening black wall in the distance, Thoas walked up to the front deck, wrapped in a dark violet himation embroidered with gold. He made sure the wind was blowing east and opened the funeral urn he was hiding under the cloak, scattering the ashes of the man he’d loved into the sea, as Melas, dying, had asked of him to, his feverish fingers crushing Thoas’ hand, his eyes veiled. Then he threw the cloak overboard as a testimony of his love; it had been a gift, he wouldn’t wear it anymore; he wouldn’t cut his hair either until the end of the games and he’d stay true to the memory of the best among Athenian warriors.
He stood there for a long time, his tears washed away by the wind. He didn’t even feel any shame for crying.
-------------------------------------------
Melas: black, in Greek. Sorry, didn't find any better name for Saïd. At least he's already dead! ;)
Abydos: Bob?
The Heraia: the equivalent of the Olympic games for women (to honor the goddess Hera). The only event was the run and Spartan runners probably ran naked.
I don't think I have to tell you *who* Pythocles is? Fucking Vern!
Himation: a large cloak, often decorated (except in Sparta. Spartan kept their clothes a modest shade of brown) |
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