I find this to be a sad fact in much of life.
Peter
I had something to say about mermaids a year or two ago, when I was involved in a show. I had this on a little card, and some images were projected from a computer. Yes, it was a local 'art community' effort and I never got to see any of it: like Sandro, I was laid low by flu, quite possibly a great wave of fortune. The Spanish translation was kindly written by my Selmer-wielding friend, Santiago Bo.
FWIW:
The Birth of Venus
Always a pale child, Sandro Botticelli would spend hours of the day in solitary walks by the fabled shore, chatting quietly with the mermaids who, taking pity upon the poor kid, would allow themselves to be seen. Nonetheless, sirens to a fish, they would temper their discourse with anecdotes about heroes and other mythical creatures until poor little Sandro, head throbbing, could take no more, and would scurry back to the relative silence of his broken home.
This continued until his fourth birthday when, heavy with a cold, he was confined to quarters. Bored, he wandered around the house until he came upon the wooden ladder to the flat roof, an area forbidden him because of the difficulties a small child might face attempting to challenge the perils of such a thing.
Anyway, since nobody was around and his mother was entertaining some soldiers in the garden, he took the opportunity of going where he had never gone before: up and ever higher, at least to the open trapdoor to the roof. Now, you must understand that for a four-year-old, wooden ladders do indeed represent a formidable obstacle. With great care, he climbed until his head just reached the level of the floor outside.
At that point he almost fell right back down. There, on a bed of swan feathers, her feet framing his ears, lay Aunt Leda, snoring and sunbathing naked as a frog, in perfect simulation of the Vitruvian Man in his more athletic mode. At four, such things are inclined to leave an indelible mark upon one’s mind.
And so it was with Botticelli. From then onwards, he saw everything in terms of shells, a condition that stayed with him until the end and gave rise to his most renowned oeuvre: the Birth of Venus. The mermaids saw little of him after that.
© Rob Campbell, 2011
P.S.- Perhaps this is off-topìc.
