Galatea

Perhaps you know the story of a sculptor who from cold stone carved a woman perfect in form, in shape and minute detail.  No?  Well…it was like this: In ancient Cyprus, home of the beautiful, terrible Aphrodite, the sculptor, Pygmalion, created a statue of the perfect woman, Galatea, whom he desperately, impossibly loved; the rest is history, a history which you might read in Ovid’s Latin telling, or here in spirited, subtle English verse, Galatea: The Statue Comes to Life.

Here, in the Galatea, be sensually warmed by the Aegean sun, rest in the arms of foam-born Aphrodite, breathe free of Progressive tyranny of opinion, move free of the Modern corset, be Classive, be good, be beautiful, be true, and you will be at home in the body of your imagination, some three-thousand years ago.

* This book concerns aesthetics, the sensual propagation of art, it is erotic, not suitable to delicate readers.

Description

THE AESTHETICON is a single work, a tetralogy of libretti (musical verse plays) which tell of aesthetic generation, each generation personified in a goddess, Pandora, Galatea, Amaron, Nyx: Pandora, the fanciful origination of Man; Galatea, the sensual propagation of Art; Amaron, the imaginary genesis of the Artist; Nyx, the sterile breeding of Style.  Greek-like, the Aristotelian form is by nature observed: id est, each libretti, each play, each section assumes the mythical persona of a goddess; then, amending Aristotle, each section compasses time, as is suitable to each in the mounting of time historically; each, a comedy composed in that meter suitable to human, English breath, to the human heartbeat, iambic pentameter.

     Pandora: iambic tetrameter; one day; mythical past; comedy

     Galatea: iambic pentameter; one week; antiquity; comedy

     Amaron: variable; one lifetime; recent past; comedy

     Nyx: iambic tetrameter; real time; near future; tragic-comedy

 

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From the Back Cover

Whiter Galatea than are the snow-white petals, slimmer than the adder, more flowery than are meadows, fresher than the tender kid, more splendid than is crystal, smoother than are shells polished in the tides.

Truer Galatea than maidens of the moon, humbler than are peacocks, less astringent than perfumes, softer than are butterflies, less quarrelsome than are hens, finer than are women who breathe and age and die.