Well, I ain't no classicist, but I agree. To me an ekphrasis is something which:

1) Is occasioned by another work, or form, of art in some way.
2) References it in some way.
3) Celebrates it in some way.
4) Doesn't necessarily restrict itself to description (which seems pointless unless you are trying to describe a painting to a blind man - actually, pointless even then). A work of art describes itself, non?

Philip

Actually Chris, I do not speak Greek and I cannot dispute what you claim. I made it easy for myself and quoted from

I daresay there are other interpretations that are close variations on the above definition and the one you contributed.

It is true that I did not read the entire thread before I locked it, but I assure you that it was not the content that caused me to lock it. I locked the thread, Chris, because of past praxis. On occasions when new members have dug up old threads and given their thoughts on discussions that started and ended six or seven years ago, there has been a hullabaloo. So to protect the nearly-asleeps and half-awakes, I locked it. I don't see anything wrong with that action.

Certainly there was no hinder for you to start a new thread for fresh scholarly comments from members who are currently active.

As regards the Achilles' shield, I don't know if there was a real one or not, and neither do you. It is possible that an actual shield fitting that description once existed, the description of which entered oral tradition and finally the written poem.

I do know that the description of the other shields in the Illiad fit the description of shields I have seen in museums in Greece. I can't quote you the exact section and line, but I remember that there is a passage stating that the shields were made strong by several layers of ox hide. These shields most certainly existed. In fact I have often reflected that regarding certain shields of thin gold which are said to be ritual shields rather than battle shields, it might be that the gold was an overlay of these many layers of ox skins. They would of course have rotted away leaving only the frame and the gold covering. I can't prove it of course, and I don't claim to. My point is though, that a shield similar to that described as Achilles' might have had a prototype.

Personally, I feel that "dogmatic" is quite an awful thing to be ("Characterized by an authoritative, arrogant assertion of unproved or unprovable principles.") and I truly hope I am not guilty of it.

Thank you for sharing your pronounciation erudition and preference.

The Hecht poem I posted above is, like the Larkin one and Alicia's "Resurrection", based on "standard iconographic elements". However, in the same volume that contains the poem, The Transparent Man, is his long-ish narrative poem, "See Naples and Die", which contains a wonderful passage giving a very detailed and brilliant description of Bellini's "Transfiguration" in the Capodimonte Museum in Naples. I don't have my books to hand but I'll come back later and edit the section in to this post.

Let me just repeat that the old thread excavated by Chris is a fascinating read. But as it obviously isn't the last word on the subject there's no reason for us not to have fun in this one as well. And Janice's action had the simple aim of making it clear that this was the new active thread on the subject.

The description of the bas-reliefs in Purgatorio canto X (the bas-reliefs are by God the Artist!) are a good example of ekphrastic writing.

Luca Signorelli’s monochromes in the Orvieto cathedral depict scenes from Dante, including images of the bas-reliefs--visual art based on ekphrastic poetry that is based on imaginary works of art (no doubt a composite of ones Dante actually saw).

How's that for complicated?

If you say so. I still don't really understand the locking of the other thread, but I don't care that much, and the subject is tedious.

Why don't we get back to posting examples of the genre? How about "An Arundel Tomb," has anybody mentioned that one yet? A quick scan of Gregory's list does not reveal it. Here's a link with Larkin's reading.

May I suggest this poem by Kit Wright which seems to tick many of the aforementioned boxes:

Lead Like Leather

(to the direct metal sculpture, 'Harness', by Peter Greenslade

That lead should wear the muted sheen
Of working country leather, laid
At rest upon a barn floor, mean
The same slow-motion cavalcade
Of strap and buckle, seems to me
Triumphant in a simile.

I rub the leather's molten grain
And smell the linseed in the lead.
The soft Convergence of the Twain
Sinks pleasure deep inside my head:
I like it that the world should be
So veined with similarity.

All men, all things, be family.

Pretty Ann. Very pretty.

I've been meaning to come back to this thread. In particular, thanks, Ann, for that wonderful poem by Kit Wright. I love "veined with similarity".

Here's the Hecht passage on the Bellini painting, which I mentioned earlier:

From "See Naples and Die":

See, what a perfect day. It’s perhaps three
In the afternoon, if one may judge by the light.
Windless and tranquil, with enough small clouds
To seem like innocent, grazing flocks of heaven.
The air is bright with a thickness of its own,
Enveloping the cool and perfect land,
Where earthly flocks wander and graze at peace
And men converse at ease beside a road
Leading to towers, to battlements and hills,
As a farmer guides his cattle through a maze
Of the chipped and broken headstones of the dead.
All this, serene and lovely as it is,
Serves as mere background to Bellini’s painting,
Of The Transfiguration. Five dazzled apostles,
Three as if just awakening from sleep,
Surround a Christ whose eyes seem to be fixed
On something just behind and above our heads,
Invisible unless we turned, and then
The mystery would indeed still be behind us.
A rear-view mirror might perhaps reveal
Something we cannot see, outside the picture
But yet implied by Bellini’s art.
Whatever it is seems to be understood
By the two erect apostles, one being Peter,
The other possibly John, both of them holding
Fragments of scroll with Hebrew lettering,
Which they appear just to have been consulting.
Their lowered eyes indicate that, unseeing,
They have seen everything, have understood
The entire course of human history,
The meaning and the burden of the lives
Of Samson, Jonah and Melchizedek,
Isaiah’s and Zechariah’s prophecies,
The ordinance of destiny, the flow
And tide of providential purposes.
All hope, all life, all effort has assembled
And taken human shape in the one figure
There in the midst of them this afternoon.
And what event could be more luminous?
His birth had been at night, and at his death
The skies would darken, graves give up their dead.
But here, between, was a day so glorious
As to explain and even justify
All human misery and suffering.
Or so, at least, perhaps, the artist felt,
And so we feel, gazing upon a world
From which all pain has cleanly been expunged
By a pastoral hand, moving in synchronous
Obedience to a clear and pastoral eye.


(And here's a link to the painting.)

A beautiful poem, but I do so wish he'd bothered to check the New Testament account! The insufferable know-it-all in me wants to correct the "five dazzled apostles" error--the identity of two who weren't apostles is of major importance to the story, and the painting is OBVIOUSLY treating those two differently from the "Three as if just awakening from sleep".

Although I must say that narrator makes rather a point of parading his ignorance of the story ("the two erect apostles, one being Peter,/ The other possibly John"). Almost surely that's intentional, and Hecht is intentionally tweaking the noses of us insufferable know-it-alls.

Grumble. I still think it would be a more effective poem if Moses and Elijah were given their proper billing:
"...both of them holding
Fragments of scroll with Hebrew lettering,
Which they appear just to have been consulting.
Their lowered eyes indicate that, unseeing,
They have seen everything, have understood
The entire course of human history,
The meaning and the burden of the lives
Of Samson, Jonah and Melchizedek,"
etc. This is great stuff, and it would be an even more plausible description if the narrator were aware that he's describing a couple of dudes born centuries before the scene in question, no?

Again, I can't quite believe this misidentification isn't intentional at some level, but it still bugs me. Probably just as Hecht intended it to.

Thanks for the poem and the link, Gregory! Enjoyed.

Yes, Julie, I'm sure it must be intentional. As I said in an earlier post this passage comes from a long-ish narrative poem which contains many puzzling elements. Most of the puzzles in the poem are related to the narrator himself and in particular to the tone of his narrative. He is at times almost endearingly comic and at others repellingly insensitive. This misreading of the painting is another puzzle. I'm not sure I can explain it.