Man's search for flight--A Miscellany

This is a great NOVA special on a group of contemporary flight experts recreating the Wright Brother's twelve years of experimentation leading up to their successful flight at Kitty Hawk:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qo0kpCU03-U

And, for something completely different, a short clip of a Burning Man "flight":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmsKI73QmNQ

And, for something completely different still, here is an electronic copy of Progress in Flight Machines, a 1897 book by O. Chanute, an American civil engineer who would later assist the Wright Brothers, detailing man's many attempts at flight. It has lots of illustrations! (Although not all of them are scanned here. I have a physical copy of the book as well, for those who might wish to take a look):

http://invention.psychology.msstate.edu/i/Chanute/library/Prog_Contents.html#WebNote

Here's another website detailing various historical flying contraptions:

http://www.flyingmachines.org/

The Architect's Brother

David found these remarkable photographs by Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison, which were collected in an exhibition (and accompanying book) called The Architect's Brother. You can see more of the images, and learn more about the artists, at their official site:

http://www.parkeharrison.com/slides-architechsbrother/index.html

Or at this page from the George Eastman house:

http://www.geh.org/parkeharrison/

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Resources

In Icarus, Daedalus (or Patient X, as he is called) suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. Here are some online resources on the condition:

This is the web site for the National Center for PTSD, which is housed under the Department of Veteran Affairs. Lots of great information, although obviously geared towards veterans, their families and caregivers:

http://www.ptsd.va.gov/public/index.asp

This is the overview on the condition from the Mayo Clinic:

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/DS00246

Here is a news special on PTSD from the University of California Television, featuring several experts on the topic. It provides a good overview of the condition and its treatment:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvFJgNevlzY

This is a lecture panel from the University of Washington on PTSD, which goes into greater depth:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4xWUgykSEw&feature=related

Perdix is for Partridge

Depending on the version of the myth that you read, Perdix is either the name of Daedalus's sister or of her son, the prodigy who Daedalus killed out of jealousy. The genus name for partridges is, indeed, perdix ; gray partridges are perdix perdix.

It's said that a partridge (the spirit of the nephew or sister, depending on who you're reading) haunted Daedalus when he buried Icarus. In our production, a black partridge-like bird appears at every death.

Here's a YouTube clip of a gray partridge (not a nail-biter, but it gives you some sense of how they move):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEi8u2OLkLU

And here's another short clip, where you can hear the calls they make:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQqmPnVmq0M

And one more: apparently partridge fighting is quite popular in South Asia. Not endorsing animal fighting, but it gives a different perspective on their movement patterns):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zl_HMPe1V8

Finally, one more (audio) clip of a partridge call and flight alarm:

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Gray_Partridge/sounds

John Updike's Icarus

This is an interesting post-9/11 meditation on our need for flight (among other things) from Updike's collection Americana and Other Poems (Knopf, 2001):


Icarus

John Updike

O.K., you are sitting in an airplane and
the person in the seat next to you is a sweaty, swarthy gentleman of Middle Eastern origin
whose carry-on luggage consists of a bulky black briefcase he stashes,
in compliance with airline regulations,
underneath the seat ahead.
He keeps looking at his watch and closing his eyes in prayer,
resting his profusely dank forehead against the seatback ahead of him,
just above the black briefcase,
which if you listen through the droning of the engines seems to be ticking, ticking
softly, softer than your heartbeat in your ears.

Who wants to have all their careful packing—the travellers’ checks, the folded underwear—
end as floating sea-wrack five miles below,
drifting in a rainbow scum of jet fuel,
and their docile hopes of a plastic-wrapped meal
dashed in a concussion whiter than the sun?

I say to my companion, "Smooth flight so far."
"So far."
"That’s quite a briefcase you’ve got there."
He shrugs and says, "It contains my life’s work."
"And what is it, exactly, that you do?"
"You could say I am a lobbyist."
He does not want to talk.
He wants to keep praying.
His hands, with their silky beige backs and their nails cut close like a technician’s,
tremble and jump in handling the plastic glass of Sprite when it comes with its exploding bubbles.

Ah, but one gets swept up
in the airport throng, all those workaday faces,
faintly pampered and spoiled in the boomer style,
and those elders dressed like children for flying
in hi-tech sneakers and polychrome catsuits,
and those gum-chewing attendants taking tickets
while keeping up a running flirtation with a uniformed bystander, a stoic blond pilot --
all so normal, who could resist
this vault into the impossible?

Your sweat has slowly dried. Your praying neighbor
has fallen asleep, emitting an odor of cardamom.
His briefcase seems to have deflated.
Perhaps not this time, then.

But the possibility of impossibility will keep drawing us back
to this scrape against the numbed sky,
to this sleek sheathed tangle of color-coded wires, these million rivets, the wing
like a frozen lake at your elbow.

Robert Graves on Daedalus

The following is excerpted from Robert Graves' The Greek Myths, Complete Edition, published by Penguin Books in 1992 (based on the two-volume series first published in 1955). His footnotes on the variations on the myth and its connections with/ parallels to other myths are interesting (although I've omitted a couple of particularly esoteric entries):

The parentage of Daedalus is disputed. His mother is named Alcippe b some; by others, Merope; by still others, Iphinoe; and all give him a different father, though it is generally agreed that he belonged to the royal house of Athens, which claimed descent from Erechtheus. He was a wonderful smith, have been instructed in his art by Athene herself.

One of his apprentices, Talos the son of his sister Polycaste, or Perdix, had already surpassed him in craftsmanship while only twelve years old. Talos happened one day to pick up the jawbone of a serpant or, some say, a fish's spine; and, finding that he could use it to cut a stick in half, copied it in iron and thus invented the saw. This, and other inventions of his--such as the potter's wheel, and the compass for making out circles--secured him a great reputation at Athens, and Daedalus, who himself claimed to have forged the first saw, soon grew unbearably jealous. Leading Talos up to the roof of Athene's temple on the Acropolis, he pointed out certain distant sights, and suddenly toppled him over the edge. Yet, for all his jealousy, he would have done Talos no harm had he not suspected him of incestuous relations with his mother Polycaste. Daedalus then hurried down to the foot of the Acropolis, and thrust Talos's corpse into a bag, proposing to bury it secretly. When challenged by passers-by, he explained that he had piously taken up a dead serpant, as the law required--which was not entirely untrue, Talos being an Erechtheid--but there were blood-stains on the bag, and his crime did not escape detection, whereupon the Areiopagus banished him for murder. According to another account he fled before the trial could take place.

Now, the soul of Talos--whom some call Calus, Circinus, or Tantalus--flew off in the form of a partridge, but his body was buried where it had fallen. Polycaste hanged herself when she heard of his death, and the Athenians built a sanctuary in her honor beside the Acropolis.

Daedalus took refuge in one of the Attic demes, whose people are named Daedalids after him; and then in Cretan Cnossus, where King Minos delighted to welcome so skilled a craftsman. He lived there for some time, at peace and in high favor, until Minos, learning that he had helpled Pasiphae to couple with Poseidon's white bull, locked him up for a while in the Labyrinth, together with his son Icarus, whose mother, Naucrate, was one of Minos's slaves; but Pasiphae freed them both.

It was not easy, however, to escape from Crete, since Minos kept all his ships under military guard, and now offered a huge reward for his apprehension. But Daedalus made a pair of wings for himself, and another for Icarus, the quill feathers of which were threaded together, but the smaller ones held in place by wax. Having tied on Icarus's pair for him, he said with tears in his eyes: 'My son, be warned! Neither soar too high, lest the sun melt the wax; nor swoop too low, lest the feathers be wetted by the sea.' Then he slipped his arms into his own pair of wings and they flew off. 'Follow me closely,' he cried, 'do not set your own course!'

As they sped away from the island in a north-easterly direction, flapping their wings, the fisherman, shepards, and ploughmen who gazed upwards mistook them for gods.

They had left Naxos, Delos, and Paros behind them on the left hand, and were leaving Lebynthos and Calymne behind on the right, when Icarus disobeyed his father's instructions and began soaring towards the sun, rejoiced by the lift of his great sweeping wings. Presently, when Daedalus looked over his shoulder, he could no longer see Icarus; but scatter feathers floated on the waves below. The heat of the sun had melted the wax, and Icarus had fallen into the sea and drowned. Daedalus circled around, until the corpse rose to the surface, and then carried it to the near-by island now called Icaria, where he buried it. A partridge sat perched on a holm-oak and watched him, chattering for delight--the soul of his sister Polycaste, at last avenged. This island has now given its name to the surrounding sea.

But some, disbelieving the story, say that Daedalus fled from Crete in a boat provided by Pasiphae; and that, on their way to Sicily, they were about to disembark at a small island, when Icarus fell into the sea and drowned. They add that it was Hercules who buried Icarus; in gratitude for which, Daedalus made so lifelike a statue of him at Pisa that Heracles mistook it for a rival and felled it with a stone. Others say that Daedalus invented sails, not wings, as a means of outstripping Minos's galleys; and that Icarus, steering carelessly, was drowned when their boat capsized.

Daedalus flew westward until, alighting at Cumae near Naples, he dedicated his wings to Apollo there, and built him a golden-roofed temple. Afterwards, he visited Camicus in Sicily, where he was hospitably received by King Cocalus, and lived among the Sicilians, enjoying great fame and erecting many fine buildings.

Meanwhile, Minos had raised a considerable fleet, and set out in search of Daedalus. He brought with him a Triton shell, and wherever he went promised to reward anyone who could pass a linen thread through it: a problem which, he knew, Daedalus alone would be able to solve. Arrived at Camicus, he offered the shell to Cocalus, who undertook to have it threaded; and, sure enough, Daedalus found out how to do this. Fastening a gossamer thread to an ant, he bored a hole at the point of the shell and lured the ant up the spirals by smearing honey on the edges of the hole. Then he tied the linen thread to the other end of the gossamer and drew that through as well. Cocalus returned the threaded shell, claiming the reward, and Minos, assured that he had at last found Daedalus's hiding place, demanded his surrender. But Cocalus's daughters were loth to lose Daedalus, who made them such beautiful toys, and with his help they concocted a plot. Daedalus led a pipe through the roof of the bathroom, down which they poured boiling water or, some say, pitch upon Minos, while he luxuriated in a warm bath. Cocalus, who may well have been implicated in the plot, returned the corpse to the Cretans, saying that Minos had stumbled over a rug and fallen into a cauldron of boiling water.

Minos's followers buried him with great pomp, and Zeus made him a judge of the dead in Tartarus, with his brother Rhadamanthys and his enemy Aeacus as colleagues. Since Minos's tomb occupied the center of Aphrodite's temple at Camicus, he was honored there for many generations by great crowds of Sicilians who came to worship Aphrodite. In the end, his bones were returned to Crete by Theron, the tyrant of Acragas.

After Minos's death the Cretans fell into complete disorder, because their main fleet was burned by the Sicilians. Of the crews who were forced to remain overseas, some built the city of Minoa, close to the beach where they had landed; others, the city of Hyria in Messapia; still others, marching into the centre of Sicily, fortified a hill which became the city of Enguos, so called from a spring which flows close by. There they built a temple of the Mothers, whom they continued to honor greatly, as in their native Crete.

But Daedalus left Sicily to join Iolaus, the nephew and charioteer of Tirynthian Heracles, who led a body of Athenians and Thespians to Sardinia. May of his works survive to this day in Sardinia; they are called Daedalia.

Now, Talos was also the name of Minos's bull-headed bronze servant, given him by Zeus to guard Crete. Some say that he was a survivor of the brazen race who sprang from the ash-trees; others, that he was forged by Hephaestus in Sardinia, and that he had a single vein which ran from his neck down to his ankles, where it was stoppered by a brass pin. It was his task to run thrice daily around the island of Crete and throw rocks at any foreign ship; and also to go thrice yearly, at a more leisurely pace, through the villages of Crete, displaying Minos's laws inscribed on brazen tablets. When the Sardinians tried to invade the island, Talos made himself red-hot in a fire and destroyed them all with his burning embrace, grinning fiercely; hence the expression 'a Sardonic grin'. In the end, Medea killed Talos by pulling out the pin and letting his life-blood escape; though some say that Poeas the Argonaut wounded him in the ankle with a poisoned arrow.

***********

Footnotes:

1) Hephaestus is sometimes described as Hera's son by Talos, and Talos as Daedalus's young nephew; but Daedalus was a junior member of the House of Erechtheus, whcih was founded long after the birth of Hephaestus. Such chronological discrepancies are the rule in mythology. Daedalus ("bright" or "cunningly wrought"), Talos ("sufferer"), and Hephaestus ("he who shines by day") are shown by the similarity of their attributes to be merely different titles of the same mythical character. Icarus (from io-carios, 'dedicated to the Moon-goddess Car') may be yet another of his titles. For Hephaestus the smith-god married Aphrodite, to whom the partridge was sacred; the sister of Daedalus the smith was called Perdix ('partridge'); the soul of Talos the smith flew off as a partridge; a partridge appeared at the burial of Daedalus's son Icarus. Besides, Hephaestus was flung from Olympus; Talos was flung from the Acropolis. Hephaestus hobbled when he walked; one of Talos's names was Tantalus ('hobbling, or lurching'); a cock-partridge hobbles in his love-dance, holding one heel ready to strike at rivals. Moreover, the Latin god Vulcan hobbled. His cult had been introduced from Crete, where he was called Velchanus and had a cock for his emblem, because the cock crows at dawn and was therefore appropriate to a Sun-hero. But the cock did not reach Crete until the sixth century B.C., and is likely to have displaced the partridge as Velchanus's bird.

2. It seems that in the spring an erotic partridge dance was performed in honour of the Moon-goddess, and that the male dancers hobbled and wore wings. In Palestine this ceremony, called the Pesach ('the hobbling') was, according to Jerome, still performed at Beth-Hoglah ('the Shrine of the Hobbler'), where the devotees danced in a spiral. Beth-Hoglah is identified with 'the threshing-floor of Atad', on which mourning was made for the lame King Jacob, whose name may mean Jah Aceb ('the heel-god'). Jeremiah warns the Jews not to take part in these orgiastic Canaanite rites, quoting: 'The partridge gathereth young that she hath not brought forth.' Anaphe, an islad to the north of Crete, with which Minos made a treaty, was famous in antiquity for migrant partridges.

3. The myth of Daedalus and Talos, like its variant, the myth of Daedalus and Icarus, seems to combine the ritual of burning the solar king's surrogate, who had put on eagle's wings, in the spring bonfire--when the Palestinian New Year began--with the rituals of flinging the partridge-winged pharmacos, a similar surrogate, off a cliff into the sea, and of pricking the king in the heel with a poisoned arrow. But the fisherman's and peasant's admiration of the flying Daedalus is probably borrowed from an icon of the winged Perseus or Marduk.

4. In one sense the labyrinth from which Daedalus and Icarus escaped was the mosaic floor with the maze pattern, which they had to follow in the ritual partridge dance; but Daedalus's escape to Sicily, Cumae, and Sardinia refers perhaps to the flight of the native bronze-workers from Crete as the result of successive Hellenic invasions. The ruse of the Triton shell, and Minos's burial in a shrine of Aphrodite to whom this shell was sacred, suggest that Minos was also, in this context, regarded as Hephaestus, the Sea-goddess's lover. His death in a bath is an incident that has apparently becomed detached from the myth of Nisus and Scylla; Nisus's Celtic counterpoint, Llew Llaw, was killed in a bath by a trick; and so was another sacred King, Agamemnon of Mycenae.

5. The name Naucrate ('sea-power') records the historical consequences of Minos's defeat in Sicily--the passing of sea-power from Cretan into Greek hands. That she was one of Minos's slaves suggests a palace revolution of Hellenic mercenaries at Cnossus.

6. If Polycaste, the other name of Talos's mother Perdix, means polycassitere, 'much tin,' it belongs to the myth of the bronze man, Talos's namesake. Cretan supremacy depended largely on plentiful supplies of tin, to mix with Cyprian copper; according to Professor Christopher Hawkes, the nearest source was the island of Majorca.

7. Talos is said by Hesychius to be a name for the Sun; originally, therefore, Talos will have coursed only once a day around Crete. Perhaps, however, the harbors of Crete were guarded against pirates by three watches that sent out patrols. And since Talos the Sun was also called Taurus ('the bull'), his thrice-yearly visit to the villages was probably a royal progress of the Sun-king, wearing his ritual bull-mask--the Cretan year being divided into three seasons. Talos's red-hot embrace may record the human burnt sacrifices offered to Moloch, alias Melkarth, who was worshipped at Corinth at Melicertes, and probably also known in Crete. Since this Talos came from Sardinia, where Daedalus was said to have fled when pursued by Minos, and was at the same time Zeus's present to Minos, the mythographers have simplified the story by giving Hephaestus, rather than Daedalus, credit for its construction; Hephaestus and Daedalus being the same character. The sardonicus risus, or rictus, a twisting of the facial muscles, symptomatic of lock-jaw, was perhaps so called because the stag-man of early Sardinian bronzes wears the same mirthless, gaping grin.

8. Talos's single vein belongs to the mystery of early bronze casting by the cire-perdue method. First, the smith made a beeswax image which he coated with a layer of clay, and laid in an oven. As soon as the clay had been well baked he pierced the spot between heel and ankle, so that the hot wax ran out and left a mold, into which moulton bronze could be poured. When he had filled this, and the metal inside had cooled, he broke the clay, leaving a bronze image of the same shape as the original wax one. The Cretans brought the cire-perdue method to Sardinia, together with the Daedalus cult. Since Daedalus learned his craft from Athene, who was known as Medea at Corinth, the story of Talos's death may have been a misreading of an icon which showed Athene demonstrating the cire-perdue method. The tradition that melted wax caused Icarus's death seems to belong, rather, to the myth of his cousin Talos; because Talos the bronze man is closely connected with his namesake, the worker in bronze and the reputed inventor of compasses.

11. Although Daedalus ranks as an Athenian, because of the Attic deme named in his honor, the Daedalic crafts were introduced into Attica from Crete, not contrariwise. They toys that he made for the daughters of Cocalus are likely to have been dolls with moveable limbs, like those which pleased Pasiphae and her daughter Ariadne, and which seem to have been used in the Attic tree cult of Erigone. At any rate, Polycaste, Daedalus's sister, hanged herself, as did two Erigones and Ariadne herself.

Daedalus and Perdix in Ovid's Metamorphoses

Excerpted from the Mandelbaum translation:

While Daedalus was burying the corpse
of his ill-fated son, a chattering partridge,
lodged in a muddy ditch, caught sight of him.
The bird knew Daedalus at once: he beat
his wings and seemed to chirp maliciously--
a bird that was indeed a novelty,
till then, the only partridge ever seen--
but one, who knew how guilty you had been,
o Daedalus, when you connived against him.

That bird had been your sister's son, a boy
whom she--not knowing what his fate would be--
confided to your care, that you might teach
your arts to one so young and yet so keen:
a twelve-year-old, alert and shrewd. Indeed,
on noting how a fish's spine was shaped,
the boy cut out, along a sharpened blade,
a row of teeth, inventing--thus--the saw.
He also was the first to twin a pair
of metal arms joined by the hinge they shared;
and while the first stood firm--erect and central--
the second, moving arm described a circle.

And Daedalus, in envy, threw him headlong
down from Minerva's sacred citadel
and--lying--said he'd fallen. But Minerva,
who favors those with ingenuity,
caught up the boy before he struck the eart:
while he was in midair, the goddess clothed
his form with feathers; he became a bird.
And though the speed that always marked his wits
passed into both his wings and feet--so swift--
his name remained; it did not change: Perdix--
or Partridge--is the name the bird retained.
And yet that bird will never fly too high
up from the ground, nor does he build his nest
among the branches or along the treetops.
All partridge eggs are laid along hedgerows.
That bird recalls its ancient fall, and so
it shuns the high and always seeks the low.

Now Daedalus exhausted, spent, at last
landed near Aetna--and, a suppliant,
entreated Cocalus, a clement king,
to shield and shelter him. The king agreed;
he readied all his troops, lest Minos seek
revenge--invading Sicily from Crete.

Icarus and Daedalus in Ovid's Metamorphoses

Excerpted from Allen Mandelbaum's 1993 translation, published by Harcourt:

But Daedalus was weary; by this time,
he'd been exiled in Crete too long; he pined
for his own land; but he was blocked--the sea
stood in his way. "Though Minos bars escape
by land or waves," he said, "I still can take
the sky--there lies my path. Though he owns all,
he does not own the air!" At once he starts
to work on unknown arts, to alter nature.
He lays out feathers--all in order, first
the shorter, then the longer (you'd have said
they'd grown along a slope); just like the kind
of pipes that country people used to fashion,
where from unequal reed to reed the rise
is gradual. And these he held together
with twine around the center; at the base
he fastened them with way; and thus arranged--
he'd bent them slightly--they could imitate
the wings of true birds.

As he worked at this,
his young son, Icarus, inquisitive,
stood by and--unaware that what he did
involved a thing that would imperil him--
delighted, grabbed the feathers that the wind
tossed, fluttering, about; or he would ply
the blond wax with his thumb; and as he played,
the boy disturbed his father's wonder-work.

When Daedalus had given the last touch,
the craftsman thought he'd try two wings himself;
so balanced, as he beat the wings, he hung
poised in the air. And then to his dear son,
he gave another pair. "O Icarus,"
he said, "I warn you: fly a middle course.
If you're too low, sea spray may damp your wings;
and if you fly too high, the heat is scorching.
Keep to the middle then. And keep your eyes
on me and not on Helice, Bootes,
or on Orion's unsheathed sword. Where I
shall lead--that's where you fly: I'll be your guide."
And as he taught his son the rules of flight,
He fitted to the shoulders of the boy
those wings that none had ever seen before.
The old man worked and warmed; his cheeks grew damp
with tears; and with a father's fears, his hands
began to tremble. Then he kissed his son
(he never would embrace the boy again);
and poised upon his wings, he flew ahead,
still anxious for the follower he led
(much like the bird who, from her nest on high
leads out her tender fledglings to the sky).
He urges on his son, saying he must
keep up, not fall behind; so he instructs
the boy in flight, an art most dangerous;
and while the father beats his wings, he turns
to watch his son, to see what he has done.

A fisherman, who with his pliant rod
was angling there below, caught sight of them;
and then a shepherd leaning on his staff
and, too, a peasant leaning on his plow
saw them and were dismayed: they thought that these
must surely be some gods, sky-voyaging.

Now on their left they had already passed
the isle of Samos--Juno's favorite--
Delos and Paros, and Calymne, rich
in honey, and Labinthos, on the right.
The boy had now begun to take delight
in his audacity; he left his guide
and, fascinated by the open sky,
flew higher; and the scorching sun was close;
the fragrant wax that bound his wings grew soft,
then melted. As he beats upon the air,
his arms can get no grip; they're wingless--bare.

The father--though the word is hollow now--
cried: "Icarus! Where are you?" And that cry
echoed again, again till he caught sight
of feathers on the surface of the sea.
And Daedalus cursed his own artistry,
then built a tomb to house his dear son's body.
There, where the boy was buried, now his name
remains: that island is Icaria.

The Minotaur and the Labyrinth in Ovid's Metamorphoses

Excerpted from Ovid's Metamorphoses (from Allen Mandelbaum's 1993 translation, published by Harcourt):

As soon as Minos, disembarking, touched
the soil of Crete, he sacrificed to Jove
the hundred bulls he owned; his palace walls
were soon adorned with trophies, spoils of war.
But now the foul obscenity that shamed
the family of Minos grew: the strange
half-human and half-beast, the monstrous child
of Minos' queen, the living proof of vile
adultery. And so the kind decides
to place the shame that stains his marriage far
apart from Minos' house: he wants to hide
the monster in a labryrinth, where blind
and complicated corridors entwine.
The famous builder, Daedalus, designs
and then constructs this maze. He tricks the eye
with many twisting paths that double back--
one's left without a point of reference.
As in the Phrygian fields, the clear Meander
delights in flowing back and forth, a course
that is ambiguous; it doubles back
and so beholds its waves before they go
and come; and now it faces its own source,
and now the open sea; and so its waves
are never sure that they've not gone astray;
just so did Daedalus, within his maze,
along the endless ways disseminate
uncertainty; in fact the artifex
himself could scarcely trace the proper path
back to the gate--it was that intricate.

And it was in this labyrinth of Crete
that Minos jailed the monstrous Minotaur,
the biform bull-and-man. And twice the king
gave him Athenians to eat--these, each
nine years, were picked by lot to feed the beast.
But at the third return of those nine years,
the beast was killed by Theseus, Aegeus' son.
He, helped by Ariadne, Minos' daughter,
was able to retrace his steps: she gave
a thread to him, which he would then rewind,
and so he found the entrance gate again--
a thing that none before had ever done.
Without delay he sailed away to Naxos.
He'd taken Ariadne with him, yet
he showed no pity: on that shore he left
the faithful girl. And Ariadne wept
till Bacchus came; that god was warm and fond,
and he embraced the girl; through him she won
a place in heaven as the Northern Crown--
Corona--an eternal constellation;
for from her brow, he took her diadem
and sent it up to heaven. Through thin air,
it flew, and in its flight, its gems were changed:
they blazed as flames--but its crown-shape was saved.
Now Ariadne's diadem is placed
between the Gripper stars, which hold the Snake,
and those that show the Kneeling Hercules.

Norman Burkett's Icarus and Daedalus

These sculptures--two variations on Icarus and a depiction of "Old Daedalus"-- were created by Irish/Dutch sculptor Norman Burkett (born 1942).

Leighton's Daedalus and Icarus

Lord Frederick Leighton's "Daedalus and Icarus" was painted in 1869; Leighton (1830-1896) was a member of Pre-Raphaelite school, a President of the Royal Academy, and a baron.

Le Brun's Daedalus and Icarus

"Daedalus and Icarus" was painted in either 1645 or 1646 by the French painter Charles Le Brun (1619-1690), who created most of his work for Louis XIV at either the Louvre or Versailles.

Landon's Daedalus and Icarus

"Daedalus and Icarus" was painted in 1799 by Charles Paul Landon (1760-1826), a French painter and writer.

Redon's Icarus

"The Fall of Icarus" was painted by Odilon Redon (1840-1914), one of the leading members of the French Symbolist movement.

Pompeii Wall Art

The painting above depicting the fall of Icarus was preserved on a wall in Pompeii--the artist is unknown, as is the date (but it was likely created sometime in the late first century BC or in the first century AD before 79, when Vesuvius erupted and the city was buried).

Lament for Icarus

Herbert James Draper, a late-Victorian British painter of the Pre-Raphaelite school (1863-1920), finished "The Lament for Icarus" in 1898.

Andrea Del Sarto's Icarus

Andrea Del Sarto, a Florentine Renaissance painter (born 1486, died 1531), created this work (date unknown).

Rubens' Icarus

"The Fall of Icarus," an oil on wood, was painted in 1636.

Mrs. Icarus

"Mrs. Icarus" is an amusing little verse by Carol Ann Duffy, the current British poet laureate (and the first woman to hold the post). It is from her 2001 collection The World's Wife:

I'm not the first or the last
to stand on a hillock
watching the man she married
prove to the world
he's a total, utter, absolute, Grade A pillock.

"Pillock," as one might easily gather from the above, is British slang for "idiot;" originally, it was a slang term for the penis, but that definition has fallen out of use.

Marc Chagall's Icarus

This 1975 oil painting is entitled "The Fall of Icarus."

Carlo Saraceni's Icarus Series

Carlo Saraceni, an Italian painter of the early Baroque period (born 1579, died 1620), painted a series of three works on copper in 1606-1607 depicting the Icarus myth. They are, from top to bottom, "Landscape With The Flight of Icarus," "Landscape With the Fall of Icarus," and "Landscape With the Burial of Icarus."

Matisse's Icarus

This paper cutout was included in Henri Matisse's famous 1947 book Jazz.

Anne Sexton on Icarus

Anne Sexton's poem To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Triumph also takes up the Icarus myth:

Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wings on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well.
Larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that he fell back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town.

Brueghel, Auden, and Williams on Icarus

Pieter Brueghel's 1558 painting Landscape With the Fall of Icarus (above--Icarus' legs can be seen entering the water in the lower right hand corner of the painting in front of the ship) is alluded to in poems by two major twentieth century poets, W.H. Auden and William Carlos Williams. Both take up the idea that tragedies, such as that of Icarus, occur simultaneously with the mundane events of daily life, and may in fact go unregarded by most.

Musee Des Beaux Arts W.H. Auden

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
William Carlos Williams

According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring

a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry

of the year was
awake tingling
near

the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself

sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings' wax

unsignificantly
off the coast
there was

a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning