Ulysses

This artwork was inspired by 'Ulysses' written by James Joyce.

Usually, I add my description of Yanka's artwork and tell you what I think about it and what I think you should think and feel about it, but this time I decided to do something different. Since the description is a part of the NFT, I will put here my notes on Odysseus, the Greek hero, and archetype. The drawing and notes, take it as two-in-one.

Odysseus - a man who only wanted to play fetch with his dog

I’m not going to talk about Homer here, or about how he could be a freaking genius that in the times when people still wore chiton spoke of things that modern psychologists fail to grasp. I’m gonna say a few words about Odysseus, simply because I heard recently that someone called him ‘a man of action'. Who, Odysseus? No, man, he wasn’t a man of action, he was a man of reaction, and believe me, there’s a lot of meaning in that little ‘re’. Ever since he was forced to join the Greeks’ army he did things that he had to do, was obliged to do, wish he could but he couldn't not to do, or this pitiful bunch of morons would die stupid death for nothing, or this stupid war would never end, or else, but there wasn’t a thing among all his ‘action’ that he genuinely wanted to do all by himself. Yes, he went to this war, but man, there were wars before, and who didn’t know what ‘war’ meant for him and his fellow kings? We came, we beat our foes, we took their riches, we came back in fame, well almost all of us, we threw a feast. This one, why should it be different? It began with a great sea journey with many friends, and good food, and booze, and high hopes, and jokes, and expectations. The first challenge, that poor guy Protesilaus, it was rather funny to foil god’s mousetrap with a rat. But then - it just went all wrong. The war didn’t end in a day. It didn’t end in a month, or in two, but he - he had things to do back at home! He never thought he would leave them for long - his young wife, smart and beautiful, they only started to know each other, and his baby son, the boy needs his father to grow up tall and strong, and his dog, still a puppy, so funny and cute, so eager, he promised to play fetch with him upon his return! He had life to live, for god’s sake, his own life, not this stupid war! If only he could leave them Greeks to themselves together with their stupid feats and decisions! Probably, the 40-years old Odysseus would do just that. Turn around and, telling Greeks, and Troians ‘Go flunk yourselves’, board the first passing ship. Yet it’s quite obvious that 20-years old Odysseus couldn’t imagine being called ‘a coward’, ‘a traitor’, ‘a weakling’, and he stayed and cared, took responsibility, and did everything to make this war end. You need Achilles? You got Achilles. What else do you need? Food, medicine? To calm those disgruntled soldiers? Ah, are you surprised that not everyone is happy? More women and wine? Wait, what? What 10 years? Where? How? But I have my beautiful wife at home, yes, I remember she was very beautiful, I have my son, 10 years old, yes, I must be there and teach him to ride a bicycle, it’s still not too late, and my dog, my cute puppy with bright, innocent eyes, he is waiting for me to play fetch, yes, I promised! Let’s end this freaking war, do you see? Don’t you see that we’ve already lost, we all lost our friends, our health, and 10 years of our lives, but it’s not too late. Do you agree? Would you finally listen to me? Would you do as I say, please? So the war ended and Odysseus' adventures began. Some adventures, sure. Well, it all looks kinda fun when you read about all these threats, traps and disasters that Odysseus brilliantly avoids or escapes on its way, but what kind of fun was it for a man who spent 10 dull, meaningless years far away from home? Was it fun when instead of a restful and relaxing journey, obstacle after obstacle started to rise before his eyes, menacing and torturing and demanding more and more action? When the feeling of time leaking like seawater through his hands became almost real? When the stress of not getting what he wanted, became almost unbearable, yet he still had to move, to act, to make decisions, to sacrifice more and more simply to stay alive? Oh, what fun! I’m dying of excitement, don’t you see me dying? Until the day came, and he was back. He recognized the place, he understood what had happened, he, Odysseus, returned home to his beautiful wife, to his little son, to his life, and to his dog who was waiting for him ever ready to jump up and play fetch. He survived it all, he came home, he outsmarted the gods, he He didn’t know that the worst was yet to come until he saw the dog. He saw the poor, shabby creature, dragging his hind paws and struggling to stand, he looked into bluish, weak eyes, and the dog saw him. But where everyone else saw a tired middle-aged man with a hard, wrinkled face and a head full of grey hair, the dog saw his Odysseus, his owner in all his glorious youth as he looked on that day when he promised to play fetch, and dog run, and he jumped, and his little old heart burst, and he died a moment before he could catch that ball. The dog fell to the ground. He lay in the dirt, motionless, when Odysseus was realizing that time had passed here too. That there was no more young beautiful wife, no more little son, no more Odysseus whom he thought he was. There was no more home as he remembered it, it just didn’t exist anymore, and homecoming had lost its meaning when the dog lost his life. But there still were things that he had to do. There was a kingdom to reclaim, his wife who waited for him 20 years and raised their son all alone, there was that son whose trust yet had to be won, and other less important affairs that still demanded attention. Better accept reality, and it’s exactly what he said to his son: “There’s only one Odysseus now, and it is me, not that funny guy from your mother’s stories. Take it or leave it”. Then, to make sure that the boy chooses right he deals with his mother’s suitors in the most impressive to the eyes of a youngster, and in the most effective way. ‘Ah, the cruel revenge!’ you say. Please, for god’s sake, what revenge are you talking about? How could Odysseus hold any grudges against those suitors if he didn’t know that they existed just a few days ago? They did nothing bad to him, yes, they chased and pestered his wife, but she didn’t budge, so his pride wasn’t hurt. For him, they were not people, but vultures who fought for his kingdom like it was a piece of dead meat. Most of the time that the greedy suitors circled around his wife Oddyseus wasn’t there at all, but his son, he was there. He was with his mother all the time, he saw her suffering and he heard her complaining and, probably, even crying because of them. It was he who wanted them dead, wished them the cruelest death that he could imagine. Well, he asked and his father provided. It was easy, and it wasn’t by any means cruel from his point of view. Don’t forget that he came from the war, he saw his friends dying, he saw maimed, decaying bodies and he learned to live with it. What his son, or you, for example, consider ‘horrible’, for Odysseus was normal, well, it was acceptable, it was just what it was, no more and no less. He staged a bloody show for his son and succeeded to win his heart. Then he ordered the place to be cleaned. Simple as that, but if you leave the blood and the meat for too long, the stench would be unbearable. Everything must be cleaned most thoroughly, and watch out for the flies, they will show you if you missed something. Life had taught Odysseus too well not to leave open doors behind and he did as he was used to do. It’s not cruelty, just an old good habit.

A friendly reminder, Yanka’s artwork is called ‘Ulysses’ and was inspired by James Joyce’s book. Now go figure.