Of Thespiae

So, now is the time I’ve come to observe as the Boeotian New Year (just downloaded hella PDF files, both something called The Boeotian Project and The Ancient Boeotians, if I can find anything more about the calendar, this may prove different next year). I realise it’s technically long into the AM hours for me, but considering the hours I’ve been keeping lately, it’s actually still kind of like late last night.

The “festivities” began with cleaning up the apartment for the previous two days and part of earlier today. This took the time that it did for a lot of reasons, but mostly 1) I like to do a lot of Noumenia-related cleaning during Hekate’s Depinion and 2) I have serious allergies and keep forgetting to buy face masks — this means I end up needing to take a break every twenty minutes to let the dust settle and to clear my head of snot. In this, i also ended up doing my laundry, including a bunch of things that probably didn’t need it, but the Theoi only know how long these things had been on the floor.

So, for Mnenosyne and Hai Mousai, who boasted a large cult in their own right in Thespiae, I’ve both acquired a rosemary and now it’s festive:

Do you know how hard that key pattern is to do by hand? :-p guh… like stringing pearls, man, I swear.

…and, because I’m a dork, I’ve strung lights around the laurel — pretty much because i can:

Actually, the plants were decorated last week, but whatever.

As I finished up today’s cleaning, I asked the Theoi for their blessings upon the household in the coming year. Afterward, I showered (cos I hadn’t yet — and even if i had, I was suddenly covered in cleaning dust and stuff. I’m still not completely done with cleaning, but it’s clean enough in here for most rituals.

Then onward to the Ultra-Traditional New Year’s Meal™ (hint: I jest) of Whatever Crap i could Find In the Fridge. Actually, i had a rough idea of what i was going to do, but I ended up doing some scrounging to complete the meal.

Often are the times I just decide to throw a bunch of crap onto a pita, toss it in a 400°F oven for ten minutes, and call it a meal. This time, I found a little left-over thing that seemed to contain a tappenade, i think from Macaroni Grill, and so that means, if I think right, this little single-serve portion of finely chopped olives and other stuff cost about $4 — now that’s class:

I then crumbled a bunch of feta on top, halved some pitted kalamata olives, sliced some roasted, marinated garlic i get in this jar in the produce section (this garlic, I swear — almost as good as sex), and chopped up some leftover turkey. Threw some parmesian and the last 1/4oz of shredded Swiss on top so that it all sticks to the bread, and then….

As the timer tick-tick-ticked away ten minutes, I even dished out a festive holiday meal for the kitties:

OK, it’s the same crap they get every night when i have dinner, but it’s not like they know what day it is! [taps nose] I sort of wish i had some of the fancier wet food for the cats, but considering that I didn’t even have the money to throw myself a meal any fancier than Crap I Found In the Fridge, I’m not too worried.

Ding! Dinner’s up, and I settle in with tasty food and libate to the Theoi in gratitude and kharis, then wash my hands for ritual.

Honestly, this was completely unscripted, and I found myself offering praise to Theoi I typically don’t offer additional cultus to, such as Herakles, and whom I have not in quite a while, like Dionysos. And as I scooped up portions of pomegranate with my hand, praised the nymphai Whose springs have founded cities, and the heroes who founded Boeotia, Hesiod whose words influenced the whole of the Hellenic religions, all of Hellas, and even my own family line, both ancient and current generations.

I still have some divinations to perform, but here’s once last photo to satiate you people:

(the far-left dish contains both pomegranate arils and pieces of quince — both of which i only seem to get around this time of year)

http://eros.cycladic.gr/

Now through 5 April 2010, at the Museum of Cycladic Art in Athens is a seemingly huge Eros exhibit. Moments like this make me want a visit from the money fairy.

The site for the exhibition has plenty of information on Eros, including epithets and lots of art (though, I’m sure, a pretty far cry from all in the exhibit).

I still have other things to read that I’ll be posting before the new year.

So, this December 17th marks the Boeotian New Year (see here for the semblance of a reconstructed / new Boeotian calendar I managed to concoct), and reading a brief summary of a friend’s dream about Apollon jogged my memory of the weird things my brain threw at me last night.

In my dream, I was discussing with Eros a potential Boeotian New Year party, but the idea was still pretty much in embryo and I’d set nothing concrete. But Eros, being who he is, took it upon Himself to send out invitations to all of my friends for a party. The two weeks pass, and I really didn’t think much more of the idea of a party, since I have friends who host a pretty sweet Gregorian calendar New Year party, and that’s only two weeks after Boeotian New Year observances, so I didn’t think chances were high that anybody I could invite would come for an extra party.

…but no, the day of the party, I’m getting out of the shower for Gay Night at the club, and people have arrived for a party — while I’m in a towel, the apartment a mess, no snacks, etc…. I apologised for the misunderstanding, and invited them to come out with me, instead, and then more people show up. And then more. Then still more. And it was getting rather ridiculous, and many of them getting angry with me — some even accusing me of “having no piety at all” and just jerking my friends around.

But Eros wasn’t angry. He said that he thought he told me, and more importantly, he thought I had spoken of concrete plans and not just an idea I had thought about doing maybe. At some point, it became very clear to Him and myself that He was the only one the who wasn’t angry, so we locked ourselves in my room and performed a simple ritual with an offering of wine and fruit and performed divinations for the coming year until everybody had left.

link to PDF — right-click –> save as for Windows; double-click — > save as for Mac

An eighteen month calendar. I’ll probably come back to this every few months with a new one for the next eighteen months (cos I may be lazy, but I’m easily entertained by nerdology), or at least whenever I can unearth an update to festival dates, etc… I’m still considering this project a “constant work in progress”, so expect periodic tweaks for pretty much any conceivable reason.

And who knows? Maybe next year, I’ll make a fancy version for sale.

Also, if you download it, I’m not going to expect anything (but I can still see how many times this has been downloaded), but gee, it sure would be nice if you could take a look at the downloaded document, think about what this work is worth to you, and then mosey on over back here and go to the sidebar and scroll down to the Tip Jar.

I don’t remember where or when it was that I had personally first been made aware of Pink Narcissus, the masterpiece of gay erotica that was originally released under “Anonymous”, as the writer and director. The brilliant mind behind this work of art (and o, it is art) is painter and stage costume designer James Bidgood. In the 1950s, Bidgood began working with photography, and by the early 1960s he had already created a distinct and highly recognisable style that caught the attention of financiers for an “art film”. In 1963, filming began on Pink Narcissus, and was abruptly ended in 1970, when the financiers, feeling Bidgood was taking too long to finish, took the completed footage, sent it to an editor, and Bidgood, in possibly his most regretted decision, demanded his name be removed from the film on account of the fact that it didn’t yet match his vision for what it should have been.

Released in 1971, Pink Narcissus became a cult classic in art-house cinemas and gay theatres, the genius behind it somehow a mystery in spite of the highly recognisable style that carries almost every characteristic of Bidgood’s erotic photography. The sets are highly stylised fantasy — the bars of a cage are represented with strings of sequins sewn together, butterflies are crafted from wires and stockings and feathers, the trees and vines in The Wizard of Oz looked far more realistic, bright pink lighting washes nearly every surface — and many surfaces are sprinkled with glitter; hell, many of the same models he was fond of were also used in the film. How it took over thirty years for James Bidgood to finally be connected with Pink Narcissus is something I can only chalk up to that anachronistic shame associated with collecting old magazines like Young Physique.

It has been said by fans of Pink Narcussus of James Bidgood: “If only he’d put aside a little ego, or had a bit of luck, he could have been as famous as Andy Warhol.” Almost irnoic, as for years it was rumoured that Andy Warhol was actually the anonymous director of Pink Narcussis (a rumour that Warhol himself repeatedly denied). Indeed, luck is something Bidgood has needed for quite some time — he still lives in the tiny Manhattan studio where he filmed all but the “street scene” in Pink Narcissus (that scene was filmed at a friend’s loft), he merely “gets by” with his continued design work — he is poor and some of his teeth have gone bad — though, it is said, he and the star of his “μεγάλο έργο” (or “magnum opus”, if Latin is easier for you), Bobby Kendall, are still friends.

The Queer Reveries of James Bidgood

In the year 2000, James Bidgood was offered a deal with Taschen publishing and gay writer Bruce Benderson to release a monograph of Bidgood’s photographic work. A re-print was recently released, which I now own a copy of. One of the most striking things about Bidgood’s photography, after the elaborate sets that almost seem made for a Baroque stage, is the way he can create these breathtaking scenes yet they’re set in such a way as to bring your attention to the model and little else. Where photographers who specialise in nude women can benefit from harsh lighting to “wash out” certain aesthetic undesirables like the fine down on the jawline or belly or stretchmarks around the hips, photographers who specialise in male nudes benefit from shadow to bring out the fine definitions of muscle that too much light would wash out, making the model appear either chubby or frail. Though Bidgood’s published photographs have only rare instances of total nudity (and only one or two instances of full frontal, not counting stills from Pink Narcissus), the models tend to be clothed more often in skin-tight jeans and nothing on top, so the same rules would apply to bring out every line on the abdomen, every swooping shallow crevice of arm musculature. In the set entitled “Sandcastle”, one envisions Bobby Kendall and Jay Garvin as Eros and Himeros frolicking under the shadow of Nyx as lights flicker out, lapping at those perfect lines of legs, arms, backs, buttocks from between glittery branches.

Browsing through these photographs, I’m reminded of the leaner takes of the Hellenic ideal of antiquity. The thick trunks that athletes strode across Olympic fields on are now leaner, but just as well-muscled. Torsos that were much broader at the shoulders then seem much slimmer but just as tight.

The photography of James Bidgood seems divinely inspired at points. As if Eros and Apollon themselves, Theoi of the youthful ideal, whispered the directions for placement and lighting straight into Bidgood’s brain, emblazoned it into his psyche, and let the rest fall into place, as They knew it would. Even Bidgood’s proto-psychedelic interpretation of the Narkissos mythos plays out as if Bidgood had memorised every version of the tale, only to take what he wanted from a handful of fragmented retellings and let Erato guide the rest. Created at a time of homosexual repression and suppression, Pink Narcissus serves not as a cautionary tale against spurning suitors to the point of angering the Theoi, but instead a delicious celebration of the young male physique.

(I originally posted this in response to a thread on the Hellenistai forum. You can go there to comment or, if you’d prefer, comment here.)

Eris is a Goddess who is kind of like a Feminine counterpart to Ares and an “opposing forse” to Eros (in some Hellenic traditions, at least) in much the same way that Ares is an opposite to Aphrodite. Intriguingly, some mythos also pair Her as a “consort” or daughter of Ares similarly to how Eros is paired as a Son to Aphrodite — in that sense, like Eros, She has a “trickster” quality.

I don’t really worship Her in the way that some of my Discordian friends do, but like the nice ladies who already answered your question, I have a deep respect for Her. She’s nothing at all like the Christian view of Lucifer / Satan — she’s not actively malevolent, nor is she spiteful. She’s the goddess of Strife and Discord in the way that Eros is a God of Joy and Harmony — and just because Strife and Discord are unpleasant feelings doesn’t mean that they’re necessarily brought on by malevolent forces — likewise, joy and harmony can be brought about through active destruction (”schadenfreude”, as the Germans would say). Eris’ personality is more like that of the comic book standard of the “pixie girl” who causes trouble then feigns wide-eyed innocence that everybody who knows her knows is a crock — she doesn’t do it so much out of malevolence, but because it gives Her short-term amusement before moving on to the next victim of her pranks. In this sense, Eros and Eris and interconnected in a way similar to but far more intense than Aphrodite and Ares — remove Eros or Eris from each-other completely, and the other becomes completely meaningless, whereas removing Aphrodite from Ares or vice-versa makes the God of War seem psychotic and the Goddess of Love seem flaky, but otherwise viable on their own.

And in this way, I suppose, one could say that Eros and Eris are like the “trickster elder Gods” to Aphrodite and Ares’ more “mature” or “streamlined” younger Olympians.

I’ve spent a fair portion of today singing songs that make me think of Eros. I’ve also checked out The Mirror Palace on WordPress, and that blogger’s tag for Eros.

Here are some quotes I think you, if you’re reading this, might enjoy:

Thoughts On Eros
He is the bitter-sweet love of life, of love, of the world and of one’s soul. He draws his arrows and loosens them on the hearts of those who do not respect him – and those who do respect him. No one, god or mortal, is safe from his touch. Only his respect of Choice forces him to stay his hand when he would otherwise strike at the virgin goddesses with his all-consuming arrows.

He leads the winged loves, the Erotes, in their fluttering flight in Aphrodite’s footsteps. He treads child-delicately and youth-heavily, and he throws himself into love with the reckless abandon of Love itself. He sneers at those who would refuse his passions, and spreads his wings to cover those who follow where he walks. He lives in the company of the gods, but often prefers the touches of humans. He is sharp and cold and hot and soft, wild and civilised, dangerous and peaceful. He is the quick-fingered child-keeper of the heavens, the earth, the sky and the seas.

Googlism: Eros
eros is unlike anything else ever seen up close
eros is the drive toward the fulfillment of potential
eros is the greatest god
eros is a mysterious energy inherent in the whole of creation

eros is not merely the god of sensual love
eros is life

“They say that [the nymphe] Thespia was a daughter of Asopos, who gave her name to the city [of Thespiae, Boiotia].” – Pausanias, Guide to Greece 9.26.6

I downloaded a lunar calendar template from Sarah Kate Winter earlier today, and have been working most of the day on piecing together a mostly-Boeotian festival calendar — I’ve marked things that aren’t, but that I still celebrate, anyway, and have even included some of the more personal days, like the anniversary of my father’s death (the Nekysia), and other things of especial personal importance.

When I’m done with this, I’ll go back and take out all the personal things and save it (along with a brief sheet explaining what things are, and my justifications for adding some festival or another, and where in Boeotia some festivals originated) as a .PDF.

Now, I have a book signing next week, and so I’m still kind of busy with the last-minute preparations I have for that, but I should have it “done” by the end of August.

Of course, just so that anybody interested in using this along with me knows, I consider this calendar project essentially on-going, and may make updates to things as I learn more. Also, a lot more is known about the Attic festival calendar than the Boeotian, so some dates (and I will explain which ones in the accompanied letter) may shift wildly with the next update as I learn more due to the fact that both I felt this festival is significant enough to continue the tradition and because I had to hypothesise when in the year things may have occurred — or with at least one festival, I simply settled on the date for a near-identical Attic festival.

In recognition of this ding-danged “Hellenismos & Homosexuality / Homophobia” meme going around the Hellenic segment of the blogosphere lately, I have decided that my next tattoo will read “Βοιωτία Χοίροι” (Boeotia Swine), to commemorate the fact that “Classical Attic” values have no relevance to me; and to those that such “values” do hold relevance to, kind people, I revel in what you must think of me.

In fact, I think I’ll start identifying my sexuality that way — oh, it may not be “historically accurate” (as per Pindar), but as a euphemism, it gets the point across.