Message from @Deleted User
Discord ID: 500537911276732417
Piece of art that really speaks to me.
Where is it from?
looks like American, but the crowns are throwing me off
It's a custom graphic a guy I know on Instagram did, based on the heraldry of the princes of hanover.
American 🅱 onarchy
This invokes quite a powerful sense of audacity
Kinda reminds me of Gustove Dore.
Ayyyy
He did a lot of illustrations for paradise lost and greek classics
I see what you mean with his biblical stuff
If I were ever to get tattoos, it would be in a similar style to these depictions
Yeah I just love the kind of eerie contrast from the shades of black and white.
Those, and baroque, biblical-y pastels are the best
My fav painting of Napoleon by Jean-Auguste-Dominique
I prefer the cheesy one on the rearing horse 😏
Hell yeah, I think it's called crossing the alps or something? idk
I have my own sepetate server for architecture and arts, so I'm loaded with content to share lads js
lol
Nice
*"The Lament for Icarus" Herbert James Draper - 1898*
I have a soft spot for these
I'm not sure what you would call that style but I love it.
A favorite poem of mine *Uriel* by Ralph Waldo Emerson
It fell in the ancient periods
Which the brooding soul surveys,
Or ever the wild Time coined itself
Into calendar months and days.
This was the lapse of Uriel,
Which in Paradise befell.
Once among the Pleiads walking,
Said overheard the young gods talking,
And the treason too long pent
To his ears was evident.
The young deities discussed
Laws of form and metre just,
Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams,
What subsisteth, and what seems.
One, with low tones that decide,
And doubt and reverend use defied,
With a look that solved the sphere,
And stirred the devils everywhere,
Gave his sentiment divine
Against the being of a line:
"Line in nature is not found,
Unit and universe are round;
In vain produced, all rays return,
Evil will bless, and ice will burn."
As Uriel spoke with piercing eye,
A shudder ran around the sky;
The stern old war-gods shook their heads,
The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds;
Seemed to the holy festival,
The rash word boded ill to all;
The balance-beam of Fate was bent;
The bonds of good and ill were rent;
Strong Hades could not keep his own,
But all slid to confusion.
A sad self-knowledge withering fell
On the beauty of Uriel.
In heaven once eminent, the god
Withdrew that hour into his cloud,
Whether doomed to long gyration
In the sea of generation,
Or by knowledge grown too bright
To hit the nerve of feebler sight.
Straightway a forgetting wind
Stole over the Celestial kind,
And their lips the secret kept,
If in ashes the fibre-seed slept.
But now and then truth-speaking things
Shamed the angels' veiling wings,
And, shrilling from the solar course,
Or from fruit of chemic force,
Procession of a soul in matter,
Or the speeding change of water,
Or out of the good of evil born,
Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn;
And a blush tinged the upper sky,
And the gods shook, they knew not why.