Ekphrasis no. 2

Tucked away among the ruins of Ostia Antica appears none other than a glorious human derriere. So fine, it is unrivaled (in my humble opinion) by the many nude backsides that live in the Galleria Borghese, the Capitoline Museum, the Vatican Museum, or perhaps any other dwelling of fine Roman art from antiquity. It is not a real one in the flesh, as you might have guessed, but one made of rock--white in color, presumably marble, but something about the material's color and texture suggest otherwise. It is visibly weathered, but considering the age of the ancient city it is not nearly as weathered as it could be. Aside from the weathering there is a dimple, or rather a small but sizable chunk missing, in the upper right cheek. The figure's torso is hunched over, almost as if the body is curled up. Its right leg is firmly planted, its left leg lifted forward. From a side view appears what looks like a tree stump, or perhaps a random cylinder, on which the left foot, partially broken off, is resting. A partially chipped off Latin inscription is on the front of the stump. The right arm and head have been removed. A long piece of fabric with a decorative edge is draped over the left thigh, hanging off of either side, keeping both the knee and calf exposed. The left calf muscle in particular is very defined and prominent, especially when compared to the more restful right leg. Moving around to the front of the statue, we see that the fabric covers the left arm from below the shoulder down to the wrist.

(title unknown, artist unknown, Ostia Antica)

Ekphrasis no. 1

A mass of glossy, unruly black matter. Out of it appears the small figure of a young boy, seemingly no older than a toddler, baby fat still intact. Below him is a wrinkled, lived-in (well-loved?) sheet. He is lying on his back, his body on a slope. His right leg sticks out toward my view. It is calm and clearly resting. The left leg is in a more engaged stance: the knee is bent and the foot sits firmly on the cloth. The boy's torso curves slightly back and to the left, as if he is reaching for something. His right arm extends behind his head, elbow bent and hand gently clenched. Near this hand is the crown of his head, where pomegranates and leaves are nestled into his flowing locks of hair. His left hand is also closed, this time resting on the sheet beside his abdomen, pomegranates present. The boy's face explains it all. He is in an ecstasy-inducing sleep: his eyes are shut tightly but softly, his tiny lips are pulled apart just enough. But he is not the only one who sleeps. Below the left side of his head, which is presumably off in a grand dreamland as his countenance would suggest, is a squirrel. It is curled up to the sheet, front legs kept close to its head, where there are holes instead of ears. The tail end of the squirrel is elevated, while its head is further down. Its fluffy tail hangs lackadaisically off of the base, reflecting the states of both boy and squirrel.

(Il Sonno (1635/1636) by Alessandro Algardi, Galleria Borghese)