Wednesday, January 20, 2010
In the Metropolitan Museum, opposite the Young Hercules, stands the Mature Hercules. His presence has no need to scream at you in the manner of the Young Hercules. After drinking your fill of the young form, you turn to the Mature Hercules and realize that the Young Hercules is a little over the top. The Mature Hercules stands with dignity, a lion's pelt covering his head and forming a cape down his back. His nose, flanked by furrowed cheeks, is crooked from battle. Rather than surveying the room with youthful vigor, the Mature Hercules' gaze points inward. He has already seen things and now examines himself. Still muscle bound (he is Hercules, after all), the muscles have elongated and become leaner. One hand rests on a club, the other on his hip. The light hits him at a softer angle, revealing a calm self assurance. In the shadows hide other layers whose perception requires patience.