beacons

 

i have been contemplating this painting for years now, and its a timeless classic. i share its emotions and its classical struggle. once in a while when i find myself in Paris i have the chance to admire it. today i contemplate it from a screen and even though im not physcally in front of the painting itself, it evokes so many memories in me, that i feel transported beyond the scenario of this representation but into its many concepts inside me.

the flotsam brake the waves while a bunch of men cling on their last hopes. the blueish and grey tones convert your awe into fear while you admire the scenography of the injured and dehidrated, the dead and the barely alive. it reeks of rot and inhumane. from what we know, Géricault was much invested in telling us a story, which event as gruesome as it was deserved do be immortal in history.

The Raft of the Medusa is masterful example of art, concept and anatomy. but it is so much more than that, it's a tale of how humans are resilient in the hardest of moments, it's a tale of courage within the vile harships of life. and because of that, like a moth to a flame, im attracted to what i conisider is a mirror of some aspects of my life or myself even.

even though the composition is as heavy as it can be, it finishes in a focal point where a man waves for what it seems to be a beacon in the middle of unknown. in small point in the horizon where he seems to spot a glimmer of solace. while i admire this, a plethora of thoughts run through an emotional spectrum, and i force myself to i close my eyes because i still hope that small beacon is still there, and that it just takes one moment of belief to turn our lives around. i pray that we may one day find strength in hope.