The Forest Dark

Doré’s White Rose - Illustration to Dante’s Divine Comedy, Paradiso by Gustave Doré. Plate 34.

Dante and Beatrice and the Heavenly Host of Angels
(Canto 31: The Saintly Throng in the Form of a Rose)

Last Sunday of 2012!

And here’s the Christmas installment of Dore Sunday!
This is one of the few Dore watercolors out there, and it’s quite possibly one of my favorite paintings.

Merry Christmas!

Gustave Doré - La Nuit de Noël (18??)

Dore Sunday is here!

Don Quixote I by Miguel de Cervantes: The Don on His First Sally Forth (1863)

Hechas, pues, estas prevenciones, no quiso aguardar más tiempo a poner en efecto su pensamiento, apretándole a ello la falta que él pensaba que hacía en el mundo su tardanza, según eran los agravios que pensaba deshacer, tuertos que enderezar, sinrazones que enmendar, y abusos que mejorar, y deudas que satisfacer;

y así, sin dar parte a persona alguna de su intención, y sin que nadie le viese, una mañana, antes del día (que era uno de los calurosos del mes de Julio), se armó de todas sus armas, subió sobre Rocinante, puesta su mal compuesta celada, embrazó su adarga, tomó su lanza, y por la puerta falsa de un corral, salió al campo con grandísimo contento y alborozo de ver con cuánta facilidad había dado principio a su buen deseo.

(These preliminaries settled, he did not care to put off any longer the execution of his design, urged on to it by the thought of all the world was losing by his delay, seeing what wrongs he intended to right, grievances to redress, injustices to repair, abuses to remove, and duties to discharge.

So, without giving notice of his intention to anyone, and without anybody seeing him, one morning before the dawning of the day (which was one of the hottest of the month of July) he donned his suit of armour, mounted Rocinante with his patched–up helmet on, braced his buckler, took his lance, and by the back door of the yard sallied forth upon the plain in the highest contentment and satisfaction at seeing with what ease he had made a beginning with his grand purpose.)

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote I (1605)

WHAT! Dore Sunday has arrived! With the end of the year in the horizon, the hiatus shall be lifted, and Dore Sunday shall be a regular feature again. And with that, I lead you to the gates of a very lovely land, visited upon by everyone’s favorite Italian, Dante Alighieri!

Dante’s Divine Comedy: Inferno, Canto III - Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here (1861)

[“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.”]

These words in sombre colour I beheld
Written upon the summit of a gate.

-Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Canto III [Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Translation] (1308)

Nobody expects Dore Sunday!

Here’s a graphic illustration from Doré that perfectly summarizes part of Montaigne’s intent with his Essais.

Essais - Scene of Inquisition (1877)

I have never seen a greater monster or miracle than myself.

-Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, Essais (1580)

After a brief hiatus, Dore Sunday has returned triumphantly!

Entre ciel et terre (1862)

Turns out the people of Strasbourg were kinda dicks who would tie frogs to kites and bet on which one would get eaten first by the albatrosses, just for teh lulz. Ah, the good ol’ days.

Nobody expects DORE SUNDAY!

With last week’s grand internet outage/week-long hangover, many things were left at the mercy of the queue, amongst them the absent Dore Sunday.

So.

Here’s a treat to make up for it:

Gustave Doré’s Cavalier Abreuvant Son Cheval (1879), a rare watecolor by the master of engraving.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t dig up much info on it, so we’ll let the picturesque scene speak for itself.

It’s a late-in-the-day Dore Sunday!

I’m currently playing Assassin’s Creed for the first time, so here’s a somewhat relevant piece. Also, my love of angels as mythological figures isn’t unheard of, so… yup, deal with it.

It’s not exactly a subtle image, but then again, it wasn’t quite a subtle time in history.

Joseph François Michaud’s History of The Crusades: The Road To Jerusalem - A luminous angel guides the Crusaders marching at night (1877)

Two weeks ago I posted a funny one, last week I got lazy, and this week it’s only appropriate to pay tribute to Dore Sunday!

Inhonor of NASA’s Curiosity Rover’ landing upon Mars, here’s a piece from the last part of Dante’s Divine Comedy, Paradiso.

Dante’s Divine Comedy: Paradiso, Canto XIV - Dante and Beatrice ascend to the sphere of Mars (1868)

As leads the galaxy from pole to pole,
Distinguish’d into greater lights and less,
Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;
So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,
Those rays describ’d the venerable sign,
That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.

-Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy: Paradiso, Canto XIV [H.F. Cary Translation] (1308)

http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/gustave-dore/the-inferno-canto-32-1#supersized-artistPaintings-201982

32-2

aristomephisto:

fledglinglucifer:

Michael

you know what Michael

YOU KNOW WHAT

MAYBE IF YOU DIDN’T STOMP
ON MY HEAD EVERY CHANCE YOU GOT

I MEAN GODDAMN, MAN, IT’S BECOME
SOME SORT OF OBSESSION WITH YOU

MICHAEL WOULD YOU JUST-

FUCK.

But seriously:

After taking last week off, here’s Dore Sunday!

And we’re back to London! Specifically, to Whitechapel*, which seems like a somewhat unsavory place, but today’s piece features a coffee house, and since I’m doing a 19 hour shift today, coffee is my friend, and its home shall be showcased.

London: A Pilgrimage - A Whitechapel Coffee House (1872)

Forlorn men, women, and children, and a spacious township peopled with them, from cellars to attics—from the resort of the sewer-rat to the nest of the sparrow in the chimney-stack—make up that realm of suffering and crime which adventurous people visit with as much ceremony and provision of protection as belated travellers across Finchley Common used in the middle of last century.

-Blanchard Jerrold, London: A Pilgrimage (1872)

*See? It’s actually possible to bring up Whitechapel without delving into Jack The Ripper!

Right down to the wire, but here’s Dore Sunday!

Now that we’re past the midway point of the year, expect to see a lot more ass-kicking angelic imagery. Read nothing into my beliefs based on said images; I just happen to think the mythological concept of angels is fascinating and cool.

So. Enjoy a pic from one of the best works of angelic ass-kickery, Paradise Lost.

Paradise Lost - Plate 14: Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill Satan hath journey’d on, pensive and slow (1866)

Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill
Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;
But further way found none, so thick entwined,
As one continued brake, the undergrowth
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexed
All path of man or beast that passed that way.

-John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667)

Slightly belated, but here’s Dore Sunday!

Here’s yet another image of London, showing the hustle & bustle of this fascinating city (which I would really really like to visit someday.)

London: A Pilgrimage - London Bridge (1872)

London Bridge stretches across the river.
London Bridge and the Pont Neuf are the two historical bridges of the world: bridges charged with mystery, romance, and tragedy.

It is curious to see the eager faces that crowd to the sides of a steamer from the ocean when London Bridge is fairly outlined against the horizon, and the dome of St. Paul’s rises behind. This is the view of London which is familiar to all civilized peoples.

Le Pont de Londres! the Frenchman exclaims, carrying his vivacious eyes rapidly over its proportions.
The laden barges are sweeping through the arches, dipping sails and masts as they go;
the Express boats are shooting athwart the stream above bridge;
the Citizen boats are packed to the prow;
the Monument stands clearly out of the confusion;
the parapet of the bridge is crowded with dull faces looking down upon us as we swing about towards the sea again:
we perceive the slow, unbroken stream of heavy traffic trailing to and fro, behind the gaping crowd, over the bridge.

The deep hum of work-a-day London is upon us, and the churchbells are musical through it, singing the hour to the impatient moneymakers!

-Blanchard Jerrold, London: A Pilgrimage (1872)