Pygmalion's Brush

There is the 'Pygmalion' mythology and the masterpiece of the same name by the venerable George Bernard Shaw. The entire hullabaloo is traditional to us - I getting inspired by Sarah Polyakov 's artwork, and then trying to make good of it. We have collaborated on a few, and this is in line with the tradition of ekphrasis art.

This attempt is simple - go by the adage 'A picture is worth a thousand words' - so I have taken a thousand words to tell this story in a poetic narrative way. It is long, so bear with me.

Pygmalion's brush means that it is his 'paintbrush' in a way, as indicated by the girl ( I presume as Galatea) in this picture, as I have applied my creative liberty, and the second brush is the 'brush of his lips' against hers, to bring her alive.

Pygmalion’s brush

Listen to this beautiful tale of immortal love

Of a Cypriot king and his perfect sculpture?

Which all started with that celibate vow

That shall hold us in intense rapture

A curse and a boon, these interventions divine?

By those Grecian Goddesses of romance?

How an inert sculpture can grow a spine?

When heartful love is given a chance.?

Part 1 – Venus’s Curse

In a world that needed faith in the divine?

If one had the potion of love as a bonus

A catalyst for romance, as smooth as wine?

Stands apart, soaked in wine, our God Venus.

For every single one who tends to believe?

A thousand hover like the clouds hiding the sun?

Like the Propoetides, who schemed and deceived?

Denying Venus her place, mocking her as a pagan.?

From a whisper at first, it grew into a roaring thunder?

Even the staunch believers just began to wonder?

For we know when a lie is a thousand times told?

Truth hides somewhere and is left in the cold.?

As clouds of doubt gathered slowly above?

The blasphemous canards rose from below?

Surprised first and now angry, the Goddess of love

Who are the wicked ones with thoughts so shallow?

Her white skin glowed with unbridled wrath?

A bastion of love, she treads the angry path?

Non-belief is one thing, blasphemy is another?

their wagging tongues, they shall better tether?

Prospeotides’ mischief gets a tad worse?

What a way to get in line for a divine curse?

A froth forms as brimming wrath flows over

Nowhere can the culprits now run for cover.?

‘When you trample my repute for your vanity

Vie you with perpetual dalliance in promiscuity?

The world shall listen to your notorious fame

You shall possess no sense of shame.’

‘Thirsty with lush, you will forever rush,?

Your cheeks shall lose all power to blush?

Turn into a hard flint on a slender touch

With all that, there is nothing left much.’?

With a curse that they never saw in their dream

The Propeotides plead, plough, and scream

Non-belief is one thing, blasphemy is another?

The curse stands now, and perhaps, forever.?

Part 2 – Pygmalion’s vow

‘Peace is a beautiful thing’ - Pygmalion thinks aloud

He wonders if his reign makes his citizens proud

Soliloquy submerged in the summer rain from heaven?

A bit of shine forms the arc with a color of seven.?

Peace is a fickle thing, for beautiful things are fickle?

A cloud appears on the horizon and his senses tickle

A foreboding sense like a dark river flows within?

For he wants to steer his nation away from sins.?

For good to win, destiny has to show its hands sinister

Breathless and baffled, here comes a scared minister

‘The Propeotides are luring our men, oh my king’

‘I daren't say- a promiscuous society is in the making.’

Such a fall! - the news that Pygmalion could never take

For he knows that Propeotides were of royal make

Yet, they have slipped and fallen into this deep abyss?

If women hold their counsel, the nation rests in peace.?

Women’s smiles can sail a thousand ships indeed?

Brave men they create, with the love and care they feed

Pygmalion weeps in silence - ‘My nation loves its women

And it is our woman who makes this barren land heaven.’

‘Yet, a nation goes berserk when its women go astray

Devolution leads to disaster and disaster to dismay?

I detest the faults in our women and their faltered ways

I shall remain celibate, and my mind shall never go astray.’

The distraught king searches for his chisel and hammer

Deep in his upset mind, an image slowly forms in a blur

His hands touching the cold rock for that moment?

Imperfect and lifeless for now, but it was his turn to vent.?

Part 3 – Galatea is born (Pygmalion’s brush): The Sculpture

As he caresses the cold block of marble?

His mind is chaotic, his thoughts garbled?

Slowly, steadily, he revives himself without a rush

He collects the chisel, hammer, palette, and brush.?

A new morning beckons, he shall turn a new leaf?

Riding on his celibacy vow, hiding away his grief?

His mind slowly churns, imagination his forte?

A beautiful maiden shapes in his mental porte.?

The marble melts in his one last, deep stare

Unshaply edges stripped, the curves lay bare?

Shaped with the deft strokes of hammer and chisel?

His vision flows into his hands, as he slowly whistles.

?

The sculpture shines in splendorous white?

like the milky full moon after a chaotic twilight

Caressing the contours, softly, without any rush?

The final touches from Pygmalion’s brush

His firm heart skips a beat, slides, and swerves??

Savoring the beauty of her voluptuous curves

If all the beauty his creation could capture?

Its unfathomable beauty holds him in rapture?

Here is when, Galatea, his mind maiden is born?

The last fringes of his celibate vow are now gone

Chipped by his chisel, she is now his eternal crush

A coy smile, at the last touch of Pygmalion’s brush.?

?

He stands there, her Creator, now on wobbly knees?

His heart races, her beauty now an endless tease?

A fleeting thought in his mind, he slowly wonders?

Can God unite them and not keep them asunder?

Part 4 – Prayer to Aphrodite?

Through sleepless nights, he twists and turns

Lost in love, his uneasy mind feverishly churns?

Can I be with you, my dear Galatea, forever?

Walk on our beaches holding our hands together?

The day is not far perhaps, for every worthy wish

The Universe creates those moments we cherish?

Pretty and pure, paths lead to some Almighty?

The answers could lie at the altar of Aphrodite.?

The day comes, the day of festivals and prayers?

A carnival is born, of hawkers and soothsayers?

Prayers and plays, all about the Goddess of love?

To bring Her attention to those pleading below?

He sets forth to pray and offer at her altar divine

His mind desperately looking for a favorable sign

Words stuck and tongue-tied, teeth become fence,

He dithers and fears, but pleads in soulful silence

His celibate vows are gone and he swallows his pride

Slowly, now surely, his words flow and his tongue unfurls

I pray and wish to marry and marry only such bride

-who bears such living likeness of my soulful ivory girl.?

The woman I shall love and will forever cherish?

Hold her high and shower love, till the day I perish?

Bless me, Almighty Aphrodite, for I fervently wish?

A woman of my dreams, and my life shall flourish.?

Part 5- Galatea is born (Pygmalion’s brush):? The Lover?

He stands before her, with wobbly knees?

Cold on touch, she stands silent and still?

Frigid, white, and cold, yet the way she does tease?

Will she, Galatea, ever bend to his romantic will?

A little yellow on her white, as the sunbeams dance

Her cold mellows soaking them in, her skin now warm?

Mesmerizing in his romantic heart, he falls into a trance

Why won’t she fall, if he tried his tactile charm?

A little touch, then his finger runs slow on her arms

Bristles of his mustache brush against her face?

Slowly, and slowly…her locked lips grow warm

That feeling of life, love with resplendent grace.?

As they cuddle and embrace, he wonders anew

A Creator can fall for his creation, so madly in love?

How the divine listens to such love, pure and true

A story that can be told, forever, by those stars above.?

Part 6:? Happily Ever After?

If a girl could kiss a frog, and that could turn a prince

A king could kiss a statue - that a story not to wince

Galatea breathes and smiles, with such grace and poise,?

She accepts his proposal to marry on the date of her choice.?

The bride and the groom ride on a four-horse carriage

To the altar of Aphrodite, on the day of their marriage

The sculpture and sculptor propitiate and pray to her?

For a long, loving life, and to be together forever.

?

Time flies like birds, beautiful memories they adorn

A baby girl, the fruit of their love, arrives one dawn

‘Paphos,’ they call her, and that makes a city?

Her name, they say, will be etched for eternity.?

A tale of ivory, hammer, chisel, and paintbrush

How a creation becomes a creator’s crush

That comes alive, again when their lips brush

A story of love and life, forever rich and lush.?

If you have reached this far, I thank you sincerely for your patience. I love this piece, and if you do, leave a comment.

~Ashok Subramanian (C) 2023