Oil on canvas 2m by 2m
Icarus died flying; ignoring his father’s admonitions, exultation and lack of caution sent him too high, where the rarefied atmosphere would not support his weight and the wax of his humanity melted, plunging him to oblivion.
Yet it is Icarus, not his father, Dedaelus, which we celebrate. His father flew and survived to shed tears for his son’s wasted life.
My Icarus is not allowed to fly; the wings of his imagination and possibility are firmly tethered. It is for his own good; he would kill himself. It is the condition of the artist
Yet, again, it is that very aspiration, the attempt that makes man occasionally noble. Tied down his muscles become weak and his feathers will lose their colour: his glorious anger will become tepid acceptance and disillusion-.
As a teacher I watch what well-intentioned systems can do to the fledgling potentials before me; enthusiasm and originality dampened to acceptance and conformity.. This image is about my frustration.
But myths are universal, they should not be limited to specific cases; this image is about any moment that you feel that your potential is tied down – with chains or subtle gossamer threads.