I've been reading about the DSM V and the debates about what was to be left in and left out. I've been rereading Moses Finley's polished words about the bronze age, brought to tears by this: "The profundity of the Greeks' kinship attachment, throughout their history, is immediately apparent for their passion for genealogies." Which led me to the Odyssey, Telemachus, and fathers, and the idea of home and strangers and return, and wishing that people might be a little more forgiving, a little less blind.
This weekend I went again to the Legion with Callum to see the second part of the Artful Animals exhibition. There was an engraving of Penelope, sitting before her loom, contemplating something: her problems; her handiwork; life? A chapter of my dissertation was titled "Penelope's Web" and dealt with the writing of the history of women's contributions to the decorative arts, in particular work in textiles (a feminist re-telling of women's needlework as profession, rather than enforced pastime). Perhaps I should resuscitate it and try to publish it. I loved that chapter as it allowed me to use my interests in ancient history and literature while honoring the women who were pioneers in British academia (for example, the archaeologist, Jane Harrison), who became designers through the Royal School of Art Needlwork, and were expert seamstresses before losing their eyesight and becoming garden designers (Gertrude Jeckyll).
Detail of Max Klinger's color etching and aquatint, Penelope, 1896.
Oh, she is a fin-de-siècle lass, isn't she? She must go to parties with the young women envisioned by Leighton and Alma-Tadema. And I love her for it.
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