On the Homeric shore
THE SLENDER LINE OF MYTH running through the works of Natalia Mela makes them resemble the creatures that hover on the horizons of our imagination. It is as if we had never inherited anything from their era, and as if they are a discreet, distilled version of our own forms. Their symbolic counterweight, on the other hand, links them to the earth's memory, our earth's memory, where, as our mutual friend, Michel Deon, says, «mythology pulls you by the lapels».
Winged Hermes, with his superb winged wand, cuddling a lamb in his arms, his light footsteps, slightly raised as if he is picking up speed, running, ready to fly, his eyes looking straight ahead, like a leading man, standing apart from his public in order to deliver his monologue. Poseidon, the old man and master of the sea, is the triumphant fisherman. And Artemis in her long tunic, wearing something «simple but elegant»; protected by those two enormous, four-footed monsters, seems to be saying, «Come close... if you dare».