#jaume barba

[zegalba]

Jaume Barba: The Kiss of Death (1930) sculpture in the Poblenou cemetery, Barcelona.

[thewindowofthesummerhouse]

Jaume Barba

[dead-bugg-j]

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

The Kiss of Death.

Available in ArteFeudo’s Etsy shop.

[sofea-00]

La escultura conocida como "El Beso de la Muerte", ubicada en el cementerio de Poblenou en Barcelona, España, es una obra de mármol atribuida a los escultores Jaume Barba o Joan Fontbernart. Realizada en 1930, adorna la tumba del empresario textil Josep Llaudep Soler y representa a la muerte personificada como un esqueleto alado que besa a un joven. Inspirada en versos del poeta catalán Jacinto Verdaguer, la escultura combina elementos de romanticismo y terror, provocando una respuesta emocional compleja en los espectadores.

Conocimientum

[macabremayhem]

"The night – tho' clear – shall frown –

And the stars shall look not down,

From their high trones in the heaven,

With light like Hope to mortals given –

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy weariness shall seem

As a burning and a fever

Which would cling to thee for ever."

© E. A. Poe

Has Death paid you enough attention, young man?

/�� Lunatic Sun/

reference 🔻🔻🔻

The Kiss of Death is a marble sculpture created in 1930, located in Poblenou Cemetery in Barcelona.

Artist: Jaume Barba

[underafullmoon3]

The Kiss Of Death Statue At The El Poblenou Cemetery In Barcelona.

The sculpture is believed to have been crafted by Jaume Barba in 1930, as his signature is present on the side of the sculpture.

[callmeanxietygirl]

El beso de muerte (El petó de la mort en catalán) es una escultura de mármol que se encuentra en el Cementerio de Poblenou, en Barcelona. La escultura ha sido atribuida a Jaume Barba, aunque otros la atribuyen a Joan Fontbernat. La escultra muestra a la muerte en forma de un esqueleto alado dando un beso a un joven.

La escultura se encuentra sobre la tumba del empresario textil Josep Llaudet Soler. Fue esculpida en 1930. El epitafio de la tumba, en la basa de la escultura contiene la siguiente inscripción:

"Y su joven corazón no puede ayudar; en sus venas la sangre se detiene y se congela y el ánimo perdido abraza la fe. Cae sintiendo el beso de la muerte.

Amén".

Versos del poeta catalán Jacinto Verdaguer.

Se cree que esta escultura inspiró El séptimo sello, de Ingmar Bergman.

En vez de escoger un ángel alado para describir la muerte, el escultor escogió un esqueleto. El erotismo del beso es palpable desde el momento en el que se interpreta como la bienvenida por parte del joven a la muerte como pareja. La escultura es, a la vez, romántica y terrorífica, lo que lleva a diferentes puntos de vista en los que la ven. Atrae y repele al mismo tiempo, el impulso del tacto se mezcla con las ganas de huir.

[transskywardsword]

[image description: a digital art piece of the Fierce Deity and Hylia based off of 'the Kiss of Death' sculpture by Jaume Barba. The Fierce Deity kneels down facing the viewer with his head tilted back and a look of exhausted relief on his face. Hylia, a brown-skinned woman with wild, floating golden hair and feathery wings colored blue, red, and green after the three golden goddesses, leans over him and kisses his temple. golden light radiates from them, and the background is solid black. End description[

SO @thebleedingeffect has this theory abt the fierce deity being the first hero and i adore it so. much. and i always think of the kiss of death as the ultimate hero & hylia sculpture, so when i was sketching them today i decided to draw him instead of my usual first hero design, and i'm really glad i did. I see this as happening right after the last battle with demise. the deity is ready to rest, but that's not in the stars for him, unfortunately......... ;)

anyways yeah. i hope you like it echo!!

[sapphic-fangirl]

I love it when I find Thrawn-centric reimaginings of classic art. If anyone finds/decides to make more art like this, PLASE tag me. It's wonderful and amazing in general, but this has to be one of my favorites so far. "The Kiss of Death" by Jaume Barba is one of my favorite sculptures. I always found it facinating & beautiful. I also once found a SW:Rebels version of "Dante and Virgil" by William-Adolphe Bouguereau that depicted Thrawn beating Kallus in single combat like the two main figures in the origional painting. I don't remember if it was on here or another site.

There really needs to be more content like this that combines Thrawn and classic/iconic art, whether it be as a figure in the artwork like this or even depicting him in the style of a famous classical artist. Personally, I'd absolutely love to see him in the style of Vincent Van Gogh, since he's one of my favorite artists. I absolutely adore his use of color, shapes, and especially paint textures in his work. It would be interesting to see the Grand Admiral painted in that style, to say the least 🤔

[invinciblerodent]

Warden Tristan of the Grey; "Rook"

"So what are you? Spirit, or human?"

"I don’t know. Both, and neither. Maybe I’m a separate entity, a perfect synergy. Or just… a person. You know better than I."

(Template)

Arie Aeducan (The Warden-Commander)

Raymond Percival Trevelyan (The Inquisitor)

Under the cut, I wrote out the inciting incident of my idea for one of the Rooks I'm planning- an undead human man who had originally fought at Ostagar, and then became a Grey Warden. ❤️ (1.2k words, no spoilers beyond the prologue of Origins.)

[The painting used is Pedro Américo's "Visão de Hamlet", and the sculpture is "The Kiss of Death" ("El petó de la mort"), attributed to either Jaume Barba or Joan Fontbernat.]

This was the end.

He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he knew.

His body was dying.

It was only a question of minutes now, before the last sparks of consciousness, the last moments of lucidity would fade slowly from his sluggish mind… before his ruined, crushed, broken body would finally give out, and slip into blessed oblivion, return to the Maker’s side.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This couldn’t be the end. There was still so much he hadn’t done, so many battles he had yet to fight, so many kisses he had yet to share... he hadn’t even had his first taste of beer yet, hadn’t danced at his wedding, so many sights yet to see, so many things to learn, books to read, cities to visit, and here he yet lay…

Dying.

And the worst part was that it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried.

Maker knows he did.

He just had not been good enough.

Sure, he had sent several of those wretched monsters into the Void ahead of himself, and he was reasonably proud of that, it still was not enough-- not nearly enough.

The last thing he remembered was the blow that felled him. An unexpected hurlock’s club that rattled his teeth and sprung hot, searing agony from the point where it caved in his cheaply made helm… he remembered the sound, the horrific crunch of bone grinding on bone, as his skull cracked in two.

The second blow, the one that hit his side and dented the metal of his cobbled-together chestplate, had ruptured something deep within, and he didn’t even feel it anymore as he crumpled to the ground in a clatter of metal and flesh.

He hadn’t had the time to scream before the enormous foot of the ogre would have smashed into his crumpled, suddenly tiny body, tossing it several feet into the air like a rag doll, and then down onto the ground, into the rough vicinity of several of his already dead comrades.

Any minute now.

Any minute now, his panicked, stubborn, ever-fluttering sparrow of a heart would betray him, and stop pumping.

For fuck’s sake, he had to get up.

With only seventeen years and this one cursed battle under his belt, this wasn’t how he had planned to go. This fate, this, was not his- he was to be a great man, an honorable man, not another nameless soldier, another skull plucked clean by the crows and bleached by the Sun, not another heart stuttering to a stop on the eve of this massacre.

He had to stand.

But Maker, was he tired.

His legs, they would not move. They wouldn’t budge an inch, no matter how he commanded, demanded, pleaded and bargained with his very body- but damn it, he would not give up. Not now. Not ever. Not while his body still held a twinkle of life in it.

He always was a stubborn creature.

His mother had always said so-- stubborn as a mule and twice as hearty, she used to say as she ruffled his duff-dark hair. He heard her voice ring in his head now. She would never have let him leave, had he not underplayed the importance of this battle severely as he had. A mistake in retrospect- but one he would have made over and over again, if given a chance.

With the carrion-birds circling above, and the chunk of the sky within his vision slowly brightening, the boy tried to muster the energy to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the sting of the morning’s glow, but it stayed rigid beneath the handle of his bent sword- useless and corpse-stiff.

So his eyes faced forward, firm, unblinking, as the sharp light slowly gathered, coalesced like spilled mercury into a vaguely humanoid shape before him.

‘This must be Andraste,’ the boy thought, his voice distant even in his own mind as he looked upon the brilliant apparition, the radiant being the body of which seemed not to be constrained by borders.

It spoke with a hollow voice.

“Be at ease, for I seek not to hurt you,” it said, its voice neither detectable as feminine or masculine, but one of nameless comfort that rang so intimately close, it was as if it had come from within his very skull. It would have been beautiful, had it not sounded so mournful, so ethereal.

The boy blinked once, then twice more. “Who are you?” he tried to ask, but felt no breath inflate his lungs or rush past his lips.

“I am known by many names, child,” the apparition replied, “Persistence… Resilience… the inexorable clutch of Will. I am the wind in the sails of a conquering fleet, and the earth beneath the soles of pilgrims-- I am the instinct that thrums in the blood of monsters and men that draws them to clash, and the mother’s arms as they cradle a child to shield her from harm. I am Principle, Perseverance, Pride.”

“Are you… a demon?”

The figure chuckled, eerie and cold-- maybe even offended. “Demon, Spirit, Soul and Presence, these are the words of mortals- and as such, they are superficial, crude. They reflect not my perfect nature.” It paused. “But if it pleases you, you may address me as Purpose.”

“Why are you speaking to me?” The boy couldn’t feel himself asking the question, but he nevertheless heard his own voice, clear and strong now- and he wanted to wince. Compared to the apparition’s gentle murmur in the recesses of his mind, simply thinking felt as if he had been shouting.

“Why would I not?” Purpose replied, “Where the blood of men is shed, the Veil is fine as silk- all it needs to slip through is but a gentle press, and your will, your persistence… they call to me like an aroma irresistible. How could I not wish to speak to the one whose strength of heart, whose fortitude, is so sweet?”

“Does that mean you want to… feed on me, somehow?”

“No, dear one. I merely wish to observe.” It paused once more. “You are a creature most intriguing. Your final moments should have come hours prior- yet stubbornly, willfully, your heart keeps fluttering just so, your body continues drawing shallow breath… You are hovering on the border between your world and mine, and each time Despair would reach for you, you dance away, as if to tease.”

“I’m not trying to tease anyone!” he cried, panicked, “I just don’t want to die!”

“Your Will is stronger than the body that houses it.” The spirit drifted closer- the bright hollow where the boy assumed its face was supposed to be was so close now, he felt as if he could touch it and trace the curve of a cheek, if only he could lift his arm, or just curl his fingers. “I can make that body strong once more, if you’ll allow me.”

“How? What must I do? Spirit, Purpose, I don’t… I can’t die, I don’t want to die, I’ll do anything, just tell me what!”

But the apparition didn’t respond-- not with more than a soft chuckle, and a gentle warmth that washed over the boy, from the very tips of his toes to the top of his head, as if he was being submerged slowly into a warm bath.

And somewhere, beneath the rubble and dirt and grime, arm in arm with the cooling body of the fallen comrade in an embrace morbidly romantic, a dead boy sucked in a long, thirsty breath.

[aguedallorca]

Titulada en la Escuela Superior de Arte Dramático de Valencia en la modalidad de interpretación, completa su formación de la mano de profesionales como Andrés Lima, Pablo Messiez, Paco Zarzoso, Eva Zapico o Boris Rotestein. Inicia su carrera profesional junto al colectivo Barbàrie con el que estrena piezas de creación colectiva como Sin Barbas no hay paraíso, Río por no llorarme o El Club de los 27. 

Entre sus trabajos destacan obras como Animales nocturnos, de Juan Mayorga, dirigida por M. A. Sweeney, El nudo de Colectivo Isquion, Maldito Otoño y Federico, ambos de la compañía LaSubterránea y dirigidos por Paco Zarzoso. Junto a este último estrena la coproducción del IVC y el Teatre Nacional de Catalunya La Casa de les Aranyes. Con Albena Teatre estrena Presoners, dirigido por Carles Alberola, que consigue el Premio IVC Mejor Autoría.

Participa también en diversas lecturas dramatizadas como La Falta de Marieta, para la Fundación SGAE o Barahúnda, de Isabel Caballero para el Institut Valencià de Cultura.

Trabaja también para la Editorial Micomicona, con la que estrena obras de dentro del ámbito educativo como El Lazarillo de Tormes o Yerma, de García Lorca.

Desde hace más de cinco años, está vinculada como actriz y manipuladora a la compañía de títeres Bambalina Teatre Practicable, con la que estrena espectáculos como La Celestina (Premio IVC Mejor espectáculo y Mejor actriz) Edipo, La caja de Juguetes, o el Retablo de Maese Pedro, dirigidos por Jaume Policarpo. Además de actriz es autora de Cucu, el último espectáculo de la compañía, que consigue el Premio IVC Mejor Espectáculo para Niños y Niñas.

[ivangzama]

Arte y libros. @Arteymas_: "Y su joven corazón no puede ayudar; en sus venas la sangre se detiene y se congela y el ánimo perdido abraza la fe. Cae sintiendo el beso de la muerte. Amén." El beso de muerte es una escultura de mármol que se encuentra en el Cementerio de Poblenou, en Barcelona. La escultura ha sido atribuida a Jaume Barba, aunque otros la atribuyen a Joan Fontbernat. ▶️ #JuegosDeportivosALBA 🇻🇪😷Disfruta de esta fiesta deportiva 2023 en Caracas, La Guaira y Miranda ▶️ #IndependenciaONada 🇻🇪😷 ▶️ #LeerDescoloniza 🇻🇪🕊️😷💙📖📚

[xlntwtch2]

Kiss of Death Monument ...this one is found on sculpture-dz.com

"...bronze  Copper Figure Sculpture .... for sale on sculpture-dz.com

LIFE SIZE – INSTALL IS EASY. LARGE SIZE – OUR ENGINEER CAN COME TO YOUR COUNTRY TO INSTALL SCULPTURES"

they use the "lost wax" method to make these (which is essentially filling a mold made of wax by engraving it with the design, pouring your material in, then getting rid of the wax to have the statue...)

~~~

It looks based on The Kiss of Death monument in Spain, which is older by far and seen in Barcelona ...via wiki, under The Kiss of Death (sulpture) :

"... a marble sculpture located in Poblenou Cemetery in Barcelona. The sculpture is believed to have been crafted by Jaume Barba in 1930, as his signature is present on the side of the sculpture. However, some suggest that it might have been designed by Barba's son-in-law, Joan Fontbernat.[1] The sculpture serves as an example of memento mori, portraying death as a winged skeleton bestowing a kiss on the forehead of a young man...."

Kiss of Death Monument

[thewindowofthesummerhouse]

Jaume Barba

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

The Kiss of Death.

This work of art is a high relief version of the funerary sculpture "El petó de la mort" (The kiss of death) located in the Poblenou Cemetery in Barcelona (Spain).

This sculptural set is, in my opinion, the culmination of Gothic sculpture, understanding this word with its post-punk meaning, capturing like no other the beauty of tragedy, darkness and death.

The material is marble dust amalgamated with resin and molded, giving it excellent resistance and durability properties, consistency and a stony touch. It is a solid piece that weighs about 6,5 lb, ideal for mounting on a board, framing or hanging on the wall.

This sculpture accumulates legends about its authorship, about its gaze and about its reason for being. One of them is that it inspired the film The Seventh Seal, by Ingmar Bergman.

Available in ArteFeudo’s Etsy shop.