#legend of Medusa

[misspjsuperior]

Medusa, the OG stonergirl 👁️🪨 Almost all of us are familiar with her legendary petrifying gaze. It is mentioned in the earliest records of Medusa and her monstrous gorgon family. What is also mentioned in ancient texts by 500 BC is that unlike her immortal family, Medusa was mortal as well as remarkably beautiful. The origin story of how she got her defensive power comes much later from the Roman poet Ovid during the turn of the common era. Yep, dude lived through the turnover from BC to now times. Ovid wrote that Neptune found Medusa in a temple to Minerva, goddess of war and intellect, and forced himself upon her. When Minerva found out, Neptune blamed Medusa for coming on to him. Because Medusa was a gorgon and not a fellow god like her uncle Neptune, Minerva chooses to punish Medusa by giving her a gorgon figure like her sisters, with snakes for hair. 🐍 As a result of the betrayal, Medusa’s gaze turns men to stone. Relatable to sexual assault survivors, Medusa has become a symbol of righteous rage for many feminists. We can understand Ovid’s version as a critique on power when we look at history and realize that he was in resistance to political corruption in ancient Rome.

Obviously, and sadly, this critique’s relevance to society both predated Ovid’s time and has followed into modernity. Ovid’s myth shaping also demonstrates how storytelling and art can shape historical and mythological memory in society, how concepts of divinity and the personas projected upon these divine forces in the form of gods are forged from human imagination in order to make sense of not just the workings of nature but of relationships within civilization.

An an artist I have taken my own liberties with the Medusa myth in self portraiture. Playing with the “stoning” powers of Medusa’s gaze, I’ve drawn a “stoner” tattoo on her wrist as she burns one down. This is also in acknowledgment to the Ovidian origin story in which Medusa is explained as an assault survivor with a nod to how cannabis has been a clinically proven medicine for PTSD in association to such experiences and yet remains often vilified similarly to Medusa.

https://misspjsuperior.etsy.com/listing/1588503886

[geekynerfherder]

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.

The art of Nathan J Anderson.

[whoishotteranimepolls]

"Who's Hotter?" Pride Month Event: Canon & Coded Lesbian & Bi

[odditycircus-2002]

Medusa!Reader in the style of Mortal Kombat Legends series!

Can you see that I designed them so that they match their husband?

Also I went with this design choice cause I thought it’d be the easiest to emulate😁

[glazeliights]

kiyo love suite rewrite where he just really wants someone to sit still and listen to him infodump

[gooberto]

Long time, no niche random bullshit art post!

I doubt this is a take anyone cares about, but I'm just putting it out there: I think it's a real shame that we only ever saw the full-body original design for Kid Icarus's Medusa in the game manual and a few magazines, because I kind of love it? It's the exact same genre of early video game villain design as guys like Ganon, Bowser, and King Dedede, but a girl one, and something about that is really unique and fun.

Anyway, my brain went places while thinking about what to draw her doing and now I think something silly like this should have happened in Captain N, or maybe one of the German Club Nintendo comics.

[lucilassie]

MYTHS & MORTALS

[jennyandvastraflint]

A Snake's Eyes

A contemporary retelling on Medusa, a tale of neurodivergence and finding strength in myths.

Written by me.

The girl didn't look at other people. Not because she didn't want to, she did, but everyone would stare her in the eyes, try to crawl into her soul and force back awful memories.

There had been two adults who hurt her very badly. Both had been at what everyone called the Temple because it promised curing.

The first was the man in a blue suit with a horse pin who forced her to stare into his ice cold eyes for what he deemed an appropriate amount of time every other day. She had liked the horse pin, but when her gaze faltered (falter, as though looking down was wrong), she would be splashed with water. When she talked about her interests 'too much' and didn't follow the scripts, splash. Her mouth not in a constantly pleasant smile, splash. For everything that felt natural to the girl, splash.

The second was the Observer, the owner of the Temple. She was an infinitely tall woman with eyes that were as bad as the man's. 'Wisdom and Strategy', the sign on the door to her office said underneath her name.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," she would say while pointing at different parts of the girl, each stab with her bony finger tearing on the girl like a predator bird's claws. Behind the mask of worried frowns and concerned smiles, no one saw the cruelty in the woman's eyes, even though the girl saw it so clearly.

"We have simply tried everything, but she won't behave. Poor, poor girl,” she would say, shaking her head.

The girl didn't want to listen, and so she unfocused her eyes and let her mind slither away. She imagined slithering like a snake, the animal she had lots of books and posters about, out between the bars in front of the window. The air was chilly, and the girl breathed slowly, enjoying each cool blade of grass that touched her scales.

"... special school," the girl caught the last words of the Observer, and she snapped back into her body, spine straight.

"What?" she asked, and in her hurry, she forgot to look up, up, up to the Observer's grey eyes. Almost immediately, the little bracelet the Observer had forced on her wrist the first day buzzed, so strong the girl let out a cry. She corrected her gaze and asked again, in the tone the man had splashed into her, "Miss, could you repeat that, please?" The words were unnatural, and the girl's tongue couldn't wrap around the stilted speech easily.

"We have decided you will go to a special school, dear." She always called her 'dear', but the word was hollow and wrong. When she said it, she sang something else, a word the girl didn't want to hear.

"But I would like to go to other children school," the girl said, her tone balancing right on the edge of Too Much and Too Little. She stood, and restraining her hands' dance, she argued in the words the Temple had forced into her head why she should not go to a special school (she knew there would be more men in suits doing script exercises and splashing her, and more Observers picking away at her). In the end, the Observer had to yield, the girl’s arguments flawless, and the Observer was not happy about that. The girl was happy, but she could only show a fraction of it while her hands were itching to wiggle and move freely.

The lightning bracelet came off two months later. After having 'adjusted' to school and proved she was 'normal enough', the girl was free, after years of weekly visits to the Temple, to go to school and – at least very secretly when no one saw – be what the Temple had tried to splash and shock out of her.

Two months in, the class went to the school library, and the girl got to explore the shelves of books in a calm, dimly lit environment. The natural light was kinder to her eyes than the fluorescent lamps overhead in many classrooms. Every day, when she came home, the girl would retreat into her room – her caregivers called it her cave – and lie in the blanket fort she had permanently set up, reading with only a little light her favourite snake books (she had some on other reptiles as well, though) and listening to violins and cellos play on an old tape she had gotten from a flea market. Her head would follow the melodies, and the tightness that built up over the day unspooled.

Just as the teacher was calling them all back, the girl’s eyes fell on a book depicting a woman with snakes for hair on the cover. Her mouth fell open in awe as she beheld the woman’s beauty and the green on her head. ‘Medusa’, the title read. The girl grabbed it and returned to her group, and they left after checking out the books.

The first night she had taken the book home, the girl had read it three times, and she had fallen in love with Medusa and her snake hair.

The next day at school, a boy thought it incredibly funny to taunt the girl for how she looked at her classmates, studying them. “Hey, watch out, or she’ll turn you to stone with her intense glare.” Many people laughed, but the girl sort of liked the idea.

When the boy stared at her, too, the girl said, “That’s right, don’t you look me in the eye, or I’ll turn you to stone like Medusa!” There was power in it, and though some were still laughing, she could hear the uncertainty in the melody their laughs sang.

From that day onward, the girl called herself Medusa to anyone who asked. Interacting with her classmates got a little easier now that they weren’t staring into her eyes constantly, though some of the teachers (the very strict ones that reminded Medusa of the Observer and the man in the blue suit) told her to stop fooling around. Medusa didn’t care, and if they were particularly nasty, she imagined turning them to stone.

In Medusa’s fourth year, a new student joined their class, and seeing as the spot next to Medusa was empty – no one wanted to sit next to Snake Girl after all – the newcomer got to sit there.

“Hi,” they muttered during religious education, and Medusa tilted her head at them. “I’m Perseus,” they introduced themselves.

Medusa frowned, remembering the character from the story. “You have the same name as the stupid man who beheads Medusa. I’m Medusa,” she said, and too loud, as it seemed, because the teacher cleared his throat rather noisily and glowered in their direction.

After the lesson, Perseus stood and stretched their limbs. “You have a cool name. Did you choose it yourself, too?”

“Yes,” Medusa said, because she had. “I don’t like when people look me in the eyes, and I wish I could turn them into stone for it.”

Perseus laughed, and their laughter was like silver bells playing a gentle song. “Well, I’d better not look you in the eyes then! Wanna be friends? Promise I won’t behead you.”

“Sure,” Medusa said after a moment of hesitation, and just like that, she had made a friend for life.

Medusa and Perseus were inseparable, and Medusa noticed that Perseus didn’t quite fit in themselves. It wasn’t in the same sense as Medusa, but when they got changed for PE class, she noticed Perseus went to a different room to the boys and girls, but they joined in enthusiastically in the games, and much more competent than Medusa whose limbs just wouldn’t seem to listen to her.

“My older sister is like that, too,” Perseus said after PE one time, and they offered Medusa half of their granola bar.

“I don’t like those,” Medusa said, eying the raisins in the bar wearily. Perseus simply shrugged and ate both halves themselves.

“My sister’s autistic, and she has dyspraxia as well. If you want, I could introduce you later today. She’s home from university.”

Medusa knew only the first word Perseus had used, because that’s why she had been sent to the Temple. Perhaps the second one was true as well; it felt true.

Medusa followed Perseus home, and she stood a little lost in their small room until Perseus offered her a chair to sit. “I’ll go get my sister Euryale,” Perseus said, and when Medusa nodded, they rushed out.

Moments later, two people came back: Perseus with their shoulder-length blonde hair, and a taller girl with curls that were dyed green. Medusa shrieked in delight, and she couldn’t help her hands dancing along with the rest of her. “Your hair looks like snakes!”

Euryale grinned. “Well. Perseus, you weren’t lying about your new friend, she’s sweet.”

Perseus flustered, and they tugged their sister’s sleeve. “Gift?”

“Oh right.” Euryale pulled a small box wrapped in snake-scaled paper. “Perseus told me about the lights at school. They suck, don’t they. I hope this’ll help…”

Medusa unwrapped the box carefully, not wanting to rip one single scale, and she beheld the mirrored sunglasses inside the box.

“You’d have to tell the teachers, but they shouldn’t make too much of a fuss. They suit you.”

As soon as she had put them on, Medusa gasped. The world was so much quieter when some of the light was gone!

“Exactly my reaction,” Euryale said, fiddling with one of the hair-snakes. “People don’t like seeing their own reflection, it makes them too aware of how they’re staring at others. Those mirrored glasses will make at least a decent portion of them look away.”

Medusa wiggled her hands happily, finally feeling truly herself and comfortable to show it. “Thank you.”

Euryale reached out a hand for Medusa. “Got to stick together, haven’t we?”

~fin~

[tiffanysabrinatattoo]

Theory and Practice of Design (1894) Frank G. Jackson

[missagonyy]

Male Gorgon

I’ve tried multiple times to draw a male Gorgon, but I always add too many snakes, haha. Oh well, here’s the Gorgon anyways. His eyes are kinda creepy open, then again - you shouldn’t be looking a Gorgon in the eyes anyway 😅🐍

👁️👁️

[exsofa]

where to look

[geekynerfherder]

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.

The art of Quinton Hoover.

[goldberry-edition]

Me as a kid: When I grow up, I'll be a princess

Me all grown up:

[briefbestiary]

Deadly beings to look at. The mortal Gorgon, Medusa, was famously slain by the hero Perseus shortly after he swindled the location of their home from their nearby sisters, the Graeae. There, from the blood of spewing from her neck, her sons Pegasus and Chrysaor were born. Far later, the Roman poet Ovid painted Medusa and her sisters in a completely different light. Rather than being born monsters, in Ovid's telling Medusa and her sisters were cursed by Athena due to Medusa being violated by Poseidon in Athena's temple.

[best-female-villain-tournament]

Round 2b

[mythologydropout]