Emily - Galatea - Limited Edition of 8 Print

Yurii Yermolenko, "Emily - Galatea", 2019, archival pigment print, 105 x 188 cm. Of ancient Cypriot sculptors, one above all else excelled. The statues which Pygmalion carved, from ivory or stone, aroused the admiration of his peers when they beheld the true-to-life creations of his craftsmanship alone. Observing prostitution of the Propoetides, he grew, in early youth, the female gender to abhor and vowed he’d never marry if all women were like these but would create a perfect virgin maiden to adore. From a carefully selected block of purest ivory stone, employing all his craftsmanship and taking greatest care, he worked month after month to make a woman of his own in every detail, perfect from her toenails to her hair. At last she stood before him, finished to his satisfaction, as perfect and as beautiful as any maid could be. She never spoke or argued thereby causing no distraction until he fell in love with his creation, hopelessly. He named her Galatea after the sea-nymph of that name, and, lovingly, would gaze upon her form as white as milk, hang jewels about her neck and ornaments upon her frame arraying her like a princess in rich robes of finest silk. Daily, the ivory maiden looked down silently at him and, daily he would stand entranced and gaze into her eyes. His love for Galatea grew strong – it was no passing whim; he scarcely ever left his house or parted from his prize. At Aphrodite’s temple, humbly kneeling at her shrine, he made oblation to the goddess, offering this prayer: “O Thou, who has vouchsafed to me this gift of love divine, pray give me now a perfect, living bride like Galatea.” On high, in great Olympus, goddess Aphrodite heard Pygmalion’s plea and understood the force of his desire. Descending to the statue, she spake not a single word but, by a breath, infused the ivory maid with living fire. Pygmalion, returning home, was startled to observe that Galatea’s ivory skin no longer glistened white but glowed with rosy hue and, at his touch, her every nerve thrilled as her eyes were opened to the unaccustomed light. He felt the warmth of human flesh as he now grasped her hand and took her in his arms then, held in close embrace, he kissed her. While she, her new-found life and sense could scarcely understand as, stepping from her pedestal, he hastened to assist her. She gazed at him adoringly, her master and creator. Her gratitude and love for him consumed her living breast as she besought, imploringly, Pygmalion to mate her. and Aphrodite was, of course, an honoured wedding guest. Knowing that ’twas his skill, his love and prayer did life invest, fair Galatea soon proved herself a perfect wife and mother for, ‘ere a year was out they, with a handsome son, were blest and, in another year, a lovely daughter joined her brother. The moral of this story is that consummation bridal, with prayer and faith, may even come to him who loves an idol.