Below are images of two works of art. ?Vanity,? on the left, was painted in 1648 by Jansz van Treck. The second, titled ?For the Love of God,? was created in 2007 by contemporary British artist Damian Hirst. Van Treck?s painting depicts a skull wreathed in straw, an hourglass, an extinguished pipe and tapers, musical instruments (a flute, a viol and bow), a black lacquer box and a Rhenish stoneware jug (both collectors' items), a book of music and a drawing, a theater ?playbook,? a shell and a straw used for blowing bubbles, and a helmet. Hirst?s sculpture consists of a platinum-covered human skull (complete with real human teeth) set with over 3,000 diamonds. Hirst recently claimed to have sold his skull for $100 million. Both works of are examples of the ?vanitas? art work, which contains objects intended to cause the viewer to reflect on the inevitability of mortality and the consequent foolishness of all human ambition. Central to both artworks is a human skull, itself a powerful art symbol with a rich history of its own.

Study both paintings. Think about the symbolic value(s) of the human skull in these works, other works of art, literature, and culture. Then, write a well-constructed essay in which you clarify how effective both are in employing the human skull to symbolize the ?vanitas? theme.


"Vanity" by van Treck


"For the Love of God" by Hirst

This was actually one of the most fun essays I've ever written. It can easily be done in 1000 or less words (mine was 1112 words, but I elaborated a lot). Overall a good thing to write about.

Was that an http://libelldra.com/index.php?showtopic=2766&hl=

Edit: Huh, I didn't actually read the last line...

Alright, I'm done. I'm gonna print this off with any changes you guys suggest tommorow morning before I leave for school, but for now, I need some sleep. Hopefully the theme I mentioned above was clear. I know it's cliched and I don't expect to win, but it's better than not submitting anything. So, here's my submission:

A small grubby hand, marked with flecks of paint that had dried over wrinkled skin, burrowed unguided into a paper parcel. A moment later, it withdrew as a fist with an awkward assortment of chips jutting from between its fingers. With practiced motions, the chips were pulled from the clutches of the hand by a mouth, with lips licked salt-less soon after. And then the miracle of a small boy eating hot chips from his local store repeated.
Tommy?s feet, sealed loosely in gumboots as every nine year-olds feet should be, swung rhythmically over the dock?s edge, over lethargic waves crashing around rotted logs. He was wrapped tightly in a thick jacket and woolen hat, like every nine year old sitting watching the sea should be.
Above him, a flock of seagulls that were more hungry than dignified made themselves known to the world below with obnoxious squawks and poorly aimed bombings; as if pleased that they would always have the sky to themselves.
Further along the decrepit, wooden structure, a fishing boat neared, a trail of thrashing water following in its wake. The craft?s motor dropped its roar to a low murmur. The boat sidled gently up against the dock and a heavy set figure emerged from the steering cabin and walked the length of the boat to a tidily wound pile of rope. The figure, almost completely encased in a bright yellow jacket, despite the patches of blue widening between the stark white clouds; stepped onto the dock following a length of rope he?d thrown ahead.
As the sailor expertly anchored his small trawler to the dock, Tommy cast a handful of chips into the water before him, fascinated by the effect on the seagulls above him. He watched the birds, a frenzy of white wings and viciously ravenous pecks, and began to hum a tune that featured no rhythm, no beat and no resemblance to anything the boy had ever heard.
From behind him, a gruff voice stunned the boy back to the cold, salty seaside, ?Don?t feed the seagulls.? warned the man through a bristly white beard and steely grey eyes.
Naturally curious, Tommy replied as to why not.
?Because if you sit here feedin? those blasted vermin every day of the week, and then disappear on holiday to blimmin? Scotland or somethin?, who?s gonna feed ?em? They start dependin? on ya and then when yer? gone, they starve and disappear out to sea to cark it.? With that, the man continued on his way, a heavy-looking fishing kit in hand.
Tommy turned back to the sea to find it hadn?t changed during his brief and disturbing conversation. The birds were circling above his head, eyeing the greasy remnants of their meal. Tommy, struggling to avoid thinking about seagulls flying out to sea to ?Cark it? just because of him, decided he would never feed another animal again, the details of the sailor?s message perhaps missing him a bit. He stood, contorting the paper into a ball and thinking hard about the conversation.
Like all nine year olds, Tommy was easily shaken by facts of life and character that didn?t make sense to him. The sailor?s blunt message and uncaring attitude worried the boy and would not budge from the front of his mind, even as he engaged himself in the familiar exercise of studying the distant horizon and bulges moving beneath the water?s surface.
The boy turned on the spot, first to the far end of the dock: to steps the sailor was ascending, then to the man?s boat which rocked in place. Suddenly ominous, it tied a knot in the boy?s stomach. As he began to turn to leave, something in the water below caught his eye. He turned back to the dock?s edge, peering down at the murky water, moving his head from side to side to catch that reflection of sunlight again.
Tommy edged forward precariously, dropping the ball of paper to the ground as a handful of chips spilled from it. In a flash, the seagulls were at Tommy?s feet, squawking and bickering and thrashing this way and that. The boy turned to see the ruckus that had broken out behind him.
Tommy lost his footing. With a sudden, harsh realisation, he tumbled backwards towards the waiting water. A horrible feeling enveloped the boy for a brief moment before he hit. His back crashed into the bitter sea, his eyes still staring up at the sky. Water filled his mouth and blocked his thoughts. His arms waved uselessly at his sides as the horrible salty liquid filled his lungs and blurred his vision. His gumboots filled with water and dragged him further into the depths.
The boy vaguely made out rusted rungs running the length of the post he?d fallen in front of. He thrust his arms gracelessly in their direction, his brain fast losing the ability to piece together rational thought, fear gripping his body and numbing his joints. A single stroke of luck: a gumboot slipping from its foot and descending into the salad green depths. The boy caught a hold of one of the crude, L-shaped rungs with two fingers, then three, then a hand. Far above, the light of the surface was fading, the boy?s vision succumbing to darkness around the edges.
With weakened limbs and flailing motions, the boy began to climb the rungs. The light of the surface shone brighter, but that was no consolation for the boy?s lack of Oxygen. Blindly, he grabbed at the next rung, the last in his challenge. But all the boy grabbed at was more of the water squeezing his head agonisingly. With a sickening realisation, Tommy discovered the final rung was missing. He clawed at the post wildly, his body beginning to thrash and convulse, the wavering image in his red eyes finally disappearing, replaced by blackness, and then silence.

Tommy was on some level aware of the strong hand grabbing at a handful of jacket and wrenching him from the water, despite being unconscious and as near to drowning as was possible. Arms looped beneath his shoulders and dragged him up onto the dock, the warm, safe dock. The wind cut into him, forcing his tormented mind back into consciousness. The boy threw up a mouthful of water, his eyes widening and his lungs swelling gratefully with air. The boy?s shaky vision found the bearded face of his rescuer: the mouth set in a tight lipped grimace as usual, but the grey pupils now catching a different light in Tommy?s eyes.
Below the dock, the waves continued to rise and fall gently, unaware of the lesson they?d taught a young boy. A solitary gumboot rose to the surface of the water, caught tumbling and twisting in the surface, destined to be a permanent resident of the seaside, as every seaside should have.

(1,145 words, but that'll be alright.)

wow that was really very good

*begins a slow clap that gradually grows to a thunderous applause*

*Joins applause*

That really was awesome.