Iliade: "Achille ed Ettore" sanguigna su carta/// Iliad: "Achilles and Ettore" red chalk on paper (hematite) [Ita/Eng]

Egli, è alla ricerca di Ettore, che non accetta il combattimento, anzi, dapprima fugge e compie tre volte il giro di Troia, ma poi si decide, sa di dover morire, per l'amore della propria famiglia e per la sua amata città.

Enea tenta di ostacolare Achille, ma viene aiutato da Poseidone a fuggire, volando via, su una nuvola.
Contro la furia degli elementi nulla può fare l'uomo, prova a combattere, a sua volta eroe, per il bene dei propri cari, della propria casa, fin quando la forza inarrestabile della natura prenderà il sopravvento, un attimo e tutto cade.
Il rosso del sangue sporca e brucia, il corpo necessita di un nuovo vestito, pulito.

Lasciamo che il pianeta, offeso, nell'intimo, generi morti, e si riprenda con rabbia quello che gli abbiamo tolto, forse per sempre.
Troia è soltanto il simulacro della caducità dell'uomo.

English
Teti, the mother of Achilles, the strongest and most courageous of the Achaean warriors, offers the arms to the son, polished and sharpened.
With those weapons, the Achaean hero has only one goal: to fight and exterminate the Trojans, to avenge Patroclus and inflict on Ettore a death between a thousand sufferings and above all a dishonorable end.
The hatred of Achilles is unstoppable, like the fury of nature, without limits, a tidal wave or an eternal storm.
Hatred and anger red the earth, drying up the mountains and scarifying the trees.
Red as the cruel gushing out of Trojan warriors that the pelide kills, in tens, the scarlet of their blood changes the color of the waters of the Xanto river, overflowing with Trojan corpses
Then the river asks the headache to stop his murderous rage, there is no longer any reason to throw the corpses of the enemies in his bed, he has no more water to take to the sea, so high is the pile of bodies killed.
Around it all becomes red, painted by the resentment of the brave warrior, son of Peleus, the landscape is deformed by hatred, trembles, as shaken from within, from the bowels of the earth. The lines of the land are twisted and open, tearing apart, devastated by the fury of the Achaean warrior.

He is looking for Ettore, who does not accept the fight, in fact, first flees and completes the Trojan tour three times, but then he decides, he knows he must die, for the love of his family and his beloved city .

Aeneas tries to impede Achilles, but he is helped by Poseidon to flee, flying away, on a cloud.
Against the fury of the elements nothing can make man, try to fight, in turn hero, for the good of their loved ones, of their own home, until the unstoppable force of nature will take the upper hand, a moment and everything falls.
The red of the blood is dirty and burning, the body needs a new dress, clean.

Let the planet, offended, in the intimate, generate dead, and angrily recover what we have taken away, perhaps forever.
Troy is only the simulacrum of the transience of man.

Condivido i passaggi del disegno.

I share the steps of the drawing.

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