Pensando en la inmortalidad del cangrejo

 

SJ Fuerst: Crab (2025) [1]

Oil paint on stuffed PVC toy, mounted on oil painted board

 

And a crab one afternoon in a pool, / An old crab with barnacles on his back, 

Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. - T. S. Eliot [2]

 

 

I. 

 

I know that, as a rule, crabs are not as fascinating to artists as lobsters [3]; as evidenced, for example, by Salvador Dalí's surrealist telephone (1936) and Jeff Koons's stainless steel sculpture (2007-12). 

 

But when, as a child, I went to the seaside for the day, I enjoyed searching for the former on the beach and will always remember coming across a large crab living (or perhaps temporarily sheltering) inside an old paint can, with his thick shell, ten legs, and large pincer claws that he waved in warning when I tried to get hold of him. It was an encounter 200 million years in the making and it made a real impression on my young mind.   

 

And so, I have a fondness for crabs - even whilst conceding that lobsters have a philosophically richer (and more perverse) symbolic history. I was pleased, therefore, to see that SJ Fuerst has got a new work currently on display entitled 'Crab' (see image above) ... 

 

 

II. 

 

Executed in her usual fine style with contemporary materials, Fuerst's work has been inspired in part by the decapods frequently depicted in Roman frescos and mosaics; one thinks, for example, of Cupid, the winged god of love, riding on the back of a harnessed crab [4].

 

Whether Fuerst also had in mind Van Gogh's oil painting of two crabs, thought to have been made soon after his release from hospital in Arles in January 1889, I don't know [5]. 

 

However, judging by the title of the exhibition - The Rabbit Hole Collective #1 - I'm guessing she had a more literary point of reference; namely, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  (1865); readers may recall the old and young crabs that gather on the shore of the pool of tears [6].   

 

 

III.

 

Whatever crab one chooses to reflect upon - be it real, fictional, or a plastic inflatable - the Spanish approve. They even have a popular expression to explain to foreigners that a siesta is not merely an opportunity to idle the early afternoon away after lunch, but, rather, allows time to contemplate important philosophical questions and think about the immortality of the crab ...

 

This sounds humorous, but our poets recognise the importance of such metaphysical daydreaming: José Emilio Pacheco, for example - regarded as one of the major Mexican poets of the second half of the 20th century - understood that the beauty of the crab lay in its ability to eternally return as ruler of the beach, despite the fact that crabs make up over twenty per cent of all marine crustaceans caught, farmed, and consumed worldwide by human beings, amounting to 1.5 million tonnes annually.

 

In the opening stanza of a short verse, Pacheco writes:

 

Y de inmortalidades sólo creo 

en la tuya, cangrejo amigo.  

      Te aplastan, 

te echan en agua hirviendo,  

      inundan tu casa. 

Pero la represión y la tortura 

de nada sirven, de nada. 

 

The English translation in Selected Poems (1987) is given as:

 

Of all the immortalities, I believe in

only yours, friend crab.

      People break into your body, 

plop you into boiling water, 

      flush you out of house and home. 

But torture and affliction 

Make no apparent end of you. [7]

 

Which is really just as well, for as the Spanish writer and philosopher Miguel Unamuno once said: If the crab should ever die in its entirety [i.e., become extinct], then we too will die for all eternity ... [8] 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This is one of three works by SJ Fuerst currently being exhibited at il-Kamra ta‘ Fuq (Mqabba, Malta) as part of a show entitled The Rabbit Hole Collective #1, curated by Melanie Erixon. The exhibition runs from 25 April until 11 May, 2025. 

      For more details please click here, or visit artsweven.com. See also my post of 13 April 2025 on artistic and philosophical rabbit holes: click here.

 

[2] T. S. Eliot "Rhapsody on a Windy Night", in Collected Poems: 1909-1962 (Faber & Faber, 2002). To read online via the Poetry Foundation, click here.

 

[3] See the post entitled 'Lobster Variations (I - IV) (7 Feb 2021): click here. 

[4] This work, from Pompeii, is now housed in the National Archaeological Museum of Naples: click here. 

      Whether this playful image is intended to suggest love's triumph over power is debatable, but I rather suspect it is. That's irritating enough, but even more annoying is how the Ancient Greek god of primordial desire, Eros [ἔρως], is infantalised and reduced to being no more than a chubby little cherub; whilst the mighty figure of Carcinus [Καρκίνος] - the giant crab who inhabited the lagoon of Lerna and battled with Heracles at Hera's command - is tamed and turned into a pet on a leash. 

 

[5] Van Gogh was probably inspired by a woodcut by the Japanese artist Hokusai which featured in the May 1888 issue of Le Japon Artistique, sent to Vincent by his brother Theo in September of that year. Van Gogh's canvas, simply titled Two Crabs, can be found in the National Gallery (on loan from a private collector): click here for further details.

 

[6] See chapter 2 of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (1865). 

      Alice also encounters crabs in chapter 5 of Through the Looking-Glass (1871) and seems to be fond of them: 'I should so like to see a little crab to take home with me!' That's exactly how I felt as a seven year old on the beach at Southend.

 

[7] See José Emilio Pacheco, 'The immortality of the crab', in Selected Poems, ed. George McWhirter, various translators, (New Directions Publishing, 1987), p. 163. 

      Usefully, this is a bilingual edition, so one can check and modify (if need be) the English translation of the Spanish text (although I made no such modifications here, I have to admit I was very tempted to do so).     

 

[8] See Miguel de Unamuno, Inmortalidad del cangrejo [The immortality of the crab]. This poem - along with Pacheco's verse - can conveniently be found on the Wikipedia page devoted to the idea of thinking about the immortality of the crab: click here.   

On American XL Bully Dogs and Ancient Greek Hounds

An American XL bully and the Ancient Greek hell-hound Cerberus 

as imagined by William Blake (c.1824-27)

 

 

 I. 

 

There are a lot of stories in the news at the moment about American XL bullies and, apparently, the breed will be banned in the UK as of the end of this year under the Dangerous Dogs Act (1991). 

 

Clearly, that's a good thing, although, in my opinion, it doesn't go far enough and there should be no certificates of exemption issued to owners no matter how fit and proper they are deemed to be. 

 

You can't have ultra-aggressive mutts with stocky, muscular bodies and powerful jaws running rampage on the streets and in the parks, causing serious injury to people and other canines. Six of the ten fatal dogs attacks in the UK last year were due to these illegally bred beasts.       

 

However, if you think the XL bully living next door is a nightmare and genuine threat to the safety of your children, then probably best you don't read the next section of this post in which we discuss a three-headed hound of Hades ...

 

 

II. 

 

According to ancient Greek mythology, guarding the gates of the Underworld is a monstrous, raw flesh-devouring dog named Cerberus, whom you really don't want to mess with (i.e., if you're dead, it's probably best to accept the fact and not attempt to leave). 

 

Cerberus was the polycephalic offspring of Typhon and Echidna and described as having a serpent for a tail and snake-heads protruding from multiple parts of his body, ensuring that his bite was infinitely worse than his bark. 

 

Thanks to his superhuman strength - and a wooden club - Heracles was just about the only one who could handle him, but, even then, I wouldn't have granted a dog license to this demi-god, nor allowed him to arrogantly parade Cerberus on a chain leash through the streets of Greece.       

 

A ravenous animal like Cerberus belongs in Hades ensuring the dead don't come back to extract their revenge upon the living. Alternatively, let him guard over the gluttons who inhabit the Third Circle of Hell [1], giving them a few hard bites in order to encourage them to repent of their sins and eat less. 

 

 

III.      

Finally, just to end on a slightly happier, more dog-friendly note, let me remind readers of another mythological mutt from ancient Greece; one much-loved by Odysseus and called by the name Argos ... 

 

According to Homer [2], after fighting in the Trojan War and battling monsters for twenty-odd years, Odysseus finally made it home to Ithaca. But as he approached his palace, he noticed an old dog lying on heaps of mule and cattle dung piled up outside the front gates. The poor creature was in a terribly neglected state, infested with fleas and other parasites. 

 

Nevertheless, when Argos heard a familiar human voice, he raised his tired head and pricked up his ears. As soon as he was sure it was his master, he wagged his tail in excitement, but lacked the strength to get to his feet and greet Odysseus properly.  

 

Seeing this - and touched by the fact that his dog clearly still remembered him after such a long time - Odysseus wiped away a tear, although, in his heart, he was angry that Argos had not been properly cared for in his absence and had fallen on hard times.

 

Tragically, having witnessed his master's homecoming, the loyal dog passed into the darkness of death - but what a good boy he was!

 

 

Argos and his master Odysseus [3]

Print by Frederick Stacpoole after Briton Rivière (1885)

Notes

 

[1] The third circle of hell, as depicted in Dante's Inferno, is reserved for the punishent of those who have committed the sin of gluttony; a realm of freezing mud which, just to make matters worse, is also inhabited by the three-headed hound Cerberus, who torments the excessively greedy by tearing at their flesh.

 

[2] See Homer's Odyssey, Book 17, lines 290-327. My paraphrased account is based on various English translations and MLG's recollection of the tale, particularly with reference to Argos.

       

[3] Print by Frederick Stacpoole, after Briton Rivière (1885); held in the collection of the British Museum under the title Ulysses and Argus. Click here for more information.

 

 

For a follow-up post to this one on a related theme, please click here.