Timothy Hull Pastiche Cicero (Installation Image) Fitzroy Gallery, NYC
2:49 pm • 9 March 2014 • 7 notes
Timothy Hull Pastiche Cicero Oil on Canvas 62x62”
9:19 am • 6 March 2014 • 7 notes
Saturday March 8th: Timothy Hull PASTICHE CICERO Fitzroy Gallery NYC
7:44 am • 1 March 2014 • 5 notes
Timothy Hull Roman Writing on the Wall One Gel Pen on Paper 18x24” 2014
12:38 pm • 13 February 2014 • 37 notes
four paintings (oil on canvas) from the gemini series from timothy hull discovering the disenchanted byzantines at fitzroy gallery, 2013
4:51 pm • 11 December 2013 • 4 notes
Hello Tim, at the very least, the transliteration into Latin letters is:
If I may make some extrapolations….
Dytherous could be related to *Dethero-, an Indo-European root meaning “to hedge one’s bets” which survives in the modern English word “dithering” and perhaps also reflected in the ancient Gaulish “Drutheron,” a name for a 1st century BCE Arvenian chieftain who was well-known for his delaying tactics during the Gallic Wars with Caesar. The -us suffix of course, gives the verb a reflexive meaning, perhaps “to dither oneself,” or it may, again like the Gaulish example, signify a name. Unfortunately, I cannot recall a “Dytherous” in the annals of Greek or Coptic history, but interestingly enough, there is a Detherous, who lived in Heliopolis in the 2nd century BCE, as evidenced by a series of surviving papyrus account rolls now kept in the British Library. He was apparently a dentist.
The next element in the inscription, a lone delta, seems to be the first letter of a now-missing word. That means this could be anything. My assumption is “dramatourgos,” meaning “dramatist.” However, if Dytherous/Detherous is not a name, then the subsequent D may simply be emphatic, drawing us to some inside joke (now lost to us) of the spelling or pronunciation of the first word. Could this simply be a foul joke on some poor Ythero (itself a common name of the Boethian highlands in the 2nd century BCE), who with the cruel addition of a mere delta and enclitic -us to his name, goes from “Proud Shepherd” (cf. Yedderri in Late Tocharian, around the same time) to a name meaning “one who dithers himself.” Tragic in all ways imaginable. And sadly, we will never know.
'Kai' simply enough means 'and' in Greek, both ancient and modern.
The next word, “mini” is a little more difficult, but please bear with me. Of course, the natural inclination (at least for modern speakers of Indo-European languages) would be to read something along the lines of “small” for this, but this is of course confusing our Latin and Greek! In Latin, the min- stem (reflected in words like “minus,” “minimum” and “minute”) means “small” or “diminutive,” but the equivalent in Greek is mikr- (as in “microscope”, “microphone” and “micron”. So we can dismiss this as a false assumption out of hand. This may, however be a form of the word “minon" meaning "months" or a corrupted plural form of "mina,” meaning a “talent of silver.” But it just as easily could be a genitive form of the name Minos, who of course was most famous for constructing the mythical labyrinth on the island of Crete. However, this last possibility is no more than a flight of the most ridiculous fancy, since the genitive form would never immediately follow the conjunction ‘kai’.
Finally, the “outh” seems to be fairly straightforward. The similarities with the proto-Celtic Uth- (also reflected in the Germanic languages and perhaps even the Iberian tongues) are unmistakeable. The obvious connection seems to be with the Welsh “Ythr" which means "terrible." This eventually makes its way into the name Yther, or “Uther,” the legendary father of King Arthur.
However, the emphatic theta on the last line poses problems of its own. Is this a clever parallel to the “Dytherous D” of the first line? It probably should be mentioned that the Aeolians maintained an archaic poetic tradition of taking the first and last letters of significant words and names, in alternating sequence, and using them in the subsequent word in a line of verse. For example, the famous Aeolian poet Aschyllychus (Askilikos to the Mysians) once mused: Moletikos murodin / Spoletiki isnire / Torenemos tundonin / Ieretiko ondire (The walls of Moletikos / [upon which] I once gazed / remain foremost in my mind / until the end of my days). As you can see, each line consisting of two words alternates between repeating the initial letter and the final letter of the first word in the second.
So, my feeling is that this is a fragmentary poem, in a modified Aeolian tradition (in that only the first and third lines reflect the Aschyllychan alternating alliteration). This may give us the following possible original form:
*this final line is a typical ending for many colonial Greek upper-class funerary epitaphs, with “delicate” in the sense of “so incredibly wealthy that his muscles have atrophied from never having to move”.
If I may attempt a loose translation:
Detherous the dramatist,
And his mina of silver,
The terrible worker of miracles,
He is very delicate.
10:01 am • 21 November 2013 • 2 notes
Tim- Here is my transcription, keeping in mind that C’s can be G’s and T’s can be I’s and vice versa:
(C/G)A MESS Q TRA
DECIO P F. INV
AV(C/G) PM TR P II
PP ET MESSIS
DEC(T/I)O ET QUIN
MIS CAESS AU(CC/GG)
The bad news is that Ca Mess Q Tra Decio makes no sense to me or the internet, but switching that C for a G makes this into Gaius Messius Quintus Traianus Decius, which is the name of a Roman Emperor. It has to be a Roman Emperor, because of the Imp Caes to start the inscription, so that narrows down our search quite a bit. This isn’t some no-name governor of Gallia Narbonensis or what have you. So I think this is a fairly accurate judgment. Some of the other elements are typical just of the names of Roman emperors: INV=invictus (unconquered, which means this is probably pre-Christian), PM= pontifex maximus (supreme priest), TR P II= two times as Tribune of the plebs, PP=Pater Patriae (father of the fatherland) and the bit at the end is the mileage marker (MP= ‘miles passed’ essentially) but the number is very odd…I don’t know what to make of the XCIIX…what does that mean? maybe there is an extra X at the end. So the number XCII would be 92. Taking off the first X, leaving CIIX makes no sense. I suppose the numbers could be reversed (which means it should say CXII or 112), which was not unusual in later Roman inscriptions, but I really don’t know enough about them to be completely certain. -Jeff
9:17 am • 12 November 2013 • 5 notes
Timothy Hull Late September Home Studio View (New Drawing of Ancient Graffiti) Gel Pen on 6 panels of paper, 2013
Two graffiti, one on top of the other.
Hic ad Callin[i]cum
futui orem anum (palma)
amicom [—-] re nolite r
in aedi ( or: [c]inaede) [—-]
"Here I had oral and anal intercourse with my friend in the inn of Callinicus (or: with my sea-going friend Callinicus?). Do not …". This graffito was written first. Callinicus was probably the owner (vilicus) of the building.
Livius me cunus
lincet Tertulle cunnu ov[—-]
Efesius Terpsilla amat.
"Livius licks my cock (or: Livius, that faggot, licks me?). Tertullus … c**t (or: faggot?) … Efesius loves Terpsilla (or: Terisius?)". This is the second graffito.
9:09 am • 27 September 2013 • 2 notes
Timothy Hull Le Mystère de L’affaire Ensemble de Verre, Gel Pen on Paper, 2013
10:49 am • 9 September 2013 • 10 notes