ALVIN NG

Ovid's Fasti

Lyra

When the seventh dawn arrives, He will plunge into the waves and Lyra will shine no more.

Celestial lore and mythical tales converge in the project, 'Ovid's Fasti', an ethereal journey where the beauty of the present merges with the otherworldly realm of ancient Rome. Inspired by Ovid's enigmatic poems in his book titled 'Fasti', penned in the ancient Black Sea city of Tomis upon his exile by Emperor Augustus, this visual odyssey transcends time, beckoning us to embark on a transformative exploration.

As I venture amidst scattered ruins, guided by the verses of Ovid, I become a conduit to a world of forgotten whispers. Each site, meticulously captured, holds the power to transport us through time's seamless dance. Through the alchemy of hand-manipulated photographs, I breathe life into his verses, revealing their profound essence and forging a harmonious fusion of ancient wisdom and contemporary vision.

With these carefully crafted images, we traverse a delicate path guided by the enduring power of Ovid's legacy into an ethereal realm where ancient Rome's mystique intertwines with our modern consciousness. Here, the veils of time are lifted, and the realms of the past and present converge in a mesmerizing symphony of wonder.


"Times and their causes, unearthed from ancient annals, stars sunk beneath earth and risen, I sing." - Ovid 

Floralia

When Rosy fingered Eos-The Dawn leave behind Assaraci’s Brother of Phrygia, and thrice light the immeasurable world with her heavenly radiance, a goddess enwreathed in a thousand varied flower approaches. The stage is now free and set for jesty plays. The rites of Flora extends to the Kalends of May, thereupon I shall return. Today, a grander task is upon my hands.

Seize the day Vesta, she was welcomed into the house of her kindreds; so as the just Fathers have proclaimed. Phoebus claims a part, Vesta the other, He holds the remainder. Be eternal, Laurels of Palantine. May the oak weaved house endure; one house holds 3 immortal gods.

Feralia Fastus

Honour to the tombs and appease your ancestors’ souls, bring little offerings to the raised pyres. The ghosts desire little, grateful for piety instead of wealthy; there are no greedy gods in the deep river Styx.

A tile covered by garlands, a sprinkle of corn and salt, and motherly Ceres softened in wine and violets. Lay them all untouched in an earthen pot by the middle of the street.

Gifts of riches are not forbidden, for this appease the ghosts: Bring one’s prayers and proverbs to the hearth.

Fastus

The Nones of March are recognised, for they believed that the sacred temple of Vedjovis was built in front of two groves.

When Romulus ringed a wall of stone around his, he proclaimed: ‘Whoever you may be to take refuge here, you will be protected.’

Oh! What delicate beginning great Rome come forth to be!

Juno Sospita and Augustus’ restoration of temples.

The beginnings of the month, neighbouring the great mother of Phrygia, Sospita was endowed with altars new. Wherever are the hallowed temples of the goddess be now? They have long sunk into the earth by time.

The rest were saved from similar doom by the attention of our prophetic leader, under whom the temples decayed no more; Mortal Man is not enough, he too obligates the gods. 

O pious builder and restorer of temples, May the gods grace you with mutual care.

May the celestials bestow you the time you gave them, and continue their watch over your house.

Pleiades

When the night fades at the coming of the first dawn that reddens the heavens, our feathered friends grumble, soaked by the dew. The vigilant traveler of the night rests his half burnt torch and the peasant farmer tend to his fields like clockwork.

The Pleiades will ease the shoulders of their sires. Believed to be seven, but only six now shine. 

Either because the six bedded with the divine; Steropè with Mars, Halcyonè and you, fair Celæno, with Neptune. Maia, Electra, and taÿetè with Jove -

The seventh, graceful Meropè, married mortal Sisyphus and hides away alone in shame.

Or Electra, who covered her eyes at the demise of Troy, unable to bear the sight of its ruins and wailing ghosts.

Equirria Nefastus Publicus

When the sphere are raised and sunk six times by the swift charioteer across the darkening red sky, one can observe the races of Equirria on the Campus turf, bounded by the waters of Tiber.

Yet if chance should the banks be clasped, dusty Caelian will receive panting steeds.

Chiron

A little before the fourth night, Chiron will bring forth his gallery of stars, that hybrid mix of a man and a tawny steed.

The south facing Mount Pelion of Haemoniae, its summit coloured green with pine, the rest with oak. The son of Philyra abodes there. There is an ancient cavern, as it was remembered, where the just old man dwell. He is believed to have detained in rhythmic lyrics, the hands that sends Hector to his death. Alcides pays homage with his labours partly ended, the last great tasks remains to be toiled. Here stood the two calamities of Troy, boy Aeacides and great Hercules.

The hero of Philyra warmly receives the young hero, and questions his coming, And Hercules responded. He eyed in admiration, the club and lion’s hide and says: “These arms are worthy of the man, and the man to them!” In fact, even boy Achilles couldn’t contain his hand from touching the bristle fleece.To inspect the foul shafts with lethal scaly heads was the old man’s doom, For an arrow fell and pierces his left foot. Groans Chiron as he draws the arrow forth, and groans Alcides, and of the boy of Haemonia too.

He gathers and blends the herbs from the Pagasean hills to soothe the wound But rapacious poison overcomes treatments, infecting deep within till the bone, cursing the body to its doom. The blood of the Hydra, mixes with the centaur’s blood, rendering all aid to naught.

Boy Achilles wept as he stood, as if he wept for dying Peleus. Ever so often he caressed the corrupted hands in gentleness, rewarding the teacher with fruits of his labour, He kisses him often and pleaded as he lay, ‘Live, dearest father, I beg of you, don’t leave me behind!’ When upon the arrival of the ninth day, you, just Chiron, surround yourself with twice seven stars.

Praestites Lares

May’s Kalends are dedicated to ‘Praestitibus’ (guardian) Lares and altars are erected with the gods’ little statues.

Consecrated by King Curius, but antiquity ruins all; the passage of time damages even stone.

Nevertheless the reason the name attached is this: they guard all under their unslumbering watch.

They stand for us, praesunt over the city’s bulwarks, ever praesentes to our aid.

Lyra

When the seventh dawn arrives, He will plunge into the waves and Lyra will shine no more.

Celestial lore and mythical tales converge in the project, 'Ovid's Fasti', an ethereal journey where the beauty of the present merges with the otherworldly realm of ancient Rome. Inspired by Ovid's enigmatic poems in his book titled 'Fasti', penned in the ancient Black Sea city of Tomis upon his exile by Emperor Augustus, this visual odyssey transcends time, beckoning us to embark on a transformative exploration.

As I venture amidst scattered ruins, guided by the verses of Ovid, I become a conduit to a world of forgotten whispers. Each site, meticulously captured, holds the power to transport us through time's seamless dance. Through the alchemy of hand-manipulated photographs, I breathe life into his verses, revealing their profound essence and forging a harmonious fusion of ancient wisdom and contemporary vision.

With these carefully crafted images, we traverse a delicate path guided by the enduring power of Ovid's legacy into an ethereal realm where ancient Rome's mystique intertwines with our modern consciousness. Here, the veils of time are lifted, and the realms of the past and present converge in a mesmerizing symphony of wonder.


"Times and their causes, unearthed from ancient annals, stars sunk beneath earth and risen, I sing." - Ovid 

Floralia

When Rosy fingered Eos-The Dawn leave behind Assaraci’s Brother of Phrygia, and thrice light the immeasurable world with her heavenly radiance, a goddess enwreathed in a thousand varied flower approaches. The stage is now free and set for jesty plays. The rites of Flora extends to the Kalends of May, thereupon I shall return. Today, a grander task is upon my hands.

Seize the day Vesta, she was welcomed into the house of her kindreds; so as the just Fathers have proclaimed. Phoebus claims a part, Vesta the other, He holds the remainder. Be eternal, Laurels of Palantine. May the oak weaved house endure; one house holds 3 immortal gods.

Feralia Fastus

Honour to the tombs and appease your ancestors’ souls, bring little offerings to the raised pyres. The ghosts desire little, grateful for piety instead of wealthy; there are no greedy gods in the deep river Styx.

A tile covered by garlands, a sprinkle of corn and salt, and motherly Ceres softened in wine and violets. Lay them all untouched in an earthen pot by the middle of the street.

Gifts of riches are not forbidden, for this appease the ghosts: Bring one’s prayers and proverbs to the hearth.

Fastus

The Nones of March are recognised, for they believed that the sacred temple of Vedjovis was built in front of two groves.

When Romulus ringed a wall of stone around his, he proclaimed: ‘Whoever you may be to take refuge here, you will be protected.’

Oh! What delicate beginning great Rome come forth to be!

Juno Sospita and Augustus’ restoration of temples.

The beginnings of the month, neighbouring the great mother of Phrygia, Sospita was endowed with altars new. Wherever are the hallowed temples of the goddess be now? They have long sunk into the earth by time.

The rest were saved from similar doom by the attention of our prophetic leader, under whom the temples decayed no more; Mortal Man is not enough, he too obligates the gods. 

O pious builder and restorer of temples, May the gods grace you with mutual care.

May the celestials bestow you the time you gave them, and continue their watch over your house.

Pleiades

When the night fades at the coming of the first dawn that reddens the heavens, our feathered friends grumble, soaked by the dew. The vigilant traveler of the night rests his half burnt torch and the peasant farmer tend to his fields like clockwork.

The Pleiades will ease the shoulders of their sires. Believed to be seven, but only six now shine. 

Either because the six bedded with the divine; Steropè with Mars, Halcyonè and you, fair Celæno, with Neptune. Maia, Electra, and taÿetè with Jove -

The seventh, graceful Meropè, married mortal Sisyphus and hides away alone in shame.

Or Electra, who covered her eyes at the demise of Troy, unable to bear the sight of its ruins and wailing ghosts.

Equirria Nefastus Publicus

When the sphere are raised and sunk six times by the swift charioteer across the darkening red sky, one can observe the races of Equirria on the Campus turf, bounded by the waters of Tiber.

Yet if chance should the banks be clasped, dusty Caelian will receive panting steeds.

Chiron

A little before the fourth night, Chiron will bring forth his gallery of stars, that hybrid mix of a man and a tawny steed.

The south facing Mount Pelion of Haemoniae, its summit coloured green with pine, the rest with oak. The son of Philyra abodes there. There is an ancient cavern, as it was remembered, where the just old man dwell. He is believed to have detained in rhythmic lyrics, the hands that sends Hector to his death. Alcides pays homage with his labours partly ended, the last great tasks remains to be toiled. Here stood the two calamities of Troy, boy Aeacides and great Hercules.

The hero of Philyra warmly receives the young hero, and questions his coming, And Hercules responded. He eyed in admiration, the club and lion’s hide and says: “These arms are worthy of the man, and the man to them!” In fact, even boy Achilles couldn’t contain his hand from touching the bristle fleece.To inspect the foul shafts with lethal scaly heads was the old man’s doom, For an arrow fell and pierces his left foot. Groans Chiron as he draws the arrow forth, and groans Alcides, and of the boy of Haemonia too.

He gathers and blends the herbs from the Pagasean hills to soothe the wound But rapacious poison overcomes treatments, infecting deep within till the bone, cursing the body to its doom. The blood of the Hydra, mixes with the centaur’s blood, rendering all aid to naught.

Boy Achilles wept as he stood, as if he wept for dying Peleus. Ever so often he caressed the corrupted hands in gentleness, rewarding the teacher with fruits of his labour, He kisses him often and pleaded as he lay, ‘Live, dearest father, I beg of you, don’t leave me behind!’ When upon the arrival of the ninth day, you, just Chiron, surround yourself with twice seven stars.

Praestites Lares

May’s Kalends are dedicated to ‘Praestitibus’ (guardian) Lares and altars are erected with the gods’ little statues.

Consecrated by King Curius, but antiquity ruins all; the passage of time damages even stone.

Nevertheless the reason the name attached is this: they guard all under their unslumbering watch.

They stand for us, praesunt over the city’s bulwarks, ever praesentes to our aid.

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