View allAll Photos Tagged replication
We're here is studying and exploring reflectionism and related
palindromic phenomena.
My idea was to show palindromes in genetics. Unfortunately my electron microscope is in the repair shop, so I had to use some ordinary kitchen forks to illustrate the concept.
Learn more about palindromes as substrates for multiple pathways of recombination in Escherichia coli.
Long DNA palindromes are sites of genome instability (deletions, amplification, and translocations) in both prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells. In Escherichia coli, genetic evidence has suggested that they are sites of DNA cleavage by the SbcCD complex that can be repaired by homologous recombination. Here we obtain in vivo physical evidence of an SbcCD-induced DNA double-strand break (DSB) at a palindromic sequence in the E. coli chromosome and show that both ends of the break stimulate recombination. Cleavage is dependent on DNA replication, but the observation of two ends at the break argues that cleavage does not occur at the replication fork. Genetic analysis shows repair of the break requires the RecBCD recombination pathway and PriA, suggesting a mechanism of bacterial DNA DSB repair involving the establishment of replication forks.
(Science Direct; SbcCD Causes a Double-Strand Break at a DNA Palindrome in the Escherichia coli Chromosome; John K.Eykelenboom, John K.Blackwood, EwaOkely, David R.F.Leach)
In replicating this fifth-gen stealth fighter, I was aiming for:
– Smooth: nearly studless in form.
– Integrated: packing in a host of features.
– Fresh: incorporating new pieces and techniques.
and of course, purist! (at least, for now; I may experiment with designing some Marine Corps liveries on waterslide decals for mere aesthetic decoration that denotes the squadron affiliation…)
The 1:40 scale replica includes:
– Opening cockpit that holds pilot, control panel, and joystick
– Hidden weapon bays in fuselage for stealth missions
– Optional exterior loadout for air-to-ground attacks
– Retracting landing gear that supports the model
– Opening flaps, rotating fan blades, and tilting vector nozzle for VTOL
– Stable Technic display stand and brick-built name plaque.
This is the first MOC I’ve finished in about five years (during which I completed my university degree, got my full-time career job, moved out, got married, and a few other things), after working on it off-and-on for at least three years. [The real-life aircraft has suffered from its own extensive delays in design / production, so I guess it could be worse where my LEGO one is concerned. XD]
A big thank-you to everyone who has inspired me along the way, including special acknowledgements to AFOL friends like the Chiles family and Eli Willsea for helping rekindle my joy in the hobby; Brickmania, for showing me a few new hinge techniques that I incorporated during these last few months of the design process; and especially my lovely wife Natalie who, bless her heart, has allowed the dining room of our tiny apartment to serve as my building studio and encouraged me to use it more often as such!
Let me know what you guys think!
© All rights reserved. This image is copyrighted to Tim Wood; Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me at woodrot147@aol.com for express permission to use any of my photographs.
All of my images can be purchased...... Visit my website, coastal and countryside images at......
Facebook...
www.facebook.com/TimWoodPhotoGallery
Twitter......
My most popular photos on Flickr...
www.flickriver.com/photos/imagesofwales/popular-interesting/
Think I've done this shot before with a number of Scania Omnicitys but by 2023, they were largely gone. Daf SB200/Wright Pulsars like Arriva 1478 NK61CYP were much more common in Richmond market place.
© All rights reserved. This image is copyrighted to Tim Wood; Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me at woodrot147@aol.com for express permission to use any of my photographs.
All of my images can be purchased...... Visit my website, coastal and countryside images at......
Facebook...
www.facebook.com/TimWoodPhotoGallery
Twitter......
My most popular photos on Flickr...
www.flickriver.com/photos/imagesofwales/popular-interesting/
Skylark Diner located at 248 Vestal Pkwy E in Vestal,NY. The restaurant which opened early in 1956 is still operating as of July 2023. Note throughout the 1960's and 1970's the roof of the restaurant was painted orange which was more than likely an intentional move to replicate a Howard Johnson's restaurant. Note there were two HJ restaurants in Binghamton, both of which closed by the early 1990's. Note the roof of the Skylark diner was repainted from orange to blue in the 1980s, and by the late 1990s was painted red.
This image is the copyright of © Neil Holman. Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me for permission to use any of my photographs.
The Flower Dome is the larger of the two domes (at gardens by the bay), at 1.2 hectares (3.0 acres). It replicates a mild, dry climate and features plants found in the Mediterranean and other semi-arid tropical regions. (wiki)
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
“Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com”
“www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment”
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
“Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com”
“www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment”
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
Ink and acrylic marker on paper 6.75" x 9.75" 7.2025. www.saatchiart.com/art/Drawing-Self-replicating-Surface-P...
The geek version of "The best thing I make is reservations."
That's a Sciences badge from TOS!
Hand-dyed potholder, make during one of my crazy crafty binges.
www.facebook.com/neilholmanphotograghy/?ref=aymt_homepage...
This image is the copyright of © Neil Holman. Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me for permission to use any of my photographs
There were many occasions when a driver might need a ticket roll or a ticket machine exchange or some kind of light maintenace issue, and I recall a spare driver woudl be dispatched with an RH and would often come down from Nugent Indiustrial Estate (OB) to assist the R3 at the stand. Here is my Dad standing in a recreation pose of that memory. RH1 "Kestrel" C501DYM and OV2 ""Hurricane" C526DYT are at Station Square, Petts Wood.
Photo (c) TomG.2016.
I had been planning to shoot this morning's sunrise at the Owens River right outside Bishop, but I ended up waking up at 3:30 AM and was unable to get back to sleep. So, while lying there, I decided to venture up to this spot. I'm really glad I did! I found some wonderful patterns on the frozen lake and even had some very high clouds to pick up a bit of sunrise light.
Out with Ectro testing out Dennis Calvert's circle machine style. Usually i can't do this, since i'm alone, but i convinced Ectro that we should try it out. The tunnel was so foggy from the temperature difference between the inside and outside that we had to use a air blower to keep the lens un-fogged each minute and a half or so. This was about the longest photo we could take at about a minute.
PRESS L(BEST VIEWED ON BLACK)
Replicating one image i have previousely captured awhile back, with my 18-55m Nikon Kit lens using a set of Cokin Series filters,
Now that im use A Different filter (ND500 Lightcraft) anda different lens, (10-20m Sigma) i have wanted to try and replicate a few Pictures of mine, so this is the one( www.flickr.com/photos/jakelines/7124369197/in/photostream/ )
This bronze sculpture replicates the famous painting, Washington Crossing The Delaware by Emanuel Leutze. It depicts Gen. George Washington leading the Continental Army on a dangerous nighttime crossing of the Delaware River on December 25, 1776, to attack Hessian troops stationed at Trenton. His attack was a final, desperate effort to gain a victory after months of defeats had reduced the Army to a small, exhausted, and demoralized force. Washington’s success at Trenton reinvigorated the American cause and kept the Revolution alive.
The painting captures the drama, danger, and desperation of the river crossing, even though a number of details are historically inaccurate, such as the type of boat. The artist, Emanuel Leutze, grew up and was trained in Philadelphia, but created the painting in 1850 after he returned to his native Germany. The painting was a sensation when it was displayed in America the following year. ~ www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=106149
Day Trip, 4/6/2019, Philadelphia, PA
Panasonic DMC-GF2
LUMIX G VARIO 14-42/F3.5-5.6
ƒ/8.0 19.0 mm 1/60 160
FaceBook | Blogger | Twitter | Tumblr | Pinterest | Getty | Instagram | Lens Wide-Open
Guardando ed ammirando questi piccoli posti penso che la natura sia il vero dono materiale che abbiamo e che dobbiamo rispettare!
700,000 VIEWS....THANK YOU VERY MUCH.....
© All rights reserved. This image is copyrighted to Tim Wood; Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me at woodrot147@aol.com for express permission to use any of my photographs.
All of my images can be purchased...... Visit my website, coastal and countryside images at......
Facebook...
www.facebook.com/TimWoodPhotoGallery
Twitter......
My most popular photos on Flickr...
www.flickriver.com/photos/imagesofwales/popular-interesting/
Asiatic Lion Female with Cub from our recent visit of Sasan Gir on last Saturday.
#SensationalSasan #AsiticLion #MammalMania #HardikPala
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
“Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com”
“www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment”
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
Replicating a night owl in its intensity and ferocity. OK, maybe not the ferocity bit.
We're Here looks at Night Owls today.
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
“Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com”
“www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment”
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
There is a question on replication of two of my doll bodies.
mCC. On this body a situation such. I touched all conceived characters on this body and found out that I at me am not molded on mCC only one by Lee Pace. At me even basic on this body is not present any more.
So it turns out that personally I need only one last circulation.
And that the question whether I need - seems, I cooled down to the character. However, he is a handsome man, and I just like that do not refuse handsome men. So my position on this body such: if I nevertheless want Lee, then all the same following circulation will be the last. And if I do not want, then the last was last.
What opinion on this occasion at you? How do many people need mCC? In the winter I thought that there are persons interested to get for minimee, but the situation on minimee changed so...
I offer in comments to write it is necessary/not necessary and when if it is necessary?
The other day I estimated the sequence of circulations and novelties, defined the place for the possible circulation of mCC approximately through 8 circulations.
And maybe, you will have ideas and offers?
wC. Here all is a little differently. I with confidence closed replication of this body for the same reason that now with mCC - exhausted characters on it, I have no more need and there is no demand for it.
Nevertheless, infrequently but there are interesting people. Generally, same question: it is necessary /not necessary and if it is necessary, then when?
I can tell that by my calculations to pay the minimum circulation to the caster, and it did not cost a pretty penny to customers, about 5 pieces of castings are necessary. The cost of accessories will pay off too. But on payment of my work here the reserve will not be any more therefore it would be desirable 1-2 castings more that it was not so annoying to spend time for preparation of master-model, processing/assembly/shipment of castings.
Generally, I wait for your opinions.
I could not replicate the shot exactly due to the re-landscaping and trees planted along the old railway line, now cycle path. Sad to see the miners Institute in such a bad condition.
The DMUs shot is definitely taken off the platform footbridge of ABERTRIDWR station to get the height. The colliery in the background is WINDSOR.
ABER Branch opened 1st February 1894
Abertridwr was the only intermediate passing place on single line branch 3 miles and 34 chains in length.
Station was originally named ABER but station master suggested it be renamed ABERTRIDWR after expanding local village in June 1899
UNIVERSAL colliery further up the valley was the Synghenydd disaster colliery 1913 when 439 men died. It closed in 1928 but was used for ventilation for WINDSOR until 1979 when shafts were filled.
Hence UNIVERSAL appears to be derelict in many 1950s photos but shafts were still open.
Windsor colliery was linked underground to Nantgarw in 1976 but closed on 6th November 1986. Coal was extracted at Nantgarw from 1976 so no coal trains required up branch after 1976. .
Last DMU passenger train on branch 13 June 1964
RCTS excursion to WINDSOR 18th March 1972
Last coal train 4th Dec 1976 to WINDSOR colliery.
Last train was 15 April 1977 when industrial loco 27655 was recovered from colliery to Radyr yard by a class 47.
Spent the last few days on a commercial set where they used a giant LED screen that wrapped around a small set. Similar to what The Mandalorian used to film a lot of the first few seasons, it's able to realistically duplicate elaborate backgrounds, both static and in motion.
The stage manager told me they do a lot of car commercials, but currently have to show the car above the wheels, can't fake that, yet...but they're building another set where they'll have a moving track, it'll perfectly replicate a car driving down a road, up a mountain, into a forest, on and on.
I spent a good amount of time talking to him about the jobs lost, the way the money will move upwards, away from workers, to bosses...but for us, here, all I can think about is the loss of experience.
Resting on the lip of the tub, the bathroom floor warm because I pressed a button, Hannah Rose soothed by the hot bathwater, everything luxurious and calm and fun.
We were on a trip. We were dazzled by an expensive room neither of us could normally afford. We were having a great time.
All of that into the stew that made the photos we brought back.
Not, "I had a computer put this together" or "I created a series of prompts that generated this image", but "we flew across the country, had adventures, ate delicious food, played around in decadently-designed showers, watched fireworks on a Brooklyn rooftop."
The water has a temperature. The bathtub has a texture. The light coming from the windows that's perfectly diffused by the weird not-drapes, that's a choice a designer made, as if they knew we'd one day show up and take pictures.
That look on Hannah Rose's face is a reflection of a feeling she is having at that very moment. This photo is a reflection of an experience.
What good the result without the process? What good is a thing without the experience?
I have no idea how this light pattern got into my camera, other than I know I was in the car at night. It may me think--is a "true" abstract something that you could hope to produce on purpose, or reproduce? Is an abstract a unique moment in time and space captured in part by chance? It seems almost all of my "abstracts" started off as intentional shots and were degraded/upgraded to the "abstract" status after examination...
Camera club challenge a first quick iPhone attempt to prove the technique, www.moorecameraclub.org/Syllabus.php
troybooks.co.uk/a-witch's-natural-history.html
CHAPTER 7:
'ADDER'S FORK AND BLIND-WORM'S STING': THE MAGICAL REPTILE
It was one of those romantic and magical moments which, as one discovers later, it is impossible quite to replicate – but fear not. The cliché will have been subverted by the end of this paragraph. We had spent a blissful, mutually indulgent weekend in a thatched coaching inn, somewhere near to the heart of the Cotswolds. It was sunny beyond expectation, so we walked to the next village, admiring the crazy-eyed chickens which stood, cock-headed on a stone wall, as though expecting something importune, like the hatching of a Cockatrice. We poked around the church, shadowed at every window by suitably pagan yews, and then walked on by some bucolic alley which promised nothing in particular – only an idyll. At one side of it there was a stream, and at the other, another of those Cotswold walls, embedded in an earthen bank. The path led to an archetypal cottage of rough-hewn stone; wicker archways and roses in the garden. Ivy thrust wormlike roots through the crevices in the stone wall, creating dappled arbours suitable for those who dwelt within. This first warm day of spring, they were sluggish, absorbing the rays of the low sun, slow moving with a constant hiss, sliding viscerally through gaps in the stones. There was only one way to approach them: bare-footed, respectful, with wonder, and not fear. The adjoining stream was evidently their larder: here, frogs would conglomerate to mate, oozing frogspawn. The grass snakes would catch them by their toes, and gulp them down alive, so that the croak could still be heard within the gaping gullets. The struggle would continue awhile, within their guts. Later in the year, the grass snakes would feast on tadpoles, diving in the bubbling gushes, and gobbling them on lush grass. Their skins grown old, they would slide through twigs to slough them, their eyes glazed. The snakes live there to this day. We go back to see them sometimes, just for the sake of it.
You may have had any of a number of reactions to the paragraph above. It may have incited fear or disgust; if so, I pity you, and there is little more to be said. Indeed, I am surprised you started reading at all. Or perhaps you will opt for the Freudian interpretation: snakes have no limbs, and the more advanced species do not even possess pelvic girdles – hence they are phallic. Watson wasn’t being romantic at all – he was blinded by his lust, which he was hoping to satisfy behind the hedgerow around the corner. I fear that Freudians are secularised Christians who see a serpent coiled around every tree, and the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is filled with semen. This is to oversimplify snakes, just as it is to over-exaggerate the difference between eros and agape. The real reason why snakes are intensely romantic creatures for me is that they are entwined with my past; my memories, including the one I have just recalled are all lovingly wrapped in serpentine coils.
Growing up in south-eastern Australia, my first encounters with snakes were characterised by one emotion alone: awe. The first snake I remember encountering (I might have been five) was a red-bellied black snake swimming across a pond. As it emerged, my father turned it gently with his walking stick, and the scales on the underside were like a streak of undulating blood in the tussocky grass. It was not stupendously venomous by Australian standards, but well enough equipped to kill a small child. I remember when an expert herpetologist visited our school, commanding our obedient silence as he milked a sinuous taipan, its venom drooling into a plastic phial as he pinched it behind the jaw. It produces more venom than any other snake in the world; enough to make any health and safety legislator blue in the face. My first death adder was encountered on the road to Forbes, the town in the semi-arid zone of New South Wales which was the centre for the daring exploits of the bushranger Ben Hall – a man who must have met innumerable snakes before his life terminated at the end of a rope. It lay flaccid at the side of the road, seemingly too fat to form coils, and too torpid to move as I crouched to photograph it, half camouflaged against the rust-red earth. The poison glands in its head could have killed ten children of my body mass, and then could have killed ten more, as fast as a man can moisten his mouth after he has spat himself dry. And then there was that delicious moment when I was a teenage volunteer at the R.S.P.C.A, and a worried-looking family brought something bulging like blancmange inside a pillow case. I took one look inside, let out a shout of triumph, and delved within, my arms entwined with loving twists of diamond python. Once, years later, I was wearing him around my neck when I answered the door to some Jehovah’s Witnesses: a more effective repellent of intinerant evangelists has never been discovered.
Britain has three snake species, and among these, only one is venomous, albeit comparatively mildly so. In common with that of rattlesnakes and other forms of viper, Adder venom is primarily a haemotoxin, attacking the red blood cells and causing haemorrhage, in contrast to the neurotoxic venom of elapid snakes. Adder bites rarely cause human deaths unless they have not bitten for some time, or unless the victim is already infirm, or very young, but these have been enough to gain the snake both notoriety and folkloric significance. Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native incidentally records much of this folklore when Clym Yeobright finds his mother lying in the furze with an injured foot: “It was swollen and red. Even as they watched, the red began to assume a more livid colour, in the midst of which appeared a scarlet speck, smaller than a pea, which was found to consist of a drop of blood, which rose above the smooth flesh of her ankle in a hemisphere.” The immediate diagnosis, “She has been stung by an adder”, reflects the old country belief that the adder “stings” with its tongue. An adder’s fangs hinge backwards when not in use, and so are not immediately obvious in dead specimens, so that the “adder’s fork” used by the witches in Macbeth was long considered to be the origin of the poison. (Oddly, the Adder’s tongue fern, which was considered efficacious in the treatment of snakebites, is not forked at all, and the “blind worm” or slow worm, whose “sting” they also throw into the cauldron, is in fact a harmless, legless lizard.) Yeobright’s acquaintance Sam tells him, “There is only one way to cure it. You must rub the place with the fat of other adders, and the only way to get that is by frying them.” Sam accordingly goes out with his lantern, and returns with three adders hanging from his walking stick. Two of them are already dead, for – tellingly – he has killed them earlier that day whilst at work furze-cutting, and the third is still alive, for the fat is, apparently, only efficacious when fried from an adder which has just been killed. However, Sam is well-versed in adder lore, for he knows that the fat of the dead ones may still be potent: “as they don’t die till the sun goes down they can’t be very stale meat”. The assumption that adders cannot die until sunset is no doubt a reflection of the snake’s resilience, for a mortally wounded adder will often writhe and make its escape, dying some hours later. Another onlooker at Mrs Yeobright’s bedside, Christian Cantle, thinks that the serpent of the Garden of Eden lives on in the adder, and cries, “Look at his eye – for all the world like a villainous sort of black currant. ‘Tis to be hoped he can’t ill wish us! There’s folks on the heath who’ve been overlooked already. I will never kill another adder as long as I live.” In fact, whilst the grass snake and the smooth snake both have rounded pupils in their eyes, the adder’s pupils are elliptical, narrowing to slits in bright light. Elliptical pupils are normally characteristic of nocturnal creatures such as cats and geckoes, and therefore perhaps more suggestive of the Evil Eye. The three adders are duly chopped and fried, and their fat used to anoint the wound. When the doctor arrives, he affirms that the remedy is recommended by the medical experts, “Hoffman, Mead, and I think the Abbé Fontana”, but Mrs Yeobright dies in any case, the poor adder being deemed only partially responsible. Modern adder bites are treated with antihistamines and blood transfusions, although the affected area may also be treated with witch hazel – an update, perhaps, on the viper’s bugloss treatment recommended by Dioscorides in the first century.
Other aspects of adder-lore are similarly attributable to the doctrine of signatures: if an adder is poisonous, it must also be medically efficacious. Thus the shed skins of adders are sometimes tied around the forehead to relieve headaches. Further aspects of the folklore are probably inspired by flawed observation. Country folk have often maintained that baby adders will climb into their mother’s mouth and hide in her stomach when threatened. As adders bear their young alive, being ovo-viviparous, it is possible that this myth arose when heavily gravid females were killed and cut open to reveal the living young inside. Female adders do also form protective associations with their young, and it has been suggested that the disappearance of the young into the mother’s mouth is merely an optical illusion: they are in fact crawling underneath her belly and hiding themselves there whilst the mother’s mouth is open in self-defence.
An even older myth concerning the live-bearing adder was first recorded by Herodotus, and survived in a variety of forms into the medieval bestiaries: in the act of mating, the female was supposed to bite off the male’s head, only to be repaid in kind by her young, who eat their way out of her body, killing her. According to Pliny the coveted adder-stone of the druids was supposedly obtained when adders congregated and joined their heads together, and somehow extruded the stone encased in bubbles of froth. Adders do indeed meet and join their heads together; the beautiful “dance” of the adders is in fact a ritualised combat between two males for the possession of a mate, but the snakes do not froth at the mouth. Perhaps the dance of the adders was once observed on a coastal heath, and the cluster of bubbles was a whelk’s egg case which chanced to be blown there by the wind – a likely candidate, given that Pliny described the end result as pock-marked and cartilaginous. Another congregation of adders occurs when they entwine themselves together in clumps in order to hibernate. They sometimes remain intertwined when they emerge in spring, making them easy targets for the butt of a gamekeeper’s gun: perhaps this, too, gave rise to the idea that the snakes congregated in order to produce the adder-stone.
More difficult to explain is the insistence that adders can kill airborne skylarks by spitting at them and causing them to plummet to the ground; this, one fears, is an example of folklore inspired by pure malice. Never mind. The adder got his own back on human beings long ago, when he caused the battle of Camlann. Both Arthur and Mordred told their men not to charge unless a sword was drawn by the opposing side, but “Ryght so cam out an addir of a lytyll hethe-buysshe, and hit stange a knight in the foote. And so whan the knyght felte hym so stonge, he loked downe and saw the addir; and anone he drew his swerde to sle the addir, and thought none other harme.” The rest, of course, is history, or something very like it, and we leave Arthur and Mordred to assail each other with stings of their own. It was not, in any case, the adder’s first experience of battle. Hannibal had appreciated the martial potential of venomous snakes long before, and his method was absurdly simple: imprison them en-masse in earthenware jars, shake them up a bit, and throw them at the Romans.
The modern fear of snakes is a degenerate form of the awe with which they were once regarded: an awe which is admirably communicated in D.H. Lawrence’s poem, ‘Snake’, in which the serpent is recognised as “one of the lords/ Of life.” One of the adder’s greatest defenders, W.H. Hudson, suggested that the Judeo-Christian hatred of snakes was a reaction against polytheistic religions which invariably regarded them as sacred. The adder itself was a living mystical sigil, a writhing wyrm whose markings suggest written characters or ogham script. Occasionally one finds an adder whose underside is as plainly marked as the zigzag-patterned dorsal side, and it is said that these markings form the words: “If I could hear as well as see/ No man of life would master me”. Snake-handling goddesses are regarded with awe the world over, from the Babylonian Lamashtu, through the Aztec Coatlicue (Lady of the Skirt of Serpents) to the Hindu triple goddess Kali, whose hair was composed of snakes, like that of the Gorgon Medusa. Isis began her career as a snake-goddess – a cobra goddess to be precise – and her most eloquent convert, Apuleius, describes her rising out of the sea with the moon hanging above her forehead, and “Vipers arising from the left-hand and right-hand partings of her hair supported this disc”. Hecate carried two snakes, one symbolising healing, and the other sickness and death; perhaps it is her image – or one of her priestesses - that we see in the beautiful Cretan figurine of a woman, bare-breasted in a fashionable bodice and layered skirt, who holds two snakes in her upraised hands. According to Seneca, the much-maligned Medea, another beautiful priestess of Hecate, also bared her breasts and tossed her hair when she handled snakes, and in order to make her potion, which could either heal or kill, she evoked “everything snakelike”. It is a pity that her memory has been besmirched by Appolonius of Rhodes, who made her betray her people and the serpent-guardian of the golden fleece to that brazen pirate Jason, and by Euripides, who made her murder her own children in revenge for his subsequent faithlessness. Awe of venomous snakes, combined with a reckless handling of them, was characteristic of the Bacchic and Orphic mysteries immortalised by the murals of Pompeii; indeed, Orpheus’s descent into Hades was an attempt to retrieve his beloved, who had been killed by snakebite. Combat with snakes is also invariably imbued with religious significance: the lamentable ophidiophobia of St. George the dragon-slayer, and St. Patrick, who allegedly drove all of the snakes out of Ireland, has a more spiritually significant pedigree in the battle between Apollo and Python, and Thor’s wrestlings with the Midgard Serpent – conflicts which perhaps represent the overthrow of female deities by male ones. Even Moses was not averse to a bit of snake shamanism, for it was he who erected the brazen serpent, and following his example, Christian sects such as the Gnostics and the Ophists have depicted Christ crucified as a snake, and consecrated the Eucharist with live serpents. It comes as no surprise that they were soon condemned as heretical, although the caduceus, a serpent entwined around a staff associated with Asclepius, the god of healing, remains to this day a symbol of medicine. Asclepius himself carried two phials of blood from the gorgon Medusa: one to kill, and the other to resurrect – a pagan eucharist indeed.
Perhaps the most beautiful and most subtly erotic snake-myth of all is the story of Cadmus, described in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Cadmus once killed a gigantic serpent, and raised an army by sowing its teeth into the soil. Now, he has grown old, and wonders whether the gods are annoyed with him: “If this is what the gods are angry over, may I become a serpent, with a body stretched full-length forward.” The words have barely left his lips before he begins to transform. His legs are the first to disappear, and whilst he still possesses arms, he urgently embraces his wife. In her desperation, she pleads with the gods to transform her too, whilst Cadmus, now thoroughly ophidian, glides silkily between her breasts and entwines his body about her neck. She reaches to stroke her serpent husband’s scaly skin, and as she does so, she too is transformed, and they make for the woods before the horrified onlookers can beat their brains out or use their vital organs as ancient equivalents to Viagra. Touchingly, Cadmus and is wife are non-venomous; they are indeed “most gentle serpents” who never harm human beings. Perhaps they are pythons, retaining their vestigial pelvic girdles where their legs used to join their bodies. Would that all human beings were given the choice between advancing senility and an eternity as a loving serpent; I know which I would choose. Cleopatra must have been groping towards the same conclusion when she grasped the asp.
In any case, it is the snake’s own physiology which is the source of the religious awe it inspires. Anyone who has ever handled a snake knows that it is a creature of exceeding grace and dignity: its scales are smooth as polished jewels, and its undulating mode of locomotion is reminiscent of the movement of flowing water. This fluidity has made it the embodiment of a creator spirit. Even the spirit of Elohim, the creator in the book of Genesis, is first envisaged as moving on the face of the waters, as only a snake can do – an insight which was clearly understood by William Blake when he created his image of a serpent-bodied ‘Elohim Creating Adam’. Snakes can dislocate their jaws at will, enabling them to swallow prey which seems impossibly large: a creature which can engulf lesser beings in this way (anacondas have been known to swallow grown men), is bound to be regarded with awe. Snake venom is not only lethal; it also has psycho-active properties, although the reader is advised not to try this at home. It is amazingly durable: a stuffed snake is as venomous as a live one. Male snakes have a double penis, just like the devil, and female snakes have a paired clitoris – a notion which opens up all sorts of possibilities. A snake discards its skin when it has grown old; it even becomes blind and doddering like a geriatric when the scale which covers the eyeball turns opaque immediately prior to sloughing. It is therefore a metaphor for death and resurrection. When a snake strikes, it often does so with a speed undetectable to the human eye, so it is imbued with mystical power. If one approaches it in the right way, one may handle an adder without retribution – they have indeed been kept as pets by stalwart individuals – but one false move precipitates the lightning strike. Thus snakes are capricious, like the gods. Oviparous snakes like the grass snake, whose young do not hatch in the process of parturition, lay leathern eggs, and there is something mystical about these too; perhaps they, and not the whelk’s egg-case, are in fact the ovum anguinis of the druids.
Anguis is not, however, the generic name of a snake, but of the lowly slow-worm: not a venomous snake, but a legless lizard. Formerly, it was known as a blind-worm, presumably because its eyes, which have closable lids, are relatively smaller than those of snakes. It is quite harmless, and as its name suggests, rather sluggish in comparison to an adder or smooth snake energised by the sun. Its English relatives, the viviparous and sand lizards, are equally benign, and indeed frequently fall prey to our snakes. It is perhaps more difficult to ascribe magical significance to the Squamata, but the Romans seem to have done so, for they sculpted mystical hands out of bronze, with toads, snakes, tortoises and lizards crawling up towards the fingertips. No one knows their significance; perhaps they were fertility or healing charms, or wards against the evil eye. It is noteworthy, perhaps, that all of the animals depicted are cold blooded – but beyond that there is little to be said, save that the hands are clearly objects of power.
On the whole, however, if the snake’s biology makes it a likely metaphor for the divine, lizards are clearly earthy and mortal. With some notable warm-weather exceptions, they are not venomous; nor can they dislocate their jaws. They change their skins as snakes do, but slough them in flakes and ribbons rather than slipping them off like gloves. To the uninitiated, they seem altogether prosaic, but any inquisitive crow will tell you a different story. If you would capture a lizard, you must seize it by the head or the body. Grasp it by the tail, and the entire appendage will detach itself by splitting down the middle of one of the vertebrae, whilst the frenzied animal makes its escape through the undergrowth. More perplexing still, the severed tail will continue to undulate and squirm after it has been severed from the spinal column, as energised and frantic as one of Galvin’s frog-legs probed with an electrode. Your quarry is safe, and will soon grow a false tail – albeit one without vertebrae – and you have nothing to show for your pains but this threshing bit of scale and bone and gristle. In short, all of the English reptiles are object-lessons for the witch: the grass snake and the smooth snake are her images of occult beauty and erotic power; the adder is her psychopomp and her defense; but the lizard is her most practical guide of all, for he will provide her means of escape should the witch-finder seize her by the tail.
Tried to replicate my first ever Explored image, but I couldn't quite manage the Christmas tree bokeh!
(Given that I'm recovering from a heart attack, you should see the candy cane heart as an ironic statement of sorts. Happy Christmas to all my Flickr Friends. This is one Christmas I didn't think I'd make!)
UPDATE: This photo made Explore December 25th, 2009. Highest position: 110. Thanks so much!