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Music Volume
Narration Volume
World

Bacchic Frenzy

6634c1aa970de13881a7dfb5

These types of gruesome scenes are really enjoyable but also a challenge to portray in a non-gory way. I always want to honor the authenticity of the literary sources, but I'm also aiming to be inclusive to different age groups to enjoy these images and stories. So I want to find the line between the more mature content, in this case dismemberment, but also not making the art too gratuitous to scare off families and younger viewers. Ideally these works can be viewed by families together. I think if this type of content can be illustrated with restraint and respect, there's no reason why younger viewers can't be exposed to it.

These types of gruesome scenes are really enjoyable but also a challenge to portray in a non-gory way. I always want to honor the authenticity of the literary sources, but I'm also aiming to be inclusive to different age groups to enjoy these images and stories. So I want to find the line between the more mature content, in this case dismemberment, but also not making the art too gratuitous to scare off families and younger viewers. Ideally these works can be viewed by families together. I think if this type of content can be illustrated with restraint and respect, there's no reason why younger viewers can't be exposed to it.

I carry the weight of losing Eurydice yet again, wandering in a daze, unable to find peace, and unwilling to love another. Apollo is my only god now, and I shun all others. I roam in solitude until my path leads me into the wild forests of Thrace where the god Dionysus reigns. When I refuse his women cult followers, the Maenads, they tear me apart, piece by piece, their frenzy spilling my blood over the plains. As the river carries my severed head away atop my lyre, I call for my love—"Eurydice, my Eurydice"—until my voice fades away on the ripples of the water currents.

I carry the weight of losing Eurydice yet again, wandering in a daze, unable to find peace, and unwilling to love another. Apollo is my only god now, and I shun all others. I roam in solitude until my path leads me into the wild forests of Thrace where the god Dionysus reigns. When I refuse his women cult followers, the Maenads, they tear me apart, piece by piece, their frenzy spilling my blood over the plains. As the river carries my severed head away atop my lyre, I call for my love—"Eurydice, my Eurydice"—until my voice fades away on the ripples of the water currents.

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