Imprisoned at a great height with his father, the famed inventor of the Labyrinth. The young Icarus longed for freedom, for escape from their cage. His days consumed with gazing out over the bustling streets of Crete, at all of those free and favoured by the mighty King Minos. The land and seas were intensely guarded, rendering liberation near impossible.
Deadalus, father of Icarus, became impatient with their circumstance, locked atop the high tower. Banished here to protect the secret of the Labyrinth, he too shared Icarus’ yearning for freedom. His mind became increasingly lost in thought, analysing deeply all possibilities of escape. King Minos had strict control over land and sea; there could be only one way out.
Obsessed by his marvellous plan, Daedalus dedicated every moment of his time to muse upon the movements and mannerisms of birds, most specifically in flight. Analysing the intricate construction of their wings, he instructed Icarus to begin collecting feathers that had fallen from birds nestled around, and within, the tower. An inconceivable plan; the master craftsman would fashion two pairs of wings for the father and son to make their great escape.
After many months of painstaking work, individually connecting each of the loose feathers with wax, the wings were complete. The sculpted forms hung from the wall glowing in their magnificent splendour. Daedalus put down his tools and stood back in pride over the incredible accomplishment. However, his thoughts quickly moved onto their mission, which would see himself and Icarus journey over the great Labyrinth that entraps the ferocious Minotaur, the rooftops of their beautiful homeland of Crete and the glistening waters of the Aegean Sea to the island where they would make their final decent, now known as Icaria.
The moment had arrived. There had been no opportunity to test the structure, or practice the motions of flight, for fears of King Minos becoming aware of their plan to escape. It was daybreak, Daedalus carefully sculpted the wings onto Icarus’ arms and back. Looking deep into his son’s eyes, he warned of the fragility of the construction, insisting: “my son, these great wings are our freedom. They are our only means of escape from this desolate tower of entrapment. We must fly smoothly and swiftly over land and sea. However, I must warn you: fly too close to the sea and the rising mist will dampen the wings, rendering them too heavy to uplift you; fly too close to the sun, and the intricate wax structure will melt, until the feathers fall free and you return to your flightless form.”
Poised and ready with their wings securely moulded to their bodies, Icarus and Daedalus took a few quick leaps, flapping high up into the rafters of the tower, testing the mobility and upward thrust. They were magnificent, elegant, breathtaking, all that Daedalus could of wished for. Cautiously creeping out onto the precarious parapet, father and son stood tall side by side, wings splayed out, gently glistening as the sun began to peep above the horizon. With a final glance into each others eyes and a brisk nod of the head, they leapt for their freedom.
Flailing erratically, Icarus and Daedalus dipped downward and drove upward, twisting and turning through the air. Finally, focusing deeply on their hours of study, analysing the movements of birds, the pair found their form. Gliding softy, flapping rhythmically, they flew over the rooftops of the city, looking down upon the residents arising from their slumber and outward across the horizon. The feeling of air rushing through them, tangling their hair with the mist drifting in off the sea, engulfing their spirit with relief, joy, liberty.
The door slammed open, abruptly awakening King Minos from his rest. The alert: the great escape of Icarus and Daedalus. He rushed to the window, watching their bodies flutter and shrink rapidly off into the obis. He turned to his staff, stating he will not rest until the fugitives are returned to their cell. Meanwhile, Icarus and Daedalus were nearing their point of descent. Lessening his rhythm, Daedalus assumed the position to land upon the shore. Tearing the wings from his body, he looked back out over the vast waters. To his horror, there was Icarus, high in the clouds, fixated directly towards the sun. Icarus had become entranced by its constant glow and its heat like a hug, he could think of nothing less than reaching it.
Gliding through the stars, through time itself, into the void of endless silence, Icarus could see his destination become achievable. Exhausted, yet overly confident his father had been wrong, he pressed on, until the heat began to rise, increasing the difficulty of flight. Looking back, the fragile construction began to disintegrate before him. Feathers began to drift away to the point that Icarus felt gravity grasp hold of his torso, dragging him down, back to earth. Plummeting at a great speed, he hit the surface of the Aegean Sea with an impact resulting only in an instantaneous death. Simultaneously, hitting the coarse sands of the shore with his knees, Daedalus’ warnings to Icarus had become reality. Glaring out at the unfazed blue, their freedom had come at the ultimate price.
Don’t fly too close to the sun.
Available online at rserra.uk
Fashion, Photography & Art Direction: R.SERRA
Model, Story and Art Editor : Simon Wagstaff