Carved in collapse.
I tattooed this piece at Visions of Ecstasy in Berlin.
It was a small flash—just a simple rendering of the bust. I think the ideat deserved more space. Bigger.
The sculpture shows Alexander the Great—not at the height of empire, but at the edge of mortality. His head leans, his eyes drift, his mouth slightly open like he’s already somewhere else. It doesn’t scream “hero.” It whispers human.
At first glance, it looks classical—majestic even. But look longer, and you notice the absence of tension. No sword. No defiance. Just a strange quiet, like the exact moment the weight of the world slips off your shoulders.
Some call it “The Dying Alexander.” Others say it might not be him at all. But that ambiguity feels right—like this face belongs to anyone who once believed they were larger than life.
That’s what caught me. It wasn’t the drama of death, but the vulnerability. The end of ambition. The soft blur between man and myth. Whoever carved it wasn’t glorifying conquest—they were showing what’s left when the story ends.
I kept thinking about how finality can be tender. How even the most unstoppable force becomes still. I sketched it once—just the face. Let it float, detached, unfinished. Not as an idol, but as a question:
What does power look like when it’s letting go?
🏛️ “Dying Alexander” – escultura na Galleria degli Uffizi (Florença)
https://www.uffizi.it/en/artworks/so-called-dying-alexander📜 A morte de Alexandre, o Grande – Wikipédia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Alexander_the_Great🗺️ Alexandre: biografia, império e legado
https://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandre,_o_Grande🗿 Arte helenística e a representação do corpo na morte
https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ancient-art-civilizations/greek-art/hellenistic/a/the-dying-gaul