Tag Archives: painting

Numinous and Ineffable

by in art, humor, life, painting, spirituality, supernatural and tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Have you ever thought about or had the desire to escape the mundane and sometimes harsh realities of everyday existence?  I don’t mean simply taking a road trip to Disneyworld but to actually transcend existence, leave the physical world behind and enter the realm of the numinous and ineffable.

Of course one problem might be that even if one could figure out how to get there this extra-physical place might not be all that pleasant, it being numinous and ineffable and all, but I was thinking, if I could go there it certainly would help put things into perspective.  I could view problems that seem to be so important and urgent in the here and now in a detached manner that, it seems to me, might be beneficial to my well-being as well as to finding solutions to those problems.

I was reading that certain shamans can make such a journey; they enter into an ecstatic state and actually leave their bodies to journey with their spirit helpers to the land of the dead where they can find answers to important questions that only the dead can answer.

Apparently in order to get to this point a shaman has to undergo some fairly extreme procedures.  Among the Buryat people of Siberia the future shaman must die and have his flesh scraped from his bones and his organs removed and then be reconstructed and reanimated by the spirit forces in order to gain the power to make his passage to the numinous and ineffable land of the dead.

I’m just not sure, as much as I’d like to see what the numinous and ineffable looks like, that I’m prepared to accept such a sacrifice even though my bodily transformation would probably have more to do with melted plastic than bone scraping.

I guess, for me, the numinous and ineffable will have to remain numinous and ineffable.

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Spectral Visions

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I’ve always been a huge fan of Edvard Munch.  The psychological weight he was able to express in his paintings is just amazing to me.  But, I guess when you think about his life it’s not too surprising his artwork is loaded with existential angst.

First of all, his mother died when he was five and his favorite sister when he was fourteen.  His mother’s death so upset his father that he developed extreme religious anxieties; he would tell Edvard and his sisters stories about the eternal punishments awaiting them in Hell.  On top of that, Edvard was often ill causing him to miss a lot of school meaning he got to spend even more time with his father.

By the time he reached manhood he was spending a lot of time drinking and fighting and generally being unhappy.  Then, he was shot in a struggle with the only woman he ever loved (other than his mother and sisters).

After that he suffered a nervous breakdown, nobody liked his paintings and things were generally pretty terrible, but he continued making art; recording the painfulness of his life and eventually people came around to understand the beauty of his work; how effectively his images capture man’s existential dilemma.

Things got better.  Norway built a museum to house his works.  They even put his image on a bank note.

It all sounds familiar doesn’t it: another story of a misunderstood genius whose strength of vision carries mankind to new insights that help people to better understand who they are?

I guess it’s a story with a happy ending even though there was a lot of suffering involved.

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On the Life and Death of Satan

by in art, humor, life, morality, painting, philosophy, religion, skepticism and tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments

I was reading recently about how the idea of Satan came about.

In the early middle ages St. Augustine determined that, as a result of Adam’s original sin and seeing as how we’re all descendants of Adam, evil exists in everyone.  This meant that when bad things happened everyone had only themselves to blame since they all had a bit of badness in them.  People bought into this pretty well because finding a scapegoat when badness happened wasn’t difficult.

Then, after a while, people began to take exception to St. Augustine’s concept thinking they really weren’t all that bad; actually they felt pretty good about themselves.  So they got to thinking it wasn’t them but something or someone outside themselves that made them be bad.  They anthropomorphized badness into a somewhat ambiguous horned satyr that they saw as perpetrating evil just because he wasn’t a very nice creature.  He was an idea most everyone could fear and dislike.

Later, in modern times, now that people don’t so much believe in supernatural entities anymore, Satan has begun to fade away.  So now, when bad things happen some people have gone back to finding a scapegoat, others have looked to St. Augustine and blame our inherent sinfulness and still others have dismissed the concept of evil altogether and rationalize badness as being relative to peoples and times.

When I think about how I stand on this I guess I lean towards relativism, but it takes some pretty hefty rationalization to accommodate some of the atrocities one hears about these days.

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Age of Aquarius

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My friend Astrid and I were planning to get together recently when she called to say she couldn’t leave the house.

Astrid is a strong believer in the efficacy of the Astral Plane as an indicator of future events.  She had just found out Saturn was entering her seventh house signaling Saturday, our planned meeting day, an inauspicious time to socialize.  Better, she said, not to tempt fate.

I thought about this for a while.  It all sounded pretty new-agie to me, but I decided to give Astrid the benefit of the doubt and found my birth chart on-line.

As you might imagine determining the exact time and date of my extrusion wasn’t easy.  The year was printed on the bottom of my left shoe; I consulted my keeper as to purchase date, estimated delivery time and took into account the slight flaw on my shoulder as an indicator of a rush job probably done shortly before the end of workday.

Anyway, my chart indicated among other things the moon was in Aquarius just passing into my eighth house.  What this suggested was my head was full of original ideas but that I would have the tendency to be selfish and blunt.

Being the skeptic I am I called Pearl.  We went out and had quite a good time.  I thought I was quite a pleasant companion until Pearl told me she hadn’t noticed the smear on my shoulder before.  I responded by telling her she wasn’t exactly Miss America herself.

Pearl just shrugged off the comment but it definitely got me thinking:  I wonder what will happen when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars?  Will peace guide the planets and love steer the stars?

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Religion as Art

by in art, art and commentary, humor, painting, philosophy, religion, skepticism and tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

I was reading a while ago about the Ban-Yatra, a Hindu pilgrimage which is performed in the Braj region of northern India.  Unlike many pilgrimages the ban-Yatra isn’t focused on reaching a sacred locale or the place of Holy Relics but rather is about uncovering the sacred in the profane as the pilgrimage progresses.

Braj is believed to be the birthplace and playground of Krishna.  Many of the stories of Hindu literature mention places and land forms here as sites where Krishna performed his miracles, cavorted with his cowherd friends and engaged in love-play with the Gopi’s and his beloved Radha. The pilgrimage involves circumambulating Braj, visiting shrines and temples and partaking in various rituals.

Unlike some eastern religious philosophies the worship of Krishna isn’t about renunciation of this world-denial of desire, but quite the opposite: realizing desire in the beauty of nature and celebrating the love of Krishna as being non-different from it. In order to do this the pilgrim cultivates bhava, an emotional and imaginative energy that allows him or her to see beyond the mere commonplace and experience the presence of Krishna in the natural surroundings.

One scholar suggests that in achieving bhava the pilgrim becomes like a poet creating meaning in the landscape as he or she passes through it.

Wow!  What a great observation. The artist certainly creates alternative worlds through imaginative emotive means; a significant parallel to the creative religious practice of the Ban-Yatra pilgrim. Maybe the difference between the two lies in just how literally one believes in the existence of this other world and its inhabitants. The artist, I suspect, is less likely than the pilgrim to embrace his/her imaginings as factually existent.

It seems to me religious practice in general could profit from a bit more creative play and a bit less dogmatic belief.

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Intelligent Design

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LeonardD the artist doll just completed a series of artwork using only objects and materials he was able to find around the house.  He came by the other day to tell me about the work.  He said that he felt confident he could make art out of anything.  Well, I thought that was pretty interesting, so to challenge him I asked what art he could create if he were locked in a windowless room with nothing in it.  He said that he believed he could come up with something.

We talked about it awhile and decided that the artwork would need to be a tangible object that he could bring out with him when he left the room; we ruled out performance or conceptual art like John Cage’s 4’ 33” (a pianist sits at a piano in front of an audience for four minutes and thirty-three seconds without touching the keys) and the zen idea used by various artists in which blank white walls inspire a meditative immersion.

My friend said that to make something tangible from nothing sounded like something only God could do but decided to give it a try nonetheless.

I locked him in one of the empty rooms in my doll house.  He was in there quite some time.  When he emerged he held in his hand a small object of indescribable material that glowed as if lit from within.  The object clearly exhibited the creative intelligence I know my friend to have.

I was blown away.  LeonardD was uncharacteristically reticent about what occurred in the room, where the material came from and how he produced what he did.  After he left and I thought about it for a while there was only one conclusion I could draw: my friend is God.

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What emotions look like

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I was thinking the other day how emotions sometimes creep up on a person, how they seem to come out of nowhere.  Suddenly one finds herself overwhelmingly attracted to someone, for instance, or some trivial incident leaves one extremely agitated for no apparent reason.

When one finds herself deeply in love it often comes as a revelation; one moment content in singularity and suddenly deeply connected to another.  Or, consider anxiety, how it can wheedle itself into your consciousness.  It lies in wait, bides it’s time until finding you at your most vulnerable, teases you with what in normal circumstances would be ridiculously mundane but now is horribly threatening.

It makes me think the ancients weren’t just being poetic when they personified emotions and that makes me wonder what these personified emotions might look like. Emotions, of course, aren’t simple; take love: it isn’t only erotic but can be love of beauty and wisdom or altruistic care for others. Does that make Love a multiple personality?  Maybe there are a whole team of Loves that travel around together. I think Erotic Love might look like Eve in the Garden; the original innocent lover and first mother. Anxiety I can see as a clown. He hides his true nature, presenting himself as something he’s not; a malevolent entity harboring one’s deepest fears.

But then, as I think about it, perhaps it’s the other way around.  Eve is the temptress, the cause of man’s downfall, the conspire r with evil; the clown is the innocent, timid, lover, his unrealized passion revealed in his attempts to please.

I guess it’s up to the individual to paint the picture with the colors she finds most appropriate.  I’m inclined toward the evil clown but I must admit it may be because I can’t get Pennywise the dancing clown from Stephen King’s ‘It’ out of my head.

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Beauty or Beast?

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Have you ever thought about how much physical appearance determines the person one becomes?  I mean, would the Barbies be so shallow and smiley all the time if they didn’t have such symmetrical, svelte features?  Would Woody Allen have developed a nervous, quick, humorous repartee or Christopher Reeves have been the strong silent type?

Even among children the larger toddler seems to command greater respect from her peers.  Given normal intelligence such a child is likely to fall right into the role of leader of the pack.

I guess my diminutive size and unexceptional appearance has led me to a life of solitary introspection and contemplation.  I’m not complaining.  It’s pretty clear to me one can be too exceptional; take King Kong.  All he wanted to do was spend some time with Fay Wray but because of his size everyone was afraid of him and wouldn’t leave him alone.

I’ll be content to just be who I am.

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Born Again

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For me, I don’t think there’s anything as energizing as the onset of spring.  As the temperature becomes mild, the birds began to sing and the crocuses began to appear I feel my spirits lift.  There’s a sense of rebirth in the air; life reappears after months of dormancy.  In some ways it’s like a religious experience.

My friend Pearl said this idea reminded her of an experience she had while attending a revival meeting a while ago.  She said the evangelist told the congregation that life was suffering because of the guilt of their sins and the only way to overcome the depths of despair, the fear and trembling of existence was to leap into faith and be born again.

Pearl thought about this awhile but being a bit of a skeptic and seeing rebirth wasn’t in her plans for the evening, she decided to pass on the leap and just deal with the despair and absurdity of human existence the best she could.

Well, all I can say is if our existence is essentially despairing and absurd then why do I have spring fever?

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Women’s Business

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I got a letter from Juju Wilson the other day.  She informed me her family had recently gained ownership rights to their ancestral lands near Kununurra in Western Australia.  The land is very important to her and her family and she wanted to let everyone know.

When I visited Juju and her grannies a few years ago, they told me about women’s business.  Juju said women sing songs of power that are forbidden to men.  She said the songs are as old as time; that they were sung by creator beings in the dream time to bring the world into being.  The birds and animals, the goannas, rivers, water holes and billabongs all came to be in this way. One day while I was there Juju and her grannies took me to a sacred site where they had each been, in their time, initiated into womanhood.  It is a place where two supernatural spirits, the Namarrgarn Sisters, reside.   On the wall of an alcove there, is a painting of the sisters  transforming themselves into crocodiles.

I think these women are truly fortunate to live so close to their spiritual origins.  I wonder how different the world might be if everyone had such a meaningful connection to place.

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