- Lyrics to Strange Weather, written by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan, 1987.
***
"I know I'm not young and I'm damaged," she wrote defiantly. "But I'm still pretty kind of funny."
- Marianne Faithfull, ironic till the very end. In youth, irony is an art... In old age it's a necessity. This quote was sourced from the BBC's comprehensive tribute.
I'm sad to report that Marianne Faithfull slipped away from us on January 31 of this year. Weirdly, I didn't find the news till yesterday, although I can't understand how I managed to miss it.
It seems like I had just blogged about her recently. So, the news hit hard. Marianne was a special woman; sort of a triple goddess figure: a charming, gracious lady, a bawdy broad, and, lastly, an enchanted little match girl. But, for those of us who more or less grew up with her, she was an invincible survivor. Throughout all of her trials and tribulations she remained strong, maintaining her dignity and a sense of humor. Oh, and she remained an unapologetic smoker, an outstanding feat of resilience these days.
As a performer she was unique; she had at least 3 incarnations. Marianne #1 had the clear-bell voice of an angel. Marianne #2 sang like a wildcat on the prowl. Marianne #3 was the world-weary chanteuse. She could've glammed it up with feathers and furs, but, she never needed to. She was the real deal.
And, we'll miss her.
(The lovely photo - inset right above - was taken by Bruce Weber in 1996 and can be found on MF's website, along with many other great shots.)
About the photo: It looks like it might be a reject from a fashion-photo shoot; in reality' it was anything but. Nor was it any sort of "selfie," or so I thought when I shot it.
Actually, when I first noticed the way the shadows were falling on the motel balcony that night, my first thoughts were on all the geometry that lay beneath my feet. I had to use it. Shot in just the right way, the shadows, the balcony, the railing, my feet...
well, to make a long story shorter, I think it worked. Basically, I just kept my eye on that corner in the foreground and kept shooting.
"I began to see the possibilities offered by the regular division of the plane. For the first time I dared to create compositions based on the problem of expressing endlessness within a limited plane."
I've posted the (single) money shot (above). Poised in the red shoes, I seem to be standing on a spiraling, impossible plane designed by M.C. Escher, (quoted directly above). Success! A birthday gift!
But, then, there was the matter of the red shoes. Because, apart from the pop of color the shoes provided, intuition informed me that the red shoes had more significance; perhaps, a personal one. It also occurred to me that, although I had heard references to red shoes in the past, I had never read the original fairy tale...
(Continued below the jump.)
***
"... Booker T. & the M.G.'s played a handful of instrumental R&B tunes, wearing brilliant lime green suits, then they were joined by an identically attired Otis Redding who electrified the audience with his sexually charged singing style.He sang his 1965 song "Respect" which was topping the charts because of a popular new interpretation by Aretha Franklin. Redding finished with a riveting "Try a Little Tenderness". The crowd responded by standing and screaming for more. Redding had been included on the bill through the efforts of promoter Jerry Wexler, who saw the festival as an opportunity to advance Redding's career. Until that point, Redding had performed mainly for black audiences, besides a few successful shows at the Whisky a Go Go..."
The festival would be one of his last major performances: Redding died only six months later, in a plane crash, at the age of 26."
- A quote sourced from the Wiki entry for the 1967 Monterey International Pop Festival which rock purists recognize as more relevant to rock music history than Woodstock, the larger and more famous festival which followed in 1969.
I found the video (above) of Otis Redding on Christmas day. It was my first gift of the holidays. In spite of his tragically short career, Redding was considered the King of Soul and it's confirmed by this stellar Monterey Pop performance. There's a few moments in the video when he extends a note in such a way it pierces your heart. Can't touch that.
Note: Redding died at age 26; a tad too soon to gain entrance into the 27 Club. Interestingly, however, also performing at Monterey were Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin... while Brian Jones wandered through the crowd. And they, like Morrison and, later, Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain, are members of that incorporeal group of rock dignitaries who died at the tender age of 27.
Well, it's that festive time of the year again... that is, the year's end. December is a holiday month celebrated by cultures world-wide. So, in lieu of presenting new material in the form of the long (dense) blog post I initially had in mind, I decided to present 5 superb spirals recently found in the course of my spiral journey. Think of them as golden greeting cards. In ways they are historical pieces; for the most part (sacred) geometric artifacts discovered, like Gustav Moreau's Venus, in art from the turn of the 19th century. Speaking of historical, the first spiral I ever posted was on Christmas, 2021.
Above is the first Spiral for this year's holiday season. The image first appeared on this blog in a "swan people" post. At the time, it's sculptor was not known to me and the link to the image has since been lost, but when I recently viewed that post again, the spiral in the image leapt out at me and I just had to formally locate it. For some reason, I had always imagined it as a work of a 19th century European artist, but, no, Night Flight is the work of Michael Parkes, stylistically, a contemporary American Symbolist and Surrealist... although both artistic movements and styles are often (presently) referred to as magical realism.
(The spiral inset left is another possibility. I've begun to see these different orientations of the same basic spiral as, not so much artifacts of the main spiral, but, rather, the indication of a superior spiral - that is, one in which rotation of the triangle does not change the spiral's overall character.)
I generally refrain from analyzing the work of living artists, but, in this case... well, it's such a beautiful example of golden art, I felt compelled to share it.* In spite of the fact that Night Flight is in three dimensions and not two, I have recently found that the spiral can still be "mapped" on an object... and, as it happens, the corresponding points between the spiral mechanism and Parke's sculpture are so elegant, I'm getting the urge to put lights on them! Maybe I will; it's the holiday.
(Note: although one can't be sure, it seems that the spiral in the image is terminating around the figure's hand which is obscured by the swan's wing in the image shown. See this Pinterest alternate view.)
The reality regarding this holiday season, however, is that I would be blind, indeed, if I overlooked the fact that millions of people might not be celebrating any holiday at all this month. My sincere condolences go out to them for their losses... up to and including the illusionary loss of their true spirits. My sincerest wish is that these spirits are found again after this particular ugly period in history has passed, the toxins have cleared, and all of us can live in peace and dignity again... if not for the first time in history. Blessed be.
December is also the birth month of (some of) those unusual people born under the astrological sign of the Sea Goat, Capricorn; those who should be proud of both of their symbolic heritage and the other movers and shakers born under that sign. Oddly enough, Night Flight has origins that resonate for those Capricorns born on the cusp the year. From the article linked to previously:
"Night Flight from Michael Parkes started life as a painting and was later also realized as a bronze sculpture. The subject is a part of a fairy tale that Michael used to tell his daughter about the world of the swan kingdom. In pursuit of the Unknowable, the swan princess is encouraged by the swans to fly. Until ultimately, like Castaneda’s leaping from the cliff, she will learn to shift from matter into spirit and back again as we all must do eventually."
Interestingly enough, yesterday, while not quite meaning to, I (innocently) stumbled into a witches brew of related occurrences which emerged almost simultaneously. And, it all began when a song began playing in my head the very minute I got out of bed. It was an old Bob Dylan tune sung by a woman... possibly a Joan Baez cover. In fact, the song was playing for hours in my mental background... all the while I was discovering some of the most amazing spirals I had ever seen in ancient works of art. So, there's that synchronicity.
Then again, if you've read this blog before, you know my policy regarding tunes that come unbidden into ones head... one must find them, explore them, and (inevitably) post them. Which is how Faithfull's cover of this song came to appear here, tucked inside this brilliant video. And, really, the juxtaposition of the older, wiser, matured Marianne Faithfull's voice with her youthful, Venus-like (immortalized) self is perfection. The younger Venus is sweet, fresh-faced and visually flawless; the older Venus who sings Dylan's wistful song is still beautiful, but now has balls (she has dearly paid for). Although the younger goddess charms us, we ultimately put our trust in the older, unapologetic Venus. Inset left is one cover photo for what was her first mismanaged attempt at a comeback album - featuring Baby Blue... - finally released in 1985.
As it happens, It's All Over Now, Baby Blue is considered Bob Dylan's Symbolist offering... which is interesting, as Symbolist has come up in a recent post. It is also a song which has been covered by many people. (Note: excellent cover by Van Morrison and Them)(link repaired).
I also learned and relearned some curious things about Ms. Faithfull... the film-clips featured in the video, for instance, were from a vaguely erotic 1960's French/British film (with surrealist overtones) she once starred in - Girl on a Motorcycle / La Motocyclette - along with that (gorgeous) French actor, Alain Delon (who plays her extramarital lover). (Spoiler alert!: Apparently, our motorcycle girl dies en route to meet her illicit lover; i.e., a stereotypical bad ending for a "bad" girl... that is, "dark Venus" through misogynistic eyes,)
Speaking of "dark Venus," Marianne Faithfull has another connection, a family connection, with one of the darkest fictional Venuses of all time: Venus in Furs (also here). Her great, great uncle, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (re: origin of the word masochism) actually wrote the book! I do remember this from reading her 1994 autobiography - possibly one of the best autobiographies I've read. What I didn't remember about Venus in Furs, however, is that it was later illustrated by Salvador Dali, an artist I'm featuring in an upcoming Venus-related post!
(Oh yeah, and there's one more thing: Marianne, like Patti Smith, and myself, was also born late in December.) (And, now, for a moment of a silence.)
In any case, it occurred to me today that if a reincarnated Sandro Botticelli was alive (and painting) in the mid-20th century, it might have been Marianne Faithfull's likeness we would see, wavering around on her massive scallop-shell in the Birth of Venus. Of course, if Botticelli were alive in the mid-twentieth century, he probably wouldn't have bothered with the shell. He might have, instead, clothed her in black leather and set her on a motorcycle.
And, in an earlier incarnation? How about a large bird? (See below.)
Stay tuned.
Venus on the move - riding the goose who laid the golden egg - circa 400 BC. G - DS - 2023
(December 3 note: There was a time when Venus Aphrodite was neither nude, nubile or blonde. She rode, fully clothed, upon a swan - or upon a golden goose - and she carried a staff... or, with both hands swirled a (sometimes red) chiton in the air above her head. Once, and possibly only once, she balanced a golden plant in her palm... held before her like a sword balanced on its hilt. This happened somewhere near the very beginning...)
"Take me now baby here as I am Hold me close, try and understand Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe Love is a banquet on which we feed
Come on now try and understand The way I feel when I'm in your hands Take my hand come undercover They can't hurt you now, Can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us
Have I doubt when I'm alone Love is a ring, the telephone Love is an angel disguised as lust Here in our bed until the morning comes Come on now try and understand The way I feel under your command Take my hand as the sun descends They can't touch you now, Can't touch you now, can't touch you now
Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us
With love we sleep With doubt the vicious circle Turns and burns Without you I cannot live Forgive, the yearning burning I believe it's time, too real to feel So touch me now, touch me now, touch me now
Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us
Because tonight there are two lovers If we believe in the night we trust Because tonight there are two lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us"
- The lyrics to Because the Night by Bruce Springsteen and Patti Smith, 1978. Translatable lyrics.
***
Because the Night was Patti Smith's first and last (commercially) Big Hit, but, listening to it today, it seems less like a mere pop tune and more like an ectoplasmic incantation worthy of the Eleusinian Mysteries. And, Patti Smith, like one of the key figures in those Mysteries - Persephone, the girl Goddess, beloved by her mother, betrothed to the King of the Dead - guides us through the Underworld to the Temple of Love; the gateway of immortality. That an almost pagan chant would be popularly embraced - and there have been a number of covers throughout the years as well - is not all that unusual. Love is our primary motivation; Love is our night-blooming flower (Sub Rosa) and that its power unfolds in darkness is a very primal conception. Eros, the God of Love, was born of darkness. We are all born of darkness: the womb, the birth tomb (with its secret passageway outwards).
Patti Smith has always struck me as a kindred spirit. She and I were both born during the last days of December, for one, and, regardless of whether you're astrologically literate or not, I find that people who are born at the turning of the year share specific traits... specifically, we're very often outsiders, and outside of time as well; as if being born on the cusp of a year endowed us with the ability to slip through time's cracks. And we have a strange relationship with death. Once again, we seem to be psychically placed at a portal. Psychologically, on the other hand, we're like Peter Pan; we can't really "grow up." We grow inwards.
(Inset right) is a photograph of Patti by Robert Mapplethorpe which appeared on her 1988 album, Dream of Life.
In any case, I'm guessing that for many an outsider artist, Smith's unexpected emergence into the rock world of the late 1970s was a many-splendored thing. She was the wild child of her time... and she never resorted to playing the gender card. It wasn't as if she couldn't, but, like an androgynous little kid - and we all start out that way - it quite possibly never occurred to her...
"The drugs they say To make us feel so hollow We love in vain Narcissistic and so shallow The cops and queers To swim you have to swallow Hate today No love for tomorrow
We're all stars now in the dope show We're all stars now in the dope show
There's lots of pretty, pretty ones That want to get you high But all the pretty, pretty ones Will leave you low And blow your mind
We're all stars now in the dope show We're all stars now in the dope show
They love you when you're on all the covers When you're not, then they love another They love you when you're on all the covers When you're not, then they love another
The drugs they say Are made in California We love your face We'd really like to sell you The cops and queers Make good-looking models I hate today Who will I wake up with tomorrow?
There's lots of pretty, pretty ones That want to get you high But all the pretty, pretty ones Will leave you low And blow your mind
They love you when you're on all the covers When you're not, then they love another They love you when you're on all the covers When you're not, then they love another
There's lots of pretty, pretty ones That want to get you high But all the pretty, pretty ones Will leave you low And blow your mind Go blow your mind
We're all stars now in the dope show We're all stars now in the dope show"
The lid of a second (smaller) music box... (virtually) composed of mother-of-pearl fragments inlaid into black stone, 2017, DS.
(Click to enlarge)
"I was visiting a strange city... and although I can't recollect having been there before, it wasn't totally unfamiliar to me. I was looking out a hotel window at the city lights and making plans to go out a bit later. David Bowie would be performing at a venue nearby and I planned on being there. The thing is, I was aware he had died the previous year, but somehow seeing him "live" in the present didn't seem unusual to me... it's as if it wasn't merely possible in this place I had come, but, to be expected.
The next thing I remember is that I was at an airport again... walking down a long sort of corridor from which passengers either board a plane or disembark. Suddenly, I thought I saw someone who looked like David Bowie moving towards me, but, he wasn't alone. Although I have no recollection of his companions, they seemed to be walking on either side of him and supporting him as he walked. He seemed unsteady and appeared to be in pain. His face - which was red as if sunburnt - seemed somewhat distorted. In fact, my impression now is that he may possibly have been in the process shape-shifting, but, this didn't occur to me then, and, by the time we came face to face, he looked younger - in his thirties (?) - but perfectly normal.
We had a conversation then. I don't remember what it was about but DB was very charming and endearing, He came across as a kindred spirit but, ultimately, I felt somewhat sad and remorseful. I impulsively kissed and embraced him, saying "I'm so sorry I never met you while you were still alive."
At which point he looked at me and said: 'There are other lives.'
This so astounded me I woke up."
- The second dream recollection, February 10, 2017, DS. The lovely man with sax (inset left) can be found here.
“Being imbued with a vividly active imagination still, I have brilliantly Technicolor dreams. They’re very, very strong. The ‘what if?’ approach to life has always been such a part of my personal mythology, and it’s always been easy for me to fantasise a parallel existence with whatever’s going on. I suspect that dreams are an integral part of existence, with far more use for us than we’ve made of them, really. I’m quite Jungian about that. The dream state is a strong, active, potent force in our lives. The fine line between the dream state and reality is at times, for me, quite grey. Combining the two, the place where the two worlds come together, has been important in some of the things I’ve written, yes. That other life, that doppelganger life, is actually a dark thing for me. I don’t find a sense of freedom in dreams; they’re not an escape mechanism. In there, I’m usually, ‘Oh, I gotta get outta this place!’ The darker place. So that’s why I much, much prefer to stay awake.”
- David Bowie, from a 4-part 2013 interview: "I'm Hungry for Reality". Inset left is Leonora Carrington's And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur, 1953. Note: All Carrington paintings used in the body of this post can be found on this page.
"Another dream-determinent that deserves mention is telepathy. The authenticity of this phenomenon can no longer be disputed today. It is of course, very simple to deny its existence without examining the evidence, but that is an unscientific procedure which is unworthy of notice. I have found by experience that telepathy does in fact influence dreams, as has been asserted since ancient times. Certain people are particularly sensitive in this respect and often have telepathically influenced dreams."
"The Chinese also developed interesting theories regarding how mental and psychic functioning depends upon different energy forms. They considered the dreamer's soul to be one of the principle agencies of dream production but made a distinction between the material soul or p'o, which regulated body functioning and ceased with its death, and the spiritual soul or hun, which left the body at death and carried the appearance of the body with it. It was the hun that was involved in dreams, because it could separate temporarily from the body for nighttime excursions to the land of the dead. There it would communicate with spirits or souls of the dead and return to the body with impressions from these visits."
- Excerpt from Our Dreaming Mind by Robert L. Van de Castle, Ph.D. (1927-2014). Inset right is the painting Dervault by Leonora Carrington.
"Reveal thyself to me
and let me behold a favorable dream.
May the dream that I dream be favorable;
may the dream that I dream be true.
May Makhir, the goddess of dreams, stand at my head;
let me enter the temple of the gods and the house of life."
- Prayer of a Mesopotamian "incubant" or dream-seeker.* Note: Dream incubation is the ancient ritual of going to sleep in a sacred place in anticipation of receiving a helpful or precognitive dream from a divine benefactor. It was common in ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, Rome and amongst the earliest Christians.
***
Well, finally, after stalling for so long, I decided to cut-to-the-chase and post both the second dream and the new music box lid right at the beginning of Part III (the last part) of this series. I can only hope they were worth waiting for.
It's funny, but when I read over my dream recollection above, a track from Bowie's Low - A New Career in a New Town - started going through my head. Which was kind of appropriate. One (unmentioned) element of Bowie's performance in the strange city of my dream is that it was to take place in a small, intimate venue. And, you might say, that for Bowie to be performing in small, intimate venues would (indeed) be a "new career"...
Rolling Stone February cover - photo credit: Anton Corbijn/Getty Images Article: David Bowie's Final Years (click to enlarge) For more recent Rolling Stone articles about DB click here.
At your newsstand: this recent TIME publication. (Click to enlarge.)
Along with so many people, I've been grappling with the death of David Bowie - America's resident alien - since Monday of last week. I think it's amazing just how many of us, all over the world, were not merely saddened or surprised by his death, but truly devastated. That is, we took it personally.
For the past few days I've been struggling to put into words the various ideas that have begun running through my head regarding this transformative event in our collective consciousness, but "words" seem increasingly inadequate. If a miracle occurs and I can finally gather my thoughts into something comprehensible, I'll post again. But, don't hold your breath(s). Meanwhile, I found this charming little video clip from Charlie Rose's 1998 interview with David, that I'll post here... and I'll be replacing the Bowie tunes on the sidebar with some others. At this moment, it's the best I could do.
Bliss to David, and peace to you all.
___________________________
"A pair of wings, a different respiratory system, which enabled us to travel through space, would in no way help us, for if we visited Mars or Venus while keeping the same senses, they would clothe everything we could see in the same aspect as the things of the Earth. The only true voyage, the only bath in the Fountain of Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to see the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is; and this we do, with great artists; with artists like these we do really fly from star to star."
"Barnbrook loved working with David Bowie, he was simply one of the most inspirational, kind people we have met. So in the spirit of openness and in remembrance of David we are releasing the artwork elements of his last album ★ (Blackstar) to download here free under a Creative Commons non-commercial share alike licence. That means you can make t-shirts for yourself, use them for tattoos, put them up in your house to remember David by and adapt them too, but we would ask that you do not in any way create or sell commercial products with them or based on them. Any questions or commercial licence usage please contact us." (The Blackstar image above is my own modification of the download. Click to enlarge, and feel free to grab it for your personal, non-commercial use.)
***
For those interested, DB's natal astrology chart is online (link repaired 1/6/2026). Interestingly, he, like myself, was born with his Capricorn sun in the 12th house. Unlike myself, he had a lot of fire and air in his chart, which is reflected by his incredible charisma and success as a performer.
***
(May 4, 2016) This just in: Apparently a fan discovered that the Black Star gatefold inside the interior of the DB's (vinyl) Blackstar album is not solid black after all. When held in the sunlight, a starry view of the night sky appears. I wonder if it's a real photo, and what area of the galaxy it is. Maybe he was trying to tell us something... ;-)
Cast-stone box-lid, taken from a carved plaster original - app. 3" X 5"- 1993, DS (click on all images to enlarge)
“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living; this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.
This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad in a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight.”
“But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as a man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called -- called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.”
“He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.”
- Three quotes from: Call of the Wild, the 1903 novel by Jack London.
***
I generally try to avoid recounting dreams on blogs, because, for anybody but the dreamer, they're generally boring. But, in the case of this morning's (July 6th) dream, I actually tried a different technique of dream interpretation and searched its elements online. So, while anyone reading this may or may not find the dream itself terribly exciting, this method of unravelling dream symbols might intrigue. The Dream: I was living with my friend, Moo, or, possibly just visiting, but, due to the weirdly circuitous nature of dreams in general, I only became conscious of the dream at the point I'm about to describe. At this point, someone (?) inquired about the disappearance of Mindy, Moo's family dog. Horrified, I suddenly realized that I had let Mindy out the previous night, but had forgotten all about her! I immediately ran to the door I'd let her out of... it was huge white door, filling one wall of the tall, but narrow, white room it opened from. Oddly enough, I found that it was open and slightly ajar, so, I had never actually closed the door at all. I still felt guilty, but I surmised that the dog could've come back indoors if it wanted to. At this point the dream convolutes in such a way, that I realized that Mindy has gone far off into the surrounding woods. I can see her. But, the dog I actually see in the woods is a large St. Bernard. Mindy is not, in reality, that breed of dog (although there is a St. Bernard in Moo's son's family), but this didn't occur to me till I woke up. It also came to me in the dream that, perhaps, Mindy had gone up in the woods to die. But, while this upset me, I was suddenly struck by the rightness of such a choice. That is, it occurred to me in the dream, that the most ideal setting for any creature to die is near the earth with nature surrounding them. In the last segment of the dream, I was proposing to Moo that we establish some variety of fund or fellowship - related in some way to death and nature - which had for It's symbol (and would be given or carried by its members) a small, leafy twig tied with a bit of fabric. And then I woke up.
A series of drawings by Louise Despont - pencil on antique paper
"I think art is one way in which magical symbols and images can be presented to the public in a way that will not appear threatening. We know from the history of art in the past 100 years, that many genuine schools of occultism came forth to present themselves as what I am going to call mystical schools of painting, of sculpture and so forth. I am particularly concerned about one French school", says Bertiaux. "It is the pataphysical school. It was allied to Dada, surrealism, spiritualism and trance medium ship. The whole idea was that we would explore structures of the unconscious and come back renewed with a new kind of imagery and energy we can focus through works of art. The pataphysicians are my favorites, because what they sought to do was to create a kind of alternative science. I remember a pataphysician telling me, that as metaphysics is to physics, so pataphysics is to metaphysics, which meant an intuitive extension into the abstract or the transcendental or the less known aspects of experience."
What were the characteristics of this school, I asked?
"One of the characteristics would be their drawing of inspiration from dream states and a kind of somnambulistic meditation", says Bertiaux. "Another would be the idea that everything has a psychic history. This is related to “the cult of the found object” in modern art, the discovery of “the given.”
We know that there are many artists who will go around looking for what they call “a found
object” – actually they wouldn’t have to look very hard. According to the theory a found object
would “speak” to them and indicate to them that this was what was needed for the artwork of the artist.
The famous American sculptress Louise Nevelson - who worked with large assemblages and collages made from wood and wooden pieces - she had what I call her esoteric school", Bertiaux explains.
"These helpers of Louise Nevelson would get up very early in the morning. She lived in a town house in Manhattan, I believe; and they would go up and down the alleys, looking for discards. They were all kinds of individuals who were perhaps misfits in the outer world, but she believed them to be tremendously psychic. They all worked for her as her technicians, her helpers, in finding objects and wrapping them up in newspapers and paper bags, bringing them home; and then when they had all these treasures before them, they would let the objects tell them where to use them. And this came from a kind of psychic dialogue with the found object – which, I might add, was very similar to what Carl Jung taught many of his patients, to engage in with many natural things in their own experience."
During the latter half of my research of the astrological sign Capricorn (and its constellation Capricornus) I stumbled upon an interesting man, Michael Bertiaux (b. January 18, 1935). According to Wiki, he is best known for his occult classic, "Voudon Gnostic Workbook", described as: "a 615-page compendium... spanning the sub-fields of Voodoo, Neo-Pythagoreanism, Thelema and Gnosticism". I somehow intuited that this man was someone I needed to acquaint myself with... and, when I pursued the .pdf file link provided, I was really amazed...
Capricorn Rising - digital - 2017, 2014, DS
The sketch which originally appeared here has been replaced with the finished version.
(click to enlarge)
"Not a marine mammal, the sea goat, better described as a goat fish, is a mythical creature with the head and upper body of a goat, and the lower body and tail of a fish. The sea goat symbol goes back over 4000 years, when it represented the Sumerian primordial god of waters, Enki. According to legend (similar to the Garden of Eden story of the Bible) at one time "there was not fear, no terror", and men lived in harmony. When mankind was thrust out of this paradise, at a time of crisis, Enki came out of the sea, and gave humanity the skills of civilization; teaching about cultivation, irrigation, (he was the god of sweet spring water as well.) granaries, and medicine. Never a trickster god, he represented balance and responsibility."
- via Astra Chrysalis concerning the astrological symbol of Capricorn
"Capricorn is a sign that represents an Herculean struggle between the forces of light and darkness - on the road to initiation, represented by Mars' exaltation here. Indeed, Mars and the Moon are said to create a 'fearful conflict' at the third initiation, the truly archetypal initiation of Capricorn, the Transfiguration, the ultimate triumph of the mental body over denser matter. Hence the Capricornian initiate is able to move between heaven and hell and 'raise the dead to life', bringing universal brotherhood into expression upon the physical plane."
"The amphibious Sea-Goat dwells at the shoreline ‘twixt matter and spirit, guarding the Gate of the Return of Souls for mankind’s sojourn on Earth.
In ancient Orphic and Platonic doctrine, the Sea-Goat was the Gate of the Gods, wherein the souls of men, when released from corporeality, ascended to heaven through its stars.
Porphyry, in “In the Caves of the Nymphs” (300 BC) stated that souls that descend from the heavens to become incarnate on Earth pass through the celestial gate of Cancer (i.e. the original figure of the Crab, which runs from about 26º Cancer to 21º Leo in tropical degrees), and upon completion of their life cycle they return to the heavens through the gate of Capricornus (now almost completely spanning tropical Aquarius, from about 29º Capricorn to 29º Aquarius)."
I am on a foreign shore. I'm not sure where exactly, but, it's most likely a northern region; possibly the coast of somewhere like Norway. I am alone, as I so frequently am, but from this I have always derived a kind of satisfaction, an uninterrupted, silent engagement with the world surrounding me. Today, it's just me and the sand beneath my feet, and the grey-green ocean waves lapping against the shore. The skies are a murky grey, with that peculiar blue cast to the light that is only evident before a winter storm. The cliffs, both to the side and in front of me are high, but so shrouded in fog that the horizon is a featureless silhouette spread flat in either direction. Which is where I found the first one.
