Shaman

Today was one of those days on which I didn’t get to do any creative work at all, in fact I only visited the studio long enough to turn on the lights and walk out again, but the day has fed my practice by triggering some thinking about authenticity. 

In the morning I attended a lecture by Dr. David Chidester of the University of Cape Town who talked about the dreams and curious adventures of Zulu shamans in South Africa and North America. His book “Authentic Fakes: Religion and American Popular Culture” was released in 2005.

After the lecture and a spot of lunch I was able to chat with Dr. Chidester about authenticity and shamanism. Dr. C. has expanded Mercia Eliade’s observation that shamans were viewed with suspicion by members of their own community – an idea which applies to the expanded global culture of the 21st century by raising the issue of authenticity when considering shamans who are disconnected from their own culture and absorbing and applying the traditions of others.

A shaman in this part of Southern California claims to be Chumash: he’s actually Mexician, but his shamanic practices seem to be effective for his audience, so is he legitimized by his ever-expanding practice?

 

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This got me wondering about my art. I self consciously evoke the mythology of Neolithic Britain and Western culture in my work and hope to enter a dreamlike place and manifest characters from it who can emerge into our world in the paintings. Are my recent paintings “The Aviator’s Dream” and “Fama” an authentic expression of this dream-like landscape?  To some extent they have generated themselves from my subconscious mind as I have made choices that contribute to their composition for a variety of reasons; some practical endeavors have been guided by the composition, some self-consciously mystical decisions, some ideas suggested by subjective connections that I made to material that already existed in the paintings. The landscapes of Death Valley and the Orkney Islands have influenced them, and the flora and fauna of my daily life are creeping into them. To me the paintings are an authentic expression of my imaginative state of mind at this time, expressing something of what Jungians call the collective unconscious, or what theosophists call the akashic record. 

How do they become “authentic”? When they are sold and acquire a market value? When they are exhibited in a museum or gallery, made authentic by the approval of the gallery owner and the public? 

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Storm XIX

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The second photo is by Ethan Pearce   

Continuing my pursuit of those melancholy birds as research for the “Aviator’s Dream” painting, this morning we walked the trusty hound to the park, seeking out ravens as we went. It seems that they enjoy the comfort of their beds on a Sunday morning as much as I do, for we saw none until we turned back to return home, when we spotted several of them, all being chased by a variety of angry smaller birds, presumably because they were raiding their nests for a tasty egg breakfast. My boy caught a few shots of them in flight, and I found a couple more. One of them was really large, possessing a wingspan of at least four feet.

With such dramatic curving wings and character, maybe some of these will end up in “The Aviator’s Dream” piece accompanying raven-winged Daedalus as he watches Icarus fall. I’m interested in the relationship that might develop between Daedalus and the ravens in this and future works. Daedalus clearly has great potential as the archetypal artist, while the ravens have great potential as representatives of the outsider.

It’s been good to look back on the process of making this painting so far, comparing the earlier pictures with the present state. The category links on the right allow you to choose to follow one story. So if you want to follow the progress of Storm (The Aviator’s Dream) click here or simply go to the link in categories on the right, find “storm” and click it. (Scroll down, because the most recent entries come up first) 

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Storm XVIII

I’ve been watching ravens recently. That’s presumably why Daedalus (I might as well name the guy on the left at this point…) has black raven’s wings. They’re fascinating animals that have been present in my life since I was a child at boarding school, where there was a colony of them in the trees next to the big old house we kids lived in. I remember waking hearing them talking in the mornings, a strange sound that we’d hear all day whenever they were alarmed by the traffic of schoolboys as we went to and from class, passing beneath their high homes among the conker trees.

Now they live in the tall trees beside my house on top of the hill. They like to land on the lamp-post on the street, looking out for food, occasionally berating us for our raven-ish crimes as we exit the house. They walk instead of hopping, which makes them seem a little odd; they’re outsiders, like flying coyotes living on the edge of human settlements, never quite comfortable with their relationship to us.

Daedalus lives on the edge of society, uses his skill for some peculiar purposes and is wary of confinement. Icarus goes a step beyond and flies too high, leading to his downfall. 

It’s hard to catch photos of ravens when I’m on the move as much I have been this last few weeks, it takes patience to catch them in motion. I’ll sit and watch them for a while one day just to see what they really get up to. I would like to get some pictures of them flying.

Plans for the painting:

  • Paint a field of flowers.
  • White wings.
  • A spider.
  • Darken the ocean. 

 

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Labyrinth installation III

It was time to put the labyrinth to bed, so we gathered at the creek and walked into the labyrinth. At the centre each of my students chose a rock and carried it out with them through the winding path, giving us a very good sense of completion in a gentle ritual. We carried all the remaining stones to the metal cages for transportation back to Carlson building materials.

 

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Finally we walked the remains of the pathway. Although the stones were gone there was a strong impression of the labyrinth made by the repeated steps of people who had used it, and the impression of the stones on the grass. 

 

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The path has dried out, while the stones protected the grass around them leaving an echo of the pathway.

 

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storm XVII

I couldn’t resist it.

Here’s Daedalus…

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First layer only, I’ll grey the wings back a little so they aren’t quite as dominant. Isn’t he lovely. I think Icarus needs wings too, but his will be white. I tried giving him a black pair but didn’t like the effect. White will emphasize the duality of the two men, too. Father, son, spirit.

 

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I gave my lady a shirt and shorts to wear, so the two figures match. 

 

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I gave her a little toe ring, too. Thanks Kathryn. 

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labyrinth installation II

There’s a really nice shot of some kids running in the labyrinth here in the Thousand Oaks Acorn. Click on the photo for a large image. Thanks to Fred Tonsing for pointing this out to me.

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Storm XVII

A final thought for the day. Wouldn’t it be cool if the man on the left of the “Storm” / “The Aviator’s Dream” painting grew wings and became a contemporary Daedalus accompanying his falling son? The more I read about him the more I like his story.

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Crucifixion

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I pulled out this old friend from the closet where it has been hidden away for six years! It took about two years to get it to this point and I simply couldn’t stand to look at it any more, but knew there was more work to do to complete it. The composition of the painting is arranged so that people looking at it become part of the crowd when it’s hung high enough. This morning I got to see at least some idea of how it will work. Bert Green did show this painting briefly in 2002, in its incomplete state.

The people in the crowd and the victims are all in the painting twice, except for one. Here, some of my students try to figure out which model posed for which pair of figures.

 

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Some details: 

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Right now the canvas is draped onto a large gold leaf panel, but needs to be re-stretched so I can continue working on it and painting it. I couldn’t resist the temptation today and worked on the piece anyway, shaping the moon into a circle and darkening the crucified victims so they drop deeper into the background. They were far too bright before. 

It’s good to revisit this piece after so long. 

 

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Above I’ve posted an image of the piece as I left it on the easel this afternoon and below there’s a shot of what it looked like before. The focus of attention is more on the people now, which is what I want. The painting is really about us in the crowd, how we react.

 

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Storm XVI

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I added some golden highlights to the rocks and to the woman, using titanium white and some transparent iron oxide. I like to scrape the two together with the palette knife, resulting in nice rich blends.

 

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Some more definition to the box, which needs tidying up a little now. 

 

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A touch of titanium white highlights to the sheepskin and a scrape of gold added to the buttons and triangle. 

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Storm XV

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Here’s how the “Storm” painting is related to the labyrinth.

The falling figure doesn’t necessarily need to be a person falling from the world trade center. Other falling figures come to mind, particularly Icarus, who flew too close to the sun on wings his father Daedalus made for him using wax and feathers; the wax melted and Icarus fell. Before making those fateful wings for his boy Daedalus built the labyrinth for Minos, as a consequence of his creation of a bronze cow for Minas’ wife, who needed it to consummate her unhealthy relationship with a bull that resulted in the birth of the minotaur. The labyrinth confined the minotaur who (perhaps understandably) was not thrilled to be half man and half bull. 

Satan falls from heaven in the mythical rebellion of the angels against G-d.

The flight of the shaman to visit the ancestral spirits may also apply to this figure. The great German artist Joseph Beuys is said to have fallen from the sky in his Junkers during World War Two, explaining his artistic and shamanic career with the legendary narrative he constructed to describe his experience.

The falling figure in this piece could represent any of these characters in our collective unconscious. Who is the falling figure to you?

I think that a successful painting makes it possible for individual viewers to interpret the piece to suit their own experiences. I enjoy creating narratives that allow a variety of interpretations, I don’t want to define the images too closely: there is no right answer. That’s the beauty of allegory: it’s infinitely re-definable.

What’s in the box?

The rose. 

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