Friday, March 30, 2012

Shakti: A Painting From 1998



Shakti 1998 oil, acrylic, ink and gold leaf on Masonite 28x34"

This work presents two separate images simultaneously, in layers. One layer is formed in a shallow relief, and one layer is painted. Although the images are two discreet elements, they are intended to be parallel metaphors, both pointing to ideas expressed in the border of the painting, written in Greek and also in Sanskrit. 

The sources of both the image in relief as well as the painted image lie in the work of Gustave Courbet. I borrowed, pretty literally, from two of his paintings. The bas-relief comes from a well known work of Courbet’s called L’Origine du Monde. The source of the painted image comes from a pair of paintings called La Source de la Loue. It was at the headwaters of the river Loue that Courbet painted several works around 1864.

L’Origine du Monde is now on permanent loan to the Musee D’Orsay. It had disappeared for years, but the widow of the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan made it available to the museum. Although the painting may not create as much of a shock today as it did a century ago, it has been consistently regarded since its creation as blatant pornography. The art historian, Linda Nochlin, writing from both a feminist and a Freudian perspective, has discussed L’Origine du Monde at great length. She is regarded as an expert and authority on the work of Courbet, and, beyond a critical-pathological analysis of the painting, she finds little redeeming value in the work (except for its masterful execution). While I don’t intend to debate Professor Nochlin concerning what may be the way the painting has heretofore been regarded, I would like to pose the question,"Why is the painting called The Origin of the World?" Why didn’t Courbet call it Jacqueline’s Twat, or something similar? I know that Courbet was a world-class provocateur. Even so, I believe that Monsieur Courbet was onto something that is not fully comprehended if it is dismissed out of hand as a simple, prurient male fantasy. I believe Courbet was connecting the idea of desire with creation itself, not just in the sense of a kind of mindless human lust, but in a more universal way, implying the same thing that Marcel Duchamp, who was well aware of Courbet, played with all his life…Eros c’est la vie. The whole universe is driven by desire! If one looks carefully at certain Buddhist paintings, say for instance, any rendition of the Wheel of Time, one can see, at the center of the wheel, three animals in a circle: a cock, a pig, and a snake. These represent respectively, lust, greed, and anger. They are, for the Buddhists, the psychic forces that keep the wheel turning. Without saying that Courbet was in any way a Buddhist, I would simply like to suggest that he was aware in his own way of the power of eros, not just in his own personal experience, but in a larger, universal sense. To the ancients, Eros was a god, a force to be reckoned with and honored. Historically, however, Courbet’s treatment of the female body in this painting has been regarded by all, friend and foe alike, as a kind of insult to women, because the figure has not only no arms or legs, but also no face. It is therefore considered as a device that creates an object out of a human being, a woman. But what if Courbet intended to make the work impersonal in order to make it universal? By leaving out a face, the primary reference to the personal, he placed it in the realm of the impersonal, the universal. 

Whether or not I can ever discern Courbet’s intentions regarding this painting, I can say with certainty what my own intentions are. I decided to combine this image of the female genitalia with a painting of a cavernous source of a river because, for me, the metaphorical parallels were too obvious to ignore, and there are too many precedents in art, from the Paleolithic period to the relatively recent, if one simply looks for them.

It has been previously noted in Courbet’s work that, in a Freudian sense, one might analogize the image of female genitals and paintings of caves. It is my opinion, however, that the analogy is not a matter of pathology, but, quite the opposite, simply another example of an ancient notion that the earth itself is female. We not only come out of the earth, but we also return to the earth upon our death. Again, I don’t necessarily suggest that Courbet was making a conscious connection between these images…but I am deliberately taking two of his works and synthesizing a third work as my own. And I am also attempting a sort of tantric transformation of something, previously regarded as profane, back into something sacred.

Just briefly noting some thematic precedents, one might ask, "What was it that prehistoric people were doing in caves where, often, painted images are found? It has been suggested that, as a matter of initiation into adulthood, young people (probably male, although we don’t know) were led deep down into the total darkness of caves and made to find their way out. This was a way of forcing people to face their fears and perhaps also a way of acknowledging a literal "rebirth" from the womb of the earth.

There are countless examples of stone yoni sculptures, found everywhere from Europe to central and south Asia. Often, previous modern European interpreters have read them as obscenities, but here, as is sometimes the case with Freudian theory itself, the pathology lies not with the object, but with the value system of the subject.

Finally, as a way of both graphically and conceptually punctuating my painting, I have chosen to surround the image with text. The Greek is from Plotinus. Some of his ideas to me are both poetic and astonishing. He had an intuitive, mystical grasp of the nature of things, and I see a close affinity between his thought and many ideas found in India. The last two phrases around the painting, in Sanskrit, are from the Upanishads. I do not consider it necessary that anyone be able to read these languages in order to look at my painting. Actually, part of the reason that I included the ideas in their original languages is to suggest that many of us now have not only forgotten these languages, but we have also lost many of the ideas that these languages once expressed.


Sources and References




Gustave Courbet L'Origine du Monde







Gustave Courbet La Source de la Loue








 Translations of Greek and Sanskrit Texts 


“For think of a spring which has no other origin, but gives the whole of itself to rivers, and is not used up by the rivers but remains itself at rest, but the rivers that rise from it, before each of them flows in a different direction, remain for a while all together, though each of them knows, in a way, the direction in which it is going to let its stream flow;”

                  …Plotinus: Ennead III. 8. On Nature and Contemplation


  

     “The goddess of energy, Aditi,
                   Born of the godhead through vitality,
         Mother of all the cosmic forces
                          Who stands in the heart of every creature,
                              Is the Self indeed. For this Self is supreme!”

                      …Katha Upanishad II. 1.7.
  





“Om. That is Full, this is Full, from that Full, this Full emanates. Taking away this Full from that Full, the Full still remains behind, Om. Peace, Peace, Peace.”

                      …Isa Upanishad, introductory chant.



 

 


Thursday, November 25, 2010

Le Dernier Loup




Le Loup  2010  Oil and Acrylic on Wood  78 x 102 cm

There are no wolves around here. The last one was shot dead in 1885. I wonder what his life was like before he was killed. Wolves are social animals and are almost never seen by themselves. How did this wolf hunt? How did he feel when he howled and no one howled back?

Hélas ! ai-je pensé, malgré ce grand nom d’Hommes,
Que j’ai honte de nous, débiles que nous sommes !
Comment on doit quitter la vie et tous ses maux,
C’est vous qui le savez, sublimes animaux !

À voir ce que l’on fut sur terre et ce qu’on laisse,
Seul le silence est grand ; tout le reste est faiblesse.
— Ah ! je t’ai bien compris, sauvage voyageur,
Et ton dernier regard m’est allé jusqu’au cœur.
Il disait : « Si tu peux, fais que ton âme arrive,
À force de rester studieuse et pensive,
Jusqu’à ce haut degré de stoïque fierté
Où, naissant dans les bois, j’ai tout d’abord monté.

Gémir, pleurer prier est également lâche.
Fais énergiquement ta longue et lourde tâche
Dans la voie où le Sort a voulu t’appeler,
Puis, après, comme moi, souffre et meurs sans parler. 

From La Mort du Loup  
   Alfred de Vigny, 1843

Friday, September 24, 2010

Hidden in Plain Sight


The other day I noticed a post on Facebook by a Texas artist whose work I admire calling for a renewal of interest in sacred architecture and the Golden Ratio. It made me happy to see this, since I've been exploring these things too, along with some related ideas, and I have occasionally felt isolated. To have company in this kind of enquiry is most welcome. This artist also mentioned the end of Modernism, referring to Postmodernism as a kind of Mannerism. True enough. 

In today's world many of us are suspicious of the word sacred. Defined in the broadest possible way, sacred might just suggest a way of appreciating a mystery. In and of itself, a mystery is simply something that cannot be adequately explained. The most important questions we can ask ourselves are ultimately mysteries: What are we? Why are we here? 

In order to master our world, we all learn how it works. We learn the mechanics of natural things, and we learn facts. We spend the first twenty years of our lives in an educational system that, ideally, prepares us to be independent, productive people. We measure the amounts of such education in degrees and diplomas. What distinguishes a truly intelligent person is, after having absorbed all those facts and all those answers, he or she continues to ask questions, not always being content with things as they have been explained. And such a person is not actually seeking a final explanation at all, but reveling in the open-ended quality of the particular phenomenon under consideration. This way of observing the world stands outside of religion. Religion has nothing to do with it. Sometimes people call faith a way of relating to mystery, but faith is just the acceptance of somebody else's inadequate explanation in order to become initiated into a group. Religion gets in the way of direct experience. We have mythology, art, literature, drama, dance, music, and other means of expression to more fully participate in the Mystery. Art that attempts to address the idea of mystery must always be open-ended. Indeed, making such art can be like walking on the proverbial razor's edge. 


Tuesday, November 17, 2009




"If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present."

...Ludwig Wittgenstein

My family and I live in a village that was once home to a thriving Roman Catholic community. The church, Saint-Pierre-ès-Liens, (XIII c.), while not a cathedral, is large enough to have accommodated hundreds. Today it stands empty. This situation is typical in France today. Churches have value as historical and architectural artifacts, little more. France is an adamantly secular nation, so much so that one will find, attached above the cross atop any church, the figure of a rooster, le coq, the ancient Gallic symbol now embodying the French Republic. I applaud and support the idea of secularism, and I fully understand the dangers associated with any notion of an official religion. Saint-Pierre, once a center of life and a place where the rituals of life were performed for centuries, is now cold, empty, and dead. Without belaboring the history of abuses committed by the Church and the subsequent response of the Revolution, one can still sense something essential in people's lives has been lost.

Europe and much else of the world lost its faith for reasons too complex to mention in depth here, but part of the loss is due to the fact that the biblical world-view was that of the ancient Near East and, even though it was successfully imported to Europe via the late Roman Empire, science and reason finally rendered it invalid. Christianity, like most other organized religions, became merely an instrument of power.







Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Pour quoi la France?

Moving is always a big decision. Moving to another country is bigger. Moving a family to another country is huge. The process took years. There were positive and negative factors contributing to our decision.  The positive factors were really stronger, even though some of them were somewhat conjectural for us. Our only previous experience had been as visitors. My wife had been to Narbonne as a grad student, studying the cathedral there during a summer. I had been to Paris a few times, and I had also spent some time in Provence. For me as an artist, I was in search of a combination of things: a varied and picturesque landscape, an old culture containing various deep mythologies, and a society that thought more of artists as serious people. For us as a family, it soon became clear that France held out, simply, the possibility of  a better life. 
The landscape has always been part of my concerns as an artist, although generally it served as a vehicle to impart something universal and not local. I found myself using images from books as points of departure, making paintings such as the one on this page, Net, depicting the Lakes of Killarney, but containing ideas from Irish literature and Buddhism. Living in the middle of Houston while mentally living on the other side of the world created a vague sense of longing that took years to act upon. I now live in a landscape that is beautiful, full of history, and charged with mythology that dates to the Bronze Age. The River Seine, which flows no bigger than a trout stream through Mussy, is named after the Celtic goddess Sequanna. 

Monday, November 10, 2008

Another Country


We left Texas for France in October, 2005.  My wife first thought of the idea of moving here around 2002, sending me some images from a French real estate website while I was at my computer. We were both surprised to learn how inexpensive houses were in some parts of this country. If one mentions France, I suppose most Americans think of Paris, and we all know Paris is expensive. Houses in the countryside, however, are not necessarily expensive at all. Of course, some regions are more desirable than others, generally because of the weather and, in the south, proximity to the ocean. The French economy, although still highly agricultural, is now driven by activity in the cities. Many family properties in the countryside have been sold by heirs eager to move to the cities, and the buyers of these rural properties have often been foreigners, mostly English. We are not typical at all, but we were able to accomplish our move with judicious use of the Internet. 
We live in a village called Mussy-sur-Seine. It is in southern Champagne and is 200 kilometers from Paris. We found our house on a website and contacted the agent by phone once we arrived, staying for a few weeks with some very generous friends who made it possible for us to find our bearings in a new country. We have four boys who were ages 10, 7, 5, and 3 when we got here. None spoke a word of French. My wife and I were quite concerned that the boys would have trouble learning the language, and some of our friends back in Houston even thought we were being cruel by placing our kids directly into the public school system here without adequate linguistic preparation. Bilingual education exists in Paris and other large cities, but only in private schools. All our kids are in public schools, studying the national curriculum, and are doing fine. Children are capable of so much if they are given guidance and encouragement, and our boys, although daunted a bit at first, have adapted beautifully.