Thursday, February 4, 2010

Art and spiritual intelligence

Spirituality is the innate human need to connect with something larger than ourselves, something beyond our ego-self or constricted sense of self. It may be defined as having two components: the vertical and the horizontal. The vertical component is something sacred, divine, timeless and placeless a Higher Power, Source, Ultimate Consciousness or any other language the person prefers. Spirituality creates a desire to be connected to and guided by this Source. The horizontal component is being of service to our fellow humans and to the planet at large.

Cathedrals and temples are places where these two components of apiritual connectivity are made available to a thoughtful public.

Danah Zoharhttp://www.dzohar.com/ coined the term'spiritual intelligence' and introduced the idea in her 1997 book ReWiring the Corporate Brain: Using the New Science to Rethink How We Structure and Lead Organizations. Later, together with Ian Marshall she developed the concept, which was introduced in 1999 at The Masters Forum. In the year 2000, Danah Zohar and Ian Marshall published a book, SQ: Ultimate intelligence. In 2004 the authors upgraded the concept with notion of Spiritual Capital and demonstrated the crucial link between SQ, SC, and sustainability. By their definition Spiritual Intelligence is the intelligence with which we access our deepest meanings, purposes, and highest motivations. It is the intelligence that makes us whole, that gives us our integrity. It is the soul's intelligence, the intelligence of the deep self. It is the intelligence with which we ask fundamental questions and with which we reframe our answers.

The word "spiritual" in relation to the intelligence has no necessary connection with organized religion. A person may be high in SQ but have no religious faith or belief of any kind. Conversely a person may be very religious but low in SQ. The word spiritual in the Zohar/Marshal concept comes from the Latin word spiritus, which means, "that which gives life or vitality to a system.
Zohar and Marshall introduced 12 qualities of SQ. They derive these principles from the qualities that define complex adaptive systems. In biology, complex adaptive systems are living systems that create order out of chaos, they create order and information and defy the law of entropy. They enable us to adapt to a changing environment and in this sense they are central to the establishment of a sustainable global culture.

Those principles are:
  • Self-Awareness: Knowing what I believe in and value, and what deeply motivates me;
  • Spontaneity: Living in and being responsive to the moment;
  • Being Vision- and Value-Led: Acting from principles and deep beliefs, and living accordingly;
  • Holism: Seeing larger patterns, relationships, and connections; having a sense of belonging;
  • Compassion: Having the quality of "feeling-with" and deep empathy;
  • Celebration of Diversity: Valuing other people for their differences, not despite them;
  • Field Independence: Standing against the crowd and having one's own convictions;
  • Humility: Having the sense of being a player in a larger drama and of one's true place in the world;
  • Tendency to Ask Fundamental "Why?" Questions: Needing to understand things and get to the bottom of them;
  • Ability to Reframe: Standing back from a situation or problem and seeing the bigger picture; seeing problems in a wider context;
  • Positive Use of Adversity: Learning and growing from mistakes, setbacks, and suffering
    Sense of Vocation: Feeling called upon to serve, to give something back

Zohar and Marshall dealt with questions such as how we have SQ and how it functions in the human brain. Using some of the most recent scientific research available, their work draws on a body of new neurological, psychological and anthropological studies of human intelligence, as well as studies of human thinking and linguistic processes, to provide scientific evidence for SQ. First, they cite research carried out in the 1990s, by neuropsychologist Michael Persinger and neurologist V.S. Ramachandran at the University of California , on the existence of a 'God Spot' in the human brain. This built-in spiritual centre is located among neural connections in the temporal lobes of the brain. These neural areas light up on scans taken with positron emission tomography whenever research subjects are exposed to discussion of spiritual or religious topics, or when talking about what is deeply meaningful to them. Subjects report experiences of profound peace, unity, love and spirituality. Such temporal activity has been linked for years to people who suffer from temporal epilepsy, seizures, or people who take LSD. Ramachadran's work is the first to show it active in normal people.

The 'God Spot' does not prove the existence of God, but it produces spiritual behaviour necessary for people to be nice to each other. In other words, it is the generation of electrical impulses in this region that provides a biochemical basis for spiritual intelligence. It is by means of this region of the brain that we function mentally as animals suspended in webs of significance held by thoughts about the making or contemplation of particular objects. Each object functions as a spiritual anchor or centre of focus for creating personal imaginative universes such as temples and cathedrals. Spaces and vistas are organised by design for the propagation of ideas of morality in the building through allegory. Allegory is a figurative mode of representation conveying a meaning, other than the literal teaching of a lesson, using symbolism. Allegory communicates its message by means of symbolic figures, actions or symbolic representation. An allegory does not have to be expressed in language: it may be addressed to the eye, and is often found in realistic painting, sculpture or some other form of mimetic, or representative art. Simply put, an allegory is a device that can be presented in literary form, such as a poem or novel, or in visual form, such as in painting or sculpture. A practical application of spiritual intelligence within the corporate cathedrals also involved the creation of bishop saints as icons of authority and the provision of guidance towards conduct that will lead us to the good. It also lead to spiritual guidance through church law, the art of the sacraments, pastoral texts and music. From this perspective, the periodic rebuildings, refurbishments, and extensions of cathedrals were motivated by the desire to increase and update the 'theatre of allegory' of the living church. However, we can say that in their everyday lives most people perceive spiritual intelligence through the placement of cultural products or signs within a multiplicity of complex religious, social, ethical, aesthetic and mythological structures.




West Front Wells Cathedral J Crook

Paul Binsky in his book 'Becket's Crown' argues that no commentary on the Living Church can match for spiritual exhilaration the extraordinary, and widely read, sermons on Canticles by St Bernard. A canticle is a hymn taken from the Bible.

"One of these (no. 62) catches the mystical sense of Wells's realization of the Living Church in its medieval West Front as a work of art. In this respect, it serves to demonstrate the astonishing sympathy of Cistercian poetics with Gothic imagery. The sermon in question is on Canticles 2: 14: my dove in the clefts of the rock, in the nooks of the wall (columba mea in foraminibus petrae in caverna maceriae).

The dove is the 'bride', i.e. the Church. Thus the wall, maceria, is not a mass of mere stones but the communion of saints; the nooks or clefts in the wall have been left behind by the fallen angels, and these imperfections are to be filled spiritually by the vivi lapides (the just) of I Peter 2: 4-5; indeed the guardianship of the angels is like the wall in the Lord's vineyard. The Church's desire for union with God is consoled by the memory of the Passion of Christ in the past, and the contemplation of her welcome among the saints.

Through the clefts in the wall flowed Christ's ransoming blood. The Church joyously explores the crannies, the many and varied resting-places and mansions (mansiones multae) which are in her Father's house (John 14: 2), in which God lodges his children according to their just deserts.
The clefts are a sign of the Church's desire for completeness, but they are made too by thought and desire, because the holy heavens, living and rational, will look on mortals lovingly and hear their prayers: everyone may hollow out a place in this heavenly wall.

Now one can see the patriarchs; now the prophets; now one can mingle with the assembly of the apostles, now join the chorus of martyrs. With the quickness of devotion we can run up and down the dwelling-places and ranks of the blessed orders of the angels, as far as the cherubim and seraphim. God takes delight in these nooks, from which ring out the voices of thanksgiving, the voices of wonder and praise.

The hollows in the rock are the means of self-incorporation into God, for while one divine happiness consists in the contemplation of the heavenly city with its multitude of heavenly citizens, the other is concerned with the divinity of God himself, the rock, into which by contemplation worshippers penetrate: the task is difficult, but the rewards sweet.

The sermon uses several familiar ideas: the communion of saints as the living stones of the Church; the act of contemplation, of spiritual penetration and ascent; the Church as the penetrable body of the wounded Christ and so on.

The language of the nooks vacated by the rebel angels which are to be filled by the just elucidates the terms foramen and caverna (foramina being a contemporary term for the holes in shrines by which access was gained to the relics of the saints). It offers a commentary on the spiritual potential of the Wells Front as a cliff face and a punctured and inhabited wall. It is into these foramina that one delves to disclose to oneself their secrets, for they are a means to union with God. Wells's sonic quatrefoils are literally those holes from which ring out the sounds of thanksgiving, wonder and praise.

Contemplation, visualization and interpretation become one, for Bernard's extraordinarily vivid powers of ideation are founded upon an exhilarating scanning process, the dove hovering and swooping across the wall surface to see the company of heaven lodged within it, in a sort of flight of the mind.

The depth and specificity of this Cistercian discourse on the wall and nook should not delude one into supposing that it represents anything like a positive source for the Wells accomplishment. Too little is known about the readership of Bernard's sermons in the West Country or about its Cistercian culture in general. Wells Cathedral, having history but no cult, had no obvious hagiographical context within which such ideas might have been the basis of its design".

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Oneness through contemplating many

Art always and everywhere has been a medium through which people have sought to express their religious beliefs, or a vehicle through which societies have sought to have their religion represented. This has resulted in many styles and raises the question of defining oneness through the contemplating the many particularly as there is general agreement among cognitive scientists that religion is a basic outgrowth of brain architecture that evolved early in human history. Some have suggested that religion is genetically "hardwired" into the human condition and its various revelatory expressions are varied responses to different environmental imperatives. One controversial idea, the God gene hypothesis, states that some human beings bear a gene which gives them a predisposition to creative episodes as religious revelation. Indeed, when we look at the history of religions, we see that they cannot be detached from revelation as an expression of human creativity. However, there is disagreement on the exact mechanisms that drove the evolution of the religious mind. The two main schools of thought hold that religious behaviour evolved due to natural selection and has selective advantage, or that religion is an evolutionary byproduct of other mental adaptations. New religions appear and serve as complements to previous religions. For instance, in the case of Islam, its revelation and source material is found in the Bible. The Christian religion is based in the Jewish Old Testament. Religion evolves with cultural diversity and works through the changing condition of time and nature, as well as through the changes in human knowledge.

Today, cultural diversity is important, not in and of itself, but because it allows us to expand our horizons, to compare and contrast different values, beliefs and lifestyles, and make judgements upon them. Therefore, diversity is important because it allows us to engage in cross cultural dialogue and debate that can help create values and beliefs that are more universal, and generate a much needed collective language of universal citizenship. But it is precisely such dialogue and debate, and the making of such judgements, that contemporary multiculturalism attempts to suppress in the name of 'tolerance' and 'respect'. For example, it has been said that multiculturalism in the United Kingdom is an authoritarian, anti-human outlook. Its effects are political because true political progress requires not recognition but action, not respect but questioning, not the invocation of the 'Thought Police' but the forging of common bonds and collective global struggles against poverty and injustice.

In his book 'Religion, Art, and Visual Culture', Brent Plate presents a view of cross-culturalism through the act of seeing. What we learn is that seeing is a culturally constructed process, and religious icons are one of many contexts that guide how we see and interpret the world around us. We are all exposed through religious art to the power that an object has on a viewer. That power comes from the painter who has been sacralised to paint what he thinks about questions such as How do humans see the cosmos? What does it mean to see "religiously"? How does visual culture affect the way religions are practiced? Consequently, how might an understanding of the role of visual expressions of religiosity affect the way we move towards a collective language of universal citizenship? What do visual arts have to offer in making this synthesis which written scripture cannot? And what does religion tell us about the meanings of visual arts in ways that art history cannot? These question were dominant themes of the art historian Ananda Coomaraswamy, who believed there was an unchanging 'primordial and universal tradition' that was the source from which all religions were born. The geographical source was located in the Middle East and the production of devotional objects was primarily a craft of believers. The images have the dual purpose of reminding believers of their religious narrative and acting as conduits for supernatural power to flow into the material world. In this sense, icons are religious tools, which fits the idea that causal beliefs emerged from the use of every day utilitarian tools. The manufacture of complex tools requires creating a mental image of an object that does not exist naturally before actually making the artifact. Furthermore, one must understand how the tool would be used, which requires an understanding of causality. Accordingly, the level of sophistication of stone tools is a useful indicator of causal beliefs and the selection of mental abilities to make them may have led to the production of religious icons as symbols for veneration. Communing through prayer or gesture with an icon, a person would partake of holiness, of the divine condition.

The use of symbolism in religion is a universal established phenomenon and it is common for religious practices to involve the creation of images and symbols to represent supernatural beings and ideas. Because supernatural beings violate the principles of the natural world, there will always be difficulty in communicating and sharing supernatural concepts with others. This problem can be overcome by anchoring these supernatural beings in material form through representational art. When translated into material form, supernatural concepts become easier to communicate and understand. Due to the association of art and religion, evidence of symbolism in the anthropological record is indicative of a mind capable of religious thoughts. Art linked with symbolism demonstrates a capacity for abstract thought and imagination necessary to construct religious ideas. It was the is translation of the non-visible through symbolism that enabled early human ancestors to hold beliefs in abstract terms.

Some of the earliest evidence of symbolic behavior are associated with Middle Stone Age sites in Africa. From at least 100,000 years ago, there is evidence of the use of pigments such as red ochre. Pigments are of little practical use to hunter gatherers, thus evidence of their use is interpreted as symbolic or for ritual purposes. Among extant hunter gatherer populations around the world, red ochre is still used extensively for ritual purposes. Upper paleolithic cave art provides some of the most unambiguous evidence of religious thought from the paleolithic. For example, cave paintings depict creatures that are half human and half animal, an example of anthropomorphism commonly associated among shamanistic practices.

The Great Goddess of Asia Minor is the oldest true Goddess known to have an iconic image, predating the goddesses of the Sumerian and Egyptians by at least 5,000 years. While there have been Goddess figurines found which date to 30,000 years ago, they come to us without knowledge of their origin or character of the Goddess they represent.


A figurine of the Great Goddess Cybele found at Çatal Hüyük, dating to 8,000 years ago, depicts a mother squatting in the process of giving birth while flanked by two leopards. In later centuries, the leopards would be changed to lions--the metamorphosed Atalanta and Hippomenes, though leopards were considered to be female lions by the ancients. Her worship was originally combined with that of the Bull of Heaven, which is also prominently displayed at Çatal Hüyük. The priestesses of Cybele (Kybele - cave dweller) would, through a transformation by the Greeks, be confused with and eventually known as the Sibyls. The worship of the Sacred Bull throughout the ancient world is most familiar to the Western world in the biblical episode of the idol of the Golden Calf made by Aaron and worshipped by the Hebrews in the wilderness of Sinai (Exodus). Marduk is the "bull of Utu". Shiva's steed is Nandi, the Bull. The sacred bull survives in the constellation Taurus. The bull, whether lunar as in Mesopotamia and Egypt or solar as in India, is the subject of various other cultural and religious incarnations, as well as modern mentions in new age cultures. The Bull and the Mother together have a claim to be the font of what Coomaraswamy called the primordial and universal tradition of expressing the oneness of the divine.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Making a Little Bang: The art of poetic transfiguration

"How, in the contemporary period, can we evoke the imagery that communicates the most profound and most richly developed sense of experiencing life? These images must point past themselves to that ultimate truth which must be told: that life does not have any one absolutely fixed meaning. These images must point past all meanings given, beyond all definitions and relationships, to that really ineffable mystery that is just the existence, the being of ourselves and of our world." If we give that mystery an exact meaning we diminish the experience of its real depth. But when a poet carries the mind into a context of meanings and then pitches it past those, one knows that marvellous rapture that comes from going past all categories of definition. Here we sense the function of metaphor that allows us to make a journey we could not otherwise make, past all categories of definition."

Joseph Campbell, Thou Art That


Collage and collection

The corner of a room or the surface of a canvas is an open space and an invitation to creativity. It's a room to manoeuvre a collection of materials such as the contents of tubes of paint, a piece of stone or scraps of coloured paper. It's a space with situational potential, neither circumscribed by media nor by the display of a particular identity.

Collage is an abstract system of representation and model of illusion with situational potential. The outcome is a complex mental expression of the human propensity to collect things and make pleasing arrangements of them. Making a collage exemplifies the poetic expression of taxophila more clearly than other forms of artistic activity. In particular, it is an incisive way of interfering in reality by wrenching objects out of the context in which they were created and transfiguring the collection in two-dimensions to create a self-referential whole with new meaning. In other words, these images point past themselves to the belief in an ultimate truth. An origin belief, also called a myth, is any story or explanation that describes the beginnings of humanity, earth, life, and the universe (cosmogony). Such beliefs can be derived from many different venues including scientific investigation, metaphysical speculation, or religious belief.

To believe in something is not the same as knowing something. Intrinsic to the concept of belief is an implication that there is an opposite to belief, disbelief. Not everyone will believe something is true, but all sane and rational people will acknowledge an observable fact. It is a common error of human beings to allow belief, to allow a mental construct accepted on faith, to become so important, so obsessive, that it is taken as the same thing as fact. Indeed, there are many emotional reasons why a person might be driven to do this, but it still remains that any belief is purely mental whatever it's origin, and the mind can be mistaken. In order to be able to cope with life, we have to have facts to make decisions on. But mixed into these facts that we learn... and take on faith are real... are also many examples of nonsense and arbitrary belief, promoted as fact, by fanatical individuals. Fanatics are driven to promote their beliefs because of the conflict that occurs for them whenever their beliefs are challenged. To stop the feeling of conflict, the fanatic becomes compelled to convince everyone that their belief is fact, or, failing that, to destroy those who threaten the belief. When there are no facts to support a belief, the belief is provision.

This essay describes the rationale of making collages, which express a European's view of belief in an ultimate truth using Eastern artistic representations of spiritual forms to assemble a poetic mindmap of human relationships with the cosmos. Human figures are taken from Hindu and Buddhist religious contexts and transfigured by combining them with other forms to add a breath of human nature to change meaning. The collages are windows for viewers to reveal new beliefs by opening routes to understanding beyond present meanings.

Cognitive researchers are increasingly turning their attention to understanding how our emotional being has evolved as both a primary and necessary part of our rational being. The importance and significance of the ways in which emotion and reason are both integrated in the aesthetic dimension of the arts may become more relevant to the perennial question, not only of what makes us human, but, being human, of what makes us what we are.

Creating new myths

Another way of looking at ‘the being of ourselves and of our world’ is that each time you desire to travel beyond your present country you must say to yourself. Am I thinking and listening in the right language? Otherwise communication with its inhabitants is hopeless. Similarly, transfiguring images in art is also necessary to behold the least fact or phenomenon within them, however familiar, because as Henry David Thoreau put it; we have only to be

"... a point a hair's breadth aside from our habitual path or routine, to be overcome, enchanted by its beauty and significance . . .”

To perceive freshly, with fresh senses is to be inspired. This is the route to create new myths.

Campbell’s fundamental belief was that all spirituality is a search for the same basic, unknown force from which everything came, within which everything currently exists, and into which everything will return. This elemental force is ultimately “unknowable” because it has existed from a time before human animals evolved with their words and knowledge. So this basic driving force cannot be expressed accurately in words or pictures. It can only be referred to through spiritual rituals and stories which use metaphors couched in the various stories, deities, and objects of spirituality we see in the world. For example, the Genesis myth in the Bible is not a literal description of actual events, but rather a story with a poetic, metaphorical meaning. It should be examined for clues concerning the fundamental truths of the world and our existence. Therefore, poetry, myth and spirituality are all bound up together as transcendent bridges and pathways towards the fundamental truth of how the universe was created. A process of transfiguration is required to make new myths and their icons for bypassing organisational dead ends. Campbell expressed this process as "following your bliss." He derived this idea from the Upanishads of Hinduism to keep to a personal track in order to pitch yourself beyond current mythology.

“Now, I came to this idea of bliss because in Sanskrit, which is the great spiritual language of the world, there are three terms that represent the brink, the jumping-off place to the ocean of transcendence: sat-chit-ananda. The word "Sat" means being. "Chit" means consciousness. "Ananda" means bliss or rapture. I thought, "I don't know whether my consciousness is proper consciousness or not; I don't know whether what I know of my being is my proper being or not; but I do know where my rapture is. So let me hang on to rapture, and that will bring me both my consciousness and my being." I think it worked”.

He saw this idea not merely as a mantra, but as a helpful guide to the individual committed to the ‘hero journey’ that each of us walks through life:

“If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. Wherever you are—if you are following your bliss, you are enjoying that refreshment, that life within you, all the time”.

Campbell was fascinated with what he viewed as basic, universal truths, expressed in different manifestations across different cultures. Accordingly, Campbell believed the religions of the world are various, culturally influenced “masks” of the same fundamental, transcendent truths. All religions, including Christianity and Buddhism, can bring one to an elevated awareness above and beyond a dualistic conception of reality, or idea of “pairs of opposites,” such as being and non-being, or right and wrong. Indeed, he quotes in the preface of The Hero with a Thousand Faces; "Truth is one, the sages speak of it by many names."—which is a translation of the Rig Vedic saying, "Ekam Sat Vipra Bahuda Vadanthi."

In his four-volume series of books The Masks of God, he tried to summarize the main spiritual threads common throughout the world while examining their local manifestations. His idea was that many of the belief systems of the world which expressed these universal truths had a common geographic ancestry, starting off on the fertile grasslands of Europe in the Bronze Age and moving to the Levant and the "Fertile Crescent" of Mesopotamia and back to Europe and the Far East, where it was mixed with the newly emerging Indo-European Aryan culture.

Philosophy of blending

The aesthetic act of pasting objects and papers to a surface has been practiced in various folk arts for centuries, including twelfth-century Japanese text-collages decorated with paper foils, African tribal emblems, fifteenth-century Persian and Turkish cut-paper designs, German weather charms and lace valentine greetings, as well as eighteenth-century butterfly-wing collages. Collage as a fine art medium, however, emerged with the cubist pasting and gluing experiments of Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso in France in 1912. These various activities all involved transcribing and mapping of various objects across mental spaces to make a physical arrangement on a flat surface. This process is covered by blending theory.

In Conceptual Blending theory, one works with mental spaces, which are schematic representations of knowledge and relationships i.e. an organizing frame or mindmap. So, the mental space of driving would contain knowledge about vehicles, their components, the functional relationships between human actions and resultant activity (steering, braking,...). One can take diverse mental spaces dealing with different subjects and "blend" them. For example, in the computer desktop you deal with folders, trash bin, files, and with activities like copy, move...etc. Here the source mental spaces are that of the regular office and the computer display. The blended output is the metaphorical organization of computer data in terms of concepts derived from the office. In general terms, one can incorporate any number of source mental spaces, link their functional counterparts, and derive a target blend. Creativity is said to result, when the blended space contains emergent structure (organization) not present in the source mental spaces. A prosaic spiritual example is the blending of a mass-produced Madonna hanging from the rear view mirror of a taxi with the interior of the mass-produced taxi to transfigure the vehicle’s space into a spiritual microcosm of passenger and driver.

An aesthetic experience has been defined as "the vast, submerged continents of nonconscious thought and feeling that lie at the heart of our ability to make sense of our lives." One problem in applying blending theory to aesthetic experiences is identifying the principles that determine what gets selected for the various mappings across mental spaces to occur. One of the theory’s most significant achievements is the principled way in which it shows how new iconographic meaning can emerge from old information. Iconography refers to an intentional (not arbitrary) relation between the elements of the art medium and the mental images or ideas expressed through them.

In this context of ‘medium’, ‘forms’ and ‘ideas’, Joseph Conrad says: "A poem must not mean / But be." His idea is that:

"...work that aspires, however humbly, to the condition of art should carry its justification in every line. And art itself may be defined as a single-minded attempt to render the highest kind of justice to the visible universe, by bringing to light the manifold truth underlying its every aspect. It is an attempt to find in its forms, in its colours, light, in its shadows, in the aspects of matter and in the facts of life, what of each is fundamental, what is enduring and essential-their one illuminating and convincing quality-the very truth of their existence....My task which I am trying to achieve is power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel-its is, before I make you see. That-and no more, and it is everything".

What makes art special is not the cognitive processes that enable us to understand our world and our lives, but how they are exploited in order to put us in touch with the conditions of our emotional and sensuous experiences as participants in the world we share. No less than studies in the natural and the social sciences, analytical studies in the arts are crucial if we wish to understand and map the human cognition. The development of abstract art played a key role in this.

Abstract art

In the early twentieth century Western artists took the view that naturalism had killed the spiritual both in art and in man. 'We must destroy the soulless, materialistic life of the nineteenth century', said Kandinsky, and 'we must build the life of the soul and the spirit of the twentieth century.' He spoke of the nightmare of materialistic ideas that had degraded life into a monstrous, senseless play. In his book ‘On the Spiritual in Art’ he commented angrily in on contemporary art:

`Rooms hung with canvasses, on which elements of 'nature' all represented with paint: animals in light and shadow, standing near the water or lying in the meadow, beside a Crucifixion of Christ painted by an artist who does not believe in Christ; thorn flower pieces, or human figures, standing, sitting or walking, often nude; lots of nude women, sometimes foreshortened from behind, apples on a silver tray, a portrait of old Mr Such-and-Such, a sunset, flying geese, portrait of Baroness X, flying ducks, a lady in white, cows in the shade with fierce yellow patches of sunlight, a lady in green. . . . '

This is language at the end of an era. His view was that art had become senseless and useless. The great Christian-humanist culture of the time before the Enlightenment had broken down. In the contemporary exhibition which Kandinsky describes we are moving amongst the ruins.

How is he going to achieve a new, spiritual, truly human art:' First of all by making art into art. He said:

'I have heard a well known painter saying “When you are painting, take one look at the canvas, half a look at your palette, and then at the model. It sounded right, but I soon found that I had to proceed quite differently; ten looks at the canvas, one at the palette, half a look at nature.'

The artist must express himself, the times in which he lives, and the 'eternal', what belongs to all times and to all cultures. This, the objective—what I have called the universal- has to be shown by means of the subjective.

`The strife of colours, the sense of the balance we have lost, tottering principles, unexpected assaults, great questions, apparently useless striving, storm and tempest, broken chains, oppositions and contradictions these make up our harmony.'

Soon after Kandinsky wrote these words he turned to abstract painting and said 'Abstract painting sheds the skin of nature, but not its laws, the cosmic laws.'

He was looking for a restoration of art through the abstract placement of line and colour, hoping to regain something that was lost in the nineteenth century, the universal, the deeper structure and law of reality. Art was given a high place in this quest to give form to a new life, a life of the spirit. We know that Kandinsky was highly influenced by the anthroposophy of Rudolf Steiner, a kind of westernised, 'demythologised', eastern way of religious thinking.

Marc, an artist friend of Kandinsky, who started with a kind of impressionistic painting just after the beginning of the century, gradually came to a less naturalistic art in which the general or universal became uppermost over the particular (almost always choosing animals as subject-matter), and ending with an almost abstract art, different and yet akin to that of Kandinsky. He tells us:

`I found man to be ugly animals are much more beautiful . . . but in them too I discovered so much that I felt to be appalling and ugly that my representations of them instinctively, out of inner necessity, became increasingly more schematic, more abstract. Each year trees, flowers, the earth, everything showed me aspects that were more hateful, more repulsive, until I came at last to a full realization of the ugliness, the uncleanness of nature.'

Elsewhere in his letters he says that abstract art meant for him the search to let the world itself speaks rather than our soul being moved by the sight of the world. 'The longing for indivisible Being, for liberation from the sense-deception of our ephemeral life, is the main objective of all art.'

So this generation of artists, at the beginning of the 20th century, was looking for a solution to the problem of regaining truth and reality. They were looking for absolutes, the principles that governed life and art and perception, the deep reality of human life, the truth of things behind their appearance. Art, in conformity with art theory in its long development from the Greeks through the Renaissance and romanticism, still had the task of revealing this 'eternal truth', i.e. that which is more than the eye can see. The work of art has to show deep human values, just as a mediaeval Madonna or, at a later date, a humanistic allegorical painting did. So we can understand Marc when he wrote in a famous article in Der blaue Reiter that the true artists were striving 'to create in their work symbols of their time that will belong on the altars of the coming spiritual religion, behind which the technical aspects will disappear'.

This deep-felt reaction against the materialism of the nineteenth century which dissolved all reality, as it were, leaving man with his perceptions alone, searching for true prehuman absolutes and distrusting (or even disgusted with) reality, led to abstract art, an art that was truly and solely art, and at the same time spiritual, conceptual and 'absolute'.

This commitment to abstraction lead ultimately to the art of Rothko. Rothko's vision of myth as a replenishing resource for an era of spiritual void had been set in motion by his reading of Carl Jung, T. S. Eliot, James Joyce and Thomas Mann, among others. He developed his philosophy of the tragic ideal into the realm of pure abstraction. He thereby opened up the possibility for mankind to transform a Christian cradle of mythic imagery into a new set of images, no longer dependent on tribal, archaic, and religious mythologies.

Poetic universes

Beverley Adams in her introductory essay to the concept of 'a poetic universe' used this notion to describe the activities of art collectors. The essay came from a view of the Diane and Bruce Halle collection of Latin American art that is neither chronological nor thematic. Inventive works by some of the most significant Latin American artists of the 20th century and those showing promise for the 21st century were presented in A Poetic Universe, which opened March 11, 2007 at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Adams as curator of the Halle Collection, organised the exhibition, which featured nearly 60 works from 1945 to 2005 that incorporate such unusual media as cow bladder, ficus root, vinyl mattresses, and sea sponges. She claimed that collectors, like artists, have the potential to propose universes of their own, comprising diverse, often incongruent things. The collection itself becomes a work of art because the assembled objects are artistic arrangements of artefacts, each of which takes on a new poetic meaning in relation to its neighbours. The external logic of applying rigid categories is a personal superimposition.

The artist's microcosm, and the universe of the collector's display, both consist of fragments of other's worlds. The collector's singular obsession is manifested through the assembly of different artists' works; sometimes, as is the case with the Halle Collection, the range of these works extends over an enormous expanse of time and space. The processes of an artist creating microcosms and a curator creating universes have much in common. Both combine the plodding of construction and the possibility of poetry because artefacts and collections both result from design and chance, ambition and accident. They interact with a logic that differs from the one imbued in the individual objects when they were first made. The act of collecting does not override the meanings built into the works. Instead, the new context provides another layer of meaning.

Aesthetic evaluation of ‘little bangs’ enables us to determine the extent to which a given work of art successfully simulates the conditions of being iconic of reality. Aesthetics may thus be understood both in its philosophical sense of exploring the conditions of our sensuous and emotional experience and in its artistic sense of appreciating the nature of art in all its forms.

A major theme of the following set of collages is 'man made into god'. The first pictures took as a starting point the royal paintings of Jodhpur, which were included in the exhibition Garden and Cosmos at the British Museum in 2009. The major theme is the final set of seven paintings in the exhibition by 18th century court painter Bulaki. They depict a process of intense meditation whereby priests, described as mahasiddhas of the Nath sect, hover above a wavy field of colour representing the cosmic ocean, and pass through a series of sages to become gods.

From the contemporary point of view, Hindu temples act as a safe haven where ordinary mortals can feel themselves free from the constant vagaries of everyday existence by dissolving the boundaries between man and divinity. This is achieved by contemplating on a personal conception of the deity based on an individual cultural rooting. We have lost the divine who resided amongst us (Krta Yuga), which is the same as saying that once man was divine himself. Man lost the divinity within himself. His intuition, which is nothing but a state of primordial alertness, continues to strive towards the archetypal perfect state where there is no distinction between man and god (or woman and goddess). In this context it is interesting to observe that the word ‘temple,’ and ‘contemplate’ both share the same origin from the Roman word ‘templum,’ which means a sacred enclosure. Indeed, strictly speaking, where there is no contemplation, there is no temple. The Hindu Temple sets out to resolve this deficiency by putting into practice the belief that the temple, the human body, and the primeval sacred mountain and cave, represent aspects of the same divine cosmic symmetry.

The three ways of obtaining release from an earthly life to become divine are the yoga of knowledge, the yoga of action and the yoga of devotion.

The yoga of knowledge involves intellectual and psychological techniques developed by Hindu holy men to control their actions and analyse their unconscious. They remove the obstructions to recovering the nature of their true selves. The true self is shown to be nothing other than Brahman, or God. The goal of all knowledge, therefore, is the experience of union with the divine.

The yoga of action requires that duty be done with no thought for oneself or for the benefit or suffering that one experiences in fulfilling it. Through the performance of one's duty as a dedication to the supreme god, a kind of inner purification takes place, resulting in divine union.

The yoga of devotion, the most common path, requires that prayers, the chanting of scripture and meditation on the image of god be undertaken with such intensity that inner obstructions are burned up and god is revealed within consciousness. All that is required is willingness to surrender oneself completely in devotion to god.

Regardless of which path is followed, the end is the same: the discovery of the true nature within oneself of a spiritual soul (atman) which is at one with god.

Another series of man-god collages focuses on depictions of the Buddha. For the first 600 or so years after his death, the Buddha and his teachings were represented in art by symbols such as the wheel, footprints, or empty thrones.

Human representations of the Buddha started to emerge from the 1st century AD in northern India. These depict the Buddha wearing monk's robes and a serene facial expression. He is shown standing or seated in a lotus position, and he often cradles a begging bowl or makes the gesture of fearlessness. For Buddhists, the correct depiction of the Buddha is important because they believe that a properly rendered Buddha image is an actual spiritual emanation, which possesses supernatural qualities. Although the Buddha is not a god, Buddhists seek to communicate with the supernatural world through Buddha images, making offerings to them and praying before them. Western Catholic art of the saints serves the same purpose

The two main centres of Buddha creation have been identified as Gandhara in today's Punjab, in Pakistan, and the region of Mathura, in central northern India. One Buddhist statue from Mathura has been dated to 81 AD. A sculptured head of a Buddha from Afghanistan has been dated to the 1st or 2nd century.

Gandharan Buddhist sculpture displays Greek artistic influence, and it has been suggested that the concept of the "man-god" was essentially inspired by Greek mythological culture. Artistically, the Gandharan School of sculpture is said to have contributed wavy hair, drapery covering shoulders, shoes and sandals, acanthus leaf decorations, etc. This iconic art was characterized from the start by a realistic idealism, combining realistic human features, proportions, attitudes and attributes, together with a sense of perfection and serenity reaching to the divine. This expression of the Buddha as a both a man and a god became the iconographic canon for subsequent Buddhist art.

Buddhist art continued to develop in India for a few more centuries. The pink sandstone sculptures of Mathura evolved during the Gupta period (4th to 6th century) to reach a very high fineness of execution and delicacy in the modelling. The art of the Gupta School was extremely influential almost everywhere in the rest of Asia. By the 10th century, creativity in Buddhist art was dying out in India, as Hinduism and Islam ultimately prevailed, but it went on to be developed in new and unique ways in China, Japan, Thailand, and other South and East Asian countries. Did a changing cultural context change the representation of Buddha? In the case of Christian mythology, we can ascribe the transformation of pictures of Mary the mother of god over many centuries to profound changes in Western culture. Madonna and Child depictions all stand for something supernatural, something above and beyond ordinary experience. In the thirteenth century they are posters telling people to go to Mary with their troubles. One can follow almost all the different stages in Mariology just by looking at the historical sequence of these paintings.

For instance, in the fourteenth century one sees a new type emerge, the Madonna of Humility, where we see the Madonna sitting on a cushion on the ground, often offering her breast to the child. This is a marked change from the Madonna as Queen that we see in the earlier periods, and specifically in Romanesque times. Later, after the fourteenth century, the portrayal becomes more natural, with more attention to details like the hair, the chair, and the background that often becomes a landscape. And in the Baroque period she sits on clouds, high above us mortals, often accompanied by adoring saints. They are setting us an example, the painting tells us. So the important thing is that it is precisely the artistic qualities of the composition that pass on the message not just what we know or think about the Madonna ourselves. This is true for other Christian themes, such as a Crucifixion, an Adoration of the Magi, or a Resurrection. Always the artist was not concerned with historical events as such and not with archaeological accuracy, but with dogma, with a credal statement in a well-defined, traditional, compositional scheme. The styles might change as an outcome of the relentless effort of Western artists to depict material reality but the basic ideas remain.

The process of transfiguring the Eastern man-god iconography to make the following collages is something like learning another language so you can listen intelligibly. This is because the original depiction sometimes locks up truths, which were once well, known, but have been forgotten. In other cases the story from which the original was taken holds the germs of truth which, though they were never plainly discerned, the genius of its framers caught a glimpse of it in a happy moment of divination. Kandinsky's take on this is:

"In practical life... one will hardly find a person who, if he wants to travel to Berlin, gets off the train in Regensburg! In spiritual life, getting off the train in Regensburg is a rather usual thing. Sometimes even the engineer does not want to go any further, and all of the passengers get off in Regensburg. How many, who sought God, finally remained standing before a carved figure! How many, who sought art, became caught on a form which an artist had used for his own purposes, be it Giotto, Raphael, Durer, or Van Gogh!"

The man-god collages are poetic transfigurations. They meet the modern criteria for a poem to be an autonomous object that may or may not represent the real world but is created in language made distinctive by its complex web of references. Postmodernists look on poems as collages of current idioms that are intriguing but self-contained — they employ, challenge and/or mock preconceptions, but refer to nothing beyond themselves. Any poetic universe, such as a picture collection or collage, has its own alphabet, its own geography, its stars and coordinates. A collection is a personal cosmos that might make sense or be whole only to the individual who built it, but is, in truth, never quite complete. From this point of view an artistic composition of materials and objects collected and pasted upon a surface, often with unifying lines and colour, may be described as a poetic microcosm, which gains significance when added to a collector’s universe. It is an assembly, composed of both borrowed and original material. The art of creating such microcosms produces works of art made from pieces of other things and arranged into a new whole. Constructing a poetic microcosm of things in the picture plane is a view of a collection of objects that are neither chronological nor thematic. The assembly of things to be attached to a canvas focuses instead on provisional and improvisational relationships that appear as the collection grows to a point where the artist feels the picture is complete. The affinities between a collage's visual, conceptual, ideological, and historical aspects, or those that are forced by proximity, provoke an ever-expanding web of associations. An exhibition of art may be visualised as a personal universe. It is a 'big bang' composed of numerous 'little bangs' of individual artistic creativity, each of which may be taken as an altarpiece for spiritual journeys we would otherwise not undertake.














































































Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Creativity: an artist's journey

I see the world in a visual way. Through art and my pursuit of aesthetic contemplation I look at the world around me in a very different way to other people. As an artist, you find your own specific way of interpreting beauty. As a child I was fascinated by the world of fashion photography and poured over my collection of Vogue magazines from an early age. I spent many happy hours creating fashion images and putting them in scrapbooks – my early passion for collation and organisation. And probably one of the greatest influences was my uncle, Frederick Salter, a renowned Welsh artist, who inspired, nurtured and most importantly, spent patient hours painting with me as a child. Now I find myself inspired by the place in which I live (we have moved many times around the world), vistas of landscape and the history of artists who came before.

After a very uneventful A’level in art, which offered no interesting surprises or particular talents I opted for a career in fashion styling (motivated by my childhood passion), which led me behind the camera of many great photographers and there I was able to unleash my creativity. The procedure I adopted was after having an idea for a fashion shoot, I then went ahead and produced the pages of the magazine, working closely with the creative team. But I was always the most excited at the other end of the photographic process – editing, cropping and selection of the final prints.

When I moved to the USA with our first child, Jack, I was no longer able to work and felt I needed to fill the creative gap left by my leaving the magazine world. At a more mature age I was ready to go back to art and painting. In Wilmington, Delaware, I took up drawing classes at the art museum, followed by painting classes…….and the rest is history. I haven’t stopped painting in 15 years (I will always remember when it happened because the reminder is whatever the age Jack is!) and my work has evolved over the years.

I started the painting process with still-life. Arranging coloured bottles one in front of another I juxtaposed these bright glass vessels and began to work on personal compositional preferences. Colour moved into my work almost straight away – almost too vivid to begin with. Even the landscapes that followed echoed the bright palettes I had admired in those amazing American art museums of works by Matisse, Bonnard and Van Gogh. At the time – they were the limit of my knowledge of art history.



Another move, this time to Suffolk, in England, tamed my palette and got me interested in these wide landscapes consisting of stratas of sky and land along a flat coast. It was here that I learnt the technique of dragging the brush across the canvas and leaving dry-brush marks that revealed the colours painted underneath. Peter Burman, a local landscape artist, was my teacher and in his classes we always produced an alla prima painting within a few hours – spontaneous and fresh without too much time to dwell on perfection. I think this type of process enabled me to approach a painting without too much fear or trepidation.



After a further two children we found ourselves living in Northumberland and it is here that I enrolled on a fine art degree affiliated with Sunderland University. Having continued to paint the wonderful northern hilly landscape of Hadrian’s wall country with its wide vistas and big skies, I began to experiment with the traditional landscape composition using my newly acquired skills on the computer and butting up one landscape against another. The landscapes evolved into stratas – layers of land and sky. My canvases got bigger and the techniques I was using were achieved by using larger scrapers, trowels and spatulas. By experimenting on paper first I could see what effects could be achieved, often using acrylic first and then covering with a wash of oil paint bathed in turpentine to even out the colour tones.



By this time I was looking at Gerhard Richter, Richard Diebenkorn, Peter Lanyon, Ivon Hitchens with my tutor and mentor at Newcastle College, Tom Moore.

And it was Tom Moore who encouraged a series of paintings of city landscapes of Newcastle where I concentrated on urban redevelopment turning scaffolded buildings into art. Using masking tape and acrylic paint I carefully achieved the symmetry of the buildings on wooden panels and explored the use of dry brush techniques which has inspired me for future city scape paintings including my Ponte Vecchio and San Gimignano works in Florence.





A project entitled ‘Chance and Order’ was set for the degree course and it was then that the Plasma Series emerged. By this time my knowledge of art history had greatly increased and I was spending any free time going to contemporary local exhibitions and any time we had a holiday abroad. My points of reference enhanced my painting vocabulary. Francis Bacon was one of my inspirations for the Chance and Order series. I loved the way he sent busy, amorphic figures against smooth, evenly painted backdrops – and his use of colour, in my mind, was both original and surprising.



Working with a friend in his studio in Northumberland, I chanced upon the garage next door where they were spraying the underside of cars with a pebbly black paint. I stencilled this spray paint on a canvas and then starting experimenting with enamel paint, pouring the paint on the surface and then letting it drip from one side to the other in an almost gridlike pattern. This was the start of my process-led work and has been a genre of working for me now for many years. Eventually I managed to develop a technique to isolate the enamel paints in the centre of the canvas (after Bacon) and marbled the colours together until an amorphic shape appeared that pleased me. This physical action of manipulating the canvas to create a form that pleased me was both random and controlled.



Another move, this time to Florence in Italy, led me to fully express all the influences that have been gathering over the years and has really been the icing on the cake. How could you not be inspired by the crumbling palazzo walls, the Renaissance paintings with their rich oil colours and use of gold leaf and the countryside and climate of the Tuscan region. The strata landscapes are still there but they have evolved. More use of gold leaf in the plasmas and landscapes and a series of collaged Madonnas using Florentine wrapping paper. My most recent work, inspired by a brief visit to the Natural History Museum in New York, involves recycling and cutting up old work into pebble shapes and presenting on evenly painted boards and cemented with resin. This work also has a reference to the wonderful marbling and pietra dure of Italy. My Florence. My view. My history.





I am now able to see a pattern in my creative life where I jump from realism to abstract landscapes to photography to collage and then the whole circle starts again. It keeps me creative and I so enjoy the inter-relation between the different media. They inspire and feed of each other as if there is a parasitic feeding going on where one image emerges and evolves from another.

Susi Bellamy

See a selection of Susi's pictures in chronological order.

Monday, August 17, 2009

An essence of Indian art



It is well known that sharing impressions of a work of art with friends will reveal that each of them had perceived an entirely different "story" from the experience. Inevitably, this will lead to a discussion of what the artist really had in mind when she responded to the creative impulse. It will also raise questions as to whether or not a codification system could be discerned. Codification is very obvious in Indian temple arts as instruments of worship, where devotional sculptures for example offer a powerful religious experience through their aesthetic and symbolic authority. The codification of art-making is reflected in medieval artists' manuals (sastras), which dictated both the form as well as the emotional authority and aesthetic experience (rasa) of a work of art. These manuals are responsible for maintaining over the centuries the principal iconographic forms in the three traditional religions of the Indian subcontinent, Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism. The response to the created forms is explained through rasa, the "organ of intuitive feeling/ perception". Rasa is an aesthetic pleasure and a "gustative process", both the substance, vibration or quality of what is apprehended/felt and the body/mind system that apprehends.

Historically, the adherents of rasa theory believed rasa, to be the meaning of a creative statement, even though they may have had different ideas about the definition of art. Rasa is roughly translated: "as emotive aesthetics". It is one of the most important concepts in classical Indian aesthetics, having pervasive influence in theories of painting, sculpture, dance, poetry, and drama. Rasa theory argues that the presentation of emotions is the proper object and domain of artistic discourse no matter what the medium of expression. Bharata, an Indian sage from the first millennium set out a theory of art and its philosophy based on rasa. In 'Natyashastra', his pioneering work on Indian dramatics, Bharata mentions eight rasas. He says Rasa is produced when 'Vibhaava', 'Anubhava' and 'Vyabhichari bhava' come together.

Vibhava is the medium through which an emotion arises in an actor e.g. a child riding a stick and enjoying it as if he were actually riding a horse.

Anubhava comprises all the physical changes arising due to the vibhavas e.g. changes in facial expression and body language.

Vyahicari bhava encompasses the transient emotions eg.weeping with joy.

We respond to all the arts with feeling. The language of feelings is not a private language; it is more a social system of symbols, a language game that is understood by those who have learned its conventions and usages. For example, emotions treated in a poem are neither the projections of the reader's own mental states nor the private feelings of the poet; rather, they are the objective situations abiding in the poem as its cognitive content ready to be extracted by the educated reader. Rasa is understood as residing in all the situational factors presented in an appropriate language.

A poet chooses to express a theme because he sees a certain promise for developing its emotional possibilities and exploits it by dramatizing its details.

In general, viewers ignoring the codification system of a work of art have the impression that because they cannot grasp the explicit meaning of the piece they are certainly missing its aesthetic content. In fact, both contemporary and traditional arts become coldly "exotic" when they rely too much on explicit meanings.

According to Indian theorists of performing arts, expression may be literal, metaphoric or metonymic and suggestive, the latter being the domain of "pure poetry". A theory of suggestive expression was elaborated in the context of Kashmiri shaivism, a complex philosophical system at the confluence of several religious trends, among which are tantrism and sufism. The theory was initiated by art philosopher Anandavardhana during the 9th century and fully developed by Abhinavagupta in the early 11th century.

Anandavardhana's premise states that artistic production is primarily a recombination of existing elements. However, novelty is not so much a matter of finding new primitive objects or combinations. Even the same performance watched several times may be perceived as "new" if certain conditions are met. A necessary condition for experiencing rasa is a sufficient degree of imprecision, an incompleteness of the codification triggering the imagination (kalpana) of each auditor, thereby yielding a "second creation" (bhavana) within the field of the "unspoken". Anandavardhana makes it clear that this process is not the outcome of a semantic operation.

This ancient Indian theorising on aesthetics is centred on the psyche of individual artists as a counterbalance to the categories of caste from which they come. The latter deny the existence of anything like humanity. But art is produced by individuals who share certain traits in common although belonging to different castes. They are individuals defined arbitrarily by emotions such as Shringara (erotic), Hasya (comic), Karuna (pathetic), Raudra (furious), Vira (heroic), Bhayanak (terrible), Bhibhatsa (odious) and Adbhuta (marvellous). These are spelt out by Bharata in his Natyashastra as they refer to performance art.

Clearly, such a scheme required elucidation. And that came with later theorists, such as Anandavardhana in the 9th century, who stressed the vibrations of a work (dhwani) as the basis of its aesthetic appreciation. The word 'dhwani" literally means "suggestion in an aesthetic sense' and was developed into an elaborate theory by Anandavardhana. Dhwani thus became the celebrated classical focus of Indian literary criticism, dealing with the aesthetic significance of words and their subtle undertones. Later, the 11th-century writer Abhinavagupta related dhwani to the activation of remainders of past experience called karma. Karma itself is the accumulation of "life roots" (vasana), a profound dissatisfaction linked to every action in itself. This quality of vibration in art brings us closer to penetrating the objective nature of the aesthetic qualities of an artwork, on the one hand, and of the changing impact of its rhythms over time on the other. It is precisely these vibrations, our assessment of them and the manner in which they are produced that basically reflect not only our individual aesthetic appreciation and taste, but also its evolution over time and space. Anandavardhana's theory ought to have replaced Bharata completely but the reverential nature of thought in a stagnant Hindu society has simply superimposed the one on the other.

A good model for analysing the impact of an Indian dhwani experience in a contemporary Western setting are the pictures in a recent British Museum exhibition (Garden & Cosmos, 2009) from the court of the Maharajah of Jodhpur. A highlight of dhwani at the end of the exhibition was a set of seven one metre long painted folios representing 'cosmic oceans' composed in a narrow landscape format. The paintings are attributed to the Muslim court painter Bulaki and dated to 1823. They display a novel arrangement of ancient iconography, part of a project in which, from the 1750s, the Maharajha's painters set out to convey the cosmology written in manuscripts by Nath scholars that had never been previously illustrated.

The basis of Nath religion is various systems of tantric yoga, which are aimed at the transubstantiation of the human body into a divine immortal form. The word Nath is derived from the name of god Shiva and its literal meaning is 'lord'. The folios depict vast swirling waters upon which are floating three Nath adepts (mahasiddhas) who have reached the highest level of meditative attainment with one hand raised in the gesture of explication. Their repetitive god-like iconography consists of jewelled kundal earrings, triangular black hat, golden halo, and orange patterned robe. They are arranged in a 'hidden' inverted triangle that signifies the female principle in yantra diagrams. They gaze into this triangle

The adept to the left always sits on the shoulders of a strange green, scaly-skinned figure riding a black antelope. Animals, symbolizing or complementing the energy or character of deity, came to be integral to Indian iconography and were always depicted with the deity. In this context, Vayo, the wind god, sits astride an antelope. In Vedic times Vayo formed the Hindu triad of nature gods together with Agni (fire) and Surya (sun). In later Hindu times he was degraded to become an atmospheric god restricted to the north-west quarter of the compass. He is the King of the Gandharvas, spirits who inhabit Indra's heaven and sing and dance there to entertain the Gods. One of Vayu's many exploits include breaking off the head of Mount Meru, a mythical mountain, and creating the Island of Lanka, now Sri Lanka.

On five of the picture folios, beneath the lower central mahasiddha, are the symbols "om," fish, snake, swan, and tortoise. "om" is the ultimate sacred syllable; the mahasiddha Matsyendranath was born as a fish; the snake stands for the latent female energy (Kundalini Shakti) which the mahasiddha must awaken to achieve omniscience; the swan (hamsa) represents release from samsara (the cycle of rebirth) and is the vehicle of the goddess Saraswati; and the tortoise is the support of the earth. The triad of figures may represent the spiritual development of a mahasiddha from priest to god.

The Baluki folios, in which the figures occupy only about a quarter of the picture area, have a striking modern look and without a storyline they also have an air or mystery, which the large expanse of a turbulent calligraphic cosmic ocean and the slight variations between the figures and their symbolic labels tend to reinforce. However, despite this diverse iconography, in the absence of the reference text the overall compositional code cannot be revealed. It has been suggested that artists may have listened to Nath stories to produce the folios that were subsequently sequenced as manuscripts. In which case it is unlikely that the literary context will ever be known. Without a script we are left with Picasso's claim that a painting is never done, and we find here, too, the deep roots of our own peculiarly modern and pervasive sense of the mystery of art, the sense that it ever eludes us, and that our own obsessive detective investigations of it will remain incomplete, they will never be finished.

As a postscript it must be added that dhwani is too important as a social idea to be confined to the art world. For example, we cannot perceive the full significance of the Anglo Indian art historian and critic Ananda Coomaraswamy's philosophy of Indian nationalism without perceiving the aesthetic impact of the theory of "dhwani" on the cohesive role of Indian art. Coomaraswamy reflected on the significance of art motifs and their symbolic meanings which emanated from India's cultural craft base. In this respect it has been said that Coomaraswamy's approach to nationalism combined the patriotic spirit of Mazzini, the intellectual freedom of Emerson, and the aesthetic insight of Anandavardhana.

http://www.indiavideo.org/text/bharata-muni-1073.php

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11924/11924-h/11924-h.htm#THE_PLATES

http://livingheritage.org/akc_quotes.htm

http://www.tamilnation.org/hundredtamils/coomaraswamy.htm

http://www.1911encyclopedia.org/Mysticism

Monday, August 10, 2009

Inventing a symbolic language

The cultural model of Indian temple sculpture made a remarkable entry into an innovative line of English art through the London meeting between Eric Gill and Ananda Commaraswamy in 1908. Gill, an engraver and self-taught sculptor, quickly assimilated the two cultural characteristics of Indian sculpture, namely its convexity and linearity. Using for the most part female members of his family circle as nude models, this Indian influence resulted, on the one hand, in the proliferation of black and white line engravings, and on the other sculptured forms expressed as convexities.




Gill marked out his stone reliefs before carving with outlines that indicated the depth to which each part should be cut, by half an inch, an inch, and so on. Then he cut backwards from the front skin of the stone, removing material layer by layer, by following the outlines drawn on the stone. It was a methodical and logical procedure which produced direct yet rather heraldic images. David Kindersley, an apprentice letter-cutter who joined Gill's workshop in the mid1930s, recalled how Gill worked with sureness and clarity:

"His attention was remarkable in degree and duration . . . No tool was ever forced beyond its capacity. All stages were in process at once over various parts of the carving, the projections always being a stage ahead so that, for all the world, it appeared a simple question of removing a series of skins of differently textured stone. Strength and firmness of form were assured not only by the clarity of his vision but in no small degree through his technique. All form for Mr Gill was of a convex order. Concavities were the result of the meeting of two convexities."

Through his eager assimilation of the essence of Indian temple art, Gill was able to unite his innate aptitudes for the crafts of engraving and sculpture, in one seamless process of creativity. His engravings are flattened sculpture and his sculptures are puffed up line-engravings.

Eric Gill occupies a unique place in British sculptural life of the twentieth century. He was born on 22 February 1882 in Brighton, the eldest son of twelve children of Arthur Tidman and Rose Gill. Eric Gill described his father as 'an Anglican parson, formerly a Dissenter', and his grandfather and great-uncle were Congregationalist missionaries in the South Sea Islands. The strong sense of vocation displayed by these three close male relatives was inherited by Gill, who appeared to feel from early manhood that he had a divinely appointed task to do. This task was to communicate his vision of art as a vehicle for the splendours of spiritual life. And in order to do this, Gill began to produce figurative sculpture that was uncompromising in its sacred message.

Gill came to believe passionately that things had gone wrong with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, and the introduction of inhuman machine production of buildings, clothing, furniture, food and utensils. In the centuries prior to the Industrial Revolution, there was no special thing called art. Art was making in general and anyone who made anything would, if the word had existed, have been called an artist. Art was simply the ways of men with things; it was human work . In this sense, Gill was already pre-adapted to take up the cultural inheritance of Indian art, which for the most part is the product of anonymous sculptors and painters.

An entry in Gill's diary for 10 January 1908 records that he attended a lecture at the Art Workers' Guild, London, given by Dr Ananda Coomaraswamy on Indian Art. Gill added the accompanying phrase 'a most splendid paper'. This appears to be the first time that Gill became aware of Coomaraswamy, and it seems he was immediately impressed by the man and his knowledge. At the end of his life, Gill wrote in his Autobiography:

"There was one person . . . to whose influence I am deeply grateful; I mean the philosopher and theologian, Ananda Coomaraswamy. Others have written the truth about life and religion and man's work . . . Others have understood the true significance of erotic drawings and sculptures. Others have seen the relationships of the true and the good and the beautiful. Others have had apparently unlimited learning. Others have loved; others have been kind and generous. But I know of no one else in whom all these gifts and all these powers have been combined. I dare not confess myself his disciple; that would only embarrass him. I can only say that I believe that no other living writer has written the truth in matters of art and life and religion and piety with such wisdom and understanding."

Coomaraswamy was born in 1877 in Sri Lanka of a Tamil father and an English mother. He studied botany and geology at London University. The Home Office in London appointed Coomaraswamy Director of the first mineralogical survey of Ceylon from 1903 to 1906, and after completing this work, he travelled for the first time to India at the end of 1906. His time in Srilanka and India stimulated an abiding interest in the arts and crafts of those countries and their spiritual basis. In 1907 Coomaraswamy moved into a medieval building, the Norman Chapel at Broad Campden, restored for him by C. R. Ashbee who lived and worked a couple of miles away, at Chipping Campden. Ashbee had formed his Guild of Handicraft, a group of workers occupied in the arts and crafts, in the East End of London in 1888. In 1902 he took his ideas and his workers to Chipping Campden, an attractive and neglected Gloucestershire village, in order to test his theory that a rural life was better for the production of art and craft work than an urban one. Ashbee looked at the position of the worker and his occupation in the arts and crafts world, such as silversmithing or printing, in terms of the social well-being of the individual and of society as a whole. Coomaraswamy allied himself to Ashbee's ideas and ideals, but substituted the spiritual for the social. Coomaraswamy purchased William Morris's press and used it to publish in 1908 the first book on the arts of his native Srilanka, 'Medieval Sinhalese Art'. This was followed by The Indian Craftsman in 1909, Indian Drawings in 1910, and several articles in the Burlington Magazine between 1910and 1916 on Indian art, later published in book form as 'Rajput Painting and The Dance of Shiva', the latter reviewed by Gill. In 1917

Coomaraswamy left Britain to take up a post as Keeper of the Indian Collections at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, a position he held until his death in 1947.

Coomaraswamy was important for Gill for two reasons: firstly because he examined the relationship between man's work and his leisure, and secondly because he examined the relationship between the sacred and the profane. Also he provided Gill with a phrase that virtually became Gill's motto, and is thought by many to have stemmed from Gill himself, so perfectly does it chime with his aesthetic -

'The artist is not a special kind of man, but every man is a special kind of artist'.

Gill was able to test his own Christian-based ideas against those of a Hindu, and thus gain a broader spiritual base, although many ideas were held in common. Coomaraswamy was looking for a new metaphysical system for man's work and life at just the same time that Gill was, but Coomaraswamy's aesthetic parameters were much wider. He offered a deep and first-hand knowledge of Indian and Srilankan arts and crafts to a British audience anxious to learn more. And Gill was in the forefront of those thirsty for this knowledge. An appreciation in Britain of Indian arts and crafts had first emerged in the late 1870s, spearheaded by the artists William Morris, Edward Burne Jones, John Everett Millais and Walter Crane. These men were only too aware of how the arts and crafts in Britain were being attacked by increasing industrialisation and they wished to focus attention on the same position occurring in India. From 1908 Coomaraswamy took up this cause with passion. Then in the Spring of 1910 the India Society was founded, with its headquarters in London. Among the founding members were Coomaraswamy, Walter Crane, W. R. Lethaby, Roger Fry and William Rothenstein, all of whom were colleagues of Gill and significant supporters of his emergent sculptural practice.

In 1908 Coomaraswamy published The Aims of Indian Art and in this book cited William Blake as a most significant example of a Western artist who worked in an imaginative rather than a naturalistic manner. This way of thinking and working allied Blake to the aesthetics of Oriental artists. Blake was for Coomaraswamy a great and original spiritual thinker and artist and assumed for him the role of a bridge between Eastern and Western art. It is not inconceivable to imagine that Gill wanted to inherit Blake's role. In 1910 Gill designed a tombstone based on one of Blake's illustrations to Robert Blair's poem 'The Grave', the dramatic composition of 'The Reunion of the Soul and the Body'. And in 1917 Gill based his wood engraving of The Last Judgement on Blake's colour print of God Judging Adam. Gill, like Blake, believed in social and spiritual reform, and sexual freedom. They both abhorred the negative power of industrial mechanisation. It has been said that Coomaraswamys complex erotic life was a feature of his personal philosophy.

Gill's belief that the ascetic and the sensual could be amalgamated stemmed from his burgeoning knowledge of Indian art and Hindu theology. In 1913 Coomaraswamy published his 'The Arts and Crafts of India and Ceylon' and a section of his chapter on Indian sculpture provides a most useful gloss on these two beliefs. Coomaraswamy had been describing how sculptures of spiritual figures were made more impressive if they were created in a voluptuous style:

". . . in the best of Gothic art there are traces of a conflict, a duality of soul and body. If in many works of ancient Greece there is no such conflict, this is because the body alone is presented: but in the best of the Indian sculpture flesh and spirit are inseparable . . .

In nearly all Indian art there runs a vein of deep sex-mysticism. Not merely are female forms felt to be equally appropriate with male to adumbrate the majesty of the Over-soul, but the interplay of all psychic and physical sexual forces is felt in itself to be religious. Already we find in one of the earliest Upanishads -

'For just as one who dallies with a beloved wife has no consciousness of outer and inner, so the spirit also, dallying with the Self-whose-essence-is-knowledge, has no consciousness of outer and inner'. Here is no thought that passion is degrading . . . but a frank recognition of the close analogy between amorous and religious ecstasy . . . It is thus that the imager, speaking always for the race, rather than of personal idiosyncrasies, set side by side on his cathedral walls the yogi and the apsara, the saint and the ideal courtesan'.

Hinduism

What can we learn from hinduism

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The spaces between: geology and art

In the blog ‘accretionarywedge’. a geologist has written that his subject is a science riddled with aesthetic values. It “is a science driven in many cases solely by imagination and creativity, which then leads to an artistic representation or recreation of a time we’ll never visit, a place we’ll never see with our own eyes, or an organism that was only partially preserved". Not only does he believe that geology is riddled with aesthetic values, but many geologists also yearn to see geology within ‘traditional’ art, literature, music, etc. These are the yearnings for understanding that reside in conceptual spaces between a material object and its mental representation.

These spaces which link art and the Earth sciences—geology in particular—have not been widely recognized, yet both areas of human creativity have impinged on each other in the following ways.

-earth sciences phenomena as a source of artistic inspiration;
-geological illustrations as art;
-the use of geological materials in earth art;
-and geological investigations of the material basis for art objects.

All of these areas give us a glimpse of the great complexity inherent in the natural world, helping us appreciate the beauty and order of things. This, in turn, makes us aware of our place in the long-term material flux of a dynamic planet. Its then a short step to begin thinking about our own daily lives in a wider spiritual context. Beyond that, the study of geoscience in everyday life can give us an enormous amount of information of practical value while revealing much about the world in which we dwell. The earth sciences are, quite literally, all around us, and by learning about the structures and processes of our planet, we may be surprised to discover just how prominent a place geoscience occupies in the aesthetics of our daily lives and even our thought patterns.

Greg Wessell, co-curator of an exhibit called The Fusion of Geology and Art at the Two-Wall Gallery in Vashon Island, Wash., says the physical world is never that simple, it's never “just” anything, for behind the geological discoveries and findings and insights is a simple concept of beauty in the complexity of the system that creates folds, striations and cracks.

"Geologists by nature have to think in ways that engineers and others don't,” Wessell said. “They have to be able to picture complex processes in time and space using parameters (such as the concept of geologic time) that are largely outside human experience. So, it helps to be imaginative and creative ... putting all these disparate pieces of information together to construct a working model and then being able to tell others about it."



Wessell's picture of cross section with dropstones in soft sediment and accompanying soft-sediment disturbance was accompanied with the statement "Her life was like the sediment in a pond; criticism from her parents made a big splash on the surface and a permanent crater in the mud below."

His picture A lesson from stratigraphy was accompanied by the phrase: "Everything you say and do makes an impact, but the impact may not be measurable to you."
Carol Nelson was stimulated to produce a series of abstract paintings inspired by the colours and textures of the Grand Canyon. "The view is straight down from the south rim. The colours of the water constrast with the warm canyon walls"
Geologists have the ability to represent the geology they see in the field on drawing paper or canvas--an inherit ability and one that was used extensively in the classical (pre-computer) period in geology. Artists, on the other hand, tend to see a scene from the composition, light, and perspective, which includes the geology. This contrast prompted three geologists of the Kansas Geological Survey to explore how well Kansas geology is represented by artistic works of several indigenous Kansas artists. For example in Gove County, there are chalk remnants forming spectacular outliers. The Monument Rocks are perhaps the best known.
Monument Rocks in Gove County, by J.R. Hamil (watercolor)

What does not seem to have been explored artistically is a tract of landscape from the point of view that it expresses a unified biogeological system embedded in the local culture, with notional spaces linking biology, geology and culture. In this connection, art is fundamentally produced by acting upon two main principles-a principle of form, derived fom the organic world, which is the universal objective aspect of all works of art; and a principle of origination peculiar to the human mind. The latter impels us to create and appreciate the creation of symbols, phantasies, myths which take on a universally valid objective existence only in virtue of the principle of form. Form is a function of perception; origination is a function of imagination. These two mental activities exhaust, in their dialectical counterplay, all the psychic aspects of aesthetic experience.

But art has other aspects-biological and social. Indeed life itself, in its most secret and essential sources, is aesthetic in that it only is in virtue of the embodiment of energy in a form which is not merely material, but aesthetic. Such is the formative principle discernible in the evolution of the universe itself. It would seem that the more the scientist is able to reveal of the nature of the physical structure of the world, the more he relies on numerical harmonies which are aesthetically satisfying. Fundamentally, the geologist, no less than the artist, should be ready to accept a view of planet Earth that finds that the cleavage between the aesthetic and the extra-aesthetic domain of experience, no less than that between the scientific and the extra-scientific explanations, is the cleavage between the metrical and the non-metrical, rather than that between the concrete and the transcendental.


European sedimentary basins (PaintShop Pro image)

In philosophy of mind the general claim is made that the mental supervenes on the physical. The term 'supervenience' is used to describe a kind of dependency relationship, typically held to obtain between sets of properties. The value of a physical object is sometimes held to be supervenient upon the physical properties of the object. Kendall Walton's analysis of various aesthetic properties takes this idea further and suggests that the 'supervenience bases' of artworks extend well beyond their physical boundaries to include the artists' intentions, the actual or apparent processes that led to the formation of the works, the character of other contemporary or historical works, and the various categories recognized by the artistic community as a whole.

In aesthetics, such "wide" supervenience of artworks is generally accepted to support people classified as contextualists who believe that the study a work of art's non-perceptual hidden properties, such as its historical and cultural background, is necessary in order to appreciate it. For example, the beauty of Sueurat's La Grande Jatte might supervene on the physical composition of the painting (the specific molecules that make up the appearance), the artistic technique of the painting (in this case, dots), the figures and forms of the painted image (the behaviour of Parisians at leisure), or the painted canvas as a whole (the concept of a work of art in France at that time). On the other hand, formalists believe that the aesthetic appreciation of an artwork generally is a private affair and involves an attentive awareness of its sensory or perceptual qualities only, and does not require knowledge about its nonperceptual properties.

What does this hidden knowledge add to our appreciation of the picture? To Marcus Aurelius it was important to 'know' the hidden things of life.

"Observe and contemplate on the hidden things of life: how a man's seed is but the beginning, it takes others to bring it to fruition. Think how food undergoes such changes to produce health and strength. See the power of these hidden things which, like the wind cannot been seen, but its effects can be".

We know by a process of immersion. We enter a state of intellectual absorption in an action or condition. Popper says immersion is characterised by "diminishing critical distance from what is shown and increasing emotional investment in what is happening". The idea that the meaning of a work derives more from an audience's interpretation of it rather than simply the author's intent is central to much twentieth-century criticism.

One important way in which the experience of art becomes more than a private affair is in the form of art criticism. Art criticism is an interpretive portal between artist and viewers. In theory, art criticism assesses the aesthetic excellence of works of art, just as in the popular imagination the critic is first and foremost someone who judges. But a survey of visual art critics at American newspapers in 2002 ranked judgement well behind education as the perceived task of the critic. This change from making an aesthetic judgement to telling the story behind a work of art has come with modernism and a shift away from beauty as being the main goal of artists.

Supervenience also applies to scientific presentations. In biology, the building blocks of the cell do not alone account for the cell's development and functioning, which are subservient on environmental factors and chemical changes at the level of the cell as a whole. They work as a process to promote the expression of genetic potentials in a sort of "top-down" causation. However, the question may be asked to what extent this supervenience is necessary to appreciate the following photo-micrograph of a six-cell human test tube embryo as a subject of contemplation. Does it matter if the observer is ignorant of the subject matter altogether?

Similarly, the subject of the following watercolour is a key geological element in our knowledge of primeval processes that occurred 220 million years ago. These physical processes were responsible for the present physical appearance of a swathe of Britain, from Scotland to the West Country. Would knowledge of these processes aid contemplation of the picture?