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In this issue:Wolf's Wramble - Authentic Art Part II |
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Okay, so I'm sitting in the Café Gauguin in Orlando, enjoying the first decent breakfast I've had in a week. (I'm at a Microsoft technical gathering and the conference food is to die for . literally.) As I sip my coffee, taking in the ambiance, I look at the copies of the Savage's paintings hanging on the walls, and I notice something odd. In a flash, the waistband of my knickers cinches so tight that it takes my breath away. There, on the wall, is a fair replica of Gauguin's Ave Maria and the women in the background shown bowing to the mother and child have no tits. I don't mean that they were flat chested. I mean that they had no breasts, just smooth chests, like chickens! At first, I chuckled and dismissed the work as a form of Ashcroftian vandalism, but as I looked around the large space, I noticed that many of the master's other works were similarly defaced. The "artist" had merely painted over the naughty bits. There was no subtlety, no finesse; just a smear of cream coffee colored paint over breasts and, in some cases, clothes had been painted over formerly bare flesh! When I inquired of a waiter what was up with the paintings, he replied down his nose that that the café was named after "Gogin" the painter and that these were his works. I replied that I was indeed familiar with the artist's work and was wondering why these copies had been expurgated. "What does that mean?" he asked. "The girls have lost their tits," I replied. His eyebrows went up in recognition, and he said with a sly expression on his face, "That's the titty corner," indicating a small, dimly lit area well away from the dining tables. I could see from where I was that there were more copies of Gauguin's paintings which I assumed were more faithful renditions of his famous work. Pointing at another painting, I asked. "What's with the clothes?" He stared at the painting for a minute. "Huh," he said finally. I indicated a large mural on one wall that was a pastiche of several, much less artful reproductions with even cruder defacement, and asked the waiter if he knew that Gauguin had been nicknamed "the Savage?" No, he hadn't. "Why," I asked "do you suppose that someone would have named a restaurant after the Savage and then de-savagized his work?" Sensing my discomfort, obviously not willing to speculate, the waiter shrugged, refilled my coffee cup and beat a hasty retreat. I pulled out a pad and began to write in a vain attempt at smoothing out my knickers. Geez! I couldn't make this stuff up. Is it a flaw in the American character that we are simultaneously attracted by the cachet and repulsed by the content of art? Or are we so arrogant that we have no compunction about bowdlerizing the world's great works of art in an attempt to enslave them to our single minded pursuit of profit? Or is the answer simpler? Is it merely that Americans are satisfied with "artsy?" That this imitation of art is a good enough substitute in our workaday lives? I think that may be the answer. After all, huge swaths of the population swallow news that is "truthy." Truthy news has the ring of plausibility without all those complicated and contradictory facts. "Truthy" pronouncements by the government are comforting and affirm our preconceived notions without the tartness and sting that often accompanies truth. In the same way, "artsy" does not surprise or challenge. It does not frighten nor even delight, but it seems to do well enough for an unconscious consumer-centric world. "Artsy" is like a clean, well lighted place, a café where old men cower to keep the dragons of night at bay. "Artsy" is spiritual lithium, a Soma-like adulteration of life that makes the rough places plain. And don't we all have enough life in our lives, without art rubbing our noses in it? As I sat in the Café Gauguin in Orlando, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and grounded. The scent of good coffee filled my nostrils and I let myself become aware of another art more authentically executed. My knickers untwisted slowly as I composed and repeated a spell to change my consciousness. I took a bite of my breakfast and repeated, "At least, the eggs are superb." Back to Table of Contents Thirteen years ago Coven Triskets, of which I was a member, met several times with Victor and Cora Anderson, the founders of the Feri tradition. We were all Reclaiming witches working towards what we came to know as a Feri initiation. Reclaiming is a tradition spun of many threads, a strong one which is Feri. Many concepts core to Feri are also core to Reclaiming, like the iron and pearl pentacles and the concept of us having three separate yet interdependent souls. It was in our meetings with Victor and Cora that Reclaiming witches began to work with the concept of the Black Heart of Innocence. The Black Heart is the soul in its natural state, unfettered by the restrictions of society. It is the child in the story "The Emperor's New Clothes" who speaks the truth. The Black Heart is primal, sexual, and innocent. All of us were teaching WitchCamps at the time, and our love for the Black Heart soon infused the wider Reclaiming community. It was a time many of us were coming into our own power, and the Black Heart was a potent symbol of speaking truth and speaking out. A year or so ago I began working with the concept of the Green Heart of Connection and the Pink Heart of Compassion. Some Feri practitioners say that that the Black Heart is the state of being we speak from when the points of the Iron and Pearl pentacles are in balance. This has not been my experience. For me, the Black Heart is the heart of the fetch, of the primal younger self. For many people, reclaiming the beat of this heart is difficult, and requires diligent work. It means letting go of what other people think and feel, and speaking truth with a wide open heart. It is one of the strengths of Feri, but I have also come to view it as one of its weaknesses. To speak from only one soul, one part of our psychic structure is to be off balance. Feri has been said to be an amoral tradition. This has never been appealing to me, and never been my experience of my souls being in alignment. The Black Heart is amoral, just as the fetch is. Neither are concerned with structures of morality or ethics, but beat to the drumbeat of individual and independent primal desire. As I have worked in the past couple of years to integrate the traditions of Reclaiming and Feri, the beat of the Black Heart called out to be met by other beats. Reclaiming is a tradition that has a clear moral compass, as expressed in the Principles of Unity. As a witch who is a blend of both Reclaiming and Feri, I felt a need for more than the beat of the primal Black Heart. For more than a year now, I have been working with the Black Heart of Innocence belonging to the Fetch, The Green Heart of Connection belonging to Talking Self, and the Pink Heart of Compassion which resides in the Divine Self. How did this come about? One day, in the midst of an on-line debate on a Feri initiates list about power, I saw and felt these hearts clearly. Imagining them beat as one has become a core piece of my personal practice. The debate was about something Victor had supposedly said, about those with great power having a black aura similar to the untrained eye as auras of psychopaths and sociopaths. This was repulsive to me, and an example of why a Black Heart not balanced by the beat of connection and compassion can lead to a misunderstanding and even a perversion of spiritual power. There is power in working solely from the Black Heart, but not beauty. I could not, and still can not fathom why anyone would strive to appear to the untrained eye as a dangerous psychopath or sociopath. This strikes me as a glamorization of amoral power, or power for it's own sake. Those who really walk a spiritual path are not amoral. Far from it. Those who walk the path of spirit have their souls in alignment, and each soul has a heart that dazzles. With all hearts beating in rhythm, the aura shimmers with the golden light of all spiritually attuned beings. There may be Feri practitioners with black auras, but my strong advice is to give these practitioners a wide berth. Somewhere in arguing my point, the hearts showed themselves to me. The Green Heart of Connection is the heart of talking self, of the part of us who makes connections, uses words, and wants to communicate. This heart beats with concern for what effect its words and deeds will have on the world, and community. It beats with a deep understanding that everything we do has a consequence and that for every action there is a reaction. This heart is aware of being just one of many who live on this earth, and seeks to co-exist and co-operate with others. This heart understands and is concerned with context, with looking at how one thing relates to another. Unlike the Black Heart, it understands timing and diplomacy. This heart holds itself accountable for its actions. The Pink Heart of Compassion is the heart of the divine self, the part of us who is tapped into our god/dess self, who is organized around what is for the good of all, and not concerned with self interest. This self and heart has the wide vision of the Goddess, beyond time itself. Love emanates from this heart and is the center of this soul. Part of aligning my three souls is imagining and envisioning these three hearts, seeing them clearly in my minds eye, and feeling the beat of my own heart and feeling it as all three of these beating as one. When I am in conflict with others, or have something difficult to say, I try and do this with all hearts beating as one. I ask myself if what I am saying is true, necessary, and kind. The Black Heart beats out truth. Listening to the Green Heart, I imagine the effect of my words and ask myself if these words are needed. Is this a time I need to speak up? If it is, I breathe into my Pink Heart, and strive for each word to be kind, and stemming from love. To be Reclaiming Feri is to embrace all our selfs/souls, and to strive for these souls/selves to work in alignment. Over the years, I've had some hard and difficult things to say, things my Black Heart demanded to be said. My Green Heart has made me accountable and responsible for the effect of my words and my Pink Heart has made me ground my words in love. Over and over again, I ask if what I am about to do or say is true, neccesary and kind. I check in and see if one of the hearts has a louder beat. In my striving to be kind, am I not telling the truth? Am I feeling something needs to be said, and am rushing to do so before it has circulated a few times thru the beat of the Pink Heart? Am I saying something that is true, but completely out of context? Am I willing to be accountable for my words? To work in any community, in any group of human beings, is challenging. To work in a group of witches is even more so. My belief is that a community that beats soley to the rhythm of the Black Heart is not one that will be tolerable for long. Truth, like power, needs to be mitigated by compasssion, and by our understanding that we all are connected and interdependent with the earth. The concept of the three hearts grounds the power of truth in connection and compassion, making the beat of all more potent and beautiful. Back to Table of Contents 
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