The World of Leonora Carrington, Part III: Dark Mysteries, Cosmic Jokes

This is the final installment about the Surrealist painter, sculptor, and writer Leonora Carrington.  The first part can be found here.  The second, bringing the story of her paintings up to the beginning of the 1960s, can be found here.  Some of the information below about Carrington is from Susan Aberth’s book Leonora Carrington: Surrealism, Alchemy and Art .

The 1960’s

In 1960, there was an exhibition of 55 Carrington pieces at the Museo National de Arte Moderno in Mexico City.  The next year, the Museo Nactional de Arte Moderno and the Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes in Mexcio City included Carrington in the exhibition El Retrato Mexicano Contemporaneo, as a Mexican artist. 

Mexico had become her cultural home.

During this time Carrington received a government commission to paint a mural for the Museo Nacional de Antropologia, located in Chapultepec Park in Mexico City.  Her mural was for the section in the museum dedicated to the state of Chiapas and so she travelled there in 1963 to study the region and the culture.

“In San Cristobal de las Casas she stayed with the Swiss anthropologist Gertrude Blom, whose fieldwork focused on the Lacandon Indians who lived in the area.  Through Blom she was introduced to two Chiapas curanderos (healers) from the village of Zinacantan (called ‘House of the Bats’) and, although wary of foreigners, they were so impressed by her knowledge of and respect for traditional healing that they allowed her to attend some of their ceremonies.” (Aberth, p 97)

For the next six months Carrington worked on preliminary drawings of the villagers and local animals.  When she returned to Mexico City she began to study the Popul Vuh, the sacred book of the ancient Quiche Maya, in order to better understand the pre-conquest belief systems of the Chiapas Indians, descendents of those who wrote the Popul Vuh.

The result was the mural El mundo magico de los mayas.

El Mundo Magico de los Mayas, 1963

Chrysopeia of Mary the Jewess, 1964

The Kabbalah

In the mid-sixties, Carrington began exploring Kabbalah lore, a branch of Jewish mysticism that seeks to explain the relationship between the realm of the eternal and unchanging and the finite, ever-changing world.  Kabbalistic methods of spiritual realization are, for the most part, the foundation of European alchemy. 

Of course, she couldn’t help but play around with the sacred in the same way she’d done with icons of institutional Christianity.  When nothing is sacred….everything is sacred.

The Bath of Rabbi Loew, 1969

Details from Chrysopeia

A Surrealist Master

There is a chapter in Alejandro Jodorowsky’s spiritual autobiography, The Spiritual Journey of Alejandro Jodorowsky, called A Surrealist Master that tells the tale of his odd, spiritual apprenticeship to Carrington some time during the mid-sixties. (For those unfamiliar with Jodorowsky, he is most famous as the writer/director of the cult films El Topo and The Holy Mountain.  He is also a playwright, actor, and graphics novel writer – his most famous comic being The Incal – in collaboration with the cartoon artist Moebius.  On top of all that, he is also a spiritual guru of sorts, having developed his own spiritual system he calls “Psychoshamanism”). 

Jodorowsky in the 60s

In the Spiritual Autobiography, Ejo Takata, the Zen master under which Jodorowsky was studying at the time, suggested that – because of Jodorowsky’s issues with his mother, and consequently women in general – he should spend some time as Leonora Carrington’s spiritual apprentice.  In the master’s words:  “Accept my friend Leonora Carrington as your teacher.  She doesn’t know any koans, but she has resolved them all.” (Spiritual Autobiography, p 43) 

(In the autobiography it is never clear what Carrington’s relationship was with Ejo Takata, but he obviously knew her well enough to suggest the apprenticeship and she accept).

At their first meeting she asked him to move for her, knowing that he had once been a mime.  He did so.  Afterwards, she silently left the room, came back with tea and biscuits.  Jodorowsky:  “She sipped the drink, which was sweetened with honey, then lifted her tunic, which covered her down to her ankles, and showed me a small wound on her calf.  With the teaspoon, wearing the childlike expression of a sorceress, she scraped the scab away from the wound and let the spoon fill with blood.  She brought it carefully over to me without spilling a drop, emptied the red liquid into my glass, and bade me drink it…Then, rummaging in an oval box, she pulled out a pair of scissors and cut my fingernails as well as a lock of my hair.  She put them all in a tiny sack she hung around her neck.  ‘You will return!’ she said.”  (Spiritual Autobiography, p 49)

The Ancestor, 1968

 That night he dreamed she was beckoning him to her.  He woke, found himself running through the streets of Mexico City back to her house.  He let himself in with the key that she had given him that day, climbed the stairs, and found her seated on a wooden throne whose back was carved with the bust of an angel, naked except for a Tallit (a Jewish prayer shawl), reciting a strange litany in English.  She took no notice of him.

“I, the eye that sees nine different worlds and tells the tale of each.

I, who saw the guts of pharaoh, embalmer, outcast.

I, the lion goddess who ate the ancestors and churned them into gold in her belly.

I, the lunatic and fool, meat for worse fools than I.

I, the bitch of Sirius, landed here from the terrible hyperbole to howl at the moon…”

(Spiritual Autobiography, p 50)

Portrait of Carrington by Jodorowsky

Carrington intoned the litany until her husband Chiki arrived in the room, lifted her gently from the throne and walked her into the bedroom, stretching her out on the bed, never once acknowledging Jodorowsky’s presence.  Carrington continued to murmur her chant until she drifted off to sleep.

In the rest of the chapter, Jodorowsky talks about several initiation-type rites Carrington put him through, her speech full of surreal parable-esque questions and anecdotes, pretty much in the same style as her surrealist stories.

“Everything that lives is because of my vital fluid.  I wake when you sleep. If I stand up, they bury you.  Who am I?”

“A transparent egg that emits rays like the great constellations is a body, but it is also a box.  Of what?”

An even more revealing and interesting article on Carrington during the 60s was penned by Rita Pomade, talking about her friendship – and dream apprenticeship – to the artist.  This article is a wonderful mix of both the magical and the mundane in Carrington's life.  It can be found here.

The Candle Game, 1966

From the article:

Sachiel, angel of Thursday, 1967

“I visited her on a day she had taken ill and was confined to her bed. The bedroom is on the second floor and there is an outside walkway to reach it. As I approached her room, a black cloud floated out the door and rose into the clear, blue afternoon sky. I entered the room determined to say nothing, not even sure that I had actually seen anything. I sat on the only chair next to her bed. "You saw it," she said. "Yes," I answered. She went on to say she had brought on her illness through negative use of her powers and was exorcizing herself to get well. I believe it was during this time of deep personal reflection that she fully understood the double-edged power of the gift that had been imparted to her.

“Leonora loved her sons fiercely, but she claimed a legacy of ancient knowledge that she couldn't pass on to them. It was oral wisdom transmitted through women from one generation to the next, and she believed me to be a good candidate. I was given a task. "I'm planning to paint my own Tarot deck," she said, "and I want you to dream images for me to draw." She suggested an astral visit from her. I didn't relish an out of body visitor and asked her to stay home. I promised to dream, and I did...”

The 1970s

Mujeres Conciencia, 1972

Beginning in 1968 and throughout the 70s Carrington spent a significant amount of time in the United States, primarily in New York and the suburbs of Chicago.  Although she was not particularly interested in the work of Freud or Jung, while in NY she became a regular visitor of the Kristine Mann Library of the C. G. Jung Center, pouring through ARAS (Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism), a vast collection of visual materials.

It was also in the 70s that Carrington came into contact with the feminist movement, designing a poster for Mexican women’s liberation entitled Mujeres Conciencia.  As Aberth puts it, “some of her creative isolation she had experienced was beginning to dissipate as interviewers and historians sought her out.”  In 1974 Gloria Orenstein wrote a feature on her for Ms Magazine.

A Warning to Mother, 1973

The Crone

Reaching her sixties in the late 70s, she began to tackle the question of age.  Elderly women or ‘crones’ begin to appear in her work.  In a catalogue essay for such works, Whitney Chadwick says:

“The multiple realities that Carrington confronts in her work include the reality of old age.  Aging has occupied her thoughts more and more as she considers how to live the remainder of her life.  Focusing on the image of the crone, the ancient woman; she has rejected the ideals of youth and beauty that dominate both contemporary culture and most of the history of western painting…the painting of aged and wrinkled faces – along with the restoration of knowledge and power to the elderly – are perfectly in keeping with Carrington’s belief that unless women reclaim their power to affect the course of human life, there is little hope for civilization.”  (Leonora Carrington – Recent Works, NY, Brewster Gallery, 1988, p 4)

Grandmother Moorhead's Aromatic Kitchen, 1975

Ever the iconoclast, she (humorously) took on the Bogey Man of the Western world: Age…and so, Death.  (Here in the US, the constant message from the culture at large is that you must cling to youth – at all costs.  It has something to do with the constant cry for ‘the new’ that is fuel for the engine of Capitalism.  Planned obsolescence for human beings.  If you are no longer youthful, then you are no longer relevant, become a cast-off and invisible like clothes hanging from the racks in Good Will.  If it’s last year’s dress, it must be useless.

The desire to remain ever youthful has made us a nation of perpetual adolescents – still star-struck and obsessed with immature idols who crash and burn at an early age.  Granted, this is not just true for the US…but I’m living in the US right now…

Kron Flower, 1987

Paradoxically, the culture says to women ‘maintain your youth at all costs’ (meaning, maintain your sexual desirability at all costs), but then ruthlessly mocks those women who cannot resist the shame-inducing admonitions of the culture and feel the need for excessive make-up, a face-lift, or still dress in tight, provocative clothes. 

No one wins.  Which is exactly what those who are making money off the fear of ageing want.  They want us to be in so much fear when we look in the mirror that we can’t see that the lines on our faces are a well-earned map of lived experience.  That lived experience shouldn’t be automatically labeled ugly.  It shouldn’t automatically be labeled beautiful, either.  As the Tao Te Ching says: "Is and Isn't Produce Each Other."  Our face maps are simply what is.  But I digress…)

The Magdalens, 1986

 The Hearing Trumpet 

In the mid-seventies, Carrington published The Hearing Trumpet, a surrealist novel that centers around an old woman, Marian Leatherby, abandoned by her family and put in a home – Lightsome Hall – run by the Well of Light Brotherhood.  The buildings are shaped like toadstools, boots, birthday cakes.  With the aid of a hearing trumpet – her magical horn – Marian gains extrasensory perception.

The story contains two religious worlds: on the surface, there is the religious community at Lightsome Hall, manipulating its inmates; beneath are the ancient texts Marian is given to read, with their commentary on Doña Rosalinda, the Abbess of the Convent of Santa Barbara de Tartarus (Tartarus is a place in the Greek underworld, beneath Hades itself, where the Titans were cast after their defeat by the gods of Olympus). 

Ikon, 1988

At the bottom of it all is the quest for the Grail.  Four different quests, in fact:  Doña Rosalinda’s quest; Marian’s search; an odd band of magicians, poets and animals who set out to reclaim the Grail together; and the author’s own search.  Magic mingles with kitchen alchemy.  And slapstick reigns supreme over all.

The 1990’s

In the nineties, Carrington produced an amazing series of sculptures, copies of which can be seen in parks around Mexico City.  Most notable is the huge work, How Doth the Little Crocodile… based on the painting of the same name, the title taken from a poem in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

How doth the little crocodile...

How Doth... sculpture, 2003

 





Leonora Carrington and I…

After getting home from work a couple weeks ago, I found myself paging through the Carrington reproductions at the end of Aberth’s book (Sacrament, Temple of the Word, The Chrysopeia of Mary the Jewess; Sachiel, the Angel of Thursday…).  I spent quite a while looking at Took My Way Down, Like a Messenger, To the Deep.  

This painting could be seen as a play on a Christian triptych.  Instead of three horizontal panels, with the image of Christ at the center, Carrington’s panels rest one on top of the other, drawing the eye down.  A robed white crow floats in the top left hand corner, pressing an elevator button, wishing to descend to the panel below – maybe transformed in the next realm into a black robed gargoyle figure clutching its totem, a white hyena-cat. Skulls sit on a Mayanesque pyramid, a pink-robed elephant-headed shaman walks down the pyramid towards the lowest level, swinging a monstrously large garlic.  At the bottom, a black-robed, black-skulled Death floats past a blood-red triangle, guarded by two deer-snails. 

I took my way down, like a messenger, to the deep, 1977

What I especially like about these panels is that each realm bleeds into the other; there is no separation between them.  Figures from one panel continue in another panel.  In this realm what is up, what is down?  There is no center.  Despite the title, indicating that the direction the eye must make is down, I feel everything could be the central focus.  The center is everywhere, the way it is in a dream (although, for the record, Carrington insisted that she did NOT use dreams as the foundation of her work).

I fell asleep looking at the reproduction of the painting.  When I woke, it was dark.  Outside, shapes took form in the hemlock trees beyond the window – robed and hooded figures very much like the squat, robed figures in Carrington’s later work.  The figures moved very slowly, hunched with the strain of pushing dark carts or sleds.  Maybe they were pushing enormous books on wheels, who knows? 

I fell asleep again, and the painting continued on, shadows against the shadows of the trees.   In the middle of the night, I suddenly opened my eyes, and was confronted by a huge, triangular Carrington-like mask staring at me with one green eye.  Chair, desk, laptop, and zafu (sitting on top of the closed computer) had merged to form a mask-like face.  It stared at me, curious.  Maybe it had just opened its eyes, too, and was looking at the shadow of my face, wondering if I was some ragged leftover from its last dream.

One panel was bleeding into another…

Leonora Carrington 1917-2011

A wonderful clip of Leonora ruminating on her life, art, etc., from the film Gifted Beauty (Ragg Films, 2000) by Pamela Robertson-Pearce can be found below:

  

 http://vimeo.com/10760131

Below is a link to a hilarious interview of Carrington by a distant cousin - who ‘discovered’ her living in Mexico:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/video/2010/jun/18/surrealism-leonora-carrington

A good commentary on this video, about how “the English-speaking world can’t comprehend — without a lot of rationalizing — that the world is an irrational place,” can be found here. 

 

Another good BBC documentary by Kim Evans, called House of Fear, can be found below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4aooKLEHQg

 

*************************************

Addition 

(November, 2015):

If you're interested in a song with fascinating lyrics about the original proto-surrealist, Hieronymus Bosch, check out my series of blogs on the demo tapes of Zak Jourek (a forgotten singer-songwriter) here.

 

Or listen to the song (and his other songs) on Soundcloud here.

*****************************

MEANWHILE....

Michaela Kahn and I will be doing a reading in Kingston, NY this Saturday, June 2nd, 2012.  See below:

Chronogram Open Word 

Reading Series

 

with 

Michaela Kahn & Christien Gholson

hosted by 

Chronogram Poetry Editor 

Phillip X. Levine

June 2nd, 2012

7:00 PM

@ 

OUTDATED - AN ANTIQUE CAFE

314 Wall Street

Kingston, NY

(formerly The BEAHIVE)

The World of Leonora Carrington, Part II: The Alchemical Kitchen

Collage of Leonora by Leonor Fini

This is a continuation of a series of blogs about the artist Leonora Carrington (1917-2011). The first part can be found here, including a brief biography that includes her childhood, her entrance into the surrealist movement in Paris in the late 30’s, and her subsequent escape from both her family’s intentions to incarcerate her in a mental institution and Nazi Europe. 

  

 
 Most of the information below was gleaned from Susan L. Aberth’s Leonora Carrington: Surrealism, Alchemy and Art.  This book is a great introduction to the work of Carrington. 'Alchemical Kitchen' is a term lifted from the book.

New York

New York in 1941 was filled with Surrealists, all refugees from the war; Luis Bunuel, Marcel Duchamp, Andre Breton, Piet Mondrian, and Max Ernst among them.  She was reunited with Ernst for a brief period during these years, but Ernst had, since their separation, taken up with Peggy Guggenheim, who had financed his passage to America.  Although it was reported by many friends that they both suffered intensely over the loss of the other, for whatever reasons (and god knows there are many theories floating out there) the two did not reunite permanently. 

Surrealists in NY (Carrington, first row; Ernst far left, middle row)

 Her eccentric behavior during this time has become the stuff of legend.  As Aberth points out, it probably gained more notoriety because of her ‘recent bout with madness.’  “One often-told story has her inexplicably and calmly spreading mustard on her feet while at a restaurant.” (Aberth, pg 54, from Breton’s Anthology of Black Humour). “Another anecdote, recounted by the film-maker Luis Buñuel in his autobiography My Last Sigh shows that Carrington’s experiences in Spain were still fresh in her psyche:

'Separated now from Max Ernst, Leonora apparently lived with a Mexican writer named Renato Leduc.  One day, when we arrived at the house of a certain Mr. Reiss for our regular meeting, Leonora suddenly got up, went into the bathroom, took a shower – fully dressed.  Afterward, dripping wet, she came back into the living room, sat down in an armchair, and stared at me.  ‘You’re a handsome man,’ she said to me in Spanish, seizing my arm.  ‘You look exactly like my warden.’”

Tuesday, 1946

At this time, she developed an interest in cooking, likening it to the alchemical transformation (see

alchemy) of art production – transforming the 'base metal' of the psyche into ‘gold.’  She experimented in the kitchen for her fellow surrealists, creating elaborate feasts from archaic recipes.

Breton on one of Carrington’s feasts:  “Of all those whom she invited to her home in New York, I believe I was the only one to try certain dishes on which she had spent hours and hours of meticulous preparation, an English cookbook form the sixteenth century in hand – compensating by sheer intuition for the lack of certain ingredients that had become unobtainable or exceedingly rare since then.  (I will admit that a hare stuffed with oysters, to which she obliged me to do honor for the benefit of all those who had preferred to content themselves with its aroma, induced me to space out those feasts a bit.)” (Aberth, pg 54)

Surrealist joke or alchemical experiment?  Maybe they’re the same thing.  Either way, she managed to ‘out-surreal’ the founding figure of Surrealism.

During this time she continued to paint and write short stories, publishing in several American journals, but the man she had married in order to obtain a visa out of Europe, Renato Leduc, eventually tired of New York and wanted to move back to Mexico.

Mexico City

Carrington arrived in Mexico City in 1943 and the three year marriage of convenience to Leduc came to an end.   At the time the leftist government under President Lazaro Cardenas Del Rio (1934-1940) was freely granting European war refugees asylum and citizenship. 

Les Distractions de Dagobert, 1945

In 1946, Carrington married Hungarian writer-photographer Chiki Weisz, a war refugee.  It was also during these first years in Mexico City that Carrington struck up a friendship with another war refugee, the Spanish Surrealist painter Remedios Varo.  Her friendship with Varo lasted until Varo’s death in 1963.  Although they had known each other in Paris in the late 30’s, this friendship became central to the creative life of both artists.

Carrington:  “The loss (of Varo, in 1963) was even worse than I had thought it would be…because it’s not that easy to have a very close friend.” (from the documentary Gifted Beauty by Pamela Robertson-Pearce, Ragg Films, 2000)

Chiki, ton pays, 1947

The unofficial ‘headquarters’ for the European Surrealist émigrés was the apartment of poet Benjamin Peret and Remedios Varo on calle Gabino Barreda.  “Meeting almost daily for years, they (Carrington and Varo) shared their dreams, their nightmares, their obsessions, and their deepest secrets.” (Remedios Varo: Unexpected Journeys, Janet A. Kaplan, pg 93) 

Together they began to experiment, not only in painting – developing a new pictorial language – but also with cooking.  Cooking (following the transformative analogy from alchemy) became one of their avenues into an exploration of the occult.  

Varo wearing Carrington mask

“Using cooking as a metaphor for hermetic pursuits they established an association between women’s traditional roles and magical acts of transformation.  They had both been interested in the occult, stimulated by the Surrealist belief in ‘occultation of the Marvelous’ and by wide reading in witchcraft, alchemy, sorcery, Tarot and magic.  They found Mexico a fertile atmosphere where magic was part of daily reality; traveling herb salesmen would set up on street corners with displays of seeds, insects, chameleons, special candles, seashells, and neatly wrapped parcels with such mysterious labels as ‘sexual weakness.’  All used for the practice of witchcraft by the curanderas (healers), brujas (witches), and espiritualistas (spiritualists) who outnumbered doctors and nurses.  Mexico proved a vibrant influence on Varo and Carrington, for whom the power of spells and omens was already very real.” (Unexpected Journeys, Kaplan, pg. 96)

Varo is the author of the painting (The Flutist) that is the background for the title of this blog (see above, see below).

Remedios Varo, The Flutist, 1955

 The hybrid culture that mixed colonial Spanish with the surviving pre-Hispanic Indian culture also deeply influenced both artists.

Carrington: “Once you cross the border and you arrive in Mexico you feel that you are coming to a place that’s haunted.”  (Leonora Carrington in House of Fear, BBC documentary, 1992)

1940’s/50’s

In the late 40’s Carrington’s work was beginning to be noticed in the international art world.  The Pierre Matisse Gallery in New York arranged for a one-person show in 1948 and the exhibition was briefly reviewed in Time and Art News. 

And then we saw the daughter of the Minotaur, 1953

A one-person show at Clardecor in February 1950 in Mexico City introduced her art to a Mexican audience to rave reviews. “The Excelsior announced ‘that although Carrington was British and had lived in Mexico for a while: ‘her temperament is not of one who is limited by geographic environment, but the world in which she breathes is one of extraordinary amplitude.’

By 1959, she was included in Marcel Jean’s History of Surrealist Painting on the same level as the men.  For a woman who was a refugee from Britain, then Europe, a mother of two children (with Chiki Weisz), to continue her extraordinary output is stunning – but also to be taken seriously by the patriarchal world at that time was…well…surreal.

Temptation of St. Anthony, 1947

Carrington:  “I always continued to paint, even when the children were very small.  Only when they were ill I dropped everything and my children became my priority.  But often I said to my friend Remedios: ‘We need a wife, like men have, so we can work all the time and somebody else would take care of the cooking and children.’  Yes, men are really spoiled!” (Alberth, pg 64)

During this time, her ideas of art as alchemical transformation became tied to the feminine domestic sphere, transforming the kitchen into a site of magical power.

A description of her studio during these decades by Edward James: 

Carrington with St. Anthony, Chiki Weisz

“Leonora Carrington’s studio had everything most conducive to make it the true matrix of true art.  Small in the extreme, it was an ill-furnished and not very well lighted room.  It had nothing to endow it with the title of studio at all, save a few almost worn-out paintbrushes and a number of gesso panels, set on a dog and cat populated floor, leaning face-averted against a white-washed and peeling wall. The place was combined kitchen, nursery, bedroom, kennel and junk store.  The disorder was apocalyptic: the appurtenances of the poorest. My hopes and expectations began to swell.” (Aberth, pg 75)

Carrington in studio, 1950's

Carrington on the cabbage (merging the domestic with the mystical):  “The Cabbage is a rose, the Blue Rose, the Alchemical Rose, The Blue Deer (Peyote), and the eating of the God is ancient knowledge, but only recently known to ‘civilized occidental’ Humans who have experienced many phenomena, and have recently written many books that give accounts of the changing worlds which these people have seen when they ate these plants.  Although the properties of the cabbage are somewhat different, it also screams when dragged out of the earth and plunged into boiling water or grease – forgive us, cabbage…the cabbage is still the alchemical rose, for any being able to see or taste.” (Aberth, pg 94)

Cabbage, 1987

It was during this time that she began experimenting with egg tempura.  “What I needed was technique.  I didn’t want ideas.  Each one of us has those.  Technique, however is something that is learned.  For me it was very important.” (Aberth, pg 66)  As Aberth goes on to say: “One of the reasons that Carrington began to paint with the medieval technique of egg tempera was to create jewel-like tonalities, but according to her friend Gerzso: ‘The fact that mixing egg tempera seemed to mimic culinary procedure further enhanced its use in her eyes.’

The White Goddess

It was also in the late 40’s when Carrington read Robert Graves’s The White Goddess – a scholarly study of the archaic goddess religions, primarily in Britain, sparking a re-investigation into her Celtic roots.

Sidhe, the white people of the Tuatha de Danaan, 1954

And so the Tuatha de Danaan began to appear in her paintings.  Also called the Sidhe, these beings harkened back to the tales told her by her maternal Irish grandmother as a child. 

The Chair, Daghda Tuatha de Danaan, 1955

One of my favorite Carrington paintings was made during this period: AB EO QUOD (1956).  I find, when looking at  visual art, it's important I arrive at its doorstep relatively naive.  Any criticism or explanation - even titles, sometimes - tends to influence and distort my first impression.  What is my immediate sensation?  Although this feigned ignorance sometimes leads to tremendous misunderstanding, I've found that, for the most part, it creates an environment for a meeting - a between place where I meet the work of art halfway, become involved in the act of creation.  Finding out about the historical, technical or theoretical aspects of the painting is all well and good, can enhance the experience - but, for me, that needs to come later.

Having said all that, I am going to place Susan L. Aberth's detailed explanation of AB EO QUOD after the painting.  Will it enhance the view?  Might could.  But don't go directly to the explanation. Scan the painting first. Step inside the room, walk around the table. 

Do you remember what you came there for?  
What was your name before you entered the room?  
What is your name now?

AB EO QUOD, 1956

 

"The cloth covered altar table holds the wine and bread of the Eucharist, a symbolism reinforced by the further inclusion of a wheat-like grain and grapes.  The Christian tone is offset by the addition of a pomegranate with its intimations of the underworld and the goddess.  A glass beaker with wine and two full wineglasses are set to be drunk by invisible participants who are, perhaps, waiting for what appears to be an unfolding alchemical drama to conclude.  Here alchemy has a direct correlation to the transubstantiation that occurs in the Catholic mass.  On the ceiling of Carrington's painting is another white rose, dangling like a chandelier, that drips water on to the egg, thereby instigating the alchemical process, as the steam vaporising off the egg indicates....The walls are covered in arcane diagrams that highlight duality; a white woman's head joined to a black bearded man's, an Assyrian-looking goat rearing on a tree, a circle inscribed in a square, the cabbalist symbol for the spark of divine fire lying hidden within matter.  An embroidered fire screen bears the Latin words 'Ab eo, Quod nigram caudum habet abstine terrestrium enim decorum est', which is a fragment from the Asensus Nigrum, an obscure alchemical text from 1351.  This roughly translates as: 'Keep away from any with a black tail, indeed, this is the beauty of the earth.'  To emphasise this point, the lower portion of the fire screen is encircled by a long and hairy black tail that grows out of the embroidery...Everywhere large moths (perhaps butterflies) are hatching from their cocoons and fluttering about, an allusion to processes of transformation and metamorphosis."  (Aberth, pg 93)

Next Episode:

Symbols and (Ironical) Sorcery,

                                     the 1960’s and beyond....