Monday, April 15, 2013

Symbolism From A Phenomenological Perspective.

During an art critique in my school days - a professor pointed out in a student's painting the repetition of form. Interestingly enough, there it was, hidden but in plain sight. Certainly, consciousness of this form repetition would have to be genius, a kind of tapping into some vault of esoteric knowledge that exists only within the ether. This gifted insight was one I had always remembered, and since then I had been able to see it manifesting (unintentionally) in my own work. In one particular piece, for example, entitled, "Drowning With You", there was no "you", yet I had called it this. There it was in the distance, a tiny hand emerging from a charcoal sea - reaching past the horizon line into whatever it was that was "above."  Who was I drowning with? And what was I reaching for? The drawing is presented below.
It hadn't occurred to me until much later that the actual hand (presented in blue pen to the right of the painting) mimicked the larger form (which I had considered to be a rock (nature) to the left of the composition. Similarly - the tiny blue hand that can be seen (right bottom and diagonal to the perpendicular blue hand) mimics the form (another rock) that is in the forefront of the composition.  If one looks closely, even details such as the thumb and fingers are abstractly duplicated.  

My thought:  How could this be a mere coincidence?  

Clearly, there was an unconscious process happening during this drawing's creation. Furthermore, who was I drowning with? With these symbolic forms manifested, the correlation drawn is this:  

I was drowning with nature.  

But what does it mean to be drowning with nature? Here, I had unconsciously formed a visual connection between the subject (the arm and hand which represent a human drowning (myself)) and the object (the rocks, rather, nature). Let us explore why, unconsciously, I may have visualized this.

From a psychoanalytic perspective - to destroy the self is to destroy the primary object. The primary object is the human "mother." Killing oneself is a way to kill the object. Why? Because we are born from another human, and our initial experience is the experience that we are a small piece of this "greater" thing that we have emerged from. Any feelings we experience as children toward our object (mother, and in some cases father) (for example, anger toward our mothers if we are not fed right away) activates the aggressive drive which we are born with biologically that enables our survival.  "You are hurting me. You are preventing me from getting the nourishment I need. I must destroy you so that I can survive." There is an opposite reaction that occurs from the experience of this aggressive drive, and that is the protective urge to keep the object safe, because biologically we also know that our source of food and care comes from this object (mother). We are dependent on the mother. If the mother is bad, we still need her to survive, yet we also want to expedite the process of detaching from her (physically and psychologically) by destroying her and becoming our own, separate object.  At this stage, this is impossible to achieve. To go off and die and refuse the mother is a way of killing a part of the mother as an expression of aggression which can create or activate a destructive impulsive action. Because we depend on our objects for guidance and nurture, we learn and internalize behavior, as well as feelings, that are experienced and presented by the mother (in this case, also father). As we get older, we carry this within us. How many times have you heard someone say, "Oh he's just like his father!" "I'm worried that I'm becoming my mother." In the adult, suicide is not just a killing of the self - it is a rejection of the internalized object - the object which can not be tolerated and must be destroyed.

However, the drawing does not simply represent a feeling of destruction toward the primary object.  We must ask, "Why then, is this 'greater' object represented in the natural environment, and not in the form of another human?" I wondered, what is it that is trying to speak with me through this image?  Clearly, I did not represent this consciously, which means there is an unconscious and symbolic message hidden within, that, as was mentioned before, can only be understood through connecting to that esoteric vault within the ether. Is it as simple as saying, "Well, I'm drowning, and nature itself is also drowning, so this is a representation of wanting to destroy the primary object, yet it is presented in code to bring these repressed, unwanted and destructive urges to murder the primary object to light." The reason I do not believe that it is as simple as this is because we must consider further circumstances surrounding the image that apply to its hidden meaning. I will consider the fact that the analysis of this image is an analysis of self - and therefore the interpretation is altered based on personal bias. However, my intention is not to find answers, but to present the reader with the advent of this mind journey that has been embarked upon.

Further circumstances that must be considered are as follows:  

What is the symbolism of drowning in the ocean?
 Could this be representative of the "oceanic feeling" which Freud has never felt but discusses in his work (which was unbeknownst to the artist during the creation of this drawing)?  

Does this oceanic feeling correlate with days in the womb?

Why should we stop at "physical" mother, child, father?  
If all living things reproduce, and sexual processes permeate existence, what does this say about the creative force and its role in the universe at large, which flows through all living things?  And what is the role of human creation in all of this?  

Should we look at the destruction of the self, not only as destruction of the "greater" thing - this primary object (physical mother) but as destruction of the "greatest" thing - nature itself?

What was I reaching for?

These ideas will be explored and formulated in the evolution of this blog.

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