Divinatory Art: Conduitional Love and the Channels of Creation are central to the process of receiving future creations and projecting them into the present.

 

Divination is the act of summoning omens through attention and intention in order to determine the will behind the mind's design, rather than passively waiting for divine signs to appear. It is like a trick of the psyche, played in order for it to reveal itself to itself.

every medium has its own tale to tell; every proverbial brush has stories embedded in its bristles. If we can just listen and follow its lead, images will emerge

"my higher self hired my lower self to do its dirty work"

I use the term "divinatory art" rather than "visionary art" to describe my work. The latter, in my humble o'pineal, has been co-opted by a re-presentational aesthetic--wherein the vision that has been "had" is translated into symbols, intellectually encoded and humanized as it were. "Divinatory" is a term better suited for my process, in that there is no symbolic preset through which the transmission is filtered; symbols are ambiguous and self-arising. While I paint, the texture of the surface I am working on opens up like a crystal ball; imagery presents itself in the impulsive priming. I intuitively trace these forms into being.

 

"Divination" implies a technique that summons signs and omens, rather than passively awaiting their arrival. It does so to determine "the divine will", which is to simply imply that by opening myself to a universal, creative impulse, and linking it up to the unconscious, and trusting where the channel will lead me, I am able to step aside and witness the work come into being, as if it were coming through me. As if it were always stored inside the body, waiting to be printed out.

When we speak of "channeling" something we use riverine metaphors--we become like a channel that siphons water from the ocean, which is the absolute body of water. For the human vessel, the channel leads to our larger body, outside of time and space, a collective unconscious or repository of archetypes and shared dream motifs--the divine imagination or our imagination of the divine.

 

The artist widwives and translates these processes to the best of their ability.

"Let they who are

without in-sight,

look out!"

excerpt from an upcoming article called "Pareidolia & the abyssmaleable nature of reality"

someone in my head (crop).JPG

Stainspotting: Some years ago, seeking relief from my intricate, time-consuming studio paintings, I sparked the pareidolia-based project "Stainspotting”, which is street-art in the most literal sense of the word. It exemplifies the principles of imperfection and impermanence, set by the wabi-sabi tradition, and offers a simplified glimpse into my divinatory creative process. It treats the surface of the material world as an oracle, rather than an obstacle. 

 

Interfacing between void and imagination, the project utilizes the random chaos of literal street stains, wherein ordered thought-forms may be plotted and conjured to the surface, outlined with chalk. The whimsical results are like cave art on concrete. 

In order to see what is inside one's mind, the mind has to be projected outwards. This, in fact, is occurring all the time, automatically and mostly unnoticed. 

 

Pareidolic phenomena offer an opportunity to use the material realm as a springboard into the MetaReal world. Practices like “stainspotting” make us aware of the fact that “the world” consists of empirical data that has been taken in (upside-down, inverted and backwards) processed through our experience, and automatically/instantly projected back outwards as if the projection map were the “real” thing. We basically “objectify” reality, as “out there” as that may sound.

So when you start paying attention to how, say, your mind automatically treats a sidewalk stain like a Rorschach and see a face peek up you, you may become aware of this phenomenon, of how subjective reality really is. And the imaginings that auto-arise inform us of the void denizens  that occupy the unconscious.

where the sidewalk ends,

the other side begins....

"this psychic teleprompter

beneath my feet"

These are re-presentational works,

they are excluded from the above mentioned techniques:

"my alter egos

have alter egos

of their own"

These are Ambassadorial re-presentatives

avatars, daemons, geniuses

hail meta,

the deified fractal,

Russian doll divinity,

cathedraled

god of meta,

who in its infinite nature

overcomes

awk-wards,

all-most whole-some:

a direction

towards totality and wholeness

"Only a small part of us is shown, in three dimensional space, extending into time, like a turtle's head poking out. Just the tip, the tip of the iceberg--of the frozen, fossilized future that lies pre-served, in waiting, in the repositories of eternity. The scry-o-genic future. And if we were to gaze into that cold vision crystal, and if it were well thought/thawed out by the laser of our focus, we'd be able to receive its stream/dream as it flows backwards into the retro-causal pre-sent, where the visionary may drink of its essence and profess it into existence. This is not just a matter of creativity, it's a matter of springing ourselves from the vaults of a time-released, trickle-down eternity.

 

It's a matter of self-realization, of temporal excavation, a matter of freeing ourselves from the prison of time, and the prism of mind.

 

It is, in essence, a heist, seen through the framework of art. It's an Art-Heist. To become fully yourself is to become complicit in the divine crime of creation, is to become an Artheist."

the recurring motif of UFOs, saucers, or mandalas as they appear in my visions and my art are symbols that stand in as emblem of Totality, Wholeness, our unidentified potential, yet unrealized. The parts we have hidden from ourselves coming out of the woodworks to reacquaint themselves with us in disguise, in hopes of integrating. It is the light towards which our spiritual ambitions lean, the portal through which the future enters the present.

You may have heard me speak, on some podcast or other, about a breakthrough experience in the early 2000s, where I pierced through the membrane of space and time and allowed an eternal creative force to enter inside me and move me to create a painting that I believed had always existed, just waiting to be realized and released into the stream of time. This is that painting.

“Anima Projection”, oil on canvas (2014) and photoshop (2019):

 

behold the shift-faced Muse/Siren, conjunction of psyche and soma, perched on the bastion of Attraction/Distraction, Seduction/Abduction, Inspiration/Expiration, her voice pitched like a razor blade of distinction. Discern the song and shore with certainty before you abandon ship and swim to her isle. Are you swimming to or from yourself? Are you waving or drowning?

"Safe Passage", acrylic on canvas, 2016

muses and sirens

there is enchantment in this treacherous terrain

siren.JPG

I cannot tell my story without it being a tale of attraction and distraction, seduction and abduction. Terence Mckenna used to speak of a "transcendental object at the end of time", a "strange attractor" that draws all things towards it through a mutational process until they become fully realized in the likeness of this thing. I think it is equally as important to acknowledge the many strange "distractors" along the way that muddle, mimic, and mute the signal of this beckoning call.

 

The song of the sirens, in The Odyssey, is a perfect metaphor. As much as they may sound like the song of the muse, their inspiration is your expiration. But the music, oh the music, it is so hauntingly beautiful. To die for, even. One of my proudest lyrics speaks to this self-destructive/distactive tendency:

sailing past the silent sirens,

i request of them a song,

cause you know my ship's been (w)reckless for unfathomably long

Should you choose to raise the dead

be sure to raise them well

or they might grow up

to become a living hell 

"Bast, Daughter of Ra", ink and pencil on paper, 2005

"Seduction/Abduction", white pencil and ink on black paper, 2005

 

With ovarian overtures, this piece speaks to the fertile, reproductive mysteries, guarded by the femalien half of the species, in whose bodily biological laboratories new life can be created once seduction has turned to abduction, and womanhood becomes mothership. 

 

In film noir the term "femme fatale" is used to describe the seductive siren that ultimately leads the hero to his shipwreck, but in "Froudian" psychology there are subtler interpretations plotted in the employment of the words’ origins. Folklorist and faery expert Brian Froud, the designer of the worlds in Jim Henson’s The Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, says the following, illustrating a paradox after relating the word “fae” or “faery” to the word “fate”: 

 

“Faery women were once called ‘fateful women’ (femmes fatales): desirable, seductive, empowered with supernatural gifts and with an intimate knowledge of the hidden powers of stones, plants, and all things natural. These women were the guardians of special groves, streams, wells, and other sacred places of beauty and power.”[1]

 

This description paints an almost contradictory picture from how it is used in the noir context. In essence, I believe, all women are femmes fatales, engendering as they do the portal to man's immortality, jangling the reproductive keys to mankind’s fate, and that notion—when viewed with the second sight of a mystical air can come across as rather ominous, humbling, or "noir", because it implies they also hold the key to his extinction.

 

#thefutureisfemale

 

[1] Brian Froud, Good Faeries, Bad Faeries

© 2020 by The Ungoogleable Michaelangelo

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