Xul Solar

Someone once unkindly but not inaccurately described surrealism as "the rotting corpse of Western art." The surrealist fetishism of the lower realms of the human psyche was at the cost of forgetting the higher and more noble reaches of the human state. The dripping clocks and the bloated significance ascribed to the trvial contents of undistinguished dreams was the indulgence of Freudian fadism. The supposed "discovery of the unconscious" overshadowed the loss of the super-conscious. Salvador Dali, after all, was just an over-rated landscape painter. 

It is unfortunate therefore that the Argentine artist Xul Solar is usually counted as a surrealist and that the content of his work is mistaken for an exploration of the motifs of the unconscious. The prominence of Dali imposed a strong surrealist influence upon the Spanish-speaking world, no doubt, and Senor Solar would exhibit his work alongside others who fit more precisely in that category. But in fact he is not a surrealist painter in any proper sense. Stylistically, he is more akin to Kandinsky and Chagall - musicality and playfulness, respectively, are two of the strongest elements in his work - and what is mistaken for surrealist interests in his content is actually a deep and intelligent engagement with esotericism and the occult. The surrealists would sometimes exploit the esoteric and the occult but in this only achieved parody and pastiche. Xul Solar was an esoteric artist, a mystic (although technically speaking this is probably an incorrect label) and a student of the occult imagination in its more traditional sense. It is this that makes him interesting. He is not, like the surrealists proper, just a painter of nightmares. 

His intellectual interests were extensive and he shared many of them with his close friend Jorg Luis Borges. Indeed, he appears in some of Senor Borges' stories and many of the same stories celebrate their shared interests. Largely, we might describe these interests as a fascination with esoteric systems, the most fundamental of such systems being language iteself. Solar was an inventor of imaginary languages. This is reflected in his visual work as well. He develops a visual language of marks and shapes and symbols and lines and colours (without any of the randomness and denial of system that characterizes surrealism.) Where it does not have ignoble motivations the intellectual principle of system is at the root of the occult. Solar was fascinated with language, games, number systems - much to his credit he was a dedicated duodecimalist - and by extension, qabbalah, tarot and above all astrology, the occult language par excellence.  It has often been difficult for the art world to place him correctly: this is because these interests are outside of their usual purview. Fine artists are sometimes dabblers in the occult. Solar is more than that. He is not merely stealing a symbol here and there to impart a spurious aura of mystery: he is an occult artist in the fullest sense. 

His tarot cards are quite charming and are surely one of the better creative renderings of the tarot made in the XXth century. Alongside the traditional symbolism of the arcana, which he renders with a child-like Chargallesque simplicity, he has added elements of his own symbolic developments, qabbalistic and astrological. Here are some samples:

The qabbalistic background to these images is found in his many explicitly qabbalistic drawings and paintings. In Western occultism, as it is normally presented in modern times at least, the Hebrew qabbalah represents a sort of matrix for the varied and sundry symbols of a wide range of esoteric systems. It is a sort of filing system, and of interest for both Solar and Borges for exactly that reason. 

Note in these diagrams how the artist has made the qabbalistic system of ten (spheres) into a system of twelve planes - see the numbering on the sides and note that the numbers extend beyond 1 - 10. Solar was a duodecimalist - an advocate of a base 12 number system. Ordinarily, the qabbalah is a decimal system. Not for Xul Solar. 

As it happens, the present author himself departs from the modern occultists on this point - he would prefer not to match the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet to the twenty-two trumps of the tarot purely because there are twenty-two of each, for example - but that is another matter. Senor Solar stays within that modern convention, and then uses it as the core structure of his art. In his time in Paris in the 1920s, Solar became acquainted with the mad mage Aleister Crowley and his foul-breathed mistress Leah Hirsig, and for a time they groomed him to become a member of their occult 'Orders'. The qabbalistic matrix is the core of Mr Crowley's system too. Sensibly, though, Solar headed back home to South America and apart from that brief encounter was not unduly influenced by the Crowley cult. Certainly, Borges made much better company and offered a far healthier occult intellectuality. We should be thankful for this. Crowley was a parasite who destroyed many fine minds and considerable talents - Victor Neuberg, for instance - and whether he knew it or not at the time Xul Solar saved both his soul and his art by side-stepping the self-styled 'Beast'. 

The influence of Mr Crowley in the modern Western occult is so pervasive today that it is important to identify and celebrate those not under his sway. Xul Solar is one. Just as he is not properly classified as a "surrealist", neither, fortunately, is he an "occultist" in the Crowleyean sense. This is to say that just as he was not a painter of the dross of his own nightmares as were the surrealists, neither was he a cheap purveyor of the 'Dark Arts' like so many Crowley wanna-bes. His art has integrity, and his interest in esoteric systems - like that of Senor Borges - was genuine and elevated. His adopted name, Xul Solar - his real name being 'Oscar Agustín Alejandro Schulz Solari' - signals his benevolent disposition. Xul - a homonymn for 'Schulz' in Spanish - is L.U.X. backwards, the Latin for 'Light'. Xul Solar = the light of the Sun. There is nothing dark or menacing or sinister in the occult art of Xul Solar. He is not an explorer of an underworld. He is, rather, an explorer of the elevated imagination. 

Not all of his work is quite to the present author's taste, but there is a sense of joy and wimpsy and a delight in imagined worlds that characterizes his best paintings, that makes him a modern favorite. There is music and mystery. And like Borges, the city-as-labyrinth - as opposed to the over-worked city-as-distopian-hell-hole - is one of his preferred themes. 

Senor Solar was himself a practising astrologer. Often his astrological charts are exhibited alonside his watercolours and sculptures and treated as works of art in themselves. Here is one:

And here, below, is the present author's rendering of Senor Solar's natal chart according to the methods the author prefers, notably the square chart and the insistence on the seven ancient planets. Without resorting to in-depth analysis, the notable feature of the chart is, surely, the conjunction of the two lights, Sun and Moon, in the midheaven. Solar , that is to say, was born towards noon at a New Moon. As we see in his chart, this configuration is culminating.  In this sort of chart the so-called "angles" reveal all. In this case the native is indeed a 'New Moon' type, and we see at a glance why he went by the name of Xul Solar. 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Eight Immortals and the Imaginal

The Eight Immortals, figurines on a mantel in a Chinese private residence. 

The octagon, the number eight and the symbolism thereof features throughout Chinese spirituality. This eightfold symbolism takes both abstract (which is to say geometric) and iconographic (pictorial) forms. On a visit to any Taoist temple one will be surrounded by examples of each at every turn. Octagonal patterns and architectural features – such as octagonal windows – abound, and various groupings of eight are to be found on the altar and throughout the temple decorations. As noted in a previous post on this subject (see here) the most basic signification of this preponderance of eightfold symbolism is essentially alchemical. There is no religious tradition more overtly alchemical than that of Taoism; Taoist symbology is replete with alchemical themes and motifs. The octagon – and by extension all parallelisms of the number eight – signify regeneration. In the plain figure of the octagon – to explain it in its simplest terms - we see the square (earth) regenerating into the circle (heaven). In this sense it is preeminently number of the third term in the Great Triad of Chinese spiritual philosophy: man.

The present author has encountered this profusion of eightfold symbolism everywhere he goes in his journeys through the historic centres of the Malacca straits Chinese. Every temple, every clan house, and also every shop and private dwelling is marked by symbols of eight. Two orders of symbols are especially conspicuous: the eight trigrams of the I Ching, and the eight immortals of the Taoist pantheon. These feature in temples, but are also found on the mantels of private houses, over doorways, or in personal insignia. These are the two great instances of orders of eight in typical Taoist symbolism. Accordingly, they are often set in parallel. The eight trigrams are abstract and mathematical. The eight immortals are figures of fantastic mythology. One trigram belongs to each immortal and one immortal belongs to each trigram. 

The eight trigrams

The immortals call for a few extra comments. As a set they represent the following polarities: Male/Female, Old/Young, Rich/Poor, Noble/Humble. Their significance can be seen in the ‘Bridge of the Immortals’ display at the oldest of the Chinese temples in the old trading port of Phuket Town. The bridge illustrates four immortals on each side, and together they represent the bridge between mortal life and the immortal state which is the objective of Taoist spirituality. 

Four on each side of the bridge, the eight immortals are depicted seated on clouds. Clouds, in this context, signify the imaginal realm. The immortals are figures of the imaginal.  

That is, this symbol – the bridge – informs us, quite clearly, that the traditional hagiographies of the eight immortals, along with their accompanying iconography, is a body of knowledge that forms a bridge from one state to the other. The immortals – all of whom are supposed to have once been mortals, and all of whom attained immortality through various techniques or adventures which are the stuff of folklore and legend - are exemplars, paradigms of the Taoist path albeit rendered into fantastic forms. In other respects, they are the embodiment of the primal forces encapsulated in the eight abstract trigrams of the I Ching. 

The Eight Immortals are sometimes shown on a checkered floor, invoking, amongst other things, the (8 x 8) symbolism of the chessboard.

This symbolism, that is to say, spans from pure mathematical abstraction to the most fecund, elaborate folk mythology which needs to be understood as imaginal in the Corbinian sense. That is, the immortals are figures of the intermediate or imaginal realm. They are not gods in the fully celestial sense. They are mortals who have ascended to the imaginal world, usually symbolised by clouds (whereas the fully celestial realm is symbolized by stars.) Like imaginal figures in other traditions, they are often said to be still alive on earth or to visit earth in bodily form from time to time. The imaginal is of great importance in Taoist spirituality. Just as it is the most directly alchemical religious tradition, so Taoism is the most directly imaginal. It is a strongly visual tradition with an emphasis upon spiritual imagination. The group of Eight Immortals are the main denizens of the Taoist imaginal realm. 

The most popular depiction of the Eight Immortals in Chinese sacred art has them at sea, travelling by boat to the Conference of the Peach. Imaginal figures - beings of the imaginal realm - let us note, are invariably associated with the airy and watery elements. 

The Eight Immortals decorating the awning of a Chinese temple. 

The Eight immortals - postage stamps of Thailand.

The Eight Immortals as superheroes - from the Singaporean TV series. 

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Below, the pictures of the eight immortals are matched to the trigrams of the I Ching according to the customary arrangement. There is an elaborate folklore connected to each figure, and every motif in that folklore is explicable in terms of alchemical symbolism. To decode it, though, is a ponderous undertaking - it is a subject for later posts. Only the barest outlines are offered below. 

* * * 

LAN TSAI-HO 

A 'Holy Fool' figure and so directly cognate with the 'Fool' in the Tarot cards of the Occidental tradition. He became an immortal when he was sixteen years old. He represents the pure yang power - the phallic energy of spring. 

* * * 

HO HSIEN-KU 

Pure yin. She became an immortal at fourteen years old after eating the Peach of Immortality and ascending to heaven in full daylight. She attained the power of stopping her menses and thus conserving her feminine energy. Associated with herbs and healing, she is able to live of heavenly dew and pure chi. 

* * * 

ZHONGLI QUAN

Often counted as the chief of the Eight immortals, he is usually shown as fat bellied and scantily dressed. He was formerly an army general who took up residence as a hermit in a mountain cottage. One day, a stone wall in his dwelling collapsed, revealing a jade box that contained instructions on attaining immortality. During a great famine her transmuted copper and pewter into gold and silver to give to the poor. 

* * * 

LU TUNG-PIN 

Known to the Chinese as 'Ancestor Lu'. A friend to the poor and oppressed, he was a Confucian scholar who attained the secrets of immortality, lived 400 years on earth and reappears from time to time. 

* * *

CHANG KUO-LAO 

An old man and hermit. After he died and was buried, his coffin was found to be empty. He assists souls to reincarnate, so the Chinese place his image in bedrooms to help with the conception of children. 

* * *

HAN HSIEN-KU

He was expelled from a Boodhist temple for being rude and rowdy, but studied the Taoist arts and attained immortality. He was shown the top of the World Tree, fell from it but quickly revived himself. He carries a flute upon which he plays the Six Healing Sounds of Taoism. 

* * * 

TSAO KUO-CHIU 

One of two brothers, he was so ashamed that his brother was a murderer and a hedonist that he retired from the world to live as a hermit. One day, he met two of the immortals who were so impressed with his learning they invited him to join them. He plays casanets in a gentle rhythm wherever he goes. He is believed to still live on earth among mortals. 

* * * 

LI TIEH-KUAI 

Called 'Iron Crutch'. A beautiful but vain youth, his soul temporarily departed from his body but when it returned his disciples had cremated his body. He therefore occupied the form of a lame beggar who hobbles with an iron crutch. Cognate to various figures in European folklore and mythology and such figures as the lame smithy god Hephaestus in Greek mythology. Accordingly, his trigram is the element Fire. 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Lapis Lazuli

In a recent post on these pages – see here – we felt moved to defend the colour blue from those reckless deconstructionists who propagate the bogus assertion that people of earlier eras could not distinguish such a colour. The argument, we explained, is in large measure a linguistic one. One of the languages often cited in this regard is Chinese where the word qing refers to either blue or to green, which is to say that Chinese has no distinct word for blue (or for green). Instead, blue is usually regarded as a shade of green – or is it that green is regarded as a shade of blue? In any case, quite reasonably, the Chinese see blue and green on the same scale. We might also say that yellow and brown are on the same scale, or that red and orange are on the same scale. There is no justification for supposing that people could not see such colours, only that their mode of differentiating them, the words they use, is different to our own. 

In another recent post – see here – these pages also took occasion to celebrate the extensive use of the colour vermillion – or cinnabar – in the Chinese tradition, and especially in sacred contexts such as Taoist temples. Chinese red (vermillion) is not merely lucky to the Chinese, we explained, but actually sacred, and has attained this status from the strongly alchemical themes of the Chinese tradition.

In this current post we celebrate a special application of a shade of blue in the same tradition – the Chinese love of and extensive use of that rich shade of blue usually referred to as ultramarine but which is more accurately described as lapis lazuli, since it is from that semi-precious stone that the colour was traditionally derived. The stone has been mined in eastern Afghanistan for thousands of years and its use spread to China eastwards and to the Levant and ancient Egypt westwards along the great east/west trade routes. In this case, however, it is mainly associated with the Boodhist tradition in China, rather than Taoism, and so also features in Tibetan colour schemes. 

As the present author has remarked in recent posts, entering the Sino-Asiatic world brings one into contact with a flood of vermillion. But it also means encounters with lapis lazuli in the iconography and colourings of temples under Boodhist influence. It is not a colour that features in the temples of the Hindoos. We encounter it instead among the Tibetan Boodhists and then by extension throughout China. The Chinese, we must say, developed a particular love for it. It is a distinctly Chinese blue. 

The Boodha of healing is often shown in lapis lazuli, as above. 

Simplistic accounts will tell you that blue is the ‘colour of death’ in the Chinese tradition, and that it is counted as ‘unlucky’. This is clearly not the case for lapis lazuli (ultramarine) which is, rather, counted as celestial in its significance. It is a heavenly colour. Moreover, just as vermillion (cinnabar) is associated with gold mining, raw lapis lazuli is flecked with gold – like stars – which further underlines its celestial symbolism. In Christian iconography, the outer garment of the Virgin Mary where she is ‘Queen of Heaven’ is thus cast in ultramarine as well.

The pictures on this page are from the great Chinese Boodhist temple at Air Itam south of George Town on the Prince of Wales island. This is by far the largest and most opulent temple complex on Pe Nang. It is situated at a location at the foot of Pe Nang Hill that the Chinese have long regarded as having especially potent feng sui. 

Much of the temple – officially called Kek Lok Si – was initially funded by the illustrious XIXth century Chinese tycoon Cheong Fatt Tze, one of the most famous residents of George Town. His old estate is still extant and is now unofficially known locally as the ‘Blue Mansion’ since Mr Cheong had a particular love of lapis lazuli and painted his mansion accordingly. He had a deep and very Chinese love of this particular blue (even if it was referred to using the same word as green.) The traditional Chinese world features lapis lazuli. Ultramarine - symbolic of heaven - features in traditional Chinese colour symbolism. Readers can find pictures of the ‘Blue Mansion’ in George Town below. 

Finally, in yet another recent post - see here - these pages celebrated the work of Mr William Butler Yeats, describing him as one of the finest poets of the English language in the modern era. The subject of this present page gives us cause to recall one of his very finest poems, Lapis Lazuli, in which the poet contemplates a Chinese statue made of the stone, and which poem is reproduced for the edification of readers as follows:

I have heard that hysterical women say
They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow,
Of poets that are always gay,
For everybody knows or else should know
That if nothing drastic is done
Aeroplane and Zeppelin will come out,
Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in
Until the town lie beaten flat.

All perform their tragic play,
There struts Hamlet, there is Lear,
That's Ophelia, that Cordelia;
Yet they, should the last scene be there,
The great stage curtain about to drop,
If worthy their prominent part in the play,
Do not break up their lines to weep.
They know that Hamlet and Lear are gay;
Gaiety transfiguring all that dread.
All men have aimed at, found and lost;
Black out; Heaven blazing into the head:
Tragedy wrought to its uttermost.
Though Hamlet rambles and Lear rages,
And all the drop scenes drop at once
Upon a hundred thousand stages,
It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.

On their own feet they came, or on shipboard,
Camel-back, horse-back, ass-back, mule-back,
Old civilisations put to the sword.
Then they and their wisdom went to rack:
No handiwork of Callimachus
Who handled marble as if it were bronze,
Made draperies that seemed to rise
When sea-wind swept the corner, stands;
His long lamp chimney shaped like the stem
Of a slender palm, stood but a day;
All things fall and are built again
And those that build them again are gay.

Two Chinamen, behind them a third,
Are carved in Lapis Lazuli,
Over them flies a long-legged bird
A symbol of longevity;
The third, doubtless a serving-man,
Carries a musical instrument.

Every discolouration of the stone,
Every accidental crack or dent
Seems a water-course or an avalanche,
Or lofty slope where it still snows
Though doubtless plum or cherry-branch
Sweetens the little half-way house
Those Chinamen climb towards, and I
Delight to imagine them seated there;
There, on the mountain and the sky,
On all the tragic scene they stare.
One asks for mournful melodies;
Accomplished fingers begin to play.
Their eyes mid many wrinkles, their eyes,
Their ancient, glittering eyes, are gay.

* * * 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black