Positive Darkness
The Paintings of E. Thurston Belmer
by Claudia Avila
Thus darkness, shadow, and obscurity are not ordinary states of privation of luminosity
and light but are real entities which are called positive.
Athanasius Kircher, Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae (Rzepińka 111)
Introduction
Darkness is an autonomous entity in the paintings of E. Thurston Belmer. Luminosity accepts its place as a subdued antumbra behind the active beauty of the blackest eclipse which invites us to penetrate its obsidian luster. As we adjust the eye and mind to the dark, we are charged with apprehension, fear, fascination, and beauty. Territories of shadow buttress representational forms that assemble into enigmatic narratives and in their skillfully constructed compositions each event unfolds at the interior space of subjectivity. In that sense, the works of art are constructed to allude to mechanisms within and beyond themselves.
One of the most familiar manifestations of positive darkness is found in Baroque tenebrism, during which the stirrings of scientific inquiry, though still interwoven with metaphysics, reassessed shadows as positive entities through the advancements in seventeenth century optics and astronomy (Rzepińka 98, 100). This shift in the role and importance of shadow/darkness had an inevitable impact upon painting, contributing breadth to its visual lexicon. More recently, film noir aesthetics exploited the play of shadows as an emotive device within the picture plane. Belmer's work shows a familiarity with both traditions but he has invested the concept of positive darkness with renewed vigor for a contemporary audience. In his hands, shadows keep their positive roles and work in tandem with subdued color fields that contribute to an intentional gravitas which characterizes his oeuvre. Perhaps we find the dark oneiric realities contrast so well with our contemporary lifestyle marked by our habitual immersion in the cold equalizing light associated with “technological prosthesis” (Diodato 26). Technological prostheses extend the parameters of cursory knowledge but place the psyche into low relief, moving it ever closer toward a transparent one-dimensionality. In an era of the weightless virtual body, the gravitas of sensual artwork such as Belmer's helps us to maintain an ontology in equilibrium through an intimacy with the depths.
Belmer's work is replete with diverse but related themes stemming from his exploration of the “intersection between eroticism and death” (Belmer). Invented designs of light and dark welcome and challenge us to traverse paths beset by unpredictability in the engagement of Eros and Thanatos. His artwork is characteristically psychological, utilizing interior settings for most of the narratives and providing us with a sense of peering into the private rooms of the mind and heart. Uniting the observer and the scene, large canvases extend the physical presence of human bodies and heighten the immediacy of each event. The viewer's attention is seized by the enigmatic pictorial events, with their meanings gradually being offered up to one's understanding. We will focus on a few select works to illustrate some potential meanings that can be constructed from the different themes found within Belmer's paintings. We will look at how Pangloss addresses the theme of nascent individuation; To Make a Bed of Wood with its theme of sacrifice; Branches which explores mutual dissolution via eroticism; and Humilitas Occidet Superbiam as an emissary of wonder.
and light but are real entities which are called positive.
Athanasius Kircher, Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae (Rzepińka 111)
Introduction
Darkness is an autonomous entity in the paintings of E. Thurston Belmer. Luminosity accepts its place as a subdued antumbra behind the active beauty of the blackest eclipse which invites us to penetrate its obsidian luster. As we adjust the eye and mind to the dark, we are charged with apprehension, fear, fascination, and beauty. Territories of shadow buttress representational forms that assemble into enigmatic narratives and in their skillfully constructed compositions each event unfolds at the interior space of subjectivity. In that sense, the works of art are constructed to allude to mechanisms within and beyond themselves.
One of the most familiar manifestations of positive darkness is found in Baroque tenebrism, during which the stirrings of scientific inquiry, though still interwoven with metaphysics, reassessed shadows as positive entities through the advancements in seventeenth century optics and astronomy (Rzepińka 98, 100). This shift in the role and importance of shadow/darkness had an inevitable impact upon painting, contributing breadth to its visual lexicon. More recently, film noir aesthetics exploited the play of shadows as an emotive device within the picture plane. Belmer's work shows a familiarity with both traditions but he has invested the concept of positive darkness with renewed vigor for a contemporary audience. In his hands, shadows keep their positive roles and work in tandem with subdued color fields that contribute to an intentional gravitas which characterizes his oeuvre. Perhaps we find the dark oneiric realities contrast so well with our contemporary lifestyle marked by our habitual immersion in the cold equalizing light associated with “technological prosthesis” (Diodato 26). Technological prostheses extend the parameters of cursory knowledge but place the psyche into low relief, moving it ever closer toward a transparent one-dimensionality. In an era of the weightless virtual body, the gravitas of sensual artwork such as Belmer's helps us to maintain an ontology in equilibrium through an intimacy with the depths.
Belmer's work is replete with diverse but related themes stemming from his exploration of the “intersection between eroticism and death” (Belmer). Invented designs of light and dark welcome and challenge us to traverse paths beset by unpredictability in the engagement of Eros and Thanatos. His artwork is characteristically psychological, utilizing interior settings for most of the narratives and providing us with a sense of peering into the private rooms of the mind and heart. Uniting the observer and the scene, large canvases extend the physical presence of human bodies and heighten the immediacy of each event. The viewer's attention is seized by the enigmatic pictorial events, with their meanings gradually being offered up to one's understanding. We will focus on a few select works to illustrate some potential meanings that can be constructed from the different themes found within Belmer's paintings. We will look at how Pangloss addresses the theme of nascent individuation; To Make a Bed of Wood with its theme of sacrifice; Branches which explores mutual dissolution via eroticism; and Humilitas Occidet Superbiam as an emissary of wonder.
Pangloss. Oil on canvas; 198.12 x 304.8 cm (78″ x 120″).
Pangloss
Pangloss is a multi-figural scene arranged in a strong dynamic composition. We witness five individuals engaged in complex interactions with each other against a warm red background. A number of angular movements are created by the bent limbs of the figures. The array of angles contribute to the impression of strife especially when set against the red color field which bestows a fiery agitation to the scene. Belmer has a great ability for selecting facial expressions that support the narrative; he employs a measured naturalism that is foremost in the service of raw pathos. For this reason, the individuals which populate his canvases retain their enigmatic quality, neither descending into contrived melodramatic expressions nor sterile realism. In Pangloss, each face reveals a presence as intense and sincere as the ritual participants depicted on the walls of the Villa dei Misteri.
Activity revolves around the male figure who is standing in the middle of the darkly clad group. He is the only figure in the group who lacks clothing on his upper body and his flesh appears vulnerable to the intent of the hovering hands that surround him. His eyes are comfortably closed which might refer to his limited ability to empathize with the outside world or perhaps it indicates an intentional obliviousness. The pair of women on his right act as the chorus in
a tragedy and sing a song of lament as their bodies reel away from the violation they seem reluctant to witness. A male figure rises behind the silhouetted woman in the foreground. For some unclear reason, he forcefully stretches the mouth of the protagonist in a direction toward himself while holding something in between his thumb and index finger on the right hand. What does he intend to deposit into the open mouth of the protagonist? Will it perpetuate his passive state? The woman in the foreground looks defiantly over her shoulder in the direction of the viewer. Her warning expression lets us know that it is not permitted for us to intervene. Her right hand emerges from the background menacingly; fingers are clenched in an atrophied manner as her left hand creates a barrier between us and the protagonist's body. But instead of averting our attention away from the spectacle, this motion has the opposite effect by drawing in not only our attention but also sympathy toward the man's body. Our gaze ricochets between the violation occurring at the mouth to the inactive hand resting at the boundary of his waist. We are led out of this action by the intercepting movements of the other figures. During our pause, we spy the subtle line of a branch which hints at an existing sexual tension between the male and the female figure who stands in the foreground. This pathway between them, however, is interrupted by a perpendicular branch pointing upward. It has the resultant effect of creating an isolated triangular space where a blossoming flower sits alone; perhaps, alluding to a neglected emotional relationship.
An intriguing part of the visual narrative is the haptic communication taking place between the two male figures as well as with the protagonist and his own body. The areas of the body being referred to include the mouth, the heart, and the genital region. We should also note the implied or perhaps illusionistic touch created by the female's hand gesture in front of the male's stomach. In short, these particular regions of the body correspond to the Platonic metaphor of the tripartite soul where the head is the symbolic seat of calculation, the heart is the seat of spiritedness, and the stomach (and genitals) symbolizes appetitive motivations. As a method for gaining insight into the inner activity of the protagonist, it might prove helpful to reference this traditional metaphor; from there we will begin to relate to his predicament on a more personal level. In the metaphor of tripartition we recall that each aspect derives and desires pleasure from specific activities, and it has been pointed out that by virtue of their particular desires they are eroticized (Cooper 346-347). In his discussion on Platonic dialogue, Rhodes recognizes the tyrannical and salvific expressions of Eros and describes the erôtes as “...experienced movements in the soul” (Rhodes 546). The individual's proclivity for either one of the erôtes will orientate calculation, spiritedness, and motivational appetites toward the fulfillment of their associated desires. With this in mind, we embark on learning the motives of the protagonist.
The passivity demonstrated by the central figure is like the painting's namesake the complacent philosopher in Voltaire's novel Candide. Both in the novel and the painting, we find themes of violation, the choice between acquiescent or liberated thinking, and a call to individuation. In Belmer's Pangloss, the bare flesh of the central figure functions as a lighter shape amidst the darker surrounding masses. It draws our attention to the geography of the body and we become particularly attuned to the significance conveyed through haptic interactions. We feel the warm moisture of breath condensate upon the intruder's fingers. The recipient cannot be bothered to turn and face his intruder but neither does he resist the act. Closed eyes speak of blind faith and become symbolic of a dormant calculating faculty; as we look at the central figure we recognize one who has grown accustomed to falling back upon prefabricated knowledge rather than inspect the world. The fingers which press against his own heart act as sentries, ready to nip any intervening response or any protest from the spirit in the bud. In contrast to the tense hand at the heart, the relaxed fingers splayed over the groin give the impression that the appetitive motivations are given sovereignty. The woman's hand, in the visual vicinity of his stomach, highlights the appetitive motivations, reinforcing the impression that the protagonist is actually a complicit participant in the effort to divest his own mind of lucid judgment. In blissful expectation he consumes the vapid ideologies supplied to him by the equivocal male figure in the upper left quadrant of the work. It is tempting to view this figure and the protagonist as one in the same person, they are just too similar to be different. And the inclusion of this doppelgänger supports the impression that his ignorance is self-inflicted.
The frustration the viewer experiences at the sight of this spectacle of self-deception has an interesting effect. Belmer, through a deft command of composition, attention to gesture and facial expression, has succeeded in activating spiritedness in the heart of the viewer. It is spiritedness in the form of courage and inspiration that tempers the appetitive motivations. We become inspired to create alternative narratives of the scene due to our identification with the protagonist. The song of lament sung by the chorus transforms into a song of exuberance, the red color field shifts from a sensation of agitation into one of passion, and the menacing gestures become a dance of compassion. We might also reinterpret the woman's hand as moving toward the glass vessels on the table; they contain an opaque liquid reminiscent of the alchemical dew which is collected and transformed into a shade of white after purification. Three glasses, two of which are full, have been poured from the large flask and are set upon the table. Will this purifying substance counteract the poisonous effects of mentally stunting ideologies? If so, it will suture the internal split, symbolized by the two identical males, so that he will become less at odds with himself. It is possible that the third glass is intended for the woman, representing his anima, who will become united into him.
If the protagonist chooses to awaken the faculty of perception, a genesis of liberation from self-deception and soporific existence will begin. The process of individuation will orientate him away from suppressing his perception and avoiding the responsibility of his own judgment. This change is an indication that Eros is moving toward an authentic purpose. As such, the protagonist will be equipped with the epistemological tools to interact with reality, which is a process inextricably tied to the formation of an earned identity.
Pangloss is a multi-figural scene arranged in a strong dynamic composition. We witness five individuals engaged in complex interactions with each other against a warm red background. A number of angular movements are created by the bent limbs of the figures. The array of angles contribute to the impression of strife especially when set against the red color field which bestows a fiery agitation to the scene. Belmer has a great ability for selecting facial expressions that support the narrative; he employs a measured naturalism that is foremost in the service of raw pathos. For this reason, the individuals which populate his canvases retain their enigmatic quality, neither descending into contrived melodramatic expressions nor sterile realism. In Pangloss, each face reveals a presence as intense and sincere as the ritual participants depicted on the walls of the Villa dei Misteri.
Activity revolves around the male figure who is standing in the middle of the darkly clad group. He is the only figure in the group who lacks clothing on his upper body and his flesh appears vulnerable to the intent of the hovering hands that surround him. His eyes are comfortably closed which might refer to his limited ability to empathize with the outside world or perhaps it indicates an intentional obliviousness. The pair of women on his right act as the chorus in
a tragedy and sing a song of lament as their bodies reel away from the violation they seem reluctant to witness. A male figure rises behind the silhouetted woman in the foreground. For some unclear reason, he forcefully stretches the mouth of the protagonist in a direction toward himself while holding something in between his thumb and index finger on the right hand. What does he intend to deposit into the open mouth of the protagonist? Will it perpetuate his passive state? The woman in the foreground looks defiantly over her shoulder in the direction of the viewer. Her warning expression lets us know that it is not permitted for us to intervene. Her right hand emerges from the background menacingly; fingers are clenched in an atrophied manner as her left hand creates a barrier between us and the protagonist's body. But instead of averting our attention away from the spectacle, this motion has the opposite effect by drawing in not only our attention but also sympathy toward the man's body. Our gaze ricochets between the violation occurring at the mouth to the inactive hand resting at the boundary of his waist. We are led out of this action by the intercepting movements of the other figures. During our pause, we spy the subtle line of a branch which hints at an existing sexual tension between the male and the female figure who stands in the foreground. This pathway between them, however, is interrupted by a perpendicular branch pointing upward. It has the resultant effect of creating an isolated triangular space where a blossoming flower sits alone; perhaps, alluding to a neglected emotional relationship.
An intriguing part of the visual narrative is the haptic communication taking place between the two male figures as well as with the protagonist and his own body. The areas of the body being referred to include the mouth, the heart, and the genital region. We should also note the implied or perhaps illusionistic touch created by the female's hand gesture in front of the male's stomach. In short, these particular regions of the body correspond to the Platonic metaphor of the tripartite soul where the head is the symbolic seat of calculation, the heart is the seat of spiritedness, and the stomach (and genitals) symbolizes appetitive motivations. As a method for gaining insight into the inner activity of the protagonist, it might prove helpful to reference this traditional metaphor; from there we will begin to relate to his predicament on a more personal level. In the metaphor of tripartition we recall that each aspect derives and desires pleasure from specific activities, and it has been pointed out that by virtue of their particular desires they are eroticized (Cooper 346-347). In his discussion on Platonic dialogue, Rhodes recognizes the tyrannical and salvific expressions of Eros and describes the erôtes as “...experienced movements in the soul” (Rhodes 546). The individual's proclivity for either one of the erôtes will orientate calculation, spiritedness, and motivational appetites toward the fulfillment of their associated desires. With this in mind, we embark on learning the motives of the protagonist.
The passivity demonstrated by the central figure is like the painting's namesake the complacent philosopher in Voltaire's novel Candide. Both in the novel and the painting, we find themes of violation, the choice between acquiescent or liberated thinking, and a call to individuation. In Belmer's Pangloss, the bare flesh of the central figure functions as a lighter shape amidst the darker surrounding masses. It draws our attention to the geography of the body and we become particularly attuned to the significance conveyed through haptic interactions. We feel the warm moisture of breath condensate upon the intruder's fingers. The recipient cannot be bothered to turn and face his intruder but neither does he resist the act. Closed eyes speak of blind faith and become symbolic of a dormant calculating faculty; as we look at the central figure we recognize one who has grown accustomed to falling back upon prefabricated knowledge rather than inspect the world. The fingers which press against his own heart act as sentries, ready to nip any intervening response or any protest from the spirit in the bud. In contrast to the tense hand at the heart, the relaxed fingers splayed over the groin give the impression that the appetitive motivations are given sovereignty. The woman's hand, in the visual vicinity of his stomach, highlights the appetitive motivations, reinforcing the impression that the protagonist is actually a complicit participant in the effort to divest his own mind of lucid judgment. In blissful expectation he consumes the vapid ideologies supplied to him by the equivocal male figure in the upper left quadrant of the work. It is tempting to view this figure and the protagonist as one in the same person, they are just too similar to be different. And the inclusion of this doppelgänger supports the impression that his ignorance is self-inflicted.
The frustration the viewer experiences at the sight of this spectacle of self-deception has an interesting effect. Belmer, through a deft command of composition, attention to gesture and facial expression, has succeeded in activating spiritedness in the heart of the viewer. It is spiritedness in the form of courage and inspiration that tempers the appetitive motivations. We become inspired to create alternative narratives of the scene due to our identification with the protagonist. The song of lament sung by the chorus transforms into a song of exuberance, the red color field shifts from a sensation of agitation into one of passion, and the menacing gestures become a dance of compassion. We might also reinterpret the woman's hand as moving toward the glass vessels on the table; they contain an opaque liquid reminiscent of the alchemical dew which is collected and transformed into a shade of white after purification. Three glasses, two of which are full, have been poured from the large flask and are set upon the table. Will this purifying substance counteract the poisonous effects of mentally stunting ideologies? If so, it will suture the internal split, symbolized by the two identical males, so that he will become less at odds with himself. It is possible that the third glass is intended for the woman, representing his anima, who will become united into him.
If the protagonist chooses to awaken the faculty of perception, a genesis of liberation from self-deception and soporific existence will begin. The process of individuation will orientate him away from suppressing his perception and avoiding the responsibility of his own judgment. This change is an indication that Eros is moving toward an authentic purpose. As such, the protagonist will be equipped with the epistemological tools to interact with reality, which is a process inextricably tied to the formation of an earned identity.
To Make a Bed of Wood. Oil on canvas; 213.3 x 152.4 cm (84″ x 60″).
To Make a Bed of Wood
The pictorial space of To Make a Bed of Wood is dominated by the presence of a uniformed woman who looks fixedly at us. The energy that was being expended at the mental battlefront has finally reached its end, yet through her aches she still manages to feel apprehension about what is to come. Her body collapses upon a felled door that has become her improvised bed, its hardness cradling her exhaustion. Perhaps fatigue has made her numb to its hardness; or else, she endures this pain willingly? In the course of our discussion, this bed of wood will become an altar where we will witness a sacrifice.
There is something beckoning about her stare yet we hesitate to give her our aid. Unlike Pangloss, where the viewer assumed a spirited role in the transformation of the protagonist, in To Make a Bed of Wood there is an intuitive understanding that the individual alone must reconfigure the saturnine mood that comes with an overactive perception. Belmer creates a sense of anxiety, conveying the distraught demeanor of the woman through a carefully choreographed visual disorientation. The artist employs an oblique/canted angle as a compositional device thereby creating a point of view that is counter to the viewer's visual axis. This method functions to undermine the privileged vantage point of the viewer and furthers a feeling of confusion. We see forms slide and shapes turn while the stark tonal contrast between the woman and the white door creates a violent tension of inertness and activity. The diagonally moving light, originating from a source outside of the picture frame, bathes the figure from above and casts a heavy shadow. The parallel oblique edges of the white door contribute to a feeling of clockwise rotation whose vertiginous effects are barely counteracted by the anchoring shadow and a brace of conical vessels placed on her left.
A subtle nick on the surface of the door conveys a sense of past action; perhaps memories or regret afflict her mind. Our eyes follow the contour of the door's left edge that continues behind the body of the woman, dividing her in near perfect halves. The hard verticals belonging to the door's edge and its inner panels penetrate her body like skewers, communicating internal anguish that descends from habitual mental tyranny. It has resulted in alienating spiritedness and the appetitive motivations as can be seen from the segregating horizontals created by her belt and from the inner panels of the door. Her decision to proceed across the threshold will lead to restoring the coincidentia oppositorum. “It is not a question of seeing unity where there is no real contrariety, nor is it a question of forcing harmony by synthesizing resistant parties. Coincidence as a method issues from coincidences as a fact or condition of opposition that is resolved in and by infinity” (Bond 22). The last push of strength to continue beyond the end will be supplied by the heart, spiritedness.
Aside from the dialectical methodology of the coincidentia oppositorum, a complementary understanding of the marriage of opposites comes from a process orientated technique, or one that is alchemical in nature. “The transit from black to white via blue implies that blue always brings black with it...Blue bears traces of the mortificatio into the whitening” (Hillman 102). Hillman's statement makes sense both on a material level and symbolically. From the perspective of tetrachromatikón, or the Greek four-color palette, a white combined with a charcoal black will produce a relative blue. Viewed symbolically, the dark shadows correspond to the weight of what is carried in her identity and all that is knowable while the white door prefigures the intangible brilliance of noumenon. Following this line of thinking, the woman, in her dark blue uniform, embodies the mediating factor in the procession of the knowable toward noumenon. The uniform, as a vestige of identity carried from the black, represents the superficial husk of ego affiliations that will be abandoned whereas her essence, denoted by the blue, makes the unifying transit to white.
From her eyes flows the inevitable suffering of one undergoing self-sacrifice. This brings us to the concept of the World Tree which is indirectly brought up through the material specification of the bed, being wood, and its associated role. In Rúnatal of Konungsbók (Codex Regius) Óðinn willingly submits his whole being to a tortuous hanging from the World Tree, Yggdrasill, for the attainment of wisdom: “I know that I hung/ on a wind-swept tree/ nine entire nights,/ wounded with a spear,/ given to Odin,/ myself to myself,/ on that tree,/ of which no man knows/ of what roots it runs” (Lindow 248). This exchange, a ritual of reciprocity involving submission for wisdom, is a painfully drawn out ordeal that is deemed necessary to undergo. The white door, her bed of wood, reminds one of the white clay said to cover Yggdrasill. The intertwining cables by her head take on the image of the awaiting noose. She holds her hands to her abdomen as though wounded, a gesture which finds a correlation in the spear pierced body of Óðinn as he hung from the tree. The door, in Belmer's painting, is a contemporary manifestation of the archetypal tree of sacrifice.
For now, she has made the territory of wood and its boundary her domain but its inherent role is to act as passage. The liminal zone of her bed of wood cannot be a finality when it is destined to become a threshold of passage which will open through sacrifice. She finds herself on a bed of wood for a reason, so that it may act as an altar on which she sacrifices her fears and apprehensions, ultimately sacrificing herself to herself. In its normal vertical usage the door opens to a linear passage but in its felled state it gives access to the depths of being where one retrieves applicable wisdom.
The pictorial space of To Make a Bed of Wood is dominated by the presence of a uniformed woman who looks fixedly at us. The energy that was being expended at the mental battlefront has finally reached its end, yet through her aches she still manages to feel apprehension about what is to come. Her body collapses upon a felled door that has become her improvised bed, its hardness cradling her exhaustion. Perhaps fatigue has made her numb to its hardness; or else, she endures this pain willingly? In the course of our discussion, this bed of wood will become an altar where we will witness a sacrifice.
There is something beckoning about her stare yet we hesitate to give her our aid. Unlike Pangloss, where the viewer assumed a spirited role in the transformation of the protagonist, in To Make a Bed of Wood there is an intuitive understanding that the individual alone must reconfigure the saturnine mood that comes with an overactive perception. Belmer creates a sense of anxiety, conveying the distraught demeanor of the woman through a carefully choreographed visual disorientation. The artist employs an oblique/canted angle as a compositional device thereby creating a point of view that is counter to the viewer's visual axis. This method functions to undermine the privileged vantage point of the viewer and furthers a feeling of confusion. We see forms slide and shapes turn while the stark tonal contrast between the woman and the white door creates a violent tension of inertness and activity. The diagonally moving light, originating from a source outside of the picture frame, bathes the figure from above and casts a heavy shadow. The parallel oblique edges of the white door contribute to a feeling of clockwise rotation whose vertiginous effects are barely counteracted by the anchoring shadow and a brace of conical vessels placed on her left.
A subtle nick on the surface of the door conveys a sense of past action; perhaps memories or regret afflict her mind. Our eyes follow the contour of the door's left edge that continues behind the body of the woman, dividing her in near perfect halves. The hard verticals belonging to the door's edge and its inner panels penetrate her body like skewers, communicating internal anguish that descends from habitual mental tyranny. It has resulted in alienating spiritedness and the appetitive motivations as can be seen from the segregating horizontals created by her belt and from the inner panels of the door. Her decision to proceed across the threshold will lead to restoring the coincidentia oppositorum. “It is not a question of seeing unity where there is no real contrariety, nor is it a question of forcing harmony by synthesizing resistant parties. Coincidence as a method issues from coincidences as a fact or condition of opposition that is resolved in and by infinity” (Bond 22). The last push of strength to continue beyond the end will be supplied by the heart, spiritedness.
Aside from the dialectical methodology of the coincidentia oppositorum, a complementary understanding of the marriage of opposites comes from a process orientated technique, or one that is alchemical in nature. “The transit from black to white via blue implies that blue always brings black with it...Blue bears traces of the mortificatio into the whitening” (Hillman 102). Hillman's statement makes sense both on a material level and symbolically. From the perspective of tetrachromatikón, or the Greek four-color palette, a white combined with a charcoal black will produce a relative blue. Viewed symbolically, the dark shadows correspond to the weight of what is carried in her identity and all that is knowable while the white door prefigures the intangible brilliance of noumenon. Following this line of thinking, the woman, in her dark blue uniform, embodies the mediating factor in the procession of the knowable toward noumenon. The uniform, as a vestige of identity carried from the black, represents the superficial husk of ego affiliations that will be abandoned whereas her essence, denoted by the blue, makes the unifying transit to white.
From her eyes flows the inevitable suffering of one undergoing self-sacrifice. This brings us to the concept of the World Tree which is indirectly brought up through the material specification of the bed, being wood, and its associated role. In Rúnatal of Konungsbók (Codex Regius) Óðinn willingly submits his whole being to a tortuous hanging from the World Tree, Yggdrasill, for the attainment of wisdom: “I know that I hung/ on a wind-swept tree/ nine entire nights,/ wounded with a spear,/ given to Odin,/ myself to myself,/ on that tree,/ of which no man knows/ of what roots it runs” (Lindow 248). This exchange, a ritual of reciprocity involving submission for wisdom, is a painfully drawn out ordeal that is deemed necessary to undergo. The white door, her bed of wood, reminds one of the white clay said to cover Yggdrasill. The intertwining cables by her head take on the image of the awaiting noose. She holds her hands to her abdomen as though wounded, a gesture which finds a correlation in the spear pierced body of Óðinn as he hung from the tree. The door, in Belmer's painting, is a contemporary manifestation of the archetypal tree of sacrifice.
For now, she has made the territory of wood and its boundary her domain but its inherent role is to act as passage. The liminal zone of her bed of wood cannot be a finality when it is destined to become a threshold of passage which will open through sacrifice. She finds herself on a bed of wood for a reason, so that it may act as an altar on which she sacrifices her fears and apprehensions, ultimately sacrificing herself to herself. In its normal vertical usage the door opens to a linear passage but in its felled state it gives access to the depths of being where one retrieves applicable wisdom.
Branches. Oil on canvas.
Branches
Bodies lie in post coital listlessness and reflect upon the marvels of carnal experience. The lovers float in the ethereal light of mutating passions. Green, blue, silver-white shapes and blocks of shadow construct the setting. The artist, with a genuflecting heart, is exploring the erotic dimension of relationship and, in the process, reveals a spectrum of co-existent potentialities: from depersonalization to empathy; dissolution to unity; death to regeneration; rejection and acceptance; and animalistic to transcendent expressions. It is as much a confession as an ode to the volatile psychic and physical forces involved with birthing new energy in the wake of la petite mort.
We can only guess at what circumstances brought these two individuals together but it is clear, irrespective of the level of familiarity or alterity, that this exchange has resulted in an unexpected stirring, a rip, across their planes of identity. In focusing on the aftermath rather than the precursor to the act Belmer summons the body's own sensory nostalgia, causing the viewer to relate to the scene on a primal, involuntarily level. Any objective reading of the narrative is bound to walk in the shadow of the body's subjective memory.
In a gradual efflux, the burning urge of passions externalize themselves, tempering into a sobriety. Their bodies still feel the echo of rhythmic frictions, and continue to savor the generated moisture issued from skin and mouth in ritual imbibing. Bodily catharsis is followed by an abundance of mental, emotional, and physical aftermath that flashes in and out of depersonalization. The visual aftermath presents bodies, on their backs, separated as ejecta from the psychophysical impact of coital union. Perhaps it is our disruptive presence, as viewers, which hastens their return to self-consciousness? The woman's chest, the dwelling place of the heart, is wrapped in ebony lingerie, possibly hinting at the couple's urgent release of lust and/or her emotional distance. She uses the umbra surrounding her visage to conceal her gaze and make the mind inaccessible to us. Her abdomen and pudendum are silhouetted against a bright trapezoidal luminescence connoting dissipating ecstasy. But strong verticals, the spears of piercing thought, have already descended upon the sanctity of the silver-white glow. The thrust of her arm pushes the male away while a relaxed hand curls into itself signaling that the period of giving, exchange, and relating is over. Looking towards the male, we see that he is fragmented, his body appears dismembered by the shadows that accentuate his exposed chest. It is lit and arched in a sacrificial manner. It is less clear whether he sees us, his eyes seem to be looking beyond us, lost. The male is submerged in a green color field as if suspended in emotional aftermath. In spite of the lover's internal activity their bodies have developed a corpse-like disposition.
“For each man who regards it with awe, the corpse is the image of his own destiny” (Bataille 44) . La petite mort can distill its participants into metaphorical corpses. To some, the catatonic radiance could be mistaken for a glorification of the Freudian death drive but multivalent artwork tends to move beyond an initial fixation of the drives. The symbiotic relationship of erotic force and death may be stated as such, “Assenting to life even in death is a challenge to death...” (Bataille 23). Death, in this context, refers to mutual dissolution in the current of continuity instigated by erotic union. As a result, these lovers are molting out of the corpse of the old self. It is a reflex towards life out of decay. The idea of the corpse, insinuated or literal, carries with it the gravitas of mortality, “...for death takes on a new meaning, it becomes the consciousness of the finitude of existence that gives an infinite value to each instant...” (Hadot 68).
Belmer's Branches abstains from idealizing or deforming coital engagement. Its presentation verges on the innocent, willingly facing it for what it is, never shying away from its animal origin as an impulse from nature. We are reminded that nature encompasses the terrifying and the beautiful for the sake of its continuation as a living system. This does not mean a distrust of nature’s taking. There are opportunities to ready oneself for its giving. As Branches illustrates, shared erotic experience involves anti-structure and propagation, loss of identity in orgasmic dissolution and the regain of self in the coalescent aftermath. Lovers find themselves opening into another space where psychophysical lattices support the branching of flowering potentialities and where these trellises become the structures for future intimate growth and accessible ambrosia.
Bodies lie in post coital listlessness and reflect upon the marvels of carnal experience. The lovers float in the ethereal light of mutating passions. Green, blue, silver-white shapes and blocks of shadow construct the setting. The artist, with a genuflecting heart, is exploring the erotic dimension of relationship and, in the process, reveals a spectrum of co-existent potentialities: from depersonalization to empathy; dissolution to unity; death to regeneration; rejection and acceptance; and animalistic to transcendent expressions. It is as much a confession as an ode to the volatile psychic and physical forces involved with birthing new energy in the wake of la petite mort.
We can only guess at what circumstances brought these two individuals together but it is clear, irrespective of the level of familiarity or alterity, that this exchange has resulted in an unexpected stirring, a rip, across their planes of identity. In focusing on the aftermath rather than the precursor to the act Belmer summons the body's own sensory nostalgia, causing the viewer to relate to the scene on a primal, involuntarily level. Any objective reading of the narrative is bound to walk in the shadow of the body's subjective memory.
In a gradual efflux, the burning urge of passions externalize themselves, tempering into a sobriety. Their bodies still feel the echo of rhythmic frictions, and continue to savor the generated moisture issued from skin and mouth in ritual imbibing. Bodily catharsis is followed by an abundance of mental, emotional, and physical aftermath that flashes in and out of depersonalization. The visual aftermath presents bodies, on their backs, separated as ejecta from the psychophysical impact of coital union. Perhaps it is our disruptive presence, as viewers, which hastens their return to self-consciousness? The woman's chest, the dwelling place of the heart, is wrapped in ebony lingerie, possibly hinting at the couple's urgent release of lust and/or her emotional distance. She uses the umbra surrounding her visage to conceal her gaze and make the mind inaccessible to us. Her abdomen and pudendum are silhouetted against a bright trapezoidal luminescence connoting dissipating ecstasy. But strong verticals, the spears of piercing thought, have already descended upon the sanctity of the silver-white glow. The thrust of her arm pushes the male away while a relaxed hand curls into itself signaling that the period of giving, exchange, and relating is over. Looking towards the male, we see that he is fragmented, his body appears dismembered by the shadows that accentuate his exposed chest. It is lit and arched in a sacrificial manner. It is less clear whether he sees us, his eyes seem to be looking beyond us, lost. The male is submerged in a green color field as if suspended in emotional aftermath. In spite of the lover's internal activity their bodies have developed a corpse-like disposition.
“For each man who regards it with awe, the corpse is the image of his own destiny” (Bataille 44) . La petite mort can distill its participants into metaphorical corpses. To some, the catatonic radiance could be mistaken for a glorification of the Freudian death drive but multivalent artwork tends to move beyond an initial fixation of the drives. The symbiotic relationship of erotic force and death may be stated as such, “Assenting to life even in death is a challenge to death...” (Bataille 23). Death, in this context, refers to mutual dissolution in the current of continuity instigated by erotic union. As a result, these lovers are molting out of the corpse of the old self. It is a reflex towards life out of decay. The idea of the corpse, insinuated or literal, carries with it the gravitas of mortality, “...for death takes on a new meaning, it becomes the consciousness of the finitude of existence that gives an infinite value to each instant...” (Hadot 68).
Belmer's Branches abstains from idealizing or deforming coital engagement. Its presentation verges on the innocent, willingly facing it for what it is, never shying away from its animal origin as an impulse from nature. We are reminded that nature encompasses the terrifying and the beautiful for the sake of its continuation as a living system. This does not mean a distrust of nature’s taking. There are opportunities to ready oneself for its giving. As Branches illustrates, shared erotic experience involves anti-structure and propagation, loss of identity in orgasmic dissolution and the regain of self in the coalescent aftermath. Lovers find themselves opening into another space where psychophysical lattices support the branching of flowering potentialities and where these trellises become the structures for future intimate growth and accessible ambrosia.
Humilitas Occidit Superbiam. Oil on canvas; 198.1 x 175.2 cm (78″ x 69″).
Humilitas Occidet Superbiam
Branches prepared us for the process of dissolution where we met it in its mostly passive aspect. In Humilitas Occidet Superbiam, or Humility Conquers Pride, we face dissolution and trajectory themes in all their challenging power. The eternal sphinx, as woman, is caretaker of the process. Seated hieratically within the picture plane, her presence is enveloping, monolithic, and regal. It requires unfaltering courage to maintain one's gaze with this sphinx as we patiently await her riddle.
She is nothing less than an activated icon of feminine force. So compelling is her presence that we are very nearly seduced into believing that she was ushered into existence fully formed as an acheiropoieton, or an image “made without hands.” Every subordinate element in the painting is arranged to augment her presence. The spiraling cord and the reflected light on the varnished floor open up the space before her, giving more visual distance from which to approach her. The furniture she is seated on is the cube of matter, a symbol of the world, making her appear as a matriarch on a throne. But there is another plausible association that emerges and links her iconography with Plato's charioteer. The cube, with its black and white decorated fabric, is analogous to the vehicle of the chariot with its accompanying winged black and white stallions. Taken this way, we encounter another metaphor for the soul; that is, the chariot with its stallions representing spiritedness and appetitive motivations which are harmonized and directed by the charioteer who symbolizes calculation. It's worth noting that the woman sits slightly off center in an invitation or challenge to us to take her place on the cube. Her gloved hands have relinquished the invisible reins of the chariot for us to regain. A bare foot gracefully dips its toes into the light and touches the semi-reflective floor. With a foot dipped in light and the other in shadow, she is effecting a synthesis of the dark and the light, obliterating any disruptive schism. Though comfortable in her pose, her erect posture demonstrates that she is prepared to respond in action should she judge it necessary.
If we elect to sit on the cube we assume the responsibility of the charioteer and experience the success and failure of maintaining the chariot's course. Moments of helplessness and unavoidable struggle during the process of mastering the chariot will effectively dash out our hubris; it is the event in which humility conquers pride. On another level of interpretation, the black and white pattern reminds us of the tendency to fall easily in the direction of dualistic thinking, that is more often than not, left to grow overconfident. In this view, one may see anima mundi asserting her relevance beyond the closed horizon of dualisms.
As an avatar of the soul's architecture, this space acts as an adyton, housing this splendid idol and, in a break with tradition, making her visible to all eyes. She who rises out of dark masses is likewise an extension of them to which her black uniform will attest. In this dark fertile soil we will lay some part of ourselves to rest for she is capable of functioning as a terminus as well as a begetter. The left hand rests on her pudendum, drawing our attention to the generative and initiating aspect. Placing the back of her right hand on a voluptuous hip and completing the formation of a loop, she transforms the negative space into a portal through which can be seen the white drapery of the curtains. In the manner of a priestess, she will teach us how to earn passage through her and to pull back the veils which are, interestingly enough, placed behind her. Bronze circular buttons decorate the uniform, resembling tarnished suns beside the strength of her primordial radiance.
Hitherto, we have examined darkness as a positive entity. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam is consistent with this pictorial device; however, lux, lumen, and splendor are now more equally allied to umbra and play a stronger pictorial role. Jonathan Miller, making a reference to medieval optics, defines these terms in the following way: “Lux referred to the brilliantly visible source of light emitted from incandescent bodies such as the sun, flame and white-hot metal. Lumen was the invisible form assumed by light in transit. When reflected, or rather scattered, from a matt surface it resumed visibility in a form which they identified as color. But when the light was reflected from a lustrous surface, it gave off splendor” (Miller 24). There are four indications of light in this painting. The first is the warm incandescent lux visibly located in the open cubicle space within the vertical cabinet. The second is the cool lumen that gently cascades over the scene originating from an unseen light source above. Third, the splendor off of the reflective surfaces. And the fourth is an interesting allusion to light, that is, the concealed luminescence that exists behind the white drapery. The curvature of the woman's hand resting at her hip subtly guides the eye toward the triangular opening in the fabric as if one must enter the darkness to view the light: “In the deep dark he alone sees the light”(Merton 73). Perhaps, parting the curtain will be the epiphany in our conference with the sphinx.
Near the drapery are two lustrous vessels on each side of the seated figure. These small reflective worlds remind us of the important distinction between simulacrum and the unremitting quest for the true reality. Acting as convex mirrors, these small silver domes reveal to the viewer areas of their environment that would not be possible to see concurrently. In this instance, it reveals the proximity of a black doorway that might possibly be the entrance. Through this visual information, we discover that apart from the woman there is no other detectable occupant. If we use the horizon line which is situated at her chest, we can more or less reconstruct where the observer should be situated. In a playful manipulation of reality, the viewer is paradoxically in the room and yet absent; the specter of the dark recess lies behind the observer while the artist has also effaced himself from the reflections. It would be reasonable to conclude that it was a pragmatic decision on the part of the artist not to draw attention away from the main figure, but, admittedly, one cannot help but feel that there is another level to this decision. Belmer is one of those exceptional artists who can successfully create poetical titles to accompany his paintings in a marriage of word and image. The omission of any overt symbol of the individual is congruent with the title of the painting by pointing out the importance of the philosophical exercise of changing perspectives through a temporary relinquishing of the ego.
Of the various nuanced meanings of gnōthi sauton, “know the limits of your wisdom” (Wilkins 41) has application in the realization of humility. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam is refreshingly declarative in its purpose. Indeed, this particular work of art is the vehicle for awakening the mind to abstract forms. In terms of gravitas, it has a monolithic conceptual presence with the additional ability of being an articulate portal out of which pours forth the sphinx's breath who generously reminds us of the limits of what we know. With the dissolution of hubris, the neglected sense of wonder begins to resurface. As Ian Bogost has pointed out, “...wonder has been all but eviscerated in modern thought, left behind as a naïve delusion” (124). Reintroducing the vital role that the experience of wonder and awe play in the spectrum of being cultivates an appreciation for living. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam possesses an evocative force that proves to be a catalyst for wonder which serves as an integral component in the opening of one's perception, to use Fazang's metaphor, of Indra's jeweled net of existence. The humility which is deeply felt in the experience of wonder is neither a defeatist position reveling in pitiful weakness nor is it an emblem of fear that shrinks the spirit. A recount of the experience of wonder comes from Lucretius, the Epicurean/Atomist, when he states: “There upon from all these things a sort of divine delight gets hold/ upon me and a shuddering, because nature thus by your power has/ been so manifestly laid open and uncovered in every part” (Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, 3.28-30).
Conclusion
A strong impulse toward a genuine examination of psychological reality permeates the work of E. Thurston Belmer. Scenes are usually set within interior spaces for the playing out of private psychological events within oneself or between individuals. Visual elements are skillfully arranged in these contained settings and instigate a deliberate confrontation with otherwise hidden or glossed over facets of being. Belmer's paintings address the ontological possibilities embedded in those places where the vectors of death and eroticism intersect. Through the use of his obsidian mirror we are given access to alternate perspectives. In this way, Belmer's psychological narratives reach the center of the umbra as well as engage it as an active entity on its own terms. As a result of the inspired deployment of elegant compositions and his use of positive darkness we confront a stream of sensations and thoughts with a concomitant dissolution, refinement, or transmutation of these into some other force that comes with each level of advancement into the pictorial narrative. Therefore, the spectacle of each narrative contains the seeds for future action, the viewer’s creative responses will somewhere be applied to the ensemble of life. We experience the state of humilitas as a condition for establishing a receptivity to the wondrous. By immersing the viewer in themes relating to eroticism and death Belmer harnesses their riveting potential as a means of unleashing us into the experience of the “divine shudder.”
Bibliography
Bataille, Georges. Eroticism: Death & Sensuality. San Francisco: City Lights Publishers, 1986.
Belmer, E. Thurston. Home. Web. May 2015. http://www.ethurstonbelmer.com/
Bogost, Ian. Alien Phenomenology or What It's Like to Be a Thing. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012.
Bond, Lawrence H. Nicholas of Cusa: Selected Spiritual Writings. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1997.
Conard, Mark T. The Philosophy of Film Noir. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2005.
Cooper, Laurence D. “Beyond the Tripartite Soul: The Dynamic Psychology of the Republic,” The Review of Politics, Vol. 63. No. 2 (Spring. 2001). pp. 341-372.
Diodato, Roberto. Aesthetics of the Virtual. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012.
Grau, Oliver. Virtual Art: From Illusion to Immersion. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003.
Hadot, Pierre. Philosophy as a Way of Life. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2005.
Hillman, James. “Alchemical Blue and the Unio Mentalis,” Alchemical Psychology: Uniform Edition, Vol. 5. Putnam: Spring Publications, 2010. 97-124.
Lindow, John. Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.
Lucretius. De Rerum Natura. Translated by W. H. D. Rouse. Revised by Martin F. Smith. Loeb Classical Library 181. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1924.
http://www.loebclassics.com/view/lucretius-de_rerum_natura/1924/pb_LCL181.191.xml
Merton, Thomas. The Way of Chuang Tzu. New York: New Directions, 1965.
Miller, Jonathan. On Reflection. London: National Gallery Publications, 1998.
Parsons, Howard L. “A Philosophy of Wonder,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. 30, No. 1 (1969), pp.84-101.
Rhodes, James M. Eros, Wisdom, and Silence: Plato's Erotic Dialogues. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2003.
Rzepińka, Maria and Krystyna Malcharek. “Tenebrism in Baroque Painting and Its Ideological Background,” Artibus et Historiae, Vol. 7, No. 13 (1986), pp. 91-112.
Sigurðsson, Gísli, et al. “Hávamál.” Handritin Heima. Stofnun Árna Magnússonar í íslenskum fræðum. Web. 22 May 2015. http://www.handritinheima.is/sagan/sogusvidid/havamal.htm
Voltaire. Candide. New York: Boni & Liveright, 1918. https://archive.org/details/Candide_887
Wilkins, Eliza Gregory. “Know Thyself” In Greek and Latin Literature. Menasha: George Banta Publishing, 1917. https://archive.org/details/knowthyselfingr00wilkgoog
Branches prepared us for the process of dissolution where we met it in its mostly passive aspect. In Humilitas Occidet Superbiam, or Humility Conquers Pride, we face dissolution and trajectory themes in all their challenging power. The eternal sphinx, as woman, is caretaker of the process. Seated hieratically within the picture plane, her presence is enveloping, monolithic, and regal. It requires unfaltering courage to maintain one's gaze with this sphinx as we patiently await her riddle.
She is nothing less than an activated icon of feminine force. So compelling is her presence that we are very nearly seduced into believing that she was ushered into existence fully formed as an acheiropoieton, or an image “made without hands.” Every subordinate element in the painting is arranged to augment her presence. The spiraling cord and the reflected light on the varnished floor open up the space before her, giving more visual distance from which to approach her. The furniture she is seated on is the cube of matter, a symbol of the world, making her appear as a matriarch on a throne. But there is another plausible association that emerges and links her iconography with Plato's charioteer. The cube, with its black and white decorated fabric, is analogous to the vehicle of the chariot with its accompanying winged black and white stallions. Taken this way, we encounter another metaphor for the soul; that is, the chariot with its stallions representing spiritedness and appetitive motivations which are harmonized and directed by the charioteer who symbolizes calculation. It's worth noting that the woman sits slightly off center in an invitation or challenge to us to take her place on the cube. Her gloved hands have relinquished the invisible reins of the chariot for us to regain. A bare foot gracefully dips its toes into the light and touches the semi-reflective floor. With a foot dipped in light and the other in shadow, she is effecting a synthesis of the dark and the light, obliterating any disruptive schism. Though comfortable in her pose, her erect posture demonstrates that she is prepared to respond in action should she judge it necessary.
If we elect to sit on the cube we assume the responsibility of the charioteer and experience the success and failure of maintaining the chariot's course. Moments of helplessness and unavoidable struggle during the process of mastering the chariot will effectively dash out our hubris; it is the event in which humility conquers pride. On another level of interpretation, the black and white pattern reminds us of the tendency to fall easily in the direction of dualistic thinking, that is more often than not, left to grow overconfident. In this view, one may see anima mundi asserting her relevance beyond the closed horizon of dualisms.
As an avatar of the soul's architecture, this space acts as an adyton, housing this splendid idol and, in a break with tradition, making her visible to all eyes. She who rises out of dark masses is likewise an extension of them to which her black uniform will attest. In this dark fertile soil we will lay some part of ourselves to rest for she is capable of functioning as a terminus as well as a begetter. The left hand rests on her pudendum, drawing our attention to the generative and initiating aspect. Placing the back of her right hand on a voluptuous hip and completing the formation of a loop, she transforms the negative space into a portal through which can be seen the white drapery of the curtains. In the manner of a priestess, she will teach us how to earn passage through her and to pull back the veils which are, interestingly enough, placed behind her. Bronze circular buttons decorate the uniform, resembling tarnished suns beside the strength of her primordial radiance.
Hitherto, we have examined darkness as a positive entity. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam is consistent with this pictorial device; however, lux, lumen, and splendor are now more equally allied to umbra and play a stronger pictorial role. Jonathan Miller, making a reference to medieval optics, defines these terms in the following way: “Lux referred to the brilliantly visible source of light emitted from incandescent bodies such as the sun, flame and white-hot metal. Lumen was the invisible form assumed by light in transit. When reflected, or rather scattered, from a matt surface it resumed visibility in a form which they identified as color. But when the light was reflected from a lustrous surface, it gave off splendor” (Miller 24). There are four indications of light in this painting. The first is the warm incandescent lux visibly located in the open cubicle space within the vertical cabinet. The second is the cool lumen that gently cascades over the scene originating from an unseen light source above. Third, the splendor off of the reflective surfaces. And the fourth is an interesting allusion to light, that is, the concealed luminescence that exists behind the white drapery. The curvature of the woman's hand resting at her hip subtly guides the eye toward the triangular opening in the fabric as if one must enter the darkness to view the light: “In the deep dark he alone sees the light”(Merton 73). Perhaps, parting the curtain will be the epiphany in our conference with the sphinx.
Near the drapery are two lustrous vessels on each side of the seated figure. These small reflective worlds remind us of the important distinction between simulacrum and the unremitting quest for the true reality. Acting as convex mirrors, these small silver domes reveal to the viewer areas of their environment that would not be possible to see concurrently. In this instance, it reveals the proximity of a black doorway that might possibly be the entrance. Through this visual information, we discover that apart from the woman there is no other detectable occupant. If we use the horizon line which is situated at her chest, we can more or less reconstruct where the observer should be situated. In a playful manipulation of reality, the viewer is paradoxically in the room and yet absent; the specter of the dark recess lies behind the observer while the artist has also effaced himself from the reflections. It would be reasonable to conclude that it was a pragmatic decision on the part of the artist not to draw attention away from the main figure, but, admittedly, one cannot help but feel that there is another level to this decision. Belmer is one of those exceptional artists who can successfully create poetical titles to accompany his paintings in a marriage of word and image. The omission of any overt symbol of the individual is congruent with the title of the painting by pointing out the importance of the philosophical exercise of changing perspectives through a temporary relinquishing of the ego.
Of the various nuanced meanings of gnōthi sauton, “know the limits of your wisdom” (Wilkins 41) has application in the realization of humility. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam is refreshingly declarative in its purpose. Indeed, this particular work of art is the vehicle for awakening the mind to abstract forms. In terms of gravitas, it has a monolithic conceptual presence with the additional ability of being an articulate portal out of which pours forth the sphinx's breath who generously reminds us of the limits of what we know. With the dissolution of hubris, the neglected sense of wonder begins to resurface. As Ian Bogost has pointed out, “...wonder has been all but eviscerated in modern thought, left behind as a naïve delusion” (124). Reintroducing the vital role that the experience of wonder and awe play in the spectrum of being cultivates an appreciation for living. Humilitas Occidet Superbiam possesses an evocative force that proves to be a catalyst for wonder which serves as an integral component in the opening of one's perception, to use Fazang's metaphor, of Indra's jeweled net of existence. The humility which is deeply felt in the experience of wonder is neither a defeatist position reveling in pitiful weakness nor is it an emblem of fear that shrinks the spirit. A recount of the experience of wonder comes from Lucretius, the Epicurean/Atomist, when he states: “There upon from all these things a sort of divine delight gets hold/ upon me and a shuddering, because nature thus by your power has/ been so manifestly laid open and uncovered in every part” (Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, 3.28-30).
Conclusion
A strong impulse toward a genuine examination of psychological reality permeates the work of E. Thurston Belmer. Scenes are usually set within interior spaces for the playing out of private psychological events within oneself or between individuals. Visual elements are skillfully arranged in these contained settings and instigate a deliberate confrontation with otherwise hidden or glossed over facets of being. Belmer's paintings address the ontological possibilities embedded in those places where the vectors of death and eroticism intersect. Through the use of his obsidian mirror we are given access to alternate perspectives. In this way, Belmer's psychological narratives reach the center of the umbra as well as engage it as an active entity on its own terms. As a result of the inspired deployment of elegant compositions and his use of positive darkness we confront a stream of sensations and thoughts with a concomitant dissolution, refinement, or transmutation of these into some other force that comes with each level of advancement into the pictorial narrative. Therefore, the spectacle of each narrative contains the seeds for future action, the viewer’s creative responses will somewhere be applied to the ensemble of life. We experience the state of humilitas as a condition for establishing a receptivity to the wondrous. By immersing the viewer in themes relating to eroticism and death Belmer harnesses their riveting potential as a means of unleashing us into the experience of the “divine shudder.”
Bibliography
Bataille, Georges. Eroticism: Death & Sensuality. San Francisco: City Lights Publishers, 1986.
Belmer, E. Thurston. Home. Web. May 2015. http://www.ethurstonbelmer.com/
Bogost, Ian. Alien Phenomenology or What It's Like to Be a Thing. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012.
Bond, Lawrence H. Nicholas of Cusa: Selected Spiritual Writings. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1997.
Conard, Mark T. The Philosophy of Film Noir. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2005.
Cooper, Laurence D. “Beyond the Tripartite Soul: The Dynamic Psychology of the Republic,” The Review of Politics, Vol. 63. No. 2 (Spring. 2001). pp. 341-372.
Diodato, Roberto. Aesthetics of the Virtual. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2012.
Grau, Oliver. Virtual Art: From Illusion to Immersion. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003.
Hadot, Pierre. Philosophy as a Way of Life. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2005.
Hillman, James. “Alchemical Blue and the Unio Mentalis,” Alchemical Psychology: Uniform Edition, Vol. 5. Putnam: Spring Publications, 2010. 97-124.
Lindow, John. Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.
Lucretius. De Rerum Natura. Translated by W. H. D. Rouse. Revised by Martin F. Smith. Loeb Classical Library 181. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1924.
http://www.loebclassics.com/view/lucretius-de_rerum_natura/1924/pb_LCL181.191.xml
Merton, Thomas. The Way of Chuang Tzu. New York: New Directions, 1965.
Miller, Jonathan. On Reflection. London: National Gallery Publications, 1998.
Parsons, Howard L. “A Philosophy of Wonder,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. 30, No. 1 (1969), pp.84-101.
Rhodes, James M. Eros, Wisdom, and Silence: Plato's Erotic Dialogues. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2003.
Rzepińka, Maria and Krystyna Malcharek. “Tenebrism in Baroque Painting and Its Ideological Background,” Artibus et Historiae, Vol. 7, No. 13 (1986), pp. 91-112.
Sigurðsson, Gísli, et al. “Hávamál.” Handritin Heima. Stofnun Árna Magnússonar í íslenskum fræðum. Web. 22 May 2015. http://www.handritinheima.is/sagan/sogusvidid/havamal.htm
Voltaire. Candide. New York: Boni & Liveright, 1918. https://archive.org/details/Candide_887
Wilkins, Eliza Gregory. “Know Thyself” In Greek and Latin Literature. Menasha: George Banta Publishing, 1917. https://archive.org/details/knowthyselfingr00wilkgoog