Political Rites: Initiating Art

In recent news, the New York Times reports: “Possible Nazi Theme of Grand Prix Boss’s Orgy Draws Calls to Quit” (www.nytimes.com, 4/7/08). Having read only twelve words I know that this article is not entertaining gossip, but challenging theory. What is a Nazi Theme? Is it possible to combine Nazism with Orgies? Is this an article about social or personal psychology? Beyond the title, the article proves even more provocative. The “Grand Prix Boss” is also Max Mosley, the “younger son of Britain’s 1930’s fascist leader, Sir Oswald Mosley, and the society beauty Diana Mitford, whose secret wedding in Berlin in October 1936 was held at the home of the Nazi propaganda chief, Joseph Goebbels and included Hitler as a guest of honor.”  Immediately, without any details of what occurred at the actual “orgy,” it is easy to conclude that the “Nazi Theme” is Mr. Mosley himself, who was finally caught revealing his true fascist nature. However, the presumptive response is shortsighted and relies on the same reductionist theory of essence that led to the persecution of the Jews during the Third Reich. Details of the orgy as provided by the New York Times include:

[T]wo of the women wore black-and-white striped robes in the style of prisoners’ uniforms. The video showed Mr. Mosley counting in german –“Eins! Zwei! Drei! Vier! Funf!”-as he used a leather strap to lash one of the women.“She needs more of ze punishment!” he cried in German-accented English. One woman appeared to search his hair for lice, while another called off items on an inspection list. Mr. Mosley, naked, was bound facedown and lashed more than 20 times.

This is all the evidence the newspaper provides to inform the public of how Mr. Mosley’s orgy was “Nazi Themed.” Where are the uniforms? Swastikas? Salutes? The session (as relayed by the New York Times) incorporates sadomasochistic behavior with limited German language, prisoner uniforms, and prison role-playing.

In defense of his behavior, Mr. Mosley argues “he spoke German during the sex-and-bondage session because two of the women involved were Germans, not to engage in Nazi role playing.” In addition, he also states “the garb worn by the women was ‘American convict uniforms,’” and as dismissing the Nazi allegations by saying, “The scenario was more Alcatraz than Auschwitz.”  In addition, it is important to note that all the behavior was legal and consensual. While there is no question that Mr. Mosley participated in a sadomasochistic orgy, there are doubts as to whether or not the orgy had a “Nazi Theme.” Here is the critical point of departure, where tabloid revelations become theoretical debates. In Susan Sontag’s 1974 essay, “Fascinating Fascism,” she discusses the appeal of fetishizing SS Regalia (which is without doubt a “Nazi Theme”):

[T]he perennial Englishman in a brothel being whipped is re-creating an experience. He is paying a whore to act out a piece of theater with him, to reenact or revoke the past—experiences of his schooldays or nursery which now hold for him a huge reserve of sexual energy. Today it may be the Nazi past that people invoke, in the theatricalization of sexuality, because it is those images (rather than memories) from which they hope a reserve of sexual energy can be tapped. What the French call “the English vice” could, however, be said to be something of an artful affirmation of individuality; the playlet referred, after all, to the subject’s own case history. The fad for Nazi regalia indicates something quite different: a response to an oppressive freedom of choice in sex (and in other matters), to an unbearable degree of individuality; the rehearsal of enslavement rather than its reenactment. (325)

While it is unclear whether or not the accoutrements of Mr. Mosley’s orgy were Nazi inspired, Sontag’s exploration of the relationship between sexuality and repression as it may be acted out through theatrical fascism is important. Regardless of whether Mr. Mosley’s actions were motivated by sexual gratification and/or psychological catharsis, the situation is complicated because Mr. Mosley’s lineage is sided with the oppressor, rather than with the oppressed. It is also likely that, having been raised by fascist British parents, Mr. Mosley may have many personal issues with repression and is struggling to channel these repressions in a constructive manner that include both sadistic and masochistic behavior. However, Mr. Mosley’s actions too closely resemble the oppressive, fascist fantasy of Hitler, and supercede personal psychology by collective values. The public’s reaction is strong and clear: while it is okay that Mr. Mosley’s personal behaviors are not accepted by mainstream sexuality standards, it is not acceptable for him to re-enact a violently oppressive political regime. In the public’s eye, Mr. Mosley’s behavior is ritualistically evoking the crimes of the Nazi party. Situations, like the one that surrounds Mr. Mosley, are important because they allow us to explore the emotional power that rituals provoke throughout a society. How is it that a private psycho-sexual encounter has the power to create outrage? In answering this question, it is critical that an understanding of the relationship between ritual, politics, and aesthetics be established.

While Nazi Germany and the Third Reich may be called many things, they are first a political party. The essential goal of a political party is to obtain power to influence the fate of a community. Theoretically, Democracy holds that the majority should be the deciders, while Fascism asserts that one individual should decide for the majority. In Catherine Bell’s article, “Basic Genres of Ritual Action,” she discusses political rites:

In general, political rites define power in a two-dimensional way: first, they use symbols and symbolic action to depict a group of people as a coherent and ordered community based on shared values and goals; second, they demonstrate the legitimacy of these values and goals by establishing their iconicity with the perceived values and order of the cosmos. (129)

Bell is stating that the power of political rites is focused on “symbols and symbolic action” forming a community that can then relate to a “higher power.” A bridge must be built between the higher authority, the symbol of political power, and the individual. While the initial construction is focused outward, the goal is to create a “connection” with the cosmos that will make it seem that the cosmos initiated the structure, rather than the other way around. Bell states, “It is through ritual, however, that those claiming power demonstrate how their interests are in the natural, real, or fruitful order of things” (129). How can one make a political party seem to be the natural path of a people? “When ritual is the principal medium by which power relationships are constructed, the power is usually perceived as coming from sources beyond the immediate control of the human community” (129). Bell’s statement is very important. In politics, rituals may create an authority beyond the control of a community. Ideally, the political party is expected to represent the interests of the community. However, if this is not so, political power is able to manipulate the community toward other goals. The success of political rites in bonding a group of people together depends on the strength of engagement. Symbols consolidate identification to embody the conscious and unconscious collective identity desires of a community. The artistic work of Leni Riefenstahl during the Third Reich demonstrates the power of symbols in political rites.

Celebrated as the poster-girl of Germany, Leni Riefenstahl shaped the public image of the ideal Aryan through her performances and productions. A biographer of Riefenstahl, Jurgen Trimborn describes her work and political affiliation throughout her 101 years of life. Her career began as a dancer and her work focuses on the aesthetics of the body throughout its entirety. Her networking efforts led her to become friends with Adolph Hitler shortly before he came into political power. Her friendship with Hitler provided her with abundant patronage. Her skills as artistic cinematographer were recruited to both document and artistically render the cultural climate of the time. Her film Triumph of the Will is a montage of a military rally at Nuremburg that was figure- headed by Hitler and his philosophy of a united, pure, Germany. Olympia features beautiful bodies committing astounding athletic feats during the 1936 Olympics that took place in Germany. Riefenstahl’s artistic eye had never been doubted.  However, her fusion of art and politics is frequently described as propaganda. Returning to Bell’s description of political rites, Bell emphasizes that it is important to have “symbols and symbolic action to depict a group of people as a coherent and ordered community based on shared values and goals” (129). Without a doubt, Riefenstahl created a symbolic image that mirrored the philosophy of Hitler’s regime. Sontag describes Riefenstahl’s work as “evoking some of the larger themes of Nazi ideology: the contrast between the clean and the impure, the incorruptible and the defiles, the physical and the mental, the joyful and the critical” (314). The aesthetic perfection of Riefenstahl’s portrayals provides evidence that divine beauty is possible on earth. However, her work also is explicit in supporting the Third Reich as the modern operating agent of this higher energy, the symbolic connection between beauty, power, and triumph is made to seem naturally affiliated with the Nazi party.

The Nazi party was exceedingly adept at accessing and utilizing the power of the political rite. Bell writes, “Political rituals, […], indicate the way in which ritual as a medium of communication and interaction does not simply express or transmit values and messages but also actually creates situations” (136). Hitler and Riefenstahl were very successful in creating “situations” that would go beyond the communication of the Nazi philosophy to embodiment. An important distinction in Riefenstahl’s work that facilitated greater symbolic meaning is that she was working as an artist, not as a journalist. While both perspectives demand authenticity, the artist has the right to an interpretive perspective. Throughout history this has proven to be dangerous territory. Where is the line between interpretation and manipulation? Artistic perspective and delusion? According to her biography, Riefenstahl claims to have been apolitical throughout Hitler’s (and her own) career and to have merely been an artist with a very powerful agent. Having read her 1938 speech in support of Hitler, she creates fellowship between the art of film and the art of nation building:

Once years ago, the Führer said that if artists knew what great tasks were in store for them in a better Germany, they would join the movement with even greater enthusiasm. Today every artist knows what also is clear to every comrade: reality is providing you with more than your fantasy ever allowed you to dream of. A Greater Germany has become a reality; we have seen it grow from year to year with increasing confidence and deep regard. The creator of Greater Germany is at the same time its most artistic member. (Trimborn 147)

Every successful political party has relied to some degree on political rites. Constructing symbols of state and ideals are intended to create a relationship between a people and their leaders. But what happens when the power of the symbols exceeds the influence of the regime? Can the association that created the symbol lose control? In her speech, Riefenstahl states: “reality is providing you with more than your fantasy ever allowed you to dream of.” Her relationship with Hitler enabled Riefenstahl access to complete creative control and unlimited funding for her artistic endeavors (art which just happened to be aligned with the taste and philosophy of her patron). Riefenstahl celebrates her success as an artist while simultaneously celebrating Hitler’s success as a political leader. Both are built on fantasy.

Sontag argues that Riefenstahl’s art embodied an aesthetic that is inseparable from her politics, a Fascist aesthetic. She describes a fascist aesthetic in the following way:

[Fascist aesthetics] flow from (and justify) a preoccupation with situations of control, submissive behavior, extravagant effort, and the endurance of pain; they endorse two seemingly opposite states, egomania and servitude. The relations of domination and enslavement take the form of a characteristic pageantry: the massing of groups of people; the turning of people into things; the multiplication or replication of things; and the grouping of people/things around an all-powerful, hypnotic leader-figure or force. The fascist dramaturgy centers on the orgiastic transactions between mighty forces and their puppets, uniformly garbed and shown in ever swelling numbers. Its choreography alternates between ceaseless motion and a congealed, static, “virile” posing. Fascist art glorifies surrender, it exalts mindlessness, it glamorizes death. (316)

What is the relationship between Fascist aesthetics and the authenticity of an artist? Riefenstahl successfully works with film to create visual metaphors, which should technically make her an artist. But what about the content that provides meaning to an artists work? Beyond the production, is there a responsibility to challenge how the audience views the world? In the 1993 Riefenstahl interviews portrayed in film “The Wonderful Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl,” directed by Ray Muller, Riefenstahl argues that she is interested in what is beautiful, not what is political. Throughout the film she is aggressively more interested in sharing how she filmed, rather than why. True to Sontag’s description of fascist aesthetics, Riefenstahl’s own life has embraced “two seemingly opposite states, egomania and servitude.” The enduring question regarding Riefenstahl’s work is whether she can be an artist, creating during and with the patronage of Nazi Germany, or is her art saturated by politics and limited to being beautifully crafted propaganda?

In regard to ritual, Riefenstahl developed the widespread success of the political rites that portrayed Germany throughout the world. She was working as an artist, but she was also working as an artist who knew her work was being read as if it were journalism. The world was viewing her work as an example of Hitler’s regime. The problem is that Riefenstahl’s work was limited to representing the grand philosophical ideals and failed to share the racist and destructive. In “Documenting Ritual,” Ronald Grimes writes about his experience working as an expert for a documentary film about ritual.

The choice of rites depicted in the film is driven almost exclusively by visual interest and the availability of footage and archival materials, not by how widespread or important the rites are not, nor how well they illustrate a category, nor by how much is known about the rite. (19)

Grimes’ experience working with the filmmakers shows that he was not expected to present the critical study of rituals; rather he was expected to support a preconceived drama of ritual made by the producers. His complaints of the producer’s narrow vision are supported by their ability to manipulate the perspectives of others through literally cutting and pasting film. The following is a description of what type of material was represented in the “documentary”:

The implied criteria for visual interest are how much movement and color there is, the recording quality of the clip, and the projected ability to attract and hold viewers’ interest. Among the aesthetic preferences exhibited by “Sacred rites and Rituals” are largeness of scale (big crowds and wide vistas are preferred), scenes involving blood or pain, actions with no obvious explanations, culturally unfamiliar sites, and actions displaying ornate or minimal clothing.

Interestingly, the standards for this documentary are similar to the “fascist aesthetics” that Susan Sontag described. Instead of engaging in the experience of ritual, the documentary turns ritual (and those who practice ritual) into “things.”  By turning ritual into a representation of “the other” or a “different thing,” it is no longer representing its original symbolic embodiment within a community; rather it has been co-opted by another perspective. In “Documenting Ritual,” Grimes explains that the problem with this process is that the viewer becomes dependent on the film to interpret the material. The audience fails to think for themselves:

[V]iewers of a “touristic” documentary are rendered dependent on the film. They could not possibly understand performances so exotic and impenetrable without experts, narrators, and filmmakers. Viewers would not perform such rites, because they are too “mysterious,” and viewers could not make intellectual sense of the rites without assistance. In contrast, the viewer of a contemplative documentary thinks, “well, that makes more sense than I would have imagined. Why not do it the way these folks do it?” Or the viewer muses, “ I would never do that, but now it makes sense why they do it that way.” (26)

The complaint against Riefenstahl is first that she was facilitating political rites that enabled the Nazi party to accomplish tremendous crimes against humanity. Secondly, that even if her intentions were to create beautiful images, she was able to do so by the commission of the Nazi party, was privileged to their inner circles, was an intimate friend of Adolph Hitler, and claimed to be an artist while failing to achieve critical engagement within her self and audience. If her failure of perception was intentional, then it was criminal, but if it was unconscious, then she becomes an initiate to the political rite she worked to establish.

In both the case of Leni Riefenstahl and Mr. Mosley’s “Nazi Themed Orgy,” the participant’s relationship to ritual helps to clarify public response. As Riefenstahl demonstrated with her work for Hitler, the energy of political rites is established by creating a connection between the individual, the symbol, and a higher cosmic energy. Because of her success in engaging a nation, and the world, through her mythic images, it is impossible to disassociate the art from what inspired its creation. Through the atrocities of Nazi Germany, the symbols of Riefenstahl’s work are invested with a cosmic power beyond the control of the artist. The effectiveness of the initiation of these symbols by the Nazi political rite is demonstrated through the public outrage expressed toward Mr. Mosley’s private acting out of abusive behavior and its vague illusions to the rituals that previously provoked world war. If Riefenstahl’s work served as Nazi propaganda and disengaged the audience from being critical, then the repercussions are found in a heightened sensitivity toward any symbolic reference to the imagery that distracted the world from preventing crimes against humanity. Consciously or unconsciously, Mr. Mosley incited a response of outrage that was absent during the original symbolic initiation.

Fairy Tales: Critical Theory and Archetypal Interpretation

The question of how to read a text has been asked and argued by theorists since the first work was offered to an audience for interpretation. Questions of what should be considered separable and inseparable from the review of the text are many, the stronger of which have developed into schools of critical theory. The initial debate in reading a text is over the precedence of form versus content. Though Aristotle began this debate, it became publicly popular in the 20^th century because of the cultural critic Susan Sontag. Taking a firm stance, Sontag argued for the supremacy of form, and then, over a decade later, changed her position and wrote discourse supporting the primacy of content. Beyond Sotnag’s writing, scholars throughout the world have found legitimate and convincing rationale for either approach. The crux of each perspective argues that through understanding the form, or by going in-depth into the content, the text will naturally open itself to a relevant interpretation. Beyond form and content, additional schools of criticism have emerged throughout the last century. T.S. Eliot headed the movement for New Criticism, in which the meaning of the text is found by staying with the text. Stanley Fish has argued for Reader Response, where the reader’s process of engagement decides the hermeneutic route of understanding. Sigmund Freud’s development of psychoanalysis introduced a new way of understanding textual relationships through the differentiation of Self and Other. The move toward Psychoanalytic interpretation lay the foundation for specialized interpretation, as is found in Cultural, Deconstruction and Feminist criticism.  These are only a sample of the different types of interpretive methods that have entered the formal conversation regarding textual interpretation. These conversations obtain new meaning as they are reassessed in regard to Jungian analysis and the interpretation of Fairy Tales. By reviewing von Franz’ interpretive method of Fairy Tales within the textual context of critical theory, we may then compare the strategic methods of interpretation that are introduced by Marie-Louise von Franz in her Introduction to the Interpretation of Fairy Tales and further explored by Professor Walter Odajnyk in his article “The Archetypal Interpretation of Fairy Tales: Bluebeard.” Through understanding the variations in critical theory, we may begin to recognize form and content of interpretation as it relates to psychology and healing potential.

Marie-Louise von Franz’ method of interpreting Fairy Tales is outlined in Chapter Three of her book, Introduction to the Interpretation of Fairy Tales. This is a multi-faceted endeavor and begins by conducting a structural analysis of the fairy tale by observing the time, place, and setting. Next, the characters are identified and counted at the different stages of the story.  Questions such as the following are asked: How many total characters are there? Are they male, female, animal, or other? What is lacking? If the story begins:

‘The king had three sons” one notices that there are four characters, but the mother is lacking. The story may end with one of the sons, his bride, his brother’s bride and another bride—that is, four characters again but in a different set-up. Having seen that the mother is lacking at the beginning and there are three women at the end, one would suspect that the whole story is about redeeming the female principle. (111)

Any unbalance between the number of characters or gender is significant to the interpretation and understanding of the archetypal conflict taking place. Third, a symbolic analysis is begun. This involves looking up and amplifying the symbols within the tale. Preceding this process, psychological analysis processes the information and attempts to translate the story into psychological terms. This does not mean that the tale is translated to promote a psychological agenda or to amplify psychological ideas (Freudian or Jungian), rather the goal of this step is to reiterate psychologically what takes place within the context of the fairy tale.  Finally, personal and archetypal analysis may be attempted. This involves in-depth knowledge of the self and the cultural community in which the fairy tale is active. To verify that the interpretation is authentic and functional takes experience and intuition.

In comparing von Franz’ method with other critical strategies of interpretation, we find that it is a fusion. However, a chief similarity is observed in relation to New Criticism. The importance of staying with the text, or staying with the image to be guided to interpretation is significant. Second, von Franz is working with a psychological model. This means that a vocabulary is introduced in order to amplify dynamics inherent in the material. It is important to note that one of the challenges of using psychological theory in relationship to text is that often a text can be used as a case study to support the foundation of theories. When done thoroughly, von Franz’ theory rejects usurpation of content for the service of theory. The key difference is that it is an interpretation, not a diagnosis.   Cultural and structural perspectives may also be brought into the discussion and analysis.

At this point, it is important to distinguish between the different types of text. While critical theory has opened up the canon to embrace texts from diverse authorship and from innumerable types of media, von Franz’ method focuses exclusively on Fairy Tales. She argues, “Fairy tales are the purest and simplest expression of collective unconscious psychic processes. Therefore their value for the scientific investigation of the unconscious exceeds that of all other material” (1). Here, it is stressed that von Franz sees her strategy as a scientific method that is researched, observed, interpreted, and reassessed. While critical theory has been known to assert a similar function in structuralism, it is not always the goal. Typically, theorists strive to achieve new strategies of engagement and understanding and are welcomed to them by the endless flexibility of form and content. In focusing solely on fairy tales, von Franz has changed the conversation by isolating the form and content of the text to a set number of variations. The isolated environment is essential for the success of experimentation. When the text is opened up to infinite abstractions, it is difficult to observe the innately abstract nature of the unconscious. Similarly to dreams, fairy tales enable a specific context and allow the unconscious to be observed.

Another important distinction is raised in Walter Odajnyk’s article, “The Archetypal Interpretation of Fairy Tales: Bluebeard.”  In the introduction Odajnyk distinguishes between the “personalistic approach” and “archetypal interpretation.” Instead of representing human beings and their neuroses, fairy tales personify archetypes, which in turn are the language of the unconscious. The characters in a fairy tale behave “stereotypically and appear to have hardly any inner psychic life […] We may conclude, von Franz writes, that the characters in fairy tales represent archetypes, not human beings, and that the stories address transpersonal difficulties, developments, and dangers and not neurotic complications of an individual” (10). This statement is continued to assert that in the personalistic approach there is no healing potential. In archetypal interpretations the possibility of healing comes from recognizing the archetypal interactions that are unbalanced and then witnessing their realignment. Unconscious elements become conscious and the complex is understood within an attainable context. Just as von Franz narrows the scope of content and form to a contained continuum, so do fairy tales make the unconscious accessible.

In his article, Odajnyk argues “The ‘personalistic approach’ has become the dominant form of fairy-tale interpretation among Jungians and non-Jungians alike” (11). Why is the personalistic approach dominant and how does it nullify the healing potential? One way of observing these questions is to look at the experience of children engaging in fairy tales in comparison to adults and critical theory. As noted above, the challenge of critical theory is to enable engagement with a text. This engagement should lead to some revelation that relates to human experience. Through archetypal interpretation the psyche is engaged and the individual and (in the case of fairy tales) the community have a healing experience. In observing adults, it is difficult to distinguish what is archetypal engagement and what is critical processing, because everything is being processed by a mature intellect. In reading fairy tales, an adult may either interpret a fairy tale in relation to a critical theory, personal identification, or, ideally, an archetypal interpretation. However, a child does not have the context for critical theory, or the developed ego for complex identification. Therefore, the clarity and appeal of archetypes is made more visible. Though a child is not typically in need of the type of healing that an adult may need, the fairy tale serves as a method of emotional and psychological instruction. A recognition of unbalance between binaries such as good and evil, positive and negative, feminine and masculine, and light and dark is made. For the child, an early education in archetypal structures facilitates adult interpretations and healing. This education begins with simple imagist representations that are depicted in cartoon form, such as Pokemon and many Disney films, and then extends to more complex fantasy genre, such as the wizard tales of Harry Potter (J. K. Rowling, 1997), the vampire narratives of Twilight (Stephenie Meyer, 2005), and the numerous stories navigated through video games.

The archetypal nature of fairy tales makes them appealing to children and adults, and transcends cultural boundaries. Fairy tales may be engaged as a means of education, entertainment, and healing. However, they may also be activated within a critical context to explore theoretical and interpretive methods of perception. Personalistic approaches enable creative re-visionings and engagement in a variety of critical theorizing. However, it is important to distinguish between the projection of personal or cultural experience and the archetypal representation of the Self and World that may be recognized by engaging in archetypal interpretation.

Alchemy and the Hermetic Tradition: Mircea Eliade and Carl Jung

The relationship between Mythology and the Religious traditions is an intricate weaving of metaphor. Both Mythology and Religion have the similar function of relating lived experience to a universal purpose. Often, religion relates life choices to divine models, while Mythology creates narratives that contextualize experience. In many instances mythology and religion function simultaneously. However, a major distinction between the two traditions is that mythology is defined as an adaptive narration, and dogmatic perspective restricts religion to a lived mythic model. Though there is a wide continuum of religious interpretation ranging from orthodox to eclectic, as a lived mythology, religion is a lens that the world is seen through. To clarify, there is a specified Catholic religious lens that filters mythology to fit a defined vision of the universe. Many mythologies have foundations in cultures that are no longer active, such as in the Greek and Roman myths. These mythologies resonate throughout history and reveal archetypal characterization that may be seen throughout the world’s cultures and religions. A specific example of the relationship between myth and religion is better understood through the mythology surrounding the Alchemical Tradition as explored by the theorists, Mircea Eliade and Carl Jung.

A working understanding of Alchemy includes both scientific method and spiritual symbolism. A series of elemental transformations is intended to create a new material. However, these changes are not just dependent on following a physical recipe, they must also incorporate symbolic relationships. The basic alchemical sequence begins with a male and female sealing the prima materia  (original substance) into a vessel. This process changes the substance from being red to back, nigredo, the dark side. Calcinatio, is the application of fire to the substance, turning it from black to purple and then into ash. The ashes are dissolved in the solutio, or water. The sunlike substance, sulfur accomplishes the coagulatio, drying, of the solution. The pairing of opposites is possible in a gaseous state, sublimatio. Finally, an alchemical wedding of process and material leads to the reddish yellow/rosy pink philosopher’s stone, coniunctio. Details of this process are revealed by reviewing alchemical symbolism and writings throughout thousands of years of history. The residue of the alchemical tradition is found in science, mythology, religion, art, literature, psychology, politics, and many more areas of intellectual thought and cultural experience.

Mircea Eliade and Carl Jung are two twentieth century theorists who explore the implications of alchemy in a modern context. Each theorist has a working definition of mythology that reveals how the study of alchemy is an important mythological structure. The challenge that both writers have in defining myth is that it is the nature of myth to transform boundaries. In Myth and Reality, Eliade attempts a definition: “Myth narrates a sacred history; it relates an event that took place in primordial Time, […] it relates how something was produced, began to be” (5-6). This definition focuses on the method of mythology. He emphasizes that myth is based on creation stories, which are connected to what is sacred in a culture. In Alchemical Studies Carl Jung is less explicit with his definition of mythology. “Even though mythology may not be ‘true’ in the sense that a mathematical law or a physical experiment is true, it is still a serious subject for research and contains quite as many truths as a natural science; only, they lie on a different plane. One can be perfectly scientific about mythology, for it is just as good a natural product as plants, animas or chemical elements” (159). Jung states that both myth and science reveal truths, however mythic are understood in a different method than scientific truths. He also states that both myths and the elemental world are naturally occurring. While both Eliade and Jung agree that myths are an integral part of human perspective, Eliade focuses on myths as reflecting the sacred in narrative synthesis, while Jung emphasizes mythology as a process similar to other natural phenomena.

In The Forge and the Crucible: The Origins and Structures of Alchemy, Eliade explores how alchemy connects the physical and the sacred through a variety of cultural contexts. Beginning with “Meteorites and Metallurgy”, Eliade states, “It was inevitable that meteorites should inspire awe. They came from some remote region high up in the heavens and possessed a sacred quality enjoyed only by things celestial”(19). He continues to explain how the exploration of metallurgy was connected to a spiritual understanding of the universe, emphasizing that in many cultures smiths, or metal workers, held an elevated status in a community. In a later chapter, “The World Sexualized”, Eliade refers to the union of metals in the alchemical marriage as a continuation of natural processes. He clarifies that plants, metals, ores, and stones were given gender forms by cultures in the ancient Orient, Mesopotamia, amongst others. The tools, individuals, and processes that engage these metals are all critical components of the Alchemical Tradition. Eliade establishes a clear connection between the production of metals and the sacred significance throughout his book.

In contrast, Jung articulates alchemy as a metaphor for psychological functions. Alchemy is symbolic of figurative functions within the psyche as revealed by a variety of myths found in visions, myths and symbols. Jung states that “The alchemist […] dreams in his own specific language”, and that “We have [to] learn the psychological secrets of alchemy” (69). He hypothesizes that “the symbolism of alchemy has a great deal to do with the structure of the unconscious” thereby implying that by attempting to wed alchemy with depth psychology we can begin to decipher both mysteries (69). In the chapter “The Philosopher’s Tree”, Jung states,

[T]he confrontation with the unconscious usually begins in the realm of the personal unconscious, that is, of personally acquired contents which constitute the shadow, and from there leads to archetypal symbols which represent the collective unconscious. The aim of the confrontation it to abolish the dissociation. (348)

In relation to this statement, alchemy is represented in two functions. As a tradition, Alchemy is a part of the collective unconscious and reflects archetypal symbols in a way that reveals psychic functions. However, Alchemy also functions as a personal journey of confrontation and dissociation. The alchemist separates from the collective to undergo a series of psychic processes in an attempt to separate, engage, and pursue the nature of the philosopher’s stone. Jung argues for both processes through multiple mythological and symbolic examples in a variety of writings.

As a tradition, the role of alchemy may be observed from several perspectives. Eliade argues for the connection of physical phenomenon to the sacred, while Jung creates a metaphorical connection between the symbolic functioning of archetypes in the collective unconscious and individual psychology. While Eliade and Jung enter into an understanding of Alchemy with different strategies and goals, they both argue for the importance of alchemy in the generating of myth throughout global communities. Both theorists articulate their understanding through cultural, religious, and mythical examples. Just as the scientific process draws on alchemy to explore chemical interactions, so does the intellectual mind rely on the symbolic experience of alchemy in the generation of an active understanding of individual and cultural systems.

Existentialism and Post-Modernism: Value in Lingering

Exhaustion, deconstruction, existential uncertainty–these are some of the qualities associated with post-modernism. Even the name suggests passing from a known state into ambiguity. In “Myth and postmodernist philosophy,” William Doty defines the challenges of postmodernism and mythology, while also provoking the complexity of interaction between the two perspectives as they engage in a conversation with the philosophical tradition. Specifically, these interactions are defined by Doty’s article, synthesized by the question of the role of narrative in philosophy, and actualized by Albert Camus’ 1942 essay “The Myth of Sisyphus”, and Jorge Luis Borges’ short story “The Maker,” published in 1960.

The goal of post-modernism is to inspire; devastation is a complement. Rising out of the ruins of two world wars and countless other crime against humanity, the challenge of postmodernism was to create new meaning where everything smelled of desolation and death. The philosophy of existentialism and the theory of deconstruction were responses to worldly circumstances. If there is no god, only the individual, how does one create purpose? Likewise, in deconstruction the challenge is to explore the unknown space between signifer and signified ,and to warn “against the assumption that we can master or control either the primordial or the future” (149). As in life, the origin is illusive, and the center shifts with approach. How does one live in a world where nothing is certain? How does one create when the foundation keeps shaking? In the postscript Doty quotes Umberto Eco’s statement of the intent of postmodernism:

The postmodern reply to the modern consists of recognizing that the past, since it cannot really be destroyed, because its destruction leads to silence, must be revisited: but with irony, not innocently. (154)

The aim of the postmodern perspective is to look at the world and put the existing pieces together in a way that creates a third plain of understanding. However, the point of postmodernism is not found in the resolution, but in engagement.

Of mythology, Doty engages in the question of “How we treat the past” (144). Like postmodernism, mythology is also a response to interdisciplinary questions. Doty quotes Lawrence Hatab as he poses semiotic questions regarding the nature of myth:

If language is the key to meaning, we must listen to the language of a mythical age to gather its meaning. We will try to let myth show itself through postmythical terminology. We will try to let myth show itself through its language. (146)

Responding to the relationship between myth and language, Doty expands on the idea of making the abstract importance of myth apparent through language, by stating that the function of myth is to make the everyday spectacular:

Myth, […], is a sort of science of the abstract become concrete, a symbolic language useful for designating meanings within the everyday that are initially discerned in the realms of particularly heightened (or sacred/religious) experiences.  (146)

In this statement, the goal of mythology is to elevate the mundane to the special; to abstract extraordinary meaning from what was thought to be impenetrable. While postmodernism has similar ambitions, the difference is origin. Postmodernism is free to be explored throughout a variety of forms, and gains potency through intertextual negotiations.  Mythology is developed through creation stories that preface the psychological, cultural, and religious situations that unfold. These creation stories create a meta-world; stories of creation about creation. Within these situations, it is possible to focus on a variety of personal, social, and religious qualities depending on the needs of the audience and intention of the storyteller. Mythology establishes a parallel world to reveal the purpose of the world we live in.

Though distinct in their origins, mythology and postmodernism have a natural interaction. The context of mythology creates a foundation for a variety of perspectives to be emphasized. Many postmodern tales enter into mythic dialogues with the intention of providing insight into the conflicts between individual psychology and culture during the 20^th century. Through the interactions between postmodernism and mythology it is possible to stimulate clichéd recitation into becoming an active engagement of text, psychology, and culture. Exhaustion, deconstruction, and existential uncertainty are symptoms that reflect an active, explorative engagement with the material. Both mythology and postmodernism were established to respond to questions of existence. Mythology established a creative forum to play out possibilities; postmodernism focused on the process of creativity itself.

One of the most important aspects in comparing mythology to philosophy is to understand the rhetorical devices the bridge the gap between creativity, and rational reflection. In literary criticism, Aristotle initiated the debate of the importance of form and content around 335 B.C. In The Poetics, Aristotle “propose[s] to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kings, noting the essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within the same inquiry” (Aristotle 19). Clearly Aristotle put the emphasis on form over content. In the first century A.D. Longinus reversed the order, emphasizing content over form: “the greatest poets and writers of prose have attained the first place and have clothed their fame with immortality. For it is not a persuasion but to ecstasy that passages of extraordinary genius carry the hearer” (Longinus 48). Longinus is interested in the divine-like essence, “the sublime,” which is the content of great artwork. Both sides of the form | content argument are of equal importance and have been reiterated throughout the centuries; both are critical to understanding the intentions of a narrative. In Myth and Philosophy Lawrence Hatab outlines the evolution and interaction between the two approaches to reality. The intention of both mythology and philosophy is to understand the world, however mythology focuses on creating metaphors and parallel realities, while philosophy is defined by rigorous methodology expressed through strict formulations. In his chapter “The Advent of Philosophy” he defines the role of the first philosophers in outlining the original relationship between mythology and philosophy:

Although philosophy represented a departure from mythical disclosure, the relationship between early philosophy and myth is far from black and white. As we have seen, many philosophical developments grew out of a mythical background; the mythical tradition itself gradually cultivated views of the world and human selfhood, which were preconditions for philosophical inquiry; and many of the first philosophers developed images and themes that clearly had mythical origins. In fact, as we will see, some philosophers simply conceptualized certain fundamental themes of Greek mythical culture. In other words, although philosophy introduced methodological or formal innovations which displaced the specific narrations of myth, nevertheless in many respects early philosophy shows a thematic continuity with mythical disclosure, at least with regard to the underlying meaning of a mythical world. (Hatab 164)

Both Mythology and Philosophy share “an enduring interest in the divine as well as a perpetuation of the related notion that humanity runs up against a certain limit” (164). Hatab separates the two in how they relate to the “distinction between thought and experience” (165). Mythology is the experience of the abstract as the embodiment of the sacred; philosophy focuses on empirical evidence as it reflects the boundaries of the universe and the possibilities of God. Both philosophy and mythology are necessary to in the development of consciousness and the self, providing a narrative method of reflection, either critically or creatively. Hatab explains, “The immediate, existential response to life’s radical changes does not permit an abstract notion of a unified self” (43). The narrative provides a space for the abstract and concrete truths to be revealed. “For instance, myth would not account for the death of a person through biological laws but through a narration telling why this man died at this particular time” (31). Likewise, philosophy would incorporate the biological laws into an understanding of universal laws, and create a critical narrative explaining the death of the man at such and such time. The narrative operates in a form to accomplish the demands of consciousness and the desires of the unconscious.

The traditions of narrative as rhetorical device influenced by both form and content began to deconstruct as existential philosophy and the post-modern creative period emerged in the 20^th century. As a philosophy, existentialism “stressed the absurdity of human existence and the human freedom to make choices” (Terizan lecture). Founded in the 19^th century thinking of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, authors such as Sartre and Camus stretched the boundaries of the role of the individual, society, and the universe. Sartre outlines Existential philosophy in his 1957 essay “Existentialism” stating “existentialism’s first move is to make every man aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his existence rest on him. And when we say that a man is responsible for himself, we do not only mean that he is responsible for his own individuality, but that he is responsible for all men” (Sartre 17). Sartre’s late interpretation of Existentialism equates the search for the divine as the development of the self; at once alienating the individual in the universe and evoking ultimate responsibility. A result of world wars and destruction, a primary concern of Existentialism was how to generate meaning. If one man is responsible for existence of all men and the world is a disaster, what is the purpose of living? In the 1955 preface to “The Myth of Sisyphus” written by Albert Camus, he states that the “fundamental subject” of his essay reasons the following:

[I]t is legitimate and necessary to wonder whether life has a meaning; therefore it is legitimate to meet the problem of suicide face to face. The answer, underlying and appearing through the paradoxes, which cover it, is this: even if one does not believe in God, suicide is not legitimate. Written fifteen years ago, in 1940, amid the French and European disaster, this book declares that even within the limits of nihilism it is possible to find the means to proceed beyond nihilism. (Camus Preface)

As a response to Sartre’s statement that man is responsible for creating purpose in his own existence, Camus focuses on the alternative to existence: nihilism. Existentialism encompasses extremes; Man is a sublime creative power, and Man has no purpose in the universe.

Camus philosophical examination of the dialectic of meaning and nihilism follows the narrative pattern of his philosophical father, Friedrich Nietzsche. In The Birth of Tragedy. Both Camus and Nietzsche rely on mythological narratives to examine philosophical meaning. Nietzsche opens his argument with the following statement:

We shall have gained much for the science of aesthetics, once we perceive not merely by logical inference, but with the immediate certainty of vision, that the continuous development of art is bound up with the Apollonian and Dionysian duality—just as procreation depends on the duality of the sexes, involving perpetual strife with only periodically intervening reconciliations. The terms Dionysian and Apollonian we borrow from the Greeks, who disclose to the discerning mid the profound mysteries of their view of art, not, to be sure, in concepts, but in the intensely clear figures of their gods. (Nietzsche 33).

In this quote, Nietzsche establishes a psychological paradigm between the mythological figures of Dionysus and Apollo. The mythic symbolism that was established by the Greeks is re-activated as Nietzsche explores two worlds of thought: the rational illuminated world of Apollo, and the desire driven creative intoxication of Dionysus. Like the first philosophers, Nietzsche relies on mythic themes to conceptualize a cultural relationship with the universe. Earlier Hatab was referred to as stating that, “early philosophy shows a thematic continuity with mythical disclosure, at least with regard to the underlying meaning of a mythical world.” (Hatab 164) In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche returns to the methodology of the first philosophers as they strive to synthesize the mythical structures embodied by the culture and the empirical evidence of the lived world.

The fusion between mythology and philosophy is critical in existential thinking because both are narratives that provide models for reflection and the generating of meaning. Because of this relationship, it is understandable why Camus parallels Nietzsche and the First Philosophers as he analysis the value of suicide as an option to existence in “The Myth of Sisyphus”. Camus begins by retelling the tale of Sisyphus, changing the narrative structure to reflect the philosophical questions he is preparing to encounter:

The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor. (Camus 119)

Camus-as-Narrator immediately raises a philosophical question, what is the purpose of life? Clearly it is not “futile and hopeless labor.” Camus continues to explain that Sisyphus is being punished for multiple crimes, but essentially for stealing the secrets of the gods. Sisyphus’ life, death, and punishment are summarized as being the experiences of an “absurd hero”.

He is, as much through his passions as through his torture. His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. (120)

Camus is arguing that while Sisyphus’ life was governed by the pursuit of divine knowledge and the passions of existence, his punishment is intended to embody the opposite, total futility. Sisyphus is absurd because the purpose of his life is negated by his punishment in death. Camus states that “myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them” (120), by negating Sisyphus’ heroic actions the Gods attempt to annihilate his existence. Camus attempts to redeam Sisyphus from a nihilistic fate by re-mythologizing Sisyphus not as a prisoner of fate, but as a conscious participant. Sisyphus becomes conscious of his suffering and fate as he watches his bolder return roll out of his control and return to the bottom of the slope.

It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see that man going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moment when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock. (121)

Through the depiction of Sisyphus as a hero who is both condemned and redeemed by his consciousness, he provides a philosophical foundation to argue against suicide. In undertaking a conversation that evaluates the merits of annihilating oneself in response to the absurdity of experience, Camus projects new mythical meaning onto the tale of Sisyphus. Camus discovers meaning for his existence by establishing the value of consciousness, thereby creating meaning for all men. World War provided the empirical evidence to argue that existence is absurd, leading to the evaluation of nihilism and the choice of the individual to exist. When the lived-in world fails to provide a rational model for continuing existence, mythology may be accessed as the rational philosophical evidence needed to sustain purpose. If man can imagine a world that has meaning, than there is a reason to continue living.

Post-modernism is the creative response to an existential crisis. While the roots of post-modernism may be traced throughout literary history, it is predominantly identified as the critical period after WWII. Like Camus’ essay on Sisyphus, post-modernism strove to access and generate fresh understanding to mythological form and content. The deconstruction of classical formulas in structure, perception, and audience acts as a device to stimulate active participation. Like Sisyphus, post-modern salvation is obtained through consciousness. However, there is a fundamental difference between Existentialism and Post-Modernism. Existentialism focuses on absurdity as a path toward nihilism; Post-Modernism views absurdity as a stimulant of creativity. Jorge Luis Borges, the muse of post-modern narrative explorations, encounters the intentions of the creator in a very different way from Camus in his short story “The Maker.” In only a handful of paragraphs, Borges describes the relationship between the creator and the universe. The perspective of the narrator is that of the “Maker” as he describes his relationship with the lived world. This is an immediate contrast with Camus, who focused on the Gods as the inflicting punishment on man. Instead, Borges describes the “Maker” as being seduced by the sensuality of existence.

He had never lingered among the pleasures of memory. Impressions, momentary and vivid, would wash over him: a potter’s vermilion glaze; the sky-vault filled with stars that were also gods; the moon, from which a lion had fallen; the smoothness of marble under his sensitive, slow fingertips; the taste of wild boar meat, which he liked to tear at with brusque, white bites; a Phoenician word; the black shadow cast by a spear on the yellow sand; the nearness of the sea or women; heavy wine, its harsh edge tempered by honey—these things could flood the entire circuit of his soul. (Borges 292)

The voice of the narrator is at once the voice of God and the voice of man. The combination of abstract and physical living is overwhelming as Borges lists the “pleasures of memory.” Just as the reader is sucked into the decadence of existence, one must wonder why the story begins with the statement that “He had never lingered” within these memories. The first response is to see this statement as a rejection of the sensuous, however as the prose continue the opposite occurs. Just as the experience of living was described in the first paragraph, the second describes the departure of the Maker from the world and his experience of loss:

Gradually, the splendid universe began drawing away from him; a stubborn fog blurred the lines of his hand; the night lost its peopling stars, the earth became uncertain under his feet. Everything grew distant, and indistinct. When he learned that he was going blind, he cried out. […] Now (he felt) I will not be able to see the sky filled with mythological dread or this face that the years will transfigure. Days and nights passed over this despair of his flesh, but one morning he awoke, looked (with calm now) at the blurred things that lay about him, and felt, inexplicably, the way one might feel upon recognizing a melody or a voice, that all this had happened to him before and that he had faced it with fear but also with joy and hopefulness and curiosity. Then he descended into his memory […]. (292-293)

The experience of life and the experience of the otherworld are united by an understanding of mythology. Mythology inhabits both realms: what is experienced and what is remembered. Meaning in both realms of existence is a product of mythological making. “The Maker” is both God as he makes existence conscious and man as he mythologizes experience. By fictionalizing this process Borges creates a post-modern   re-conceptualization of reality. Both Borges and Camus asked similar questions and find answers by following mythology into consciousness. However, the form of these accomplishments differs. Camus applies philosophical methodology to mythological content to argue a philosophy supportive of existence; Borges creates a new mythological perspective as a model of the creative process. Instead of arguing against annihilation, “The Maker” explores the content of existence in a new form, one of creative possibility.

Existential philosophical concerns and post-modern creativity are highly influential in how the contemporary world interacts with philosophy and mythology. It is uncertain how these questions will evolve into new critical forms in the future. However, what is certain is that the process of consciousness as provided for by these two disciplines will be in high demand. Thus far, many re-visionings of the boundaries between form and content, myth and logic, and the concrete and abstract have provided models for the dialectical process to be engaged. The question is not whether the conversation will be continued, but rather, in what incarnation will the narrative be propelled forward and whether the future will be perceived as a burden or a curiosity.

Modern Fairy Tales: Archetype vs. Stereotype

Since 1923 The Walt Disney Company has been making animated films, building theme parks, and accessing all other forms of entertainment. Much of the Disney Company’s box office success has come from their re-visioning of fairytales into animated events. Typical childhood memories include Disney’s renditions of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Pinocchio, and many others. Marie Louis Von Franz describes the position of fairy tales in society in the following statement from The Feminine in Fairy Tales:

Fairy tales express the creative fantasies of the rural and less educated layers of the population. They have the great advantage of being naïve (not “literary”) and of having been worked out in collective groups, with the result that they contain purely archetypal material unobscured by personal problems (1).

In short, Fairy Tales are organically grown with the creative material of a collective group. Though immensely popular, The Disney Company has also been subject to continued criticism by a variety of interest groups. From religion to gender, sexuality to animal rights, and pro-life to racism, Disney has been accused of promoting an agenda beyond simply making a profit.  Von Franz continues on to state:

Until about the seventeenth century, it was the adult population that was interested in fairy tales. Their allocation to the nursery is a late development, which probably has to do with the rejection of the irrational, and development of the rational outlook, so that they came to be regarded as nonsense and old wives’ tales and good enough for children (1).

Von Franz’ statement helps to clarify why so many parties other than children are interested in discussing, interacting, and engaging with the fairy tales depicted by the Disney Company. According to a recent New York Times article, “Her Prince Has Come. Critics, Too” written by Brooks Barnes, the latest Disney film is being received and questioned by the American public. Specifically, the article reveals and questions the hidden narratives and unconscious motives of both creator and audience, and how von Franz’ structural method of reading fairy tales can re-orient the imagination in new mythic and psychological ways.

“The Princess and the Frog” is due to be released in December 2009 and may be one of the studios’ last hand-drawn animated films since the company’s acquisition of Pixar in 2006.The basic plot of the film is described by ImDb as follows:

A fairy tale set in Jazz Age-era New Orleans and centered on young Princess Tiana, a frog prince who desperately wants to be human again, and a fateful kiss that leads them both on an adventure through the bayous of Louisiana. (ImDb)

Princess Tiana is Disney’s first African-American princess to grace the royal Disney court. Her suitor, Prince Naveen “hails from the fictional land of Maldonia and is voiced by a Brazilian actor; Disney says that he is not white.”  The film is being celebrated by some for its return to classic animation,  plurality of races, and imaginative use of classic fairy tales. One African-American mother applauds Disney’s efforts to add diversity, “I don’t know how important having a black princess is to little girls—my daughter loves Ariel and I see nothing wrong with that—but I think it’s important to moms.”  However, the film is also being severely criticized. In her article, Barnes interviewed a number of people regarding the film’s reception and shares their concerns with her readers, “Disney obviously doesn’t think a black man is worthy of the title of prince,” “The princess’ story is set in New Orleans, the setting of one of the most devastating tragedies to beset a black community,” and “We finally get a black princess and she spends the majority of her time on screen as a frog.”  Disney executives respond to this criticism by stating that “people should stop jumping to conclusions about [the film]. In regard to the development of the film, characters and plot one writer states “that the idea for a black princess came about organically. The producers wanted to create a fairy tale set in the US and centered on New Orleans, with its colorful past and deep musical history. ‘As we spent time in New Orleans, we realized how truly it is a melting pot, which is how the idea of strongly multicultural characters came about.’”

The critical debate that is surrounding “The Princess and the Frog” reveals that the issue of race, mixed races, and class are issues with which Disney viewers are engaged. Over the years Disney has been accused of perpetuating stereotypes, and it is currently argued that this film is continuing to do so. Which leads us to ask, what is the difference between a stereotype and an archetype? A stereotype is defined as a “widely held but fixed and over-simplified image of a particular type of person or thing.”  In Interpretation of Fairy Tale,s Von Franz explains that fairy tales “represent the archetypes in their simplest, barest and most concise form. In this pure form, the archetypal images afford us the best clues to the understanding of the processes going on in the collective psyche” (1). Clearly, it is the perception of the receiver that recognizes an archetype rather than a stereotype. Disney’s ability to become successful has been in its ability to negotiate the boundary between fairy tale as archetypal art, and bigotry. The question is whether it will be able to continue to do so within the current cultural climate.

In her books, von Franz outlines her psychological method of re-orienting the imagination in new ways in order to perceive a phenomenon in a more mythically attuned manner, rather than in a purely reactionary one. She explains that there are many different ways of looking at a fairy tale including literally, ethnically, archeologically, mythologically, and historically. However, she also adds that, “If you start with the world tree, you can easily prove that every mythological motif leads to the world tree in the end” (7). Likewise, if you begin to look at the new Disney film for signs of racism, sexism, or class-ism, then you will find support for your argument. By doing so “you just get lost in the chaos of interconnections and overlapping of meanings which all archetypal images have with one another.” To avoid the chaos, confusion, and deterioration of seeing, von Franz suggests looking at the fairy tale through the four functions of consciousness, thinking, feeling, sensation, and intuition. By developing these four perspectives, interpretation becomes more engaging and colorful (11).  In reading the criticism and counter-criticism of  “The Frog and the Princess,” it is clear that while the creators were using an intellectual or thinking lens, many African-Americans are responding from a feeling perspective and creating a hierarchy of values. An additional complication for the existing interpretations is that only a short preview of the movie exists. This preview could be considered a sensate interpretation in that it just looks at the symbols of the film and amplifies them into a generalized conception of plot, conflict, and personified ideas. For the film to be a success, it must be viewed as a whole and interpreted intuitively by synthesizing all the different perspectives. If the writers and producers did their job well, then there will be substantial content to sustain a plethora of perspectives. If they did not do their job thoroughly, then the film will tend toward stereotypes and succumb to criticism.

© 2009 Cerena Ceaser

Narrative and Myth: Exploring Identity through Mythopoesis

Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything

and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.

The reshaping of a myth into a contemporary form is one of the great challenges of 20th century literature. The modernist poet and critic, T.S. Eliot wrote about the mythical method, which gave form and called on the archetypal power of the classics to serve as platforms for new works of art and thought. However, it is impossible in discussing the re-visioning of myth from the modern to post-modern literary periods, it is impossible not to speak of identity. Myth provides a context for man’s identity to be explored. In the 20^th century, globalization, technology, capitalism, and world wars deconstructed what was previously conceived to be true and beautiful. Born at the turn of the century in Argentina, Jorge Luis Borges lived and wrote about many of the identity struggles that faced the soul of the world. Working in fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, Borges’ used a variety of form to explore pervading questions. Specifically, in his short work “Borges and I,” he explores the relationship between literary narrative and myth.

In Interpretation of Fairy Tales Marie Louise Von Franz summaries Jung’s concept of the Self. “The unknown fact is what Jung calls the Self, which is the psychic totality of an individual and also, paradoxically, the regulating center of the collective unconscious. Every individual and every nation has its own modes of experiencing the psychic reality” (2). To know the self in the world has been the primary challenge of philosophers, artists, writers, and religious thought for thousands of years. Many of the creative challenges of the 20^th century have dealt with seeing the horrors of the Self, the split of identity, and the challenge to continue on. A visual example is found in the Pablo Picasso’s painting Guernica. In this painting the mythic structures unite with modern horrors through cubist techniques. Likewise, many artist strove to develop a mythic vocabulary to voice concern, horror, and hope for the human condition. “Borges and I” is an example of  how mythology, narrative, and existential questions combined to develop into a mythopoetic vision. Specifically, this is achieved through the narrative structure, mythological personage, and psychological questions being explored.

“Borges and I” is archived within Borges’ poetry. However, the form of the short work is not written in meter, nor does it call on any familiar poetic cues. However, the writing is short, and more importantly, it reads with the feel of poetry. The narrative has a feeling of spontaneity that is often over burdened by prose. The lightness of text, is matched by meditative musings. Though I am reading this piece in translation, one of the most effective narrative strategies is Borges use of clauses. For example, “I walk through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name on a list of professors or in a biographical dictionary.” If this sentence was reformatted using line breaks in addition to the punctuation it could easily be recognized as a poem. However, the combination of poetic voice with narrative flow allows the reader to enter into the stream of perception without the boundary of form that poetry so often utilizes. Borges’ break with traditional narrative serves the mythological objective to reassemble a vision of the world by mixing form and content.

The mythological references of “Borges and I” are engaged through the author/subject relationship. In the text Borges is personified, or inscribed with mythic power beyond that of the Borges who exists in day-to-day life. “The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to.” These opening lines, distance the narrator by through the use of “one.” In addition, it is made clear that Borges is active, while the narrator is passive. The contrast between active and passive may be likened to the idea of “soft and hard” world mythology. Events could happen when the world was soft, before it became hard and fate was decided.  Another example is when the narrator explains how he is being consumed by Borges, “Little by little, I am giving over everything to him, though I am quite aware of his perverse custom of falsifying and magnifying things.” The implication of this statement is that if Borges did not have some greater mythological power, than there he would not be able to consume the narrator. If Borges were just perverse, then there would be no great attraction. Finally, the narrator shares a time when he tried to escape from Borges, “Years ago I tried to free myself from him and went from the mythologies of the suburbs to the games with time and infinity, but those games belong to Borges now and I shall have to imagine other things.” This is a very important statement in that it connects mythology to the intention of Borges. As with the pages of the book, the narrator explores the different possibilities of mythic identity, but instead discovers that Borges is authoring even the presumed escape. Borges extends to mythic proportions and the idea of authorship to divinity is suggested.

The true power of this piece is realized through the psychological suggestions surrounding authorship. The reader understand that the author, Jorge Luis Borges, is writing a piece entitled “Borges and I.” One would presume that the poem will be about an assumed narrator learning about the author. While this is true on some levels, what makes this piece existentially interesting is that it is the Self encountering Self. Specifically, it is Borges expedition into himself as an active author, and passive human being. The “perverse custom of falsifying and magnifying things” is rationalized by being the creative genius that motivates Borges writing. In Jungian terms, “Borges and I” is the Self encountering it’s shadow. For the narrator, the character Borges personifies many characteristics that he feels to be dark, consuming, and manipulative. In many ways, it is clear that the narrative voice could wish for another existence stating that his life “is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.” As the author Borges personifies himself as the wishful musings of himself as a man consumed by his writing, thus providing a model for how the self must learn to negotiate the different facets of identity.

As Jorge Luis Borges strives to navigate the different facets of himself through narrative and mythic portrayal, a final twist is given to the story. For the reader, this final detail elevates the work from being an identity project into mythopoesis. As we have established, the premise of the poem is in two parts of Borges meeting each other, the writer and the man. But, the final sentence changes this relationship. “I do not know which of us has written this page.”  Here the narrator is discovered to also be a writer and the entire piece is thrown end over end. The mythic agency of author is no longer clear-cut and the layers of self-authorship can no longer be explored rationally, and enters into a realm of existential intuition. The challenge of 20^th century creative perspective is achieved through the destabilization of intellectual rationale. As with the world, the reader can not presume to assert control over the author, nor can the author assume to have agency over the text. Myth, narrative, and mythopoesis must work together to create an organic experience independent of what has previously been imagined.

© 2009 Cerena Ceaser

Volver: A Return to Memory

Director Pedro Almodóvar portrays a pantheon of archetypal female persona in his 2006 film, Volver. From Spanish, volver means ‘to return’ and can be used in both literal and figurative contexts—the physical return to a place, or a metaphoric return to experience. Located in modern day Spain, the film shares its time frame between suburban Madrid and a rural village of the La Mancha region. La Mancha is famously recognized from Miguel de Cervantes’ classic tale, Don Quixote. Though chronologically centered in modern times, the reality of the La Manchan village is immediately identified as being a liminal, or threshold between what is present and what has passed. It is important to clarify, that though Almodóvar uses cinematic and narrative techniques to convey the innate ‘otherness’ of the village, he did so not as a false construction, but as an amplification of what is already present in rural Spain. Specifically, La Mancha is characterized as being a place of fantasy and insanity, the film elaborating on the strong winds that bring fire and lunacy. In contrast, life on the edges of Madrid is characterized by stark urbanization and the necessity of hard work. In both locations, loneliness is a familiar neighbor. The film centers around the relationship of five women and their challenge to return to memories that they prefer to keep repressed. Central to their struggles is the relationship to the Mother and to Death: the womb and the tomb.

The various layers of mystery, memory, and wounding present in the film are more clearly understood through the perspective of psychological structures and persona described in Archetypal Psychology, specifically through the personification of Athena, Hera, and Demeter. Personification “implies a human being who creates Gods in human likeness much as an author creates characters out of his own personality. These Gods depict his own needs; they are his projections” (Hillman 12). Hillman compares the process of creating God-images to the authorial process of character development. In both instances, the personification is a projection of the author. Understanding that personification reflects aspects of a personality and is also a creative process is important. In Virginia Apperson and Jon Beebe’s upcoming book The Presence of the Feminine in Film, the authors describe the relationship between cinema and analyst in the following way: “The film director’s job is to tell a compelling, captivating and credible tale. The Jungian analyst’s job is to tap into the archetypal possibilities that lie within their analysands’ dreams and neurotic symptoms, helping them discover that which blocks them and that which will lead them into a more meaningful existence.” The tool of both the cinematographer and the analyst are found in archetypes. Apperson and Beebe explain:

With a shared reverence for image, the movie director and Jungian analyst carry a confidence that this instrument that they most rely upon, the archetypal image, ‘is a living, organic entity which acts as a releaser and transformer of psychic energy’ (Edinger 1972, 109). Without the symbolic possibilities found in the many layers behind the image, neither could do their job. Without the vitality of the symbolic, there would be no growth, no dynamism, no effective movement, no transformation, and no redemption. (Apperson and Beebe, Publishers Preface)

Archetype becomes the metaphoric palette for both the artist and the healer. As with any creation, it is important to clarify from the beginning of this analysis that the intention of the exploration is not to reduce the plot to a single argument; rather, it is to acknowledge that the very nature of femininity is to resist absolute definitions, to allow for each woman hold her own pantheon of goddess within her psyche, and to inspire future explorations. [Excerpt from Larger Piece]

© 2009 Cerena Ceaser

Calypso and Odysseus

 

Red passion can only tempt the unconscious blues of emotion.

The Symbolic Function of Color in the Art of Joan Miro

 

The symbolic vocabulary of color has many different languages. These languages allow the voyeur to understand their experience of art and the world within a variety of contexts. The relationship between color and symbol is particularly strong in the work of Joan Miro.

Suzuki

Suzuki Harunobu

 

Toe touched length

crests mild ripples

of sea scapes

 

Looking left

she moves straight

away from sand-patterned shore

 

a figure of memory 

lost in swaying future lines