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PREFACE
"What is Visionary Art?" a friend of mine asked me during a
late-night conversation at the Abbey Bookshop in Paris.
My interlocutor, Guy Livingston, was a contemporary
musician, seriously dedicated to his art, and his question
deserved a seriously considered response. It was then
that I realized how, despite having painted visionary
works all my life, I couldn't easily articulate what I did.
The need for this manifesto was born.
In between working on my paintings, I began
researching and translating the writings of other
Visionary artists - finding that they too had struggled to
define what they did, though no simple formula readily
appeared. Usually, at three or four in the morning, I
would wake up with certain phrases going through my
mind - 'seeing the unseen','le sur-visuel'. And, terrible
insomniac that I am, I would not sleep again until I had
written them down. (Indeed, as I write this, it is again
three o'clock in the morning...) Such phrases, definitions,
and even 'a history' of Visionary Art were recorded in
my journals, awaiting the day when they would finally be
arranged as a manifesto.
Then, quite by surprise, I found myself in the south
of France, studying under Prof. Ernst Fuchs, the eldest
and perhaps greatest practitioner of our art. (If I had
properly interpreted certain omens in my dreams, I
would have seen that all of this was forthcoming...). And
it was here, in his studio on the 'Quai des Artistes'in
Monaco that the manifesto finally took shape, inspired in
part by conversations with him.
Nevertheless, I have left the words 'a first draft'
above the title, because I don't believe this work to be
definitive in any way. In fact, I invite other practitioners
of our art to contribute where possible - amending what
is lacking, advancing what is dated, and creating
together a statement that could be definitive and
complete.
If, in the end, this is not possible, and I have only
succeeded in sparking controversy, discussion, and
debate, then this too would fulfill my original intentions.
L. Caruana
Monaco 2001
_______________________________________
First Draft of
A MANIFESTO
OF VISIONARY ART
PART I:
WHAT IS VISIONARY ART?
Where Surrealists tried to elevate the dream-state into a
higher reality (and opposed the use of narcotics) the
Visionary artist uses all means at his disposal - even at
great risk to himself - to access different states of
consciousness and expose the resulting vision. Art of the
Visionary attempts to show what lies beyond the
boundary of our sight. Through dream, trance, or other
altered states, the artist attempts to see the unseen -
attaining a visionary state that transcends our regular
modes of perception. The task awaiting him, thereafter,
is to communicate his vision in a form recognizable to
'everyday sight'.
The history of Visionary art is characterized by the
attempt to find a new visual language - a language that
may overcome the inherent contradiction (of seeing what
cannot be seen) and express in visual form the 'supra-
visual' or, as we might say in French, le 'sur-visuel'. In
such a language, the images of art, myth, and dream
interfuse, different cultural symbols combine, and new
forms are found so as to express the resulting vision -- be
that sacred, psychedelic, esoteric, oneiric, occult,
alternative, archetypal, primitive, transpersonal,
fantastic or - as it sometimes happens - surreal.
All visionary artists are united by this spirit of on-
going experimentation. And their works bear testimony
to those mind-altering, soul-shattering but potentially
enlightening experiences which may transpire over the
course of each experiment.
The aim of these experiments is to bring alternative
states of consciousness to reality. Or rather, to bear
witness to other realites which are made evident in
alternative states of consciousness. Hence, the images,
colours, reflections, modes of perceiving and indeed the
insights which the artist himself has witnessed in a
dream, vision, trance, revelation, mediumistic or drug-
induced state are what he seeks to reproduce in a plastic
medium, so as to give it a more or less permanent reality
'here', in the world of our shared perceptions and spoken
dialogues.
The artist on such a 'vision quest' is not seeking
images for their own sake. Rather, the images uprise
during his life-long journey to the Sacred, offering him
entrance to a higher, spiritual realm. These images offer
a gradual awakening to life's underlying holiness - what
Aldous Huxley called 'the sacramental vision of reality'(2)
The God appearing in such momentary visions is not the
'Our Father' of traditional religions, but a metanoic
(literally, 'mind-altering') experience of the Sacred,
threatening to blast apart the very vessel into which it is
being poured.
Unprepared though endowed with this strange gift
for 'seeing', the visionary artist finds himself isolated - an
outcast prone to unusual insights. He is, by nature, an
outsider, a wanderer, a derelict. And yet, for a few brief
moments between the Genesis and Apocalypse, he may
enter into union with the Creator, bear witness to the
timeless and eternal Unity that holds it all together. By
recording such a momentary awakening in a work of art,
he fixes, indeed 'freezes' that singular epiphany into an
image for all to share.
Such an image then stands as a doorway, which other
similarily-inclined individuals may once more attempt to
'enter through'.
To enter through the image is to momentarily regain
the vision which the artist experienced at the outset.
What is more, the beholder may re-enter the state of
mind, even the state of being, which the artist first
experienced. Such a 'mystic participation' is possible
because the inscape underlying the artist's experience is
not imagined, but real - only hidden, altered, even
obstructed from our view."Man has closed himself up,"
Blake says, "till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of
his cavern." But - as his well-known phrase adjoins -"If
the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would
appear to man as it is, infinite."(3) In another re-phrasing
of this stirring declaration, Blake says that "Five
windows light the cavern'd Man" - that is, the five senses,
which he refers to elsewhere as"inlets of the soul" (4) But
- "thro' one (he) can look and see small portions of the
eternal world..." (5) Painting offers us a doorway into
that hidden realm. It stills our wandering eye,
concentrates it onto an image, offers it a more timeless
way of seeing. Once the original vision is regained - and
the threshold of the image is crossed - we find ourselves
standing once more on the shared, timeless ground of the
visionary experience.
As such, the images and fragments of texts gathered
here are nothing more than sketches - drawn from
different angles and over various points in time - of an
'invisible landscape' which we, as visionary artists, have
crossed countless times over the course of our shared
journeys.
VISIONS OF DARKNESS
VISIONS OF LIGHT
PART II:
SOURCES OF
VISIONARY EXPERIENCE
DREAMS
Perhaps the oldest sources of imagery - a vast, fascinating
territory that, to this day, remains largely unexplored - is
dreams. The Old Testament tells us how dreams, like
'Jacob's ladder', may offer a series of oneiric images, a
'ladder of vision' leading to the Absolute. Blake rendered
this vision into form as a spiralling staircase, evolving
and revolving into the highest heavens.
From Classical times, such dreams were recognized
and classified into their respective types: the visum or
phantasma, constituting a normal night's dream; the
insomnium or enypnion, offering instead nightmares and
anxiety. Then came the more fascinating somnium or
oneiros, "an enigmatic dream... that conceals with strange
shapes and veils with ambiguity the true meaning of the
information being offered, and requires an interpretation
for its understanding." (67) Greater still came the visio or
horama - a prophetic vision verified by subsequent
events. And finally, at the highest level, appeared the
oraculum or chrematismos, in which a sacred person, or
even the Sacred itself, broke upon the dreamer in a
momentary epiphany.
As the visionary artist opens himself gradually to the
presence of the Sacred in his life, his dreams too may
reveal the increasing presence of the Numinous. We have
already recounted how Fuchs, at a most difficult period
in his life, saw in his dreams a colusses and, later, an
angel. These were no normal dreams. As he recounts, "I
dreamt in a way which I had never dreamt before: strong
and colourful, glowing..."(68) And, in a fascinating
passage from Architectura Caelestis, he elaborates, "My
encounters with the phantastic, with that world which the
corporal eye rarely or never sees... had always taken place
before on a different level: on... the painting or drawing
surface, the plate on which images impressed themselves
'automatically' as in a state of trance... Never before had I
dreamt so violently, never seen such a vision, had never
before 'really', with 'open eyes' been transferred into this
other world. For, I am sure of this, such a dream is not
seen in sleep, the state of the dreamer is awake, a brightly
awake one..." (69) These two dreams, like visio or
oracula, were so evocative of the Sacred, that all other
visionary experiences paled by comparison. And he
testifies, "The power of these dreams, especially the
second dream, surpassed by far anything which I had
experienced under the influence of drugs." (70)
Where the Surrealists were primarily inspired by
Freud's writings on dreams, the Fantastic Realists had
Jung's latest discoveries to spur them onward to new
dimensions of consciousness. And so, while the early
dream-works of Dali manifest much of the repressed
sexual imagery uncovered by Freud, the fantastic works
of the early Fuchs, by contrast, revealed the sacred
images of alchemy which Jung had recently uncovered in
dreams. (For example, Jung's Psychology and Alchemy
which, with its many plates and engravings, led Fuchs
onward to new experiments in imagery with his unicorn
engravings of the fifties).
During his own 'confrontation with the unconscious',
Jung spiralled down into deeper and deeper strata of the
mind, discovering there the collective imagery of dreams.
However, during the process, many of the images
upwelling from his dreams and fantasies remained a
mystery to him. After seeing a horned, bearded prophet
flying through the sky with four keys in his hands, he
responded in a curious manner: "Since I did not
understand this dream-image," he wrote,"I painted it."
(71) A series of dream and fantasy images followed, all
rendered into art. This culminated in a revelatory dream
where Jung visited a city shaped like a mandala, with a
sacred tree growing from its centre. "Out of (this
dream)," Jung wrote, "emerged the first inkling of my
personal myth." (72) This was the beginning, the moment
of discovery, the emergence of his own creative
psychology. Years later he remaked that "the years when
I was pursuing my inner images were the most important
in my life." (73)
Through the further researches of Eliade and
Campbell, this creative interplay between art, myth, and
dream has been expored to ever-greater depths over the
last century."Imagery, especially the imagery of dreams,"
Campbell remarked, "is the basis of mythology."(74) And
Eliade echoed this sentiment: "In the oneiric universe, we
find again and again the symbols, the images, the figures
and events of which mythologies are constituted." (75) By
documenting the evolution of imagery in their dreams,
visionary artists have contributed to this impetus -
offering a rich array of imagery from the darkest depths
of the unconsious and leading their beholders,
unexpectedly, to the light. Through the on-going
impression of image after image onto canvas, an artist
could gradually discover his own life-myth: a myth that
would reveal to him, ultimately, the Sacred underlying
his life. For "Myth," Jung recognized "is the revelation of
a divine life in man."(76)
Hence, the visionary artist descends nightly into the
underworld of dreams, arising each morning with new
possible sources for his works. Though some dreams are
difficult to remember, another species of dreams are
almost impossible to forget. This is especially true of
'lucid dreams', which have become increasingly
documented lately. Though Hervey de Saint-Denys
(1851) was the first and probably most-indepth
researcher of lucid dreams, Stephan Laberge has
emerged lately as their greatest champion. In a
characteristically lucid dream, the dreamer suddenly
'wakes up' within the dream, becoming strangely aware
of his state of dreaming. To a degree, he may even begin
to control its actions and events. The obvious advantage,
for Visionary artists, is the possibility of exploring
dream-imagery much more deeply. While Saint-Denys
used the technique to confront demons from his
nightmares, LaBerge used it instead to soar to new
heights of awareness and experience.
During his two revelatory dreams, Fuchs also felt
that 'he was awake' and seeing things 'with eyes open'.
Indeed, he "...was overcome by a high feeling at the very
beginning of the dream," (77) a sensation of 'supra-
consciousness' which, afterwards, caused him to reflect:
"What I have seen and experienced in this dream is still
far above my consciousness and knowledge."(78)
In fact, the higher world revealed to him in these two
dreams caused him, thereafter, to seek all means of
visionary experience, discovering a hidden link between
dream and drug states: "Of one thing I was sure...
between the two experiences (spheres) - the visionary
dream and the drug - there was a strong connection,
dream and hashish-ecstasy had to do with one another.
From then on, for about two years, I looked for these
states of ecstasy 'by all means' and experimented with
almost all hallucinatory drugs." (79)
But, no sooner had the two states come together then
they began to conflict. Soon, drugs offered him only
'stolen glimpses' of that higher world which dreams had
once made visible. "I knew or anticipated that the world
for which I was looking had a gate, and the drug was only
a ladder for thieves who, in order to 'steal', climbed over
the wall because they did not know the gate or did not have
the key for it.(...) I wanted to get rid of the bothersome
feeling of dependence, find a legitimate access to this
world, the only key to which seemed to be the drug... I
knew it from my dream which I had experienced without
drugs - there had to be other ways (...) Above all, I tried the
track of the permanence of the daily time of work... I
concentrated on the fixation of my picture surface." (80)
In the end, it was meditation - particularly
meditation upon the images he was painting - which
opened the gateway once more unto the world, so
desparately sought, of visionary experience. And so, with
this cautionary reminder, let us concentrate once more
on the types of visions induced through psychedelics.
HALLUCINOGENS
READING
Most of us take reading so for granted that we forget the
Visionary states it may induce. It is not merely a
question of imagining the worlds which words may
conjure - although that too is a visionary act. As Gustave
Moreau reminds us, "I am all the more for dreams, for
phantasmagorias of the imagination which I bring to my
reading, with its many tales of lost and far-off civilizations
- a naïvité, an impulsive child-like acceptance of
everything unbelievable. ...How else could we dream of
India, of the forests of the New World, of fantastic islands
in the Indian Ocean or antedeluvian flowers in the heart
of Africa..." (93)
As we read, words trigger images from our memory.
But the simple word 'temple' for example, in all its
emptiness and generality, may conjure up a whole series
of specific memory-images in any one person - each
image finely-detailed and described. Meanwhile, the very
same word may evoke an entirely different series of
memory-images in another person. Such is the power of
the imagination. Where these two people begin to share
their memory-images is at the level of art: actually
building such a temple communally, or rendering it into
a painted image recognizable to us all (and thus, a
'communal vision').
As we read, our art and imagination render into form
those mysterious worlds which words describe or denote.
But, moving beyond that, our art and imagination may
conjure up new worlds which words cannot describe -
things beyond all verbal description. As we read, we are
free to digress in our imagination, following chains of
imagery and creating new combinations which
eventually result in thoughts unheard of in the spoken
language. As in dreams, we may begin to think in an
image-language.
More fascinating still is the realization that we, while
reading, must imagine the correspondence between the
word and the world. We suppose it, we imagine it, and as
we read, we picture it to ourselves - as if it were really
there. But does such a connection actually exist?
While under the influence of hallucinagenic
mushrooms, Terrence McKenna imagined that he could
actually see this correspondence: "Things such as the
normally invisible syntactical web that holds both
language and the world together can condense or change
its ontological status and become visible," McKenna
wrote.(94) In a similar way, while living on the island of
Mallorca, Mati Klarwein "saw the entire coast, one
sunny afternoon, composed of Hebrew texts," and for the
probable reason that "I had ingested a wild dose... which
altered my state of consciousness for a while." (95) He
rendered this experience in two paintings: one of the
landscape itself, which he titled Landscape Perceived, and
the other of the same supposed landscaped, which now
was only composed of spiralling Hebrew letters. The
latter he called Landscape Described.
The images of this diptych invite us to ask: are words
able to describe all that we perceive? Indeed, "Is
language the adequate expression for all realities?" - as
Nietzsche asked.(96) Despite the unquestionable power
of language - to name, to model - is not the majority of
our seeing done 'without language'.
And, if this is the case, is it not possible that the only
correspondence which exists between words and the
world is one that we imagine? Meanwhile images may,
perhaps, possess a direct way of seeing - one which is
denied to words, indeed 'beyond words'. Huxley thought
as much. Despite the fact that he was nearly blind, and
made his living by writing words, under the influence of
mescaline he pronounced, "We must learn how to handle
words effectively; but at the same time we must preserve
and, if necessary, intensify our ability to look at the world
directly and not through that half-opaque medium of
concepts." (97) In fact, Huxley came to mistrust language
profoundly, seeing its inherited, shared perception of the
world as"a reducing valve" (98) for the otherwise
substance-expanded mind.
The alternative: 'To see the world directly' - but
how? In another passage, Huxley offers a clue. Under the
effects of mescalin, "visual impressions are greatly
intensified, and the eye recovers some of the perceptual
innocense of childhood," (99) he writes. The way a child
sees the world, particularly a new-born baby, is - we
must remember - without language. It is also a way of
seeing without identity, perspective, space or time.
While painting his hundreds of flower pictures,
Fuchs described how "slowly feeling my way, my mind's
eye directed inwardly toward submerged forgotten images
of youth, toward earliest childhood, I came sporadically to
see that world again - a world having no purpose but to be
marvellous. The objects, the characters, and the
experiences had no names... I reminded myself that I too
had no name, that I did not know who I was in those first
days of discovery of this world. In that phase of childhood,
without having developed the beginnings of a personality,
the soul of a child relates unhindered to the wonder of the
world."
And he went on to elaborate how "Experiences of
that sort returned to my memory: my own stammering,
shrieking and laughter - all sounds not yet words, waiting
to be learned and ordered... At the threshold of my return
to childhood, I saw those roses again. I returned - I
crawled - under the high roof of the bower that my parents
had built as a sign of beauty, unconsciously remembering
their own childhood. And I found it again: the God-like
child playing with his gifts, worshipped by holy kings - in
this case gardeners, fathers, or uncles. I saw the child
playing in the water, immersed in the crystalline sparkle of
the liquid element. This recognition let me forget all the
evil; no pain, no threat could reach the heavenly child. He
reached toward the amazed eye of his mother, dug his
fingers deep into her lip, and laughed over her
exclamations of pain - reaching the world, touching the
world, understanding it without words." (100)
THE ANCIENT IMAGE-LANGUAGE
Here we have the beginnings of a purely visual language - the
new-born's need for exploration, and the necessity for
him to create. Visionary art explores the many possible
ways we may combine images, in order to think further
through them. It seeks to create new images, which will
become part of our shared visual vocabulary. Combining
cultural styles, juxtaposing symbols, re-picturing myths
to ourselves - these give our visual language its grammar,
and allow for shared meaning.
Understanding the history of visionary art means
reading the hidden signs and recovering their lost
meanings. We begin to understand why Bosch made
plants as if from metal, why Klarwein saw the world as if
in Kabbalistic script, or why De Es' made his stonemen
suddenly transparent to light.
The visual language is a lost language, like cyphers
undecyphered. But it underlies all that we dream each
night. It invisibly appears whenever the images of vision
flow in a meaningful way. It emerges from madness. And
the images drawn from these visions or dreams and then
rendered into art - these begin to make the private
image-language of each person a shared understanding
and a communal experience.
From the trackless ways in the invisible dessert, the
solitary wanderers are slowly emerging. Their many
paths are crossing and combining. And, with child-like
wonderment, they find themselves sharing the same
horizon. The landscape they stand upon, though
invisible, is seen by all - for it is the ancient image-
language that allows them, together, to speak,
communicate, and comprehend. Even song is added to
their speech, as their artworks become ancient image-
poems offering visions of the beginning, middle, and end
of all things. This ancient image-language, otherwise
forgotten is now being spoken once more.
APPENDIX
L. Caruana
Atelier Fuchs,
Monaco, 2001
REFERENCES
1. Arthur Rimbaud, 'letter', cited in Colin Wilson, The
Outsider, Victor Gollancz publ, 1956, p. 230.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton,1954, p. 19
William Blake, 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell' in The
Portable Blake, ed. by Alfred Kazin, Viking Penguin,
1946, p. 258.
Ibid. p. 250.
Ibid. p. 315.
Ernst Fuchs, Im Zeichen der Sphinx, DTV verlag, author's
translation, p. 49.
Mati Klarwein, Mil Ventanas / A Thousand Windows, Max
Publishing, text to painting 'No Man's Land'.
Alex Grey, The Mission of Art, Shambhala Publications
Philip Rubinov-Jacobson, Drinking Lightning, Interface Press,
2000, p. 37, 42.
Ernst Fuchs, 'Fuchs on Fuchs' in Fuchs de Draeger, Draeger
Editeur, 1977, p. 101.
De Es, 'Artist's Statement 1974' Heavy Light, Morpheus
International, 1993, p. 32.
Ernst Fuchs,Architectura Caelestis, Residenz Verlag, p. 161.
William Blake, 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell' in The
Portable Blake, ed. by Alfred Kazin, Viking Penguin,
1946, p. 258.
Ernst Fuchs in Robert Venosa, Illuminatus, Interface Press, p. 13.
Ibid. p.12.
Alex Grey, The Mission of Art, Shambhala Publications
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton, 1954, p. 106.
Ibid. p. 107.
Ibid. p. 108.
Ibid. p. 110.
H.R. Giger, Necronomicon, Big O publishing, 1978, p. 6.
Ibid. p. 6.
Ibid. p. 6.
Ibid. p. 3.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton,1954, p. 107.
Stanislav Grof, LSD Psychotherapy, Hunter House, 1980. p. 219.
Ibid. p. 78.
Ibid. p. 78.
Ibid. p. 79.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton,1954, p. 108.
Stanislav Grof, LSD Psychotherapy, Hunter House, 1980. p. 80.
Ibid. p. 83.
Ibid. p. 83.
Ibid. p. 84.
Robert Venosa, Illuminatus, Interface Press, p. 231.
William Blake, 'Jerusalem' in The Portable Blake, ed. by Alfred
Kazin, Viking Penguin, 1946, p. 459.
Ernst Fuchs, Im Zeichen der Sphinx, DTV verlag, author's
translation, p. 28.
De Es, 'Artist's Statement 1974' Heavy Light, Morpheus
International, 1993, p. 32.
Alex Grey, The Mission of Art, Shambhala Publications
Johfra, Astrologie: Tierkreiszeichen, Verlag Marco Aldinger,
1981, p. 3. Author's translation
William Blake, 'Marginal Note' in Kathleen Raine, William
Blake, Oxford University Press, 1970, p. 18.
William Blake, 'Letter to George Cumberland' in Kathleen
Raine, William Blake, Oxford University Press, 1970, p.
27.
William Blake in Kathleen Raine, William Blake, Oxford
University Press, 1970, p. 14, 15.
Gustave Moreau in 'Un Ouvrier Assembleur de Reves' Gustave
Moreau, intro. and catalogue by Pierre-Louis Mathieu,
Flammarion, 1991, p. 14. Author's translation.
Ibid. p. 7.
Ibid. p. 7.
'The Book of Revelation', The Holy Bible, Revised Standard
Version, Catholic Truth Society, 1946
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell,
Triad Grafton,1954, p. 73.
Ibid. p. 79.
Ibid. p. 90.
Ibid. p. 80.
Ernst Fuchs, Paradiso, Gotz GmbH, 1998, p. 32. Author's
translation.
H.R. Giger, Necronomicon, Big O publishing, 1978, p. 18.
Ernst Fuchs, Architectura Caelestis, Residenz Verlag, p. 165.
Mati Klarwein, Mil Ventanas / A Thousand Windows, Max
Publishing, text to painting 'Angels'.
Ernst Fuchs in Robert Venosa, Illuminatus, Interface Press, p.
218.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton,1954, p. 48.
Ernst Fuchs, Planeta Caelestis, Edition q, Berlin, 1987, p. 7.
Mati Klarwein, Mil Ventanas / A Thousand Windows, Max
Publishing, text to painting 'Night in Tunisia'.
Terrence McKenna, True Hallucinations, Harper SanFrancisco,
1994, p. 149.
Ibid. p. 126.
Ibid. p. 208.
Ibid. p. 122.
Joseph Campbell, 'Schizophrenia - The Inward Journey' in
Myths to Live By, Bantam Books, 1972, p. 208.
Ibid. p. 225.
Ibid. p. 229.
Macrobius, (I. III. 10) Commentary on the Dream of Scipio,
translated by William H Stahl, Columbia University
Press, 1990, p. 90.
Ernst Fuchs, Architectura Caelestis, Residenz Verlag, p. 162.
Ibid. p. 162.
Ibid. p. 172.
C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Vintage Books, 1961,
p. 183.
Ibid. p. 199.
Ibid. p. 199.
Joseph Campbell, The Mythic Image, Bollongen Series C,
Princeton University Press, 1974, back cover.
Mircea Eliade, Myths, Dreams, and Mysteries: The Encounter
Between Contemporary Faiths and Archaic
Realities,translated by Philip Mairet, Harper
Torchbooks, 1960, p. 14.
C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Vintage Books, 1961,
p. 340.
Ernst Fuchs, Architectura Caelestis, Residenz Verlag, p. 162.
Ibid. p. 162.79.
Ibid. p. 165.
Ibid. pp. 169 - 170, passim.
Stanislav Grof, LSD Psychotherapy, Hunter House, 1980. p. 269.
Robert Graves, Greek Myths, vol I, Penguin Books, 1955,
pp. 9 - 10.
Stanislav Grof, LSD Psychotherapy, Hunter House, 1980. pp. 85,
86.
Ibid. p. 242.
Ken Wilber, A Brief History of Everything, Shambhala
Publications, 1996, p. 203.
Ibid. p. 218.
Ibid. p. 220.
Ibid. p. 222.
Ibid. p. 224.
Ibid. p. 228.
Ibid. p. 230.
De Es, 'Artist's Statement 1974' Heavy Light, Morpheus
International, 1993, p. 32.
Ibid. p. 32.
Gustave Moreau in 'Un Ouvrier Assembleur de Reves' Gustave
Moreau, intro. and catalogue by Pierre-Louis Mathieu,
Flammarion, 1991, p. 14. Author's translation.
Terrence McKenna, True Hallucinations, Harper SanFrancisco,
1994, p. 73.
Mati Klarwein, Mil Ventanas / A Thousand Windows, Max
Publishing, text to painting 'Landscape
Perceived/Described'.
Friedrich Nietzsche, 'On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral
Sense', The Portable Nietzsche, edited and translated by
W. Kaufmann, Viking Penguin, 1964, p. 45.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception / Heaven and Hell, Triad
Grafton,1954, p. 60.
Ibid. p. 20.
Ibid. p. 21.
Ernst Fuchs, Planeta Caelestis, Edition q, Berlin, 1987, pp. 7 - 9.
passim.
Ernst Fuchs, Im Zeichen der Sphinx, DTV verlag, author's
translation, p. 21.
De Es, Heavy Light, Morpheus International, 1993, p. 6.
Ernst Fuchs, Im Zeichen der Sphinx, DTV verlag, author's
translation, p. 24.
Ibid. p. 21, authors's translation.
Rudolf Hausner, Ich, Adam, DTV verlag, p. 89, author's
translation.
Terrence McKenna, True Hallucinations, Harper SanFrancisco,
1994, p. 142.