Today, I post my 666th post on JSVB. I'm glad it wasn't yesterday's post with the religious icon. The number 666 is problematic for several religions and cultures. Popularly, it is said to be "the number of the Beast", Satan. Recent archaeological study bears out the possibility that the early translations of Christian scripture may have been in error, and that the evil number is actually 616 and was likely a coded reference to the Roman Emperor Caligula. To see JSVB Post #616, please click here.
The more value we place on information, whether we seek to share it or to withhold it, the more powerful symbols become. Today, we accept symbols of good and evil at face value in large part because we don't appreciate where they came from. For instance, artists such as Albrecht Dürer and William Blake have provided us with archetypes of demonic creatures that we see copied in today's popular media. In the Renaissance, Donatello was considered primarily responsible for creating the popular form of angels, along with Botticelli's mystical influences. We place comic demons and angels on our shoulders as funny stereotypes of how the human heart becomes pulled in diametric opposites. We don't put much reasoning into what these symbols truly represent.
Some years ago, I found myself going to an unfamiliar church. There, the priest was very new. In his homily, he was explaining his favourite office decoration, which happened to be a cheap-looking witch doll of the type you see for sale when Hallowe'en rolls around. Witches and priests generally do not mix, as Christians consider the Wiccan faith as paganism.
The priest told the story behind the doll. It had originally belonged to a little girl he had known. The girl was in a cancer ward for treatment. She had been living in the hospital for most of her young life. Last year, she had decided on dressing up as a witch for Hallowe'en. Her course of medication had caused her hair to fall out and her skin to become lumpy and discoloured, so she figured that a witch costume would be a logical choice. She planned on stomping around Oncology in her pointed hat and cape and scaring the other children into better health. Chemotherapy forced the little girl to be bedridden at the end of October, so she couldn't be a witch for Hallowe'en. To make up for this, her parents picked up for her as a present a small toy witch doll from the hospital gift shop.
The witch quickly became the girl's pet mascot. She kept it day and night through the following months, and it became a silent bedside witness to treatment after treatment for the cancer that refused to abide. By summer, the girl was at peace with the fate that waits for us all, and she decided to stage a small ceremony to divide up and give away what remained of her belongings. She chose to give her best friend the witch away to her priest. It was a gift of purest love.
Since then, the witch has been the constant companion of the priest. The witch symbolizes many things: the commercialism of Hallowe'en, and perhaps the long-standing pagan influences on our culture. Above all, to this man, the witch was a reminder of the peace and love that the child had shared from her hospital room. At the end, the girl had discovered a depth of spirit that swept away her physical cares and the enabled the means to share herself with complete freedom and love. The witch had become more powerful as a statement of love than it ever would be as a toy.
As an artist, I frequently work with symbols and semiotics. I try to reflect my own values into the graphic representations I create. Pictures and least of all words fail to express the emotion and power suffusing that strange and nervous priest on the Sunday he felt the need to justify his witch doll to the congregation. There are powerful hidden forces at work in our world, I believe, for evil and for good. The values that we place on our own everyday possessions and interactions become much greater with the personal discovery and nourishment of spirit. Put in words, this statement seems to me sentimental and trite. Put into action and shared freely, this seems to me a step to becoming a better artist, a better citizen, and a better person.
The witch quickly became the girl's pet mascot. She kept it day and night through the following months, and it became a silent bedside witness to treatment after treatment for the cancer that refused to abide. By summer, the girl was at peace with the fate that waits for us all, and she decided to stage a small ceremony to divide up and give away what remained of her belongings. She chose to give her best friend the witch away to her priest. It was a gift of purest love.
Since then, the witch has been the constant companion of the priest. The witch symbolizes many things: the commercialism of Hallowe'en, and perhaps the long-standing pagan influences on our culture. Above all, to this man, the witch was a reminder of the peace and love that the child had shared from her hospital room. At the end, the girl had discovered a depth of spirit that swept away her physical cares and the enabled the means to share herself with complete freedom and love. The witch had become more powerful as a statement of love than it ever would be as a toy.
As an artist, I frequently work with symbols and semiotics. I try to reflect my own values into the graphic representations I create. Pictures and least of all words fail to express the emotion and power suffusing that strange and nervous priest on the Sunday he felt the need to justify his witch doll to the congregation. There are powerful hidden forces at work in our world, I believe, for evil and for good. The values that we place on our own everyday possessions and interactions become much greater with the personal discovery and nourishment of spirit. Put in words, this statement seems to me sentimental and trite. Put into action and shared freely, this seems to me a step to becoming a better artist, a better citizen, and a better person.
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