Renaissance Magic and Alchemy in the Works of Female Surrealist Remedios Varo

Home , Antonella, Frida Kahlo, Head of a Woman (Bosch), Jean Arp, Leonora Carrington, Mary the Jewess

RENAISSANCE MAGIC AND ALCHEMY IN THE WORKS OF FEMALE

SURREALIST REMEDIOS VARO

______

A Thesis

Presented

to the Faculty of

California State University, Dominguez Hills

______

In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Master of Arts

Humanities

______

Tammy M. Ngo

Fall 2019

THESIS: RENAISSANCE MAGIC AND ALCHEMY IN THE WORKS OF FEMALE SURREALIST REMEDIOS VARO

AUTHOR: TAMMY M. NGO

APPROVED:

______Patricia Gamon, Ph.D Thesis Committee Chair

______Kirstin Ellsworth, Ph.D Committee Member

______Kimberly Bohman-Kalaja, Ph.D Committee Member

Dedicated to Professor Lawrence Klepper

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to express my special thanks of gratitude to my advisor Professor Patricia

Gamon, Ph.D., Humanities, Art History. In addition, to my family and friends who supported me during my thesis research, thank you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... IV

TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... V

LIST OF FIGURES ...... VI

ABSTRACT ...... X

1. INTRODUCTION ...... 1

2. SURREALISM ...... 10

3. WOMEN SURREALISTS ...... 19

4. REMEDIOS VARO ...... 30

Before Mexico ...... 31 After Mexico ...... 38

5. MAGIC, ALCHEMY, AND THE ART OF THE RENAISSANCE...... 44

6. RENAISSANCE MAGIC AND ALCHEMY IN THE WORKS OF REMEDIOS VARO ... 90

Harmony ...... 90 Creation of Birds ...... 118 Still Life Reviving...... 137

7. CHAPTER 7 CONCLUSION...... 148

WORKS CITED ...... 153

LIST OF FIGURES

1. Jean Arp, Untitled (Collage with Squares Arranged according to the Laws of Chance), 1917...... 12

2. Hannah Höch, Cut with the Dada Kitchen Knife through the Last Weimar Beer-Belly Cultural Epoch, 1919 ...... 13

3. André Masson, Birth of Birds, 1925 ...... 15

4. Giorgio de Chirico, Mystery and Melancholy of a Street, 1914 ...... 16

5. René Magritte, The Empire of Light II, 1950...... 16

6. Salvador Dalí, The Persistence of Memory, 1931...... 18

7. L’Ecriture Automatique, 1927 ...... 23

8. Salvador Dalí, The Great Masturbator, 1929–1932 ...... 24

9. Man Ray, Erotique Voilée, 1933 ...... 24

10. Leonora Carrington, Self-Portrait, 1938 ...... 26

11. Frida Kahlo, The Broken Column, 1944 ...... 28

12. Remedios Varo, The Encounter, 1959 ...... 29

13. Remedios Varo, 1908–1963...... 30

14. Remedios Varo, Untitled, pencil drawing...... 32

15. Remedios Varo, Rabbit, 1923 ...... 33

16. Remedios Varo, Souls of the Mountains, 1938 ...... 36

17. Remedios Varo, Souvenir of Valkyrie, 1938 ...... 37

18. Remedios Varo, Insomnia, 1947 ...... 40

19. Remedios Varo, Eyes on a Table, 1938 ...... 40

20. Remedios Varo, The Useless Science or the Alchemist, 1955 ...... 42

21. Masaccio, The Expulsion of Adam and Eve, 1424–1427 ...... 46

22. Donatello, David, 1440–1460 ...... 47

23. Masaccio, The Tribute Money, 1425...... 49

24. Raphael, School of Athens, 1509...... 49

25. Jan van Eyck, Arnolfini Portrait, 1434 ...... 50

26. Alchemy Equipment ...... 57

27. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, 1490–1500 ...... 64

28. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, External Panel ...... 66

29. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, Central Panel ...... 70

30. Alembic Device ...... 70

31. Egg 1, The Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 71

32. Egg 2, The Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 71

33. Egg 3, The Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 71

34. Alchemical Retort ...... 72

35. Athanor Furnace...... 72

36. Bride and Groom, The Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 73

37. Albrecht Dürer, Silverpoint Self-Portrait, 1484 ...... 75

38. Albrecht Dürer, Melencolia I, 1514 ...... 76

39. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Tower of Babel, 1568 ...... 80

40. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Alchemist, 1558 ...... 83

41. Lorenzo Costa the Elder, Expedition of Argonauts, 1484–90 ...... 85

42. Naldini, Allegory of Dreams, 1537–91 ...... 86

43. Remedios Varo, Harmony, 1956 ...... 91

44. Leon Battista Alberti, Basilica of Sant’ Andrea, 1472–1790, Exterior ...... 92

45. Leon Battista Alberti, Basilica of Sant’ Andrea, 1472–1790, Interior ...... 92

46. Jean Miélot at His Desk ...... 93

47. Antonello da Messina, Saint Jerome in His Study, 1475 ...... 94

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48. Albrecht Dürer, Saint Jerome in His Study, 1514 ...... 95

49. Detail of Harmony ...... 99

50. Bezoar Stones...... 101

51. Hortus Sanitatis, Strassburg, c. 1507 ...... 101

52. Seedling Mandrake ...... 103

53. Remedios Varo, For My Friend Agustin Lazo, 1945...... 104

54. Remedios Varo, Cosmic Energy, 1956 ...... 105

55. Satyr and Dionysus, c. fifth century BC ...... 106

56. Lorenzo Lotto, Venus and Cupid, 1540 ...... 107

57. Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus, 1484–86 ...... 109

58. Remedios Varo, The Flutist, 1955 ...... 110

59. Picture Bible, c. 1244–1254 ...... 114

60. Book of Hours, c. 1473 ...... 114

61. Nicolas Dipre, The Dream of Jacob, c. 1500 ...... 115

62. Splendor Solis, 1582 ...... 116

63. Alembics, Harmony ...... 117

64. Alembic Structure, Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 117

65. Remedios Varo, Creation of Birds, 1957...... 118

66. Saint Mary Magdalene at Her Writing Desk ...... 120

67. Bird 1, Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony ...... 121

68. Bird 2, Garden of Earthly Delights...... 121

69. Remedios Varo, The Encounter, 1962 ...... 122

70. Remedios Varo, Nocturnal Hunt, 1958 ...... 122

71. Remedios Varo, The Little Owl, 1957 ...... 123

72. The Four Elements Symbols ...... 125

viii

73. Seal of Solomon Symbol ...... 125

74. Museum Hermeticum Reformatum et Amplificatum, 1678...... 126

75. Heinrich Nollisu, Rebis, 1617 ...... 128

76. Remedios Varo, Celestial Pablum, 1958 ...... 129

77. Remedios Varo, To Be Reborn, 1960 ...... 130

78. Conrad Gesner, Double Alchemical Vessel, c. 1560 ...... 131

79. Conrad Gesner, Double Alchemical Vessel on Side, c. 1560 ...... 132

80. Alembic Illustration 1, Elixir Vitae ...... 132

81. Alembic Illustration 2, Elixir Vitae ...... 133

82. Alembic, Creation of Birds ...... 133

83. Remedios Varo, Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle, 1961 ...... 134

84. Remedios Varo, Discovery of Mutant Geologists...... 134

85. The Tetractys Formation ...... 135

86. Remedios Varo, Still Life Reviving, 1963 ...... 137

87. Castel del Monte ...... 139

88. Castel del Monte, Interior ...... 139

89. Remedios Varo, Unexpected Visit, 1958 ...... 140

90. Detail of Strawberry, Garden of Earthly Delights ...... 143

91. Engraving 1 of Copernicus theory, Harmonia Macrocosmica, 1660 ...... 144

92. Engraving 2 of Copernicus theory, Harmonia Macrocosmica, 1660 ...... 144

93. Remedios Varo, Spiral Transit, 1962 ...... 146

94. Lapis Sanctuary, 1674 ...... 147

ABSTRACT

This thesis argues that the works of Spanish-Mexican Surrealist artist Remedios Varo

(1908–1963) possesses transcendent qualities influenced by the culture and images of

Renaissance magic and alchemy. Varo’s incorporation of these Renaissance subjects into

Surrealism made her work unique, setting her apart from other artists of the time. Surrealism was an artistic and intellectual movement that used dreams and the unconscious to free the imagination. While these components are rooted within Varo’s art, she also used supernatural and cosmic elements. This study analyzes her life, her philosophical beliefs, and how these influenced her art. Three of her paintings, Harmony, 1956; Creation of Birds, 1957; and Still Life

Reviving, 1963, are examined to explain feasible meanings behind the images, symbols, and allegorical decorations, relating each to magic, alchemy, and culture of the Renaissance period.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

Remedios Varo (1908–1963) was a female artist whose work was notable within the

Surrealism movement between the 1920s and 1960s. Varo produced art that truly reflected both pure imagination and her individuality and beliefs by incorporating the subjects of magic and alchemy. Most studies relating to Varo’s art concur that her work entails elements of these two subjects; however, this thesis argues the transcendent nature of Varo’s art, particularly influenced by the culture and images of Renaissance magic and alchemy. I argue that her work links with these subjects and because Varo incorporated Renaissance elements into Surrealism, it set her apart from other artists of the time.

The Surrealist movement embodied the notion of free-form imagination in the creative process of many artists. Artistically and intellectually, the movement sought to free the mind and to venture into the abyss of one’s unconscious, exercising the interpretation of dreams by creating striking and at times poignant works of art, poetry, and literature. What the Surrealists emphasized was their concept or perception of the unconscious mind—the human psyche. It was this foundation that allowed artists to create a mindset liberated from the political events and social upheavals between World War I and World War II. Like-minded individuals gathered together in hopes of creating a kind of psychological independence to cope with the threatening conditions of social and political change, and those who survived were committed to ardent expression.

Renowned Surrealist figure André Breton (1896–1966), a French poet and writer, authored Le Manifeste du Surréalisme, 1924, the manifesto initiating the Surrealist movement.

Influenced by the psychoanalytic studies of neurologist Sigmund Freud (1856–1939), Le

Manifeste du Surréalisme prompted artists to explore the unconscious mind by experimenting with new methods of creating art. One method, known as the Laws of Chance, was practiced during the transition from the Dada movement (1916 to mid–1920s) to early Surrealism. This technique embraced the notion of chance, through which random compositions were produced by dropping paint or torn paper onto a surface. Other key methods of Surrealism are automatism, which is the act of drawing or writing without premeditated notions, and dream painting, the intent to interpret dreams through art to access the artists’ hidden feelings, thoughts, and desires.

Artists such as Georgio de Chirico (1888–1978), René Magritte (1898–1967), and Salvador Dalí

(1904–1989) were some of the main faces of the movement, creating fantastic works that were illusionistic, mysterious, and at times overtly erotic.

Female Surrealist artists were recognized, although they received substantially less attention than their male counterparts. These women produced works of art that displayed similar characteristics to those of the male Surrealists; however, they exemplified a narrative approach that revealed a true feminine perspective of their own realities. A trait that distinguished female

Surrealists is how they portrayed themselves and the female body in their art. Compared with some female Surrealists, the men were more inclined to utilize women as their muse and depicted the female body in an erotic and sometimes abusive fashion. In contrast, female

Surrealists lacked such aggressive eroticism and often created their narratives in the form of self- portraits, expressing their individual personal experiences. Acclaimed female artists of the

Surrealism period include Frida Kahlo (1907–1954), Remedios Varo (1908–1963), and Leonora

Carrington (1917–2011).

A native of Spain, Varo lived in France in her twenties and became a part of the French

Surrealists’ circle. She married renowned French Surrealist poet Benjamin Péret, and from the

3 dangers of World War II, she was forced to seek refuge in Mexico City, Mexico, in 1941. Ten years after her arrival in Mexico, Varo began to focus on her artistic path. She was then in her early forties. Her artistic transformation stemmed from the re-establishment of a new life in

Mexico. From friendships made with other European emigrants, such as English Surrealist

Leonora Carrington (1917–2011), to a new romantic relationship with Austrian refugee Walter

Gruen, Varo’s renewed life prompted her transformation.

Varo’s prolific work prevailed for the last ten years of her life. Her first group exhibition in Mexico was in 1955 at the Galerie Diana, Mexico City, featuring four of her paintings, which were well received by art critics. Varo was then invited to show her work in a solo exhibition at the Galerie Diana and in 1956; twelve of her paintings were showcased, captivating a large audience and giving rise to her popularity in Mexico. Her artistic success further expanded when she was asked to paint a mural at a new medical center in Mexico City. This was a momentous occasion for Varo because she was a female artist up against male muralists. The Mexican muralist scene began in the 1920s; during the 1950s, the movement remained active and was dominated by male artists. Varo’s invitation to paint the mural marked a significant shift in creative status for her and other female artists of the time.

Apart from Varo’s successes, what separates her art from those of male Surrealists is her inclusion of hermetic subject matter, which involves influences of supernatural and cosmic entities. Furthermore, Varo’s work embodies theatrical sceneries that visualize a story in an allegorical format, reflective of her biography and her beliefs. Often seen in her art is the notion of one’s journey and the search for truth, both physically and spiritually. Often, Varo portrays these elements by illustrating one or more protagonists of mastery, such as a magician, alchemist, or scientist. Her visual stories of transcendental quest and the cast of characters

4 embedded in her work are what differentiate her art from that of most male Surrealists.

As regards of the hermetic influences in Varo’s art, they are mostly connected with esoteric disciplines of magic and alchemy of the Renaissance period. During the Renaissance, magic comprised well-known beliefs and practices that entailed components of the occult and evoked mysticism, spiritual pursuits, astrological reliance, illusionistic meditations, and the intertwining of natural and supernatural elements. These beliefs at times overlapped with

Renaissance humanism, the revival of classical antiquity that first became prevalent in Italy.

Classical literature such as that by Greek philosopher Plato was studied and translated into Latin and was of high interest to Italian scholars. Italian humanist Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499), who is examined in this thesis, was a significant figure in translating such literature; he created his own philosophical writings on humanistic values and incorporated magic and astrological notions into his De vita libri tres (Three Books on Life).

Alongside magic, alchemy played a considerable role within Renaissance culture. The concept of the metamorphism of base metals into gold and the quest for an Elixir of Life were topics among alchemists. Alchemy was a method used in exploring such concepts, and it was knowledge pursued in natural philosophy, which embodied the essence and spirit of science before science became concrete in the seventeenth century.

Magic and alchemy made an appearance during the Renaissance not only culturally but also artistically. For example, the works of the Renaissance master Hieronymus Bosch (1450–

1516) involve extraordinary images that are mostly iconographic of religious concepts and human depravity. One can say that his works are whimsical and surreal in style, as many of the subjects in his art are obscure in form. Some current analyses interpret his works as having alchemical influences. This interpretation is best examined by Laurinda Dixon in Alchemical

Imagery in Bosch's Garden of Delights and “Bosch’s Garden of Delights Triptych: Remnants of a ‘Fossil’ Science,” which show how some of Bosch’s allegorical subjects signify components of medieval alchemy. Altogether, Bosch’s divergent works paved the way for artists to explore idiosyncratic talents and to broaden their imaginations, as exemplified by many of the

Surrealists.

The influential style of artists such as Bosch is prominent in Varo’s works. The visionary characters and mystical objects illustrated in her art reflect her beliefs and sometimes narrate parts of her life experience, and they demonstrate transcendent qualities, that is, they relate to a spiritual or nonphysical realm conveyed in a metaphorical manner.

Aside from Bosch, other Renaissance artists are examined whose allegorical composition is relevant to this thesis. One artist is Albrecht Dürer (1471–1578). Some of his most well-known works are engravings, which are produced by incising a design onto a hard surface or metal plate and then printing the design on paper using ink. An engraving central to interpreting magical and alchemical iconography is Dürer’s Melencolia I, 1514, of which John Read presents a comprehensive alchemical view in “Dürer’s Melencolia: An Alchemical Interpretation.” Another

Dürer engraving examined in the current thesis is Saint Jerome in His Study, 1514, of which certain objects and the artistic composition are compared with similarities in Varo’s work.

Other components influencing Varo’s work are taken from Renaissance architecture, artistic methods, and composition, also analyzed in this thesis. Varo’s paintings often depict structures that feature medieval and Renaissance characteristics, such as stone walls, arch windows and doorways, and geometrical-style buildings. She also frequently uses perspective drawing, a method of the Italian Renaissance in which the summation of objects and space are measured within a work. These artistic influences, alongside the culture of magic and alchemy,

6 are embodied in Varo’s art.

Varo’s life, philosophy, and artistic creations have been best researched by author Janet

A. Kaplan in Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo. The book offers a thorough biography of Varo and was a key source for this thesis. Kaplan’s work guided my understanding of Remedios Varo as a person, leading me to view Varo’s work not only for its visually striking external qualities but also for its internal qualities, that is, Varo’s inner self, her inner journeys and beliefs.

For readings relating to Renaissance magic, alchemy, and allegorical-style works, several books were examined and are recommended. On the topic of magic, one suggested source is

Magic in the Middle Ages by Richard Kieckhefer. The book discusses magic from a rudimentary viewpoint, comprising an overall history of European magic and providing key terms and insights on the significant figures involved with hermetic traditions, such as Hermes

Trismegistus. Furthermore, the book discusses the various components linked with the art of magic, such as astrology, religion, medicinal and herbal remedies, and alchemy.

On the subject of alchemy, two books that are studied and to consider are The Alchemist:

Founders of Modern Chemistry by F. Sherwood Taylor and Alchemy and Alchemists by Sean

Martin. Taylor acknowledges the nature of alchemy as a scientific practice rather than anything mystical, the latter being the perception typically associated with the subject of alchemy. Parts of

Taylor’s explanations apply to Varo in that she was very much attuned to the sciences, mainly influenced by her father Don Rodrigo Varo, a hydraulic engineer. Varo’s father was known as an intellectual man who exposed his daughter to profound subjects such as philosophy, science, and mysticism, making sure that they were part of her education. Based on this foundation, Varo was able to combine both the scientific and mystical elements of alchemy within her art.

Martin’s book covers the overall history, technical uses, and spiritual components of the alchemical arts. Key alchemists are discussed, such as the Greek-Egyptian Zosimos of Panopolis

(c. AD 250), and the linkage of mystical influences and symbolism within alchemy is interpreted throughout the book. These mystical elements provide a nonscientific explanation of alchemy and of the dependence on magic within the practice.

For a brief overview of alchemy, the catalog from the 2017 exhibition The Art of

Alchemy, curated by the Getty Research Institute in Los Angeles, California, is recommended.

This eight-page brochure consists of illustrations related to alchemical equipment and design, diagrams of astrological symbols and laboratory ingredients, and comprehensible descriptions of the aspects of the Great Work.

For literacy in the iconography of magic and alchemy in art, I suggest reading Astrology,

Magic, and Alchemy in Art by Matilde Battistini. As part of the Getty Publications collection, this book provides an in-depth guide to interpreting particular objects and themes of allegorical- style artworks from antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance. Another source that provides explanations of a substantial number of symbols from various ancient and modern cultures, such as China, Egypt, Europe, and the Americas, is The Secret Language of Symbols: A

Visual Key to Symbols and Their Meanings by David Fontana. This book translates a vast number of symbols—from zodiac and mythical beasts to mystical numbers and geometric designs. The book presents diverse perspectives on symbols, with colorful illustrations to help the reader visually absorb their signs and meanings. These interpretive sources relating to magic, alchemy, and symbolism are vital to examining and understanding Varo’s works; like most of the authors’ interpretations, the methodology of this thesis is also iconographical.

Aside from the mentioned written sources, for further research on Remedios Varo and to

8 experience her art, I suggest seeing her work in person. Accessibility is rare; however, exhibitions featuring Varo’s work have increased over the past twenty years. Perhaps part of the reason for this increase was a gift of Varo’s collected art, first lent in 1999 and then donated in

2002, to the Museum of Modern Art (Museo de Arte Moderno), Mexico City, by her partner,

Walter Gruen. Thirty-eight paintings were donated by Gruen in the hope of keeping Varo’s artistic legacy alive. Gruen once commented about this gift that “it’s what Varo would have wanted” (qtd. in Kraul). Prior to Gruen’s donation, the museum had curated several solo exhibitions of Varo’s work. These exhibitions were in 1971, 1983, 1994, and 2001. The most recent solo exhibitions of Varo’s work, following Gruen’s donation, were in 2016 and, in 2018,

Adictos A Remedios Varo (Addicted to Remedios Varo).

Walter Gruen’s donation of Varo’s thirty-eight paintings was contested not long after he gave them to the museum. According to a 2005 article by The Los Angeles Times, Varo’s niece,

Beatriz Varo Jimenez, of Valencia, Spain, argued that she was the rightful heir to Varo’s paintings and that Gruen had no authority over them. A succession of court appeals between

Varo Jimenez and the Museum of Modern Art, a branch of Mexico’s National Institute of Fine

Arts, occurred from 2002 to 2008 in Mexico’s National Supreme Court of Justice. Ultimately, the result was in favor of the National Institute of Fine Arts, and Varo’s thirty-eight works remain part of the Museum of Modern Art’s collection.

Regarding other solo and group exhibitions featuring Varo’s work, there have been some shows outside of Mexico. Varo’s first solo exhibition in the United States was in 2000, entitled

The Magic of Remedios Varo and held at the National Museum of Women in the Arts in

Washington, D.C. (Congdon and Hallmark 292). This exhibition was put on in the same year at the Mexican Fine Arts Museum in Chicago, Illinois, and featured seventy-seven of Varo’s

9 drawings and paintings. Regarding group shows, Varo’s work was featured in Exquisite Corpses:

Drawing and Disfiguration at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, in 2012, and In

Wonderland: The Surrealist Adventures of Women Artists in Mexico and the United States at the

Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, California. The most recent of Varo’s group exhibitions in the United States was Surrealism in Mexico at the Di Donna Galleries in New

York City, New York, which finished in June 2019. Group exhibitions outside of North America include, in 2016 and 2018 respectively, Campo Cerrado: Spanish Art 1939–1953 at the Museo

Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, in Madrid, Spain, and The Moon: From Inner Worlds to

Outer Space at the Louisiana Museum of Art in Denmark. Together, these exhibitions demonstrate that access to Varo’s art in person is possible.

Varo’s profound interest in magic and alchemy and her strong connection with nature and science are evident in her works. In this thesis, three of her paintings, namely Harmony, 1956;

Creation of Birds, 1957; and Still Life Reviving, 1963, are thoroughly analyzed to show that Varo was able to revive these subjects, implementing them during the Surrealist movement.

CHAPTER 2

SURREALISM

In 1924, André Breton (1896–1966) wrote Le Manifeste du Surréalisme, the first manifesto initiating the Surrealism movement. In this document, Breton emphasized two core elements of Surrealism: the significance of dreams and psychic automatism. He defined

Surrealism as “pure psychic automatism by which it is intended to express, either verbally or in writing, the true function of thought. Thought dictated in the absence of all control exerted by reason, and outside all aesthetic or moral preoccupations” (qtd. in Chipp 412). Le Manifeste du

Surréalisme attracted many artists seeking to explore a new kind of creative reform. The concepts of Surrealism were more than just an artistic movement; they encompassed a way of thinking by means of liberating one’s thought process, applied towards all aspects of life, in hopes for a better understanding of reality. The movement began in the early 1920s near the end of Dada, a movement that emerged from the social and political angst of World War I. Dada significantly influenced Surrealism, and both shared similar aspects. Dada began in 1916 in

Zürich, Switzerland, and was pioneered by a group of artists, writers, and poets with a desire to rise against a political regime that was causing dehumanization, social terror, and calamity. This group of artists gathered at the Cabaret Voltaire, a nightclub in Zürich founded by writer Hugo

Ball (1886–1927) and his partner Emmy Hennings (1885–1948). At this location, like-minded artists came together to express their frustrations and ideas in an avant-garde fashion, ranging from performance poetry and dance to visual arts. These artists included Hans Richter (1988–

1976), Richard Hülsenbeck (1892–1974), Tristan Tzara (1896–1963), Marcel Janco (1895–

1984), and Jean Arp (1886–1966). “Avant-garde” was a significant aspect of Dada and

Surrealism; the term was originated in the 1820s by the French utopian socialist Henri de Saint-

Simon (1760–1825) and initially had military connotations, but it came to signify both the advanced socio-political and aesthetic position to which the modern artist should aspire (Hopkins

2). It embodied the notion of creative experimentation and radical ideas, pushing beyond the limits of traditional norms.

Many Dadaists found new ways of making art. They experimented with various materials that were out of the ordinary in traditional art, such as newspaper clippings and found and readymade objects. The term readymade originated from French artist, Marcel Duchamp (1887-

1968) and refers to his technique of using manufactured objects as a medium and subject matter in his art. From this, unique methods developed and began to gain popularity among the artist community, particularly photomontages and collages. Photomontages and collages entailed a cut-and-paste process using images, photographs, or paper configured in a way that visually and compositionally made sense to the artist. Another style of collaging involved arranging the image or paper according to the “laws of chance”; in other words, they were allowed to fall onto the surface without the control of the artist. The Laws of Chance theory entailed a process of arbitrary decision-making which removed the element of thoroughly planning the composition of an artwork. This is readily seen in Jean Arp’s Untitled (Collage with Squares Arranged according to the Laws of Chance), 1917 (fig. 1). Blue and white paper was torn into square pieces and dropped onto a 19 1/8 x 13 5/8" grey sheet of paper; the fragments were then pasted together to complete the piece.

Fig. 1. Jean Arp, Untitled (Collage with Squares Arranged according to the Laws of Chance), 1917. Moma.org.

Collages that did not use the laws of chance were constructed in a manner that was intended to present the artist’s opinions. The photomontages of German artist Hannah Höch

(1889–1978) best exemplify this approach. In Cut with the Dada Kitchen Knife through the Last

Weimar Beer-Belly Cultural Epoch in Germany, 1919, Höch captured her critical perspective on the current state of affairs of Germany’s Weimer Republic after World War I (fig. 2). This piece was featured in the First International Dada Fair 1920 (Benson 47) and received a considerable amount of attention. Critics from the fair found it to be stunning, a well-liked work of art that was a highlight of the show. Höch used images from the Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung (BIZ), a popular newsmagazine by one of the largest post-war publishers, Ullstein Verlag (Lavin 51), and composed the images in a way that conveyed a sense of mockery. For example, there are well- known male military figures and politicians shown as having female body parts; these figures are juxtaposed with machine-like objects and her fellow Dadaists. Text is included as well, reading

“Dada” on the bottom right of the piece and “Anti-Dada,” at the top right, both positioned at opposite ends of one another. The visual construction of this piece exemplifies disorder while retaining some form of organization, a noticeable trait in collages.

Fig. 2. Hannah Höch, Cut with the Dada Kitchen Knife through the Last Weimar Beer-Belly Cultural Epoch, 1919.

Surrealism shared most Dadaist views. Both demonstrated the refusal of political chaos and fundamentally sought mental exploration. In his Dada and Surrealism, David Hopkins recounts that Dada viewed itself as “re-enacting the psychic upheaval caused by the First World

War, while the irrationalism celebrated by Surrealism could be seen as a thoroughgoing acceptance of the forces at work beneath the veneer of civilization” (Hopkins 1). However,

Surrealism differed from Dada in that it emphasized the notion of the unconscious inspired by the psychoanalytical studies of Sigmund Freud (1856–1939). Surrealists believed that the unconscious was a force capable of freeing oneself from present realities by extracting hidden areas of the mind, allowing for a better understand of the inner psyche in relation to existence.

Freud’s studies asserted that our unconscious possesses fragments that are unrevealed to our conscious mind and are comprised of desires, traumatic memories, and repressed emotions, and that these can be manifested in the dream state. Freud stated, “We must be prepared … to assume the existence in us not only of a second consciousness, but of a third, fourth, perhaps of an unlimited number of states of consciousness, all unknown to us and to one another” (qtd. in

O’Neil et al. 219). In his Manifesto Breton gave credit to the evidence of Freud’s discoveries for

14 developing a current of opinion “which will enable the explorer of the human mind to extend his investigations, since he will be empowered to deal with more than merely summary realities”

(qtd. in Waldberg 266). The influences of Freudian theory were not only reflected in the first manifesto but were also evident later in many Surrealists’ works.

After Le Manifeste du Surréalisme, Surrealism became defined and was then centralized in Paris, France. Various groups of artists began following this new movement and created fantastical art that transcended the qualities of the human psyche. As part of the psychic automatism emphasized in the first manifesto, this technique was most significant in Surrealism.

Automatism, the act of drawing with no preconceived subject matter or composition, was a method used to render the unconscious. It was also partially structured after Freud’s idea of “free association.” Free Association was a psychoanalytical treatment in which Freud would allow his patients to exercise autonomy during his studies (Storr 40), enabling spontaneity of visions or words. Surrealist writers and painters began to utilize this technique in their writings and art.

French artist André Masson (1896–1987) created a series of automatic drawings following

Breton’s Le Manifeste du Surréalisme. His Birth of Birds, 1925, examples the practice of automatism (fig. 3). In this drawing, the combination of expressive lines formulates images which appear to be animals, eroticized body parts, and architectural components (Hopkins 72).

Drawn quickly without premeditation, the images throughout this piece was presumed to render

Masson’s unconscious.

Fig. 3. André Masson, Birth of Birds, 1925. Moma.org.

Another technique that was paramount to Surrealism was the act of dream painting. The intent was to interpret dreams through art, as they thought that dreams were conduits for unspoken feelings and desires. This method was practiced by many Surrealists in devising the subject matter of their art. It was a useful technique to attempt to channel the unconscious, present imagery in a visually stimulating, transcendent manner, and allow the art to possess mystery, abstraction, and ambiguity. Renowned Surrealists such as Giorgio de Chirico (1888–

1978), René Magritte (1898–1967), and Salvador Dalí (1904–1989) have been known to best show these attributes. De Chirico’s Mystery and Melancholy of a Street, 1914, exhibits an interplay with light and dark shadows between buildings and the landscape (fig. 4). A silhouette of a young girl is present, and she appears to be running while rolling a wheel alongside her path.

Perspective drawing is primarily the theme of this painting, and with the combination of contrasted lighting and obscure subject matter, it displays an eerie setting that is relatable in dreams. In The Empire of Light II, 1950, Magritte paints a scene with houses alongside a road

16 that is lit by a street light, indicating that it is nighttime (fig. 5). However, the clouds and blue sky that are above the homes indicate that it is daytime. The juxtaposition of these two discloses that the scenery he chose as his subject matter can only exist in dreams.

Fig. 4. Giorgio de Chirico, Mystery and Melancholy of a Street, 1914. Wikiart.org.

Fig. 5. René Magritte, The Empire of Light II, 1950. Moma.org.

Much recognition has been given to Spanish artist Salvador Dalí. His illusionistic and mysterious art has intrigued many throughout the years. Dalí had a compelling way of documenting his dreams. In many of his paintings, he places visually stunning images on desolate landscapes, capturing a sense of oddity. Dalí’s artistic career began at a very young age.

At fourteen, he exhibited his works at a show in Figueres, Spain (Meisler); a few years later he attended the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando in Madrid, a prestigious school that was attended by some of the most well-known artists such as Spanish artist Pablo Picasso (1881–

1973). Dalí was fascinated by the Surrealists’ concepts of dream painting and by Freud’s theories of sexual repression, and he began to create paintings indulging in these ideas. His most well- received painting, The Persistence of Memory, 1931, not only exhibits Dalí’s extraordinary imagination, it shows a Surrealist’s powerful interpretation of the unconscious (fig. 6). Shown are multiple melting clocks cascading over a desert landscape, with sea cliffs embedded in the background. In the center of the painting is a distorted oblong shape that appears to carry a profile-like feature. Near the bottom left of the painting, an army of ants swarm over the surface of a melting clock. There have been various interpretations of the subjects presented in this piece. One is that time appears to be the main theme, since there are multiple clocks throughout the painting. Alternatively, the profile-like object has been thought to represent Dalí; because he depicted the image as loose and limp, it may have been a commentary on sexual impotence

(Salcman 366). The ants have also been considered to portray death or the female genitalia

(Salcman 367). It is apparent that the distortion and oddity of the subjects, together with the juxtaposition of scenery, convey extreme ambiguity, representing the essence of dreams.

Fig. 6. Salvador Dalí, The Persistence of Memory, 1931. Moma.org.

It is evident that enigmatic themes are prominent in many of the works created by the

Surrealists. Without the elements of the unconscious and dreams, Surrealism would not have been such a transcendent form of creative expression. Although the Surrealists who received the most recognition were male, there were some women Surrealists who were highly involved with the movement, contributing powerful works of art that represented a feminine perspective throughout Surrealism.

CHAPTER 3

WOMEN SURREALISTS

Surrealism’s concepts of the unconscious, automatism, and dream painting attracted many artists throughout Europe. While most Surrealists were male, female artists were also involved, contributing their creative insights and art. For most women Surrealists, their participation came from either knowing another Surrealist, or they were exploring a new form of art in hopes of asserting their artistic identity. And like male Surrealists, this search for artistic identity was paramount for many female artists throughout Surrealism. .

Initially, involvement of women artists in Surrealism was mainly associated with other male Surrealists, whether for social or personal reasons. French painter Jacqueline Lamba (1910–

1993) was André Breton’s second wife. French artist Dora Maar (1907–1997) was Breton’s acquaintance through Lamba and was romantically involved with renowned Spanish artist Pablo

Picasso from 1936–1943. American photographer Lee Miller (1907–1977) was an apprentice to

American visual artist Man Ray (1890–1976). Gala Dalí (1894–1982) was married to Salvador

Dalí. American artist Dorothea Tanning (1910–2012), Argentinian artist Leonor Fini (1907–

1996), German-Swiss artist Méret Oppenheim (1913–1985), and English-Mexican artist Leonora

Carrington (1917–2011) all had romantic connections with German artist Max Ernst (1891–

1976). Spanish-Mexican artist Remedios Varo (1908–1963) was married to French poet and prominent member of the Surrealist movement, Bejamin Péret (1899–1959).

Such connections enabled these women to take part in Surrealist circles, providing them the opportunity to expose their art on a wider scale. This was demonstrated at the London

International Surrealist Exhibition of 1936 at the New Burlington Galleries, in Mayfair, England.

The works of Jacqueline Lamba, Dora Maar, Méret Oppenheim, Gala Dalí, and Leonor Fini were

20 shown. Others who exhibited there were Eileen Agar (1899–1991), Maruja Mallo (1902–1995),

S.H. Taeuber-Arp (1889–1943), Toyen (1902–1980), Margaret Nash (1887–1960), Diana

Brinton Lee (c. 1900), and Sheila Legge (1911–1949). The show occurred June 11 through July

4 and was a tremendous success, attracting 30,000 visitors in these three weeks (Pollard 22).

Significantly, such a large audience gave the women artists some measure of recognition, both in person and in writing. The exhibition catalog printed the names and works of each woman artist, marking a momentous change. Although two of Jacqueline Lamba’s paintings had been shown in a previous exhibition—the 1935 International Surrealist Exhibition held at the Santa Cruz

Athenaeum in Tenerife organized by Spanish artist Oscar Dominguez (1906–1957)––her name and the titles of her works had not been labeled.

Throughout the Surrealism movement, female artists were typically overshadowed by male artists. Women’s role in the movement was complex: They not only had to compete with their male counterparts, they also dealt with expressing their free-spirited way of living which contravened society’s conventional views of women, a challenge that pushed them to find balance between being an artist, a wife, and, for some, a mother. An article written by Salomon

Grimberg, “Jacqueline Lamba: From Darkness, with Light,” best exemplifies both the subordinate position of women Surrealists and their attempt to acquire their own artistic identity.

For Lamba especially, being a wife to one of the leading figures of the movement was a trying experience involving finding stability between artistic identity and family. She admired and shared a life with Breton but resented the submissive role within their relationship. Grimberg notes that she remained nameless and often was referred to as “her” or “the woman who inspired,” or “Breton’s wife”; ultimately taking on the identity of a trouvaille, a found object (8).

Although Surrealism aimed for a liberal mindset and encouraged women to break away from domestic captivity, a bias remained that women should take on a supporting role rather than a leading one. From the beginning of the movement, male Surrealists promoted creativity and liberation among the women involved within the group; however, it seems that the men had misconceptions regarding the capabilities rendered by the notion of the evolving woman. In the introduction of Women Artists and the Surrealist Movement, Whitney Chadwick shares her insight into the nature of this misconception and comments that throughout the 1920s and 1930s, the rapid changing status of women in Western Europe and America after World War I reshaped social views more considerably than the Surrealist revolution itself emerging the “real women whose needs and desires could not be mythologized away” (14).

Male Surrealists were not fully aware that these “real women” would mark their own identity in Surrealism. During the First World War, many women across Western Europe were taking part in the workforce in efforts to aid the war and in return were making their own earnings. Working women gained a sense of economic and personal independence apart from their homes and domestic responsibilities. Soon after, in 1918, women’s rights in the workplace began in hopes of establishing better working conditions. By the time Surrealism emerged in the early 1920s, the concept of women’s liberation had already been developing. Surrealism merely boosted and supported feminist perspectives by means of art and creativity. However, some contradictions surfaced that eventually distinguished female from male Surrealists. For instance,

André Breton had promoted the notion of spiritual and sexual liberation, yet in parts of his writings, he passionately expressed his fascination with an ideal romantic love that could only be fulfilled by a woman. In his second Surrealist Manifesto, 1930, he specifies:

The problem of woman is all that is marvelous and troubling in the world … and it is to the very degree to which a non-corrupted man must be able to put his faith not only in Revolution, but even more so in love.… I have always believed that to give up love, whether or not it be done under some ideological pretext, is one of the few unatonable crimes that a man possessed of some degree of intelligence can commit in the course of his life. (Breton 180)

In terms of artwork, some women had a much different approach in creating art compared with male Surrealists. Traits which made their art distinguishable from the men were that their works were often in the form of self-portraits, embodying a sense of individual personal experience and also, they portrayed the female persona in a less erotic and sometime less abusive fashion than most male Surrealists.

It appears that male Surrealists typically depicted women as muses, referring to inspiration or at times infatuation. Whitney Chadwick best emphasizes women as a muse in chapter 1 and asserts that women are represented as inspirational muses, shown as mesmerizing, seductive, goddess-like, and at times eroticized. There was also the notion of the femme-enfant, also known as the woman-child, described by Chadwick as an, “enchanting creature who through her youth, naiveté, and purity possesses the more direct and pure connection with her own unconscious that allows her to serve as a guide for man” (33). Chadwick points out that a prototype for this description was the illustration featured in 1927 on the cover of La Révolution

Surrealiste, volume numbers 9 and 10. This publication was created by the Surrealists in Paris and included twelve issues between the years of 1924 and 1929. On the cover of the 1927 issue, the title appears as L’Ecriture Automatique (Automatic Writing) and shows a woman dressed in a schoolgirl uniform and stockings propped next to a child’s writing desk (fig. 7). The woman’s expression is entranced in nature, with her wide eyes gazing to one side, her arm on her hip as if

23 she were waiting for automatism to occur. Chadwick describes this image as “midway between child and vamp, with her rosebud mouth and the revealing patch of white flesh above her dark stockings, this muse of automatic writing, this “false schoolgirl,” is an image of inspiration caught in a moment of sexual ambiguity” (33).

Fig. 7. L’Ecriture Automatique, 1927. Women Artists and the Surrealist Movement, Whitney Chadwick. Thames and Hudson; 2002; print; 33.

The idea of women as muse was also captured in the works of Salvador Dalí and Man

Ray. Dalí on multiple occasions portrayed his wife Gala as a muse in his paintings. In his work,

The Great Masturbator, 1929–1932, an image of what appears to be a face (also present in The

Persistence of Memory, 1931) dominates the canvas (fig. 8). Morphing from the face are objects such as ants, a lion in the form of Medusa, and two half figures at the top right portion of the painting. The figures show the upper torso of a woman, represented by Gala, and the bottom torso of a male. The interaction of the two bodies displays a sexual act, with the woman’s face

24 positioned underneath the male’s genitals. Her eyes are closed in a seductive fashion, with her hair tilted back away from her bare shoulder.

Fig. 8. Salvador Dalí, The Great Masturbator, 1929–1932. Wikipedia.org.

In photography, American visual artist Man Ray captured the notion of muse in many of his solarized nude photographs. One photograph that stands out is an image of woman Surrealist

Méret Oppenheim, titled Erotique Voilée (Erotic Veiled), 1933 (fig. 9).

Fig. 9. Man Ray, Erotique Voilée, 1933. Women Artists and the Surrealist Movement, Whitney Chadwick. Thames and Hudson; 2002; print; 49.

In this piece, Oppenheim is his muse, posing nude behind a large printing-press wheel, her left hand covered in black ink and placed on her forehead. The placement of her hand can be viewed as an impression of one fainting. Her breasts are pressed against the wheel, and she holds a nonchalant gaze towards the ground. Oppenheim is the femme-enfant (Chadwick 49), posing nude and showing the mesmerizing quality of a woman’s body, yet positioning herself in a playful and careless act around machinery, with ink covering parts of her body.

As one can see, some women Surrealists participated in the notion of the muse. Others, however, discounted this notion and showed their own interpretation of the muse. For one, many of the works by women Surrealists did not display the same characteristics of the femme-enfant as those by male Surrealists, nor did they relate the notion of muse to eroticism. Their inspiration came from looking within their own lives and realities to discover themselves and capture their stories through their art. In Automatic Woman by Katharine Conley, she comments on women

Surrealists’ self-portraits and how they impress the audience with “the reality of their paint, their strength, and the power of their artistic creation” (145). Three artists, Leonora Carrington, Frida

Kahlo, and Remedios Varo epitomized this autobiographical approach and created an individualistic style that set itself apart from that of male Surrealists.

Carrington, Kahlo, and Varo shared one thing: All were living artists in Mexico.

Carrington and Varo were originally from Europe but fled to Mexico City to start a new life due to the political disruptions and cultural tensions spreading throughout Europe during the Second

World War. Carrington was English-born and Varo was Spanish-born, and both became close friends during their time in Mexico. Kahlo was native to Mexico, born in Coyoacán. What

Mexico had to offer women Surrealists was access to professional art education, an established role for women in the workforce, and financial support. Mexico also provided the opportunity for

26 them to gain artistic independence from male Surrealists. Vanja V. Malloy makes the point in her article, “Women Artists and the Surrealist Movement in United States and Mexico,” that many

European women who emigrated during the war found surrealism more accessible to them in

America and Mexico, where they were usually distanced from Breton’s male-dominated surrealist group (Malloy 219).

The art of Carrington, Kahlo, and Varo represented their own interpretation of the female muse. The way they depicted the female form was often in portraiture, using themselves or characters that resemble their own selves as the dominant subject matter. Carrington’s work,

Self-Portrait: The Inn of the Dawn Horse, 1938, shows her sitting on a lavish blue chair and wearing white pants, a burgundy colored shirt with an olive-green blazer, and black boots (fig.

10).

Fig. 10. Leonora Carrington, Self-Portrait, 1938. Metmuseum.org.

Her stare is intense, and she is surrounded by three animals in an empty room. Two white horses are floating in the background, and a hyena is standing in front of her. It is indicated

27 that the hyena represents a nocturnal animal belonging to the fecund world of the dream and that the white horses, a recurrent image in some of her other works, were her most powerful and personal images (Chadwick 78). Carrington’s connection with the white horse is tied to her childhood, where she was introduced to Celtic legends by her mother. The white horse also interprets as liberation and is noted by Conley as an “image of escape and release” (52) since shown in the background of the painting a white horse flees into a forest. In this painting,

Carrington exhibits her own interpretation of the femme-enfant, one that depicts the woman as a strong figure and includes the child component as personally and sentimentally important.

The works of renowned Mexican artist Frida Kahlo mostly include images of herself.

Although she was considered a discovery in surrealism, she did not identify herself as a surrealist. She claimed, “I never painted dreams, I painted my own realities” (qtd. in Chadwick

66). However, she falls into the surrealist category due to her dynamic use of imagery and the enigmatical qualities of her art. André Breton was fascinated with Kahlo’s works when he visited

Mexico in 1938. He described them as “pure surreality” (qtd. in Chadwick 90), and she possessed that “magical quality of sorcery that they adored in women” (Chadwick 90).

Kahlo’s work was the most autobiographical in format. She often painted her personal experiences in a manner that was transparent to the audience. In The Broken Column, 1944, she shows herself half clothed and wearing a metal corset (fig. 11). Sharp nails are pinned to her skin and face, and tears cover her eyes. Her body is split open in the center of her torso with a broken column representing her shattered spine, an injury she suffered in a traffic accident as a young girl. In this painting, Kahlo’s expression shows intense pain, sadness, and loneliness, yet her eyes convey an attitude of fierceness. The characteristics of her expression are not mesmerizing, goddess-like, or seductive in any way, the way most male Surrealists depicted women in their

28 works. Moreover, although Kahlo’s breasts are shown, it appears that her intent was not to indicate eroticism but rather a true visual of the emotional and physical conditions of her life experiences.

Fig. 11. Frida, Kahlo, The Broken Column, 1944. Wikiepedia.org.

The third woman Surrealist in focus is Spanish-Mexican artist Remedios Varo. Emigrated from Spain during World War II, Varo was known for her use of fantastic and symbolic imagery.

The use of portraiture in Varo’s work is allusive. The recurring figures in her art harbor a keen resemblance to features of Varo herself—the large eyes, heart-shaped face, and elongated nose— but it was never certain that she was using herself as the subject matter. She often portrayed this female figure as mystical in character but by no means in the form of an alluring goddess. In

Encounter, 1959, (fig. 12) Varo depicts the recurring figure thoroughly wrapped in blue garment and in the process of opening a small box. Sitting on a stool with an arched back, this figure appears to bear the shape of a crescent moon; a faint glow emanates from the garment. Inside the

29 box, a double of herself peers out. Janet A. Kaplan explains in her book, Remedios Varo,

Unexpected Journeys, that this painting represents Varo’s bleak perception of self-revelatory discoveries and that “she confronts the reality of self-exploration, that one is tied to the self one already knows” (Kaplan 152). Encounter renders Varo’s passage towards the notion of total inner awareness, one that most women Surrealists sought throughout the Surrealism movement.

Fig. 12. Remedios Varo, The Encounter, 1959. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 121.

Of the three discussed female Surrealists, Varo best exemplifies the liberated female

Surrealist. Her unique, highly imaginative style of art and inclusion of symbolism traces the essence of magic and alchemy, making her work the most individualistic among Surrealists.

CHAPTER 4

REMEDIOS VARO

Remedios Varo was an artist with many backgrounds. She was born in Spain and had a strict Catholic upbringing. She was well traveled at a young age, studied at a prestigious art school in Madrid, and had two marriages. She experienced a civil war in her native country and was held prisoner by the French government during World War II and was an artist in exile who sought refuge in Mexico. A discussion of Varo’s life and art may be categorized into her years before Mexico and her years after Mexico. The section regarding her years before Mexico trace the origins of her artistic knowledge, her fascination with magic and mysticism, and her involvement with Surrealism. The section about her years after Mexico begins with the end of

WWII and her arrival in Mexico City; it reveals her discovery of her transcendent artistic style, achievements, and recognition (fig. 13).

Fig. 13. Remedios Varo, 1908-1963. nmwa.org.

Before Mexico

Remedios Varo was born on December 16, 1908, in Anglès, Spain, to Don Rodrigo Varo and Doña Ignacia Uranga. She was the youngest child and only girl of their three children. Varo grew up in a diverse setting; she was raised as a Catholic, traveled in several countries, and was exposed to subjects such as science, philosophy, and the arts. As a child, much of her interest and artistic knowledge came from her father. He exposed her to museums and introduced her to literature such as Edgar Allan Poe, Alexandre Dumas, and Jules Verne, as well as readings about mysticism and Eastern thought (Kaplan 16). One of the museums which Varo frequented as a child was the Prado in Madrid, Spain where the works of Renaissance master artists such as

Hieronymus Bosch (1450–1550) and El Greco (1541–1614) were displayed.

Don Rodrigo instilled a sense of adventure into Varo’s childhood through the many trips they took together as a family. He was a hydraulic engineer and, for his work, traveled throughout Spain, Africa, and Morocco. He taught Varo how to construct mechanical drawings and to use drafting tools with precision. He was rigorous in his training and persistent in ensuring that Varo’s drawings were meticulous (Kaplan 15). The effects of her father’s teachings are evident in many of Varo’s drawings and paintings throughout her artistic development. For example, one of her pencil sketches (fig. 14) consists of mathematical elements such as angle measurements and an “X” and “Y” axis line, demonstrating her keen understanding of perspective drawing.

Fig. 14. Remedios Varo, Untitled, pencil drawing. Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo, Janet A. Kaplan. Abbeville, 2000; print; 4.

While Don Rodrigo instilled creativity, Varo’s mother imposed a world of religion and discipline throughout Varo’s childhood. Doña Ignacia was extremely good-natured and a deeply religious person (Lozano 142). As a devout Catholic, she placed Varo in a Catholic convent school, where Varo came to realize that she did not agree with the strict rules, routines, and structure. As Kaplan states, it was during Varo’s Catholic school days that her feelings of rebellion were triggered (16). Perhaps the rebellion that surfaced during her time at the convent school contributed to widening Varo’s imagination. One incident that demonstrates Varo’s playful mind was when she spread sugar on the hallway floors of the school so that it would capture the footprints of anyone trying to spy on her (Kaplan 18). On another occasion, Varo wrote a letter to a Hindu, requesting a supply of mandrake root because she had heard that it possessed magical properties (Kaplan 18). Another factor fueling Varo’s imagination as a young teen was writing. She often wrote stories that involved her dreams and ideas of magic. She would hide these writings in various places in her bedroom, sometimes in the floors and behind the walls, creating a secret haven for her tales.

In 1924, after completing her education at Catholic school, her father enrolled Varo in

33 the Academia de San Fernando in Madrid, a well-known art school that Salvador Dalí had attended. A prestigious school such as the Academia de San Fernando typically reserved enrollments for boys; however, Varo was able to prove to the administrators that she was of equal artistic ability and skill. To be an art student at the academy, candidates had to undergo various charcoal drawing and painting analysis, including a thorough portfolio review. At this point, Varo was fifteen years old, and with the substantial training from her father, in addition to continuous practice of drawing and painting, she had built an exceptional portfolio of portraits, usually of her grandmother, and animal drawings that were exceedingly realistic. One of Varo’s drawings, Rabbit, 1923, pencil on paper (fig.15), is of a rabbit and is naturalistic in form. The animal’s fur is carefully drawn with short lines consisting of dark, medium, and light pencil shading, capturing the three-dimensional qualities of the rabbit’s body. The whiskers are faint but detailed, with each pencil line cascading in different directions. With her artwork filled with such accurate details, Varo passed the evaluations at the academy, leading to a unique opportunity as a girl for enrollment.

Fig. 15. Remedios Varo, Rabbit, 1923. Remedies-varo.com.

The curriculum at the Academia de San Fernando was demanding, with a high level of classes based around traditional fine art esthetics; a precise understanding and formatting of still-

34 life drawings (drawing from observed inanimate objects such as fruit or flowers); figurative drawings; anatomy; landscape paintings; composition; perspective; and color theory. Varo also took an extra course in science illustration (Kaplan 29). During her studies, Varo met Gerardo

Lizarraga (1905–1983), a fellow art student, who became her first husband once she completed her education in 1930. Varo was twenty-one years old and moved to Paris, France with Lizarraga and, a year later, moved back to Spain to live in Barcelona. Their marriage was short-lived. It has been suggested that part of the reason Varo chose to marry was to attain independence and escape from living with her family (Kaplan 31). Moreover, Varo appears to have been open- minded toward romantic relationships, conducting several relationships at once and preferring to live her life in a bohemian-like fashion. Parts of Surrealism involved the concept of sexual liberation as creativity and some women Surrealists embraced this thought as an aspect of life and independence (Chadwick 105, 106). This particular nonconventional lifestyle was something that was uncommon for young women, especially those such as Varo who came from Spanish

Catholic families.

Between 1932 and 1936, Remedios Varo experimented with various styles of art and her attention became more focused on Surrealism. During this period, Surrealism was spreading in

Paris and Barcelona, captivating artists and intellectuals with its notions of the avant-garde, the imagination, and its sense of psychic liberation. Varo connected with other like-minded artists and began to explore Surrealism. In one part of her exploration, Varo collaborated with a group called the Logicofobistas, meaning “those who fear logic” (Lusty 56). The Logicofobistas was an avant-garde group that examined the connection between art and metaphysics. The group’s views complemented Varo’s growing attraction to Surrealism. Furthermore, she was compelled toward the subject of metaphysics. According to Deborah J. Haynes, in her article “The Art of

Remedios Varo, Issues of Gender Ambiguity and Religious Meaning,” Varo had a fascination with esoteric and hermetic traditions. Varo’s collection of books consisted of scholars such as the

Russian mystic George Gurdjieff, the theosophist Madam Blavatsky, the complete works of

Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, and of elements related to Hindu and Buddhist spirituality

(Haynes 28). The Logicofobistas organized an exhibition in 1936 at the Glorieta Catalonia, a small bookstore in Barcelona, where Varo exhibited three of her works. Varo later distanced herself from the Logicofobistas, continued to network, and became involved with the Surrealist group.

Varo’s connections with the Surrealists led to her meeting her second husband, Benjamin

Péret, a French poet, writer, and close friend of André Breton. In July 1936, the Spanish Civil

War began, during which Péret arrived in Barcelona. He was considered, among the French

Surrealists, the most politically involved and went to Spain to assist in defending the Spanish

Republic against the Nationalist rebels (Kaplan 50). Péret and Varo developed an intense romantic relationship in 1937. Péret then returned to Paris and Varo accompanied him, leaving her family and country behind. Being with Péret in Paris exposed Varo to Breton’s inner circle, increasing her contacts with other prominent Surrealists, such as Max Ernst, Joan Miró, and

Leonora Carrington. Varo participated in two major exhibitions organized by Breton: The

International Surrealist Exhibition of 1937 in Tokyo, and The International Surrealist Exhibition of 1938 in Paris.

Varo’s art between 1936 and 1938 was experimental. She began exploring with a technique called fumage, a method created by the Austrian-German Surrealist Wolfgang Paalen

(1905–1959). Fumage is a technique that involves using a lighted candle and moving the flame against fresh oil paint, allowing for the smoke to create unusual markings. This technique was

36 utilized in her piece, The Souls of the Mountains, 1928 (fig. 16), on which one can distinguish smudges.

Fig. 16. Remedios Varo, Souls of the Mountains, 1938. Wikiart.com.

Varo not only experimented with various materials and methods, but also subject matter.

In contrast to her early, teen works of portraits and animals, she began to venture toward imaginative illustrations and narratives. For example, Varo began to portray dismembered figures, headless bodies, obscure objects, and stories related to mythology. In Souvenir of

Valkyrie, 1938 (fig. 17), a corset interlaced with leaves lies on its side surrounded by a wall of what appears to be clouds. According to Kaplan, the head of a woman is rising behind the wall, and the title of this work suggests the reference to the woman warriors of Norse mythology, particularly Brunnhilde, the Valkyrie of Richard Wagner’s Nibelungen Ring (59). Furthermore, this painting may have reflected Varo’s own interpretation of her position as a women Surrealist in Breton’s circle, a group comprising primarily men. Louis-Martin Lozano presented this idea in his book The Magic of Remedios Varo. Lozano suggests that the women peering from the water

37 with their mouths submerged could be a metaphor for women holding a subordinate role within the Surrealism scene (35).

Fig.17. Remedios Varo, Souvenir of Valkyrie, 1938. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 35.

In 1939, World War II broke out, and the Nazis invaded France, occupying a large portion of it, threatening many foreigners and Jewish individuals. The political uproar disrupted

Varo’s artistic path and her life with the Surrealists in Paris. Since she was technically a foreigner in France, she found herself in a dangerous situation. The French Government requested those who were able to leave Paris, but Varo attempted to stay, a decision that led to her exile status. Benjamin Péret was called up for military service in 1940 and, a few months later, was arrested for political activism and held in a military prison in the city of Rennes. Not long after his arrest, Varo was detained also, most likely for being his companion. Lozano suggests that her arrest was because she may have hidden a deserter from the French army (144).

The details of her imprisonment are unclear, and Varo never discussed this particular experience

38 with anyone (Lozano 144). Following her release, Varo, along with other artists who were threatened by the war, fled to Marseilles. The city was a place of refuge for artists and a temporary residence while they planned arrangements to escape Europe. Péret was released from his internment in Rennes and was reunited with Varo in Marseilles. The couple found shelter at a home called Villa Air-Bel, run by the Emergency Rescue Committee, a group from New York whose express purpose was to save European intellectuals impacted by the Nazi invasion of

France. This group helped Péret and Varo leave Europe, a lengthy process that took nearly six months of organizing biographical details to prove that Péret and Varo qualified as intellectuals.

The couple had to undergo challenging visa procedures also, including fundraising efforts to raise money for their passage. Péret and Varo were finally able to seek refuge in Mexico at the end of 1941.

After Mexico

Remedios Varo arrived in Mexico City in 1941, and it was during her Mexico years that she refined her artistic style and flourished as an artist. Despite the daunting prospect of starting a new life in an entirely different country, Varo, being from Spain, had the advantage of speaking the language. Also, there was a large group of European emigrants, including some

Surrealists from her circle of friends, which made it easier to adapt. Among the group were

Spanish artist Esteban Francés (1913–1976); her first husband, Gerardo Lizarraga; Mexican poet

Octavio Paz (1914–1998); and Leonora Carrington. Leonora Carrington and Remedios Varo developed a very close friendship during their time in Mexico and were each other’s confidants.

Both appear to have influenced the other and they created art that shared similar content relating to mysticism and magic. Janet Kaplan describes in detail the friendship between Varo and

Carrington: “Varo and Carrington shared an intensity of imaginative power that each found in no

39 one else…they conducted pseudoscientific investigations, using the kitchen as their laboratory…they talked philosophy, shared their anxieties, and even filtered into each other’s dreams” (94, 95). It is apparent through these encounters described by Kaplan that the two women truly inspired and comforted each other in their new country.

Mexico offered the opportunity for Remedios Varo to refocus on her artistic path without the stress of being a fugitive. Although she and Péret had to find work to support themselves financially, Varo was able to find jobs that exercised her artistic skills. Varo seems to have been the primary provider for the two, taking on as many jobs as she could to support them both. One job involved creating dioramas for a British antifascist company, another was hand-painting designs on furniture and music equipment for Clardecor, a fashionable well-known decorating company in Mexico City. Varo worked in costume design also: one for a Spanish play Gran

Teatro del mundo and another for Léonid Massine’s ballet Aleko. One of Varo’s more stable assignments was working with the Casa Bayer (Bayer Pharmaceutical) company, illustrating for their advertisement campaigns. Her work with Casa Bayer appears to have allowed more freedom for her to create images in her own style––see Insomnia, 1947 (fig. 18), an ad promoting the brand’s sleeping pills. Varo conveyed insomnia using three separate pairs of eyes floating in a hallway, while a bright candle sits on a small table in the center of a room. Flying around the candle are two insects that appear to have wings of crystals. The style of this illustration is similar to a painting she made in 1938, entitled Eyes on a Table (fig. 19), with a pair of eyes on a small piece of wood floating in a room.

Fig. 18. Remedios Varo, Insomnia, 1947, Bayer Pharmaceutical Illustration. Remedios-varo.com.

Fig. 19. Remedios Varo, Eyes on a Table, 1938. Wikiart.com.

In addition to taking various jobs, Varo delved into literature. She became interested in the esoteric concepts of G.I. Gurdjieff, a spiritual teacher, philosopher, and mystic. Varo channeled her energy through other means of creativity also, such as writing, an interest that she had always enjoyed as a child. Her writings are a collection of fantasy stories, dreams, and fictional characters.

In 1947, Remedios Varo separated from Benjamin Péret, and he left Mexico to return to

Paris. After they parted, Varo decided to travel to Venezuela with a French science group. In

Venezuela, she was offered a job as an illustrator through her brother Rodrigo, who worked for the Ministry of Public Health. Once again, Varo was doing commercial work. This time she

41 studied mosquitos and created drawings for a campaign against malaria. This particular job allowed Varo to test her technical drawing skills that she retained from the science course at the

Academia. She received recognition for her commercial illustrations as well. According to

Natalya Frances Lusty, in her article, “Art, Science and Exploration Rereading the Works of

Remedios Varo,” Varo’s commercial work was considered cutting-edge, and the Mexican marketing magazine Publicidad y Ventas commented purely on the artistic themes and imaginative creations of Varo’s work (Lusty 65). Following Venezuela, Varo returned to Mexico and began a new relationship with an Austrian political refugee named Walter Gruen (1914 –

2008). Gruen was to be her partner for the remainder of her life.

It was during the 1950s that Remedios Varo fully committed herself to her art. The height of her artistic career took place in her mature years, between 1953 and her death in 1963. Varo had moved from experimental stages to commercial art to finally establishing a style that embodied the characteristics of her true self. Such characteristics included aspects of science, nature, and hermetic traditions of magic and alchemy––themes popular of the Renaissance period––including meticulous artisanship. Furthermore, Varo’s detail-oriented style meant that her work was well-planned; much different from methods of other Surrealists where automatism and laws of chance were utilized. Varo received an extensive amount of public attention for her artistic style after participating in her first Mexican exhibition in 1955 at the Galerie Diana,

Mexico City. She presented four artworks: The Caravan, 1955; Sympathy, 1955; Solar Music,

1955; and The Useless Science or the Alchemist, 1955. The Useless Science or the Alchemist is one of her most renown works (fig. 20). In this painting, it shows Varo’s fascination toward the subject of science and alchemy with a mechanical device of a spinning wheel and glass beakers that appear to be collecting and distilling rainwater. A figure sits in the center of the painting

42 operating the wheel, wrapped in a checkered pattern cloak that is attached to a checkered pattern floor. The idea of transformation is a concept of alchemy, which could be seen in this painting.

Kaplan comments that the cloak could be a metaphor for Varo’s internal process of transformation (124).

Fig. 20. Remedios Varo, The Useless Science or the Alchemist, 1955. Wikiart.com.

Varo received positive responses from art critics about her first Mexican exhibition: two popular newspapers in Mexico City called Novedades, and Excelsior both commended Varo for her impressive work, the use of dignity and clarity, and for her spiritual and technical courage

(Kaplan 125). From the victorious outcome of her first Mexican exhibition, she was asked by the

Galerie Diana to put on a solo exhibition, which marked a milestone for her artistic career. Varo displayed twelve artworks in her show and was notably popular from that time on.

Following her first solo exhibition, Varo became involved with a community of women

43 artists. In 1956, she took part in the Salon Frida Kahlo, an exhibition that paid tribute to the renowned Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. Varo participated also in the First Salon of Women’s Art at the Galerias Excelsior in 1958. This was a juried show in which Varo won first place, awarding her further recognition. Possibly one of the most pivotal moments in her career that credited her talents and abilities as a female artist was in 1959, when she received a request for a commission to paint a mural for a new medical center in Mexico City. Initially, Varo accepted; however, ultimately, she declined due to the enormous stress (Kaplan 140). Mexican Muralism began in the 1920s and was primarily dominated by male artists, with women artists having only a minimal presence within the scene (Goldman 2). One of the most acclaimed artists of the

Mexican mural movement was Diego Rivera (1886–1957), who had a long-term relationship with Frida Kahlo. For Varo to receive an invitation to partake in the group of Mexican muralists was momentous.

Remedios Varo died in 1963, aged 54, at the height of her career. Although her fame was brief, and her artistic style did not materialize until the last decade of her life, she left behind an extraordinary collection of art that prefaced transcendent themes relating to traditions and beliefs of magic and alchemy. Her early years of religion, fine art education, war, and the freedom to create within Surrealist groups; including her new life in Mexico, were the foundations that led her to discover her transcendent style. The following chapter covers the basis of hermetic traditions, magic, and alchemy of the Renaissance period, the themes that are most apparent within the mature works of Remedios Varo.

CHAPTER 5

MAGIC, ALCHEMY, AND THE ART OF THE RENAISSANCE

In order to better understand Varo’s aesthetics, we must consider the background of the

Renaissance period (approximately 1300–1700). The Renaissance embodied progressiveness in the areas of art, philosophy, and new ideas in the realm of science. It began in the fourteenth century, centralizing around Florence, Italy, and extended into areas of the northern countries, such as Germany, France, and the Southern Netherlands. The period ended at the start of the seventeenth century. A significant aspect of the Renaissance involves the notions of nature, beauty, intellect, and questions of the natural world, inspired by the arts and literature of Greek and Roman antiquity (around 800 BC to AD 500). Revivals of the classical arts reintroduce esoteric concepts of hermeticism, magic, and alchemy. These esoteric concepts made an appearance in some works of Renaissance artists.

The rediscovery of classical antiquity emerged and flourished in Italy between the early fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and was a cultural and intellectual movement and is often referred to today as Renaissance Humanism. Humanist scholars examined classical texts of Latin grammar, literature, and poetry as a guide to writing their own works and to encourage classical civic values and traditions. Early Italian humanist and writer Lovato dei Lovati (1240–1309) was one of the first to write in the style of classical poetry, and he created poems in Latin as opposed to the vernacular. Renowned Italian humanist Francesco Petrarca (1304–1374), also known as

Petrarch, emphasized the significance of ancient Roman culture and rhetoric (the art of speaking and writing). A part of Petrarch’s studies involved examining the writings of Roman statesman and orator, Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BC). In 1333, Petrarch discovered one of Cicero’s

45 manuscripts, Oration for Archias (Pro Archia), which discussed Cicero’s defense of the Roman poet Aulus Licinius Archias (120–61 BC), in which Archias was on trial for the confirmation of his Roman citizenship and which overall expressed the values of poetry and literature. Greek philosopher George of Trebizond (1396–1473) was one of the first humanists to translate

Aristotle’s Rhetoric into Latin (Gross and Walzer 154). Studies of classical manuscripts such as these were an important part of the development of Renaissance humanism.

The revival of classical antiquity in Italy was reflected not only in literature but also in art. During the Renaissance, art had reached a new social platform, altering the profession for many artists. Opportunities became available for little- or unknown artists, as art was developing into a more open market and gearing away from the system of commissioned works controlled by the churches. Although much art throughout the Renaissance period remained tied to religious

Christian themes, some Italian artists implemented classical artistic values within their works.

By the first half of the fifteenth century, some key classical traits are seen in a few works of Italian Renaissance art, such as full-length and nude figures formed in a naturalistic style.

These traits were seen and studied in classical sculptures. Tom Nichols makes a point in his book, Renaissance Art: A Beginner’s Guide, that the classical works that survived were mostly ancient buildings and sculptures; few classical paintings were available for study. It was not until the eighteenth century that the excavation at Herculaneum and Pompeii showed the true appearance of antique paintings (Nichols 32).

An example of two early Renaissance artists recognized in implementing these classical traits are the Italian painter Masaccio (1401–1428) and the Italian sculptor Donatello (1386–

1466). While both artists used Christian themes as their dominant subject, stylistically, their work also shared aspects of classicism. For example, a part of Masaccio’s renowned true fresco

46 paintings (a type of painting that used water-based solution directly onto wet plaster walls, creating a fast bonding of pigments) on the walls of the Brancacci Chapel in the church of Santa

Maria del Carmine in Florence, Italy, features full-length nude figures. The nude figures appear in the upper part of the entrance and are titled The Expulsion of Adam and Eve, 1424–1427 (fig.

21), in which Adam and Eve are walking next to each other. Both appear to be in distress; Adam has his hands covering his face, and Eve’s hands are covering her breast and pubic area. Nichols references that Masaccio painted Eve’s body very similarly to a well-known sculptural form from Greek and Roman art, Venus Pudica, where Venus is typically using her hands to cover the same areas of her body (Nichols 32). One of the earliest known versions of Venus Pudica is the ancient Greek sculpture Aphrodite of Cnidus, a work created by Praxiteles of Athens during the fourth century BC. (Nichols 32).

Fig. 21. Masaccio, The Expulsion of Adam and Eve, 1424–1427. Italianrenaissance.org.

Donatello’s bronze David, 1440–1460, shows originality in the depiction of the biblical story from the Old Testament of David and his defeat of Philistine giant Goliath by showing a young David as a full-length nude, holding a sword in his right hand while standing on the head of Goliath (fig. 22). The work is significant because it is considered one of the earliest freestanding monumental nude bronze sculptures of the Renaissance and it was closely connected with the Medici (McHam 32).The Medici were a notable Florentine family during the fifteenth century, carrying a status of enormous wealth that effectively dominated Florentine political affairs, including the city’s artistic and cultural life. There are no confirmed documents of whether the Medici commissioned this sculpture; however, it is thought that it was commissioned by either Cosimo de’ Medici (1389–1464) or his son Piero di Cosimo de' Medici

(1416–1469) and was on display in the courtyard of the Palazzo Medici (Nichols 36).

Fig. 22. Donatello, David, 1440–1460. Wikipedia.com.

Donatello’s depiction of David standing on the head of Goliath is unique in that interpretations of David by other artists in previous years typically had shown David as a prophet or a king (McHam 34). Donatello’s version shows a nude David in a victorious and gruesome

48 scene but cast beautifully in the bronze medium. The texture of his skin is clear and smooth, and the bronze itself projects a bright and shiny tone. Prior to the bronze David, Donatello made another David (1408–1409), but out of marble. The marble version of David was not in the nude; however, it had the same portrayal of David standing on Goliath’s head.

Despite using classical features, Renaissance art was progressive in its explorations of new methods and techniques. In Italy, methods such as linear perspective and chiaroscuro were being explored and were crucial in the development of Early Italian Renaissance (period between

1400–1490s). Linear perspective is used in measuring the relative shape, space, size, and position of figures and objects within a work. Italian humanist, author, and architect Leon

Battista Alberti (1404–1472) developed a calculated method of linear perspective. It involved consistent placement of horizontal and vertical lines mapped together to form a perspective grid that disappeared to a central point called a vanishing point. This type of linear perspective allowed the main subjects of a work to be accurately calculated in relation to their given distance from the picture surface. Chiaroscuro was a technique applied to emphasize the lights, darks, and shadows of objects within a drawing or painting. A gradual soft blend of light to dark areas creates a contrast effect, presenting a realistic or life-like appearance. The use of accurate linear perspective and the technique of chiaroscuro can be seen in two fresco paintings, Masaccio’s The

Tribute Money, 1425, also in the Brancacci Chapel, and Raphael’s School of Athens, 1509 (figs.

23 and 24). The Tribute Money is an Early Renaissance piece while School of Athens is High

Renaissance (period between 1490s–527). These two works’ exact use of linear perspective leads the viewers’ eyes to focus on the main subjects of the painting, which are positioned right on the vanishing point, and also includes the use of chiaroscuro with light and dark areas within the figures, buildings, and landscapes.

Fig. 23. Masaccio, The Tribute Money, 1425. Wikipedia.com.

Fig. 24. Raphael, School of Athens, 1509. Religionnews.com.

In northern countries such as the Netherlands, a new method that was practiced and mastered was oil painting. This method was developed in early fifteenth century, before the

Italian Renaissance styles of chiaroscuro and linear perspective were introduced to the northern countries. Oil paint is a type of paint that has oil pigments (typically linseed oil); when used, it has a slow-drying effect that allows artists to work at a comfortable pace. Oil paints supply a more transparent, blended, natural, and realistic look. Typically, a layering of pigments is applied to build depths of various colors. Usually, an underpainting of monochromatic tones, such as browns and whites, is used as the base. Once the underlayer is dry, another layer of pigment is

50 added and so forth. Prior to oil paints, many artists used egg tempera as their medium, which consists of a combination of water-soluble pigments, often egg yolks, and sometimes flat gold leaf.

An example of an experienced oil painter during the fifteenth century is Netherlandish artist Jan van Eyck (1390–1441). The subject matter within his works was both religious and secular, and it had a very detailed, realistic, and natural look, typically referred to as Flemish style. Flemish paintings were popular in the Netherlands region, and the effects of oil paints were especially important in producing Flemish work. Van Eyck’s renowned painting, Arnolfini

Portrait, 1434, shows his impeccable use of oil paints (fig. 25). Emphasized in this painting are two full-length figures shown in elaborate outfits and holding hands. The setting appears to be in a bedroom, with natural light pouring in from a large window. The softness and blending of colors within the objects create a very real appearance, especially the light and the shadows cast throughout the piece. Van Eyck was able to master the use of oil paints.

Fig. 25. Jan Van Eyck, Arnolfini Portrait, 1434. Galleryintel.com.

On the subject of philosophy and the Renaissance, the expansion of knowledge brought up questions of humankind’s relation with nature, God, and the cosmos. A revival of esoteric concepts, such as hermeticism, was influential and popular, especially to the Italian humanists.

Hermeticism was a philosophical movement that arose in Alexandria, Egypt, around the first century AD. It is typically associated with Hermes Trismegistus, who was thought to be a legendary Egyptian sage who came from two deities: the Egyptian god Thoth and the Greek god

Hermes (Ebeling 3). Thoth was considered the universal god of wisdom, and Hermes was thought of as the “helpful messenger of the gods”; the god of the fertility of herds and pastures, of gymnastics, and of oratory; and a patron of commerce and trade worshiped by merchants

(Ebeling 4). During the fifteenth century, the writings of Hermes Tebrismegistus were examined in what was called the Corpus Hermeticum. This was a collection of eighteen hermetic tractates written in the Greek language between the first and fourth centuries (Ebeling 10).

In 1463, upon the request of Cosimo de Medici, Italian humanist and philosopher

Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499) translated into Latin the Greek manuscript of the Corpus

Hermeticum; it was then printed in 1471 under the title Pimander. In 1462, prior to translating the Corpus Hermeticum, Ficino had also worked on translating the classical texts of Plato and other Greek writings, especially those relating to the Platonic traditions, such as Plotinus,

Iamblichus, Porphyry, Proclus, and pseudo-Dionysus the Areopagite (Ebeling 60). These early translations of Ficino were also at the request of Cosimo de Medici. Platonism (the philosophy of

Plato) was of high interest in Florence under the Medici. To provide a brief background of the emergence of its popularity, it was in 1438 that the Greek emperor brought the complete works of Plato to the Council of Florence which were admired by many Italian participants (Rees 45).

Years later, around 1456, Marsilio Ficino caught the attention of Cosimo de Medici with his

52 knowledge in philosophy, particularly of Plato and Roman philosopher Lucretius (c. 94 BC;

Rees 45). Ficino, the son of Cosimo’s physician, followed in his father’s path in his early years and studied medicine, later developing a fascination with the philosophy of Plato. Ficino committed much of his time to communicating Platonic philosophy throughout his life. He had gatherings at his home with other humanists to discuss Plato’s work, forming a circle that came to be called the Platonic Academy (Ebeling 60). Important figures and scholars such as Angelo

Poliziano (1454–1494), Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–1494), Lorenzo de Medici (1449–

1492), and Giuliano de Medici (1453–1478) took part in the gatherings interpreting Platonic works. The translation of Plato’s work and the Corpus Hermeticum were significant in shaping the revival of classical philosophy in Italy.

The Corpus Hermeticum texts contain writings that focus on astrology, magic, and alchemy, including sections relating to theological and philosophical beliefs and conjectures.

From these writings, the hermetic revival of the Renaissance offered a new perspective of mankind. Man was seen to be created as a divine being supplied with divine creative power, whose basic essence was spiritual: “Man freely chose to enter the material world (Nature) and thus was of a double nature—mortal through his body, but immortal through his essential being.

Man could recover his divinity through a regenerative experience, by purification of the soul”

(Spielvogel 190).

Within hermeticism, hermetic magic encompassed beliefs based on a view of the world as essentially whole but involving material and spiritual forces that humans could comprehend and manipulate for either good or evil purposes (Dewald 13). Hermetic magic was essentially natural magic, which sought to work the natural powers of the cosmos (Spielvogel 190); natural magic focused on the acts of protection, healing, and divination relating to the invisible forces of

53 nature and was commonly practiced by monks, parish priests, folk healers, physicians, and

“leeches,” a name for British medical practitioners (Kieckhefer 56).

Some Italian humanists explored natural magic and expressed their theories. Scholars who took on the interest and practice of magic were sometimes called Renaissance mages or

Renaissance magi. Marsilio Ficino and others, such as Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (1463–

1494), were some of the most prominent scholars of natural magic. Ficino and Pico’s concepts were linked with the natural and divine powers of the cosmos. After Ficino translated Plato’s works and the Corpus Hermeticum, he wrote a collection of works titled De vita libri tres, also known as Three Books on Life, which was completed in 1489. It entailed three books: De vita I

(On a Healthy Life), De vita II (On a Long Life), and De vita III (On Obtaining a Life from the

Heavens).

De vita III is mostly concerned with magic and astral influences. According to Michael

Shepherd’s Friend to Mankind: Marsilio Ficino, the premise in De vita III is based upon the ideas of the macrocosm within the microcosm, in that man’s nature contains all the qualities and powers of the heavenly bodies and that the heavens are said to be truly alive (67). As Shepherd quotes Ficino, ‘These celestial bodies are not to be sought by us outside in some other place; for the heavens in their entirety are within us, in whom the light of life and the origin of heaven dwell’ (67). Ficino’s beliefs are closely connected with and influenced by Neoplatonism. A mention of Plotinus (AD 203–270), an Egyptian-born Greek-speaking philosopher, and some of his works are also in De vita III. Plotinus is thought of as the founder of Neoplatonism, a school of thought that appeared in the Roman Empire in the third century. Neoplatonism is rooted in the philosophy of Plato and entails notions of the human soul and its connection to the body, similar in part to the connection between all living things and the world, both invisible and phenomenal.

A part of De vita III also describes the significance of specific stones, such as emeralds, topaz, sapphire, and coral, and their emanated powers in relation to the human spirit and the reception of celestial influences (Copenhaver 525). Further, talismans and amulets are explained as having emanating abilities. Talismans are handcrafted objects or jewelry, usually with inscriptions, symbols, or stones and believed to have auspicious magic powers. Amulets are similar in form and are considered a source of protection against evil or danger. In De vita III, however, Ficino’s purpose in focusing on talismans was merely to describe their use and properties rather than encouraging their use; talismans used for aggressive magic were considered by Ficino to be dangerous (Copenhaver 531).

After Ficino completed De vita III, he wrote the Apology. Brian Copenhaver suggests in

“Scholastic Philosophy and Renaissance Magic in the De vita of Marsilio Ficino” that the

Apology shows that Ficino was particularly anxious about the religious orthodoxy of De vita III

(523). Although Ficino followed the ideologies of both Platonism and Neoplatonism, and he expressed his own philosophical interpretations in De vita libri tres, he was also a Christian. In

1473, sixteen years before the completion of De vita libri tres, Ficino was ordained as a Catholic priest. For this reason, he was careful with his writings, since some clergymen were opposed to astrological beliefs. In the Apology, Ficino explained that astrology should not deviate from the worship of the one God or detract from one’s free will (Shepherd 68).

Another Renaissance scholar of natural magic was Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, a philosopher and friend of Ficino’s. Through associations with Ficino’s circle in Florence, Pico was exposed to the Platonic and Neoplatonic views that were forming at the Florentine

Academy. He had a background in classical education and was familiar with popular Greek and

Latin literature and philosophy, including the study of Hebrew and Arabic. In Rome of the year

1486, Pico published nine hundred theses proposing the importance of natural magic and its inherent forces within nature. He also claimed that there was a magical force more powerful than nature; his assertion stems from his interests in the Hebrew tradition of mysticism known as the

Kabbalah (Kieckhefer 148). Historically, the word Kabbalah represents a comprehensive religious movement of various methods rooted in the Tannaitic or Tannaim tradition (AD 10–

220) as materialized at the end of the Second Temple period (Jewish history between 530 BC and AD 70; Hallamish 2 ). Tannaim refers to a group of Jewish rabbi scholars active in the first and second century in Palestine whose teachings are documented in the Misnah, a written collection of material embodying the oral tradition of Jewish law published at the end of the second century. The Kabbalah has been viewed as a mystical Jewish religious system that involves reading encoded texts in the Hebrew Scriptures. From a mythological standpoint, mastery of the Kabbalah can provide one with unimagined magical skill, but one who carelessly misuses it can be destroyed by demons. Pico attained his knowledge of the Kabbalah from Rabbi

Yohanon Alemanno (1435–1504) of Florence, and his acute interest brought him to assert that even words can have magical powers, but only words in Hebrew; it was taught to Adam and Eve by God himself, and they obtained their power from having been spoken to by God’s own voice

(Kieckhefer 148).

Following his nine hundred theses in 1486, Pico wrote the Oration on the Dignity of

Man. In this, parts associated with natural magic and Pico’s theory suggest that a life of knowledge can potentially elevate humans to the status of angels, allowing them to attain a mystical union with God. He also references the notion of demons and its involvement in attempting to connect with forces such as angels. In Pico’s view, combining his theory with the

Kabbalah was a source of protection, as he saw that the ancient Jewish system had the ability to ward off evil demons (Grendler 3:43).

In addition to natural magic, an interest during the Renaissance hermetic revival was alchemy. This forerunner of chemistry entailed the notion of transmuting metals, a process of separating metals, distillation, and sublimation in a laboratory setting. A major point in alchemy was the notion of transmuting base metals such as copper, lead, or zinc into gold or silver. The alchemy process itself was also referred to as the Great Work, or Opus Magnum (Martin 24). F.

Sherwood Taylor proposes in his book, Alchemists, Founders of Modern Chemistry, that alchemists were some of the main contributors to modern science: they attempted to understand nature through natural processes (3). Taylor documents alchemists as some of the first people to perform distillation and as the inventors of most of the chemical apparatuses used in the alchemical process (3). These apparatuses include beakers, alembics, phials, retorts, and mortars and pestles used to perform transmutations (fig. 26). He mentions that to understand the ideas of an alchemist, one must understand the science of the time. He refers to the Greeks as the initiators of theoretical science; the notions of matter and chemical change were held by Aristotle

(384–322 BC) and Greek writers of medicine (Taylor 6, 7).

Fig. 26. Alchemy Equipment. Getty.edu.

The exact beginnings of alchemy are unclear; however, it is typically suggested that alchemy emerged in Egypt during the era of Alexander the Great (AD 356–323) and that alchemy may have materialized from the traditions of metalworking (Martin 41). Some of the earliest references to alchemy can be seen in writings dating to sometime between the second and sixth centuries, of which most appear obscure for several reasons: there is a lack of surviving texts, and in the following centuries, multiple translations through various languages and meanings have made alchemical writings unclear. There was also the notion of secrecy in alchemy, and some writings have been covered in symbolism, making them difficult to configure. However, some bodies of work remain that are considered significant in the subject of alchemy.

One of the earliest works was Cheirokmeta, an encyclopedia of alchemy written by

Greek-Egyptian alchemist Zosimos of Panopolis (c. AD 250). Parts of it survived and have been partially preserved in manuscripts written in ancient Greek, Arabic, Syriac, and Latin (Rinotas

205). In Zosimos’s view, alchemy involved a chemical process of metal transformation, but the work also included a spiritual component: connecting one’s soul to the perfection of the work.

Other significant writings related to alchemy include Islamic texts from the eighth to

58 tenth centuries. In Islam, Jābir ibn Hayyān (AD 721–815) wrote three thousand treatises on theories of alchemy, including other disciplines such as astrology, magic, mathematics, music, philosophy, and medicine. This body of work is referred to as the Jabirian Corpus. Of these works, a significant concept was the sulfur-mercury theory, whereby metals differ from one another depending on the varying proportions of sulfur and mercury. Jābir’s ideas of metals are influenced by the works of Greek philosophers such as Aristotle and his Aristotelian theory.

Ancient Greeks around 450 BC believed that all things were made from four elements—earth, water, air, and fire—a concept supported by Aristotle. Regarding metals, Aristotle supposed that the earth is generated by the sun and thus emanates exhalations, particularly two types of exhalations: one from within the earth and the other from the surface. The exhalations that derive from within the earth are dry, hot, smoky, and flammable, while those originating on the surface of the earth are moist vapors. When these two exhalations are trapped within the earth, substances such as stones, minerals, and metals are formed; the dry exhalations mainly form stones and minerals, while the moist vapors form fusible metals. Jābir’s sulfur-mercury concept closely connects with Aristotle’s theory of exhalations and metals. John Read explains in

“Alchemy and Alchemists” that “Jābir postulated an intermediate formation of sulphur and mercury from the exhalations, in the interior of the earth. Finally, sulphur and mercury, by combining in different proportions and in different degrees of purity, gave rise to the various metals” (257). The sulfur-mercury theory became a crucial idea in the process of metal transmuting in alchemy.

Of medieval alchemical writings, translated works that appeared during the twelfth century in Europe brought about a wide discussion and practice of alchemy. Many of these translated works were of Greek and Arab texts. In 1144, Robert of Chester (c. 1100), an English

59 mathematician, astronomer, and translator of Arabic texts, translated one of the first books on alchemy in Europe, known as Liber de compositione alchimia, or The Book of the Composition of Alchemy. It is a translation of Kitāb al-Kīmyāʼ, one of Jābir’s works on alchemy. Other translated writings included the Book of Alums and the Emerald Table, or Tabula Smaragdina.

The Book of Alums was an Arabic compilation related to the writings of both Jābir and

Muhammad ibn Zakariyyā al-Rāzī (AD 854–925), a physician, alchemist, and philosopher. It entailed a transparent view of chemical knowledge of substances such as arsenic sulfide, sulfur, mercury, heavy metals, and minerals and including alkali, glass, and the imitation of precious stones (Davis, Book of Alums 197). As for the Emerald Table, it was a series of scripts thought to have been written by Hermes Trismegistus on an emerald slab and believed to hold the secrets of alchemy. The oldest existing copies of these scripts come from Jābir’s library around his time during the eighth century (Martin 28). The following quote from the Emerald Table was influential for many alchemists: “As all things were by the contemplation of one, so all things arose from this one thing by a single act of adaptation. The father thereof is the Sun, the mother the Moon. The Wind carried it in its womb, the Earth is the nurse thereof” (qtd. in Kieckhefer

134). Alchemists have interpreted the “one thing” as the “elixir,” and one of the most sought out secrets of alchemy was to discover the elixir, or the “philosopher’s stone.”

A main part of alchemy entailed the production of the philosopher’s stone, a substance considered the final product of alchemical work that would grant an alchemist the ability to transmute base metals into gold. It was sometimes described as a liquid but was best known as a form of powder. It was believed to be an essential ingredient to an alchemists’ admixture in transmuting gold. Early references to a philosopher’s stone were in parts of Zosimos’s writings.

He also alluded to the stone as “the powder” or “the tincture” and mentions, “receive this stone

60 which is not a stone, a precious thing which has no value, a thing of many shapes which has no shapes, this unknown which is known of all.…its kind is one” (qtd. in Kauffman 69). There were many other names that represented the stone, such as the powder of projection, quintessence, phoenix, yoke of the egg, and universal medicine.

The philosopher’s stone was typically described as having a red color. Fourteenth-century alchemist Ramon Llull (1232–1316) from Palma de Mallorca of Spain called it carbunculus, in

Latin meaning “small coal,” alluding to fire with the color red (Kauffman 72). Renowned Swiss alchemist, physician, and astrologer Paracelsus (1493–1541) presented it as a solid, flexible, transparent ruby color (Mercer 135, 136). Belgian physician, philosopher, mystic, and chemist

Jan Baptist van Helmont (1580–1644) mentions the color as “powdered saffron and … heavy and brilliant like bits of glass” (qtd. in Kauffman 73). Other suggested colors were white or yellow. English alchemist Thomas Norton (1433–1513) claimed in his work the Ordinal of

Alchemy that he had succeeded in the confection of the philosopher’s stone and suggested that white stones were meant for transmuting silver and the red stones for transmuting gold. Johann

Friedrich Helvetius (1631–1709), Dutch physician and alchemical writer, claimed that he had examined the stone and that it appeared to be of a pale sulfur color (Kauffman 73). Nevertheless, the true color of the philosopher’s stone could only be perceived as mystifying.

In an attempt to produce the philosopher’s stone, alchemists spent an enduring amount of time working with complex furnaces and laboratories, refining and fusing, endeavoring to perfect the substance. The alchemical process, also called the Great Work, involved methods of distillation (a purification of a liquid by the process of heating or cooling) and the sublimation

(turning solid material into vapor using heat) of chemicals or the alchemists’ material of choice, for example, eggs or vegetable products, depending on their recipes. Among the most essential

61 chemicals in preparation of the Great Work were mercury and sulfur, which had been emphasized in Arabic alchemy during Jābir’s period.

The underlying basic process of the Great Work has been described as having four phases, but there are accounts that the process could have as many as twelve. The four basic stages are called nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo. The first stage, nigredo, is also known as the black stage and refers to the putrefaction (usually by heat) of the material or chemical being used for transmutation. The second stage is albedo, also known as the whitening stage, and is the cleaning, cleansing, or washing. Citrinitas is the third stage, at which the substance returns to the starting point of the process (as the nigredo) but on a purer level (Martin 27). The fourth stage is rubedo, the final phase, at which the philosopher’s stone is attained.

Figuratively, the philosopher’s stone was also believed able to revive one’s spirituality and prolong one’s life. Traditionally, gold was viewed as having divine powers due to its impermeable qualities, resisting water and fire. This idea led some to believe that gold conveyed the ability to overcome death. The thought of prolonging one’s life was known as the quest to find the elixir of life. This notion of an elixir of life is seen as early as the second century in

Chinese alchemy and was perceived as a form of medicine or liquid gold. A treatise known as

Ts'an T'ung Ch'I, by Chinese alchemist and Taoist philosopher Wei Po-Yang (AD 100–150), discusses the belief in a pill of immortality and mentions “the gold medicine…. The purpose of making medicine is to attempt to attain longevity” (Wu 214).

During the late medieval and Renaissance period, the pursuit of the elixir of life was popular among alchemists. To provide a few examples, Spanish alchemist, astrologer, and physician Arnold of Villanova (1240–1311) suggested the use of gold as carrying medicinal

62 qualities by the aid of the cosmos. Quoted in Kauffman’s article “The Role of Gold in Alchemy.

Part II,” Villanova asserts:

It harbours specific virtues which are due to celestial influence. In its stability and

permanence, gold is itself like a star of heaven.… It is unalterable, insoluble,

incorruptible—a miracle of nature. It helps vision, and above all, it cleanses and clears

the substance of the heart and the fountain of life (74).

George Ripley also referenced the elixir as a form of medicine; in his Compound of Alchymie, written in 1471 and later printed in 1591, he writes, “Then will that Medicine heale all manner

Infirmitie, and turne all Mettalls to Sonne and Moon most perfectly: Thus shall ye have both greate Elixir, and Aurum Potabile” (Ripley 19). Paracelsus claimed that he knew how to extract certain elixirs from natural substances that would be able to restore one’s strength and youth and detoxify impurities and disease (Mebane 120). Further, in The Hermetic and Alchemical Writings of Aureolus Philippus Theophrastus Bombast translated by A. E. Waite, Paracelsus states that

“So, then, the Tincture of the Philosophers is a Universal Medicine, and consumes all diseases, by whatsoever name they are called, just like an invisible fire” (29).

Although there was a wide interest in alchemy during the late Middle Ages and the

Renaissance, it was at times perceived with contempt by civil authorities and the churches, and the practice of alchemy was often illegal. This was due to a growing number of deceptions and of counterfeiting gold, and alchemy had become a threat to the churches. Sean Martin explains in

Alchemy and Alchemists that after the thirteenth century, churches were becoming more divided, and rivalries began to appear between the popes in Rome, Italy and in Avignon, France. Due to the divisions, there was an increased need for orthodoxy among the churches to keep them from seceding, and anything unorthodox came under suspicion (63).

There were several accounts that restricted or outlawed alchemy. One occurrence was in

1277, when Pope John XXI condemned English philosopher and alchemist Roger Bacon (1214–

1291) on account of his alchemical works and imprisoned him for fourteen years. Another incident was in 1317, when Pope John XXII decried the manufacturing of gold for alchemical purposes. He proclaimed that “the alchemists promise riches which are not forthcoming; wise also in their own conceit they fall into the ditch which they themselves have digged” (qtd. in

Martin 14). Later, in England, King Henry IV outlawed alchemy in 1403; however, some were granted permission to practice alchemy under a royal permit. To avoid condemnation, some alchemists would write works anonymously or under a pseudonym to conceal their identities.

The widespread interest in magic and alchemy during the Renaissance was influential in the work of some Renaissance artists. Although most Renaissance art kept religious undertones, the subject of magic and alchemy was typically conveyed through allegorical imagery. An example is artist Hieronymus Bosch (1450–1516), born as Jeroen van Aken, a Netherlandish artist known for his symbolic works. He came from a family of artists; his father Anthonius van

Aken, grandfather Jan, and great grandfather Thomas were painters. Bosch’s works were fundamentally religious-themed, but he also presented secular subjects. His art has been described as remarkable for its fantastic and at times diabolic depictions (Vandenbroeck), incorporating creatures and illustrating the outcomes of depravity and sin. An example that includes alchemical references is The Garden of Earthly Delights (1490–1500; fig. 27).

Fig. 27. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, 1490–1500. Wikipedia.com.

Each panel of the triptych shares a similar garden setting; however, each appears to represent a different narrative. It is currently perceived that this painting displays biblical subject matter and the notion of creation. Starting at the left, the panel is found to display the story of creation from Genesis, the first book of the Hebrew Bible, or the Old Testament (Sullivan 165).

One of the main focal points in the left panel is an image of a Christ-like figure standing between a man (thought of as Adam) and a woman (Eve). The interpretation of this scene varies. In “The

Triptychs of Hieronymus Bosch,” Lynn Jacobs describes the left panel as “the joining of Adam and Eve” (Jacobs 1040) and also as “the Fall, that is, the introduction of sin into the world by

Adam and Eve” (Jacobs 1016). Hans Belting describes it as “the portrayal of the first man and woman, created and introduced by God” (qtd. in Sullivan 165).

The center panel is often interpreted as either a scene depicting the occurrence of sin or the paradisiacal setting of humanity prior to the Fall (the transition of Adam and Eve from a state of innocence and divine order to a state of guilty obedience), centralizing around earthly

65 pleasures (Jacobs 1016). It shows an abundance of unclothed figures in the act of mingling with each other on a spacious green meadow scape. The images of figures range from ordinary facial and body expressions to playful and erotic-like poses. An array of animals is illustrated, such as colorful oversized birds, pigs, goats, and horses. Imaginative structures are included that are elongated and oblong. The rich profusion of naked figures intermingled with the fantastic animals and structures truly captivates as a center of interest in an art piece.

The right panel is identified as hell and depicts the aftermath of immorality. The panel possesses darker color tones, scenery, and subject matter. The color of the background is black and highly contrasts with the left and center panel, in which the colors are brighter and the scene appears to take place during the day. Like the center panel, the right panel has an abundance of naked figures; however, their facial and body expressions are not as playful. Instead, their expressions show angst, and some even appear to be experiencing torture. The animals are not as colorful as they are in the center panel, and they seem to have taken on metamorphic and illusory forms. Oversized musical instruments, such as the harp, flute, clarinet, and mandolin, are present throughout the panel, as are sharp objects such as knifes, swords, and stakes. A main focal point, near the center of the panel, is an oversized man with the body of a broken eggshell. In observing the right panel, the absence of light, tormented facial expressions, and grotesque figures capture the sinister setting of hell.

The outer panels of The Garden of Earthly Delights close inward, and when closed, they display a large translucent globe (fig. 28). This scene is identified as creation, a view of the cosmos on the third day of creation (Jacobs 1020). From the Book of Genesis, the story entailing the third day of creation involves the making of land (earth), a body of water (sea), and vegetation. Characteristics of this particular creation are seen in the exterior panel. Inside a

66 dream-like sphere is scenery in grey tones embedded in clouds, water, and landscape. The land appears desolate, with no signs of human life and containing only obscure rocks and plant formation. The large globe is illustrated from a bird’s-eye view coming from beyond the clouds and globe itself—a view from the universe. On the outside of the globe, near the upper left corner of the panel, is an image of a man holding a book, identified as God. Next to this image and above the globe is an inscription: “Ipse dixit, et facta sunt: ipse mandāvit, et creāta” [“for He spoke, and it was; He commanded, and it stood”], from the thirty-third line of Psalms in the third section of the Hebrew Bible and Old Testament (Sullivan 183). These characteristics together indicate the narrative of creation.

Fig. 28. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, External Panel. Wikipedia.com.

There are interpretations that alchemy is referenced in The Garden of Earthly Delights.

Laurinda Dixon emphasizes in “Bosch's Garden of Delights Triptych: Remnants of a ‘Fossil’

Science” that this painting identifies with alchemical allegory associated with the process of distillation, and she argues that the subject matter and organization of The Garden of Delights

67 uses medieval alchemical practices as a pictorial allegory of the biblical story of creation and the fall of humankind; distillation is a metaphor for the cyclical creation, destruction, and rebirth of the world and its inhabitants (99).

As discussed earlier, the basic alchemical distillation process is divided into four stages: nigredo, albedo, citrinitas and rubedo. Dixon, however, uses the distillation concepts of

Salomon Trismosin, supposed author of a well-known alchemical manuscript called Splendor

Solis, 1582, to explain the allegory of Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights through alchemical process. Trismosin’s concept contains four parts: conjunction (bringing together two opposing substances), coagulation (breaking down the structure of a substance and mixing the materials together), putrification (rotting or blackening), and cleansing. Dixon associates the four parts with the four sections of Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. The conjunction stage is tied to the left panel, where Adam and Eve are brought together. The representation of two opposites are

Adam (male) and Eve (female) joined by the Christ figure, metaphorically the alchemist. Dixon relates the next stage, coagulation, with the central panel and explains that the multiplication and unification of the people on Earth through Adam and Eve corresponds to the union of the four elements (fire, water, earth, air), forming a cohesive, completed body. In the alchemical process, the four elements are in the forms of hot (fire), moist (water), dry or cold (earth), and vaporous

(air). These forms occur in the coagulation stage when substances are broken down; Dixon describes it as “when the four elements joyfully coupled in imitation of the first parents.… At this time, the alchemist watched his mixtures bubble and ferment in the laboratory vessel” (99).

The third part is putrification. Dixon relates this stage with the right panel, hell. She describes it as “the rotting and blackening” and that the putrification stage is governed by Saturn and comparable to death, the agony of Hell, and the destruction of the world (100). Dixon

68 suggests that the right panel contains symbols relating to Saturn; her analogy of Saturn and death is put into perspective when viewed through alchemical practices. In alchemy, astrological beliefs were often conjoined with the process of the Great Work. Alchemists believed that the nature of the cosmos influenced the outcomes of their work. Dixon indicates that during the putrification stage, when the substances are rotting, the process was performed under the influence of the planet Saturn (110). In astrological terms, Saturn was known as the slowest, furthest, and by suggestion driest, coldest, and oldest; it was classically linked with the seventh and last decade of the biblical span of human life (Allen 13).

Saturn was also associated with melancholia, believed to be an illness of sadness, or as

Dixon writes, “The catch-all word for imbalances of the humors caused by the vile planet” (110).

The effects of melancholia were believed to occur among alchemists during the putrification stage; writings related to astrological theories, such as Ficino’s De vita libri tres, cautioned scholars about the negative effects of Saturn and how to steer clear of melancholic symptoms termed as “Saturnine” (Dixon, Bosch’s Garden 110),

The notion of Saturn and its effects is evident in the right panel of The Garden of Earthly

Delights. The appearance of sadness, agony, and torment are shown in most of the people; some figures even hold a typical melancholic pose: chin resting on their hand, with a sorrowful facial expression. Another allegorical representation of Saturn is the color black, used throughout much of the right panel. The color black was often associated with Saturn; during the alchemical process, certain stages were characteristically identified by the appearance of colors. The pairing of stages and colors were known as “regimens,” such as Saturn (black), Venus (purple or green),

Mars (rainbow), and the Moon (white; Rembert 144). The color black clearly dominates in the right panel of The Garden of Earthly Delights: the sky, the body of water, the cryptic animal-like

69 creatures, and multiple structures in the far distance all possess dark features.

Another allegorical depiction is near the lower right. A hybrid figure is shown, half-bird half-man, with its mouth wide open and consuming a human body, while two other human figures are released from its tail as excrement. This scenario perhaps symbolizes the story of the mythological Saturn (the Titan Cronus), in which his fear of being overthrown by one of his children led him to swallow each of them. Visible in the hell panel, the hybrid creature is in the act of swallowing a human, with only their bottom torso hanging from the creature’s mouth.

The fourth part of distillation is cleansing. Dixon connects the exterior panel with the final stage in her analogy, comparing the washing and cleansing to Christian resurrection and making pure of one’s soul. The cleansing process entailed seven or twelve steps before reaching purification, and the key factor in distillation was believed to be cyclical. The final result of union with God was typically symbolized by a sphere or globe (Dixon, Bosch’s Garden 100), a shape that is quite apparent on the exterior panel of The Garden of Earthly Delights.

To further investigate alchemical allegory in the painting, one can analyze some of the exhibited objects. For instance, pink and blue structures in the left and central panels are characteristic apparatuses used for distillation. They are elongated near the top of the structure, spherical in form closer to the bottom, and attached to large vessel-like objects. These structures have a very similar shape to an alembic or a still, a device used for distillation (fig. 29). A typical alembic is composed of three parts: a vessel for heating the material, a cool section to hold vapors, and a receiver (fig. 30). Alembics were first described in writings by Greek alchemists.

Zosimos of Panopolis referred to a woman alchemist named Mary the Jewess (sometime between AD 100–300) and her explanation of alchemical apparatuses. It is unclear if she was an inventor of alchemical apparatuses; however, from the writings of Zosimos, one can gain a sense

70 of her experience and knowledge of such equipment. Zosimos writes: “The apparatus is constructed from copper and described by Mary, the transmitter of the art. For she says as follows: ‘make three such tubes and also make a wide tube of a handbreadth width and an opening proportioned to that of the still-head’” (qtd. in Sherwood 39).

Fig. 29. Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, detail of Central Panel. Wikiart.com.

Fig. 30. Alembic Device. Istockphoto.com

The image of the egg also references alchemy in The Garden of Earthly Delights. There are several egg-shaped objects: a yellow-colored egg near the upper portion of the left panel (fig.

31), a large white egg in the far distance of the central panel (fig. 32), and the part-man, part-egg figure in the right panel (fig. 33). In alchemy, an egg often represents a retort, one of the devices used during the alchemical process, in which materials sit and brew. It is a spherical vessel with

71 a long neck that points downward (fig. 34). The substances waiting to be materialized in a retort were compared to the yoke of an egg, symbolizing gold.

Fig. 31. Egg 1, The Garden of Earthly Delights, detail of Central Panel. Wikiart.com.

Fig. 32. Egg 2, The Garden of Earthly Delights, detail of Central Panel. Wikiart.com.

Fig. 33. Egg 3, The Garden of Earthly Delights, detail of Right Panel. Wikiart.com.

Fig. 34. Alchemical Retort. Commons.Wikimedia.org.

Another alchemical device associated with the egg is an athanor, a type of furnace used to retain heat for long periods of time (fig. 35). Since the athanor was represented by an egg and the athanor’s main function was to heat and prepare substances, the egg was also perceived as a metaphor for the maternal womb (Battistini 318). John Read’s interpretation in his article

“Alchemy and Alchemists” supports this idea; he explains that the egg was considered by alchemists as a symbol of creation, derived from Babylon and Egypt (261). Read views the egg or athanor as the “philosopher’s egg,” believed to be the final instrument used before the philosopher’s stone, or elixir, was accomplished. The philosopher’s egg is also referred to as hermetic vase, or vase of Hermes.

Fig. 35. Athanor Furnace. Alchemywebsite.com.

Other images relating to alchemy occur near the bottom of the painting’s center panel, where a man and woman sit together in an intimate pose inside a translucent bubble (fig. 36).

Similar to the figures of Adam and Eve, this allegorical image associates with the conjunction stage and what is known as the alchemical marriage of opposites. In alchemy, the notion of bringing together opposing materials was the basis of the Great Work. Alchemists adhered to the thought that metals grew in the earth as a result of the marriage between mercury and sulfur, and they were viewed as opposing forces: male and female, or volatile and fixed (Martin 23). Dixon refers to Bosch’s image of the male and female couple as the “bride and groom” and to the translucent bubble in which they sit as similar to a laboratory instrument called a receiver (104).

Fig. 36. Bride and Groom, The Garden of Earthly Delights, detail of Central Panel. Wikiart.com.

To examine other Renaissance art containing allegorical representations of alchemy and magic, one can observe the works of German Northern Renaissance artist Albrecht Dürer (1471–

1528). Dürer was a painter and printmaker well-known for his prolific engravings and woodcut prints. Engravings involve incising a design or drawing onto a hard, flat surface, usually a metal plate. The incised area is sunken in from the surface; during the printing process, the surface is covered with ink, which fills the sunken areas and is then transferred onto paper by pressure or a printmaking machine. This technique is known as intaglio. In contrast, woodcuts are relief prints, the opposite of the intaglio technique. Woodcut involves carving a design or illustration onto a

74 piece of block wood; the top surface is where the ink is applied and then transferred onto paper.

During the Renaissance, engravings were first practiced by goldsmiths, and the most commonly used metal for engravings was copper. As Jan Read writes in “Some Alchemical Engravings”:

“Copper engraving sprang from the metal-chaser’s art, and in its early stages was practiced mainly by goldsmiths, who were only too well acquainted with the alchemists and their habits”

(243). Most copper engravings were seen in illustration books around the late sixteenth century.

Copper engravings and woodcut prints were commonly used in the works of Albrecht Dürer.

Dürer came from a background of craftsman and received his knowledge of engraving skills from his father, Albrecht Dürer the Elder (1427–1502), who was a goldsmith. Albrecht

Dürer the Younger was an apprentice to his father but later pursued his craft as a painter instead of a goldsmith. One of his first works, exemplary of his profound drawing skills, is a silverpoint self-portrait created in 1484, when he was thirteen years old (fig. 37). Silverpoint drawings require the use of a metal point or silver wire and is utilized as a pencil. Specialized paper such as parchment is typically used as the drawing surface. Durer’s silverpoint self-portrait exhibits considerable use of cross-hatching (a drawing style with intersecting and parallel lines that form a shaded area) along the draping of his shirt; softer cross-hatchings appear throughout his facial area. The cross-hatching technique and strong use of lines were vividly seen in many engravings and woodcut prints of the Renaissance era, and it is apparent from Dürer’s silverpoint self- portrait that he developed his artistic skills at a very young age.

Fig. 37. Albrecht Dürer, Silverpoint Self-Portrait, 1484. Curiator.com.

One of Albrecht Dürer’s most renowned copper engravings is Melencolia, 1514 (fig. 38).

In this work, the main focal point is a woman holding a compass in one hand and resting her chin on her other hand, appearing to be in a state of melancholy. At first glance, she seems to be an angel figure, with a leafy wreath wrapped around her head and a pair of light-colored feathered wings attached to her back. She is surrounded by many objects; to name a few: a balance scale, hourglass, numerical table chart, polyhedron, sphere, ladder, and sawtooth daggers. In the background, the landscape is filled by a luminous sun emanating its rays, a rainbow, and an obscurely shaped animal hovering over a body of water, holding a sign that reads “Melencolia I.”

Fig. 38. Albrecht Dürer, Melencolia I, 1514. Wikipedia.com.

Dürer’s Melencolia I exhibits imagery of magic and alchemy. First, the title and theme of the piece itself are a clear indication of melancholy. As previously mentioned, the state of melancholy was believed to have been caused by the planet Saturn due to its astrological characteristics of being the coldest and furthest (at the time of the Renaissance) distance from the sun. Saturn’s mystical influences were believed to affect parts of alchemical distillation as well, such as the putrification stage or the first basic stage, nigredo, also known as the black stage.

Multiple objects in Melencolia I are linked to Saturn. John Read identifies some of the links in

“Dürer’s Melencolia: An Alchemical Interpretation.” For instance, the compass, balance scale, and hourglass are tools of measurement, an important element associated with Saturnine mysticism (284). In addition, the hourglass relates to Kronos, viewed in Roman mythology as the god Saturn. Saturn was sometimes depicted in alchemy as an elderly man with an hourglass on

77 his head (Read, “Durer’s Melencholia” 284); in Melencolia I, the hourglass is seen above the woman’s head. Dürer also included the hourglass in two other well-known engravings, The

Knight, 1513, and St. Jerome in his Study, 1514.

Another object referencing magic and alchemy in Melencolia I is the numerical table chart located above the woman. This can be identified as a magic square, defined as a mathematical arrangement of specific integers (whole numbers) within a square grid in which the integers of each column, row, and diagonal all have a sum of the same number. In terms of mysticism, certain numbers and their combinations were believed to contain magical powers from divine forces. Other variants of the magic square included letters instead of numbers and were believed to have mystical powers of protection according to the combination of letters.

Both types of the magic square made an appearance on talismans and amulets during the medieval period, during which the inscriptions were worn as protection against disease and attacks by invisible and visible forces (Kieckhefer 75).

It is thought that some of the earliest concepts of the magic square emerged in China around the fourth century BC, and a clear mention of the magic square appeared in the Chinese book Ta Tai Li-chi composed in the first century BC (Cammann 43). Later, it appeared in Arabic texts in the tenth century and was popularized during the Renaissance in the writings of Marsilio

Ficino, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, and German scholar Cornelius Agrippa (1486–1535).

The notion of numbers and their correlation with mysticism was seen in the ideas of ancient

Greek philosopher Pythagoras (570–495 BC), who believed that numbers carried the elements of all things natural, spiritual, and scientific (Melton 960). John Read connects the magic square in

Melencolia I with Pythagorean assertions and the significance between numbers and the cosmos.

He also suggests that the compass, polyhedron, and sphere are symbolic of Pythagorean and

Platonic concepts, which are significant components of alchemical ideology (283).

For example, the number four coincided with the four elements, the basic four stages of alchemical work, and the colors (black, white, citrine, red) of alchemy. In Melencolia I, the number four is clearly visible in the bottom left corner of the magic square. Read suggests that the number four in the square coincides with the four elements and the colors of alchemy.

Further, he suggests that Melencolia I was intended to be a series of four engravings, linking with the four temperaments or personalities (melancholic, phlegmatic, choleric, and sanguine) and the four humors of the body (black bile, phlegm, yellow bile, and blood). The four humors coincide with the four temperaments, and it was believed that an increase or imbalance of the humors affected one’s temperament. Read associates these notions with the number four as

“linked in the medieval mind with certain mystical groups of four, a magical number inherited from the early civilizations long before the time of Pythagoras” (283).

Lastly, other objects in Melencolia I that hold allegorical significance are the ladder, sun, and rainbow within the landscape. The ladder in this piece has seven steps, suggestive of symbolizing the seven metals of alchemy. Read states, “The seven-runged ladder is another common feature of alchemical symbolism, the rungs representing the seven metals and the associated heavenly bodies” (284). The seven metals of alchemy are silver, mercury

(quicksilver), copper, gold, iron, tin, and lead. These seven metals were believed to represent each of the seven classical planets. In classical antiquity, it was held that the planets comprised the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The pairing of metals and planets were as follows: gold and the Sun, silver and the Moon, mercury/quicksilver and Mercury, copper and Venus, tin and Jupiter, and lead and Saturn.

The sun and rainbow within the landscape of Melencolia I are symbolic in alchemy. As

79 mentioned, the sun represents gold, one of the main components and goals of alchemy. The sun is also symbolic of the substance sulfur, a constituent in the making of the philosopher’s stone and viewed as the masculine principle. Reference to masculine characteristics in relation to the sun is seen in parts of Hermes Trismegistus’s Emerald Tablet: “The father is the sun. Its mother the moon” (Martin 29). The sun in Melencolia I is depicted as exceedingly radiant, with vast amounts of white lines projecting from the center of the sun. It is the brightest object in comparison to the overall dark tones within the piece. The rainbow is suggestive of the colors that appear in the athanor during the last phase of alchemical distillation. Read indicates that “the rainbow … was the alchemists’ favorite symbol for the colors that were held to appear, in a definite sequence culminating in red, in the Vase of Hermes, during the operations of the Great

Work” (283).

To further discuss Northern Renaissance artists and allegorical works, one can analyze the art of Dutch artist Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1525–1569). Bruegel was a painter and printmaker known for his Flemish-style works and his prominent use of landscapes throughout his paintings. His style of art was comparable to that of Hieronymus Bosch in that some of

Bruegel’s paintings depicted religious themes and the notion of hell. Contemporaries of Bruegel, such as artist-historian Giorgio Vasari, described him as the “second Bosch” (Wied and Miegroet

2).

Two of Bruegel’s works in particular relate to magic and alchemy: The Tower of Babel,

1563–1568, and The Alchemist. There are three known versions of Bruegel’s The Tower of

Babel; two were painted on panel and another on ivory. The latter of the three has been identified as lost (Mansbach 2). The first panel was created in Vienna, Austria in 1563 and the other in

Brussels, Belgium in1568. The example discussed in the following paragraph is the 1568 version

(fig. 39).

Fig. 39. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Tower of Babel, 1568. Wikipedia.com.

The Tower of Babel centers around a city of which the tower ascends in a spiral into the clouds. A sharp streak of light shines against the front side of the building, while near the bottom right, a group of ships float on a large body of water. On the lower left side of the panel are houses spread upon a grassy landscape. People portrayed as tiny marks scattered throughout each level of the spiraling tower, and it appears that most of the tower is complete except for the top portion of the structure. There have been various interpretations of The Tower of Babel; however, a common view is that it exhibits biblical references from Genesis 11:1–9, in which God confounds the people who wanted to build a city and tower reaching towards heaven (Mansbach

2).

To connect The Tower of Babel with the subject of magic, one can explore the constructed city in this painting and the notion of magic cities. According to Matilde Battistini’s chapter “Magical Cities” in Astrology, Magic, and Alchemy in Art, in the ancient world, the establishment of cities was integrated with religious and magic rituals. The intention of these

81 rituals was to protect its rulers and citizens and to utilize the energies of the chosen location.

When building, the walls’ outer edges were designed as quadrangular in form, typically rectangular or oblong. This particular form was considered as a symbol of perfection and world stability (Battistini 240). In addition, amulets and talismans were concealed in certain areas throughout the city in the belief that it would prevent the city from being beleaguered by outsiders, internal uprising, or natural disasters (Battistini 240).

An example of a magic city is Adocentyn, a city believed to have been built by Hermes

Trismegistus in Egypt. Mentions of Adocentyn are found in an Arabic work of between the tenth and eleventh centuries titled Picatrix, a compiled text regarding magic and astrology. In her book

Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, Frances A. Yates emphasizes a section from

Picatrix regarding the city of Adocentyn. In this particular passage of Picatrix, Hermes

Trismegistus is mentioned as having once built a temple that reached the sun, and his city of

Adocentyn is described as being twelve miles long and consisting of a castle, a “great tree” that provides fruit, and a large body of water supplying fish. A lighthouse occupies the top of the castle and shines a different color each day, for seven days. Hermes Trismegistus is described as placing talismanic engravings on four gates of the castle and invoking spirits in the four images to guard the gates. He also added talismanic engravings around the entire perimeter of

Adocentyn for the purpose of security: “He placed engraved images and ordered them in such a manner that by their virtue the inhabitants were made virtuous and withdrawn from all wickedness and harm” (qtd. in Yates 54).

In Pieter Bruegel’s Tower of Babel, there are characteristics also seen in ancient magic cities. One feature is the extreme height of the tower. The top of the tower surpasses a large group of clouds, appearing as if it were about to disappear from the earth’s sky. This image is

82 similar to the description of Hermes and how he once built a temple to the sun. In addition to the tower and its extraordinary height, it is suggested that the intention of this image was to indicate a link between the divine powers and the humans of earth; astrologers and magicians stood at the top of the tower and searched for celestial signs so that they might direct the cosmic energies towards earth (Battistini 241). Another feature is the tower’s oblong shape and its thick walls.

Although the structure does not distinctively show four sharp sides, it does illustrate the front of the tower as joined at a slant angle, indicative of a quadrangular pattern. As mentioned earlier, this particular shape symbolized perfection and stability in magic cities. It can also be said that the thick, enclosed walls seen in The Tower of Babel signify secrecy. Battistini notes that sometimes, even the name of a city was kept hidden in documents, and only a small number of selected individuals were able to access the information (240). Perhaps the confined walls of The

Tower of Babel signify this type of secrecy and the extent to which outsiders were not allowed

“inside” to access classified knowledge.

Another feature of this painting that relates to magic cities is the streak of white light shining in a linear formation against the tower. The white light is paired with a streak of red light. These two colors are shining on seven of the concentric bands of the tower. The emphasis here is the number seven, which may refer to the seven colors of the lighthouse found on the summit in Adocentyn. Moreover, the seven concentric bands of The Tower of Babel can be related both to the seven classical planets believed to exert celestial influence in magic and the seven metals in alchemy.

Another Bruegel work, The Alchemist, 1558, is an engraving which illustrates the complexities of alchemy and the notion of masters and disciples (fig. 40). Though this piece is a satirical work, it nonetheless conveys the essence of alchemical procedures. In the notion of

83 masters and disciples, knowledge of alchemical practices was often coded in its own language through secret symbols and allegorical content by the teachings of a master. The relationship between the master and disciple was significant in keeping alchemical knowledge secret. In The

Alchemist, the operation taking place is not conducted single-handedly; a scholar (master) on the right appears to be directing his helpers (disciples) in conducting the Great Work in a cluttered shop that resembles a laboratory, filled with apparatuses and equipment. He sits behind a podium pointing to multiple books laid out in front of him. His helpers are frantic and in a state of exhaustion, each handling his or her own tasks surrounded by many alchemical instruments. A collaborative interaction between the scholar and his students is present in this scene.

Fig. 40. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Alchemist, 1558. Metmuseum.org.

The industrious complexities of the Great Work are shown in The Alchemist. To the left of the scene is an alchemist with a tattered appearance; his clothes are torn, and he is surrounded by an enormous amount of fumes. The workspace itself is in poor condition, with cracked floors, broken wooden shelves, and disorganized supplies and equipment. From the alchemists’ expressions and by the looks of the laboratory, a great deal of hard work and busyness is

84 involved when performing alchemy. The alchemist on the far left is also holding a pair of tongs in one hand and placing a coin into a crucible with the other. Gary L. Townsend mentions in his article “The Alchemist” that it was believed that a small amount of gold was needed for gold to be made; the alchemist is using a coin in this scene. Townsend also emphasizes that practicing the art of alchemy was especially costly; therefore, shown in the picture is a woman holding an empty purse who seems to have given her last coin to the alchemist.

The earlier examples of works were by Northern Renaissance artists. The following discussion will turn to some Italian Renaissance artists and their allegorical representations of magic and alchemy. The first example is the Expedition of the Argonauts, 1484, by Italian artist

Lorenzo Costa the Elder (1460–1535). Costa received his early artistic training from the studio of Italian artist Ercole de’ Roberti (1451–1496) in Ferrara, Italy. Costa lived in Bologna, Italy during his twenties, and it was there that he was commissioned to make art at Bolognese churches. It is suggested that during his time in Bologna, he was one of the most sought-out artists (Chiusa 1)

In Expedition of the Argonauts, a ship with seven figures floats to shore (fig. 41). The water is of a milky-white tone, giving the surreal appearance of clouds rather than water. For this reason, the large ship seems to be levitating above the water instead of floating on it. Allegorical images in Expedition of the Argonauts are the seven figures and the ship. Known as the

Argonauts, heroes in Greek mythology who sailed to recover the Golden Fleece (believed to be the fleece of a golden ram and symbolizing kingship). The expedition in this painting is comparable to the quest to attain the philosopher’s stone (Battistini 259); both are highly desired objects in which a source of power is granted once in possession. In reference to the ship, it serves the notion of the journey in alchemy and is a metaphor for the spiritual quest of the elixir

85 and the different stages of the alchemical process. Furthermore, the ship can be perceived as the philosopher’s egg or the athanor, the vessel needed for incubation near the concluded phases of attaining the philosopher’s stone.

Fig. 41. Lorenzo Costa the Elder, Expedition of the Argonauts, 1484–1490. Astrology, Magic, and Alchemy in Art, Matilde Battistini. J. Paul Getty Museum, 2007; print; 259.

Another work by a recognized Italian Renaissance artist is Allegory of Dreams by

Giovanni Battista Naldini (1537–1591; fig. 42). Naldini was artistically trained under renowned

Florentine painter Jacopo Pontormo (1494–1597) and worked with notable Italian artist and historian Giorgio Vasari. Naldini was part of a stylistic period during the late Renaissance

(between 1510 and 1600) called Mannerism, which consisted of art that embodied bountiful decorations, exaggerated forms, and things of the natural world. During Naldini’s artistic career, he worked for the Medici at the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence, particularly in the studiolo, a small barrel-vaulted room commissioned by Francesco I de’ Medici (1541–1587). Naldini worked under Varsari’s supervision at the studiolo, and it was there that Naldini’s Allegory of Dreams came to be. It was one of the thirty-four commissioned works of the studiolo.

Fig. 42. Naldini, Allegory of Dreams, 1537–1591. Meisterdrucke.com.

In Allegory of Dreams, an array of figures occupies the central foreground. These figures are naked except for one woman, shown with part of her yellow dress drooped around her torso.

In this group of figures, there are three women, two men, and two toddlers. All appear to be interacting with one another, lying and sitting in twisted positions. The woman in the yellow dress is in the center, and she is holding a clear, glass-like object that is oblong in shape. Other items are present among this group; an owl, a face mask, and flowers held by the children. The background of this painting displays dark tones of browns and blacks, making an impression of low light and shadows. Two elongated, clothed female figures appear to be dancing. Behind the dancing women are obscure naked figures that seem to blend into the depths of the shadowy surroundings.

Iconographic interpretations of Allegory of Dreams are analyzed best in “Naldini’s

Allegory of Dreams in the Studiolo of Francesco de’ Medici” by Harvey Hamburgh. In this article, Hamburgh provides a comprehensible profile of Francesco de’ Medici’s attraction for natural magic, alchemy, and science and how artworks such as Naldini’s Allegory of Dreams are a part of the studiolo. Hamburgh notes that Francesco de’ Medici had interests in zoological, botanical, and alchemical experimentation and that there were accounts in 1585 of his secrets for melting rock crystals, making porcelain, preparing enamel, and working with glass (683). He also mentions that the paintings in the studiolo acted as hidden cabinets, and held within them was Francesco’s collection of artifacts and precious gems (679). In addition, Hamburgh references the connection of astrology and dreams with Francesco, information provided by a manuscript in the Laurentian Library in Florence: a horoscope written for him by astrologer

Giovan Battista Guidi da Cerreto in 1568, and a mention of Francesco’s request for a fifteenth- century text relating to interpretations of various dream imagery (688).

A few objects in Allegory of Dreams are symbolic. First, the glass oval object held by the woman is most significant and links with the notion of dreams. Hamburgh notes that the shape of this object is like the oval mirrors typically seen in Renaissance paintings. Hamburgh references two scholars in his article, Scott Jay Schaefer and Lensi Orlandi, who view the glass object in

Allegory of Dreams as a mirror. He notes that Orlandi links the mirror with “mystic and hermetic concepts … as revelation of deeper realities in dreams” (691). In Hamburgh’s assertion, however, the glass oval object is perceived not as a mirror but as a lens, represented as an aid for clarity within dreams. Hamburgh associates a statement by Roman provincial Macrobius (AD

370–430) to support his assertion of the lens and clarity within dreams. Macrobius claimed that during sleep, the soul is partly separated from the body; during this state, the soul “at times gazes

88 and at times peers intently at the truth, but does not apprehend it; and when it gazes it does not see with clear and direct vision.… If, during sleep, this veil permits the vision of the attentive soul to perceive the truth … it becomes transparent” (qtd. in Hamburgh 694). The lens in

Allegory of Dreams, by suggestion of Hamburgh, is the aid for the gazing in a dream state at the soul, and it is depicted as the central object among the arrays of figures.

Dreams were part of an esoteric discipline that received attention throughout the

Renaissance. They were usually described as a vision and believed to be a source of communication from divine forces, alongside the idea that dreams were prophetic. Marsilio

Ficino stated, “There is a certain power of the soul … which by a kind of affinity of celestial bodies and spirits is often summoned in such a fashion that it may predict the future … this is the source of auguries in dreams” (qtd. in Celenza 696). Italian Dominican friar and Catholic priest

Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) had also stated that “divine revelations and foresight of future events are perceived all the more clearly” (qtd. in Hamburgh 693). Dreams were also viewed as a source of wisdom and one’s inner truth. Hamburgh references English writer and philosopher

John of Salisbury (1115–1180) and his notion of how the spirit contemplates truth in dreams as

“seen by the eyes fully and in its own true form” (qtd. in 693).

The owl and the mask in Allegory of Dreams can also be viewed as forms of wisdom and truth. In the painting, the owl is on the right side of the glass, appearing as if the woman is directing the lens towards the owl. Supporting Hamburgh’s interpretation of the lens serving as an aid, the direction of the lens leaning towards the owl is appropriate, leading the “soul” (or in this case, the woman) towards truth. Historically, owls were known to symbolize wisdom, an element deriving from Greek mythology. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom, and most depictions of her are coupled with an image of a small owl. It stands to reason that the

89 correlation of owls with wisdom emerged from such depictions of Athena.

The mask object near the bottom right of the painting is presented as an analogy for the discovery of truth. Hamburgh explains that the mask in Allegory of Dreams is similar to a mask in another Renaissance work, Exposure of Luxury, 1540, by Italian artist Bronzino (1503–1572).

In Bronzino’s piece, there are two masks on the bottom right, the same location as in Naldini’s piece. Hamburgh references the Bronzino masks as an element of disguise, suggestive of symbolizing deception and fraud; in contrast, Hamburgh understands the Naldini mask as signifying truth. He explains that because this object is unmasked, it denotes exposure and the notion of revealing one’s true form. This notion of the mask standing for truth fits with the allegorical suggestions of the lens and the owl; perhaps to attain truth, one must have clarity and the wisdom to fully receive it.

Rediscoveries of classical antiquity rejuvenated and shaped the ethos of the Renaissance period. The re-analyzation of classical literature, manuscripts, and art unlocked esoteric disciplines of past times, nurturing and expanding the minds of scholars and artists of the modern world. Hermetic beliefs of magic and alchemy made an imprint in the art of several Renaissance artists, confirming the popularity of such topics. The following chapter will focus on Surrealist artist Remedios Varo, and three of her works: Harmony, 1956; The Creation of Birds, 1957; and

Still Life Reviving, 1963. The chapter will provide an in-depth analysis of each work, connecting them to the culture of Renaissance magic and alchemy.

CHAPTER 6

RENAISSANCE MAGIC AND ALCHEMY IN THE WORKS OF REMEDIOS VARO

Symbolism of magic and alchemy is visible in the art of Remedios Varo. The three works of focus, Harmony, 1956; Creation of Birds, 1957; and Still Life Reviving, 1963, are among

Varo’s mature works of the years 1955–63 painted during her residency in Mexico City. These were the years in which her art fully manifested hermetic influences like those of some

Renaissance art. Her fascination with magic, alchemy, philosophy, and science was akin to subjects that were popular with and examined by scholars and artists of the Renaissance era. Her works also reflect her interest in and knowledge of Renaissance art and style. These topics and influences are examined in the three works by Varo.

Harmony

Varo created Harmony in 1956, the same year she had her first solo exhibition in Mexico

City, Mexico. Harmony is a 29 by 37 inch oil painting made on Masonite board (fig. 43). In this painting, a figure sits at a desk arranging objects that are attached to a musical staff. These objects range from organic materials––such as an ivy leaf, flower petals, seashells, and crystal rocks––to geometrical glass objects and mathematical equations written on paper. Surrounding the figure are two opened chests filled with geometrically shaped glass, including one unopened chest toward the back of the room. The room has cement walls, arch windows, an arch doorway, and grey and gold checker-pattern tiles. On the left and the right, each wall has an image of a woman in translucent form that appear to be mirror images of each other. Hung on the wall to the right side of the doorway is a rack holding four elongated teardrop-shape glasses, and below the rack stands a partially torn red chair with a bird’s nest inside of the tear. Two small birds are

91 present, one flying toward the nest and the other flying out the doorway. In the back of the room is a bookshelf with an arched addition on the top of the shelf. Inside of this top shelf is a bed with red sheets and fabric drapes, and hanging on the left side of the bed is a ladder.

Fig. 43. Remedios Varo, Harmony, 1956. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 90.

The setting in Harmony resembles the architecture and the images of scholars from the

Renaissance period. The architectural design of the room consists of four arch windows and one arch doorway. These arches are semi-circular in form and are a common feature of the era. Leon

Battista Alberti was a Renaissance architect who used arches within his designs. An exemplary

Alberti structure with arches is the Basilica of Sant' Andrea (1472–1790), a Roman Catholic cathedral in Mantua, Italy (fig. 44). The exterior of Basilica Sant’ Andrea consists of a large arch entryway and four arch windows. Inside, around the dome of the structure, a different set of arch

92 windows and arch doorways are visible from the interior (fig. 45). The interior view of the high arch windows and arch doorways shows the similarities between the architectural design displayed in Varo’s Harmony and Renaissance architecture.

Fig. 44. Leon Battista Alberti, Basilica of Sant’ Andrea, 1472–1790, Exterior. Khanacademy.org.

Fig. 45. Leon Battista Alberti, Basilica Sant’ Andrea, 1472–1790, Interior. In-lombardia.com.

The individual sitting at the desk in Harmony is like the image of scholars seen in some

Renaissance works. Depictions of scholars in Renaissance art often show an individual at a desk attending to books or literature. A type of person seen in this kind of depiction is the scribe, who

93 copies text. Scribes appear in medieval illuminated manuscripts in which the illustrations picture a scribe with two books, one for copying and the other for writing. An example of this depiction is a mid-fifteenth century illustration titled Jean Miélot at His Desk, from a manuscript written by author, scribe, and translator Jean Miélot (c. 1473; fig. 46). In this image, Miélot is working in what appears to be his bedroom. He sits at a wooden desk, with multiple books spread upon the floor next to an unopened chest and his bed positioned behind him. The presence of the bed suggests that Miélot is not working in an office but rather from the comfort of his home. Linne

R. Mooney makes a note of this suggestion in Design and Distribution of Late Medieval

Manuscripts in England: “The point here is that Miélot is not working in a shop, office, or scriptorium; and what evidence we have suggests that when they were copying books many, or perhaps even most, vernacular text writers in London in the fifteenth century worked in these conditions as well” (183).

Fig. 46. Jean Miélot at His desk, C. Fifteenth Century. Commons.wikimedia.org.

Other scholars portrayed in Renaissance art are religious figures, such as priests. A renowned figure represented as this type of scholar is Saint Jerome (c. 347–420), a Christian priest, theologian, and translator. The title of a popular work depicting Saint Jerome as a scholar is “Saint Jerome in His Study.” Several artists created multiple versions; examples are Saint

Jerome in His Study, 1475, by Antonello da Messina (1430–1479; fig. 47) and Saint Jerome in

His Study, 1514, by Albrecht Dürer (fig. 48). Both pieces show Saint Jerome sitting at a desk, attentive to his work, and both show him inside a study space with natural light from arch-style windows. Antonello’s oil painting shows the perspective of the viewer standing outside a window; a quail and a peacock are perched on the windowsill. The floors are tiled, with many arch doorways, and to the right of the painting stands a lion. Dürer’s engraving shows the perspective of the viewer standing inside the room, with a dog and lion closest to the viewer.

Fig. 47. Antonello da Messina, Saint Jerome in His Study, 1475. Wikipedia.org.

Fig. 48. Albrecht Dürer, Saint Jerome in His Study, 1514. Wikipedia.org.

Visually, Harmony’s composition is similar to these three Renaissance works. The clearest similarity is the figure sitting at the desk, orchestrating his work. He coincides with images of scholars such as Jean Miélot at His Desk and both Saint Jerome in His Study paintings. A slight contrast is that the figure in Harmony is attending to objects rather than a book or manuscript; however, to the left of the desk is an opened book propped on a bedside drawer. This is very similar to Jean Miélot at His Desk, where a second source of literature sits next to his desk.

Two other items noticeable in Harmony that are similar to Jean Miélot at His Desk are the chest and the bed. The opened chest in both works is in approximately the same location, slightly next to the central figures. Items within the chests complement each figure’s work. For instance, in Harmony, the scholar is working with glass objects, and emerging from the chest are glass-like objects and crystals. In Jean Miélot at His Desk, Miélot is writing on two large sheets of paper, and in his chest are sheets of paper and books.

The bed displayed in both works shows that they both share similar workspaces; inside a home or at least a place of rest or comfort. However, the location of the beds differs. The bed in

Harmony is positioned in an obscure location above the bookcase, and the bed in Jean Miélot at

His Desk is in a non-obscure position on the floor behind Jean Miélot. Nevertheless, both the chest and the bed are indicative of the keen resemblance the two paintings share with one another.

Harmony and both versions of Saint Jerome in His Study also share a strong likeness.

Janet Kaplan mentions that Varo’s paintings, especially those that depict a scientist-artist figure, recall Renaissance portrayals of saints in their studies (190). Kaplan specifies the resemblance and elaborate artistic detail shared between Harmony and Antonello’s version. She comments,

“For both Varo and Antonello, this attention to detail derived from similar sources—the early

Netherlandish style of encyclopedic inventory found in Flemish painting of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries” (190). The resemblances between these two works are that both of the central figures sit facing the viewer’s left and that both paintings share the same architectural design of arch style windows, have tiled floors painted in linear perspective format, and present the image of birds.

In Dürer’s version, the seated position of St. Jerome differs from the figure in Harmony:

St. Jerome is facing the viewer instead of facing left. There are two objects present in both works, namely the glass apparatuses hanging on a wooden shelf and a closed chest. In Dürer’s piece, the chest is under a wooden pew toward the bottom left of the engraving; in Harmony, the unopened green chest is near the back of the room. These shared characteristics of Harmony and both versions of St. Jerome in His Study show that Varo must have had an interest in or come across these two Renaissance works at some point in her artistic studies.

Besides the visual similarities between Harmony and some Renaissance works, the individual subjects within Varo’s painting and its connection to magic and alchemy are analyzed.

To continue discussing the main character, the figure was identified by Varo as a man attempting to connect all things through the energies from beyond, through music. According to Varo, the musical staff attached to the desk serves as the conduit by which harmonious sound gives forth the abilities for the man to manipulate his surroundings. She explains, “The character is trying to find the invisible thread that unites all things, that’s why he’s stringing together, on a musical staff of metal threads, all kinds of objects.” She continues, “By blowing through the clef that holds up the musical staff, a music should emerge that is not only harmonious but also objective, that is, able to move things that surround him if that’s how he wishes to use it” (102).

Music is portrayed as the primary source of magic, and the figure acts as the composer, magician, or “keeper of the universe” (Lozano 45). When Varo expresses that the music emerging from the staff is also objective, she perceives it as something cosmic. She explains,

“When I use the word ‘objective’ I understand it to be something outside of our world, or rather, beyond it, and which finds itself connected to the world of causes” (102).

Varo’s explanation of the interrelatedness of music and cosmic energy is comparable to

Marsilio Ficino’s views of music as spiritual. Influenced by the concepts of Pythagoras and

Plato, in which music is harmonious with order and the human soul, Ficino showed in De Vita

III, “On Obtaining Life From the Heavens” his emphasis that music in the form of sound and song are of cosmic harmony, linked with heavenly bodies, and that music has the ability to manipulate emotions and heal the soul. Ficino emphasizes music as connecting to certain celestial bodies, such as Mercury, Venus, and the Sun, and including the Greek god Apollo, known as the god of music. Ficino writes, “Remember that all music comes from Apollo …

Musical spirit touches and works in the spirit as a medium between the body and the soul … if you agree with Pythagoreans and Platonists that this is a heavenly spirit, arranging everything with its movements and tones” (162).

Music as a spiritual element is present in Harmony. The figure sits near a luminous ray of light cast upon the clef symbol of the musical staff. He arranges his items on the strings, receiving help from a ghostly figure appearing from the wall in front of him. As Varo specifies, music comes from forces from the beyond, and it serves as an aide for the composer to achieve his desired arrangement. This arrangement being put forth is perceived by Whitney Chadwick as

Varo’s quest for spiritual harmony. Chadwick views the character in Harmony as Remedios

Varo, describing the figure as reflecting Varo’s life and her findings of inner truth. Chadwick notes, “Varo’s voyages gradually turned away from memories of the many journeys she herself had taken as a child and as an adult to visions of journeys to enlightenment and spiritual purification” (177). Chadwick also indicates that the magical correspondence between the light cast upon the staff and the sound emerging from it ensures order and creation in the natural world (177). The music represented in Harmony not only provides the ability to generate order of all the items surrounding the figure but is also the component that nurtures his path toward inner spiritual harmony.

A closer look at the items orchestrated on the musical strings reveals a few objects symbolic of magical properties: three geometrically shaped crystals, two stones, a root plant, an ivy leaf, and a coral shell (fig. 49). Two of the three crystals are triangular in form, and the third is hexagonal in form, with two pointed ends and six sides. These crystals are rock crystals, a type of rock composed of quartz, an abundant mineral that materializes in the Earth’s crust.

Generally, rock crystals are transparent or clear in color, just like those shown in Harmony. The

99 mystical beliefs of crystal quartz date to ancient Egypt, where quartz was believed to heal and free the body of negative energies. The ancient Greeks also believed in its supernatural abilities and valued crystal quartz for its beauty. They thought that it was frozen water with eternal properties and called it krystallos, from the word kryo, meaning “icy cold”; in the Middle Ages, the word transitioned to “crystals” (Steiger and Steiger, 2:173).

Fig. 49. Detail of Harmony. Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo, Janet A. Kaplan. Abbeville, 2000; print; 178.

In the medieval and Renaissance eras, crystals and gemstones such as emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds appeared in medical treaties suggesting their abilities in remedying certain ailments. Saint Hildegard of Bingen, a German Benedictine abbess (Catholic superior nun), wrote in Liber Divinorum Operum, 1163–73, of gemstones such as onyx and sapphire

100 having restorative abilities and containing energy, since they are made of water from bodies of water such as rivers or of fire (heat) from the sun (Hildegard 181). Ficino also mentions, in De

Vita III, the significance of certain crystals and gems and their mystical capabilities, and he links them to certain planets to enhance such powers. He mentions chalcedony, a microcrystalline type of quartz seen in stones such as onyx, jasper, and agates, and how it can restore and strengthen vitality. He writes, “Chalcedony likewise works against the illusions of black bile, with the power of Jove [Jupiter] and Venus, and other things work their properties in the same way, balsam protecting one’s youth, sharpening one’s old age, and stimulating the mind and memory”

(Ficino 123).

The two other stones in Harmony belong to a similar healing and protective realm as crystal quartz. One stone, on the bottom left side of the string, is a round milky-white colored stone with a smooth texture, and the other is the same in appearance but grey in color. It is not known what type of stones they are; however, based on research of mystical stones and given their smooth texture and circular shape, they closely resemble bezoar stones. These are masses that sometimes occur in the stomach or intestines of various ruminant animals, such as goats, oxen, and deer. The stones form when the bodily chemicals calcium and magnesium gradually develop around undigested materials, such as a small pebble or plant fiber. The squeezing effect of stomach contractions smooths the stone into a round shape (fig. 50). These stones range from light colors of white, tan, and yellow to dark tones of black, brown, and grey.

101

Fig. 50. Bezoar stones. Science.howstuffworks.com.

The name of bezoar stones comes from the Persian word padzahr, meaning “to expel poison,” and it is suggested that some alchemists used these stones in the attempt to remove arsenic from royal wine (Jueneman 1). During the early medieval era, it was thought that bezoar stones had the ability to cure certain poisonings, or illnesses such as melancholia and even the plague (Figueroa 139). Bezoar stones are mentioned in some medieval Arabic and Jewish works, such as the Book of Stones by Iranian scholar Al Biruni (973–1050) and the Treatise on Poison and Their Antidotes by Jewish philosopher Moses Maimonides (1135–1204). Illustrations of bezoar stones made their appearance in Hortus Sanitatis, one of the first natural history encyclopedias, published in Germany in 1491 (fig. 51).

Fig. 51. Hortus Sanitatis, Strassburg, c. 1507, Bezoar Stone Illustration. Huntingtonblogs.org.

102

Ficino also references bezoar stones in the section regarding gemstones, talismans, and amulets in De vita III, commenting that stones such as bezoars are “endowed with hidden properties of gifts” (123). Ficino suggests that these gifts are received by ingesting or touching the stones, after which healing occurs with the help of divine powers. He writes, “They bring their heavenly force into the spirits, which protect against poison and plague itself” (123). Some theories of how to use bezoar stones as an antidote involve drinking a glass of water containing grindings of the stone; dipping the stone in food or drink before eating; and wearing the stone around the neck as an amulet (Figueroa 141).

The root plant in Harmony resembles a mandrake root. This root is native of the

Mediterranean region and is part of the mandragora species, and the roots are usually light beige or brown in color. The mandrake’s official name is Mandragora Officinalis (Clark 258). Plants of the mandragora species have toxic properties in the roots and leaves; when taken in small amounts, they can effect an altered state and cause hallucinations and a feeling of lightness.

When taken in large amounts, the plant is considered poisonous. The root has a shape that is human-like, with a small body and multiple extended slender roots that resemble arms and legs, sometimes wrapping around the body (fig. 52).

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Fig. 52. Seedling mandrake. Metmuseum.org.

The magic element of mandrake roots falls under the animistic principle that things in nature have spirits or personalities embedded within them. The root, with its human-like shape, is considered the mystical part of the mandrake. It was thought that if the mandrake was uprooted, it would give a loud shrieking cry that would kill the person who removed it (Bailey and Durrant 58). To avoid the horrific effects of uprooting a mandrake, one would partially pull up the root and tie a rope to it. Then, the other end was tied to a dog; the person would walk away while the dog followed, and the mandrake would be fully uprooted by the dog pulling the rope.

The suggestion that the root in Harmony is a mandrake is fitting not just because of its physical resemblance but also because Varo was known to be fascinated with mandrake roots.

As mentioned in Chapter 4 of this thesis, Kaplan referenced that Varo as a child once wrote a letter to a Hindu asking if he could send her a mandrake root, because she had heard that it possessed magical properties. Her fascination with the mandrake root carried into her adulthood.

It was said that she was often curious if potatoes, like a mandrake, would make a loud shrieking sound when they were being peeled (Kaplan 18). Varo also showed her interest in the myth of

104 mandrake root through one of her writing projects. In an unpublished story, she created a character named Caprino Mandragora, described as a “Feline Goatlike Mandrake” (Kaplan 95).

The ivy leaf included in the musical arrangement in Harmony also holds mystical significance. Varo was known to depict various plants in her works, and ivy was among those that appeared not only in Harmony but also in other paintings, such as Souvenir of the Valkyrie,

1938; For My Friend Agustin Lazo, 1945 (fig. 53); and Cosmic Energy, 1956 (fig. 54). Souvenir of the Valkyrie shows a leafy vine wrapped around a woman’s corset, and For My Friend

Agustin Lazo includes a large vine wrapping and climbing toward the top of a windmill-like structure. In Cosmic Energy, two ghostly female figures, akin to the figures in Harmony, show ivy vines attached to their heads, mimicking hair.

Fig. 53. Remedios Varo, For my Friend Agustin Lazo, 1945. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 41.

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Fig. 54. Remedios Varo, Cosmic Energy, 1956. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 89.

A mystical significance attributed to ivy is that it symbolizes eternity and immortality because of its evergreen qualities. Evergreen plants typically hold their foliage and green color all year round, which enables these types of plants to appear strong and everlasting. Accordingly, ivy is symbolic of having immortal qualities.

In some European folklore, ivy was associated with occult practices such as witchcraft.

Chapter five of The Folk-lore of Plants by T. F. Thiselton-Dyer discusses certain plants, such as ivy, in the context of witchcraft and rituals. In one account, Dyer indicates the use of ivy as a

“counter-charm” among witches. He notes that in Tyrol (a region in western Austria), a rue plant combined with other plants like agrimony, maiden-hair, broom-straw, and ivy, worn around the neck was believed to grant clairvoyance senses or “fine vision,” therefore, making it easy to identify the presence of witches (536). He also notes that in Germany, the notion of the counter- charm is similar to that in the Tyrol region, according to which bearing certain wild plants, such

106 as ivy, could reveal witches, particularly if done on Walpurgis Night (Dyer 631), a Christian celebration of the eighth-century abbess Saint Walpurga of Francia.

Ivy is also linked to the ancient Greek god Dionysus. It is one of the symbols associated with this figure, as he was thought of as the god of wine, cultivation, fruitfulness, and fertility.

Depictions of Dionysus commonly show ivy leaves, grape ivy, or the god wearing an ivy wreath.

For example, an ancient Greek vase painting, Satyr and Dionysus (c. fifth century BC), shows

Dionysus wearing an ivy wreath, with grape leaves embedded within the background (fig. 55).

This is also seen in a Renaissance work by Italian artist Titian (1488–1576) titled Bacchus and

Ariadne, 1520–23, where Bacchus (the name of Dionysus in Roman mythology) wears an ivy crown; grape leaves are wrapped around a staff held by another figure. Ivy as an allegorical element is widely seen in Renaissance works as well. For instance, the angel figure in Albrecht

Dürer’s Melencolia, 1514, is shown wearing an ivy wreath, and Venus and Cupid, 1540, by

Italian artist Lorenzo Lotto (1480–1556), displays Venus holding an ivy wreath on a string; in the background, a patch of ivy vines climb a tree (fig. 56).

Fig. 55. Satyr and Dionysus, c. Fifth century BC. Theoi.com.

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Fig. 56. Lorenzo Lotto, Venus and Cupid, 1540. www.wga.hu.

Along the lines of Lorenzo’s Venus and Cupid, a trait noticeable in this painting and similar to Varo’s Harmony is the arrangement of ivy and a seashell. In Lorenzo’s painting, there is a seashell hanging next to the ivy vines. This placement of objects is similar to Varo’s arrangement, where a seashell and an ivy leaf are next to each other. Another observation is that the climbing vine in Lorenzo’s work is also reminiscent of the climbing vine in Varo’s For My

Friend Agustin Lazo. The vines in both paintings wrap and ascend a body of structure.

With regards to seashells and their magical properties, these objects were seen in ancient

Egypt as some of the most favored items used on amulets. Seashells and coral were worn as a necklace, bracelet, anklet, or on the body of the living and the dead (Melton 45). For the living, seashells were used as a form of protection from evil spirits, including protection against illnesses. For example, some Egyptian women wore cowrie shells in their girdle to protect their reproductive organs, and in the case that a woman was pregnant, they believed that it would also protect her unborn child (Bergeron 175). This notion stems from the appearance of the cowrie shell, since it resembles the female genitalia; it was believed that it had the ability to shield that particular organ and those associated with it.

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Cowrie shells were also believed to protect against the “evil eye,” a curse believed to occur through another person’s glare, bringing forth injury or misfortune. Aside from the cowrie shell’s likeness to the female genitals, it also resembles a half-lidded eye, which is the reason for the linkage between the cowrie shell and evil eye. In the article “Cowrie Shells as Amulets in

Europe,” W.L. Hildburgh presents various cases in parts of Europe, such as Spain, Italy, and

Germany, of the use of cowrie shell amulets for the purpose of repelling the effects of the evil eye. In one case, he references a letter written in 1411 by poet and philosopher Enrique de

Villena (1384–1434) and his speaking about the workings of these amulets against evil eye commenting “el daiho de aojamiento” [injury from the evil eye] (Hildburgh192).

Seashells have also been associated with certain Greek deities, such as the goddess

Aphrodite. The story of Aphrodite involves her connection with the sea, based on the belief that she was created in the ocean. Accordingly, seashells have become one of her symbols. Aphrodite is also coupled with the planet Venus, making her known as the goddess Venus, and she is typically the symbol of beauty, love, femininity, and fertility. An exemplary depiction of

Aphrodite’s symbolic traits is the painting The Birth of Venus, 1484–86, by Italian Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli (1445–1510), in which the newly born goddess Venus stands nude on a large scallop shell, surrounded by the ocean, with her long golden hair partially wrapped around her body (fig. 57).

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Fig. 57. Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus, 1484–86. Artsandculture.google.com.

Given the aforementioned mystical qualities of seashells and their connection with feminine attributes, it is apt that the scenery involves the seashell in Harmony—the seashell is in contact with the ghostly female figure emerging from the wall. Her hand reaches out from the other side and touches the shell, helping the main figure with his arrangements. Her appearance from beyond the wall creates a large rip of material that halos from her head to her waist. The transparent glow that emanates from this figure portrays a soft, angelic-like aura, conveying the seashell’s symbolic traits of beauty and femininity.

The subject of seashells also appears in another of Varo’s paintings, The Flutist, 1955, in which an androgynous character constructs a building out of large plant, fish, and seashell fossils

(fig. 58). In this painting, the character moves the fossils by the music of a flute, conveying the same concept as Harmony, in which music acts as a magical thread arranging objects according to the character’s wishes. The seashell fossils are among the objects of arrangement, as in

Harmony, except there is no direct contact made by a female figure. Instead, they are in contact with music and Varo portrays this act by painting the fossils as floating in an ascending

110 whirlwind formation. Nonetheless, the depiction of seashells are visible and a part of a transcendent interaction.

Fig. 58. Remedios Varo, The Flutist, 1955. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 109.

Altogether, Varo’s choice of objects on the musical staff in Harmony are a reflection of her belief that inanimate objects are capable of possessing magical powers and that the organization and placement of these objects can magnify the magic abilities of each piece. It is said about Varo that her apartment in Mexico City was decorated with objects such as talismans, quartz crystals, stones, and various pieces of wood (Kaplan 90). A friend of Varo even commented that “Varo would give you something—a shell, a stone, a bead—and tell you that it was magical and warn you not to lose it” (qtd. in Kaplan 92). Further, the American business magazine Forbes reviewed a recent exhibition that took place from October 2018 to February

2019 at the Museum of Modern Art (Museo de Arte Moderno) in Mexico City, titled Adictos a

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Remedios Varo (Addicted to Remedios Varo). The reviewer, Clayton Press, noted that Varo’s personal collection of such items was on view, namely amulets, stones, jewelry, and other symbolic objects that gave an understanding of some of Varo’s influences and “almost fetishistic source material that inspired her” (Press 1). From the descriptions of Varo’s apartment and the review by Press, it is reasonable to assume that the objects seen on the musical strings in

Harmony are a central focus of Varo’s beliefs.

In a continued analysis of the magical subjects in Harmony, the two ghostly women emerging from the walls are of attention. It appears that these figures are actually doubles of one another. They are shown as mirror images, and both are arranging a seashell. Varo mentions that these ghostly figures are collaborators of the main character and stand for chance, specifically

“objective chance,” in which something outside of this world causes such chance to take place

(102). Varo also notes that chance often plays a part in discoveries; this notion is visible in

Harmony, where the ghostly figures help the character in the discovery of spiritual balance.

The notion of chance was a familiar concept to Varo and other artists of the Surrealist movement. As mentioned in Chapter 2, the period of the Dada movement and early Surrealism

(1915 through the 1920s) brought up experimental forms of creating art. Among these forms was the method of the laws of chance, typically seen in collage works in which the artist had let the materials fall onto the work surface without his or her own planning or control, leaving chance to determine the outcome of the piece. As an active Surrealist, Varo was sure to be surrounded by the idea of chance.

Given that Varo’s works were always so carefully planned and detailed, she did not use the Surrealists’ method of the laws of chance to create her art. However, she did implement the concept of chance within her works, and through the depictions of these ghostly figures, she

112 rendered it as something cosmic and supernatural. The idea of chance as part of something cosmic is also seen in another Varo painting, Cosmic Energy, which shows two ghostly figures peering from the walls. This painting was made in 1956, the same year as Harmony, and displays two female ghostly figures, facing each other in a similar fashion. The figure on the left is touching a cat, her hand emitting luminous white sparks; the other figure is playing a violin. Next to each figure, a ray of light breaks through a small hole, like a spotlight. The observation of

Cosmic Energy makes it apparent that cosmic auras are present within this painting, from the bright lights breaking through from beyond the wall to the celestial sparks emanating from the woman’s touch.

Another item of focus in Harmony that prompts mystical elements is the bed. The bed is an indication of sleep and therefore opens the door to the subject of dreams. It perhaps represents an arena in Varo’s quest for inner truth through the realm of dreams. As noted in Chapter 2, dreams played a significant role in the creation of Surrealist art. The concept of dream painting provided an environment for artists to tap into their unconscious and creatively manifest their inner psyche through art. Furthermore, Chapter 5 of this thesis sets forth that dreams were a part of an esoteric discipline that received wide attention during the Renaissance era, in which dreams were perceived as prophetic or as messages from divine forces. Dreams were also viewed in the early modern period (1500–1800) as a source of vision from the inner eye, a belief that entails receiving knowledge and perception beyond one’s ordinary sight (Campbell 35). Mary Baine

Campbell refers to this kind of visual experience in “The Inner Eye: Early Modern Dreaming and

Disembodied Sight” as the “waking self” and “seeing in in our sleep,” and that many societies believed this type of vision conveyed insight and truth (35).

Remedios Varo followed the realm of the dreams not only in her art but also in her

113 writings. These are accessible in a compilation of Varo’s written works titled “Letters, Dreams and Other Writings,” which includes a journal of ten dream experiences. Of these entries, Dream

9 and Dream 10 show the depth of Varo’s inner spiritual quest. In Dream 9, she shares an encounter between herself and a frightful creature, or “thing.” She contemplates whether or not this creature is a metaphor of herself. She writes, “I took another step forward and at that moment I sensed with frightful horror something behind me that instead was coming out of myself…” She continues, “I had somehow wanted to hear that threat outside and above, whereas in truth it was always beside me or in me” (Varo 94). Varo also references the notion of truth in

Dream 10, saying that in her dream, she had discovered an important secret relating to some type of “absolute truth” (94).

In Harmony, the thin ladder hanging next to the bed shows allegorical significance regarding spiritual and alchemical interpretations. Matilde Battistini suggests regarding spiritual interpretations and connections with ladders that depictions of a journey up a ladder are often a subject in the alchemical imagination and relate to a Neoplatonic notion that the ascent of one’s soul is done through celestial influences and that the journey of the soul aims to purify the divine component concealed within (368). In this sense, the ladder symbolizes the thread connecting the soul with celestial powers. Similar in context, in the biblical story of Jacob’s Ladder, a ladder also symbolizes a vehicle between two existences. In the Book of Genesis, it describes Jacob (a patriarch) having a dream vision in which he encounters a majestic ladder, angels ascending and descending upon it, that connects earth with heaven. Depictions of Jacob’s Ladder were seen in medieval and Renaissance manuscripts such as Picture Bible, c. 1244–54 (fig. 59) and Book of

Hours, c. 1473 (fig. 60), and included paintings such as The Dream of Jacob, c. 1500, by French

Renaissance artist Nicolas Dipre (1495–1532; fig. 61). Although Varo does not show an

114 individual climbing up the ladder in Harmony, she too uses the ladder as the vehicle or journey in reaching a place of spiritual transcendence.

Fig. 59. Detail from Picture Bible, c. 1244–1254. Themorgan.org.

Fig. 60. Book of Hours, c. 1473. Themorgan.org.

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Fig. 61. Nicolas Dipre, The Dream of Jacob, c. 1500. Wikipedia.org.

Regarding the connection of alchemy and ladders, some medieval and Renaissance works depict this allegory. As discussed in Chapter 5, the ladder as a symbol of alchemy is exhibited in

Albrecht Dürer’s Melencolia I (fig. 38), and John Read suggests in “Durer’s Melencolia: An

Alchemical Interpretation” that the seven-rung ladder symbolizes the seven metals and planets associated with alchemy (284). A seven-rung ladder also appears in another example, the illuminated alchemical manuscript Splendor Solis, 1582: a man stands on a ladder to pick fruit from the Philosophic Tree. The tree is often represented as the alchemical process or the Great

Work (fig. 62).

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Fig. 62. Splendor Solis, 1582. Wikipedia.org.

In furtherance of Harmony in terms of depictions of alchemy, there is alchemical equipment shown at the center of the bookcase and to the right of the door. Elongated glass beakers closely resemble alembics, distilling apparatuses used by alchemists. Varo has illustrated these alembics with an exaggerated look: the neck of the flask is very thin and slender (fig. 63), suggesting the way Hieronymus Bosch illustrated the alembic-like structures in Garden of

Earthly Delights (fig. 64). However, the context of the alembics differs: Varo depicts them as actual apparatuses, while Bosch depicts them as transfigured buildings. Varo’s art style often resembles that of Bosch through the incorporation into her own work of similar objects found in his. It is known that she was highly interested in his art and was often exposed as a young girl to his works at the Prado Museum in Madrid, Spain (Kaplan 200). The apparatuses shown in

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Harmony are indicative of Varo’s knowledge of alchemical tools, including her imaginative style inspired by Bosch.

Fig. 63. Alembics, Harmony. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 156.

Fig. 64. Alembic Structure, Garden of Earthly Delights. Wikipedia.org.

Harmony communicates Varo’s belief of interconnectedness. She conveys this notion through the subject of music, order, chance, and the magic of cosmic spiritual forces, combined with the notion that interconnectedness prompts a harmonious balance of one’s inner truth. A

118 painting that was created in the same year of her first solo exhibition, it is a biographical reflection of Varo’s beliefs and her spiritual journey.

Creation of Birds

In 1957, Varo’s art continued to flourish after gaining much attention through the debut of her solo exhibition. In this year, she produced one of her most well-known works, titled

Creation of Birds (fig. 65). Its size is 21 ¼ inches by 25 ¼ inches, in the medium of oil paint on

Masonite board. This work readily calls attention to hermetic influences, especially the art of alchemy. It also embodies Renaissance architectural components and bears visual similarities to

Renaissance works.

Fig. 65. Remedios Varo, Creation of Birds, 1957. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 105.

Creation of Birds illustrates a half-owl, half-woman figure sitting in a room at a wooden desk, with a paint brush in her right hand and a triangularly shaped magnifying lens in the other.

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The character is painting birds, and she is using paints that are pouring from an alchemical distillation device. A glass tube attached to this device extends outside of the room through a window and appears to ascend toward the sky. The magnifying glass held in the character’s left hand captures a beam of moonlight from a window and emanates the light onto the painted birds, transforming them into living creatures. In the far back corner of the room, two vases are mounted on the walls, water flowing from one vase to the other. Also in the back of the room is what appears to be a chest with a funnel attached on top and a mechanical crank on its right side.

The architectural and visual settings of Creation of Birds have a Renaissance-influenced setting similar to Harmony, with arch windows and walls and tiled floors. Also noticeable in

Creation of Birds is the character positioned at a desk, calling to mind the common depiction of scholars sitting at a desk, such as the depictions of St Jerome in his study already viewed by

Antonella da Messina and by Albrecht Dürer (figs. 47 and 48). However, Creation of Birds might also instructively be compared to another painting, Saint Mary Magdalene at her Writing

Desk, c. 1600 (fig. 66). A distinct trait of this painting is that the main figure is a woman sitting at the desk, as opposed to a man. In Varo’s Creation of Birds, the hybrid character appears as a woman and is sitting in the precise position of Saint Mary Magdalene, in which she is partly looking down at the desk, with her body facing toward the viewer. There is also a likeness in the facial features, both having a heart-shaped face and high pointed nose. In furtherance, the figures in both paintings have two items in their hands. In Varo’s painting, it is a paint brush and a magnifying glass while in Saint Mary Magdalene at her Writing Desk, it is two pens. The similarities in architectural design and visual appearance shows that Varo may have encountered this work at some point on her artistic journey.

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Fig. 66. Saint Mary Magdalene at Her Writing Desk, c. Sixteenth century. Commons.Wikimedia.org.

The metamorphic owl-woman in Creation of Birds calls attention to a number of hybrid bird-like characters in paintings by Bosch. For instance, in Bosch’s Triptych of the Temptation of

St. Anthony, 1500–25, the left panel shows a bird-human figure near the bottom right of the panel. This character has the head of a bird with a sharp black beak, and the body of a human wearing a bright red cloak (fig. 67). On the right panel, another bird-human is shown near the bottom right, sitting on a tall wooden stool and consuming a human (fig. 68). Although Bosch’s hybrid characters appear to occur in more sinister forms and settings than Varo’s owl-woman, they nonetheless exemplify similarities to the fanciful metaphoric figures which Varo instilled in her works, most likely influenced by Bosch.

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Fig. 67. Bird 1, Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony. Commons.Wikimedia.org.

Fig. 68. Bird 2, Garden of Earthly Delights. Wikipedia.org.

Aside from Creation of Birds, the portrayal of an owl-human subject appears in two other paintings by Varo, Nocturnal Hunt, 1958, and The Encounter, 1962. Both paintings show a figure with the torso of an owl and the lower body of a human. In The Encounter (fig. 69), the character takes on the form of a barn owl, while the character in Nocturnal Hunt is a great horned owl and wearing a speckled red cloak (fig. 70).

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Fig. 69. Remedios Varo, The Encounter, 1962. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 12.

Fig. 70. Remedios Varo, Nocturnal Hunt, 1958. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 133.

The use of the owl itself as a subject is a noticeable characteristic in many of Varo’s paintings. Aside from the works mentioned in the previous paragraph, the owl is also seen in The

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Little Owl, 1957 (fig. 71) and The Juggler (The Magician), 1956. By comparison, Bosch also implemented owls in some of his works. For instance, three owls appear in The Garden of

Earthly Delights, one in the left panel and two in the central panel. Other sightings are of a barn owl and a pygmy owl (small owl), shown in the central panel of The Temptation of St. Anthony, and of a barn owl peering from a magician’s woven basket in The Conjurer, 1502.

Fig. 71. Remedios Varo, The Little Owl, 1957. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 71.

The symbolism of owls is vast; some meanings are welcoming, while others are uninviting. On the one hand, owls are said to signify wisdom, knowledge, and clarity. As mentioned in Chapter 5 of this thesis, this notion is linked with the Greek goddess of wisdom,

Athena, and to the depictions of her with a small owl. In addition, owls were viewed by alchemists as a good omen (Dixon, Alchemical Imagery 33). Unappealing meanings of owls involve ominous interpretations; for instance, in ancient Chinese culture, it was believed that cry

124 of an owl was a sign or message of death, and the phrase “digging a grave” was used when the owl’s cry was heard (Sanders 50). This thought was also familiar to the Egyptians. In a

Metropolitan Museum of Art article, “An Egyptian Bestiary,” Dorothea Arnold interprets an

Egyptian relief sculpture of a barn owl from the Ptolemaic Period (304–30 BC) as signifying death and mourning, since owls were known as nocturnal “keen-sighted hunters” (47). Further, in the Middle Ages, owls were perceived as an evil omen and were thought of as allies of witches or as their “workers of wickedness” (Sanders 50).

It is noticeable that Varo takes the less ominous approach in her paintings. In Creation of

Birds, the owl has a faint smile and is in a state of creation perceived as a positive element of wisdom and growth. Kaplan comments that the embodiment of new life made by “Wisdom [the owl]” is centralized around harmony, creativity, and the interconnection of art, science, alchemy, and nature. Because all of these concepts were most important to Varo, this painting can be seen as the archetypal achievement of her quest (182). Chadwick also references the owl-woman character as a personified wise owl and suggests that Creation of Birds is an image that portrays the notion of knowledge (202). Furthermore, Varo’s Little Owl shows the figure positioned inside a partly opened cocoon, and it appears to be fully metamorphosed into an owl figure. The notion of undergoing transformation can be perceived as rejuvenation and rebirth, both indicative of wisdom.

In furtherance of analyzing allegorical subjects in Creation of Birds, there are several items surrounding the owl-woman that closely connect to magic and alchemy. These items include a stringed instrument, a triangular magnifying lens, the moon, a double alembic, the double vases, and the four birds.

The stringed instrument exhibited in this painting resembles a violin, with a curved shape

125 and four strings. Noticeable is that the violin is worn as a necklace, recalling the mystical and auspicious properties of a talisman or amulet. One of the violin strings is converted into a paintbrush used by the owl-woman to paint her birds. It appears that the stringed paintbrush is generated by music from the violin, which is a necessary provision of the creation process. Like in Harmony and The Flutist, music plays a transcendent role as a channel in creative formation and vision.

The magnifying glass holds a shape of a triangle, akin to the classical symbols of the four elements fire, water, air, and earth. The fire symbol is an upright triangle, while the water symbol is inverted. The air symbol is also upright but with a horizontal line within the triangle, and the earth symbol is inverted and also has a horizontal line (fig. 72). The four elements derived from

Aristotle’s theory that matter is formed by these elements, an idea favored by most alchemists.

When combined, the symbols of the four elements become what is known as the Seal of

Solomon, a pictogram that appeared in alchemical documents (Fabbrizzi 1502; fig. 73).

Fig. 72. The Four Elements Symbols. “Communicating about Matter with Symbols: Evolving from Alchemy to Chemistry,” Tenney L. Davis. Journal of Chemical Education, 2008; 1502.

Fig. 73. Seal of Solomon Symbol. “Communicating about Matter with Symbols: Evolving from Alchemy to Chemistry,” Tenney L. Davis. Journal of Chemical Education, 2008; 1502.

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An example of the four symbols and the Seal of Solomon in alchemical text is an illustration from a compilation manuscript called Museum Hermeticum Reformatum et

Amplificatum, 1678. In this, a figure in the center holds the Seal of Solomon, which is, according to Tenney L. Davis in “Pictorial Representations of Alchemical Theory,” a representation of wisdom and also the four Aristotelian elements (75; fig. 74). Futhermore, Davis suggests that the

Seal of Solomon in the illustration is also perceived as a metaphor of the philosopher’s stone. He explains the figure to the left and right of the seal each hold a triangle symbol, which, when combined, make up the seal. The figure on the left holds an upright triangle, which represents fire, the sun, and the positive sign of sulfur, while the figure on the right holds an inverted triangle, representing water, the moon, and the negative sign of mercury. In alchemy, sulfur and mercury were additions to the four elements and were believed to be the ultimate constituents in making the philosopher’s stone. As mentioned in Chapter 5, this notion was theorized by Arabic alchemist Jābir ibn Hayyān and was a prominent belief among alchemists of the medieval and

Renaissance eras.

Fig. 74. Chemical and Alchemical Diagram, Museum Hermeticum Reformatum et Amplificatum, 1678. “Communicating about Matter with Symbols: Evolving from Alchemy to Chemistry,” Tenney L. Davis. Journal of Chemical Education, 2008; 75.

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The triangular magnifying glass in Creation of Birds also indicates Varo’s attraction to science and evokes a symbol of recognition to the physicist, astronomer, and mathematician

Isaac Newton (1643–1727). Kaplan notes that the lens is comparable to a triangular prism associated with Newton: “[Varo] chose a triangular magnifier, like the triangular prism that

Newton, the master scientist, had used to separate light into the colors of the spectrum” (181). A popular theory of Newton’s was the separation and refraction of light through a triangular prism

(a glass object with a triangular base and rectangular sides). Newton’s discovery was that if a white light passes through a prism, the light separates into colors of a spectrum, like a rainbow.

Visually, the lens being held by the owl-woman is to some extent comparable to Newton’s idea, since Varo’s prism-like lens is shown capturing a beam of white light passing through the lens, splitting into three beams of light. In contrast, the three beams of light are not shown in different colors, but they do show the separation of light.

The moon, which supplies the magnifying lens with light, specifies magical and alchemical meanings. It stands for a feminine force and guidance in the owl-woman’s process of creation. The moon as a feminine symbol partly derives from an astrological notion of the lunar cycle and its correspondence with the menstrual cycle (Fontana 120), both of them rhythmic and cyclical. In addition, the moon is linked to a large number of mythological goddesses, such as the

Roman Luna and Diana, Greek Artemis and Hecate, and Egyptian Isis. Such goddesses are commonly depicted as composers of fate and destinies and as controllers of atmospheric components such as tides, rainfall, and the weather (Fontana 120). These depictions correspond with the belief that the moon had the ability to take part in controlling and determining such atmospheric conditions, noticed early of the tides by the Greeks in the fourth century BC and later a common thought in the Middle Ages (Sarton 497).

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In alchemy, the moon was also understood as a feminine entity, as in the notion of the marriage of opposites (also known as the alchemical stage of conjunction, or chemical wedding) between the moon and the sun, which was considered masculine. Alchemical depictions of the moon typically include an image of a female alongside an image of a male and the sun. For example, the illustration Rebis from Theoria Philosophiae Hermeticae, 1617, by Heinrich

Nollius (1590–1630) shows the moon and female on the right and the sun and male on the left

(fig. 75).

Fig. 75. Heinrich Nollisu, Rebis from Theoria Philosophiae Hermeticae, 1617. Wikipedia.org.

The moon also represents certain elements that pertain to the Great Work. As referenced in Chapter 5, numerous metals were believed to be significant in the alchemical process and were paired with the classical planets, as alchemists thought that the planets influenced the natural making of metals and the momentum of the work. The sun was paired with gold and the moon with silver, a prized metal that some alchemists sought to achieve aside from gold.

Although the moon in Creation of Birds does not show the alchemical opposing element

129 of the sun or a male figure, it does pair the moon with the feminine through the owl-woman.

Remedios Varo also demonstrates the woman-moon duo in two of her other paintings: Celestial

Pablum, 1958, and To Be Reborn, 1960. Celestial Pablum portrays a woman feeding star dust to a caged crescent moon, which may be said to convey the emotions of confinement to the conventional roles of a woman nurturer (Kaplan 160; fig. 76). To Be Reborn shows an escape from such imprisonment with a partly naked woman breaking through a wall, elated to find a reflection of a crescent moon inside a silver chalice (fig. 77). Kaplan suggests that the magnetic powers of the moon have pulled this woman forth in achieving her escape (166).

Fig. 76. Remedios Varo, Celestial Pablum, 1958. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 101.

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Fig. 77. Remedios Varo, To Be Reborn, 1960. Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo, Janet A. Kaplan. Abbeville, 2000; print; 166.

Another item of focus in Creation of Birds that embeds symbolism of magic and alchemy are the double vases hung on the back-corner wall. A translucent flow of liquid pours from one vase to another. The back and forth movement and arched appearance of the liquid prompts the circulation of water flowing out of a fountain. In alchemy, a known depiction involving the flow of water is the alchemical fountain. The fountain is known to represent mercury (quicksilver), a primary factor of transmutation and, as Battistini notes, in alchemy, mercury is considered regenerative and as having healing powers comparable to the “fountain of youth” of medieval tradition (336). This notion of regenerative mercury is usually depicted in alchemical illustrations as a fountain with three spouts of flowing water, sometimes including a group of people bathing in the fountain.

While there is only one passage of water in Varo’s Creation of Birds, as opposed to three like the alchemical fountain, the cyclical motion and feeding of water from one vase to another appoints a similar view of regeneration and renewal. In addition, as one of the four classical elements and due to its inherent nature as a vital life-source, water is often viewed as a symbol of

131 life. Zosimos of Panopolis said, “Without the Divine water, nothing exists” (qtd. from Evola 30).

Visible in Creation of Birds is the generating of life, done by the owl-woman.

The dual alchemical vessel shown in Creation of Birds also contributes in the generating of life. The two egg-shaped alembics supply the paint that make up the four birds; the source of the paint appears to come from the sky, collecting materials from outside of a window.

Alchemical distillation is apparent and performed with the collected materials through the double alembics, producing paint in the colors of red, blue, and yellow.

The type of alembic Varo illustrates is similar to apparatus illustrations found in distillation books of the sixteenth century. Varo’s dual alembic shows one egg-shaped vessel upright and the other stacked above it in an inverted position. This style of alembic is similar to those drawn by Swiss physician and naturalist of the Renaissance, Conrad Gesner (1516–1965).

For example, one of Gesner’s drawings of a distillation piece shows two vase-like objects stacked in an upright and inverted position (fig. 78). This style of apparatus reoccurs in another of Gesner’s illustrations; however, it is positioned on its side rather than upright (fig. 79). The similarities between Varo’s dual alembic and Gesner’s show that she may have examined his drawings at some point in her alchemy studies.

Fig. 78. Conrad Gesner, Double Alchemical Vessel, c. 1560. Alchemywebsite.com.

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Fig. 79. Conrad Gesner, Double Alchemical Vessel on Side, c. 1560. Alchemywebiste.com.

The extended long tube attached to the double alembic in Creation of Birds also mirrors illustrations found in a distillation book, Dell'elixir vitae (Elixir Vitae), 1624. There are two illustrations from Elixir Vitae that have the same shape and look as Varo’s, with a long, thin tube that extends from the alembic. One drawing in Elixir Vitae shows a curvy and slender tube (fig.

80) and the other a zigzag tube descending from an alembic (fig. 81). In Varo’s version, the extended tube has a maze-like shape, but instead of curves and zigzags, it partly holds the shape of a square (fig. 82). In addition, instead of descending, the tube is ascending toward the night sky. Nonetheless, it bears a keen resemblance to the long tubes founded in Elixir Vitae and again demonstrates how Varo most likely studied distillation books of the sixteenth century.

Fig. 80. Alembic Illustration 1, Elixir Vitae. Archive.org.

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Fig. 81. Alembic Illustration 2, Elixir Vitae. Archive.org.

Fig. 82. Alembic, Creation of Birds. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 105.

The characteristics of the dual alembic in Creation of Birds recur in three of Varo’s other works. In Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle, 1961, a similar double vessel device is shown with many thin wavy strings attached to it (fig. 83). In Celestial Pablum, 1958, the device collecting star material also has a long, thin, and edged-shape tube similar to that in Creation of Birds.

Further, in Discovery of Mutant Geologists, 1961, Varo again chooses the long and thin look for the surveyor equipment (fig. 84). Although there are no curves or maze-like shapes, the use of extension and elongation of the device is highly similar.

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Fig. 83. Remedios Varo, Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle, 1961. Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo, Janet A. Kaplan. Abbeville, 2000; print; 21.

Fig. 84. Remedios Varo, Discovery of Mutant Geologists, 1961. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 107.

The last objects to analyze in Creation of Birds in connection with magic and alchemy are the four birds. Their significance lies within the number itself, which is perhaps symbolic of the four elements. In antiquity, the number four was also viewed as magical and mysterious by

135 the Pythagoreans, because four is the first square (22; Laroche 570). The number four is also the sum of the first four numbers that create the tetractys pattern, which forms a design of four rows in the shape of a triangle, a sacred Pythagorean design that was thought to represent the four elements earth, fire, air, and water (Laroche 570; fig. 85). In Creation of Birds, it is clear that there are four birds: three are in flight and one is perched on the ground. The connection that these four birds symbolize the four elements is proper because the four elements are an important principal in the ideology of esoteric discipline.

Fig. 85. The Tetractys formation. Wikipedia.org.

Another related connection of the four birds pertains to alchemy and the four phases of alchemical work. As discussed in Chapter 5, the four basic phases of alchemy are nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo, which can be translated as the blackening, cleansing, pure, and final stages of the Work. The inclusion of four birds in Varo’s painting not only prompts the four alchemical stages but also shows a narrative of attaining the philosopher’s stone. To emphasize the final stage, rubedo, by which the philosopher’s stone is achieved, Varo’s owl-woman- alchemist character has succeeded in her quest of creation. Altogether, the birds within this painting can be viewed as a metaphor of the philosopher’s stone, as they are the product of the alchemist’s or owl-woman’s true quest.

Creation of Birds shows Varo’s quintessential vision of alchemy and the alchemist-

136 magician behind the Great Work. She also recognizes the subjects of science, nature, and femininity, all of which take part in the art of alchemy. By fusing allegorical representations,

Varo made this painting one of her most awe-inspiring masterpieces.

Still Life Reviving

In 1963, Varo created her last artwork, Still Life Reviving. Unique and partly contrasting her other mature works, Still Life Reviving shows no human or hybrid figures as subject matters.

Instead, it is a still life containing mostly inanimate objects displayed within a theatrical scene.

This painting readily demonstrates Varo’s strong affection for and belief in the spirit of nature and cosmic forces. As her last work, it is an ultimate reflection of her transcendental journey.

Still Life Reviving is a 43 ¼ inch by 31 ½ inch oil on canvas painting (fig. 86). It pictures a round table covered in cloth, with a large candle in the center. A setting of eight plates are caught in a whirlwind formation, and hovering above them are various fruits, such as apples, pomegranates, and strawberries; some are whole and some partly bursting in half. The fruits float on a luminous spiral, which appears to be of dust or celestial material. Above the fruits are three flying insects, painted in the color of soft blue. A small patch of plants and roots are on the floor to the left and right of the table.

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Fig. 86. Remedios Varo, Still Life Reviving, 1963. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 111.

Still Life Reviving has influences of medieval, Gothic, and Renaissance architecture.

Similar to Harmony and Creation of Birds, arch windows and doorways are present. Slightly contrasting are the type of arches; instead of a semi-circle arch, they taper to a soft point. Pointed arches are one of the main characteristics of Gothic art, a period that emerged in Northern France in the twelfth century and continued into the late fourteenth century. Other attributes of Gothic

138 art include intricate designs, stone structures, and the use of large stained glass. Varo’s pointed arch doorways throughout this piece shows that Gothic architecture was an influential component in her art.

Another noticeable feature is that the room is a roundly shaped geometrical structure, not rectangular as in Harmony and Creation of Birds. This can be observed in Varo’s illustration of the floor by using a decagonal (ten-sided) pattern. For this reason, the room looks like a round tower similar to those of the medieval era commonly attached to castles. These towers are typically known as fortified towers or keeps, purposely built as a form of protection against attacks from outsiders, for example, by utilizing a tower’s extreme height to scout enemies from afar.

Varo’s decagonal tower-style room partly resembles an Italian medieval structure, Castel del Monte, Apulia, c. thirteenth century, built by Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II (1194–1250) as one of his fortifications (Coroneo). Constructed with an octagonal design, it consists of a large courtyard and eight towers on each corner, also octagonal in form (fig. 87). It has pointed arches within the walls and doorways, including some semi-arched and circular windows. Varo’s layout is decagonal as opposed to octagonal, but its likeness lies within the use of a geometrical design and the arches (fig. 88).

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Fig. 87. Castel del Monte, c. Thirteenth century. Wikipedia.org.

Fig. 88. Castel del Monte, Interior, octagonal courtyard. Italiaparchi.it.

Varo’s collection of works often demonstrates the use of geometrical structures similar to such medieval towers. As examples, aside from Still Life Reviving, the stone and fossil structure in The Flutist is octagonal, as are the room in Unexpected Visit, 1958 (fig. 89) and the tower in

Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle. These examples not only show Varo’s interest in medieval buildings and towers, they also convey the drafting knowledge and skills she learned as a young girl from her father. This is especially seen in The Flutist, of which the left part of the tower is displayed in a blueprint style, with a drawing of white lines outlining the structure.

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Fig. 89. Remedios Varo, Unexpected Visit, 1958. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 67.

Apart from the influence in medieval, Gothic, and Renaissance architecture, certain objects, such as the fruits and the translucent spiral in Still Life Reviving, resemble those of some

Renaissance art, and they bear symbolism associated with magic and alchemy. Varo’s inclusion of fruits in this painting is a trait widely seen among Renaissance works. According to Jennifer

Meagher in “Food and Drink in European Painting, 1400–1800,” the practice of depicting foods such as fruits dates back to the literature and art of ancient Greece and Rome. Since the

Renaissance era was influenced by the culture of antiquity and by the natural world, depictions of fruits, wine, flora, and fauna sprung up among artworks both secular and non-secular

(Meagher). The allegorical style of works such as those of Bosch often include fruits as part of the subject matter. This is noticeable in Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights, (fig. 27) especially the central panel, in which apples, strawberries, raspberries, and cherries are widely visible.

Often, fruits in art carry some form of symbolism, and the subject is extensive. To correlate the fruits shown in Still Life Reviving with mystical symbolism, one must name the

141 fruits Varo illustrates. Recognizable in this painting are apples, strawberries, and pomegranates, all of which share the symbolic trait of fertility. In Greek mythology, the apple and pomegranate as symbols of fertility are associated with Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love and fertility. The apple as one of Aphrodite’s symbols derives from the narrative that she gave three golden apples to Hippomenes, the husband of the mythological huntress Atalanta (Foster 41). The pomegranate as a symbol of fertility is also related to Aphrodite, alongside the Roman goddess of love and fertility, Venus, because the fruit bears many seeds calling for procreation and hence fertility

(Meagher).

The apple and pomegranate also carry biblical symbolism. For instance, the apple is connected with Adam and Eve and the story in Genesis 3:1-5 of their disobedience and expulsion from the Garden of Eden because they ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of

Knowledge. For this reason, the apple often symbolizes sin or evil if depicted in the hands of

Adam or Eve but as salvation if next to Christ or the Virgin Mary (Ross 97). The pomegranate in association with biblical meaning may also symbolize the blood of Christ, due to the fruit’s vibrant red color (Ross 97), as well as represent the Virgin Mary. In addition, if the pomegranate’s seeds are shown bursting, it signifies fertility and the resurrection of Christ

(Andrews 183).

The strawberry and its symbolism of fertility links to Norse mythology and the fertility goddess Frigga. Her narrative in Norse myth involves transporting the souls of dead children inside strawberries to Valhalla, a paradisiacal location in the legendary world of Asgard.

Strawberries were a sacred fruit of Frigga and later, when Europe was Christianized, of the

Virgin Mary (Andrews 218). In Greek and Roman myth, the strawberry was associated with love and the goddess Venus because of its bright red color and heart shaped form.

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Based on the various interpretations of apples, pomegranates, and strawberries, Varo’s

Still Life Reviving is emblematic of both fertility and resurrection. It is apparent that the cycle of life and nature is a dominant theme of this painting by the bursting pomegranates and their fallen seeds, which germinate and produce new plant life, signifying resurrection. In “The Creative

Woman and the Female Quest: The Paintings of Remedios Varo,” Estella Lauter references the notion of the cycle of life by the fruits’ display, and she also ponders the view of resurrection

(120). In furtherance of resurrection, the literal Spanish translation for the title of this work is

“dead nature being revived” (naturaleza muerta is the idiom for “still life”; Kaplan 183). The fecundity represented by the fruits and the performance of rejuvenated plant life show Varo’s vision of the cycles of the natural world. As Kaplan writes, “The possibilities of regeneration are limitless, that out of destruction can come new life and growth” (183).

Varo’s allegorical inclusion of fruits and the suggestive symbolism of fertility in Still Life

Reviving is comparable to Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. In Bosch’s central panel, among the plethora of fruits shown are apples, pomegranates, and strawberries, the same fruits Varo includes in her painting. In the article “Bosch’s Garden of Delights: A Theological Rebus” by

Elena Calas, a description of the strawberries in Bosch’s central panel notes fertility as a theme in the interaction between the naked figures and strawberries. Calas writes, “Within the bloom, the young lover has placed his hand on the belly of his bride under the aegis of a large seed- covered strawberry. We find variations on the theme of fertility elsewhere in the panel, in a group of standing figures is a beguine whose swollen belly proclaims her fruitfulness—the fruit of the womb” (192; fig. 90). However, contrasting with Bosch’s painting, Varo’s piece does not include the interaction of humans; instead, the fruits are a display of their own.

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Fig. 90. Detail of Strawberry, Garden of Earthly Delights. Wikipedia.org.

The spiral bed on which the floating fruits lie displays a cosmic scenery. It resembles the image of the solar system, with the spiral as the orbit, the fruits as the planets, and the candle as the sun. This cosmic depiction of the universe also appears in some Renaissance works.

However, it is to note that some cosmic depictions from the medieval and Renaissance eras were perceived as celestial orbs or spheres rather than the solar system, as the contemporary view of the solar system was not fully understood during that time. A significant Renaissance scholar who paved the way for the current model of the solar system was Italian astronomer and mathematician Nicolaus Copernicus (1473–1543), who theorized that the sun was the center of the universe, referred to as heliocentrism. Prior to this idea, most believed earth was the center of the universe, an idea known as geocentrism, derived from the Greeks (Fisher and Erickson 616).

Nonetheless, the spiral shown in Still Life Reviving suggests orbital forces and celestial bodies within the universe and closely resembles two Renaissance works which show such celestial spheres. These works are two engravings from the book Harmonia Macrocosmica,

1660, written by Andreas Cellarius (1596–1665; figs. 91 and 92). Both illustrations are modeled after Copernicus’ theory, showing concentric circles as the orbit and picturing the sun as the central body in the colors of orange and yellow. Alongside the concentric circles are small spheres representative of the planets and the moon. Varo’s version of the universe also follows

144 the Copernican theory, but it is allegorical, with the candle at the center as the sun, the luminous spiral dust as the orbit, and the fruits as the planets.

Fig. 91. Engraving 1 of Copernicus theory, Harmonia Macrocosmica, 1660. Wikipedia.org.

Fig. 92. Engraving 2 of Copernicus theory, Harmonia Macrocosmica, 1660. Commons.wikimedia.org.

Figuratively, the spiral design in Still Life Reviving is comparable once again with the notion of journey, a frequent theme embodied in Varo’s works. The luminous concentric spiral resembles a labyrinth, circular in form with several lines or paths leading toward a central

145 location. Battistini refers to labyrinths as a symbol of the inner journey into one’s own unconscious (261). The concept of a labyrinth involves a maze in which the passages are complex; thus, it is a challenge to find the correct path or exit. However, finding it can also be victorious. Like the pathways of a labyrinth, one’s inner journey can be complicated, but once the journey is completed, one becomes enriched with enlightenment.

Another of Varo’s works representing a labyrinth-like theme is a painting created a year before Still Life Reviving, titled Spiral Transit, 1962 (fig. 93). Here, a medieval/Renaissance structure is shaped like a spiral and sits on a body of water; an array of boats floats along the spiral’s path, navigating toward the center, where a large tower stands. Both the spiral structure and the boats are a metaphor for the notion of journey, especially an alchemical journey. Kaplan comments that these craft are embarking on a spiritual voyage, “tracing the spiral of unfolding consciousness in egg-shaped boats that resemble the vessels in which the alchemical transformation takes place” (169). As discussed in Chapter 5, a ship as a metaphor of an alchemical journey is seen in Expedition of the Argonauts, in which the expedition serves as a spiritual quest in finding the elixir and also represents the various stages of the alchemical work.

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Fig. 93. Remedios Varo, Spiral Transit, 1962. The Magic of Remedios Varo, Luis-Martín Lozano. Giles, 2006; print; 88.

Apropos of an alchemical journey, both Spiral Transit and Still Life Reviving closely resemble a Renaissance alchemical drawing of the Lapis Sanctuary, 1674 (fig. 94), which shows a garden in the shape of a spiral with a tower at the center, believed to hold the philosopher’s stone (Kaplan 169). For Still Life Reviving, the candle is the focal point and can perhaps be interpreted as the elixir or philosopher’s stone, the pathways of the spiral navigating toward the flame. Moreover, the flame of the candle is comparable to an elixir and its attributes of immortal qualities, since the candle is emitting the energy that nourishes the endless cycle of life shown among the fruits.

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Fig. 94. Lapis Sanctuary, 1674. Unexpected Journeys: The Art and Life of Remedios Varo, Janet A. Kaplan. Abbeville, 2000; print; 170.

Last, the candle’s centered position, and the flame it emits in Varo’s “solar system,” calls to mind the sun and its connections with alchemy. As mentioned in Chapter 5 regarding the sun and its symbolism in Dürer’s Melencolia I, the sun is one of the most important alchemical symbols; it represents gold, sulfur, and the masculine principle, all of which are paramount within the art of alchemy. Varo’s candle or sun in Still Life Reviving is central because without it, life cannot regenerate.

Remedios Varo died shortly after the completion of Still Life Reviving. As an allegorical piece that characterizes the cycle of life, regeneration, and resurrection, this painting is relevant as her last work. As death had concluded her journey in this life, perhaps a rebirth of another life awaited from beyond. A beyond in which Varo profoundly believed.

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CHAPTER 7

CONCLUSION

Remedios Varo embodied the culture and images of Renaissance magic and alchemy within her art. She not only conveyed these subjects in her paintings, she believed in them. As with some Renaissance artists, Varo communicated her beliefs through allegorical, visionary images of esoteric themes and the natural world. Like most Surrealists of her time, the portrayal of such imaginative subjects derived from her intention to explore one’s inner psyche through the realm of dreams and the unconscious.

As a female Surrealist, Varo’s artistic career peaked at a time when women were breaking away from the conventional lifestyle; thus, allowing Varo to diversify her creative opportunities. An considerable opportunities, such as an offer to paint a mural on a new medical center in Mexico City elevated Varo’s artistic status, as well as all female creatives, because during the 1920s to 1940s the mural scene in Mexico was primarily dominated by male artists.

Despite Varo being unable to execute the mural because of her apprehensive nature, the invitation to create a mural as a female artist was a profound and significant event of that time.

Varo’s residency in Mexico was a result of the dangers of World War II in Europe. The ramifications of the Nazi occupation of France and their discrimination against many European artists and Jewish individuals throughout Europe led to her imprisonment and exile. Although the experience was emotionally detrimental for Varo, it offered her the chance to re-establish herself and to begin a new life in Mexico. This new life was a rebirth for Varo’s artistic domain both physically and spiritually. The move also fueled her art and esoteric ideology and initiated new friendships, particularly with other emigrant artists of the mid-1940s in Mexico. Leonora

Carrington, Varo’s Surrealist companion in hermetic beliefs and confidant, was influential and a

149 close friend. Out of such changes and friendships, Remedios Varo discovered an environment that allowed her to manifest fully and to undergo an artistic transformation.

As a result of Varo’s transformation, her beliefs in magic and alchemy, and her fascination with nature and science were the true facets of her works. Furthermore, as an admirer of European culture, she included elements of medieval and Renaissance art, architecture, and style. By immersing in her work these themes and subject matters with mystical values, such as metamorphic creatures, owls, fruits, musical instruments, crystals, and items related to cosmic and supernatural entities, Varo’s iconography emphasizes the notion of magical forces and the art of alchemy; overall, making her work unique among Surrealists.

In addition, as often seen in the works of women Surrealists, Varo intertwines mystical elements in an autobiographical manner, unveiling a feminine perspective on her own reality. As demonstrated in Harmony and Creation of Birds, she creates metamorphic, androgynous-like figures in a self-portrait style, endowing them with similar physical and facial features to herself.

Moreover, these figures are frequently portrayed as characters of mastery and creation, such as magicians, alchemists, scientists, or artists. Regarding the feminine, Varo displays this via the inclusion of objects symbolic of female traits, such as the seashells in Harmony, the moon in

Creation of Birds, and the apples, pomegranates, and strawberries in Still Live Reviving. Varo’s combination of narratives and hermetic notions of magic and alchemy are true reflections of her experiences, beliefs, and artistic individualism.

Magic, alchemy, and Renaissance art are blended into Varo’s work. Through iconography analysis and observing the visual compositions of her paintings and some

Renaissance works (including Renaissance literature), the connection between Renaissance hermetic themes and Varo’s work is apparent. Harmony centers on the belief of a magician and

150 an interconnectedness between the universe, order, and one’s inner truths. Varo communicates these ideas by depicting a musical ensemble, with a figure arranging mystical items of crystals, rocks, shells, and plants on a music score, and receiving help from nonphysical forces, or from what Varo perceives as chance or from “beyond.” Music is a channel between the universe and reality and is a magical thread that connects these two realms in a harmonious manner, emblematic of one’s spiritual truths. In this respect, Varo’s work is much like the views in the book De vita libri tres (Three Books on Life) by Renaissance humanist Marsilio Ficino, in which he emphasizes the interrelatedness between music, cosmic forces, and the soul. Furthermore,

Harmony reflects Varo’s faith in the spirit and magic of inanimate objects, as she pictures items with mystical symbolism as being central between the magician, music, and cosmic entities.

A prominent theme in Creation of Birds is the art of alchemy. Varo portrays an alchemist character as a ‘wise’ metamorphic owl-woman set amid an operation of producing birds or, perhaps, the philosopher’s stone. There are alchemical apparatuses that closely mimic diagrams of alchemy tools from sixteenth-century distillation books such as Dell'elixir vitae. In addition to the topic of alchemy, Varo incorporates the feminine, nature, and science. A glimpse of Isaac

Newton and his prism theory on light refraction is mentioned in Chapter 6 when analyzing

Creation of Birds in the triangle symbol held by the owl-woman, indicating Varo’s interest in the sciences. The triangle further evokes Aristotelian views and symbolism related to the four elements: fire, earth, water, and air, and their close connections with the art of alchemy.

Moreover, the four birds in Varo’s painting are compared to the four elements and the four basic phases of alchemical distillation, furthering the dominant theme of alchemy in Creation of Birds.

In addition to the topic of alchemy, Creation of Birds was compared to various paintings of Hieronymus Bosch. For instance, the owl-woman character takes on a metamorphic shape

151 comparable to Bosch’s half bird-half human characters in Garden of Earthly Delights and

Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony. Bosch frequently embedded various types of owls within his paintings, a trait also seen in many of Varo’s work. The similarities in artistic style and subject matter between Varo and Bosch are most apparent in Creation of Birds.

Varo’s Still Life Reviving is her final completed painting before her death in 1963. This painting reveals her affection for nature, the natural cycles of life, and the cosmos. Varo depicts a variety of floating fruits among a spiral formation circling around a lit candle; an image that resembles the solar system. Allegorically, Varo depicts the fruits as the planets and moons, the spiral as orbits, and the candle as the sun. In Chapter 6, a comparison of two Renaissance engravings from the book Harmonia Macrocosmica (figs. 49 and 50) has been made with Varo’s

Still Life Reviving, revealing similarities in the design of a macrocosm linked to Copernicus’ heliocentrism theory. The likeness of these two engravings and Varo’s Still Life Reviving indicates her profound interest in the cosmos, as well as evoking significant Renaissance scientific discoveries of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

In Still Life Reviving, Varo conveys also the cycle of life by picturing fallen seeds from a burst fruit. The seeds regenerate, and new plants are visible on the ground, representing the cyclic motions of nature. A theme of rebirth, renewal, and resurrection interconnects Varo’s subjects and their symbolism. The fruits (apples, pomegranates, and strawberries) all share the symbolic trait of fertility, signifying fecundity and procreation. Bosch’s fruits in the central panel of Garden of Earthly Delights have been linked with Varo’s strawberries and the theme of fertility, further suggesting how Bosch was an influential figure in Varo’s work. As her final completed painting is emblematic of nature and macrocosms, Still Life Reviving is the ultimate reflection of Varo’s life and her spiritual and artistic journey.

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Remedios Varo’s life and artistic career were short-lived. Dying at the age of 54, her prolific works truly blossomed during the last ten years of her life, fully embodied with surrealistic expressions and her belief in magic, alchemy, nature, and science. Although her artistic journey ended unexpectedly, Varo and the spirit of her art remain extraordinary among

Surrealism, female Surrealists, and the art of today.

153

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