P H A N Ê S JOURNAL FOR JUNG HISTORY

Vol 3 • 2020 Mission Statement Phanês: Journal for Jung History (ISSN 2631-6463, online; ISSN 2631-6455, printed) is an annual, peer-reviewed, open-access journal, dedicated to publishing high quality, scholarly articles related to the life and work of C.G. Jung and the wider history of analytical or complex psychology. Phanês publishes original articles that address these topics from a critical perspective. Contributions are accepted in English, French, German and Italian.

Editorial Board Ernst Falzeder (University College London), Martin Liebscher (University College London), Christine Maillard (University of Strasbourg), Sonu Shamdasani (University College London).

Editorial Team Managing Editor: Gaia Domenici (University College London). Editors: Alessio De Fiori (University of Strasbourg), Matei Iagher (University College London), Armelle Line Peltier (University of Strasbourg—University of Lorraine), Tommaso Priviero (University College London), Florent Serina (University of Strasbourg, Institut des Humanités en Médecine—CHUV, University of Lausanne), Christopher Wagner (University College London), Dangwei Zhou (University College London).

Manuscript Submission Information The journal only accepts original, completed manuscripts that are not under review by any other journal or publication. All submissions must be sent electronically to [email protected]. Manuscripts should be submitted as ‘.doc’ files, double spaced and no longer than 10,000 words including references. An abstract of no more than 150 words must be included with the submission. As submissions are blind reviewed, the author’s name, institutional affiliation, word count and the title of the paper should be included on a separate title page. The editors will aim to communicate a decision to the authors as quickly as possible, within three months of submission.

Book Review Submission Information The journal will consider unsolicited book reviews of 800-1000 words on topics that are consistent with the Mission Statement. All reviews should be submitted not more than three months after receipt of the book. The editors also welcome suggestions of books for review. Prospective reviewers should contact Matei Iagher at [email protected].

Contact All other enquiries should be directed to the Managing Editor, Gaia Domenici, at [email protected]. Online Version ISSN 2631-6463 Copyright © The Authors, under Creative Common Attribution—NonCommercial—No Derivatives licence (CC BY-NC-ND) to Phanês Press Ltd, 2020.

Printed Version ISSN 2631-6455 Copyright © The Authors, under exclusive licence to Phanês Press Ltd, 2020. Apart from dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or review, and only as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the Publishers. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be directed to Phanês.

Illustrations Copyright Diane Finiello Zervas. ‘From the Instinctual to the Cosmic: Jung’s Exploration of Colour in The Red Book, 1915-1929/30’. Figs. 1-2, 4-7, 9. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved. Fig. 3. Jungʼs Astrological Glyphs. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Fig. 8. Central Crossing, Mausoleum Galla Placidia, Ravenna (Italy). Free download from: https://www.cepolina.com.

Ronald Huggins. ‘What really happened in Ravenna? C.G. Jung and Toni Wolff’s Mosaic Vision‘. Figs. 1-11. © Ronald Huggins.

Christian Gaillard. ‘À propos du Libro dei sogni de Federico Fellini. Crash et deuil sur la page. Un curieux problème de datation’. Ill.1-2, courtesy Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma, Sion. Ill. 3-11, courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini. Ill. 12, courtesy Vides produzione/Rai Uno/Collection Christophel/ArenaPAL.

Disclaimer The authors, editors and publisher will not accept any legal responsibility for any errors or omissions that may be made in this publication. The publisher makes no warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein. Print on demand options available at: https://phanes.live. Phanês Press is also a member of CrossRef (https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes). PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020

CONTENTS

Foreword i

Articles When the Great Mother Met the Harlequin: Jung and Neumann on Art, 1 Archetypes and The Spirit Of The Times Martin Liebscher From the Instinctual to the Cosmic: Jung’s Exploration of Colour in The 25 Red Book, 1915-1929/30 Diane Finiello Zervas What really happened in Ravenna? C.G. Jung and Toni Wolff’s Mosaic 76 Vision Ronald Huggins À propos du Libro dei sogni de Federico Fellini. Crash et deuil sur la 116 page. Un curieux problème de datation Christian Gaillard

Book Reviews The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. 163 Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York / London: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019 Reviewed by Gaia Domenici Craig E. Stephenson. Ages of Anxiety: Jung’s Types as Inspiration for 168 Poetry, Music, and Dance. New Orleans, Louisiana, USA: Spring Journal Books, 2016 Reviewed by Steven Herrmann C. G. Jung. Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process: Notes of C.G. 171 Jung’s Seminars on Wolfgang Pauli’s Dreams. Edited by Suzanne Gieser. Princeton University Press, 2019. Reviewed by Christopher Wagner Gaia Domenici. Jung’s Nietzsche: Zarathustra, The Red Book, and 176 ‘Visionary Works’. With a Foreword by Sonu Shamdasani. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019 Reviewed by Tommaso Priviero On Theology & Psychology. The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and Adolf 180 Keller. Edited by Marianne Jehle-Wildberger. Translated by Heather McCartney with John Peck. Philemon Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press 2020 Reviewed by Martin Liebscher

https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes.2020 FOREWORD

hanês will soon be entering its fourth year of existence and, for the first time, we have decided to take a thematic approach. Following the publication of C. G. Jung’s Liber Novus, the exhibitions that have been held exhibiting Liber Novus Ptogether with some of Jung’s visual works (Rubin Museum, New York, Hammer Museum, Los Angeles, Library of Congress, Washington D.C., Rietberg Museum, Zurich, Musee Guimet, Paris, Bodmer Museum, Geneva and the Venice Biennale), and the more recent appearance of the Foundation’s volume on The Art of C. G. Jung (2019), we wanted to further explore and revisit in an original way the theme of the relationship between analytical (or complex) psychology and artistic creativity. To this end, Phanês 3 (2020), brings together four different approaches to our given theme: those of a historian, an art historian, a theologian, and a psychoanalyst (the last one in French). Phanês thus wishes to mark once again its commitment to welcoming contributions from scholars with diverse backgrounds and in languages other than English—granted Jung is handled from a rigorous, historical perspective. First, Martin Liebscher (UCL, Department of German), in ‘When the Great Mother Met the Harlequin: Jung and Neumann on Art, Archetypes and The Spirit Of The Times,’ explores Jung’s ambivalent relationship with Modernism, and tries to answer the question as to why, differently from Jung, Erich Neumann was able to welcome Modernism wholeheartedly. The second article, ‘From the Instinctual to the Cosmic: Jung’s Exploration of Colour in The Red Book, 1915-1929/30’ by Diane Finiello Zervas (IGAP), is entirely dedicated to Jung’s exploration of, and reflection upon colour while going through his Red Book experience. As the paper shows both through a historical analysis and via several reproductions of images from The Red Book, such exploration is crucial in shaping Jung’s later colour symbolism, as it appears in his published works. In ‘What really happened in Ravenna? C.G. Jung and Toni Wolff’s Mosaic Vision’, Ronald Huggins (Th.D, formerly professor of New Testament and Greek at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Kansas City, Missouri, and professor of Historical and Theological Studies at Salt Lake Theological Seminary, Salt Lake City, Utah) reconstructs the famous Ravenna episode, and shows how what Jung claimed to have seen there was actually real, albeit mis-recalled and misinterpreted. The article is also accompanied by pictures taken by the author, aimed at conducting the reader in this reconstruction of the notorious episode. The fourth article, ‘À propos du Libro dei sogni de Federico Fellini.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 ii

Crash et deuil sur la page. Un curieux problème de datation’, by Christian Gaillard (Société Française de Psychologie Analytique, former president of the International Association for Analytical Psychology, and former professor at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris), analyses the Italian filmmaker’s Libro dei sogni (Book of Dreams) and brings out fascinating connections with Jung’s Red Book. Once again, the article is beautifully illustrated with reproductions from Libro dei sogni and with other visual elements. As a relatively new intellectual sub-discipline, the scope, the methods, the very definition of Jung History continue to grow. As editors of Phanês, we think that the thematic approach is perhaps the best way to reflect on the plurivalent relationships between psychology, history, and the meaning of Jung’s legacy that are at the core of the journal’s mission. The fact that Jung’s theories, ideas and methods continue to be relevant today is abundantly clear from the most cursory examination of the course of world events, from the destruction of the environment to the global pandemic and the responses generated by these events. As we plot a course forward through the storms, it becomes ever more important to think about our own conceptual tools and about where they come from and how they have arrived here. Our hope is that Jung History can bring something of value to our collective introspection. Inspired by the current issue, in the coming years we will continue to ponder issues in Jung History in thematic ways. We also plan on expanding the purview of Phanês so as to include (in addition to our regular harvest of articles and book reviews) also unpublished archival documents such as interviews, letters or manuscripts, either authored by Jung himself, or by other associated analysts, friends, etc. We would also like to take this opportunity to thank all of you, our readers, who have been with us on our journey so far, and we hope that not only will you continue to read the journal, but that you will contribute in the future with your submissions.

The Editorial Team

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN: JUNG AND NEUMANN ON ART, ARCHETYPES AND THE SPIRIT OF THE TIMES

MARTIN LIEBSCHER

PHANÊS • VOLUME 3 • 2020 • PP. 1–24

https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes.2020.Liebscher WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 2

ABSTRACT Where Sigmund Freud famously failed to engage seriously and openly with Nietzsche’s Thus spoke Zarathustra (1980 [1883-85]), C.G. Jung developed his psychological theory on the basis of a thorough critical engagement with the text and even dedicated a five-year long seminar series to its interpretation (1934-39). But similar to Freud before him he often developed a blind eye to his own contemporary literature and art. As Jung’s writings on Joyce’s Ulysses (Jung 1932) or Picasso’s paintings make (Jung 1932a) evident he tended to reject the symbolic dimension of modernist art and literature and regarded it as a sheer product of the spirit of the times. Again, it was a psychologist of the next generation, Erich Neumann, whose adaptation of Jung’s theory made it possible to apply archetypal theory to modernist art. This article will follow the key differences between Jung’s and Neumann’s understanding of art and literature by looking at their interpretations of main examples of modernism.

KEYWORDS Erich Neumann, Pablo Picasso, James Joyce, the Great Mother archetype.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 3

batch of people in Zurich persuaded themselves that I was gradually going mad and actually endeavoured to induce me to enter a sanatorium where a certain Doctor Jung (the Swiss Tweedledum who is not the Abe confused with the Viennese Tweedeldee, Dr. Freud) amuses himself at the expense (in every sense of the word) of ladies and gentlemen who are troubled with bees in their bonnets. (Joyce 1966:167).

This is the voice of James Joyce in a letter to Harriet Shaw Weaver from 24 June 1921, recounting his Zurich days of 1915, a time he spent writing extensively on his modernist masterpiece Ulysses (1984 [1922]).1 It was also the period of Tweedledum’s personal crisis, who since 1913 had experienced a number of unsettling visions he was trying to come to terms with. The protocol of these visions in several black note books would eventually provide the material base for the Liber Novus or Red Book (Jung 2009). Joyce’s Ulysses and Jung’s Liber Novus do not only share the time and place, but as it seems—also their mode of creation with each other: one of the main novels of modernism and Jung’s revision of the private protocols of his encounter with the collective unconscious are linked through the common experience of, what Jung called using a term coined by Pierre Janet an ‘abaissement du niveau mental’—in both cases overcome by the ability of their authors to endure this decline of conscious ego control with the help of their creativity.2 However, whereas in the case of Joyce the aesthetic form of Ulysses would somehow emulate the mental

1 Joyce referred in his letter in particular to Edith Rockefeller McGormick, who wanted Joyce to go into analysis with Jung. When he refused, she stopped supporting him financially (Loeb-Shloss 2003:277) . 2 Jung on Ulysses: ʻIn Janet’s psychology this phenomenon is known as abaissement du niveau mental. Among the insane it happens involuntarily, but with Joyce it is the result of deliberate training. All the richness and grotesque profundity of dream-thinking come to the surface when the fonction du réel, that is, adapted consciousness, is switched off. Hence the predominance of psychic and verbal automatism and the total neglect of any communicable meaningʼ (1932:112, n. 7).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 4

stage of fragmentation and dissolution of the ego, the Liber Novus forms a rather traditional narrative similar to nineteenth-century ‘visionary’ works such as Nietzsche’s Zarathustra or Hölderlin’s Hyperion. In his study on schizophrenia and modernism, the American clinical psychologist Louis A. Sass attempted to show the affiliations between the psychotic condition of schizophrenia and the twentieth century avant-garde movement in literature and art (Sass 1994). Strangely enough, though he briefly mentions the case of Lucia Joyce, whom her father brought reluctantly to Jung for treatment in 1934––she was to some extent treated by Cary F. Baynes––Sass did not use Ulysses as an example to support his argument. Perhaps he refrained from doing so, because Jung had already taken on this task in his ‘notorious’ 1932 essay on Ulysses:

Even the layman would have no difficulty in tracing the analogies between Ulysses and the schizophrenic mentality. The resemblance is indeed so suspicious that an indignant reader might easily fling the book aside with the diagnosis ‘schizophrenia’. (Jung 1932:§173).

Jung’s essay is referred to as notorious as—at first glance—it seems to offer little more than the confession of his complete inability to deal with modernist literature: he utters about his difficulties of reading the text, counts the times he fell asleep, and uses the ‘tapeworm’ as a metaphor to explain the production mode of the novel. However, despite his barely disguised personal dislike of the novel, Jung does not qualify the text as the product of a schizophrenic mind:

It would never occur to me to class Ulysses as a product of schizophrenia. Moreover, nothing would be gained by this label, for we wish to know why Ulysses exerts such a powerful influence and not whether its author is a high-grade or a low- grade schizophrenic. Ulysses is no more a pathological product than modern art is as a whole. (Jung 1932:§174).

But, and here Jung’s attempt equals that of Sass, he detects an analogy between modernist art and schizophrenic symptoms. The artist desires and intentionally aims at what the schizophrenic lives through as a result of the destruction of his personality, and thereby gains, in contrast to the mentally ill, the unity of his artistic personality. But one might add

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 5

here, it is not only the artist who aims at inducing this state:

The predominance of unconscious influences, together with the associated disintegration of the persona and the deposition of the conscious mind from power, constitute a state of psychic disequilibrium which, in analytical treatment, is artificially induced for the therapeutic purpose of resolving a difficulty that might block further development. (Jung 1928:§252).

Jung, who hardly seems to be aware of the similarities between his analytical method and the artistic mode of production, calls modernist art a ‘Mephistophelian perversion of sense into non-sense, of beauty into ugliness’ (1932:§176) and describes Ulysses as a text that is insulting ‘all our conventional feelings’ and that ‘brutally disappoints our expectations of sense and contents’ (1932:§177). Jung explains his negative attitude towards the novel through his unmodern position that would, out of ill will, still suspect traces of synthesis and form: ‘the resentment of the unmodern man who does not want to see what the gods have graciously veiled from his sight.’ (1932:§177) Ulysses, according to Jung, found its precursors in the pre-modern Dionysian exuberance of Nietzsche’s Zarathustra and Ecce Homo, the second part of Goethe’s Faust, or Hölderlin’s Hyperion (1932:§178), but these texts would still intend to recommend themselves to the public, a characteristic that would differentiate them from modernist novels such as Ulysses. One can deduce from this statement that the Liber Novus, insofar as it belongs to this pre-modernist group of ‘visionary’ texts, i.e. created by the overwhelming of the consciousness through unconscious contents, was also written with the intention to be understood and to convey a message, albeit to Jung himself. In Ulysses, Jung laments, one would search in vain for any symbolic contents. One can only imagine Jung’s puzzlement when he came across Elijah’s departure in a chariot over Donohoe’s in Little Green Street3 or his second coming before the ‘great and dreadful day’4 in a brothel:

3 ‘When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah! Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe’s in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel’ (Joyce 1984 [1922]:741-2). 4 Malachi 4:5: ‘Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 6

FLORRY: (Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.) The end of the world!

(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her. Nebulous obscurity occupies space. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares over coughs and feetshuffling.)

THE GRAMOPHONE: Jerusalem!

Open your gates and sing

Hosanna...

(A rocket rushes up the sky and bursts. A white star falls from it, proclaiming the consummation of all things and second coming of Elijah. Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End of the World, a twoheaded octopus in gillie’s kilts, busby and tartan filibegs, whirls through the murk, head over heels, in the form of the Three Legs of Man.)

THE END OF THE WORLD: (With a Scotch accent.) Wha’ll dance the keel row, the keel row, the keel row?

(Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah’s voice, harsh as a corncrake’s, jars on high. Perspiring in a loose lawn surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum about which the banner of old glory is draped. He thumps the parapet.)

ELIJAH: No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths shut. Say, I am operating all this trunk line. Boys, do it now. God’s time is 12.25. Tell mother you’ll be there.

great and dreadful day of the LORD’ (KJV).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 7

Rush your order and you play a slick ace. Join on right here. Book through to eternity junction, the nonstop run. Just one word more. Are you a god or a doggone clod? If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? Florry Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, Lynch Christ, it’s up to you to sense that cosmic force. Have we cold feet about the cosmos? No. Be on the side of the angels. Be a prism. You have that something within, the higher self. You can rub shoulders with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? I say you are. You once nobble that, congregation, and a buck joyride to heaven becomes a back number. You got me? It’s a lifebrightener, sure. The hottest stuff ever was. It’s the whole pie with jam in. It’s just the cutest snappiest line out. It is immense, supersumptuous. It restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. Joking apart and, getting down to bedrock, A. J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial philosophy, have you got that? O. K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street. Got me? That’s it. You call me up by sunphone any old time. Bumboosers, save your stamps. (He shouts.) Now then our glory song. All join heartily in the singing. Encore! (He sings.) Jeru... (Joyce 1984 [1922]:1099-1100).

In contrast, Jung experienced Elijah as a wise man, who revealed the all-important secret about the symbolic content of the unconscious to him, something that, according to Jung, does not exist in Joyce’s Ulysses:

I: ‘Is it a hellish dream? Mary; our mother? What madness lurks in your words? The mother of our Savior, our mother? When I crossed your threshold today; I foresaw calamity. Alas! It has come. Are you out of your senses, Salome? Elijah, protector of the divine law, speak: is this a devilish spell cast by the rejected? How can she say such a thing? Or are both of you out of your senses? You are symbols and Mary is a symbol. I am simply too confused to see through you now.’ E: ‘You may call us symbols for the same reason that you can also call your fellow men symbols, if you wish to. But we are just as real as your fellow men. You invalidate nothing and solve nothing by calling us symbols.’ I: ‘You plunge me into a terrible confusion. Do you wish to be

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 8

real?’ E: ‘We are certainly what you call real. Here we are, and you have to accept us. The choice is yours.’ (Jung 2009:249).

It has been said––and it was indeed one of Jung’s criticisms of Freud—that the Viennese Tweedeldee Freud had a tendency of pathologising literature, i.e. to interpret literary text as results of the neurotic condition of its author, or at least to deduce literary production from the psychological shortcomings of its author. In his reading of Joyce’s work Jung is very careful not to fall into the same trap. He talks of analogies between madness and modernist literature—and Ulysses is declared a manifestation of the ‘Zeitgeist’, the ‘spirit of the times’. But Jung himself seems incapable to link to this spirit. He has no cluewhat to do with the modernist text other than to ridicule it and to place it outside the framework of Analytical Psychology. He shares this inability to deal with the contemporary literature and art of his time with Freud a generation earlier. Where Freud failed to engage seriously and openly with texts like Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Jung stepped in and openly incorporated Nietzschean thinking in his theory. The question arises: who stepped in, when Jung failed to engage with modernist literature and art? This is where Erich Neumann and his attempt to apply Jungian psychology to modernist art come into play. Erich Neumann has often been described as one ofthe most important students of Jung, or perhaps the most important one. This verdict originates partially from Jung’s preface to Neumann’s first major work, Origins and History of Consciousness (1949). There, Jung emphasised the value of Neumann’s study and honoured the book with an extraordinarily generous comment, stating that Neumann had continued labouring at the place where Jung had had to stop in his pioneering work––effectively declaring Neumann to be his successor (Jung 1949). Since Neumann’s premature death in 1960 his reputation has declined, not least due to a lack of support by the Zurich school, and because of fierce attacks from the developmental school of Fordham (Liebscher 2015:lv-lix). But the question has been raised at times whether Neumann’s work is an extension of Jung’s thinking, an independent valid psychology, or a false and dangerous deviation from Analytical Psychology. The following considerations will try to elaborate on this question against the background of Neumann’s understanding of modernist literature and art. Erich Neumann was born in Berlin into an assimilated Jewish family. In contrast to his parents, he was a dedicated Zionist and was prepared to

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 9

leave Germany for Palestine in 1933. He interrupted his journey to Tel Aviv for half a year to practice with Jung in Zurich (October to May, 1933-34). Besides this stay––and another one of two months in 1936––, there was no personal contact with Jung or the Zurich Jungians until 1947. Instead, there was an intense correspondence between Jung and Neumann. After the war, Neumann made annual trips to Switzerland from 1947 to 1960. In Ascona, he became one of the main contributors to the annual Eranos conference. Although Neumann often complained about the distance to Jung and that he missed out on the latest developments, the separation also opened up the possibility of an independent development of his thinking. Depth Psychology and a New Ethic (1949a), written during the war in Tel Aviv, was received with great hostility in Zurich and its shortcomings were derogatively described—together with those of Origins and History of Consciousness published in the same year—as the result of Neumann’s long absence from Zurich, which had prevented him from following and understanding the development of Analytical Psychology over the years. His later works such as Amor and Psyche (1952) or The Great Mother (1956) found more appreciation amongst the Jungian community. But until Neumann’s death in 1960 his relationship with the Zurich followers of Jung remained rather tense. But not least of all due to the physical distance, Neumann’s understanding of contemporary art and literature was less shaped by Jung’s view of the modernist art movement, which one can see from the very different art and literature he chose as subject for his depth-psychological research. This openness originated also from the fact that Neumann was a generation younger than Jung and had a different biographical background: 1. Neumann grew up in Berlin, which was a centre of modern art at the time. His formative years fell into the buzzling 1920s. His liberal upbringing would certainly allow him to notice the artistic developments around him. In comparison, Jung spent his childhood and adolescence in places like Kleinhüningen and Basle in the 1870s and 80s—brought up in the household of a pastor of the Swiss Reformed Church, a church that is inextricably linked with the iconoclastic teachings of the reformer Huldrych Zwingli. 2. From early on, Neumann had an interest in literature and wanted to become a writer himself. Poems and fragments of dramas date back to his school days such as a fragment of a dramatic play entitled Saul and the first act of a Judas drama, dated 20 November 1922, when Neumann was

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 10

just about seventeen years old:

Judas: Johannes, erlöse mich! Ich stehe und warte

und ich harre dessen, der da kommen soll.

Das Dunkel ist eingewurzelt in die Nacht

und ich warte auf das Licht das mich blenden

wird, vor dem ich mich fürchte. Johannes,

hast Du wieder von dem Lichte geträumt?

[Judas: John, save me! I stand and wait

And long for the one to come.

The darkness is enrooted in the night

and I await the light that will blind me,

of which I am afraid.

John, did you dream once more of the light?]. (Sotheby’s 2006:156).

This drama is followed by another unpublished manuscript on Jesus Christ, perhaps the continuation of the Judas play. Amongst his unpublished writings there is poetry from the years 1921 to 1929, written in an expressionist style:

Wie kann der Mensch das Ungebärdige

Das Unbestimmte seines dunklen Blutes

Vergessen über dem ungestümen Drang der Abende

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 11

Wo niemand singt mit den Stürmen,

Die fern vom Menschen zwischen den Sternen brausen.

Absage gilts und tiefere Trunkenheit

Denn unersättlich steht noch der heiße Tod

Das Aufgerissensein der verlassnen Erde.

Ob unter dem nie versiegenden Strom der Ewigkeit

Die in Berührung sich zärtlich verschwendet,

Noch neuere Köstlichkeit und menschenverändernde Nähe

Sich in uns ausströmt—einsam gespannt kreist doch

Der Genius uns, der einst uns abruft...

[How is it that one can forget the skittish

Indeterminacy of one’s dark blood,

In the impetuous urge of evenings,

When no-one sings while the storms

Are roaring far beyond humanity among the stars.

There is denial and deeper drunkenness,

As fervid death stands there insatiable,

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 12

The laceration of the forsaken soil.

If there, beneath the inexhaustible flow of eternity,

Tenderly lavishing itself,

New delight and life-changing intimacy

Pours out in us—lonely and drawn,

The Genius who will finally call us back encircles us]. (ibid:154).

He also wrote a novel entitled Der Anfang, which was partially published in 1932.

3. Before Neumann became interested in analytical psychology and embarked on the study of medicine, he enrolled at the University of Berlin for courses in philosophy, psychology, pedagogy, literature, history of arts, and Semitic studies (1923-26). He continued these studies in Erlangen and finished with a dissertation on the mystic language philosophy of the romantic writer Johann Arnold Kanne (Neumann 1928). During this time Neumann befriended the young and talented student of philosophy Hannah Arendt. She had recently left Marburg, where she was involved in an affair with the philosophy lecturer Martin Heidegger, to continue her studies in Heidelberg with Karl Japers (Arendt & Heidegger 1999). The move was also due to married Heidegger’s urging to avoid a public scandal. At the time she formed a friendship with Erich Neumann, Karl Frankenstein (1905-1990) and the expressionist writer Erwin Loewenson (1888-1963) (Young-Bruehl 1982: 66). Frankenstein, a friend of Neumann’s from his school days at the Mommsen Gymnasium in Berlin, studied philosophy and psychology together with Neumann at the University of Erlangen. In 1935 he immigrated to British Mandate Palestine and became a Professor of Pedagogy and Special Education at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. According to Arendt’s biographer Elisabeth Young-Bruehl, all three men were attracted to the young Jewish student, but only Loewenson’s advances were successful and they had a brief love affair in 1927.5 When Neumann died in 1960 Arendt wrote the 5 A photography of Neumann and Arendt can be found in Löwenthal-Neumann (2006:158).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 13

following poem in her diaries:

30 Nov. 1960 Erich Neumann’s death. What remains of you? Nothing more than a hand, nothing more than the expectancy quivering in your fingers, when they grasped and closed in greeting. For this grasp remained as a trace in my hand, which did not forget, which still sensed how you used to be when your mouth and your eyes long since failed you. (Arendt 2002: 613).6

4. Neumann’s interest in art and literature came alongside his fascination with Jewish mysticism, the Kabbalah, and Hasidism. He saw the revival of Hasidism (along the lines of Buber’s understanding), next to the Hebrew language, as the major aspect of modern Jewish identity. His correspondence with Jung on this subject lead Neumann to write two volumes on The Roots of Jewish Consciousness (2019 [1934-40]). The result of Neumann’s interest in the arts together with his Zionist conviction and the fascination with Hasidism were two studies on a couple of prominent Jewish contributors to modernism: Franz Kafka and Marc Chagall. Neumann wrote a commentary on Kafka’s novel Das Schloss and fifteen of his short stories, which he sent to Martin Buber, who praised his interpretations for their originality (Löwe 2014:377).7 What is remarkable about the Kafka commentary is that it was written as early as 1932. In comparison, Max Brod’s seminal Kafka biography was only published in 1937. The emphasis of Neumann’s interpretation is more on the Jewish character of Kafka’s writing—he links certain themes to Kabbalistic and Hasidic traditions (e.g. in ‘The Bucket Rider’)—than on its psychological implications. This is not surprising, as the Kafka commentary was written years before Neumann met Jung for the first time. In his 1956 Eranos lecture ‘Creative Man and the Great Experience’, Neumann returned to Kafka in order to explain the transpersonal quality of

6 Translated by Heather McCartney. 7 Neumann’s commentary on The Trial was published in Neumann (1958), its English translation and the cathedral chapter in Neumann 1979:3-112. For a detailed list of Neumann’s unpublished typescripts on Kafka see Sotheby’s catalogue (2006:146-147).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 14

human creativity:

However different the experiences of artists may be, and in whatever different ways these experiences may appear to them and through them, their creativity always represents a breakthrough in which the dimension of the purely personal opens out into the realm of the intrinsic essence of things which constitutes the suprapersonal background of reality. [Neumann 1956a: 160]. [So verschieden auch die Erfahrungen der Künstler sind und auf wie verschiedene Weise sie sich in ihnen und durch sie auch darstellen, immer ist ihr Schöpferisches der Durchbruch durch das Nur-Personale der Erfahrung in ein Wesenhaftes, das den überpersönlichen Hintergrund der Wirklichkeit ausmacht].

Neumann does not deny Kafka’s father complex, so tragically expressed in the ‘Letter to the Father’, but behind the complex he sees the transpersonal (or archetypal) field of the sacrifice of the son, e.g. in ‘The Judgment’. The sacrifice of Isaac and the death of Christ on the cross are cited as two examples that connect to the protest of the modern human against God that Jung articulates in ‘Answer to Job’. And, here we find a link to Neumann’s early Kafka interpretation of ‘The Judgment’, according to which Kafka’s literature is the expression of collective Jewish suffering faced with a surrounding hostile world that is created and directed by an almighty and cruel father. The creative human being is, according to Neumann, able to endure (and even to free herself or himself from) her or his personal suffering through the creation or making visible of something that belongs to reality. And this is where the personal realm transcends into the transpersonal. The difference to Jung’s reading of Ulysses is evident. Jung rejects the symbolic dimension of the text and regards it as a sign of the times. Joyce deliberately attempts, according to Jung, to avoid any collective archetypal meaning. A bad pun it is, where Jung expresses his astonishment that Ulysses has nothing in common with the ancient Greek myth. Neumann, in contrast, sees the transpersonal as the fundamental quality of any creative production. Arguably, Kafka makes it easier for Neumann than Joyce for Jung, but there is one creative personality, though not a writer but an artist, which both psychologists wrote about: Pablo Picasso.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 15

In the aforementioned essay, Neumann follows up the example of Kafka with that of Picasso. He refers to Picasso’s drawings originating from late 1953 to early 1954. Those drawings followed a personal crisis when the aging artist was left by his long-time partner Françoise Gilot and his mistress Genevieve Laporte around the same time.8 The topic of these 180 drawings is almost exclusively the artist and his model. The woman, depicted as a goddess, beautiful and unapproachable at the same time, is contrasted by the figure of the artist, who is ‘in contrast to the superior being of the naked and silent woman human and all too human’ [Neumann 1956: 99; my translation] [‘im Gegensatz zum überlegenen Dasein der nackten und schweigenden Frau menschlich und allzumenschlich’] The variety of the depiction of this relationship transcends the individual case of Picasso’s desperation:

Abreaction of a dream, the complex as a wound, the personal an ignition and inducement––but in Picasso’s passionate concentration all of that is re-melted, without a single drawing being drafted as a symbol. Here the opposition between artist and model changes into that between man and woman, consciousness and reality, art and life, creative spirit and inconceivable nature. In the artistic creation all that and more becomes a visible one, a higher unity of psyche and world, life and archetype, singularity and eternity appears in a very mundane symbol: the artist and his model as symbol of a ‘great experience’ of the unity of reality. [Neumann 1956:100].

[‘Abreaktion eines Traumes, der Komplex als Wunde, das Personale als Zünding und Anlass––aber in der leidenschaftlichen Konzentration Picassos wird all dies umgeschmolzen, und ohne dass ein einziges Blatt als Symbol gestaltet ist, wird der Gegensatz von Maler und Modell zu dem von Mann und Frau, von Bewusstsein und Wirklichkeit, von Kunst und Leben, von formendem Geist und unfassbarer Natur. In der künstlerischen Gestaltung aber verbindet sich all dies und mehr zu einem Sichtbaren, und die höhere Einheit von Psyche und Welt, Leben und Archetyp, Einmaligkeit und Ewigkeit erscheint in dem höchst irdischen Symbol: der Maler und sein Modell als Symbol einer “Großen Erfahrung” vom Ganzen der Wirklichkeit’].

8 A Suite of 180 Drawings by Picasso Verve 29-30, ed. Leiris, Michel; West, Rebecca (Harcourt, Brace, and Co. 1954).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 16

Jung wrote on Picasso shortly after the publication of his essay on Joyce in 1932. The Kunsthaus Zürich had just presented the first major exhibition of Picasso’s work, from 11 September to 30 October 1932, when Jung was asked to comment on Picasso’s art for the Neue Zürcher Zeitung. He calls Joyce Picasso’s literary brother and stresses the link between modernist art and illness once more, when he assures the reader that Picasso’s psychological problems—insofar as expressed in his art— are analogous to those of his patients [Jung 1932a:§205]. Jung understood creative art as an attempt to deal with the unconscious and to connect this inner side with an outer conscious and material expression, something he frequently asked his patients to do. Jung divided the paintings of his patients into two groups: the neurotic, which he saw as expressions of feelings and form a complete whole, and the schizophrenic, which Jung describes as lacking any feeling, full of contradictions, and formally fragmented: ‘The image leaves one cold or seems terrifying due to its paradoxical, emotionally disturbing, spooky or grotesque ruthlessness towards the viewer. Picasso belongs to this group.’ [Jung 1932a:208] [‘Das Bild läßt kalt oder wirkt erschreckend wegen seiner paradoxen, gefühlsstörenden, schauerlichen oder grotesken Rücksichtslosigkeit auf den Betrachtenden. Picasso gehört zu dieser Gruppe.’] [§208] This passage caused a stir, when published in the NZZ, and Jung felt obliged to add a footnote to the published version in Wirklichkeit der Seele (1934):

I do not regard Picasso as psychotic, nor Joyce, but count them to a vast group of human beings, whose disposition it is not to react to a profound disturbance of their soul with a common psycho-neurosis but with a schizoid complex of symptoms. [Jung 1934:153 n. 3; my translation] [‘Ich bezeichne Picasso ebensowenig wie Joyce als psychotisch, sondern rechne sie bloß zu jener umfangreichen Menschengruppe, deren Habitus es ist, nicht mit einer gewöhnlichen Psychoneurose auf eine tiefgehende seelische Störung zu reagieren, sondern mit einem schizoiden Symptomenkomplex’].

Schizophrenics, Jung continues, do not try to convey a symbolical content, which becomes obvious in Joyce or Picasso. Picasso’s personal artistic development equals a process of a night-sea journey (blue phase), reaching down into the abaissment du niveau mental or katabasis eis

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 17

antron. There he encounters the Harlequin, a figure that Jung compares to Nietzsche’s ropedancer from Zarathustra, doubting Picasso’s ability to escape the hell in which he has descended. As becomes evident in the case of Picasso, Jung does not use archetypal theory to understand the art-work, but to understand the artist and his psychological development, whereas Neumann goes indeed beyond the personal to find the transpersonal significance that art, and indeed modernist art, conveys. What this means for an analytical psychological interpretation of art becomes clear in the case of Neumann’s understanding of Chagall’s paintings. Neumann’s text, entitled ‘Note on Marc Chagall’ (1954) originated from a presentation in Tel Aviv and was first published in the journal Merkur. For Neumann, great art offers a glimpse beyond the personal realm of the artist. It is a contemporary representation of timeless, collective unconscious contents. Hence, to search for an individual intention in Chagall’s work would mean reducing his art to a personal level. And this is where Chagall’s creation of art differed from the surrealists:

But—and this is the very crux of the matter—Chagall is no Surrealist working with the blind unconscious of Freudian free association. A profound, but by no means unformed, reality makes itself felt in his work. The dream law of his paintings flows from a unity of feeling, reflected not only in the intrinsic colour development but also in the relationship between the symbols that order themselves round the symbolic centre of the picture. These symbolic centres of Chagall’s pictures are unquestionably spontaneous products of his unconscious, and not constructions of his ego. (Neumann 1954:135-136).

In his interpretation of Chagall’s work, we can find two of Neumann’s main psychological interests. First, the question of Jewish psychology: in Chagall’s art the traditional Jewish belief in prophecies makes place for a new kind of prophetic message. In these paintings Neumann can see the return to childhood, where the personal and the supra-personal, the inner and the outer become one:

For what is childhood but the time of great events; the time in which the great figures are close at hand and look out from behind the corner of the house next door; the time in which the deepest symbols of the soul are everyday realities, and the world is still radiant with its innermost depth? This childhood reaches

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 18

back to the earliest prehistory and embraces Abraham’s angels as tenderly as the neighbor’s ass; […] In this childhood there is yet no separation between personal and supra-personal, near and far, inward soul and outward world; the life stream flows undivided, joining godhead and man, animal and world, in the glow and colour of the nearby. (Neumann 1954:138).

Due to this quality the art work transcends the realm of the personal and can reveal the development and change of the Jewish soul as a collective message. This message is connected to the second pillar of Neumann’s psychological model: the aspect of the feminine. In Chagall’s art the patriarchal characteristics of the prophetic Jewry are replaced by matriarchal qualities. Neumann sees in this the return of the Shekinah from exile. The Shekinah as the female principle of God, also known as Malkuth, unites with Tifereth, the male principle of God. But this new Jewish emphasis on the feminine, claims Neumann, is no compensatory development to the old prophetic Jewry, but a development of a new prophecy that goes beyond the Jewish tradition. It is the union between the anima and the Self that forms the deeper message of Chagall’s art. In Chagall’s paintings, such as ‘Madonna of the Village,’ Neumann saw an archetypal representation of the archetype of the Great Mother. From 1947 to 1951, Neumann was working on his monograph on that archetype – originally intended as an introduction to the publication of the 1938 Eranos exhibition catalogue. As became evident from the Chagall interpretation, the matriarchal aspect formed a substantial aspect of Neumann’s understanding of art, an aspect that was even more accentuated in his extensive interpretation of Henry Moore’s work, published posthumously in 1961 under the title The archetypal world of Henry Moore (Neumann 1961). In Moore’s art, Neumann could find both archetypal representations he was interested in: the reclining figure of the feminine and the mother and child relationship—for Neumann, both, of course, representations of the Great Mother archetype. Moore himself confirmed his obsession with these motifs:

The ‘Mother and child’ idea is one of my two or three obsessions, one of my inexhaustible subjects . . . But the subject itself is eternal and unending, with so many sculptural possibilities in it—a small form in relation to a big form protecting the

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 19

small one, and so on. It is such a rich subject, both humanly and compositionally, that I will always go on using it. (Moore 1979:29).

In his interpretation, Neumann describes the art of Moore as the development of the feminine in relation to the child. It starts with the protective aspect of the mother, the image of the cavity: ontogenetically, this represents the mother’s protection the child experiences in the first month; on a phylogenetic level this positive aspect of the archetype of the Great Mother has found its expressions in images and worship of fertility goddesses. Over time, says Neumann, one can detect an increasing dehumanisation of Moore’s art and an increasing fascination with the ‘opening out’ – as Moore called it. This mysterium of the ‘opening out’ cannot, according to Neumann, be reduced solely to a Freudian understanding. For Neumann these sculptures give the opportunity to experience what he calls the ‘Einheitswirklichkeit’ [unity of reality]. Through the use of the tactile sense one can experience these openings as the primal experience of childhood. The individual mother experience merges here with the archetypal. It is the mystery of the night sea journey—the way into the inner side of nature, where the motherly body changes into the earth mother. During the war, Moore’s objects, claimed Neumann, turned away from the positive aspect of the archetype; nevertheless, even in his drawings of the air-raid bunkers during the war the motif remains still the same: it is the depiction of the inside of the earth, the protective cover, the shelter. Only, in this case, the figures are depicted in an in-between state of sleep and death and start to reveal the other, darker side of the archetype of the Great Mother. Already in the reclining figures from 1939 one can clearly see the negative side of the archetype: here the Great Mother is not depicted anymore as a goddess of fertility, but of death:

Whereas the covering positive quality [of the archetype] is linked to the symbol of the robe or vesture and the blanket, the expression of its deadly destructive opposite is the bleakness and nakedness, the reduction to the mechanical and ghostly aspect of the skeleton, which is stripped of all its organic wealth. [ʻWährend der bergend-positive Charakter mit dem Symbol des Gewandes und der Decke verbunden ist, ist der Ausdruck seines tödlich-zerstörenden Gegensatzes die Kahlheit und Nacktheit,

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 20

die Reduktion auf das Mechanisch-Geisterhafte des aller organischen Fülle entkleideten Skelettesʼ.]. (Neumann 1961: 81)

But in a Jungian twist, this polarisation leads in the development of Moore’s art to a unifying third. The union of opposites shows itself in Moore’s post-war sculpture of the triads (the Norns or Moirai) and the emergence of the father in his family group sculptures. In his article on the reception of Moore’s work, the art historian Julian Stallabrass highlights the importance of Jungian art criticism for the time—leading away from the all-too-obvious biographical interpretations:

[Both Digby and] Neumann saw Moore’s work as a flight from civilisation and its products, from intellect, material progress and individualism. Civilisation over-privileges the patriarchal values of technology and mechanism, and Moore’s obsession with the mother-archetype is a natural reaction against this. […] For Neumann, Moore’s anti-naturalistic distortions have nothing to do with modernism, but are solely a means through which this archetype can be more forcefully expressed. (Stallabrass 1992).

I disagree with this verdict as it seems only to reiterate the criticism brought forward against Jung, albeit in a reversed way. Neumann, in contrast to Jung, does not speak out against Moore’s art as modernist. Yes, on the one hand, he understands creative art as a representation of the spirit of the times, which can be seen in the values of the time. But, on the other hand, he states that behind these one can also discover an unconscious collective layer—and this archetypal content forms the interest of Neumann. For Neumann, the modernist and archetypal interpretations do not exclude each other; and the fact that Neumann can apply archetypal criticism to modernist art is precisely where he differs from Jung’s approach. Neumann’s psychological interpretation of Moore’s art is also one of the rare cases where the artist concerned engaged with the interpretation and reacted to it. It seems opportune to finish this article with a verdict by the artist about his interpreter:

Part of the excitement of sculpture is the associations it can arouse, quite independent of the original aims and ideas of the sculptor. But I do not have any desire to rationalise the eroticism

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 21

in my work, to think out consciously what Freudian or Jungian symbols may lie behind what I create. That I leave for others to do. I started to read Erich Neumann’s book on my work, The Archetypal World of Henry Moore [1959], in which he suggests a Jungian interpretation, but I stopped halfway through the first chapter, because I did not want to know about these things, whether they were true or not. I did not want such aspects of my work to become henceforth self-conscious. I feel they should remain subconscious and the work should remain intuitive. Perhaps the associations it can arouse are all the stronger for that very reason. (Moore 2002:115).

University College London [email protected]

REFERENCES Arendt, Hannah. 2002. Denktagebuch. Edited by Ursula Ludz and Ingeborg Nordmann. 2 volumes. Munich: Piper. Arendt, Hannah & Martin Heidegger. 1999. Briefe 1925 bis 1975 und andere Zeugnisse. Edited by Ursula Ludz. 2nd edition. Frankfurt: Vittorio Klostermann. Joyce, James. 1984 [1922]. Ulysses: A Critical and Synoptic Edition Prepared by Hans Walter Gabler with Wolfhard Steppe and Claus Melchior. New York & London: Garland Publishing. Joyce, James. 1966. Letters of James Joyce. Volume 1. New York: Viking. Jung, Carl Gustav. 1928. The relation between the ego and the unconscious. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 7, §§202-406. ———. 1932. ‘“Ulysses”: A Monologue.’ Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 15, §§163-203. ———. 1932a. ‘Picasso.’ Collected Works of C.G. Jung. vol. 15, §§204 214. ———. 1934. Wirklichkeit der Seele. Anwendungen und Fortschritte der neueren Psychologie. Zürich: Rascher. ———. 1949. ‘Foreword to Neumann The Origins and History of Consciousness.’ Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 18, §§1234-1237.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 22

———. 2009. The Red Book: Liber Novus. Edited and with an Introduction by Sonu Shamdasani. Trans. by Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Sonu Shamdasani. London: W.W. Norton & Company. Loeb Shloss, Carol. 2003. Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake. London: Bloomsbury. Liebscher, Martin. 2015. ‘Introduction.’ In Erich Neumann and Carl Gustav Jung. Analytical Psychology in Exile. The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and Erich Neumann. Edited by Martin Liebscher. Translated by Eather McCartney. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press: xi-lix. Löwe, Angelica. 2014. Auf der Seite der inneren Stimme: Erich Neumann— Leben und Werk. München: Verlag Karl Alber. Löwenthal-Neumann, Rali. 2006. ‘My father, Dr Erich Neumann.’ Harvest. International Journal for Jungian Studies 52 (2):148-160. Moore, Henry. 1979. Henry Moore Drawings 1969-79. New York: Wildenstein. ——— 2002. Writings and Conversations. Edited by Alan Wilkinson. Berkeley: University of California Press. Neumann, Erich. 1928. Johann Arnold Kanne. Ein vergessener Romantiker. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der mystischen Sprachphilosophie. Berlin: Verlag Reuter & Reichard. ——— 1932. Chapter of the unpublished novel Der Anfang. In Julius Wassermann (ed.). Zwischen den Zelten: junge jüdische Autoren. Berlin: Die Nachricht:135-155. ——— 2019 [1934-40]. The Roots of Jewish Consciousness. Edited by Ann Conrad Lammers. 2 volumes. London: Routledge. ——— 1949. Ursprungsgeschichte des Bewusstseins. Zürich: Rascher; English translation as The Origins and History of Consciousness. Translated by R.F.C. Hull. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1954. ——— 1949a. Tiefenpsychologie und Neue Ethik. Zurich: Rascher. English translation by Eugene Rolfe: Depth Psychology and a New Ethic. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1969; reprint: Massachusetts: Shambhala, 1990. ——— 1952. ‘Eros und Psyche. Ein Beitrag zur seelischen Entwicklung

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 MARTIN LIEBSCHER 23

des Weiblichen.’ In Apuleius Amor und Psyche. Zürich: Rascher:75-217. English translation as ‘The psychic development of the feminine: a commentary on the tale by Apuleius’. Translated by Ralph Manheim in Apuleius Amor and Psyche. New York: Pantheon Books, 1956:57 161. ——— 1954. ‘Bemerkung zu Mark Chagall.’ In Kunst und schöpferisches Unbewusstes. Umkreisung der Mitte. Volume 3. Zürich: Rascher. English as ‘Note on Marc Chagall.’ In Art and the Creative Unconscious: Four Essays. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1959:135-148. ——— 1956. Die große Mutter. Der Archetyp des großen Weiblichen. Zurich: Rhein-Verlag. Again as Die große Mutter. Die weiblichen Gestaltungen des Unbewussten. Düsseldorf: Patmos, 2003. English translation as The Great Mother. An Analysis of the Archetype by Ralph Manheim. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1955. ——— 1956a. ‘Der schöpferische Mensch und die „Große Erfahrung“ .’ In Der schöpferische Mensch. Zürich: Rhein Verlag, 1959. English translation as ‘Creative Man and the “Great Experience”.’ In The Essays of Erich Neumann. Volume 3. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press:131-202. ——— 1958. ‘Aus dem ersten Teil des Kafka-Kommentars: “Das Gericht”.’ In Geist und Werk. Aus der Werkstatt unserer Autoren. Zum 75. Geburtstag von Dr. Daniel Brody. Zürich: Rhein Verlag:175-196. English translation by Eugene Rolfe as ‘Kafka’s “The Trial”: An Interpretation through Depth Psychology.’ In Creative Man, Bollingen series LXI/2 . Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979:3-75. ——— 1961. Die archetypische Welt Henry Moores. Zürich: Rascher; English translation by R.F.C. Hull as The Archetypal World of Henry Moore. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1985. ——— 1979. Creative Man. Five Essays. Translation by Eugene Rolfe. Bollingen Series LXI/2. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1980 [1883-85]. Also sprach Zarathustra. Kritische Studienausgabe. 15 volumes. Edited by Mazzino Montinari and Giorgio Colli. Volume 4. Berlin, New York: de Gruyter. English translation by Adrian Del Caro as Thus spoke Zarathustra. Edited by Adrian Del Caro and Robert Pippin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Sass, Louis A. 1994. Madness and Modernism: Insanity in the Light of Modern Art, Literature, and Thought. Harvard: Harvard University

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHEN THE GREAT MOTHER MET THE HARLEQUIN 24

Press. Sotheby’s. 2006. Music and continental manuscripts. London: Sotheby’s, 30 November. Stallabrass, Julian. 1992. ‘The Mother and Child Theme in the Work of Henry Moore’. In Henry Moore. Mutter und Kind/ Mother and Child. Leeds: Henry Moore Foundation:13-39. Young-Bruehl, Elisabeth (1982): Hannah Arendt. For the love of the world. New Have: Yale University Press.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020

FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC: JUNG’S EXPLORATION OF COLOUR IN THE RED BOOK, 1915-1929/30

DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS

PHANÊS • VOLUME 3 • 2020 • PP. 25–75

https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes.2020.Zervas FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 26

ABSTRACT Jung wrote extensively about colour symbolism in his patients’ dreams, paintings, and active imagination, beginning with his first mandala study in 1929, and continuing during the 1930s as he learned more about alchemy and Eastern esoteric texts. Students of Jung and Jungian analysts are already well acquainted with this material. The publication of The Red Book (2009), and Jung’s visual works in The Art of C.G. Jung (2019), present new opportunities to study how Jung explored colour between 1915 and 1929. This paper will trace Jung’s colour journey, concentrating on imagery that illustrates the instinctual and cosmic energies of the new god, the self and individuation. Jung’s evolving colour symbolism demonstrates The Red Book’s crucial role as an experimental medium, and confirms that Jung had developed a well-established colour hermeneutic by the 1920s.

KEY WORDS colour, instinct, cosmos, new god, self, individuation, mandala, Goethe.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 27

ung’s most intense personal experiments with colour took place when he was engaged with The Red Book, the calligraphic version of Liber Novus (1913-1917) that he embellished with coloured initials, words, and images betweenJ 1915 and 1929. He employed watercolour and gouache pigments naturalistically to create the narrative episodes in some of the chapters of Liber Primus and Liber Secundus. In addition, he began to use them in a symbolic way for some of the imagery, and for the mandalas and paintings in the later sections of The Red Book that are unrelated to Liber Novus. This paper will trace the evolving role of colour from the text of Liber Novus to the decoration of The Red Book, exploring how it complements and intensifies Jung’s ability to evoke the instinctual and cosmic dimensions of his emerging new god and the self in visual forms, often before they were conceptualised into his written work. By closely observing Jung’s experiments with colour symbolism during The Red Book period, it becomes possible to document their importance—albeit intentionally veiled—as a primary source of reference and ongoing reflection, when he subsequently investigated the emotional and symbolic meanings of colour in his patients’ dreams, visions, and paintings, and related them to the works of medieval and modern mystics, and to the vast panoply of chromatic associations he mined from alchemical texts. Jung’s exploration of colour in The Red Book is the hitherto unknown foundation for all his later hermeneutic colour studies, and provides a touchstone by which his awareness and use of contemporary artistic theories may be more thoroughly evaluated.1

JUNG’S IDEAS ABOUT COLOURS BEFORE LIBER NOVUS AND THE RED BOOK, 1900-1913 Early Studies Fascinated by art from a young age, Jung explored books in his father’s library, was taken to museums as a boy, and visited the Louvre

1 Medea Hoch (2019) provides a useful overview of Jung’s general concept of colour, relating it to the psychological aspects of colour in Goethe’s 1810 Theory of Colour, Kandinsky’s 1911 essay ‘On The Spiritual in Art’, the colour theories of the Dadaists, and the colour symbolism of medieval art and alchemy as potential sources.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 28

during his sojourn in Paris whilst attending the lectures of Janet in 1902-03, the British Museum in 1903, and the Armory Show when he was in New York in March 1913. He also sketched and painted. The Jung family archive includes works that he made between 1885-1908. Many of his pastels and watercolours reveal a propensity for strong colours, often applied more expressionistically than naturalistically.2 As a medical student, Jung was aware of contemporary research on the psychological effects of colour. At the beginning of his inaugural dissertation, ‘On the Psychology of So-Called Occult Phenomena’, he cited experiments published by Guinon and Woltke in 1891, which documented the strikingly analogous associative and emotion-toned hallucinations that regularly occurred in a female patient who viewed glass panels tinted blue, red, and yellow during hysterical attacks (1902:§22).3 Their investigations may also have influenced Jung’s decision to include colour words among the lists used for his word association tests conducted between 1902-10 (1909:§§941-942). In a subsequent section of his dissertation, Jung detailed the elaborate mystic system of world forces ‘revealed’ to his cousin Helene in March 1900. The diagram she asked him to draw consisted of seven concentric circles. The Good or Light forces, Magnesor, are aligned on the left horizontal axis of the circles, and the Dark Powers, Connesor, on the right one. Helene visualised Magnesor ‘as a shining white or bluish vapour that developed when good spirits are near’, and then ‘solidified’ into visible white figures. Conestor was ‘a black fuming fluid’ that arose when ‘black’ spirits appeared, and then materialised into black figures (1902:§§65-70). Significantly, her hallucinatory images emerged from the two coloured mediums she perceived, as had those reported by Guinon and Woltke’s hysterical patients when viewing their world through tinted glass. Thus by 1902 Jung was already professionally aware of emotional and symbolic associations linked with red, yellow, blue, green, black and white. Given his early interest in the psychological effects of colours, it is likely that Jung had also researched symbolic colour theories. He owned a copy of Frédéric Portal’s 1837 treatise, Des Couleurs symboliques

2 Sonu Shamdasani (Introduction, RB RE:9-10,33-34); Art: Cats. 8, 10, 12, 13, 16, 21. See Hoerni (2019:12-13), Fischer and Kaufmann (2019:20-21), for Jung’s early influences and collection of art reproductions and paintings. 3 Although Jung only mentioned one female patient, the colour-related responses he cited pertain to Guinon and Woltke’s final conclusions, which summarise three patients’ similar reactions when exposed to glass tinted red (evoking blood, wounds), yellow (sun, yellow clothing), various tones of blue (mother, sky) and green (grass, fields, dark water, loneliness, fear) (Guinon and Woltke 1891:353, 357, 361-262).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 29

(1837), but its date of purchase is unknown. Through patients and colleagues connected to the art world, he may have been aware of various contemporary colour theories before 1915 (LN RE:33-37; Shamdasani 2018; Hoch 2019:34-35).

Goethe’s Theory of Colours Jung was familiar with Goethe’s influential Theory of Colours (1810), included in the poet’s scientific writings. He cited Eckermann’s Conversations with Goethe, which contain numerous discussions on Goethe’s colour theories, in his dissertation, and quoted Goethe’s description of his ability to produce waking ‘dream pictures’—an important precursor of active imagination (1902:28, 143n, 183). Goethe had observed that ‘particular colours excite particular states of feeling’ (1840:§762; Hoch 2019:33), a statement that later 19th century researchers set out to demonstrate, and Jung’s investigations continued to confirm.4 Attempting to disprove Newtonian colour theory, Goethe had discovered that all colours arise from the elementary opposition of light and darkness. He first noticed this by observing the junction between a dark surface and a light surface through a prism: the colours only appeared at the junction. Therefore both light and dark were necessary to ‘call forth the colours’. Seeking confirmation in nature, the Urphänomen—the darkness of the sky and light of the sun—Goethe found that the colour blue arose by looking at the darkness of outer space through the light of the atmosphere: the origin of blue is the lightening of dark that occurs when dark is seen through light. Similarly, he observed that the origin of red and yellow, the two other primary colours, could be discovered in the sun’s changing colours. Overhead on a clear day, the sun is yellow; it darkens towards red as it moves closer to the horizon at sunset, and becomes whiter higher up in space as atmospheric thickness decreases. Therefore the origin of yellow and red is the darkening of light that occurs when light is observed through the atmosphere: light seen through dark.

4 In his 1925 Introduction to Jungian Psychology seminar, Jung explained that he had asked a patient to ‘try to express in color the inner condition of his mind’ (1989a:109). Describing the four colours in the Tibetan Book of the Dead in his ETH seminar on mandalas in the East and West, and Shūnyatā, Jung linked them to the four psychological functions, adding ‘colours are feeling values’ ([10 February 1939] 1959, 3:77-78), a view reiterated in Mysterium Coniunctionis: for patients using active imagination (and sometimes in dreams), ‘colours are feeling values’, and the appearance of colour signifies a shift from intellectual interest to emotional participation (1955:§333). See also Hoch (2019).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 30

Thus for Goethe, as he wrote in his Preface, colours are ‘the deeds and sufferings’ of light (‘Die Farben sind Taten des Lichts, Taten und Leiden’) (Goethe 1810:24). Although also attentive to colours’ possible meanings, Goethe refrained from elaborating them, believing ‘if our doctrine of colours finds favour, applications and allusions, allegorical, symbolical, and mystical, will not fail to be made, in conformity with the spirit of the age’ (1810:§920:199; 1840:§920:193; italics added). Goethe’s ideas about the creation of colours from light and darkness would have resonated with Jung during the years he was working on Liber Novus and The Red Book, given his interest in the differentiation of psychological opposites, and their necessary role in generating the reconciling symbol, a subject he was both experiencing and exploring in Liber Novus, especially in Scrutinies (1917-18); in his Systema Mundi Totius (1916); his later mandalas and images in The Red Book and other visual works done between 1917-29; and his theoretical writings between 1914-21.5 Goethe’s principle of systole and diastole, discussed frequently in his writings and mentioned twice in the Doctrine of Colour, is first cited by Jung in October 1916 in connection with introjection and projection,6 and subsequently in Psychological Types: the ‘all-embracing principle of systole and diastole’ is a metaphor for the ‘natural life rhythm’ of the individual’s introverted and extraverted attitudes (1921b:§§4-6, 234, 340).7

LIBER NOVUS Liber Novus originated as a series of dreams, visions, and episodes of active imagination that Jung recorded in his Black Books between 12 November 1913 and 19 April 1914. He began to compose it after the First World War broke out in August 1914, dividing the fantasies into chapters, adding commentaries and lyrical elaborations

5 Jung’s statement ‘To be quite accurate, human nature is just real; it has its light and its dark sides. The sum of all colours is grey—light on a dark background or dark on light’, criticising Schiller’s failure to include the ugly in his conception of the aesthetic, implies a knowledge of Goethe’s colour theory. For Jung, as a result of his Liber Novus experiences, the new definition of beauty must include the lightand the dark sides, the ugly and the beautiful (1921b:§206). See Bishop on Jung, Schiller and the aesthetic (2008, 1:142); Shamdasani, ‘Jung and Schiller’, private seminar 9 September 2018. For the emergence of the reconciling symbol in Jung’s visual works, see Zervas (2019a). 6 ‘Introjection and Projection’, unpublished discussion of the Association for Analytical Psychology, October 1916 (Jung 1916a). 7 Compare Jung’s description with Goethe’s: ‘[…] this is the life of nature, the eternal systole and diastole […]’: (1840:§38); see Bishop (2008,1:104-105).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 31

(Layer 2 in the modern edited text: Shamdasani RB RE:30-33). The first part, originally untitled but implicitly Liber Primus, is introduced by a Prologue, ‘The Way of What is to Come’. In the narrative that follows, Jung’s ‘I’ refinds his soul, and explores her nature, and that of God. He is plunged into a ‘Descent into Hell in the Future’, with its disturbing images of a underground stream where a bloodied blond corpse and a black scarab float by, and a red sun glows in its depths, surrounded by thousands of black serpents. He then murders the German hero Siegfried, after which the ‘Spirit of the Depths’ makes a prophetic announcement of the ‘Conception of the New God’. In the final section, the ‘Mysterium’, his ‘I’ encounters three important figures from the depths, the prophet Elijah and his blind daughter Salome, accompanied by a black serpent. He is instructed by them, and undergoes Christification: made to witness and suffer the crucifixion of Christ in himself. In the much longer Liber Secundus, entitled ‘The Images of the Erring’, Jung’s ‘I’ interacts with many other personifications from the depths, undergoes further initiatory experiences including a type of divine madness, encounters the magician Philemon, who teaches him about magic, and gives birth to the new god in himself. Having completed the handwritten, typed and corrected typed drafts of Liber Novus in 1915, Jung decided to write his ‘precious’ experiences ‘down in a “precious”, that is to say costly, book and to paint the images that emerged through reliving it all’ (Jung, ‘Epilogue’ 1959: RB RE:555). This is The Red Book, the calligraphic version of Liber Novus, which he began in the second half of 1915, and remained intensely engaged with over the next fifteen years. He transcribed the text in a version of German gothic script, and decorated it like an illuminated manuscript, initially employing expensive parchment sheets for Liber Primus, similar to works like the famous Swiss Codex Manesse, with which he was already familiar as a teenager (Art:63, Cat. 8). Possibly daunted by the challenges posed by painting on parchment, he commissioned a large red leather-bound book for Liber Secundus.8 Jung’s decision to design The Red Book like a medieval manuscript was not merely aesthetic, however, but deeply symbolic. At the end of Liber Secundus, he had stated:

An opus is needed, that one can squander decades on, and do it out of necessity. I must catch up with a piece of

8 The physical aspects of The Red Book and its making have been discussed extensively by Mellick (2018, 2019).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 32

the Middle Ages—within myself. We have only finished the Middle Ages of—others. I must begin early, in that period when the hermits died out. (RB RE:457-458).

He alludes to the reasoning for this choice several years later, in Psychological Types, which included his exploration of the opposites in classical and medieval thought. In Chapter V, ‘The Problem of Types in Poetry’, Jung emphasised man’s need to regress to an earlier mode of adaptation when confronted with an impossibly difficult task, and noted that Spitteler’s attempt to return to classical forms in Prometheus and Epimetheus was unsuccessful, because ‘the intervening centuries of Christianity, with their profound tides of spiritual experience, could not be denied’. It was now necessary to turn back to medieval form, as Goethe had done in Faust, with its depiction of the medieval magician who also preserved traces of primitive paganism, and, through his death and rebirth, becomes a reconciling symbol that includes the acceptance of evil and the redemption of the feminine (1923:231-234; 1921b:§§310- 317). This, of course, is what Jung had undertaken in Liber Novus, and emphasised by his choice of pictorial form for The Red Book. In The Red Book, the pages of Liber Secundus are interspersed with images of visions and active imaginations that Jung experienced between 1916 and 1929.9 Some relate to themes included in Scrutinies, the complex third section that Jung planned to add to Liber Novus, which he began working on in late November 1917. Scrutinies incorporated Jung’s fantasies between 19 April 1914 and 1 June 1916, The Seven Sermons to the Dead (1916), reworked sections, and further elaborations and commentaries (Shamdasani in RB RE:45-46).

9 Between 26 January and October 1919, Jung kept the right (odd) pages of The Red Book blank for full-page paintings, and used the left (even) pages for his ongoing transcription of Liber Secundus, which in some cases post-dated the paintings opposite them (LN: odd pages between 103 and 119). He used both sides of the page for three paintings between November 1919 and 4 January 1920 (ibid:121-123), then reserved the odd pages for paintings between 25 January 1920-25 November 1922 (ibid: odd pages between 125-135). He did no full-page paintings in The Red Book between December 1922-December 1923, and only two—‘Philemon’ and ‘The Anima as Altar’ between January 1924 and 14 August 1925 (ibid: 154, 155). The final three full-page paintings in The Red Book date between 9 January 1927 (ibid:159) and 1929 (ibid:163, 169).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 33

COLOUR IN THE TEXTS OF LIBER NOVUS AND THE RED BOOK Liber Novus, 1913-1916 An analysis of the text of Liber Novus confirms that colours appear often in the context of the narrative (Appendix, 1). The text includes many references to blood and bloody, in keeping with the turbulent historical period during which it was composed, and with the themes of sacrifice, death, and rebirth of a new god. Black, white, gold, green, blue, yellow and silver appear frequently. Significant images include black, white and iridescent serpents, a white bird, a black scarab and beetle, a red sun, the Red One, Jung’s ‘I’ as a leafy green man and daimon, a black stranger (Death), a form dark as the earth and black as iron with gold eyes, and a blue shade or Christ (RB RE:174, 194, 212, 216, 262, 263, 388, 413, 537, 551). The text contains lyrical and symbolic evocations of colour. In ‘The Murder of the Hero’ (Liber Primus cap. vii), after Jung dreamed that his ‘I’ and an unknown companion had killed Siegfried, he had a second dream:

I saw a merry garden, in which forms walked clad in white silk, all covered in colored light, some reddish, the others blueish and greenish. (RB RE:162).

Jung interpreted it later, during his interviews with Aniela Jaffé for Memories, Dreams, Reflections:

[T]his dream expressed the idea that he was one thing and something else at the same time. The unconscious reached beyond one, like a saint’s halo. The shadow was like the light- colored sphere that surrounded the people. He thought this was a vision of the beyond, where men are complete. (Protocols:170; RB RE:162).

In ‘The Anchorite’ (Liber Secundus cap. iv), Jung’s ‘I’ encounters a desert monk, and then spends the night in a cave. In the mantic section of Layer 2, he reflects on the solitary:

Dull from the sun and drunk from fermenting wines, you lie down in ancient graves, whose walls resound with many voices and many colors of a thousand solar years. (RB RE:249).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 34

After first meeting Philemon in ‘The Magician’ (Liber Secundus cap. xxi), Jung muses in Layer 2: ‘you shimmered multi-colored and inextricable’ (RB RE:408). Thus by 1915 he envisioned the beyond, the thousand solar years, and Philemon, as multicoloured, evoking the full colour spectrum.10

Fig. 1. Historiated Initial fol.1(r). © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

10 By contrast, in Layer 2 of ‘Remains of Earlier Temples’, Jung likens self-conscious cycles of ‘multiple rebirths’ throughout life to the chameleon (ΧΑΜΑΙ ΛΕΩΝ): ‘prone to changing colours, a crawling shimmering lizard’ which protects itself and hides’, as opposed to the lion, which gives life, and exists from its own force (RB RE:275-276 and n.94).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 35

The Red Book, 1915-1929 A systematic study of the calligraphic script in The Red Book confirms that Jung used colour experimentally and symbolically to emphasise certain aspects of the visual narrative. On the first parchment page, ‘The Way of What is to Come’, he painted the historiated initial ‘D’ an earthy dark red (Fig. 1: RB:fol.i(r); also reproduced in Art:Fig.29 and 244-245). The remaining letters of the title are blue, set against a red background. These contrasting primary colours of red and blue are the first visual clues to one of the important themes in Liber Novus and The Red Book: the appearance of opposites to be united by a reconciling symbol. As in medieval manuscripts, Jung used red letters to highlight certain words in the Biblical texts that prophesy the new god in the opening paragraphs of fol.i(r), such as ‘Isaias’ (Isaiah), ‘et’ (for), ‘despectum’ (despised), and for the entire verse of Isaiah 35: 8, which succinctly prophesies Jung’s ‘Way’:

And an highway shalt be there, and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness: the unclean shalt not pass over it but it shall be for those[:] the wayfaring men, though fools, shalt not err therein. (RB RE:118-119).

Next to this red verse, he identifies himself and dates the folio— common practice for medieval artists—choosing blue for the first letter of ‘manu propria scriptum a C.G. Jung’ (‘written by C.G. Jung with his own hand’) . Thus Jung designated his own ‘hand’ as ‘blue’, in contrast to the ‘red’ words of divine prophecies. On folio i(v) (reproduced in Art:Fig. 30 and 248), Jung employed red letters to indicate the beginnings of paragraphs, and larger red-and-blue letters to denote new sections. He thereby created a red-blue pattern that was further elaborated, or intentionally reversed, in successive chapters of Liber Primus and Liber Secundus.

COLOUR IN THE CHAPTER TITLES OF THE RED BOOK Liber Primus Having presented the opposing values of ‘deep-red’ and ‘blue’ in the letters of ‘The Way That is To Come’, Jung depicted the next seven chapter numbers in blue (cap. + roman numeral), and chapter titles in red, with a

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 36 contrasting colour for the initial (historiated) letters (Appendix, 2). He used blue for those in ‘Refinding the Soul’ (cap. i), and the second of ‘Experiences in the Desert’ (cap. iv); in situations that surprised and challenged Jung’s ego. Gold is employed in a ‘conventional’ way, to denote the highest value, for the historiated initial of ‘Soul’ (cap. ii), where Jung’s ‘I’ asks his Soul: ‘are you God’, and again: ‘Who are you, child?’ […] are you God? Is God a child, a maiden?’.11 However, in keeping with the theme of transvaluation of earlier values, Jung also chose gold for the initial letters of ‘Descent’ (cap. v) and ‘Splitting’ (cap. vi), chapters describing his first active imagination, with its highly disturbing images, and his ‘I’’s shocking realisation that his world differs from the Soul’s and God’s, thereby inverting gold’s symbolic connotation.12 The historiated initial for ‘On the Service of the Soul’ (cap. iii) is painted in earthy red, an appropriate colour to represent Jung’s doubting and fearful ‘I’, ego states that threatened to kill the ‘holy trust’ with his Soul. Jung used it again for the historiated initial of ‘The Murder of the Hero’ (cap. vii), here linking it back to the earthy-red historiated initial on folio i(r) that displays the triumphantly ascending serpent—the new god. The grouping of these episodes into seven chapters suggests the seven days of creation, but in Liber Primus they culminate in a necessary destruction. Within them, red signifies the values of human instinct, emotion and suffering, as Jung’s ‘I’ is made painfully aware of aspects of the Spirit of the Depths, himself and his Soul that he had previously ignored or undervalued whilst living in the Spirit of these Times. The blue lettering of ‘The Conception of the God’ (cap. viii) proclaims a different presiding value. The Spirit of the Depths announces that it has received the ‘sprout’, the new god conceived in Jung’s soul, and prophesises the nature and conditions of its impending birth, referring back to Isaiah’s verses in the Prologue, as does the title’s colour. The final three chapters of Liber Primus form part of ‘The Mysterium’, Jung’s mystery play, evoking the medieval Mystery Plays of Christ’s passion and death. ‘Mysterium’ is lettered in gold, highlighting its supreme importance in this stage of Jung’s initiatory journey. The subtitles of the three chapters are blue, relating them back 11 ‘Who’ is written in blue, ‘are you, child?’ in red, and ‘God’ in blue. Jung is here forced to understand that his God (blue) is a child and a maiden (red) highlighting the incredulity that these images of God, child, and soul are the opposite of his previous convictions, as emphasised in Black Book 2: ‘Should the daughter of man be God’s name?’ (RB RE:131). 12 Transvaluation is an important theme throughout Liber Novus, especially in ‘The Remains of Earlier Temples’ (RB RE:275).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 37

to the ‘Way of What is to Come’, and to ‘The Conception of the God’. Thus, already in Liber Primus, Jung has differentiated the various episodes by the four colour-values used in their titles: earthy red for the new god, bright red for the emotional rediscovery of his soul and for the suffering of his ‘I’ during subsequent trials and tasks, blue for the prophetic and spiritual aspects of Jung’s initiatory journey, and for ‘God’, and gold to signal the highest value, even where unexpected.

Liber Secundus Despite the fact that Jung transcribed parts of Liber Secundus over a longer period of time, his choice of colours for its titles follows a similar pattern. For the majority of the first sixteen chapters, finished by mid- September 1922 (RB RE:360 n.212) he tended to use one colour for the initial letter or historiated initial, followed by a contrasting shade for the remaining letters, as in Liber Primus (Appendix, 2). The eleven chapters that narrate the emotional encounters of his ‘I’ with various personified characters have titles lettered in red, in contrast to the five chapters with blue lettering that recount significant spiritual encounters or challenges: ‘Dies II’, ‘Death’, ‘First Day’, ‘Hell’, and ‘The Sacrificial Murder’ (caps. v, vi, viii, xii, xiii). Jung introduced turquoise, a colour formed by mixing green and blue, into the mosaic historiated initial of ‘Death’.13 From late September 1922, however, he chose black for the main lettering of the five chapter titles of the final section of Liber Secundus chronicling his encounters with black magic, red for the initial letters of caps. xvii— xix and xxi, but green for cap. xx, ‘The Way of the Cross’, where the word becomes the saving symbol of new life (RB RE:391-392).14 Jung bestowed the same attention to the choice of colours he used for the initials of the interlocutors in the dialogue sections of The Red Book (Appendix, 2). Whereas the title colours serve to highlight the general narrative developments and symbolism within each chapter, those for the dialogue initials seem to indicate the differing attitudes of Jung’s ‘I’ and the ‘other’ as he first narrates, then encounters and progressively

13 In the revised version of A Study in the Process of Individuation, Jung noted that for Jakob Böhme ‘[…] “high deep blue” mixed with green, signifies “Liberty”, that is, the inner “Kingdom of Glory” of the reborn soul’ (1934:§555). 14 Green first appeared as a personification of Jung’s ‘I’, whose ‘garment bursts into leaf’, in the text of ‘The Red One’ (LN RE:212-216). It becomes a symbol for natural man in ‘Dies II’ (ibid:262) and daimonic nature in ‘The Remains of Earlier Temples’ (ibid:269, 272-275).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 38

engages with the personifications of his active imaginations (Appendix, 2).

COLOUR IN THE IMAGES IN THE RED BOOK Having examined the patterns in the coloured words, titles and interlocutor initials in The Red Book, there is clear evidence of Jung’s symbolic intent. Turning now to the images, we will explore how Jung experimented with colour in a more sophisticated way, as he moved between simple forms and multifaceted visual works.15 Although colour symbolism is encoded in each Red Book image, I will only focus on some of those related to the themes of instinct and the cosmos, which Jung came to associate with feeling and spirit, expressed archetypically in the values of the colour spectrum.

Liber Primus, 1915 Behind the historiated ‘D’ in ‘The Way of What is To Come’ on fol.i(r), Jung created a scene of the cosmos at the time of the birth of his new god, with its elements, painted according to Goethean colour principles (Fig. 1). At the bottom, the earth’s fiery core radiates heat upwards in darkening layers of yellow, orange, and red (the element of fire; colours of dark over light). Above, the marine-blue sea, with its underwater creatures, gradually lightens in tone, becoming the blue and shallower blue-green waters of a lake. A red-flagged boat sails on its surface, and on the land above Jung painted two walled villages in a valley ringed by pale blue mountains (water and earth; colours of light over dark). Overhead, clouds lighten the blue sky, which darkens into upper space (air; light over dark). The starry region above includes an astrological vision of the coming Aquarian age (Owens 2011:256, 267-75; Greene 2018b:156-68). At its summit, a light blue zodiacal belt snakes above the darkening sky. Glyphs

15 See Éveno (2015), ‘Jung’s “Multicolored Arabesques”: Their Renderings and Intentions in the Pictorial Vocabulary of The Red Book’, which focuses on the different graphic vocabularies employed by Jung in The Red Book; first as related to drawings from natural sciences, pointillist mosaics, ‘runes’, and ‘multicolored arabesques’; then by envisioning the arabesques as forms of ‘dialectic between a fragmented chaos and a restabilizing or reordering, between an organizing factor and the insinuation of metamorphoses’, linking them with psychical representations of physical makeup or ‘skin-ness’, shimmering waters, hidden images, powerful eruptions, and potential for transformation (2015:17, 22). Many of his observations concur, while others differ, from those presented in this article, which––in contrast to Éveno’s general psychological observations––aims to situate Jung’s colour hermeneutics within the textual and historical context of The Red Book itself.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 39

for six of its twelve signs—Cancer to Aquarius—are displayed from left to right, in reverse of their natural order, thus representing the sun’s precession through the vernal equinoxes, each change of sign indicating a new Platonic month or aeon. The golden sun, composed of a sphere and four cross-rays, gleams between the signs of Pisces and Aquarius, the current and future Platonic months.16 To the right below the sun, a gold comet—another celestial omen of impending birth—plunges towards the earth (Jung 1912:§499; 1952:§489). Within the vertical stem of the ‘D’ superimposed on this scene, a serpent—the new god that was born at the end of Liber Secundus— ascends triumphantly from the flames of an earthenware pot decorated with a black phallus.17 Its crowned head is surrounded by three planets—a waning crescent moon on the left, Saturn, the planetary ruler of Aquarius, above, and Jupiter, ruler of Pisces, to the right—a conjunction prophesying chaos, the union of extreme opposites, and the birth of a new aeon.18 Most of the scenes and decoration of the historiated initials in the first five chapters of Liber Primus remain closely related to the unfolding narrative. In the following chapters, however, Jung began to create emblematic images in symbolic colours. Four in particular relate to his research on Gnosticism, Eastern cosmogony, astrology, and psychological types during the autumn of 1915. Significantly, this series begins in cap. viii, ‘The Conception of the God’. Its square historiated initial is a tiny flower mandala, (fol.iv(v) HI

16 Jung first mentions the ancient astrological theory of the precessions and Platonic months in Psychology of the Unconscious (1912:§§186, 308, 683). He referred to it in a letter of September 1929 (1973,1:69), and treated it at length in the Dream Analysis seminars in 1929 (1984:421-31), and the Visions seminars in 1932: (1997,2:727ff). 17 In Psychology of the Unconscious, Jung had cited the ancient metaphor of the sun’s course through the zodiac as a snake carrying the zodiacal signs on its back, which he compared to the Mithraic leontocephalic god, also noting the Manichaean’s attribution of the snake to Christ (1912:185 n.60). He depicted this visually in HI i(r): the ‘great’ zodiacal snake above, and the ascending serpent god with stars over its head. The black and white patterning on its skin symbolises the reconciliation of the opposites of light/good/day/love and dark/evil/night/forethinking, as developed in his Layer 2 commentary on the fight between the white and black serpents in ‘Mysterium. Resolution’ (RB RE:194-195, 199). 18 The waning moon as a symbol of fear, death and destruction is discussed by members of Jung’s 1929 Dream Analysis seminars (1984:371, 381). In Aion, citing the astronomer Albumasar, Jung stressed that the conjunction of the moon and Saturn in medieval times was identified with the age of the Antichrist, and that the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter always ‘signifies theunion of extreme opposites’ (1951:§§130, 131). Owens notes the Saturn-Jupiter conjunction above the serpent in Red Book HI 1(r) (2011:282 n.82).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 40 2; Zervas 2019a:182). The ‘G’ (Gottes, God) is blue, on a red background. In the centre of the space between them, a golden ball with a black circumference emerges. It is enclosed in a larger circle, divided by its eight rays, from which four elongate to form the petal axes. The petals are composed of successive white, pink, rose, and viola segments, the latter three mixtures of white, red, and blue.19 This the first time these colours appear in The Red Book. The historiated initial pictures the emergence of the new god after the death of the hero. Significantly, the god’s conception in the space between spirit (blue) and man (red) blossoms with colours that Jung would later relate to ‘symbolic’ blood and the archetypal image, located at opposite poles of the colour spectrum, rose towards the red end of dynamic emotion and instinct, and viola towards the ultra-violet end of the ‘mystical’ instinctual image (1954:§§384, 414ff). We may thus trace back the ‘germ’ of this idea to Jung’s own artistic choices for fol.iv(v). Jung’s ideas are further developed for the ornamental border that frames the prophetic verses spoken by the Spirit of the Depth on the right column of fol.iv(v).20 Whilst appearing deceptively simple, this is a cosmogonic image, depicting the creation of the cosmos and its elements in time, whose dynamism is emphasised by Jung’s particular choice of colours (Fig. 2: RB:OB fol.iv(v)). At the top, Jung portrayed the cosmic realm. A downward-oriented flow of energies is initiated by two tiny sets of Vs in the corners of the gold background. A white circle, outlined in black, floats in the middle of the space: light and dark. As in the historiated initial, a golden ball emerges from the eternal, invisible mid-point. Eight rays extend from its circumference, forming a new sun. Behind it, an eight-point star fills the white circle. Each arm is a different colour: the star is a refraction of the sun’s light. The arms containing the three primary colours—red, blue and yellow—form an triangle whose yellow apex descends along the vertical axis. It ‘generates’ the triangle of secondary colours—purple, green, and orange—whose purple apex ascends. Because the star has eight rays, Jung added two tertiary colours on the horizontal axis: red-orange (earthy-red) on the left, and blue-green (turquoise), important colours, as we have seen. Below Jung depicts the creation of the earthly realm. A golden

19Although Jung used ready-made ground pigments to produce each of these colours, as discovered by Mellick (2018:114-135, 175-213), he was aware of their compound composition and placement on the colour spectrum. 20 This image is discussed briefly by Éveno, who also suggested that its colours echo Goethe’s research (2015:14).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 41

chalice, symbol of the cosmic crater of rebirth, is set against the chthonic black background, waiting to receive four drops released by the gold star above.21 These solar energies fertilise the contents of the chalice. New ‘sparks’ of eternal fire generate four ribbons of colour—brown, green, blue and red–that emerge from the chalice. They double and divide, then twist together and spiral up on both sides to join the white circle. Their colours represent the four elements: brown signifies earth, green water, blue air, and red fire. They are also related to the zodiac: brown symbolises the three earth signs, green the water signs, blue the air signs, and red the fire signs. 22 Jung was familiar with this interrelated elemental and astrological colour system. In his garden house at Küsnacht, used as an artistic studio in the summers, and also to display mandalas in the 1920s, he decorated the interior south-east cornice with the glyphs of the zodiac, including the ruling planets in red over Aries (Mars), Taurus (Venus), Gemini (Mercury), Aquarius (Saturn) and Pisces (Jupiter), and a yellow sun between Aquarius and Pisces to indicate the current Platonic age (Fig. 3).23 The earth, water, air and fire signs are painted in the same colours as the elemental ribbons in the ornamental border of fol.iv(v). Fig. 2. Ornamental Border In a Children’s Dreams seminar of 1939- fol.iv(v). © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. 1940, Jung noted that the four elements were Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, related to the four astrological (Platonic) months: W.W. Norton & Company, Taurus (matter, stone, earth = brown), Aries (fire Inc. All rights reserved.

21 The crater as a symbol of rebirth appears in the three chapters of ‘Mysterium’ (RB RE:178-79, 184, 196; Jung 1989a:107); also see Kingsley (2018,1:197-198, 204-205). The chalice is a symbol of the Mater Coelestis in Jung’s cosmological sketch and painting of the Systema Mundi Totius in 1916: discussed below. It is related to Gnostic vessel symbolism—the vase of sin and vas sapientiae of Sophia—and the medieval Grail, all symbols of the revaluation of the feminine and the soul (Jung 1923:288-290, 1921b:§§396-398, 1989a:106-107; Kingsley [ibid]). 22 Greene (2018b:23-24) discusses Jung’s knowledge and use of the four elements. 23 Diana Baynes recalled the garden house with its mandalas from a childhood visit in 1924 (Baynes Janson 2003:148-149).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 42

= red), Pisces (water = green), and the coming of the new age, Aquarius (air = blue) (Jung 2008:354-357). 24 Therefore the union of the golden sun’s drops and the primal chaos in the chalice in OB fol.iv(v) has produced the zodiac, which symbolises time. From the Pleroma, the opposites of light and dark have constellated, which then bring forth the coloured cosmos, with the sun, stars, elements, and time.25 It also reflects Jung’s own transformation:

‘Because I have fallen into the source of chaos, into the primordial beginning, I myself become smelted anew in connection with the primordial beginning, which at the same time is what has been and what is becoming’. (RB RE:179).

Fig. 3. Jungʼs Astrological Glyphs, The Garden House, Küsnacht. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich.

Jung develops this cosmic dynamism further in the ornamental border on fol.v(r), which contains the ‘Descendant’ and ‘Ascendant’ 24 Jung viewed this sequence of elemental/astrological stages as an image of a creative process, ‘an emergence from the earth through water, through air, and through fire’, noting that it existed in Pythagorean, Neo-Pythagorean, Neoplatonist and Gnostic philosophy, and that it corresponds to the four stages of individuation: ([winter term 1936/37], 2008:100-101). 25 Themes taken up a few months later, in the initial sketch for Systema Mundi Totius: see below.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 43

houses in Jung’s horoscope (Fig. 4). 26 The two arched ‘houses’ flank the sixteen-rayed sun. On the left (west), a lion, symbol of the zodiacal sign of Leo—and Jung’s natal sign—climbs down from the Descendant house (‘D’). The red glyph of the sun, planetary ruler of fiery Leo–and also Jung’s sun in Leo–is below the ‘D’. To the right (east), the Water- Bearer, symbol of airy blue Aquarius—and Jung’s rising sign—has risen and come out of the Ascendant house (‘O’). Above him is blue Saturn, his planetary ruler, with a waning crescent moon to its left (partly damaged). 27 Saturn’s glyph—also Jung’s Saturn in Aquarius— is beneath the ‘O’, in harmony with the penultimate mantic verse in the text below: ‘the constellation of your birth is an ill and changing star’ (Saturn), which also relates to the gold-crowned serpent—the new god— with the crescent moon and the planet Saturn above it on fol.i(r) (Fig. 1).

Fig. 4. Ornamental Border with Horoscope, fol. v(r) detail. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

26 Discussed extensively by Rossi (2015:38-42). 27 The colours of the planets ruling the zodiacal houses are identical with those of the houses’ elemental signs, i.e. fire (red) and air (blue), as opposed the colours of the seven individual planets, which are related to their respective alchemical metals, such as: the sun gold and Saturn lead (black): Berthelot (1887,1:76-79), a source already known to Jung by 1911 (Jung 1912:137 n.36; see ibid. 1955:§390).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 44

Pictorially Jung has linked the colours of his birth with the conception of the new god in his soul and its birth in the coming Aquarian age. The theme continues in the gold-studded living waters that the Water- Bearer pours from an earth-red jug, which change from red (Leo) to blue (Aquarius) as they flow.28 The lower frame of OB fol.v(r) is decorated with flowers and vines whose colours mirror those of the sun star in OB fol.iv(v) (Fig. 2), anticipating Jung’s later remark that ‘the sun descends into flowers, earth’s answer to solar countenance’ (1936:37, 1953:§99). In the next chapter, ‘Mysterium, Encounter’, Jung expanded the range of symbolic colours he had used in ‘Conception of the God’. The image next to the historiated initial on fol.v(v) is divided into three parts: a central narrative scene, symbolic figures in the side and lower borders, and geometric imagery at the top (Fig. 5). In the narrative section, Elijah, the ‘wise old man’, is clad in blue; Salome, who desires Jung, wears a long red robe; and Jung’s ‘I’ is dressed in an initiate’s tunic of pure white. Jung placed a golden cross above Elijah’s head, a golden circle above Salome’s, and a red globe ringed with purple in the sky above his ‘I’.29 In layer 2, Jung states that Elijah and Salome are images of forethinking and desire, his dominant and inferior functions (RB RE:179- 180). In the image, these qualities are portrayed symbolically in the side and lower borders of the picture. Jung represents forethinking by a blue diagonal square with Elijah’s golden cross at its centre, from which ten sharp blue rays extend like multiple arms of a compass. Desire is fashioned as a red mollusc-like creature with a gold circle in its middle, whose five curling tentacles extend to entwine forethinking’s rays. Each needs the other.30 28 This theme is repeated in Image 123 (4 January 1920, RB:123), where the figure holding the holy caster of water is placed between a red sphere above him (Leo’s red Sun), and a multi-toned blue one below (multi-ringed Saturn, ruler of Aquarius). 29 The ‘red moon’ with its violet halo may be a symbol of the redeemed feminine, transformed from blind pleasure (Salome, Eve) to spiritual love (sighted Salome, Mary) in ‘Mysterium. Encounter’ and ‘Instruction’ ( RB RE:179-182; 189; 568-568; Jung 1989a:104-107). Astronomically, it is a lunar eclipse, caused when the earth moves between the sun and moon. Astrologically it has been associated with the time of Christ’s birth, Crucifixion, and his second coming, as prophesied in the Book of Joel:2,31. This also would fit the narrative in the above two chapters, where Jung is first shown images of Eve, the tree of good and evil, and the serpent, symbolising the Fall of man; and then of Mary and the Christ Child, symbols of man’s redemption through Christ. In the ‘Mysterium’, Jung will undergo Christification; man must become Christ, not imitate him. 30 Salome’s circle and Elijah’s cross are later combined to form the ‘quartered circle’, an image of the reconciling symbol that appears frequently in The Red Book (see

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 45

Their forms are closely related to Jung’s ideas about psychological types as presented to the Psychoanalytical Congress in Munich two years earlier, in 1913.31 His remarks about Wilhelm Worringer’s aesthetic theory are especially relevant. Worringer held that there are two forms of internal force (élan vital, libido) that inspire the artist, which he identified as abstraction and empathy: ‘the urge to empathy finds its gratification in organic beauty’ (Jung’s symbol of desire); whereas ‘the urge to abstraction discovers beauty in the inorganic, the negation of all life in crystalline forms’ (Jung’s symbol of forethinking) (1913:§871).32 Jung portrayed these concepts abstractly in the geometric top border, choosing different coloured diamonds to emphasise dynamic transformation. He placed red diamonds against a blue background on the left, and blue diamonds against a red background on the right.33 Moving inward from these two extremes, the diamonds change colours, moving through viola, light blue, and rose, to become white and gold in the centre: a Goethean progression from dark to light, from the instinctual to the mystical. The examples discussed thus far demonstrate that Jung had developed a sophisticated colour hermeneutic by the time he finished executingLiber Primus in the autumn of 1915. This included his use of black, white, and gold; blue and red–spiritual and instinctual colours–but also related to his initial concepts of introverted thinking and extroverted feeling; the primary, secondary, and two tertiary colours symbolising the sun’s energies; and the four elemental colours related to the creation of the earthly realm, the zodiac and time.

Zervas 2019b). In his writings, Jung associated it with the astrological sign for earth and the sun wheel, symbols of individuation, and the quaternity, which includes the feminine ([6 November 1929] 1984:341-342 [9 December 1931], 1997,1:500, 1938:88-89, 1958:§§125- 126). It is also related to the mandala (Zervas 2019a). 31 See also Sherry (2010:18-19). 32 At the Polzeath seminar, Jung explicitly identified blue with Logos and red with Eros, and man and woman, noting however, that ideally there should be a mixture of blue and red in the human. He added an explanation that is clearly based on the side and lower borders in Image fol.v(v): ‘(. . .) beyond the man is Logos, formal principle, crystallizing power; behind the woman, relations and relatedness–Eros. [. . .]Logos is not just reaching out, it is the principle of crystallization, a giving form to, while Eros is creating in relation to, a dynamic reaching out [. . .] [Logos] is thought on the principle of crystallization. The crystal is growing, but from itself, rather than reaching out. Eros is like an animal that moves towards’ (Jung/ Members 1923:63-65). Sonu Shamdasani alerted me to this unpublished typescript. 33 See also Éveno (2015:18-19).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 46

Fig. 5. Elijah, Salome, Serpent and Jung’s ‘I’, Image, fol.v(v). © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 47

LIBER SECUNDUS, 1915-1929/59 The visual images in Liber Secundus offer many avenues for exploring Jung’s evolving colour hermeneutics over the next fourteen years. In this section, however, I will focus on three significant and interrelated themes: the disintegration and re-formation that accompany the birth of a new god; cosmic energies; and the ancestral souls.34

Images of Disintegration and Re-formation, late autumn and winter 1915 The historiated initial ‘D’ for ‘The Images of the Erring’, which visually introduces Liber Secundus, is set in a square. The background depicts the four elements as embedded in the natural world (RB:1; reproduced in Art:251 and Fig. 73). Jung painted a light blue sky, and waves of blue water that sink into the multi-toned strata of earth. The upper layers around the ‘D’ are static, but a tectonic force at the bottom has thrust four of them upwards, causing fragmentation. 35 The cracking is most intense within the black ‘D’. This area surrounds a heavily lined, hieroglyphic left eye with a gold cornea, red iris, and black pupil, whose midpoint is the centre of the square. A chthonic inner eye, it ‘envisions’ the seismic shift necessary for change: a mystical red sun that generates disintegration and the new world. 36 The intitial’s 34 The following colour analysis is deliberately detailed, in order to stress the dynamic emergence, rather than fixed nature, of Jung’s colour hermeneutics during this period, and to honour his acute attention to the smallest coloured details, as confirmed by Mellick’s studies of Jung’s pictorial and chromatic techniques (2018, 2019). 35 See also Owens (2011:266); Éveno also discusses the theme of fragmentation (2015:8, 10-11). 36 In a Dream Analysis seminar, Jung mentioned the myth of one-eyed Horus, who sacrificed his left eye to his father Osiris [Ra], whose left eye had been blinded by seeing evil; Jung therefore associated Horus with ‘vision, view and healing’ ([26 June 1929] 1984:285, 684). In the Visions seminars he stated that by Horus’s sacrifice, the god received, like one-eyed Wotan, ‘the wisdom of the earth’. Jung also described an Egyptian myth of the left eye of the goddess that is penetrated by the sun god in the autumn (the sun returning to the womb), the eye thus becoming an entrance to the dark underworld. From the Eastern point of view, however, Jung countered that the eye—an organ that symbolically creates light, rather than receiving it—is a creator, ‘an expression that covers the creative fact within’ ([18 March 1931] 1997,1:295-296, 304-305). I have been unable to trace Jung’s source, which differs from the myth of the ‘Eye of Horus’ torn out by Set, restored by Hathor or Thoth, and offered by Horus to his dead father in an attempt to resurrect him, which symbolises protection and immortality, and is represented by the wadjet. Jung placed a golden ‘left eye’ of Horus on the solar

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 48

stem contains a symbolic circulatory system with intertwining blue veins and red arteries. Its ‘heart’ lies in the same horizontal zone as the left eye, thus they are invisibly connected.37 In the curved section of the ‘D’, new life, a yellow-flowering vine, grows from a cracked layer below.38 As a totality, this historiated initial complements Jung’s paradoxical use of Jeremiah’s accompanying verses, which warn the faithful against false prophets, who ‘speak a vision of their own heart’, saying ‘I have dreamed, I have dreamed. How long shall this be in the heart of the prophets that prophesy lies?’ (RB RE:211). In Psychological Types, they comprised part of Jung’s critique of Christianity, which had rejected as ‘otiose and worthless’ all individual fantasies after Christ’s era (1921b:§81). In ‘The Images of the Erring’ that comprise Liber Secundus, Jung reclaimed them. He speaks the prophetic visions experienced by his own heart, destructive of older ones but necessary for the creation of a new god, leaving the post-Christian reader to sort the chaff from the wheat.39 The fragments from the striated layers of HI 1 are ‘recycled’ for the historiated ‘E’ of cap. iii, ‘One of the Lowly’(RB:HI 11; reproduced in Art:252). Jung reshaped them into asymmetrical polygons that point toward the ‘E’. Moving inward, the shards diminish in size, then coalesce into minute tesserae in the four elementary colours, packed into tightening spiral curves. Whereas HI 1 represents a destructive process—from petrified order to chaotic fragmentation— this image presents a counter movement—from fragmented chaos towards elementary order—governed by an invisible centripetal force. In the historiated initial and image that Jung created for cap. vi, ‘Death’, the re-ordering process continues (RB:HI 29;

barque in two of the ‘Incantation’ series (RB:55, 64), and on two boats in a painting he made in 1919 (Art: Cat. 59 ‘Spheric Vision IV’). 37 Jung depicted the heart as a mirror image, with its right (blue) and left (red) sides reversed, still typical in medical illustrations. As part of the sympathetic nervous system, Jung’s systolic/diastolic image, together with the ‘left’ eye, are the visual antecedents (and reminders) of his later comment that the sympathetic nervous system is connected with something psychic; as in HI 1, it sees ‘with the eye of the depth’ ([29 May 1929] 1984:236 and n.5). 38 In Jung’s initial sketch for this page (RB:363), the water flows down through the initial’s stem to irrigate the tree that grows above the ‘left’ eye, clearly identified as such by the tear duct in its right corner (left in the drawing). 39 In Baynes’s translation of Psychological Types, the following phrases in Jeremiah’s verses are italicised: ‘vision of their own heart’, and ‘I have dreamed’, emphasising the images of vision (the hieroglyphic ‘left eye’) and heart (the blue-red heart of the ‘circulatory system’) (Jung 1923:71).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 49

reproduced in Art:252). The lower part of the main scene illustrates the text’s description of a new red sun forming in the dark sea:

Blood and fire mix themselves together in a ball—red light erupts from its smoky shroud—a new sun escapes from the bloody sea, and rolls gleamingly toward the uttermost depths— it disappears under my feet. (RB RE:264).

In the painting, the red sun is encircled by rings of orange and red, and then by the two ‘noble’ compound colours of rose and viola, surrounded by a purple sea. In the text, the sun had vanished beneath his suspended ‘I’, but Jung chose a new subject for the visual image. A black beetle, like the one in ‘Descent into Hell of the Future’ in Liber Primus (Image fol. iii(v) 1: reproduced in Shamdasani 2018:66), now emerges from the sun, its fearsome face painted in the ‘old’ alchemical colours of the redemptive opus: black, white, yellow and red.40 In the surrounding borders, the tesserae from HI 11 have become elementary geometric shapes used to construct the stick figures and other objects that represent incubation, rebirth and ascent. 41 He expanded the palette to include the colours of the multi- coloured star in ‘The Conception of the New God’ in Liber Primus (Fig. 2). Jung’s extraordinary attention to symbolic detail and balanced opposites is evident in HI 32 (RB:32, also reproduced in Art:253), where blue, turquoise and gold tesserae make up the background of the circle that contains two egg-like forms, similar to those in HI 11. They are a contrasting pair: light and dark brothers. A mosaic Cabir, clad in red and white garments and a white pointed hat, nestles in the upper left ‘egg’, surrounded by earth-toned tesserae, encased in a double shell of pink, rose, and viola ones. Jung painstakingly reversed the colour sequence in the lower right ‘egg’, the Cabir is given blue clothing and a black hat; pink, rose, and viola tesserae surround it. 40 Jung would have known about the ancient (synonymous with alchemical) colours from Berthelot, Collection des Anciens Alchemistes Grecs, which cited their origins (1887,1:144, 216); Herbert Silberer, Probleme der Mystik und ihre Symbolik (1914); and possibly from having attended Théodore Flournoy’s 1912 lectures at the University of Geneva on a psychological interpretation of alchemy (RB RE:86). Black, red, and yellow are the predominant colours in Jung’s vision in ‘Descent into Hell of the Future’ (RB: Image fol. iii(v) 2). He called them the four ‘fundamental’ colours when describing the 16 circles of ‘rotating cosmic principles’ in Red Book mandala 105, reproduced anonymously in The Secret Of The Golden Flower (1931b:138; changed to ‘the four primary colours’ in 1938:Plate A6). 41 See Zervas (2019a:183-84).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 50

Interlude: The Cosmological Sketch and Systema Mundi Totius, 1916 Sketch On 16 January 1916, Jung’s soul instructed him about a new cosmology (Appendix C in RB RE:577-582). He elaborated it in the Seven Sermons to the Dead, written between 30 January and 8 February, and published privately later that year in a first attempt to communicate his ideas to a select group of colleagues. As in 1900, when Jung had made a diagram of concentric circles to illustrate the mystic cosmology of good and evil forces revealed to Helene Preiswerk (1902:§§65-69 and text Fig. 2), so sixteen years later he did an annotated sketch of his new cosmology, with six concentric circles to delineate the different zones revealed by his soul. He used lapis and black ink, and highlighted some parts in red, blue, yellow and black crayon (Shamdasani 2012:122-123; Art: Cat. 42, 117; Zervas 2019a:183). Jung divided the circumference of the innermost circle—that of the threefold soul (snake, man, bird) and Mankind (Anthropos)—vertically into two halves. In keeping with the colour symbolism already developed in The Red Book, he used red crayon to highlight the side containing the chthonic forces of snake/earth soul on the left, and blue for the spiritual forces of bird/heavenly soul on the right side. Ten blue rays form a star within the circle, the symbol of the individual and the one God, which is surrounded by yellow: the ‘shining’ clouds (RB RE:577-578, 580-581). The 2nd circle, labelled Man (Homo) is uncoloured. Jung continued the red/left–blue/right differentiation in the 3rd circle of daimons (Daemons). Red highlights the left (sinister) energies–Phallus (the Devil), devils (the arrows), and the two flames of Eros on its vertical axis. The right (dexter) spiritual elements–the Mater Coelestis (Heavenly Mother), and the cup-like angels are reinforced in blue. Within the 4th circle of terrestrial heaven and earth, Jung used black ink for the astrological glyphs of Earth, mother of the Devil and the Heavenly World. He continued this for the 5th circle of the gods (Dii), where only the glyph for the sun is coloured in red. Jung divided the 6th circle—the first distillation of opposites from the undifferentiated Pleroma—vertically into black (dark) and yellow- gold (light) halves. The colours are repeated for the spheres on the horizontal axis: black emptiness (Spatium inane) on the left, deep yellow fullness (Vis Plenum) on the right, colours which repeat the upper and

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 51

lower backgrounds of OB fol.iv(v); thus linking their cosmic meaning.

The Systema Mundi Totius painting During September 1916, Jung had further discussions with his soul regarding his new cosmology. She explained the meaning of certain symbols that had appeared in the Seven Sermons to the Dead. Abraxas is ‘the drive, who grows out of the Pleroma’. The individual is first a plant, without flowers and fruits, who grows from Abraxas’s head. The individual is ‘a passageway to the tree of seven lights; a ‘precursor of the tree of light’. When the individual has been reunited with the world, with Abraxas, the tree of light appears, from which the light, Phanês, blossoms forth and flies ahead (RB RE:537 n.125). Jung then sketched her description on 15 October 1916, (reproduced in Art: Cat. 43; Zervas 2019a:183-184). 42 Shortly thereafter, he decided to create a visual summa of his unfolding personal cosmology—the Systema Mundi Totius painting, incorporating elements from the Seven Sermons and the sketch (RB:364; reproduced in Shamdasani 2012:125; Art: Cat. 41, 116-118). After further reflections, in the autumn of 1917 he integrated the Seven Sermons to the Dead into Scrutinies, adding commentaries by Philemon and further editorial embellishments (Shamdasani 2012:121-123). As Jung elucidated in 1955, the System Mundi Totius is a complex cosmological and psychological mandala (RB RE:561-562). In contrast to the six concentric circles of the cosmological sketch, Jung used three sets of seven concentric rings set around a centre circle in the Systema Mundi Totius.43 Each seven-circle set represents a different macrocosm: repetitions that Jung described in 1955 as ‘endless in number, growing even smaller until the innermost core, the actual microcosm, is reached’ (ibid.). Significantly, the colour symbolism is also more elaborate. Jung added green, orange, two shades of blue, and gold to the original four alchemical colours used in the sketch, in order to depict the Systema’s complex

42 In the ‘individuation’ sequence Jung drew in his diary, he substituted the black beetle from the historiated initial in ‘Death’ in Liber Secundus (RB:29) for Abraxas, topped by the tree of life, the seven-branched tree of light, and the winged egg carrying Phanês, standing, with outstretched arms. He subsequently carved a variant in wood, and also had the motif engraved in agate and mounted on a broach for his wife (Art: Cats. 44, 47). 43 See Jeromson (2005/6) for an introductory study of the relationship between the Seven Sermons to the Dead and the Systema Mundi Totius. Greene (2018a:142-176) attempts to interpret the Systema in terms of Jung’s horoscope.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 52

energies, and differentiate chromatically its cosmic and human elements. In analysing the Systema, we will follow the order of the Seven Sermons, which begin with the Pleroma and move inward to the Soul, Man, and the Self. The outermost, 7th circle represents the first set of differentiation from the unbounded Pleroma. 44 Jung divided it diagonally, into four quarters, whereas in the sketch it had only been divided into halves. The left quarter and its sphere on the horizontal axis (labelled inane) are black. The right quarter is yellow, but its sphere (labelled plenam) is white. Thus, following his colour hermeneutic, Jung used black and white for the primary opposites of emptiness and fullness, and black and yellow to represent dark and light, as he had two years earlier, for OB fol.iiii(v) in Liber Primus (Fig. 2). Jung then subdivided the top and bottom quarters of the 7th circle into two halves, enabling him to create a ‘diabolic’ red segment on the left sides, and adding a reddish-orange segment—formed by mixing ‘full’ yellow + ‘diabolic’ red—on the right sides; labelling the latter ‘the major external world’ (mundus exterior maior). As we have seen, Jung had already used this compound colour for similar symbolic purposes in The Red Book, beginning with its first historiated initial in 1915 (Fig. 1). The figure of Abraxas is also more fully detailed in the Systema painting.45 Indeed, this remains Jung’s most complete rendering of the chthonic god, whom he here labelled ‘ruler of the earthly world’ (dominus mundi). Chthonic colours enhance Abraxas’ image and symbolise his position within the cosmos. Described as the ‘God above God’, ‘the effect of differentiation’ (RB RE:517 ,522), Jung placed Abraxas at the lower end of the vertical axis, the only god in the 7th circle. His black tail writhes between its diabolical and earthly segments, then his body, changing from blue to green, rises into the 6th circle of the gods (dii), where his brown- maned lion-head is crowned by a huge 10-rayed gold star that extends through terrestrial and heavenly realms into the 4th circle of the daimons. Erikapaios Phanês (ΗΡΙΚΑΠΑΙΟΞ ΦΑΝΗΣ), Jung’s new god and ruler of the spiritual world, occupies the opposite apex of the vertical axis, in the 6th circle, a red figure with outspread arms, enclosed in a white egg with gold wings.46 Abraxas and Phanês are surrounded by 44 This circle is related to Sermons 1 and 2, which explain the Pleroma, creation, differentiation, God and devil: (RB RE:508-514). 45 Abraxas is explained in Sermons 2 and 3 (RB RE:517-518; 520-522). 46 The figure of Phanês with outstretched arms is similar to one Jung made for the lower left border of the historiated initial Death in Liber Secundus (RB:HI 29), and to his diary sketch. Both fit the classical description of Phanês inThe Psychology of the Unconscious (1912:§223). See Shamdasani (RB RE:358-359 n.211) for a discussion

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 53

six golden stars, the gold Sun (deus sol) on the right, and the quartered black Satanic moon goddess (dea luna satanas) on the left.47 As in The Red Book, Jung uses gold to signify the highest value—here the gods. Jung’s design for the 5th circle, earth and heaven, is also more elaborate than the sketch. He divided it vertically: as in the relevant sections of The Red Book, using green for ‘mother nature or earth’ (mater natura s[ive] terra) and its sphere on the left side, and the light blue for ‘heaven’ (coelum) and its sphere on the right. 48 Within the 4th circle of the daimons (daemones), as in his sketch, Jung included the phallus (diabulus) on the left side, and the heavenly mother (mater coelestis) on the right. However, the images are more complex than those in the sketch: both are doubled. There are two phalli: a red one, whose shaft points inward, and a blue one, whose shaft points outward. Jung has painted them in the colours of devilishness and heavenliness. Similarly, there are now two chalices. In the sketch, the blue chalice faces upward, but here, a gold chalice faces inward, its base conjoined with a red chalice facing outward. Their designs illuminate the instruction on sexuality and spirituality in Sermon 5: ‘the sexuality of man is more earthly (the red phallus pointing inward), that of woman is more spiritual (the blue phallus pointing outward). . . .The spirituality of man is more heavenly, it moves toward the greater (the red, outer chalice). The spirituality of woman is more earthly, it moves toward the smaller’ (the inner gold chalice, relating back to the gold chalice in Fig. 2, OB vol.iv(v) (RB RE:528-29). On the lower vertical axis of the 4th circle of the daimons, above Abraxas, Jung added the tree of life (labelled vita), described as a devil-god in Sermon 4, and as a symbol of the individual-as-plant by Jung’s soul in September 1916. It occupies the entire space of the 4th circle; its roots rise from the 5th circle of earth and heaven, and its crown abuts the perimeter of the 3rd circle. To the left of the tree of life, Jung put a brown (earthly) beetle, similar to the two black ones in The Red Book (fol.iii(v) and Image 29), accompanied by a brown and white larva on the right. Above the larva Jung has written a description of this triad: ‘human body and the one god and the interior, microcosmic world. death and future life’ (corpus humanum et deus monos et mundi interiors minoresque. mors et vita futura). On the upper axis of the 4th circle of the daimons, Jung

of Phanês in the published excerpts of the Black Books, and Zervas (2019b:74-76) for Jung’s later images of Phanês in The Red Book and other visual works. 47 Explained in Sermon 4 (RB RE:523-526). 48 Explained in Sermon 5, on the church and holy communion (RB RE:528-530).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 54

placed the tree of light, another devil-god. Its colour composition is a microcosmic recreation of the first differentiations of the Pleroma: the six black branches carry white flames (emptiness and fullness), whereas a yellow|red|orange|gold flame, labelled ‘fire [of] Eros’ (ignis eros) reaches upward from the central branch toward the spiritual world of Phanês (darkness and light). Facing the flame of Eros, still in the4th circle of the daimons, Jung added two composite creatures not previously included in the Systema sketch or the Seven Sermons. On the left (earthly) side is science, (scientia), imaged as a brown mouse with green dotted, blue butterfly wings. On the right, heavenly side, art(ars) is depicted as a gold-winged, green-and-blue segmented salamander, a motif Jung had earlier used to fill the background behind Izdubar (RB:36).49 Both unite the opposites of above (wings) and below (burrowing into the earth, the amphibious ability to bridge water and earth, and symbolic rebirth from fire). That Jung included science and art in the Systema indicates his relativization of them in the individuation process (i.e. nature and art, as opposed to his earlier assertion of nature over art) by late 1916, thus confirming, as he subsequently stated, that they are both ‘servants of the creative spirit, which is what must be served’.50 In his sketch, Jung had written ΑΓΑΠΗ over the red flame in the lower part of the 3rd circle of daimons, and solitudo over the flame in the upper part. For the Systema, however, he decided to dedicate an entire new circle to Love, based on the discussion of sexuality and spirituality, community (warmth) and singleness (light) in Sermon 5 (RB RE:528-530). Jung labelled the left, yellow half of this 3rd circle ‘heat, or natural (i.e. human/earthly) love’ (calor s[ive] amor naturalis). The right half, ‘cold, or the love of God’ (frigus s[ive] amor dei), is coloured dark blue to differentiate it from the light blue used for the heavenly half of the 5th circle. In Goethean terms, it would represent deep blue space. On the right horizontal axis, the white bird (labelled spiritus sanctus), flies towards the chalices of the heavenly mother. Jung chose a flesh-toned pink for the nd2 circle of Man. As he explained in 1955, this colour signifies ‘the body or blood’ (RB RE:561). A gold- spotted, black serpent, whose colours unite light and dark, twists up on the left horizontal axis, circling behind the shaft of the red phallus. Thus the 49 In 1955, Jung described it as a winged serpent, undoubtedly drawing on his alchemical knowledge, wherein winged salamanders, serpents, and dragons were often used interchangeably. See Greene for the astrological symbolism of the winged dragon- salamander in the Systema and Izdubar image (2018a:38-39). 50 As said to Erika Schlegel in March 1921: see Shamdasani’s discussion of Jung’s attitude towards art during this period (RB RE:33-37). In 1955 Jung reiterated that ‘art and science also belong to this spiritual realm’ (RB RE:560).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 55

serpent/half-human soul/daimon of sexuality comes forth from the 2nd circle of Man, whereas the dove/half-human soul/daimon of spirituality flies up from the dark blue half of the 3rd circle, that of cold, spiritual love. 51 The 1st circle in the Systema is related to the innermost circle of the preliminary sketch. It encloses a 38-rayed blue star, superimposed over a 39-rayed gold one: the juxtaposition of Man’s inner star and the distant star of the one God.52 Jung repeated this sequence of seven circles twice more, but reversed them vertically, first with the realm of Abraxas above and Phanês below, and then vice versa, before reaching the 8th circle in the centre of Systema. It is divided into quarters and eighths, of the same six colours as the circumference of the outermost circle of the painting: black to the left (dark) quarter, yellow to the right (bright) one, and subdivided into red|orange eighths at the top and bottom segments.53 In 1955 Jung explained that this circle is ‘the innermost core, the actual microcosm’ (RB RE:561). It is surrounded by the 8-rayed blue star of the individual, and the 8-rayed gold star of the one God.

The Cosmos and the Ancestral Souls, 1917-1929/59 Cosmic Elements, February-June 1917 Following the Systema painting, Jung continued to experiment with cosmic themes during the first half of 1917, but in a more abstract way. Images 72 and 79, completed between February and early June

51 The white bird and the serpent are discussed in Sermon 6 (RB RE:530-531). 52 Explained in Sermon 7 (RB RE:534-535). The total of 77 rays may have had a symbolic significance for Jung. It is a repetition (7,7) of the 7 cosmological circles of the Systema’s macrocosm, which are repeated three times (7,7,7). See also the soul’s description of seven as ‘the general and encompassing’, and the seventh light as signifying the stars, on 25 September 1916 (RB RE:536 n.125). In Philemon’s ‘teaching’ on Sermon 4 in Scrutinies {9}, he mentions the slaughter of the 7,777 cattle for which the dead have failed to atone (a fourfold repetition of 7: RB RE: 527). The symbolism of seven is extensively annotated Book II, Chapter X of Agrippa of Nettesheim’s The Three Books of Occult Philosophy, which Jung owned. Its concluding quote by Livy seems especially relevant: ‘The seventh light is come, and then all things/ To absolve the father of all light begins,/The seventh’s of all things original,/The first seventh, seventh seven we call/Perfect, with wandering stars the heaven’s [e]volved,/ And with as many circles is round rolled’ (2017:273). 53 Harms (2011:153 and n.23) proposed a different symbolic meaning for the colours in the Systema painting. Although he subsequently described the quarters of its innermost circle as green (left), orange (right) and red (above and below) (idem. 2016:130), digital enlargement confirms that they mirror precisely the colours and the order in which Jung divided the circumference of the outermost circle.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 56

1917, illustrate Jung’s analogy between cosmic creation and the dynamic process in the psyche, by which irregular elements are formed in the deep unconscious, then assume rhythmic patterns, from which—through the four dimensions of space and time—the constituent shapes of the conscious individual arise.54 As before, his choice of colours heightens their symbolic meanings. In Image 72 (Fig. 6), the cosmic matrix—undulating waves of square and trapezoidal elements in alternating shades of black and grey—is divided at regular intervals by six oscillating bands of smaller black and gold particles. Three pairs of vertical cones emerge from this medium.55 The two outer pairs are composed of an upper blue cone and a larger, lower green one. They expand away from each other, their apexes separated by a minute black dot.56 Conversely, the two centre cones expand inwards: the large upper yellow-orange cone faces the small lower red one. Thus, despite the vertical symmetry of their placement, the cones’ dimensions and positioning energise the painting. Jung’s use of colour gradations reinforces this sense of dynamism and complexity. Like Goethean colours emerging from light and dark, the cones are lightest at their apexes. Their segments increase

54 As such, they represent Jung’s attempts to portray visually some of the themes in several seminal essays he wrote in late 1916 (Jung:1916a; 1916b; 1917). 55 The cones are arranged on three vertical axes set approximately 5 cm apart. The upper blue cones and lower red cone are 11cm long, but have different circle diameters (5cm and 4cm). The upper orange cone and lower green cones are different lengths (15.5cm and 14cm), but share the same circle diameter (6cm). Cones form an important theme in The Black Books, Liber Novus, and some Red Book paintings. They make their first visual appearance in Image 72, form the black and white background of Image 75 (completed before June 1917), dominate the decoration of the back wall of Image 115 (1919), form the core of Image 121, and serve as the base of a wooden figure Jung sculpted ca. 1920 (Art: Cat. 46). 56 Image 72 appears to be the pictorial antecedent to a discussion in Black Book 7 between Jung’s ‘I’ and the black magician Ha about runes on 7 October 1917. Ha describes the upper and lower cones with their respective suns, explains that if their apexes meet they cannot be separated, and that he has therefore put a hard seed between them (RB 2012:325 n.155 referring to the runes in Image 89). On 3 June 1918, Jung’s soul describes Philemon himself as ‘the incorruptible seed of nothingness, which falls accidentally through space. The seed is the beginning, younger than all other beginnings, older than all endings’ (ibid:372 n.230), strikingly similar to the cosmic dynamic of Image 72. Jung further amplified its meaning in the inscription to Image 121, the Lapis Philosophorum, dated November 1919 (where it refers to the tiny black diamond in the middle of that painting that separates four white, and black, diagonal cones): ‘it is the incorruptible seed that lies between the father and the mother and prevents the heads of both cones from touching: it is the monad which countervails the Pleroma (ibid:372 n.229).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 57

in tonal density as they expand towards the viewer, before pooling into circular rims of green, blue, red and burnt orange, the elemental colours of water, air, fire and earth.57 The cones’ terminating circles are cross-sections of their graduated colour tones, spiralling inwards from dark to light, thereby uniting their centres with their apexes.

Fig. 6. Image 72. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

Jung transformed this dynamic process into a symmetrical

57 With their elemental colours, the cones seem symbolic of creation in time-space: the blue cones (air) ascend, the green ones (water) descend, their doubling suggestive of their elemental predominance, the gold-orange cone descends (earth) and the red one (fire) ascends.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 58

totality in Image 79 (Fig. 7). The cosmic matrix is formed of the same elements, but they now move towards the centre in centripetal patterns. The multiple gold and black bands in Image 72 have coalesced into a giant ring, too big to be fully contained on the page. Within its space, smaller elements in lighter tones form the circumference of a second circle, within which third one is formed from larger trapezoidal rectangles in the four elemental and astrological colours, reminiscent of Red Book HI 11. Four tangent circles emerge from its inner perimeter, outlined by tesserae alternating in the four colours. Moving from multiplicity to singleness, Jung then filled each inner circle with irregular polyhedrons in modulated tones of one elemental colour: orange, red, blue, green. Finally, he created a star-like cluster of irregular gold and black tesserae in the inner ‘vessel’ space between the four tangent circles. Image 79 is Jung’s first full-page ‘mandala’ in The Red Book. It was completed months before the mandala sketches that he drew at Chateau d’Oex over the summer of 1917, and subsequently painted— replete with black and golden seeds—in The Red Book during the following autumn and 1918. A cosmic mandala, it relates back to the earlier image of dynamic creation that Jung represented in the ornamental border for ‘The Conception of the God’ in the autumn of 1915 (Fig. 2). Whereas the latter provides a vertical viewpoint, in Image 79 Jung presents a cross-sectional view of the cosmic vessel, formed within the outer rings that have differentiated themselves from the Pleroma, whose black and gold seeds ‘spark’ the four elemental circles into life.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 59

Fig. 7. Image 79. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

This vision of cosmic energies and formation fits Jung’s

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 60

subsequent description of the mandala in a Dream Analysis seminar, as a ground plan of the structure of the psyche, whose psychological constituents he likened to the four elements, and the four gates of consciousness (29 January 1930, 1984:453). 58 He called these elements Mendelian units, the remnants of our ancestral souls (1984:453-454). 59 Jung expanded this analogy in a 1938 Zarathustra seminar, abetted by his increased alchemical knowledge, in a way that perfectly describes Image 79. He portrays the psyche as a disjointed puzzle, sometimes represented in dreams ‘by the motif of a swarm of small particles’, disparate elements that need to be reunited. This process ‘begins with the idea of totality, which is depicted as a circle’, which is called ‘chaos’—the massa confusa—that consists of a chaotic collection of dissimilar elements:

The symbolic idea is to arrange the particles in a sort of crystal-like axis, which is called the quaternity […], and to each point a particular quality is given. The four quarters of the circle indicate the fire, the air, the water, and the earth regions, and when they are arranged they will make in the center the quinta essentia, the fifth essence. […] It is again 58 This seminar appears to be the first time that Jung related the four colours of the Buddhist mandala (red, blue, yellow, and green) to the ‘modern’ colours preferred by his patients for active imagination, rather than the four ‘fundamental’ or ‘ancient’ colours of white, black, yellow and red, or the ‘elemental’ colours of green, orange, red, and blue. The ‘modern ’or ‘basic’ colours, which Jung also called the four colours of the rainbow, represent the four typological functions (respectively feeling, thinking, intuition and sensation). When joined together they form a totality whose synthesis symbolises the integration of the personality (Jung 1934:§582; 1936:113 and 1953:§287; 1937:12, 19 and 1955:§390; 1939:164, 167, 185-186). Although citing his patients’ material, Jung clearly had his Red Book images in mind (1931b:138 nos. 3, 6, 10 and Plates 3, 6, 10 and 1968:Plates A3, A6, A10). 59 Jung first mentioned Mendelian concepts inPsychology of the Unconscious (1912:§361 n.50). He referred to Mendelian units as constituent elements of the psyche numerous times between 1925-1938, particularly in his seminars ([20 April 1925] 1989a:39; [16 October 1929] 1984:311-312; [20 January 1930] 453-454; 1931a:§§140- 141; [31 January 1934] 1997,2:1266; [30 October 1935] 1989b,1:643; [10 June 1936], 1989b,2:986; [9 November 1938] 1399-1403; [1936/37 term] 2008:73-74. They are described as ancestral souls in the ETH seminars ([15 December 1933] 2019b:78), and as traits or elements of ancestral character requiring integration his 1936 Baily Island Seminar (2019a:173, 202-203). Jung continued to employ this analogy throughout his career, including Memories, Dreams, Reflections: ‘Our souls as well as our bodies are composed of individual elements which were all already present in the ranks of our ancestors. The “newness” in the individual psyche is an endlessly varied recombination of age-old components. Body and soul therefore have an intensely historical character and find no proper place in what is new, in things that have only just come into being’ (Jung/Jaffé 1963:223).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 61

that circle of the beginning but this circle has now the anima mundi, the soul of the world, which was hidden in chaos […], and the self is the quinta essentia. (1989b,2:1400-1402).

The cosmic and psychological aspects of Image 79 are further amplified by Jung’s comments during a Protocol interview in 1958. He began by recounting a dream by a patient (then deceased) of a shawl edged with real gold, whose centre was decorated with gold discs or sparks, as if struck from an anvil, that scattered and then came together again, as if created anew. This dream reminded him of his early mandalas, ‘where black magnetite (magneteisen) seeds and gold seeds were mixed, and must be brought together in the central vessel that is the self’. The black seeds, as magnetite, ‘come from the sky’; they are ‘meteorite iron’, ‘particles [that] attract’. The gold seeds between them are ‘brilliant elements, luminous particles in the dark material’. Psychologically, Jung explained, ‘the dark particles are without libido or consciousness, and the bright, golden [particles] are the original elements of consciousness’, that can’t be detected at first, but will become visible in the daylight. Their energies can suddenly generate an image, which then can be integrated, ‘forming the foundation of the vessel [of the self]’. Jung also related them to the mosaics at the 5th century tomb of Galla Placidia in Ravenna, ‘a place where these gold clumps exploded and came together’ (Protocols [20 March 1958]:333- 335).60 He was undoubtedly referring to the mosaic in the central crossing of the Greek-cross building, which depicts a circular, inward and outward swirling pattern of eight-rayed, gold stars set against a deep blue background (almost black when viewed from below), with the Four Evangelists in the corners, and a gold Latin cross in the centre—a Christian mandala (Fig. 8).

60 Jung visited the tomb of Galla Placidia in 1913, 1914, and 1923. Following Red Book Images 72 and 79, he continued to experiment with the motif of black and gold seeds in the series of mandala paintings based on his sketches, Images 79-96, completed between October 1917 and early 1918. In the section of Scrutinies {12} that he added to the 7th Sermon to the Dead in the late autumn of 1917, Philemon explains to Jung’s ‘I’ that he has saved life—as duration and eternal being, ‘the black and golden seed and its blue starlight’—from time, ‘the fire that flares up, consumes, and dies down (RB RE:536). Jung had already chosen black, gold and blue as colour signifiers of duration and eternal being for the abstract decoration within the historiated initial for ‘Mysterium.Encounter’ (RB:HI fol. v(v)) in Liber Primus, completed two years earlier, in 1915.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 62

Fig 8. Central Crossing, Mausoleum Galla Placidia, Ravenna (Italy). Free download from: https://www.cepolina.com The Self, Individuation and the Ancestors: Image 169 (unfinished), 1929/59 When Jung stopped work on The Red Book, he left Image 169 unfinished. Nor could he complete it in 1959 (Fig. 9). Whilst remaining open to many interpretations,61 and awaiting possible amplification in the forthcoming publication of the Black Books, Image 169 is nevertheless related to Jung’s contemporary ideas about ancestral souls as constituents of the psyche that require integration for further analytical development. Following Jung’s colour experiments between 1917-1927, the painting presents us with Jung’s concluding—although not final—‘coloured thoughts’ in The Red Book. At the lower left, Jung designed a mandala that transforms from a

61 See Laughlin, Treasure Hunting (2016) for a summary.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 63

diamond-like ‘philosopher’s stone’ to a circular ‘flower’ with 16 petal- like lobes. In the middle, against an ice-blue background, a diagonally quartered, white square is set within a second one, which in turn is framed by an equal-armed white cross. Around this central structure, triangular and tetrahedron facets in white and deepening hues of blue multiply outward from 8 to 12 to 16, the latter the traditional number of the sun’s rays.62 The mandala is surrounded by 128 rays in alternating colours of red, yellow, green and blue (right to left). Jung noted their order in pencil at the lower left of the page: roth, gelb, grün, blau. They are the colours related to the four psychological functions of consciousness (feeling, intuition, sensation, thinking). Thus the mandala presents a symbol of individuation: the diamond/flower/self from which the rays of consciousness emanate. Concentric rings of 127 faces (one less than the mandala’s rays), some complete, others still unfinished, orbit around this new sun. They represent the living, the dead, and the ancestors—another major Red Book theme. Those closest to the mandala’s rays are highlighted in white, whereas the unfinished faces in the outer rings vary from whitish green, turquoise, to blue-green at the edges—continuing the movement from light to dark. Several skulls leer out along the right edges of the painting, and in the upper right corner, a skeleton stares at us, its bony arm gesturing at the other faces. Lower down, a Neanderthal-like profile stares towards the mandala.

62 Jung designed a simpler version of this type of mandala for his fireplace mantle, carved during the 1931 additions at Bollingen. He linked this configuration—the transition from a cross to a rose (‘per crucem ad rosam’)—to the Rosicrucian ‘Rosie Crosse’, and the movement from the Christian era to a new age (1936:37 and 1953:§99).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 64

Fig. 9. Image 169. © The Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Zurich. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

On a collective level, they signify the progressive waves of emerging PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 65

consciousness that have been completed—or remain incomplete—over the aeons of human history, moving inward from mankind’s remotest beginnings on the right side, to the present, closest to the mandala on the left. On an individual level, they represent the ancestral souls, the Mendelian or psychic elements that require unification (drawn to the mandala). For Jung, they undoubtedly included his ancestral dead and the historical figures who were important for his own psychological make-up and individuation.63

CONCLUSION: ‘THE BEAUTY OF SUFFERING’ At the end of Scrutinies, a blue shade, identified as Christ in Black Book 6, enters Jung’s garden. Philemon welcomes him, observing that ‘the sins of the world have conferred beauty upon your countenance’, describing them as crimson (blood), ermine (snow from the poles), and crown (the sun)—the ‘old’ colours of red, white, and yellow/gold. Christ asks: ‘[…] are you in my garden or am I in yours?’ Philemon answers that Christ is in Baucis and Philemon’s garden. He is able to be there because the couple, hosts to the Gods, have already given hospitality to Christ’s brother, Satan, the terrible worm. Within this new order, Christ brings a gift for the future generations of the approaching Aquarian age, where evil must be acknowledged and lived with—dark together with light—in each individual. Christ’s gift is paradoxical: ‘I bring you the beauty of suffering’ (RB RE:551-553). He bestows his suffering, and its beautiful colours, to mankind. Through Jung’s acts of colour exploration, The Red Book presents its viewer with a striking visual journey, one depicting Jung’s ‘beauty of suffering’, thus linking it with Goethe’s assertion a century earlier: ‘colours are the deeds and sufferings of the light’. The Red Book teaches that there is no individuation without suffering and

63 As Laughlin has most recently noted (2016:314), Image 169 is related to a dream Jung had when working on The Psychology of the Unconscious in 1911, recounted in Memories, Dreams, Reflections. He met a group of ‘distinguished spirits or earlier centuries’, including a bewigged gentleman (of which there are several in Image 169): ‘The bewigged gentleman was a kind of ancestral spirit, or spirit of the dead, who had addressed questions to me—in vain! It was still too soon, I had not yet come so far, but I had an obscure feeling that by working on my book I would be answering the question that had been asked. It had been asked by, as it were, my spiritual forefathers, in the hope and expectation that they would learn what they had not been able to find out during their time on earth, since the answer had first to be created in the centuries that followed’ (Jung/Jaffé 1963:284-285). Laughlin attempts to identify these figures (ibid:374-386).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 66

sacrifice, and Jung employed colours to signify their type and intensity. As I have demonstrated, by the time that Jung had finished the calligraphic version of Liber Primus on parchment, and the first 36 pages of Liber Secundus in The Red Book in late 1915, he had already developed his own colour hermeneutics, which he continued to expand and refine during the next fifteen years. On the simplest level, his choice of colours signified the feeling-toned aspects of his ‘I’, soul, other personages, and chapter titles in Liber Novus. With increasing sophistication—and recourse to historical precedents—he also selected colours to symbolise the instinctual aspects of the psyche, the cosmic elements that linked Man to the new God and the Pleroma, and his developing ideas about typology. By 1921 Jung could state with personal conviction: ‘Everything that is alive in the psyche shimmers in multiple colours’ (‘Etwas in der Seele schillert in mehren Farben’).64 We have had to wait nearly a century, until the publication of The Red Book, to appreciate more fully the meaning of Jung’s declaration. It provides us with a key to comprehend his colours of dread (‘Descent into the Hell of the Future’) and love (images of cosmic creation and hierosgamos that could easily have illustrated Mysterium Coniunctionis over three decades later); in short, to respect their effectiveness and numinosity, from the tiny coloured hieroglyphics on Red Book 42 to the monumental mandala at Bollingen. For just as Liber Novus reverberates silently throughout Jung’s subsequent corpus of writings, so his Red Book colour hermeneutics shimmer in the background of his subsequent discourses on colour symbolism.

[email protected]

64 Jung (1921a:701; differently translated in 1921b:§854).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 67

ABBREVIATIONS Art = The Art of C.G. Jung. 2019.

RB = Jung, Carl Gustav. 2009a. The Red Book.

RB RE = Jung, Carl Gustav. 2009b. The Red Book, Reader’s Edition.

REFERENCES Agrippa of Nettesheim, Henry Cornelius. 2017. The Three Books of Occult Philosophy. Donald Tyson (ed.). Woodbury: Llewellyn Publications. The Art of C.G. Jung. 2019. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company. Baynes Janson, Diana.2003. Jung’s Apprentice. A Biography of Helton Godwin Baynes. Einsiedeln: Daimon Verlag. Berthelot, Marcellin. 1887. Collection des Anciens Alchemistes Grecs, I. Paris: Georges Steinheil. Bishop, Paul. 2008. Analytical Psychology and German Classical Aesthetics. Goethe, Schiller, and Jung. Vol. 1. The Development of the Personality. London and New York: Routledge Taylor and Francis Group. Éveno, Bertrand. 2015. ‘Jung’s “Multicolored Arabesques”: Their Renderings and Intentions in the Pictorial Vocabulary of The Red Book.’ Psychological Perspectives 58, 1:5-33. Fischer, Thomas and Bettina Kaufmann. 2019. ‘C.G. Jung and Modern Art.’ In The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company:19-31. Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von [1810] 2016. Zur Farbenlehre. Berlin: GmbH & Co. ———. [1840] 2006. Theory of Colours. Trans. with notes by Charles Lock Eastlake (Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, Inc.).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 68

Greene, Liz. 2018a. The Astrological World of Jung’s Liber Novus. London: Routledge. ———. 2018b. Jung’s Studies in Astrology. Prophecy, Magic, and the Qualities of Time. London: Routledge. Guinon, Georges and Woltke, Sophie. 1891. ‘De l’influence des excitations des organes des sens sur les hallucinations de la phase passionnelle de l’attaque hysterique.’ Archives de Neurologie 21 (63):346-65. Harms, Donald. 2011. ‘Geometry of Jung’s Systema Munditotius.’ Jung Journal: Cultural & Psyche 5 (3):145-159. ———.2016. Geometric Wholeness of the Self. The Mandala as a Psychological and Spiritual Representationn of the Self. Napa (California): Donald Harms. Hoch, Medea. 2019. ‘C.G. Jung’s Concepts of Color in the Context of Modern Art.’ In The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company:33-49. Hoerni, Ulirch.2019. ‘Images from the Unconscious: An Introduction to the Visual Works of C.G. Jung.’ In The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company:10-16. Hyde, Maggie. 1992. Jung and Astrology. London: The Aquarian Press. Jeromson, Barry. 2005/2006. ‘Systema Munditotius and Seven Sermons: Symbolic Collaborators in Jung’s Confrontation with the Dead.’ Jung History 1 (2):6-10. Jung, Carl Gustav.1902. On the Psychology of So-Called Occult Phenomena. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol.1: §1-149. ———. 1909. The Association Method. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 2: § 939-998. ———. [1912] 1991. The Psychology of the Unconscious. Translated by Beatrice M. Hinkle. London: Moffat, Yard and Company. Reprinted with an introduction by William McGuire. London: Routledge. ———.1913. A Contribution to the Study of Psychological Types. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 6: §858-882.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 69

———. 1916a. ‘Introjection and Projection’, unpublished discussion of the Association for Analytical Psychology, October 1916. ———.[1916b] 1917. ‘Conception of the Unconscious.’ In Collected Papers On Analytical Psychology. Constance E. Long (ed.). 2nd edition. New York: Moffat, Yard. ———.1917. ‘The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes.’ In Collected Papers On Analytical Psychology. Constance E. Long (ed.). 2nd edition. New York: Moffat, Yard. ———. 1921a. Psychologische Typen. 5th and 6th edition 1930. Zürich: Rascher & Cie. ———. [1921b] 1971. Psychological Types. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 6. ———. 1923. Psychological Types or The Psychology of Individuation. trans. H.G. Baynes. London: Kegan Paul. ———. [1929] 1938. ‘Commentary on “The Secret of the Golden Flower”’.Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 13: §1-84. ———. [1931a]. Archaic Man. Collected Works of C.G. Jung. vol.10: §104-147. ———. 1931b. The Secret of the Golden Flower. Trans. Richard Wilhelm. Commentary by C.G. Jung. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. ———. [1934] 1950. A Study in the Process of Individuation. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 9, 1: §525-626. ———. 1936. ‘Traumsymbole des Individuationsprozesses,’ Eranos-Jahrbuch 1935 (Zurich: Rhein-Verlag):13-133. ———. 1937. Bericht über die Berliner Vortrage von Prof. Dr. C. G. Jung. 28/29 September 1937 (Ausgearbeited von Frau Marianne Stark, Berlin). Unpublished typescript. ———.1938. Psychology and Religion. New Haven: Yale University Press. ———.1939. ‘Dream Symbols of the Process of Individuation.’ In The Integration of the Personality. Translated by Stanley M. Dell. New York: Farrar & Rinehart, Inc. ———. 1951. Aion. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 9, 2. ———.1952. Symbols of Transformation. Collected Works of C.G. Jung. vol. 5. ———. 1953. Psychology and Alchemy. Collected Works of C. G. Jung.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 70

vol. 12. ———. 1954. On the Nature of the Psyche. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 8: §159-442. ———. 1955. Mysterium Coniunctionis. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 14. ———. 1958. Psychology and Religion. Collected Works of C. G. Jung vol. 11. ———. 1959. Modern Psychology. Notes on Lectures given at the Eidgenössiches Technische Hochschule, Zürich. 3, ‘Eastern Texts’. 2nd Edition. Privately published. ———. 1973. Letters, vol. 1. Selected and edited by Gerhard Adler in collaboration with Aniela Jaffé. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. ———. 1984. Dream Analysis: notes of the seminar given in 1928-30. William McGuire (ed.). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. ———.[1989a] 2012. Introduction to Jungian Psychology: Notes of the Seminar on Analytical Psychology Given in 1925. Ed. William McGuire (ed.). Revised edition. Sonu Shamdasani (ed.) Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1989b. Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: notes of the Seminar given in 1934-39. 2 vols. James L. Jarrett (ed). London: Routledge. ———. 1997: Visions: notes of the seminar given in 1930-1934. 2 vols. C. Douglas (ed.). Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———.2008. Children’s Dreams. Notes from the Seminar Given in 1936-1940. Lorenz Jung and Maria Mayer-Grass (eds.). Ernst Falzeder (trans.). Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 2009a. The Red Book: Liber Novus. Sonu Shamdasani (ed.). Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Sonu Shamdasani (trans.). New York/London: W. W. Norton & Company. ———. 2009b. The Red Book: Liber Novus. A Reader’s Edition. Sonu Shamdasani (ed.). Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Sonu Shamdasani (trans.). New York/London: W. W. Norton & Company. ———. 2019a. Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process. Notes of C.G. Jung’s Seminars on Wolfgang Pauli’s Dreams. Suzanne Gieser (ed.). Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. ———.2019b. History of Modern Psychology. Lectures delivered at ETH Zurich. Volume 1. 1933-34. Ernst Falzeder (ed.). Princeton and

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 71

Oxford: Princeton University Press. Jung, Carl Gustav/Jaffé, Aniela.1963. Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Clara and Richard Winston (trans.). London: Collins and Routledge & Kegan Paul. Jung, Carl Gustav/Members of the Class. 1923. Notes on the Seminar in Analytical Psychology conducted by Dr. C.G. Jung. Polzeath, England, July 14- July 27, 1923. Unpublished typescript. Kingsley, Peter. 2018. Catafalque: Carl Jung and the End of Humanity. 2 vols. London: Catafalque Press. Laughlin, Kiley. 2016. Treasure Hunting. A Hermeneutical Inquiry into the Final Painting of Liber Novus. PhD disss. Pacifica Graduate Institute, California. PDF accessed via www.academia.edu in 2019. Mellick, Jill. 2018. The Red Book Hours, Discovering C.G. Jung’s Art Mediums and Creative Process. Zurich: Scheidegger & Spiess. ———. 2019. ‘Matter and Method in The Red Book: Selected findings’, In The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company:217-232. Owens, Lance. 2011. ‘Jung and Aion: Time, Vision, and a Wayfaring Man.’ Psychological Perspectives 54 (3): 253-289. Portal, Frédéric. 1837 Des Couleurs symboliques dans l’Antiquité, Le Moyen Age et les Temps Modernes. Paris: Treuttel et Würtz. Protocols of the interviews conducted by Aniela Jaffé with C.G. Jung for Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Reeves, Marjorie. [1976] 1999. Joachim of Fiore & The Prophetic Future. London: SPCK. 2nd ed. Gloucester: Sutton Publishing Ltd. Rossi, Safron. 2015. ‘Saturn in C.G. Jung’s “Liber Primus”’, Jung Journal 2015 9 (1):38-57. Shamdasani, Sonu.2012. C.G. Jung A Biography in Books. New York/ London: W.W. Norton & Company. Shamdasani, Sonu. 2018: ‘Expressions symboliques: Jung, Dada, le mandala et l’art de la folie,’ in Jung et l’élan créateur. Xe Colloques de Bruxelles, Brussels, Esperluète/L’Arbre Soleil: 269-308. Sherry, Jay. 2010. A Pictorial Guide to The Red Book. Accessed via https://aras.org/sites/default/files/docs/00033Sherry.pdf

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 FROM THE INSTINCTUAL TO THE COSMIC 72

Silberer, Herbert. 1914. Probleme der Mystik und ihre Symbolik. Vienna: Heller. Zervas, Diane Finiello. 2019a. ‘Intimations of the Self.’ In The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company:179-210. ———. 2019b. ‘Philemon, Ka, and Creative Fantasy: The Formation of the Reconciling Symbol in Jung’s Visual Work, 1919-1923.’ Phanês. Journal for Jung History 2: 59-103.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 73

APPENDIX COLOURS IN THE RED BOOK 1. Word Frequency/Colours in Liber Novus text

Main Characters/Objects Colours and Values frequency frequency

God >500 Soul >500 Serpent ±263 Dark/ness 246

Light/ness: 219

Christ ±192 Devil 159 Blood/y: 115

Black/ness 103 Philemon 78 Abraxas 73 Red/ Crimson 75 White 66 Bird 60 Chaos 49 Gold 46 Green 44 Blue 22 Yellow 11 Silver 6 Orange 0 Brown 0 Purple/viola 0

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 74

2. Historiated Initials, Chapter Numbers and Titles, Dialogue Interlocutors in the Red Book

LIBER PRIMUS The Way Of What Is To Come Jung’s I Spirit of the Times Spirit of the Depths i. Refinding the Soul. Jung’s I ii. Soul and God. Jung’s I Spirit of the Times Spirit of the Depths Iii. On the Service of the Soul. Jung’s I Soul Spirit of the Depths iv. The Desert. Jung’s I Soul Experiences in the Desert. Jung’s I Soul v. Descent into Hell in the Future. Jung’s I Many voices vi. Splitting of the Spirit. Jung’s I Spirit of the Depths Soul vii. Murder of the Hero. Jung’s I Spirit of the Depths viii. The Conception of the God. Jung’s I Spirit of the Depths ix. Mysterium. Encounter. Jung’s I Elijah Salome x. Instruction. Jung’s I Elijah Salome xi. Resolution. (I) Vision Jung’s I Elijah/Mime (2) Christification Jung’s I Elijah Salome

LIBER SECUNDUS THE IMAGES OF THE ERRING. i. The Red One. Jung’s I The Red One ii. The Castle in the Forest. Jung’s I Scholar She (Scholar’s Daughter) iii. One of the Lowly. Jung’s I He (One of the Lowly) Vol 3 • 2020 Vol PHANÊS THE COSMIC TO THE INSTINCTUAL FROM iv. The Anchorite. dies.i. Jung’s I Anchorite v. dies ii. Jung’s I Anchorite (Ammonius) vi. Death. Dialogue: direct Jung’s I Death vii.Remains of Earlier Temples. Jung’s I Ammonius The Red One viii.First Day. Jung’s I Izdubar ix. Second Day. Jung’s I Izdubar x. The Incantations [2nd layer] no dialogue xi. The Opening of the Egg Jung’s I Izdubar xii. Hell. No dialogue voice xiii. The Sacrificial Murder. Jung’s I She (Soul) xiv. Divine Folly. Jung’s I Librarian xv. Nox secunda. Jung’s I Cook Ezechiel Professor Superintendent xvi. Nox tertia. Jung’s I/I Soul Someone/fool, Professor xvii. Nox quarta. Jung’s I Soul Cook Librarian xviii. The Three Prophecies. Jung’s I Soul xix. The Gift of Magic. Jung’s I Soul xx. The Way of the Cross. no dialogue White bird xxi. The Magician. {1} Jung’s I ΦΙΛΗΜΩΝ {2} Jung’s I Serpent (Soul) Jung’s I Serpent {3} Jung’s I Serpent (Soul) Satan 2nd layer Jung’s I Cabiri Jung’s I Cabiri {4} Jung’s I He (The Hanged Man) {5} Jung’s I Serpent Elijah Salome {6} Jung’s I Serpent Bird Salome Raven Satan

Sections {7} and {8} not transcribed into the Red Book Vol 3 • 2020 Vol PHANÊS DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS 75 DIANE FINIELLO ZERVAS WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? C.G. JUNG AND TONI WOLFF’S MOSAIC VISION

RONALD V. HUGGINS

PHANÊS • VOLUME 3 • 2020 • PP. 76–115

https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes.2020.Huggins WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 77

ABSTRACT On at least five different occasions, C.G. Jung told the story of how he and Toni Wolff saw and discussed four mosaics in an ancient Baptistery in Ravenna, Italy, that turned out not to exist, but rather had apparently represented some sort of shared visionary experience. It was, Jung said, ‘among the most curious events in my life’ (MDR:285). This article begins by establishing the correct date and location of this incident. Then it seeks to show, with the aid of the author’s on- site investigation of the relevant sites in Ravenna, that what Jung and Wolff saw in the Baptistery actually did exist but was partly misremembered and partly misinterpreted. Pictures are included that illustrate relevant details.

KEYWORDS Jung Chronology, Toni Wolff, Ravenna, Baptistery of the Orthodox, Arian Baptistery, San Giovanni Evangelista.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 78

n 1932, C.G. Jung and Toni Wolff, while visiting Ravenna’s Baptistery of the Orthodox,I had an experience that Jung later described as ‘among the most curious events in my life’ (Jung & Jaffé 1965 [henceforth MDR]:285).1 They saw what they took to be four early Christian mosaics. Jung had talked about the meaning of these mosaics at some length while Toni Wolff looked on and listened. Not long afterwards, however, they were informed that the mosaics they thought they saw did not exist. Jung Fig. 1: Ravenna’s Baptistery of the Orthodox* spoke of the experience on at least five different occasions, in 1932, 1948, twice in 1957, and 1948.2 One of the 1957 accounts became the source from which was developed the version of the story now found in Jung’s posthumous ‘autobiography,’ Memories, Dreams, Reflections (=MDR:284-287). For Jung the experience represented a watershed moment in the development of his thought: ‘Since my experience in the baptistery in Ravenna, I know with certainty that something interior can seem to be exterior, and that something exterior can appear to be interior.

*All photographs taken by the author. 1 For another study of the Ravenna mosaic vision from a psychological perspective, see Noel (1993:159-163). 2 12 October 1932 (Jung 1932a:16), June 1948 (Harding 1948:184-185), 9 Jan 1957 (Bennet 1985:80-81), and 3 August 1957 (Protocols [=Prot.] A.127-28, B.46-47, F.621- 22), and 5 May 1948 (Max Knoll to Cary F. Baynes, 19 Jul 1959, henceforth Knoll). Thanks to Sonu Shamdasani for kindly introducing me to and providing me with a copy of the Knoll account. ‘Protocols’ is the name given a collection of documents that consist primarily of the interview notes Aniela Jaffé took of conversations with C.G. Jung to use as the basis for Memories, Dreams, Reflections. The portion discussing the Ravenna incident represents three drafts of the same 3 August 1957 interview. The priority of Prot. A.127-129, which I always list first when citing the Protocols, is obvious from the number of proof-reading marks and other hand-written corrections in its margins and between its lines that are incorporated into the main texts of the other two drafts.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 79

The actual walls of the baptistery, though they must have been seen by my physical eyes, were covered over by a vision of some altogether different sight which was as completely real as the unchanged baptismal font’ (MDR:287). Although the MDR version is the most familiar one, E.A. Bennet’s account, also from 1957, is the most complete. Here it is in its entirety:

C.G. had spoken to Toni Wolff about the Baptistry of the Orthodox in Ravenna where Galla Placidia was buried. Early in the fifth century, after surviving a stormy sea voyage to Ravenna, she had built a church there in fulfillment of a vow. The original church was later destroyed, but her tomb is there. After visiting the tomb they entered the Baptistry. It was filled with a bluish light, though there was no artificial lighting. C.G. looked round the building and remarked to Toni, ‘Isn’t it curious? Here are these beautiful mosaics on the west, the east, the south and the north in this octagonal building, and I can’t remember seeing them before—it’s most remarkable for they are so striking!’ In the centre was the font; it was big for it was used for immersion. For twenty minutes they studied the mosaics. C.G. described them as about twice the size of a tapestry hanging on the verandah (which is about six feet by eight feet). Each depicted a baptism scene: one of St. Peter sinking into the sea and our Lord saving him; one of the Israelites in the Red Sea, when the water drowned the Egyptians; one of Naaman the Syrian bathing in the water and being cured of leprosy; and one of our Lord’s baptism. The double symbolism of baptism as a saving of life and as a danger of death was shown in each mosaic. C.G. was particularly impressed by that showing Peter sinking in the sea and stretching out his hand and Jesus reaching for him, this was a most beautiful mosaic of lapis lazuli. On leaving the Baptistry they went to a shop opposite to get photographs of these mosaics—one of the small shops always found near such places. They offered pictures of the Baptistry, but none of the mosaics. They went to another shop—no luck— and to several others, but they could not find the photographs they wanted. Soon after C.A. Meier was going to Italy and C.G. told him to be sure to visit Ravenna and see these mosaics and get pictures

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 80

of them, or if he couldn’t to take photographs. Meanwhile C.G. was giving a seminar in the course of which he mentioned the wonderful mosaics he and Miss Wolff had seen in Ravenna, and he described them in detail. When Dr. Meier returned from Italy he told C.G. that he had gone to the Baptistry in Ravenna but that there were no mosaics there of the kind he had described. C.G. told this to Toni Wolff who said, ‘That’s ridiculous, I saw them with my own eyes and you talked of them for about twenty minutes!’ ‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘there are no such mosaics.’ So at the seminar he said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry but there are no mosaics’. (Bennet 1985:80-81).

To this account MDR adds in addition Jung’s recollection that on his previous visit to the Baptistery there had been windows, which were now covered over by the mosaics (184). He also identifies the church that ‘was later destroyed’ in Bennet’s account, as San Giovanni Evangelista, and says that it, ‘together with its mosaics, was destroyed by fire’ in the ‘early Middle Ages’ (286). Also included in MDR is a footnote by Aniela Jaffé informing us that Jung ‘explained the vision as a momentary new creation by the unconscious (eine momentane Neuschӧpfung des Unbewussten), arising out of his thoughts about archetypal initiation. The immediate cause of the concretization lay, in his opinion, in a projection of his anima upon Galla Placidia’ (286, n. 6; Jung & Jaffé 2013 [henceforth ETG]:314, n. 10). Perhaps a better English word to bring across the sense of what Jung appears to have meant by Neuschӧpfung would be ‘re-creation’ rather than ‘new creation,’ since Jung seems to have had in mind that the mosaics he and Toni Wolff saw in the Baptistery of the Orthodox were actually visionary restorations of four, long-destroyed mosaics from the basilica of San Giovanni Evangelista.3 Marie-Louise von Franz saw in the Ravenna incident a striking parallel to the strange experience of C.A.E. Moberly and E.F. Jourdain, who reported visiting Petit Trianon in 1901 and being transported back to the eighteenth-century ‘Versailles of Marie Antoinette,’ where, ‘they had not only seen people of that time but buildings which no longer 3 For the view that what Jung and his acquaintance saw were actually long-destroyed mosaics from Galla Placidia’s Church of San Giovanni Evangelista miraculously re-created (a view only hinted at in Jung’s accounts), see, for example, Marie-Louise von Franz (1992:115), Maggy Anthony (1990:32), Molton & Sikes (2011:6), Tilander (1991:121), and McLynn (1996:318-319).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 81

existed, including having passed a little bridge which had disappeared since’ (von Franz 1992:115). However, when one peruses Moberly and Jourdain’s book, An Adventure (1913), one immediately observes the striking difference in how they responded to their remarkably mysterious experience as compared to how Jung did. Moberly and Jourdain engaged in what von Franz rightly described as ‘years of painstaking research’ to determine whether what they saw in the past had really existed in the eighteenth century as they had experienced it. In contrast, so far as we know, it never seems to have occurred to Jung to return to Ravenna himself to try to make sense of what had happened there. Our central purpose here, then, is to explore what Jung might have discovered had he returned to Ravenna to investigate the matter. We shall suggest an account of what occurred that appears to provide a very straightforward solution: What Jung and Toni Wolff saw was really there, but not precisely as Jung had described it. This, we shall argue, was due partly to Jung’s misremembering and partly to his misinterpreting what he saw. Then, afterward, when C.A. Meier visited the baptistery later looking for the mosaics, the description Jung had given him caused him to miss the obvious solution, just as this author, with the same expectations informing him, missed it as well on his first visit to the baptistery.

SORTING OUT THE ACCOUNTS So far as I have been able to discover, Jung never left an account of the Ravenna incident in his own hand. All are based on notes taken down by others. All these accounts differ to one degree or another, even on questions as basic as where and when the event actually occurred. The problem has been further magnified—sometimes understandably, other times quite inexplicably—by the reconstructions of the event in biographies of Jung and other secondary literature about him. As a result, there is at present no consensus in the literature as to when the event took place, with proposed dates differing by more than twenty years. This is remarkable since the evidence relating to the matter is actually quite straightforward and definitive, but it is the situation none the less. Furthermore, accounts deriving from Jung himself point to two competing locations as to where the vision occurred. As a result, before we can address the issue of what Jung and Toni Wolff saw, we must first try to settle the matter ofwhen and where they saw it.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 82

WHEN? So far as we know, Jung visited Ravenna only twice, once in 1914 on a bike trip with his friend and colleague Hans Schmid-Guisan, and once in 1932 with Toni Wolff. MDR is correct in indicating there were only two visits to Ravenna, but incorrect in placing those visits in 1913 and ‘twenty years later,’ or 1933 (MDR:284). Both dates, however, are only a year off. How it came about that these dates were included in MDR is a mystery. Neither of them are supported in any of the drafts of Aniela Jaffé’s report of her 3 August 1957 interview with Jung that served as the basis for the MDR version. In that interview Jung correctly remembered 1932 as the date of his trip to Ravenna with Toni Wolff (who is explicitly mentioned) during which the Ravenna vision occurred. (Protocols [henceforth, Prot.] A.127, cf. B.46, F.621).4 Jung also correctly identifies ‘Dr. Schmid’ as his traveling companion on his previous trip there (Prot. A.129, cf. B.48, F. 623).5 However, he incorrectly recalls, or else Aniela Jaffé incorrectly reports, the first trip’s taking place ‘8 Jahre zuvor’ the second, that is to say, in 1924. Despite the fact that Jung speaks in the first person throughoutMDR , he wrote only three chapters for the book, with the rest being mainly the work of Aniela Jaffé.6 By the time the book was finished things had

4 In the original draft, Jung names his companion on the second trip as ‘Frl. Wolff,’ which is marked out and replaced with ‘T.W.’ (A.127 and 128). The correction is added to the two later copies (B.46 and 48, F. 621 and 623). 5 MDR doesn’t specify who accompanied Jung on either trip. 6 A document signed by Jung himself reads: ‘Aniela Jaffé is the author of a book entitled “Gedanken, Erinnerungen, Träume von C.G. Jung” [i.e., MDR] written in the form of an autobiography of C.G. Jung, to which C.G. Jung has contributed three chapters, written by himself [...] The chapters [...] were to be considered as his contributions to the work of Mrs. A. Jaffé. The book was to be published in the name of Mrs. Jaffé and not in the name of C.G. Jung, because it did not represent an autobiography composed by C.G. Jung [...] On [sic] a conference held on the 26th August 1960 [...] C.G. Jung confirmed again that he did strictly consider this book as an undertaking of Mrs. A. Jaffé to which he had only given his contributions. Therefore the book was not to be included in his Collected Works.’ (‘Resolution of the Editorial Committee for “The Collected Works” of Prof. C.G. Jung [29 Nov 1960],’ 1-2; The Records of the Bollingen Foundation, Bx 102, Fd XX add. ‘Jaffé, Memories, Dreams, Reflections,’ Manuscript Department, Library of Congress, Washington, DC [henceforth MD,LOC]. In other contexts, Jung spoke of the project as his own. On 21 March 1959, for example, he told E.A. Bennet that for the previous two years (at least) he had been ‘writing an autobiography,’ but that ‘he was hesitant to publish it because it could so

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 83

become more complicated, effectively reducing Jung’s direct involvement in the project even further.7 MDR was never comprehensively reviewed and corrected by Jung, nor did he ever see the manuscript in its final form, much less ‘authorize’ it.8 Consequently when evaluating details such as this in MDR or Jaffé’s manuscripts underlying it (the Protocols), it is important to keep in mind the procedure used to produce them. According to Jaffé, the recording of the original interviews was not a matter of Jung’s in any sense dictating his story to her, nor was a recording machine used. As Jaffé herself insisted, ‘Jung never dictated one single sentence of this book [i.e., of MDR]’ (Aniela Jaffé to H. S. Bailey of Princeton University Press, 3 Jan 1984, WMcGP, Bx 50, Fd 9, MD,LOC). The material was gathered in a relatively informal way. As Jaffé recalled, Jung ‘spoke and followed a sort of Freudian line of associations,’ after which, ‘When I came home, I took a cup of tea, went immediately to the typewriter: copied my notes and filled them out with [what] was still in my ears [...] out of these puzzle-pieces I had to make one whole story’ (Aniela Jaffé to William McGuire, 26 Nov 1981. WMcGP, Bx 44, Fd 10, MD,LOC. Letter included on the microfilm copy of the Papers of C.G. Jung, MSS 21,057, MD,LOC). Jaffé also tells us in another place that ‘Jung never read them [i.e., the Protocols]’ (Aniela Jaffé draft statement to the Library of Congress ‘Concerning to the origin of the Protocols [Aug 1983],’ WMcGP Bx 50, Fd 9. MD,LOC). Despite the fact that the current edition of MDR continues to give 1913 as the date of Jung’s first visit to Ravenna, it has been known for

easily be misunderstood, and this could disturb many people who depended upon him’ (Bennet 1985:106). Jaffé began work on the Protocols in 1957 (Aniela Jaffé’s draft statement to the Library of Congress ‘Concerning to the origin of the Protocols [Aug 1983],’ William McGuire Papers [henceforth WMcGP], Bx 50, Fd 9, MD,LOC). 7 Regarding the remark about Jung’s writing three chapters of MDR, Sonu Shamdasani writes: ‘it is actually more complicated. The first three chapters represent an amalgam of Jung’s 1958 memoir + material from the protocols. Some bits of the memoir were deleted. The section on the [P]ueblo [I]ndians is an excerpt from Jung’s ms. on this, and Jung wrote the “late thoughts” chapter—the original of which hasn’t yet come to light’ (Shamdasani to the author, 16 Jun 2020). 8 As Shamdasani writes: ‘In her introduction, Jaffé claims that Jung “read through the manuscript of the [=this] book and approved it” [MDR:vii / ETG:9]. However, this simply could not have been the case, as Jung never saw the final manuscript’ (2005:29). Furthermore, even before that, as Thomas Fischer notes, Jung ‘was up in age and easily tired [...] [and] no longer had the stamina to bother about such details as checking dates and wording’ (Fischer to the author, 3 Jul 2020). For an overview of the complicated editorial process that gave birth to MDR, see Shamdasani 2005:15-45.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 84

quite a long time that the correct date is 1914. The date has already been corrected, for example, in Erinnerungen, Träume, Gedanken (henceforth ETG), the German edition of MDR (ETG:312).9 Also, in 1975, Jung’s son Franz complained that he’d informed Jaffé ‘some years ago’ about the incorrect date, noting that postcards to Emma proved ‘that C.G. was on the 7.4.1914 [7 April 1914] the first time in Ravenna’ (Franz Jung to William McGuire, 25 Feb 1975, WMcGP, Bx 3, Fd 3, MD,LOC).10 Franz’s date appears to be based on a postcard sent from Bologna, Italy, on 5 April 1914 in which Jung tells Emma: ‘tomorrow we [he and Schmid- Guisan] will head to Ravenna’. Jung perhaps wrote the postcard on the evening of 4 April 1914, and posted it on the morning of the fifth as he and Schmid-Guisan were starting out on their bicycles for nearby Ravenna.11 But although many now accept the 1914 date for Jung’s first visit to Ravenna, a surprising number of writers astonishingly name not Schmid- Guisan as his companion on that journey, but Toni Wolff (Bair 2003:248; Healy 2017:124; Lachman 2010:129; Mehrtens 2012:71; Owen 2015:46; Clark-Stern 2010:25-26). The implication is that the mosaic vision took place on the 1914 visit as well, which Bair clearly implies (cf. 248,729, n. 34)12 9 However, the German edition did not also adjust the reference to the second trip’s occurring 20 years after the first. As a result, it points to 1934 as the date of the second visit, which, as we shall see, is two years too late. 10 There is some question, however, whether Franz had earlier suggested 1912 as the correct date, rather than 1914. At least such might seem to be indicted in the Freud/ Jung Letters in a footnote to the 27 April 1912 letter of Jung to Freud (312 J:501). The note explains that the trip to Italy described in that letter ‘was apparently also the occasion of Jung’s first visit to Ravenna (information from Mr. Franz Jung, correcting the date 1913 in Memories, p. 284/265).’ 11 That Franz Jung must have had this postcard in mind is confirmed by Thomas Fischer, Director of the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, who kindly provided information about the 5 April postcard, including confirmation that Schmid-Guisan was Jung’s traveling companion (Thomas Fischer to the author, 6 and 14 Mar and 1 Apr 2019). Bair (2003:729-730) and Clay (2016:366), have previously sought and obtained this evidence based on family postcards for the April 1914 date. Clay includes the detail that ‘the Jung family archive confirms it was Schmid.’ However, both authors complicate matters by stating things in the context that are not correct, Bair saying that the postcard verified ‘the correct date of his first (of three) visits to Ravenna,’ there is only evidence for two visits, and Clay, that Jung commented in the postcard on the Ravenna mosaics, which he did not (Clay 2016:243). 12 After telling the story of Jung and Wolff’s alleged visit to Ravenna in 1914, Bair then informs her readers that this was the visit ‘Described in MDR, chapter 9, sec. 5,’ i.e., the section telling about the mosaic vision (Bair 2003:729, n. 34). Bair’s description of the Protocols at this point is confused and inaccurate. She says that ‘some’ of the Protocols ‘are dated August 3, 1957; others are left undated and unpaginated’ and that ‘he [Jung]

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 85

and Healy states outright (2017:124-125). Ultimately the evidence makes 1914 as the date of the mosaic vision all but impossible. The Protocols specifically identify ‘Dr. Schmid’ as the one who accompanied Jung on his earlier visit (Prot. A.129, cf. B.48, F.623). That Schmid-Guisan was indeed Jung’s companion on that trip is confirmed as well by the previously mentioned 5 April 1914 postcard Jung sent to his wife Emma from Bologna.13 Yet even supposing that Wolff was in Ravenna as well when Jung and Schmid-Guisan arrived there in 1914, as Bair seems to suggest, the consistent details of the vision story as Jung repeatedly told it rule out the mosaic vision having taken place at that time, and places beyond reasonable doubt that Wolff was, in any case, also in Ravenna with Jung in 1932. It was then, and not before, that they experienced the mosaic vision together. And this for a number of reasons. A key feature of the vision story as Jung told it was that it occurred on his second visit to Ravenna and that he was struck not only by the fact that he had no recollection of the mosaics being there before (Bennet 1985:80), but that he felt sure that on his first visit there had been windows where the mosaics now were (Prot. A.127, cf. B.46, F.621; MDR:284). In other words, part of the reason the vision was remarkable in the first place is that things seemed different from what they were before. Even more decisive against a 1914 date for the vision, is the crucial role played by Carl Alfred Meier (1905-1995) in the story. A consistent feature in Jung’s telling is that when he and Toni Wolff returned to Zurich he found that C.A. Meier was soon to travel to Ravenna himself, and so asked him to obtain pictures of the mosaics when he was there, which, as it turned out, Meier was unable to do. While Meier is referred to only as an ‘acquaintance’ in MDR (285), other accounts specifically name him (Bennet 1985:81; Harding 1948:184; Prot. A.128, cf. B.47-48, F.622- 23). The impression as well is given that Meier’s departure for Ravenna states [...] that he had been in Ravenna once with “acquaintances” eight years earlier [...] In a later Protocol, he says the acquaintance was Dr. Hans Schmid, with whom he bicycled from Switzerland to Ravenna’ (2003:730, n. 34). In fact, all of the accounts are paginated, and there is no disagreement between them on the matters Bair mentions. All three refer to Jung’s being in Ravenna on his previous trip ‘with acquaintances’ (mit Bekannten) (A.127, cf. B.46, F.621)—set in the particular context in contrast with his companion on his second trip, namely, Toni Wolff—and all three identify Schmid- Guisan as his traveling companion on the first trip Ich( war mit Dr. Schmid dort) (A.129, cf. B.48, F.623). 13 Thomas Fischer to the author (2 May 2019): ‘Schmid-Guisan is mentioned in the postcard. Carl mentions that Schmid also sends his greetings and that all goes well with the two of them’. This trip is mentioned in Jung 1932:760-761.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 86

occurred, as Bennet has it, ‘soon after’ Jung’s return (Bennet 1985:81). In MDR Jung simply says that ‘When I was back home, I asked an acquaintance who was going to Ravenna…’ (285). The Protocols likewise say that Meier was traveling to Ravenna ‘soon’ (bald).14 Meier’s role does not fit with an April 1914 date for the mosaic vision because it was on the 19th of that very month that the young Carl Alfred Meier celebrated his ninth birthday! Even supposing Jung misremembered its being Meier who went to Ravenna, that it had been somebody else who had returned from Ravenna in 1914 and informed him that the mosaics did not exist, it would make no difference, because Jung can be shown to still believe the mosaics did exist eighteen years later from his comments in the 1932 Kundalini Seminar.15 In contrast, when we accept the 1932 date for the mosaic vision given by Jung in the Protocols, all the evidential details snap into focus. In the various accounts where Jung tells of C.A. Meier’s unsuccessful trip to Ravenna, he speaks about how in the meantime16 he had spoken about the mosaics as actually existing in a seminar, only to have to admit to the same group after hearing from Meier that they did not (Bennet 1985:81).17 The Protocols explicitly identify the seminar in question as the Kundalini Yoga Seminar, where, in the 12 October 1932 session, we actually find Jung speaking in a way that shows he is simply assuming the mosaics were real: ‘if you study the beautiful mosaics in the Baptistery of the Orthodox in Ravenna (which dates from the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century [...] you see four scenes depicted...’ (Jung 1932a:16). This would mean that even though Jung believed the mosaics existed on 12 October 1932,

14 ‘...er reiste bald darauf ebenfalls nach Ravenna’ (Prot. A.128, cf. B.47, F.622). 15 When the question of publishing the notes from the 1932 Kundalini Seminar later arose, Jung wrote to R.F.C. Hull: ‘There is one particular story which must be excluded, because it is entirely impossible, and that is the story of the baptismal symbolism in the Battistero de[gl]i Orthodossi [sic] in Ravenna’ (Jung to Hull, 5 May 1954), WMcGP Bx 86, Fd 15, MD,LOC. Somehow Jung’s instruction was not carried out, which turned out to be a positive thing in terms of the case developed here. Thanks to Sonu Shamdasani for calling my attention to this letter. 16 ‘Meanwhile’ (Bennet 1985:81, MDR:285); ‘Inzwischen’ (ETG:313); But in the Protocols ‘Unmittelbar nach meiner Rückkehr’ (A.128, cf. B.47, F.622). Harding’s account is confused. She says Meier went to Ravenna ‘a year or two’ after the seminar (1948:184), but then she misremembers the seminar as taking place in 1929 instead of 1932. 17 A version of Wolff’s response is also in MDR (285), and was added by hand in the original draft of the Protocols account and then incorporated into the text of the later copies: Wir hatten sie ja beide ganz deutlich gesehen! (A.128, cf. B.48, F.623). So far as I have been able to discover all accounts of Wolff’s reaction post-date her 1953 death.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 87

he no longer did by the time the last lecture in that series concluded on 2 November 1932. The date fits as well the part played by Meier, who had replaced Helton Goodwin ‘Peter’ Baynes as Jung’s assistant the previous year (Hannah 1991:204-205 [esp. n. n.]; Jansen 2003:238, 252-53), and who was actually present at the Kundalini Yoga Seminar, as was Toni Wolff (Jung 1932a:xiv). All of this fits well a scenario that might have unfolded as follows: Meier hears Jung’s description of the mosaics during the seminar, takes him aside between sessions and mentions what he had actually discovered in Ravenna, after which Jung has a word about it with Toni Wolff, who, according to Bennet, responded, ‘That’s ridiculous, I saw them with my own eyes and you talked of them for about twenty minutes!’ (Bennet 1985:81). And then, when the seminar members had reconvened, Jung tells the whole group what he had just learned from Meier.18

WHERE? Certain ambiguities in Jung’s accounts of the mosaic vision have given scholars and Jung biographers false impressions as to the actual setting of the mosaic vision. From what Jung says, one might be led to believe that the long-destroyed basilica of San Giovanni, the tomb of Galla Placidia, and the Baptistery of the Orthodox were all part of a single building complex on a single site. As we read in Bennet’s account: ‘The original church was later destroyed, but her tomb is there. After visiting the tomb they entered the Baptistry’ (1985:80). A similar impression of the near proximity of tomb and baptistery is given in MDR (284): ‘we went directly from the tomb into the Baptistery of the Orthodox’ (my italics). The potential confusion caused by these statements can be seen, for example, in McLynn’s mistake in placing the Tomb of Galla Placida in the Church of San Giovanni (apparently forgetting Jung’s claim that the church had been destroyed in the middle ages), and Kerr’s apparently thinking the baptistery stands above the tomb when he speaks of how Jung and his companion ‘meditated long on the stained-glass windows of the chapel above the tomb of Galla Placidia’ (Kerr 1993:406). But, of course, Kerr did not get his reference to stained-glass windows from Jung, who never mentions such, nor from any trustworthy source. Neither the tomb nor the baptistery have (nor had) stain-glass windows. The windows of the 18 No such statement of correction by Jung appears in the published notes of this seminar.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 88

tomb are made of thinly-sliced, caramel-coloured alabaster, and those of the baptistery, of plain glass (which may or may not have been opaque in 1932 as they are today).19 In the Spring of 1973 a five-page letter written on a small notepad arrived in the offices of Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd, London. The letter, dated 26 April, was entirely dedicted to pointing out what its author, a certain J. Fletcher of Essex, considered errors in the account of the mosaic vision in MDR. In the process of ‘correcting’ the account, however, Fletcher makes a number of errors in fact and logic himself. The first of his criticisms, however, was entirely just:

Dr Jung says [...] [‘]We went directly from the tomb [of Galla Placidia] into the Baptistry of the Orthodox[’]. This statement is, I am sure, not correct because the Tomb of Galla Placidia is nowhere near the Baptistry of the Orthodox which lies the other side of the city (2 miles or so)!! one cannot go directly into one or the other. (J. Fletcher to [Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd], 26 Apr [1973], 1-2. WMcGP Bx 3, Fd 3, MD,LOC).

Although the baptistery is not anything like two miles away from the tomb, it is in another part of the city, a considerable walk of many blocks amounting to a half a mile or so. And this truly does make the language of going directly from one to the other at the very least unusual.20 In his 15 May 1973 response, Norman Franklin, writing on behalf of the publisher, bemoaned the fact that ‘the Editor concerned with the book did not bother to check Jung’s memories [...] and he died about ten years ago,’ making it impossible to correct. He did however suggest the possibility that the matter might be rectified in ‘a future critical edition.’ Franklin passed the letter on to William McGuire, who, in turn, sent it to Aniela Jaffé, at the same time writing to Fletcher as well explaining that MDR was not part of Jung’s Collected Works, and that it was Jaffé ‘alone who decides on and approves changes in the text.’ (William McGuire to J. Fletcher, 18 May 1973. WMcGP Bx 3, Fd 3, MD,LOC). McGuire suggested that, in his own view, ‘Jung’s apparent errors in 19 On the alabaster widows, see E. Tileston’s description of her visit to the Tomb of Galla Placidia on 27 April 1906 (Tileston 1915:110). For a view of the baptistery’s windows at the turn of the last century, see Ricci (1900:[15]). 20 Anschließend in the German edition (ETG:312), ‘Dann gingen sie ins nahegelegene Baptisterium’ (Knoll), Direkt in the Protocols, which give as the destination not the Orthodox but the Arian Baptistery (Prot. A.127, cf. B.46, F.621). But both baptisteries are a considerable distance from the Tomb of Galla Placidia.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 89

remembering (some 30 years later) the religious sites of Ravenna are of equal interest with his fantasy of the mosaics’. He also suggested that since Fletcher was apparently the first to take concete issue with MDR’s account of the Ravenna incident, he might consider writing up a small article and submitting it to Spring Journal then edited by James Hillman, whose address McGuire passed along. And that is where the matter ended. And yet all the while a possible solution to the conundrum suggested itself in a part of the Protocols that never made it into MDR. For Jung the memory of his going directly from the tomb of Galla Placidia to the Baptistery of the Orthodox played an important part in his explanation of the mosaics being a ‘momentary new creation by the unconscious’ whose ‘immediate cause [...] lay [...] in a projection of his anima upon Galla Placidia’ (MDR:286, n. 6). ‘During a stormy crossing from Byzantium to Ravenna in the worst of winter,’ explained MDR, ‘she made a vow that if she came through safely, she would build a church and have the perils of the sea represented in it’ (286). Similarly, in his ‘confrontation with the anima,’ Jung had also ‘come close to drowning,’ a connection which, as he suggested, might cast ‘a certain light’ on the mosaic vision (MDR:285).21 From this perspective Jung could have merely wanted to stress that the visit to the second site occurred soon enough after the first for Jung’s intense feelings of connectedness with Galla Placidia to still be active and psychically effectual. But, in fact, there appears to have been more to it. In MDR we are told that upon leaving the Baptistery Jung went to Alinari to buy pictures, but found none. Given that time ‘was pressing’ since it ‘was only a short visit,’ he decided to postpone trying to obtain pictures until later (285). At this point in the Protocols, Jung explains that the reason time was pressing was that they still wanted to see San Vitale. The Tomb of Galla Placida is actually on the grounds of San Vitale, quite literally in its back yard, so that if you want to see it today you have to present your ticket at the San Vitale gate and approach the tomb either by walking around, or more conveniently, through San Vitale.22 So, if for some reason Jung and Wolff went from the tomb to the baptistery and

21 The last point, about a certain light being cast on the vision by the connection is part of a paragraph not included in the Protocols. 22 Nachdem wir das Baptisterium verlassen hatten, stürzte ich sogleich zu Alinari, um mir Photographien von den Mosaiken zu kaufen. Dort habe ich natürlich nichts gefunden. Ich habe auch davon Abstand genommen weiter zu suchen, weil die Zeit drängte. Wir wollten noch nach San Vitale. So habe ich mir diesen Einkauf aufgespart für spӓter. Am andern Tag sind wir wieder abgereist, und ich bin nicht mehr dazu gekommen, noch einmal zu Alinari zu gehen (Prot. A.128, B.47, F. 622). Note that they did not even leave Ravenna the same day they visited the baptistery.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 90

then back to San Vitale, that would indeed represent an unusual departure from the usual itinerary for visiting those sites. In light of this, it seems perfectly natural for them to say they went ‘directly’ from the tomb to the baptistery, and only afterward back to San Vitale, rather than doing the more obvious thing of viewing the tomb and San Vitale together first and then going on to the baptistery. Perhaps since San Vitale is one of the most magnificent churches in Ravenna, they wanted to visit the baptistery first, since it was small, and then save San Vitale for last.

DID JUNG MISREMEMBER WHERE THE MOSAIC VISION HAPPENED? Disparities in the accounts led the author to consider another possibility. What if Jung had gotten confused as to where he and Toni Wolff saw the mosaics? What if he had simply sent C.A. Meier to the wrong place, with the predictable result? What if the mosaics in question were to be found in some side chapel or alcove of one of Ravenna’s other great, mosaic-clad UNESCO World Heritage ecclesiastical monuments: Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo, Sant’ Apollinare in Classe,23 San Vitale, the Arian Baptistery, the Archiepiscopal Chapel, or the Tomb of Galla Placidia itself?24 I later learned that already in 1957 the same question had troubled publisher Kurt Wolff, who had instigated the MDR project. Wolff sought an answer to the question from the eminent art historian Erwin Panofsky (Kurt Wolff to Erwin Panofsky, 7 Dec 1957. Thanks to Sonu Shamdasani for telling me about this letter and providing a copy). But, as I would soon discover, he need not have worried because Jung was not confused on that point.25 The single exception, to be discussed later, is 23 Although Sant’ Apollinare in Classe is not in Ravenna itself, Jung’s having visited there is suggested by the fact that postcard pictures from there are still in the Jung collection (acc. to Thomas Fischer to the author, 26 Mar 2019), and by Jung’s comment about his and Schmid-Guisan’s ‘highly enjoyable bicycle tour which took us to Ravenna, where we rode along the sand through the waves of the sea’ (Jung 1930:761). Classe was Ravenna’s ancient port, long since silted in, but still nearer the seaside than Ravenna itself. 24 There is actually one other monument on the UNESCO World Heritage site list in Ravenna, namely the mausoleum of Theodoric, in which no interior decorative program is retained except for the outline of a cross in the roundel above the porphyry bathtub- shaped object which presumably served as Theodoric’s sarcophagus. 25 In order to cover the bases on this score when travelling to Ravenna (see below), I set myself beforehand the task of photographing every scene from every mosaic in every UNESCO site, along with anything else I came upon that might seem even remotely relevant. This I was able to accomplish with the only exception being the relatively

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 91

a confusion in the accounts as to whether the vision took place in the Arian Baptistery (the Protocols) or the Baptistery of the Orthodox (all the other accounts except Knoll). Jung gave one other detail beyond the mosaics we may look to when trying to answer the where question, namely the reference in the Bennett account to the ‘bluish light, though there was no artificial lighting’ (1985:80). Jung remarks on this unusual blue light in most of the other accounts as well.26 The reference to the mysterious blue light endows the accounts with a certain numinous quality, especially given Jung’s claim that there had been ‘no artificial lighting.’ But for me it raised the more straightforward question as to which mosaic programs in which Ravenna buildings might cause such a phenomenon to occur under certain light conditions? And it was actually in thinking about this blue light, that it became obvious that a trip to Ravenna itself would be necessary if I hoped to answer the question posed by my title.

GALLA PLACIDIA’S SAN GIOVANNI EVANGELISTA

Fig. 2: San Giovanni Evangelista

In view of Jung’s account, one of the most surprising things I encountered upon arriving in Ravenna and walking from the train station along Viale Carlo Luigi Farini towards the centre of the old city was the imposing form of the 5th century basilica of San Giovanni Evangelista

small Archiepiscopal Chapel where photography was not permitted. 26 ‘A misty blue light’ (Harding 1948:184), ‘the mild blue light that filled the room’ (MDR:284), ‘ein merkwürdig blaues Licht’ (Prot. A.127, cf. B.46, F.621), ‘wie mit blauen Licht ausgefüllt’ (Knoll).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 92

grandly rising to my left scarcely more than a block from the station (Fig. 2). This was the church Galla Placidia had built and decorated with mosaics in fulfilment of the vow she made at sea while in danger of drowning, the church Jung reported as having been destroyed by fire along with its mosaics in the ‘early Middle Ages’ (MDR:286). And yet, there it was, still standing. To get into the basilica itself you must go around to the other end of the edifice and enter the atrium courtyard through a 14th century gothic marble gateway that depicts an incident in which John the Evangelist purportedly appeared to the Empress and left his sandal behind in order to provide the basilica with a proper relic (cf. Schoolman 2016:107-108). As already noted, Jung seemed to imply, or at least that is how several writers have interpreted him, that the visionary mosaics he and Toni Wolff saw in 1932 represented spontaneous recreations of mosaics that had perished long ago in the fire that had allegedly destroyed this basilica. But, in fact, San Giovanni Evangelist wasn’t destroyed in their early Middle Ages (although it was badly damaged in World War II by a bomb intended for the nearby rail yard), nor were its mosaics destroyed by fire. They were actually removed in 1568 and replaced with a new iconographic program partly at least consisting of frescos.

3: Francesco Longhi, Vow of Galla Placidia (detail), 1568

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 93

Jung spoke of the existence of a sketch of Galla Placidia in a boat in the Ambrosiana in Milan, which he says he never saw (MDR:286; Harding 1948:185; Knoll). But there is also still extant a fresco painting by Francesco Longhi nearer at hand that is actually from San Giovanni entitled Vow of Galla Placidia during the Tempest. It is on display in Ravenna itself in the Museo Nazionale Ravenna in the Cloister of San Vitale (Fig. 3).27 It was produced in 1568, that is to say, in the same year the old mosaics were taken down, and therefore may have been intended as a replacement for the mosaic version of the scene being removed.

Fig. 4: Reconstructions of the ancient mosaic program in Galla Placidia’s San Giovanni Evangelista

One of the first things I encountered upon entering the basilica were two posters representing alternative reconstructions of the original mosaic program (Fig. 4).28 Both contain the same basic elements but distributed somewhat differently on the apse wall.

27 Voto di Galla Placidia durante la tempesta, Francesco Longhi (Ravenna, 1544-1618) 1568, Affresco staccato, Dalla basilica de San Giovanni Evangelista, Ravenna (Museo Nazionale Ravenna, inv. n. 12095). 28 The relevant description is conveniently available in English in Davis-Weyer (1986:15-17).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 94

The reason the original mosaics can be confidently recreated is that Girolamo Rossi (Hieronymus Rubeus) provided a full description of them, presumably from personal knowledge, in his Historiarum Ravennatum, libri decem, which was published in 1572, only four years after they were removed (Rossi 1572:85-86). Yet even long before Rossi, the ninth-century writer Agnellus of Ravenna in his Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis (Book of the Pontiffs [Bishops] of the Church of Ravenna) had also included descriptions of key details in the mosaic (Agnellus 2004:124,151).29 Both reconstructions showed two images of Galla Placidia in a boat on either side of the top-most band. The centrepiece of the entire iconographical program was Christ ‘seated on a throne and illuminating the whole basilica’ (Rossi in Davis-Weyer 1986:17). He is surrounded by twelve sealed books and holds an open book in his hand that contains the words of Matthew 5:7, ‘Blessed are the merciful for the shall obtain mercy.’ In the centre above the bishop’s cathedra was a mosaic depiction of St. Peter Chrysologus (431-450) with his arms outstretched chanting the mass. We shall have more to say about Chrysologus later. According to the information we have, then, the mosaics Jung and Toni Wolff saw in the Baptistery of the Orthodox were likely not miraculous recreations of the mosaics that once decorated San Giovanni Evangelista. The descriptions given by Agnellus, Rossi, and Muratori, in any case, do not match those given by Jung.30

THE ‘SO-CALLED’ TOMB OF GALLA PLACIDIA Another point of interest relating to the interpretation of Jung’s attribution of the mosaic vision to ‘a projection of his anima upon Galla Placidia,’ is the question of where Galla Placidia’s body was actually buried, where her actual tomb is to be found. Jung felt that the fact that he and Toni

29 The above-mentioned texts by Agnellus and Rossi, along with another, In dedicatione Ecclesiae Sancti Johannis Evangelistae and Item de Dedicatione Ecclesiae Sancti Johannis Evangelistae in Ludovico Muratori’s Rerum italicarum Scriptore (1725:567- 572), are also conveniently displayed in parallel columns in Deichmann (1974:108- 111), with Deichmann’s introduction on 107-108 and his extensive commentary on 111-124. 30 Granting that some doubt remains due to the fact that the 9th and 16th century accounts only relate to the decoration of the front of the Church, the apse and surrounding wall. One of the side chapels, for example, contains the remnants of frescoes attributed to Giotto (1266-1337) of a crucifixion scene on the wall and of the four Evangelists and Doctors of the Church on the ceiling.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 95

Wolff went directly from the building now called Galla Placidia’s tomb to the baptistery was instrumental in bringing about the visionary event. But whatever connection Jung experienced with the Empress Galla Placidia, it did not arise from a nearness of her physical remains. The tomb contains three sarcophagi, one of which is labeled ‘Sarcophagus so-called of “Galla Placidia”’, and goes on to explain that it is really not Galla Placidia’s, since she ‘was almost certainly buried in Rome, where she died in 450 A.D’. Despite the little yellow signs outside the monument which still describe it as the ‘Mausoleo di Galla Placidia,’ in scholarly writing since Bovini ‘the structure has been more correctly referred to as the “so-called mausoleum”’ (Bovini 1950:14-18;1956:7, acc. to Deliyannis 2001:289-291, n. 2). There is in fact no contemporary account as to where Galla Placidia was buried (Deliyannis 2001:289), nor of the construction of the cruciform chapel in Ravenna now identified as her tomb (Mackie 1995:396).31 The claim that Galla Placidia was buried there dates from the 13th century (Deliyannis 2001:293), although in the 9th century Agnellus passed along a popular belief that she was buried in the monasterium of St. Nazarius, a part of San Vitale where a number of the bishops of Ravenna were buried. San Vitale, however, was not built until the century after Galla Placidia’s death (Agnellus 2004:151, n. 33; Deliyannis 2001:293-294).

THE ARIAN BAPTISTERY OR THE BAPTISTERY OF THE ORTHODOX? The confusion in the sources alluded to earlier, as to whether the mosaic vision took place in the Arian Baptistery and the Baptistery of the Orthodox, it became immediately clear upon visiting both that the latter was eminently more likely. Both are built on more or less the same pattern, although the Baptistery of the Orthodox is taller. Both are octagonal with almost identical windows. In his description of the setting of the vision Jung told Bennet that ‘In the centre was the font, it was big for it was used for immersion’ (Bennet 1985:80). That is true of the Baptistery of the Orthodox, which indeed has an enormous baptismal font, but not of the Arian Baptistery, whose font is not present and was already gone before either of Jung’s Ravenna trips.32

31 Mackie 1995:396: ‘...there is no mention of the mausoleum [Ravenna’s so-called Tomb of Galla Placidia] in any document or inscription until half a millennium after it was built’. 32 F. Hamilton Jackson’s remark that ‘In the pavement, which is six or seven feet above the original level, is a large round piece of Oriental granite, which is thought to be part

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 96

In addition, the walls of the Arian Baptistery are all of bare, sandy coloured, reused Roman bricks (Deliyannis 2010:180). No ancient decoration of any kind remains on the walls. There is only the famous central ceiling mosaic showing the baptism of Jesus. In contrast, the Baptistery of the Orthodox is heavily decorated throughout, and very much dominated by a deep-blue mosaic ground. It further became clear that if Jung’s memory was correct in equating blue light with the building where the mosaic vision took place, it reduced the possibilities to three locations: (1) the Tomb of Galla Placidia itself, (2) the chapel in the Archiepiscopal Palace/Museum, and (3) The Baptistery of the Orthodox. The intensity of the effect in these three locations is due to the dominant dark-blue ground of the mosaics and differs somewhat according to light and weather conditions outside.33 But as to Jung’s claim that there was ‘no artificial lighting,’ at the time, while such might have been a possibility during his 1914 visit, by 1932 electric lights would have almost certainly been in place, probably since c. 1911 for the Tomb of Galla Placidia and c. 1919 for the Archiepiscopal Palace/Museum and the Baptistery of the Orthodox.34 Very possibly Jung hadn’t noticed the electric lights because they were unobtrusively placed, just as they are today. In any case my initial visit to all three of these buildings left me feeling much as C.A. Meier must have felt when he visited in 1932 and reported back that the mosaics Jung saw were not there. I suspect the problem was that the expectations provided in advance as to what Meier (and I) were looking for, caused both of us to overlook key details that told the real story. In fact, what I ultimately discovered in Ravenna, was that the things Jung spoke about were/are, in a sense, really there, just where

of the Arian font’ (1906:261). Jackson’s description agrees precisely with what we see there now. At present the granite circle in question is smooth and flush with the rest of the pavement, with a crack that runs through it. 33 The site where this blue light is most strongly displayed is in the Tomb of Galla Placidia. The windows of thinly sliced, translucent carmel-coloured alabaster limit and tint the incoming light, making the discreetly placed electric light the primary source of light. The author vividly recalls a tourist in the tomb whose white shirt and white socks appeared almost neon blue. 34 Paola Novara of the Museo Nazionale Ravenna, informs me that electric lights came to Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo in 1903-1905, to the Cathedral in 1919, to San Vitale in 1911, and to the Cloister of San Vitale in 1914. She also suggested that the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia likely received electric lights at around the same time as San Vitale and the Baptistery of the Orthodox at around the same time as the Cathedral (which would probably also apply to the Archiepiscopal Palace and Chapel) (Paola Novara to the author, Feb 2016).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 97

he said they were, in the Baptistery of the Orthodox. But not in the form he remembered. I would like to say I discovered the crucial key piece of evidence through my own observation in the baptistery, but in fact when I entered it the second time, I already knew what it was. I had stumbled across it in the little shop next door in the Archiepiscopal Palace, for all I know the same location Jung described as ‘a shop opposite,’ where he and Toni Wolff had gone looking for photographs more than 80 years before (Bennet 1985:81). It was in a small book by a certain Giovanni Montanari, published by the Diocese of Ravenna (2001:73-74). The remarkable thing is that there was really no reason I should have missed it on my first visit to the baptistry, but I did. And because I did, it makes me less surprised that C.A. Meier did as well. The accompanying chart marked Figure 5 shows the contents of the four visionary mosaics as presented in Jung’s five different accounts of them. We notice that the only scene that all the accounts agree on was Peter sinking beneath the waves, and Christ rescuing him. It was clearly the one Jung thought most significant, due to the danger of death by drowning implied.

Oct 1932 Jun 1948 Jan 1957 Aug 1957 May 1958 (MDR:284-285/ (Jung 1932a:16) (Harding (Bennet 1985:81) Prot. A.127, etc.) (Max Knoll) 1948:184) (1) Peter sinks (1) Peter sinks (1) Peter sinks (4) Peter sinks (4) Peter sinks under the waves under the waves under the waves under the waves under the waves (West)* (2) Not named (2) Moses (2) Passing (2) Passing (2) Passing bringing water through the Red through the Red through the Red from the rock Sea Sea (North) Sea (3) Christ’s (3) Jonah and (3) Naaman the (3) Naaman the (3) Lazarus baptism the whale leper leper (East) (4) Christ’s (4) Miraculous (4) Christ’s (1) Christ’s (1) Christ’s baptism catch of fish baptism baptism (South) baptism

*MDR and the Protocols agree on the order of mention, but the only mosaic explicitly associated with a point of the compass in the Protocols is the one showing Peter sinking, which they link to the West side (underlined) (A.127, c.f. B.46, F.621). Fig. 5: The 5 Versions of the Mosaic Vision

In his 12 October 1932 lecture on Kundalini Yoga, Jung contrasted present day Christianity, in which ‘there is no danger in being baptized’ with the baptism portrayed in the Baptistery of the Orthodox which, he said, dates ‘from the fourth or the beginning of the fifth century, when the baptism was still a mystery cult,’ and ‘a symbolical drowning,’

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 98

accompanied by ‘the danger of being swallowed by the monster’ (Jung 1932a:16). However, Jung’s description of the interpretation of baptism as ‘still a mystery cult,’ at the time of the original decoration of the Baptistery of the Orthodox is not correct. Christianity at that period in Ravenna rather represented triumphant Imperial Orthodoxy. By the time the baptistery was initially built in the early 5th century under Ravenna’s 16th bishop, Ursus (c. 405-431?), and decorated under its 18th bishop, Neon (c. 450-473), the main lines of Christian Orthodoxy had already been firmly drawn. So there can be little doubt as to what the actual baptismal liturgy was like that was performed in the baptistery in its earliest days, nor how little it would have differed from the current baptismal liturgies of the Western Roman Catholic and the Eastern Orthodox Churches. 35 This can be clearly seen in descriptions of the baptismal liturgy in the contemporary writings of Ravenna’s prolific Peter Chrysologus, Ravenna’s 17th bishop (between Ursus and Neon), and especially in those given by the nearby and near-contemporary Ambrose of Milan (374-397). In fact, the baptismal ritual as it would have been practiced in the early days of the Baptistery of the Orthodox has been ably reconstructed by Wharton (1987:358-375), and further described by Marchal (2016:22-25, 27-28).36

Fig. 6: Stucco figures of Jonah and the Sea Monsters, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, and Christus Victor

35 With the exception of adult baptism taking place in the nude at that time, or at least in an advanced state of undress (Ferguson 2009:330), and the rise to universal prominence of infant baptism after this period. 36 The decisive 4th ecumenical council, the Council of Chalcedon, took place during Ravenna’s Bishop Neon’s second year in office (451). We will recall that it was Neon who decorated the Baptistery of the Orthodox.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 99

Despite all this, Jung was correct in saying that the association of baptism to drowning, and the danger of death generally, is present to some degree in the baptistery’s decorative program. In the second band of decorations, distributed between the baptistery’s eight windows, are stucco figures of sixteen Old Testament prophets. In small niches above each prophet are much smaller stucco scenes, three of which are especially relevant in linking baptism to the danger of death. In one account Jung spoke a mosaic depicting Jonah and the whale. Although there is no such mosaic in the baptistery, one of the small stuccos in this second band shows Jonah being attacked by not one but two whales (or more precisely sea monsters). There is also another small stucco showing Daniel between two lions in the lions’ den. And then, as if associating elements from those two, a third shows a Christus Victor scene, a youthful Christ as victorious warrior, with his cross over his shoulder, an open bible in his hand, and his feet on the necks of a serpent and a lion (Fig. 6). 37 To us the animals that have taken hold of Jonah look more like dogs than sea monsters, but such they are. Indeed, similar features (e.g., ears, front legs) also appear on the sea monster waiting to swallow Jonah on the 6th century ivory Murano Diptych in the Museo Nazionale Ravenna, although in that case the animal has a proper sea-monster tail (Fig. 7).

Fig. 7: Jonah scene from the Dittico di Murano (Murano Diptych), First half of the 6th century, Museo Nazionale Ravenna (Inv. N. 1002).

That Jung remembered seeing a depiction of Jonah is explicitly mentioned in the Esther Harding account (1948:184), but there is a reference in Jung’s 1932 account that may also allude to the Jonah stucco

37 This third image echoes the more famous mosaic of the same motif above the entry of the Archiepiscopal Chapel.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 100

when he speaks about the decorations of the chapel associating baptism ‘with the danger of being swallowed by the monster’ (Jung 1932a:160). In early Christian art, the stories of Jonah and Daniel were commonly seen as symbolically representative of death and resurrection. And yet Jung intuited correctly that finding such scenes in a baptistery was at the very least unusual. As Robin M. Jensen points out: ‘Despite their symbolic associations with baptismal rebirth and their frequent appearance in funereal iconography [...] Lazarus, Jonah, and Daniel rarely, if ever, appear in surviving decoration of early Christian baptisteries.’ ‘The exception,’ she explains in a footnote, ‘is the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna, which includes stucco decoration that shows Jonah and Daniel’ (Jensen 2012:149, n. 49). But all this is secondary to what Meier had missed and I hadn’t noticed on my own first visit. In the initial 1932 account, Jung only mentions two baptism scenes and the scene of Peter sinking and calling out to Jesus. The later, more elaborate descriptions of four large mosaics all date from many years later, one from 1948, two from 1957, and one from 1958. And, as we said before, the only mosaic that appears in all his accounts is that of Peter sinking and calling out to Jesus. As it turns out, Jung wasn’t making that up, he was simply misremembering it. What one has to do when visiting the chapel to see this is to read the elaborate Latin mosaic passages that run along the top edges of the arches above the baptistery’s four large niches. In particular it is the inscription on the south-west arch, just to your right as you enter the octagonal building, that captured Jung’s particular attention. That inscription paraphrases Matthew 14:29-32 and reads: ‘Jesus, walking on the sea, takes the sinking Peter by the hand and at the command of the Lord the wind ceased.’ This was the ‘crucial key’ I spoke of earlier.38 The four arches contain two paraphrases of New Testament verses, and two quotations from the Latin Vulgate Book of Psalms as follows:

38 Montanari 2001:73-74. I subsequently found it discussed in a number of works, including especially Kostof (1965:59), whose general discussion of the arches (57- 93) contributed significantly to my discussion here. For large clear photographs of the Ravenna mosaics, including the interior decorations of the Baptistery of the Orthodox, see Dresken-Weiland (2016).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 101

South-West Arch

IH[SU]S AMBULA[N]S SUPER MARE PETRO MERGENTI MANUM CAPIT ET IUBENTE DOM[I]NO VENTUS CESSAVIT.

‘Jesus, walking on the sea, takes the sinking Peter by the hand, and at the command of the Lord the wind ceased.’ (paraphrase of Matthew 14:29-32)

South-East Arch

BEATI QUORUM REMISSAE SUNT INIQUITATES ET QUORUM TECTA SUNT PECCATA BEATUS VIR CUI NON IMPUTAVIT DOMINUS PECCATUM

‘Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord hath not imputed sin.’ (Psalm 32 [31]: 1-2a, Douay-Rheims)

North-East Arch

UBI DEPOSUIT IH[SU]S VESTIMENTA SUA ET MISIT AQUAM IN PELVEM ET LABIT PEDES DISCIPULORUM SUORUM

‘When Jesus had laid aside his garments, and put water in a basin and he washed the feet of his disciples.’ (Paraphrase of John 13:4-5)

North-West Arch IN LOCUM PASCUAE IBI ME CONLOCAVIT SUPER AQUA REFECTIONIS EDOCAVIT ME

‘He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment.’ (Psalms 23 [22]: 2, Douay-Rheims)

All four inscriptions have to do, directly or indirectly, with water, but not with the danger of drowning. The only one reflecting that is the one with Peter sinking down and calling for help, the only mosaic Jung mentioned in all the accounts (Fig. 8). There are a number of things that need to be said about this arch. When we ask how far back the mosaic inscription about Peter’s drowning goes, that is to say, whether it goes all the way back to the time of the original decoration, when according to Jung, Christianity was ‘still a mystery cult,’ there is a complication. When Giovanni Ciampini made the earliest extant depiction of the baptistery’s arches and their inscriptions in the late seventeenth century, he represented the arch that today contains the inscription about Peter as completely blank except for a portion of a central monogram (Ciampini

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 102

1690-1699:234-235, Pl. 69.2; see also Bard 1844:27).39 (See Fig. 9).

Fig. 8: The south-west arch in the Baptistery of the Orthodox, which reads: Ih[su]s ambula[n]s super mare Petro mergenti manum capit et iubente Dom[i]no ventus cessavit (‘Jesus, walking on the sea, takes the sinking Peter by the hand and at the command of the Lord the wind ceased’).

Fig. 9: Ciampini’s 17th cent. Baptistery of the Orthodox arches showing the South-Western ‘drowning Peter’ arch as completely blank except for a monogram.

And yet later, when Rafaelle Garrucci proposed his own restoration of the inscriptions he apparently felt that at least some of the words of the Peter inscription could still be discerned. Presenting the inscription as it is today, we put those letters Garrucci thought were still present in uppercase

39 But notice that the central monogram in Ciampini’s drawing does not match the current one. He also appears to have simply recopied the monogram of the third band down into the fourth, perhaps because the actual monogram in the fourth band was much more complicated.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 103

and those completely lost in lowercase: ‘ih[su]s AMBULAns SUPER MARE PETRO MERGENTI MANum capit et iubenTE DOM[I]No ventus cessavit’ (Garrucci 1873-1881:37-38). If what Garrucci says is correct, the major elements of the statement survived and the basic inscription might indeed be ancient. Garrucci’s proposed restoration differed slightly from the one we see today, and the one Jung would have seen in 1932. The current restoration was already in place by 1878 (Richter 1878:22). Meier, who was apparently quite fluent in Latin (Kirsh 1996:292), failed to notice these mosaic arch inscriptions. Yet it is not entirely surprising given the fact that abbreviations are used, words run together, and the passages of Scripture are interrupted in the middle of three of the four arches by complicated monograms. But, as we said before, it also may simply be because he had been given to expect pictures not texts. But however that may be, Jung himself appears to have noticed them and worked out at least the one dealing with Peter sinking down.

PETER SINKING OR THE JORDAN RISING? The other item calling for explanation is Jung’s firm insistence that he remembered not just a text but an image of Peter’s sinking and being rescued. In all his accounts he mentions this, but stresses it most emphatically in the MDR:

I retained the most distinct memory of the mosaic of Peter sinking, and to this day can see every detail before my eyes: the blue of the sea, individual chips of the mosaic, the inscribed scrolls proceeding from the mouths of Peter and Christ, which I attempted to decipher (MDR:285, agreeing with the Prot. A.128, cf. B.47, F.622).

It is important to remember that Jung’s recollection here was taken down in 1957, a full quarter century after the event. Furthermore, two details in Jung’s account might seem to signal the fact that his memory of what he saw was not precise. One is his reference to the ‘inscribed scrolls [Spruchbӓnder], proceeding from the mouths of Peter and Christ’ (Prot. A.128, cf. B.47, F.622 and ETG:313). In saying this Jung is anachronistically projecting a feature very common, say, in 14th or 15th century European art back into the 4th through 6th century Christian mosaics of Ravenna where such are not to be found. The other detail is that despite the mention here of ‘individual chips of

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 104

the mosaic,’ a shadow of doubt as to whether the four scenes Jung saw were mosaics or frescos is reflected in the Protocols, the remainders of which show themselves in the use of the compromise term ‘mosaic frescoes’ to describe them in MDR (284 = Mosaikfresken in ETG:312). The Protocols themselves alternate between calling them mosaics and frescoes.40 However, It is actually hard to believe that this confusion derived from Jung himself, given the extent to which he attempted to simulate mosaics in his own art, as for example, in the Red Book (Hoch 2018:41-42 and Jung 2009:11,32,72, 79, 107,133). Since we now know that Jung was responding in other cases to real items in the baptistery, it seems likely as well that he did not simply invent or imagine the image he had in mind of Peter sinking down. That being the case, an explanation might be found in Jung’s having actually misinterpreted another item in the baptistery’s iconographic program that was actually there, but did not represent Peter at all. In the baptismal scene medallion on the ceiling of the baptistery, we are not surprised to see the two figures of John the Baptist and Jesus. And yet, on the lower right of the mosaic we also see a third figure emerging from the water, a figure whom, I am suggesting, Jung took to be Peter sinking beneath the waves and lifting his hand towards Jesus (Fig. 10).

Fig. 10: The Personified Jordan does homage to Jesus, The Baptistery of the Orthodox

40 Especially Prot. A.128 where the original ‘Fresken’ is marked out with ‘Mosaiken’ typed in above it. The correction is then taken over in the two later drafts, B.47, F. 622. See, also, the use of the two terms in Prot. A.127, B.46, F.621.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 105

But the figure is not Peter, he is the river god representing a personification of the Jordan river (Jensen 1993:36). As strange as it may seem to us now, the presence of the personified Jordan in scenes of the Baptism of Jesus was already on its way to becoming an iconographical commonplace when the mosaic was first installed. The reason he is there is to show the reaction of the Jordan to the baptism of Jesus. We see him as well in the baptismal scene of Ravenna’s Arian Baptistery (Fig. 11), and in the baptism panel on the back of the sixth-century throne of Bishop Maximian on display in Ravenna’s Archiepiscopal Palace/Museum, just next door to the Baptistery of the Orthodox. Another example from the period is a sixth-century ivory in the British Museum. The theme of the personified Jordan reacting to Jesus’ baptism was also a common motif in the preaching of the period. We see this, for example, in a Sermon by St. Peter Chrysologus (d. 450):

…if the Father thunders from heaven, if the Son stirs up the waters of the Jordan, if the Holy Spirit appears in bodily fashion from on high, why is it that the Jordan, who fled at the presence of the Ark of the Covenant, did not run away when the whole Trinity is present? Why is it? It is because the one who shows homage and deference [i.e., the Jordan] begins to be fearful no longer. (Sermon 169.5, A Fourth on Epiphany / Chrysologus 2005:280).

Chrysologus, one of the figures depicted in the mosaics of Galla Placidia’s San Giovanni Evangelista, was the bishop of Ravenna and the immediate predecessor of bishop Neon who originally decorated the Baptistery of the Orthodox.41 Other examples may be cited. St. Jerome (d. 420) similarly personifies the Jordan, which, he says, ‘dried up when Josue led the Israelites into the Land of Promise, [but] now longed to gather together all its waters into one place, if it could, to bathe the body of the Lord’ (Homily 89, For Epiphany / Jerome 2004:230). Or again, slightly earlier, St. Cyril of Jerusalem (d. 386) who wrote that: ‘Since then before His coming in the flesh, the sea saw Him and fled, and Jordan was driven back, the Lord took to Himself His body, that the sea might endure to behold Him, and that Jordan might without fear receive Him’ (Catechetical Lectures 12.15 / Cyril 1839:130). The depictions of the personified Jordan in the baptismal scenes in

41 The Baptistery of the Orthodox is sometimes called the Neonian Baptistery because it was originally decorated under Bishop Neon.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 106

Ravenna’s two baptisteries represent him as fearlessly showing deference to Christ, as in Chrysologus’s and Cyril’s comments. But in the one on the back of Maximian’s ivory throne and the British Museum ivory he is either busily gathering up water, as in Jerome’s remarks, or turning to flee, in reenactment and fulfillment of the Exodus event described in Psalms 114:3: ‘The sea looked and fled, Jordan turned back’ (NRSV). The inclusion of the personified Jordan has persisted in Orthodox Iconography, such that, as Jensen points out, ‘The figure still appears in most Orthodox Icons of the Baptism’ (Jensen 2012:186, n. 34, cf. Ouspensky & Lossky 1982:164-165). It is he that is alluded to, though not explicitly named, in the Painters Manual of the 17th and 18th century Orthodox writer Dionysius of Fourna, who indicates in his pattern for Icons of the Baptism of Jesus, that ‘Below the Forerunner in the Jordan is a naked old man lying bent up, who looks back at Christ in fear and holds an urn from which pours water’ (1989:33). Although none of the Ravenna depictions show the personified Jordan with an urn with water pouring out of it, an ivory panel from the Werden Casket (5th cent.-800), now in London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, does. 42 Similarly the famous Drago Sacramentary (c. 845–55)43 combines the Jordan’s urn with Jerome’s theme of the river’s longing ‘to gather together all its waters into one place [...] to bathe the body of the Lord.’44 If we are right in thinking that Jung made the mistake described, it helps us make sense of his comment that ‘at least the main features’ of what he and Toni Wolff saw ‘had been the same.’ (MDR:285). According to Bennet, when Jung told Wolff the news that no such mosaics existed, she responded, ‘That’s ridiculous, I saw them with my own eyes and you

42 Jensen dates it to the early 5th century (2012:186, Fig. 5.1), but the Victoria and Albert Museum settles instead on a date of ‘about 800’ (http://collections.vam.ac.uk/ item/O92731/the-annunciation-at-the-spring-panel-unknown/). 43 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale (MS lat. 9428). 44 The theme of the piling up of the Jordan’s waters continued to be encountered in baptismal scenes even where the Jordan was not personified. One of the most remarkable examples is the dramatic upward thrusting water that dominates the composition of a 9th cent. ivory cover on a Gospel book now in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (BSB Clm 4451). In the ivory baptism scene on the Svanhild portable altar in the museum of Austria’s Stift Melk (c. 1050-1075?), Jesus is shown wrapped to his chest in water as one might be wrapped in a blanket. We sometimes as well see scenes of Jesus being baptized simply in a free-standing pile of water, see e.g., Rainer (Renier) of Huy’s Baptismal Font at St. Bartholomew’s Church, Liège, Belgium (1107- 1118), the South Netherlandish plaque (1150-1175) at the Metropolitan Museum in New York (17.190.430), and the 13th cent. French enameled and gilded copper Baptism of Christ plaque at the Boston Museum of Fine Art (50.858).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 107

Fig. 11: Scenes with Jordan Personified. (R-L) Top: the Baptistery of the Orthodox, The Arian Baptistery. Bottom: Maximian’s ivory throne (Garrucci), A 6th cent. ivory in the British Museum.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 108

talked of them for about twenty minutes!’ (Bennet 1985:81, my italics). To put it in another way, Toni Wolff saw things in the baptistery and Jung interpreted what she saw for her. And from this perspective Wolff could indeed have felt very confident that she really had ‘seen’ what Jung was describing. Another point it makes sense of is Jung’s firm conviction about seeing ‘the blue of the sea, individual chips of the mosaic, the inscribed scrolls proceeding from the mouths of Peter and Christ, which I attempted to decipher’ (MDR:285). The mosaic background surrounding the personified Jordan in the baptistery is not blue but gold. However, the stone fragments making up the mosaic settings for the four passages on the arches that Jung ‘attempted to decipher’ are a deep, beautiful blue. The picture, then, that finally emerges probably went something like this: Jung and Toni Wolff go to see the Baptistery of the Orthodox. Jung begins translating and explaining what is written above the arches. When he comes to the one about Peter sinking, he starts to make connections to other links between baptism and death in the larger iconographical program of the baptistery. He points out the mosaic in the centre of the ceiling that seemed to him to represent a combined scene of the baptism of Jesus by John and the saving of Peter from sinking down in the water.45 He calls her attention as well to the three stuccos of Daniel, Jonah, and the triumphant Christ. Afterward he recalls all these details as being presented in four mosaics. But the ultimate organising basis for his memory was provided by the four arches with their Latin inscriptions.46

45 One wonders whether the figure of the personified Jordan might also stand behind Jung’s recollection in the two 1957 accounts of a mosaic showing Naaman the Leper being cleansed in the Jordan in the time of the Prophet Elisha (2 Kings 5). 46 One question that occurred to me in the process of thinking through the issues addressed in this article is the extent to which Jung’s (and Toni Wolff’s) usually being identified as thinking-intuitive types might have played into Jung’s interpretation of the event (Jung & Freeman 1959:435-436; Wagner & Wagner 1991, Minute 3:22-34; Champernowne 1980:8). As Jolande Jacobi explains, the intuitive type pays ‘little attention to the details but will have no difficulty in discerning the inner meaning of the event, its possible implications and effects [...] in viewing a lovely spring landscape the sensation type will note every detail; the flowers, the trees, the colour of the sky, etc., while the intuitive type will simply register the general atmosphere and colour’ (Jacobi 1973:12). And this is precisely what comes through in Jung’s descriptions of the mosaic event, a focus on the mood of the scene, the mysterious blue light, the strong sense of identification with Galla Placidia’s fearful journey at sea, her oath, and her fear of drowning. A keenly felt sense of atmosphere, which limits the focus of memory to only those details that, as it were, support the overarching mood (cf. Jung 1925:90-92). Although it is admittedly a peripheral question, my own view is that it probably did play a part, and that as such it might be helpful to keep it in mind when analysing other

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 109

CONCLUSION On at least five different occasions, C.G. Jung told the story of how he and Toni Wolff saw and discussed four mosaics in Ravenna that did not exist, that had apparently represented some sort of shared visionary experience. It was, he said, ‘among the most curious events in my life’ (MDR: 285). So far as we know Jung never returned to Ravenna afterwards to investigate the matter further, and his own accounts of it contain significant differences in detail not only with regard to what was seen, i.e., the actual contents of the mosaics, but also precisely when and where the incident took place. Secondary literature discussing the incident has only magnified the confusion surrounding it. The purpose of this article, then, has been to investigate and assess every aspect of this remarkable incident. In the process, the author traveled to Ravenna in order to clarify, to whatever extent possible, what Jung himself might have discovered had he ever returned. The article’s principal conclusions are as follows: First, the Ravenna mosaic incident occurred in 1932, not in 1914 as is currently either asserted or implied in several recent Jung biographies, nor in 1933 or 1934 as is implied in the current English and German editions of Memories, Dreams, Reflections (MDR:284/ETG:312). The 1914 date is based on the evidentially unsubstantial but widely accepted claim that Toni Wolff was Jung’s companion on his first trip to Ravenna. So far as we know Jung only visited Ravenna twice, once in 1914, with his friend Hans Schmid-Guisan, and once in 1932, with Toni Wolff. In addition to the bare fact of Wolff’s presence with Jung in Ravenna in 1932 rather than 1914, a number of the other elements in Jung’s telling of the story conspire to establish beyond doubt that 1932 was the correct date of the Ravenna incident. The implied dates of 1933 and 1934 are the result of imprecise language being used. Jung was not imprecise, however, in the 3 August 1957 interview with Aniela Jaffé that served as the basis for this section of Memories, the date he gave there was 1932. Second, the incident occurred in Ravenna’s Baptistery of the Orthodox, not in the city’s equally famous Arian Baptistery as Jung mistakenly recalled on one occasion, nor in any of Ravenna’s other mosaic-bearing UNESCO World Heritage buildings. Third, what Jung and Toni Wolff saw in the Baptistery of the Orthodox did exist. The event was not some sort of didactic parable, nor was it a joint ‘fantasy,’ as Jung Collected Works editor William McGuire

places in Jung where reports of his experiences play a key role in his analysis of events.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 110

once called it (William McGuire to J. Fletcher, 18 May 1973. WMcGP Bx 3, Fd 3, MD,LOC), nor, finally, was it a startling example of exteriorization phenomena, according to which, ‘constellated unconscious contents often have a tendency to manifest themselves outwardly somehow or other’ (Jung 1950:322). What Jung and Wolff saw was actually there but was partly misremembered and partly misinterpreted, and in each case in ways that might seem to fit well with Jung’s own self-identification as a thinking-intuitive type (Jung & Freeman 1959:435-436. See, further, footnote 46). What Jung actually saw were four Latin inscriptions done in mosaic on the baptistery’s four inner arches, which, along with three stucco scenes (Daniel in the lion’s den, Jonah and the sea monsters, and Christ as Christus Victor), and a misidentified figure in the ceiling mosaic, seemed to contribute to an overarching motif connecting baptism with the danger of death, especially death by drowning. All these elements combined in Jung’s memory to become four large mosaics. The only one of these mosaics whose description remained consistent in all Jung’s accounts was said to depict Peter crying out while sinking down after trying to walk on the water like Jesus, and Jesus rescuing him. What Jung was misremembering here was the very real Latin inscription on the baptistery’s south-west arch that paraphrases Matthew 14:29-32 and reads in English: ‘Jesus, walking on the sea, takes the sinking Peter by the hand and at the command of the Lord the wind ceased.’ In Memories, Jung speaks of having a ‘distinct memory of the mosaic of Peter sinking’ with ‘every detail before my eyes’ (MDR:285). We argue that in this case Jung’s recollection was based on a misinterpretation of the scene on the baptistery’s ceiling that shows a third figure besides Jesus and John the Baptist rising up out of the water on the right side of the picture with his hand lifted up towards Jesus. The figure actually represents not a sinking Peter, as Jung seems to have thought, but the common iconographical motif of the personified Jordan rising up to do homage to Jesus at his baptism.47

47 Special thanks to Thomas Fischer (Director of the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung) and Sonu Shamdasani (of the University College London and the Philemon Foundation) for reading and making valuable suggestions on the draft version of this article and for their generous help along the way with crucial information and documentation. Thanks as well to my good friend and former assistant editor at Midwestern Journal of Theology, Josh Lee Mann, who, along with his wife Melanie, read an earlier version of a portion of this article and made helpful suggestions, and to my daughter and son-in-law Sarah and Andreas Löcker, who always stand ready to help me sort out the German.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 111

[email protected] REFERENCES Agnellus of Ravenna. 2004. The Book of the Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna.Tr. Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis. Washington, DC: Catholic University Press of America. Anthony, Maggy. 1990. The Valkeries: The Women Around Jung. Longmead, Shaftesbury, Dorset: Element Books. Bair, Deirdre. 2003. Jung: A Biography. New York & Boston: Black Bay Books/Little, Brown. Bard, Giuseppe. 1844. Dei Monumenti d’architettura bizantina in Ravenna. Ravenna: Ven. Seminario. Bennet, E.A. 1985. Meetings with Jung: Conversations Recorded During the Years 1946-1961. Zürich: Daimon. Bovini, Giuseppe. 1950. Il cosiddetto mausoleo di Galla Placidia in Ravenna. Vatican City: Società Amici [delle] Catacombe presso Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana. ———. 1956. Ravenna Mosaics. Greenwich, CT: New York Graphic Society. Champernowne, Irene. 1980. A Memoir of Toni Wolff. Fwd. Joseph. L.Henderson; San Francisco: C.G. Jung Institute of San Francisco. Chrysologus, Peter. 2005. St. Peter Chrysologus: Selected Sermons, Volume 3. Tr. William B. Palardy. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press. Ciampini, Johannis. 1690-1699. Vetera Monimenta. 2 vols. Rome: Joannis Jacobi Komarek. Clark-Stern, Elizabeth. 2010. Out of the Shadows: A Story of Toni Wolff and Emma Jung. Hamilton: Genoa House. Cyril of Jerusalem. 1839. The Catechetical Lectures of S. Cyril, Archbishop of Jerusalem. Oxford: John Henry Parker. Davis-Weyer, Caecilia. 1986 [1971]. Early Medieval Art 300-1100: Sources and Documents.The Medieval Academy Reprints for Teaching 17. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Deichmann, Friedrich Wilhelm. 1974. Ravenna: Haupstadt des spätantiken Abenlandes II. Kommentar I. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner. Deliyannis, Deborah M. 2001. ‘“Bury Me in Ravenna?” Appropriating

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 112

Galla Placidia’s Body in the Middle Ages,’ Studi Medievali 3rd ser. 42 (1): 289-299. ———. 2010. Ravenna in Late Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dionysius of Fourna 1996. The ‘Painter’s Manual’ of Dionysius of Fourna. Tr. Paul Hetherington. Torrance, CA: Oakwood Publications, 1996. Dresken-Weiland, Jutta. 2016. Mosaics of Ravena: Images and Meaning. Tr. Franziska Dörr and Team Syllabos. Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner. Ferguson, Everett. 2009. Baptism in the Early Church: History, Theology, and Liturgy in the First Five Centuries. Grand Rapids, MI / Cambridge: Eerdmans. Freud, Sigmund. & Carl G. Jung. 1974. Freud-Jung Letters. Ed. W. McGuire. Tr. R. Manheim & R. F. C. Hull. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Garrucci, Raffaele. 1873-1881. Storia della arte cristiana nei primi otto secoli della chiesa. 6 vols. Prato: Francesco Giachetti and Gaetano Gausti. Hannah, Barbara. 1991. Jung: His Life and Work: A Biographical Memoir. Boston: Shambala. Jackson, Frederick H. 1906. The Shores of the Adriatic, The Italian Side: An Architectural and Archaeological Pilgrimage. London: John Murray. Jacobi, Jolande. 1973. The Psychology of C.G. Jung. Intro. C.G. Jung; Tr. Ralph Manheim. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. Jansen, Diana Baynes. 2003. Jung’s Apprentice: A Biography of Helton Godwin Baynes. Einsiedeln: Daimon. Harding, Esther. 1948. ‘From Esther Hardings Notebooks (1948).’ In W. McGuire and R. F. C. Hull (eds.). C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987. Healy, Nan Savage. 2017. Toni Wolff & C.G. Jung: Collaboration. Los Angeles, CA: Tiberius Press. Hoch, Medea. 2018. ‘C.G. Jung’s Concept of Color in the Context of Modern Art’. In Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, and Bettina Kaufmann (eds.). The Art of C.G. Jung. Tr. Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York / London: W. W. Norton. Jensen, Robin M. 2012. Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity: Ritual,

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 113

Visual, and Theological Dimensions. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic. ———. 1993. ‘What are Pagan River Gods Doing in Scenes of Jesus’ Baptism?’ Bible Review 9:42-51. Jerome. 2004. The Homilies of St Jerome, Vol. 2 (60-96). Tr. Sister Marie Liguori Ewald, I.H.M. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of American Press. Jung, C.G. [1932]. ‘Hans Schmid-Guisan: In Memoriam’. Collected Works of C.G. Jung. vol. 18, §§1713-1715 (pp. 760-61). ———. 1925. Introduction to Jungian Psychology: Notes of the Seminar on Analytical Psychology Given in 1925. Rev. ed. Intro. S. Shamdasani; Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2012. ———. 1932a. Psychologie of Kundalini Yoga: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1932. Ed. S. Shamdasani. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999. ———. [1950]. ‘On Occultism,’ Fwd. to Moser: ‘Spuk: Irrglaube oder Wahrglaube?’ Collected Works of C.G. Jung. vol. 18, §§757-763. ———. 2009. The Red Book: Liber Novus. Ed. S. Shamdasani. Tr. M.Kyburtz, J. Peck, & S. Shamdasani. New York and London: W. W. Norton. Jung, Carl G. & John Freeman. 1959. ‘The “Face to Face” Interview with John Freeman, BBC television, Oct. 22, 1959.’ In William McGuire and R. F. C. Hull (eds.). C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987. Jung, Carl G. & Aniela Jaffé. 2013. Erinnerungen, Träume, Gedanken. [Mannheim], Germany: Patmos. ———. 1965. Memories, Dreams, Reflections Rev. ed. Tr. R. & C. Winston. New York: Vintage Books. Kerr, John. 1993. A Most Dangerous Method: The Story of Jung, Freud, and Sabina Spielrein. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Kirsh, Thomas B. 1996. ‘Obituary Notice: C.A. Meier (1905-1995).’ Journal of Analytical Psychology 41 (2): 291-292. Kostof, Spiro K. 1965. The Orthodox Baptistery of Ravenna. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. Lachman, Gary. 2010. Jung the Mystic: The Esoteric Dimensions of Carl Jung’s Life and Teachings: A New Biography. New York: Jeremy P.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 RONALD V. HUGGINS 114

Tarcher/Penguin. Marchal, Michael H. 2016. ‘The Interplay of Ritual and Art: The Dome Mosaic in the Neonian Baptistery of Ravenna,’ Sacred Architecture 29: 22-25, 27-28. McLynn, Frank. 1996. Carl Gustav Jung: A Biography. New York: A Thomas Dunne Book/St. Martin’s Press. McGuire, William. (Ed.) 1974. Freud-Jung Letters. Tr. R. Manheim & R. F. C. Hull. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mehrtens, Susan E. 2012. Jung the Man: His Life Examined. Charlotte, VT: Eltanin. Molton, Mary Dian. & Sikes, Lucy Anne. 2011. Four Eternal Women: Toni Wolff Rivisited—A Study in Opposites. Carmel, CA: Fisher King Press. Montanari, Giovanni. 2001. Mosaics, Worship, Culture: Religious Culture in the Mosaics of the Basilicas of Ravenna. Tr. Scuola Interpreti e Traduttori, Ravenna. Ravenna: Opera di Religione Diocesi di Ravenna. Muratori, Lodovico. 1725. Rerum italicarum Scriptore 1(2): 567-572. Noel, Daniel C. 1993. ‘A View on Jung’s Ravenna Vision,’ Harvest: Journal of Jungian Studies 39: 159-163. Ouspensky, Leonid. & Lossky, Vladimir. 1982. The Meaning of Icons. Rev. ed. Tr. G.E.H. Palmer & E. Kadloubovsky. Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir Seminary Press. Owen, Lance S. 2015. Jung in Love: The Mysterium in Liber Novus. Los Angeles & Salt Lake City: Gnostic Archive Books. Ricci, Corrado. 1900. Ravenna. Bergamo: Institutio Italiano D’arti Grafiche. Richter, Jean Paul. 1878. Die Mosaiken von Ravenna. Vienna: Wilhelm Braumüller. Rossi, Girolamo. 1572. Historiarum Ravennatum libri decem. Venice: [Manutius(?)]. Schoolman, Edward M. 2016. Rediscovering Sainthood in Italy: Hagiography and the Late Antique Past in Medieval Ravenna. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Shamdasani, Sonu. 2005. Jung Stripped Bare: By His Biographers, Even.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 WHAT REALLY HAPPENED IN RAVENNA? 115

London & New York: Routledge. Tileston, Eleanor Boise. 1915. Eleanor Boies Tileston (1886-1912). Privately Printed. Norwood, MA: The Norwood Press. von Franz, Marie-Louise. 1992. Psyche and Matter. Fwd. Robert Hinshaw. Boston & London: Shambala. Wagner, George. (Producer), & Susanne Wagner (Director & Interviewer). 1991. Marie-Louise von Franz, Remembering Jung III-September 1979 [Motion Picture]. United States. C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles & Bosustow Video. Wharton, Annabel Jane. 1987. ‘Ritual and Reconstructed Meaning: The Neonian Baptistery in Ravenna’. The Art Bulletin 69 (3):358-375.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI. CRASH ET DEUIL SUR LA PAGE. UN CURIEUX PROBLÈME DE DATATION

CHRISTIAN GAILLARD

PHANÊS • VOLUME 3 • 2020 • PP. 116–162

https://doi.org/10.32724/phanes.2020.Gaillard À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 117

ABSTRACT Tout au long de sa vie, Fellini s’est plu à dessiner à tout propos et en tous lieux. En 1970, son analyste, le Dr Bernhard, l’a invité à dessiner et à écrire ses rêves. Ce qu’il a fait bien au-delà de la fin de cette analyse, en 1975.Après de longues disputes entre ses héritiers, ces dessins et écrits, qu’il avait réunis sous le titre Il Libro dei sogni, ont été publiés par la Fondazione Fellini, de Rimini, qui a organisé un congrès à ce propos en 2007. L’essai qu’on va lire s’arrête à deux dessins du Maestro, qui ne se trouvent pas dans ce Libro, et qui ne sont pas datés. D’où une enquête qui s’appuie sur une série d’indices et de repères pour tenter de dater ces deux dessins, aujourd’hui conservés à la Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma, à Sion, en Suisse. Cette enquête conduit à une réflexion qui porte sur la thématique et la dynamique internes de l’œuvre et de la vie de l’artiste, et plus généralement sur celles de la création.

KEY WORDS Fellini, Libro dei sogni, Dr Bernhard, Jung, Livre Rouge.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 119

’était lors d’une visite, il y a quelques années, en août 2009, à la Fondation Fellini de Sion, en Suisse—une mine de documents en tous genres et de trésors felliniens attendus ou inattendus. Je passais donc, un peu étourdi, ébloui,C d’une photographie de plateau à une affiche des années 1950, d’une lettre autographe à un souvenir de tournage, m’arrêtant ici ou là devant un objet ayant appartenu ou servi au Maestro, lorsque tout soudain, que vois-je? Deux dessins de Fellini, alors inédits, que me fait découvrir Stéphane Marti, le maître de ces lieux. Deux scènes, vivement colorées et solidement organisées, aussi impressionnantes l’une que l’autre par leur tenue formelle et par l’intensité de leur dramaturgie. De quoi tomber en arrêt (ill. 1 et 2).

Ill. 1 (32,5 cm x 32 cm). Courtesy Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma, Sion.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 120

Ill. 2 (34,5 cm x 32 cm). Courtesy Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma, Sion.

Sur l’un, c’est, tout manifestement, le crash d’un avion. Sur l’autre, tout aussi manifestement, ce sont les pleurs d’un clown accablé par un deuil, ou feignant de l’être. Comment voir ces dessins, ces deux scènes ? Et comment apprécier leur place dans l’histoire et dans la dynamique de l’œuvre de Fellini, et aussi peut-être, sait-on jamais, de la vie du cinéaste ? 1

1 Que mon lecteur ne s’effraye pas de cet apparent engagement de mon propos dans la psychobiographie. J’ai eu l’occasion de dire à plus d’une reprise de quel œil je regarde cette orientation, si fréquentée, de la psychanalyse de l’art. On verra bientôt, au fil de ces pages, quel tour prendra une possible considération des rapports entre la dynamique d’une œuvre et le cours d’une vie.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 121

UNE APPROCHE ET ACCROCHE OBSTINÉE Je suis d’autant plus impressionné en découvrant ces dessins que l’œuvre cinématographique de Fellini m’avait déjà sérieusement mobilisé, et de longue date. En fait depuis ma découverte aussi surprise qu’infiniment admirative de sa Dolce Vita au tout début des années 60, alors que j’étais encore tout jeune étudiant aux universités de Lausanne et de Genève2— une découverte nourrie ensuite de bien de façons, et surtout étrangement renouvelée lorsque, bien des années plus tard, devenu psychanalyste à Paris, j’ai reçu dans mon cabinet la visite inattendue du cinéaste canadien Damian Pettigrew, qui apportait alors la dernière main à la réalisation pour Arte de son excellent film Fellini, Je suis un grand menteur.3 C’était en 2002. Damian Pettigrew, qui travaillait à ce film, voulait mon avis d’analyste sur quelques dessins, alors inédits, du Maestro, et de là sur ses rêves. Mais comment donner un quelconque avis sur les rêves en question— et de là sur Fellini!—en n’ayant sous les yeux que les quelques pages éparses qu’il me montrait alors ? J’avais refusé, bien sûr, mais non sans regret, de me lancer dans un exercice aussi périlleux, qui, face à ces pages, me laissait d’ailleurs perplexe.4 Et voilà que quelques années plus tard, la Fondazione Fellini de Rimini m’annonce la parution prochaine—si longtemps attendue, discutée et disputée—du Libro dei sogni de Fellini, et l’organisation, à cette occasion, d’un congrès qui devait se tenir, évidemment, à Rimini, pour saluer cette publication et frayer des voies de recherche à ce propos. Pour me convaincre de participer à l’événement et d’y apporter mon regard d’analyste, d’analyste jungien, sur ce livre, les organisateurs de ce congrès m’en envoient un pré-tirage, dans une présentation encore provisoire, d’un format bien différent de celui de la publication à venir, mais enfin complète, ou censément complète, et conforme à la composition et à la 2 La vie universitaire en ces lieux était animée notamment par les projections organisées par Freddy Buache à la Cinémathèque de Lausanne. 3 De ce réalisateur, on connaissait notamment ses films sur Beckett et sur Balthus. On lui doit aussi un livre d’entretiens avec Fellini, publié sous le même titre par L’Arche à Paris, en 1994, avec d’intéressants croquis de Fellini (Fellini, Pettigrew 1994). 4 Dans les conditions d’une psychanalyse, c’est bien sûr le patient qui fait l’essentiel du travail—c’est pourquoi, depuis Lacan, on ne le dit plus ‘patient’, mais ‘analysant’. Quant à l’analyste, il accompagne, et parfois intervient, pour relever quelque fait, détail ou thème négligé, ou soutenir, par amplification, certaines de ses associations ou certains de ses questionnements (cf Gaillard 2001).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 122

présentation chronologique du livre en cours de publication. De quoi me donner enfin quelque prise sur les dessins et les notes de Fellini à propos de ses rêves. Je ne pouvais que me risquer à m’y plonger, dans ce livre de rêves, avec l’espoir de ne pas m’y perdre. J’acceptai cette invitation. Ce congrès s’est tenu à Rimini les 9 et 10 novembre 2007. Il était présidé par Tullio Kezich, un proche de Fellini et un de ses meilleurs ­biographes5. Et les congressistes invités à y présenter une communication en sont repartis avec sous le bras—si l’on peut dire—l’énorme, très encombrant et très pesant Librone du cinéaste dans sa première et toute fraîche édition italienne, par Rizzoli. Je reprends ici à mon compte ce terme très italien de ‘Librone’—ce qu’on peut traduire, en somme, par ‘Gros Bouquin’—, car on le doit à Fellini lui-même. C’est ainsi qu’il se plaisait à désigner l’ouvrage, un bien gros livre, en effet, composé à l’origine de feuillets de différents formats, qu’il gardait plus ou moins caché dans un tiroir—un tiroir, il est vrai, pas toujours fermé à clef—, et dont il pouvait aussi donner quelques pages ici ou là à certains de ses proches6. D’où la présentation assez complexe de ce Livre qui dans sa première édition italienne comporte plus de 400 pages, et rassemble en fait trois parties distinctes. La première partie de ce Livre comporte 244 pages, et couvre la période comprise entre le 30 novembre 1960 et le 2 août 1968. La seconde en compte 154. Elle commence en février 1973 et se termine en 1982, avec donc, notons-le, car il nous faudra revenir sur cette remarque, tout un temps sans rêves entre l’une et l’autre. À quoi s’ajoute une troisième partie composée de feuillets épars dessinés et écrits à différents moments de la vie de l’auteur, jusqu’en 1990. Avec une quatrième partie, plus brève, où se trouvent publiées des ‘Feuilles offertes’. En fin de volume, les éditions italienne et française de ce livre présentent une transcription typographique des propos manuscrits de Fellini, qui sont traduits en français dans les

5 Les Actes de ce congrès ont été édités sous le titre Federico Fellini. Il Libro dei miei sogni (2007). Ma communication s’intitulait ‘Dire et non-dit du rêve’ et a été publiée en français et en anglais. Puis en italien sous le titre L’Inconscio creatore (2009), dans un livre écrit avec Lella Ravasi Bellochio qui a aussi présenté une communication au congrès de Rimini. Jean A. Gili, qui est un de nos meilleurs historiens et critiques de cinéma, notamment du cinéma italien, a publié ensuite son Fellini. Le Magicien du réel (2009), avec une iconographie particulièrement riche et parlante. Sam Stourdzé, qui a aussi participé à ce congrès, a publié cette même année 2009 le catalogue de son exposition Fellini, au Jeu de Paume à Paris, sous le titre Fellini. La Grande Parade, avec là aussi une iconographie remarquablement riche et parlante, ainsi qu’un numéro spécial de Beaux Arts Magazine intitulé Tutto Fellini (2009b) auquel j’ai contribué. 6 Comment ne pas penser ici à cet autre ‘Librone’ qu’est le Livre Rouge de Jung ? Ils sont côte-à-côte dans ma bibliothèque. J’y reviendrai.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 123

éditions de Flammarion. Ces rêves sont le plus souvent datés par Fellini en haut de leur représentation dessinée et des propos manuscrits qui les accompagnent. Ce n’est pas le cas des deux dessins de Sion. L’ensemble porte ainsi sur près de trente ans de rêves dessinés et écrits de la main de l’auteur, de novembre 1960 à août 1990, dont les quatre ans de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard. On sait en effet l’intérêt de Fellini pour la psychanalyse et son attention à ce qui peut se découvrir, se dire et se vivre là. Ses biographes nous rapportent comment après une première expérience assez malheureuse avec l’analyste freudien Emilio Servadio, il s’est engagé dans une analyse apparemment très suivie avec le fondateur du mouvement jungien en Italie, le Dr Ernst Bernhard. Cette analyse durera des derniers mois de 1960 à l’été de 1965.7 Flammarion a publié la même année 2007 une édition française de ce Livre. Cette édition française se présente avec la même pagination que l’édition italienne de Rizzoli, ce qui permettra à notre lecteur de se référer aussi bien à l’une qu’à l’autre de ces deux éditions lorsque j’évoquerai telle ou telle de ses pages. Sauf que l’édition française se présente dans une dimension sensiblement plus réduite, de 25 cm sur 33, ce qui a pour effet de réduire la reproduction de toute une partie des dessins et des propos autographes de Fellini—et on verra que le format des dessins de Sion qui vont nous occuper seront une des données à prendre en compte pour leur datation.8 En cette année 2020, à l’occasion des 100 ans de la naissance du Maestro et des nombreuses publications et émissions de radio ou de télévision qui ont accompagné la célébration de cet événement, cet éditeur français vient de publier une nouvelle édition de son livre, bien sûr épuisé, de 2007. Cette édition est toute semblable à la première, y compris pour ce qui est de sa pagination, ce qui permettra à mon lecteur de s’y reporter aussi s’il ne dispose pas de la première publication de cet éditeur ou de celle de Rizzoli, qui est celle dont je me sers depuis le congrès de Rimini.

7 Une analyse qui s’est déroulée, bien sûr, sur un mode assez particulier du fait de la personnalité singulière du Dr Bernhard, de celle de Fellini, et du fait aussi de ce moment de l’histoire de la psychanalyse, en particulier en Italie. J’ai discuté cette analyse à partir de nos pratiques cliniques d’aujourd’hui dans mon article des Cahiers Jungiens de Psychanalyse (2009), qui reprend le titre de ma communication présentée au congrès de Rimini et la développe. 8 Au lecteur et regardeur de ces dessins, je recommande de se reporter à l’édition italienne de Rizzoli—même si l’édition française de Flammarion offre une traduction française des propos de Fellini qui accompagnent souvent le dessin des scènes de ses rêves, ce qui peut en faciliter l’accès.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 124

D’où, aujourd’hui, ces pages où je reprends, complète, et surtout relance et développe autrement une série d’essais que j’ai été amené à publier après ce congrès.9 Pour tenter de mieux faire place à ce qui se présente et de mieux appréhender ce qui se joue sur l’un et l’autre des dessins de Sion en établissant à quel moment et dans quel contexte de l’œuvre et aussi de la vie de Fellini ils ont été réalisés, voyons ce que peuvent nous apprendre le format, la tenue formelle et la thématique de chacun d’eux.En commençant par le premier de ces dessins, qu’on pourrait intituler, de loin, à première vue, Le crash de l’avion, ou Il y a du désastre dans l’air (ill.1).

LE FORMAT, LA TENUE FORMELLE, ET LA THÉMATIQUE DE CETTE SCÈNE Ce dessin mesure 32,5 cm sur 32 cm. Or la première partie de ce Libro réunit des dessins d’un format sensiblement différent, de 34 cm sur 24 cm, qui datent de novembre 1960 à août 1968, tandis que sa deuxième partie réunit des dessins de plus grandes dimensions, de 48 cm sur 34 cm, qui datent de juin 1970 à juillet 1990, et que sa troisième partie, dite des ‘Feuilles volantes’ (‘Fogli sparsi’), réunit des dessins de formats divers, qui datent juin 1970 à septembre 198110. Il paraît donc assez probable, en première approximation, que ce dessin de crash de l’avion a été réalisé après 1968 et avant 1982. Après 1968, c’est-à-dire après la fin de l’analyse de Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard, ce qui pourrait bien nous intéresser, et après aussi la réalisation de Otto e mezzo (1963) et de Giulietta degli spiriti (1965) Et avant 1982, c’est-à-dire avant E la nave va (1983), Intervista (1987) et La voce della luna (1990).11 Voyons maintenant la question de la datation de cette page en considérant la tenue formelle de la scène qui s’y trouve représentée. On remarque que cette scène est organisée autour d’un double événement, un avion qui s’écrase au sol et explose, et la fuite éperdue de deux petits personnages qui s’enfuient à toutes jambes vers le bas gauche de la page.

9 On les trouvera mentionnés au fil de ces notes. 10 La quatrième partie de ce Livre, celle des ‘Feuilles offertes’, réunit des dessins qui datent d’octobre 1961 à juin 1981, mais ils sont aussi de plus grandes dimensions que celles du dessin de Sion. 11 Gérald Morin, qui a été longtemps proche de Fellini et son assistant nous fait revisiter dans son film documentaireSur les traces de Fellini (2013), l’élaboration et la réalisation de Roma (1972), de Amarcord (1973), et de Casanova (1976) dans leur contexte romain des années 1970.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 125

Le crash de l’avion et ce mouvement de fuite ont en commun d’être l’un et l’autre dessinés et mis en scène sur un mode remarquablement vif, presque violent, et par là fortement dramatisé. Or on peut observer qu’à partir de décembre 1961, les pages de ce Libro se trouvent progressivement plus agitées, et même bousculées, jusqu’à s’en trouver parfois presque désorganisées, et même éclatées, tandis qu’on voit et qu’on lit sur la page l’expression de sensations assez désagréables qui en viennent à menacer sérieusement l’équilibre des scènes données à voir.12 Ces sensations désagréables et dérangeantes étaient jusqu’alors tenues soigneusement en respect par le bon ordre de la représentation et la présentation plus soignée des propos écrits par le rêveur. Dans les scènes que le rêveur dessine jusqu’au début de 1962 et dans l’écriture qui les accompagne, le personnage qui le représente reste généralement prudent. Il se tient à distance, ou il se met à distance, de ce qui progressivement se présente et pourrait bien le troubler sérieusement. Ainsi dans un rêve du 8 janvier 1962 se voit-il, ou le voit-on, perché sur des échasses, comme pour mieux se préserver de ce qui lui arrive de plus dérangeant, et de plus indistinct, de plus indifférencié, à partir des contrebas de lui-même (ill. 3).13 Il se trouve que c’est précisément quelques mois après le début de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard en automne 1960 que se manifestent progressivement dans ses dessins les changements formels que je viens de signaler, tout se passant comme si Federico Fellini commençait alors à se montrer, à se trouver, moins sûr de ce qui se présente dans ses rêves. Et moins sûr de lui-même. Jusqu’à se sentir menacé par ce qui se produit alors dans ses rêves, et de là dans ses dessins et sous sa plume, et dans ses rapports à lui-même. Et après la fin de son analyse, une analyse interrompue, comme on sait, par la mort de son analyste, le 19 juin 1965, ce livre change plus encore d’allure. Ses dessins se font alors plus complexes encore, plus touffus, plus sombres aussi. Et surtout plus éclatés. Ce qui correspondant à la mise en page d’une thématique qu’il nous convient maintenant d’observer, toujours pour tenter de situer ce dessin du crash de l’avion dans l’histoire des créations cinématographiques et, pour autant que faire se peut, et très prudemment, bien sûr, à pas comptés, dans celle de la vie de notre Maestro.

12 J’ai développé cette observation dans mes articles de 2009. 13 A la différence de Fellini dans son Libro, Jung, dans son Livre Rouge, apporte un soin très calligraphique—évidemment évolutif, mais constant—à la relation écrite de ses rencontres et découvertes visionnaires, ainsi qu’à la réalisation des dessins et peintures qui les accompagnent.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 126

Ill. 3. Page 105 du Libro. Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Dans ce dessin de Sion, on voit en effet un accident. Le brutal accident d’un avion qui s’écrase sur le sol et éclate dans une ‘esplosione silenziosa’/ ‘explosion silencieuse’. Ces mots sont écrits sur la page, et cet oxymore lui-même brutal rend l’événement plus impressionnant et inquiétant encore. Un accident est toujours une catastrophe vécue, ou du moins entrevue, ou toute proche, un désastre qui menace, de fait, ou qu’on peut craindre. Surtout un accident d’avion. Or on ne peut qu’être frappé par la récurrence et l’insistance des chocs et entrechocs qui se multiplient dans ce Livre. Fellini vit peu à peu et relate des rêves et cauchemars affreux qu’il dessine d’une page à l’autre de son ‘Librone’. Des tours s’effondrent, un train s’enfonce dans la nuit, une voiture se révèle impossible à conduire, et un avion manque de s’écraser dans un tunnel (des pages 173 à 263, de février 1966 à la fin de la première partie du Libro en août 1968). Voilà qui vient de nous faire passer, sans trop de transition, subrepticement, de l’observation de la tenue formelle de ces pages à une attention qui de là se porte maintenant sur la thématique des rêves qui s’y trouvent dessinés

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 127

et racontés. Ce qui bouscule le bon ordre de mon propos, qui voulait que nous considérions successivement le format, puis la tenue formelle, et enfin la thématique des pages de ce Livre. Ce bon ordre en sera d’autant plus bousculé que l’événement aéronautique qui nous occupe se reproduit à bien des reprises au fil des pages de ce Livre. Dans une longue et plus qu’inquiétante série d’explosions inattendues et autres catastrophes semblables parfois évitées de justesse, des aéroplanes, qui pourtant paraissaient heureux de voler, se trouvent en sérieuse difficulté (pages 68, 174, 192, 205, 249, 287, 301, 343, 344, 364, 400). Cette série se ramasse et se noue plus dramatiquement encore dans un rêve du 30 décembre 1980, publié dans la deuxième partie de ce Livre, où un dirigeable est non seulement menacé, mais s’avère aussi plus menaçant que jamais (ill. 4).

Ill. 4. Page 386 du Libro. Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Dans ce rêve, ou plutôt dans ce dessin14, le rêveur se montre lui- même gravement en danger. On le voit, paniqué, qui s’enfuit à toutes

14 Il n’y a évidemment pas de texte du rêve. Chacun, au réveil, transcrit en mots, parfois aussi en images, ce qu’il a vécu dans la nuit.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 128

jambes. Comme sur la page conservée à Sion. Dans le dessin de cette scène, on peut lire, de la main de Fellini, ‘Scappiamo !’/ ‘Fuyons!’.15 Cette exclamation ne se trouve pas dans le dessin de Sion. Le texte manuscrit qui accompagne cette scène de décembre 1980 parle de ‘catastrophe totale’ et d’‘immense malheur’, et aussi de ‘signes prémonitoires’ qu’il avait ou aurait pu percevoir à l’occasion de rêves récents, mais, remarquons le, sans que pour autant Fellini évoque la longue série des rêves précédents que nous venons de signaler, et qui, pour le premier d’entre eux, à la page 68 de son Libro dei sogni, date de juin 1961. Quand il dessine et écrit ce rêve, Fellini note pourtant que dans cette scène il était vraiment plus jeune, presque un enfant—une remarque qui renvoie au passé, à son passé d’enfant, ou d’adolescent, ce qui inscrit l’événement dans une temporalité longue qui suscite son attention puisqu’il le note, mais, curieusement, sans pour autant qu’il s’y attarde, et sans non plus qu’apparemment il porte attention à la récurrence de ce type d’événements dans ses rêves, une récurrence et une insistance dont témoigne pourtant ce Livre qu’il dessine et écrit de sa main, et qui lui importe. Cette scène de l’aéronef qui explose est donc sérieusement récurrente. Ne la perdons pas de vue. Car, à l’évidence, ce Livre le montre, elle relève d’un scénario qui a obstinément occupé, et à répétition, notre rêveur16. On est tenté de dire qu’elle l’a sérieusement hanté, ou obsédé, qu’il ait voulu le voir ou non.17

LES AÉRONEFS EXPLOSENT ET IL FAUT COMPRENDRE Ce rêve, ou plus exactement donc ce scénario, est manifestement si marquant pour notre rêveur et dessinateur qu’il est pratiquement le seul qu’on retrouvera ensuite sur de nombreuses autres pages de ce Livre. Mais dans un bien curieux désordre—si, du moins, on se rend attentif à l’écart entre sa pagination et les dates où il se retrouve. On le retrouvera en effet à la page 400, toujours dans la deuxième partie de ce Livre, daté cette

15 La traduction française de Flammarion donne ‘Echappons-nous’, mais à mon avis, ce verbe est un peu faible. Je propose donc plutôt: ‘Fuyons!’. 16 J’ai exposé cette distinction entre scène et scénario dans un article intitulé ‘­­L’Originaire est quotidien’ (2016). 17 Je présume que Fellini ne connaissait pas Charles Mauron. Il aurait peut-être prêté attention aux Métaphores obsédantes et mythe personnel (1963) de cet homme de lettres qui était son contemporain, et qui savait entendre ce qu’il lisait. Un autre auteur, qui lui était plus contemporain encore, aurait pu également l’intéresser, Gaston Bachelard, notamment par son L’Air et les songes (1941).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 129

fois du 25 février 1982, soit un peu plus de deux ans après celui que nous venons de voir. Dans le texte manuscrit qui accompagne le dessin et la relation de ce rêve, Fellini remarque que dans cette nouvelle scène du même drame, comme dans le rêve de 1980, il était encore enfant, sans pour autant que, dans ce Livre, il s’attarde à cette remarque, pas plus qu’il ne l’avait fait précédemment dans le rêve de juin 1961, lorsque il était déjà question de lui enfant. Mais voilà que maintenant on peut lire sous sa plume cette sorte réflexion à la fois ferme et pensive, qui pourrait bien être unesorte d’interprétation: ‘Ho pensato che quel sogno volevaannunciarmi l’inevitabile fine d’un vecchio modo di volare’ / ‘J’ai pensé que ce rêve voulait m’annoncer l’inévitable fin d’une manière de voler’. Ce qui le conduit à écrire ces mots impressionnants, et puissamment impératifs, qu’il souligne: ‘Bisogna cambiare paesaggio, e modo, sistema, mezzo di viaggiare nelle proprie fantasie’ / ‘Il faut changer de paysage, de manière, de système, de moyen de transport, dans mes propres fantaisies’.18 Et au-dessous de cette nouvelle scène de l’aéronef qui éclate, il dessine un sous-marin très noir et puissamment menaçant19. ‘Tutto era nerissimo’ / ‘Tout était très noir’, souligne-t-il. Et dans une note qui pourrait bien être postérieure à sa relation de ce rêve, il écrit encore, à propos de l’eau où se trouve ce sous-marin: ‘E così buia perchè è ancora sconosciuta, appartienne all’inconscio’ / ‘Elle est si noire, car elle est encore inconnue, elle appartient à l’inconscient’.20 De plus, sur la même page, il écrit encore que dans un autre rêve de la même époque il découvrait des journaux publiant des photographies de lui-même avec ces légendes: ‘…scomparso, il re del cinema’ / ‘…il­ a disparu, le roi du cinéma’, ‘…sicuramente debellato, Fellini’ / ‘... il est vaincu à coup sûr, Fellini’.21 C’est impressionnant. D’autant plus impressionnant qu’il ajoute sans ambages, cette fois sous la forme d’un commentaire qui lui serait venu après coup: ‘Insomma, ero morto’/ ‘Bref, j’étais mort’. Cette fois les mots qu’il écrit ne sont plus descriptifs. Fellini ici parle à la première personne: ‘eromorto’. De quoi tomber en arrêt.

18 Fantaisies? On pourrait aussi traduire ce ‘fantasie’ par fantasmes. 19 Ce sous-marin est assez parent de celui qui se retrouvera en 1983 dans E la nave va. Il se retrouve aussi, de plus près, dans la page suivante du Libro (Fellini 2007: 401) avec en -dessous, un homme volant. 20 Il est assez rare, remarquons-le aussi, que Fellini, dans ce Livre utilise ce terme d’inconscient (cf. Risset 2007). 21 ‘Debellato’ est un terme très fort. Il dit en somme, si on veut bien l’entendre, que la guerre est perdue—en tous cas qu’une guerre est perdue.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 130

Et cinquante pages plus loin, à la page 451, on retrouve encore la relation, cette fois dans les pages volantes de ce Livre, de la même scène de crash et de fuite, avec le même ‘Scappiamo !’ / ‘Fuyons!’. Mais, soulignons-le, ce rêve est antérieur de plus de deux ans à celui qui vient de nous arrêter, puisqu’il est daté du 30 décembre 1980. Sur la relation de ce rêve, on peut lire, toujours de la main de Fellini, en lettres majuscules, ces mots qui sonnent comme une injonction, ou du moins comme une invitation plus que pressante: ‘Bisognerebbe riuscire a capire cos’è che si distrugge’ / ‘Il faudrait réussir à comprendre ce qui est détruit’.22 Ce rêve s’avère pour lui si pressant, et si obsédant, que neuf mois plus tard, le 16 septembre 1981, il y reviendra et reprendra sa plume, pour ajouter, au bas de la même page, en lettres tout aussi majuscules, et plus grasses encore, cette interpellation apparemment, ou décidément, sans échappatoire: ‘Cretino,­ non l’hai ancora capito ?’ / ‘Crétin, tu ne l’as pas encore compris ?’ (ill. 5).

Ill. 5. Page 451 du Libro. Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Comprendre quoi ? Revoyons ces pages. Et relisons ce qu’en s’est dit Fellini. Pour tenter de mieux voir, de mieux entendre, ce qui est signifié là—ou plutôt ce que Fellini, assez manifestement, tente de se signifier à lui-même.

22 La traduction française de Flammarion donne ici, curieusement ‘ce qui nous détruit’,­ alors que le texte italien dit vraiment ‘ce qui est détruit’, ou ‘ce qui se détruit’.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 131

La tâche n’est pas simple.

L’ART DE BROUILLER LES PISTES La tâche n’est pas simple, car, on l’aura remarqué, si le premier de ces rêves se trouve à la page 386 de ce Livre et est daté du 30 décembre 1980, et si le deuxième, qui se trouve à la page 400, est daté du 25 février 1982, le troisième, qu’on trouve plus loin, à la page 451, est daté, lui, du 10 janvier 1980, et est donc antérieur aux deux autres. De plus, Fellini reviendra sur cette page, pour y ajouter, le 16 septembre 1981, donc après coup, l’exclamation où il s’apostrophe en se traitant de ‘Cretino’. La composition de ce Libro dei sogni, et de là, sa pagination, ne correspondent pas à l’ordre chronologique des rêves qui s’y trouvent relatés. Curieux désordre. Serait-ce l’effet d’un simple hasard dû aux aléas de la composition de ce Livre? C’est assez peu probable, quand on sait l’attention que Fellini portait à son ‘Librone’ et le soin dont témoignent ses éditions. Serait-ce à mettre au compte de la désorganisation dans laquelle notoirement il se plaisait? J’en doute. Car les nombreux reportages qui ont été réalisés sur son travail de cinéaste montrent bien comment en définitive, sous ses dehors brouillons, il dirigeait, contrôlait et ajustait très précisément la réalisation des projets qui lui tenaient à cœur. Ou peut-on penser que ce diable de Fellini a tout fait pour brouiller les pistes, délibérément? On pourrait le penser, ou le craindre. Car Fellini ne se privait pas de se jouer de ses interlocuteurs et de s’en délivrer en leur servant des répliques qu’il savait brillamment improviser dès lors qu’il se sentait bientôt acculé à avouer quelque vérité qu’il ne voulait pas trop assumer. En témoignent les innombrables interviews où on le voit qui, pas vu, pas pris, s’esquive au moment même où on croyait avoir enfin le fin mot de ce qu’en fait il ne voulait pas dire.23 Au demeurant, ne se pourrait-il pas plutôt qu’en l’occurrence il se soit débattu avec lui-même, comme il pouvait, dans la tension où il était entre son engagement dans la réalisation de ses films et les surgissements pour le moins malvenus, en fait durement choquants, qui pouvaient s’imposer à répétition dans ses nuits? Des surgissements, des émergences, des évidences trop brutales, dont il aurait bien voulu ne rien savoir. Que disent-ils en effet ces rêves et ces réflexions que nous venons de repérer et de remettre, non sans mal, dans leur ordre chronologique? Ils disent une menace d’abord sourde, mais qui bientôt, à proprement parler

23 Cf. Angeluci (2013), qui était un proche de Fellini et est lui-même cinéaste et écrivain.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 132

éclate, violemment. La menace de dangers d’abord obscurs, et venant d’en bas, puis, progressivement, celle de méchants chocs, ou d’accidents aéronautiques plus que brutaux, catastrophiques ou du moins désastreux, qu’il vaut mieux fuir, ou dont il vaut mieux, du moins, s’éloigner sans tarder, à toutes jambes. On a vu que le rêveur, à son réveil, se remémore, observe, dessine et écrit ses rêves, et s’étonne de ce qu’il voit là, sur ce qui se passe là. Parfois même, assez rarement, il faut dire, il en débat. En fait, manifestement, il s’y débat. Il en viendra même, parfois, on l’a vu, à s’interpeller lui-même, à se prendre lui-même à partie, sans ménagement, jusqu’à s’insulter lui-même—se traitant de ‘Cretino’—, et jusqu’à se mettre en demeure de prendre acte de ce qu’il a vu et vécu dans la nuit, et, parfois aussi, jusqu’à s’enjoindre de réagir. C’est qu’il pourrait s’agir pour lui de se confronter à ce qui a pu survenir, surgir, dans ses nuits, de si durement insistant, et menaçant,24 alors que le Maestro qu’il était derrière la caméra se devait, sous les projecteurs et sous la pression de son entourage et de ses producteurs, de relancer son œuvre, de sorte qu’il lui fallait incessamment jouer et rejouer son rôle de grand ordonnateur d’un cinéma qu’autour de lui on célébrait à l’envi.

RÉPÉTITION ET INSISTANCE INTERPELLATRICE Or, toujours à observer ce Livre de près, on a pu voir que ces menaces et désastres aéronautiques, Fellini les connaissait et les vivait de longue date—du moins dans ses nuits. Il les avait remarqués, dessinés et écrits déjà bien avant ces années 1980. Souvenons-nous de ces rêves, que j’ai évoqués plus haut, et qui déjà quelques mois après le début de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard, en juin 1961, mettaient en scène un avion en difficulté, ou gravement accidenté, et même éclaté. D’un de ces avions, il avait alors écrit qu’il n’arrivait pas à dépasser le sommet de la montagne. ‘Il bat péniblement des ailes dans l’air qui devient violet, sans réussir à avancer…’ (69). Et en mars 1968, trois ans donc après la fin de son analyse, à la suite de deux rêves successifs eux aussi assez semblables à celui de la planche de Sion, il avait dessiné l’avant d’un avion et écrit en lettres majuscules: ‘Mon Dieu! Les pilotes dorment!!’. Et il avait ajouté:­­­ ‘…je m’aperçois avec terreur que l’avion, sorti des nuages qui cachaient

24 On sait l’insistance avec laquelle Jung recourt, dans sa langue, aux termes de ‘auseindersetzen’, ‘Auseinandersetzung’, qui parlent, très concrètement, quasi physiquement, de confrontation—des termes que le Dr Bernhard, qui venait d’Allemagne, entendait fort bien.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 133

la vue, est à quelques centimètres du sol. Et s’il y avait des montagnes? Ce serait la catastrophe. Réveille-toi’. Ce qu’il répète, en lettres majuscules: ‘Sveglia!’ / ‘Réveille-toi!’ (248-249).25 Tandis que le lendemain, à propos d’un autre rêve assez semblable, il avait écrit, sur un mode à la fois descriptif et vivement réflexif, que décidément il lui fallait ‘abandonnare l’aereo’, ‘plonger dans le vide avec son parachute’, ‘descendre au fond des abysses marins’, et enfin, plus impérativement: ‘scendere nell’inconscio!’ / ‘descendre dans l’inconscient!’ (514).26 Nous sommes alors à la fin mars 1968, presque trois ans après la fin de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard—et donc après la mort de son analyste—et bien des années avant les rêves du même type, des années 1980, que nous avons vus plus haut. L’aéronef qui s’écrase sur la page de Sion n’est donc manifestement pas un événement unique dans les rêves de Fellini. Il n’intervient pas là comme un ovni, comme un objet volant non identifié. Il ne s’agit en rien, ni pour Fellini, ni pour nous qui fréquentons son Libro dei sogni, d’un objet jamais vu, non identifiable, et non reconnaissable. Pas plus que la catastrophe qui menace, ou effectivement se produit. Cette scène au contraire est remarquablement récurrente. Insistante. Et pas seulement au début des années 1980. Mais donc déjà dans les années 1960 ou au début des années 1970. Elle est trop insistante pour ne pas s’imposer à l’attention. À notre attention. Et aussi, peut-on penser, et pour autant que faire se peut à celle de Fellini. Quant à la date à laquelle cette scène de Sion a pu être dessinée, il n’est donc pas impossible qu’elle l’ait été à la fin des années 1960, comme la Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma l’indique dans la récente exposition qu’elle a organisée dans ses locaux de Sion pour marquer l’anniversaire des cent ans de la naissance de Maestro. C’est-à-dire au moment où Fellini réalise I Clowns (1970)—nous aurons donc à nous arrêter à ce film pour apprécier sa place, et peut-être son rôle ou son effet, dans la dynamique des films, et peut-être celle de la vie de notre Maestro. Cette hypothèse concorde avec notre première approche pour dater cette page par l’observation de son format, qui disait qu’elle pourrait bien avoir été dessinée après 1968, peu avant ou peu après la fin de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard.

25 Nous retrouverons plus loin ce ‘Sveglia!’. 26 Et donc après la mort de son analyste. Notons au passage qu’il est bien rare que ce terme d’‘inconscient’ se trouve sous sa plume. Ce terme apparaît d’ailleurs sur cette page avec un point d’exclamation. Il s’agit manifestement ici d’une injonction très concrète et circonstanciée plutôt que d’un recours à un vocabulaire théorique.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 134

Mais il est tout aussi possible qu’elle ait été dessinée et écrite à une date proche du rêve de l’explosion du dirigeable qui dans son Libro dei sogni est daté du 10 décembre 1980.27 C’est-à-dire que cette page de Sion pourrait aussi dater de l’année 1980, de décembre 1980, ou qu’elle soit immédiatement postérieure à cette date. S’il faut trancher entre ces deux hypothèses, je privilégierais plutôt, pour ma part, la seconde, du fait de mon approche à la fois de la tenue formelle et de la thématique de son Libro dei sogni. Car si la composition et le thème du crash d’un avion ou d’un aéronef sont bien représentés à la fois dans les années 1960 et dans les années 1980, ce n’est pas le cas du sauve-qui-peut qu’on voit sur la page de Sion et qu’on ne voit qu’en 1980 dans son Libro dei sogni. Quant à ce que Fellini vit alors, on sait que dans ces années 1980, il vit un nouveau moment de crise qui le fait sérieusement douter de l’avenir du cinéma et de lui-même, ce qui tranche avec les envols—ou essais d’envol—de son imaginaire jusqu’alors.28 Mais, en fait, on ne voit pas comment vraiment trancher entre ces deux hypothèses. Alors un doute s’insinue. La question de la datation de ces pages aurait-elle été mal posée? Ou, du moins, demanderait-elle à être revue, reconsidérée ou du moins ajustée? Certes, elle n’a pas été vaine. Elle nous a fait avancer. Puisque nous avons maintenant à considérer deux dates éventuelles. Deux, au moins. Mais on hésite. Et le doute où nous étions, maintenant se fait plus insistant. Ne nous faudrait-t-il pas prendre ici quelque recul? Se pourrait-il que s’ouvre maintenant une autre approche, ou une approche renouvelée, de cette question de la datation de cette page de Sion? Se pourrait-il que cette scène de crash, ce scénario catastrophe, qui se répète et si manifestement insiste d’une étape à l’autre d’un temps à l’autre de ce Libro dei sogni, perdure et s’impose tout au long de l’œuvre de notre cinéaste et, peut-être aussi, de sa vie? Qu’elle soit comme un thème qui sourdement, obstinément, résonnerait en contrepoint de ses créations, ou, plus exactement, comme une basse continue qui accompagnerait notre Maestro au fil de son œuvre et, peut-être, de sa vie?

LA BASSE CONTINUE ET LE CHANT On se plaît à qualifier l’œuvre de Fellini de baroque. Ce qui est un 27 Ce rêve est daté à tort du 10 janvier 1980 dans le Beaux Arts intitulé Tutto Fellini! (2009: 37). 28 Pour plus de précisions biographiques à ce propos, cf. Tullio Kezich 2007:chap. 36- 37.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 135

peu rapide, et approximatif. Cette qualification a toutefois sa vertu. Elle peut contribuer à renouveler notre approche de la datation de ses rêves. Dans la musique baroque, en effet, on distingue classiquement, si l’on peut dire, la basse continue et les voix de dessus. À propos de cette musique, on appelle ‘basse continue’ un motif qui se répète et se relance, parfois presqu’inchangé, et parfois chiffré, tandis que le chant et les autres parties dites de dessus s’élancent, se développent, et se modifient plus librement. Il s’agit assez souvent d’une descente chromatique, assez pathétique.29 On parle aussi parfois de ‘basso ostinato’, de ‘basse obstinée’, ou de ‘groundbass’, ou encore de ‘basse contrainte’, ‘soutenue’, ou ‘obligée’. Si donc les chocs, entrechocs, brutalités et accidents divers, souvent graves, tout notamment ceux des aéronefs touchés en plein vol et si souvent précipités et écrasés au sol se répètent, obstinément, longtemps presqu’inchangés, dans ce Libro dei sogni et accompagnent si manifestement l’œuvre cinématographique de Fellini et sa vie comme une ‘basse continue’ et ‘obstinée’, ne serait-ce pas là le rappel venu de loin, obstiné, continu et presque hors-le-temps, d’une réalité, en l’occurrence la réalité d’une menace qui ne peut pas, ou ne veut pas, se laisser convaincre par les réussites du Maestro, aussi heureuses, brillantes et célébrées soient- elles? Il arrive qu’un motif de ‘basse obstinée’ se retrouve dans la partie haute d’une pièce de musique, où elle prend alors un élan, un essor et connait des développements qui la libère de ses contraintes initiales. Se pourrait-il que Fellini ait tenté de considérer, de travailler et de reprendre à son compte le motif si brutal et gravement impressionnant des aéronefs menacés et menaçants qui se montre si insistant dans son Libro dei sogni? Qu’il ait tenté de le travailler et de quelque façon de le prendre en main dans son œuvre cinématographique, par les moyens, les pouvoirs et les vertus de son art de cinéaste? Se pourrait-il que le deuxième dessin de Sion, celui du clown en pleurs, nous aide à mieux comprendre cette tension, si impressionnante, entre cette tonalité de fond pour lui si dure et effrayante du crash des aéronefs et l’œuvre cinématographique si brillante, admirée et admirable de Fellini, et aussi, sait-on jamais, le cours de l’histoire du Maestro? Voyons cette deuxième page de plus près, en partant, comme pour la

29 Ainsi en est-il chez Dufay, ou, plus tard, dans les adieux de Didon dans le Didon et Énée de Purcell, par exemple. Ou sous une forme autrement plus ample dans les Variations Goldberg pour clavecin, la Chaconne pour violon seul ou la Passacaille et fugue pour orgue de Bach. Ce qu’on peut retrouver aussi, sous une autre forme, mais dans un esprit assez semblable, dans la musique contemporaine de Webern ou celle de Dutilleux, par exemple.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 136

première, de l’observation de son format, pour considérer ensuite sa tenue formelle, puis sa thématique.

RETOUR À SION. UN DRÔLE DE CLOWN Cette page, tout comme la première, n’est pas datée. Et elle mesure 34,5 cm sur 32,5 cm, ce qui donne à penser qu’elle a pu être dessinée après la fin de la première partie de ce Livre, soit après 1968, et avant 1982, comme celle du crash de l’avion. Quant à sa tenue formelle, cette scène nous laisse curieusement en suspens. Comme s’il s’agissait d’un instantané plus proche de la photographie que du cinéma. Même les mots qui viennent pourtant manifestement des personnages qu’on voit là restent suspendus, en points de suspension, comme silencieux—comme était silencieuse l’‘esplosione­’ que nous avons vue sur le précédent dessin de Sion, une ‘esplosione’ que Fellini, qui ne craignait pas les oxymores, avait qualifiée de ‘silenziosa’. Voilà une scène qui ne fait ni rire, ni sourire. Ni vraiment pleurer, d’ailleurs. Pas plus que la page du crash de l’avion également conservée à Sion. Il est vrai qu’on y voit un corbillard, ce qui, d’ordinaire, n’incite pas trop à une expression très libre des émotions. En donnant le ton de cette scène, de cette page, ce corbillard pourrait bien être au cœur de la thématique de cette page. Je vois d’ailleurs qu’on dit et répète à l’envi qu’il s’agirait ici de ‘la mort du clown’. Il se peut que ce titre, qui dirait de quoi il s’agit, soit justifié. Mais je n’en suis pas trop certain. Il me parait bon, du moins en première approche, que nous nous en tenions aussi longuement que nécessaire à l’expression manifeste de cette scène. Or, en l’occurrence, a-t-on bien vu les traits de couleur du haut de la page et autour du corbillard? Ils sont discrets, mais c’est assez clair: nous sommes dans un cirque, sous le chapiteau et sur la piste d’un cirque. Alors voyons mieux. Deux clowns sont ici mis en scène. Dans la partie haute de la page, sous le chapiteau, on voit un clown à courtes jambes avec cigare et chapeau—une sorte d’Auguste, apparemment— qu’admoneste un personnage dont la silhouette, dans ce Libro, est assez fréquemment celle du Maestro, tandis que dans la partie inférieure de la page, on voit aussi un autre clown, également avec chapeau—plutôt qu’un clown, il semble bien que ce soit ici un Arlequin—, que regarde, de loin, avec recul, une autre représentation assez habituelle de Fellini, flanqué d’un autre personnage tassé sur lui-même, et apparemment accablé. Un Arlequin? C’est d’autant plus probable que son habit est fait de losanges de tissus de couleurs typique de ce personnage qui nous vient de

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 137

la Commedia dell’arte, où, assez généralement, il se montre joyeux luron, prêt à jouer mille tours. Mais ici, très manifestement, il éclate en pleurs, tandis que l’éclat de son habit se retrouve, plus obscurément, dans celui de l’Auguste—de cette sorte d’Auguste—qu’on voit en haut de la page pris à partie par le reflet ou l’ombre duMaestro . Cet Arlequin se penche sur le corbillard, ou il s’y accroche. C’est bien d’un deuil qu’il s’agit. De quel deuil?

DEUILS Cette scène n’est pas sans précédent dans ce Libro. Déjà en janvier 1961, donc peu après le début de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard, Fellini se montre pleurant abondamment sa Giulietta sinon morte, du moins mourante (ill. 6).

Ill. 6. Page 31 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 138

Et la même scène de désolation et de deuil éploré se reproduira assez peu de temps après la fin de cette analyse, en janvier 1967 (p. 201). Giulietta est là, mourante, avec ses tresses blondes, dans un cercueil, et lui-même, désespéré, pleure toutes les larmes de son corps.30 Remarquons qu’ici il est question de marionnettes, ce que nous retrouverons plus loin. Cette Giulietta mourante porte en effet sur ses tresses blondes ‘une couronne de reine des marionnettes’. Les marionnettes, le cirque, la mort viennent de loin dans les rêves de Fellini. Ce qui pose la question du sort qui dans ce Livre des rêves est fait aux figures récurrentes et obsédantes qui peuplent, animent, et hantent notre Maestro, et aussi son univers cinématographique. Nous retrouvons ici les leçons, qui déjà nous ont accompagnés, de Charles Mauron et de Gaston Bachelard—mais avec cette différence qu’il s’agit ici de la récurrence et du sort d’êtres humains, de figures humaines, plutôt que d’air ou d’eau, ou d’autres éléments naturels. Parmi les personnages qui peuplent ce Livre, la figure de ‘Giulietta’ est sans doute une des plus présentes et des plus récurrentes. Et aussi une de celles qui évoluent et se transforment le plus manifestement d’une page à l’autre, et d’une année à l’autre. Je viens d’écrire ‘Giulietta’ entre guillemets, car, dans ce Livre, elle se présente surtout, jusqu’en 1968 au moins, comme une sorte de Gelsomina, comme une petite personne fragile, mal traitée, déchue, et menacée de mort (p. 47), ou encore comme une figure juvénile, rieuse, infiniment attachante et fragile, presqu’enfantine (p. 62, par exemple). Ces rêves datent des premiers temps de l’analyse de Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard. Et lorsque Giulietta, dans ces pages, n’est pas ‘Giulietta-Gelsomina’, mais bien plutôt Giulietta Masina, la vraie Giulietta Masina, sa femme, Fellini la montre comme ramenée sur terre, souffrante, parfois morte. En fait comme la retombée sans illusion de qu’elle était en Gelsomina. Ou alors on la retrouvera en 1965, en bourgeoise romaine assez sotte et assez perdue dans Giulietta degli spiriti, jouant, sans vraiment les déjouer, avec les tours à la fois mondains, passablement ridicules et finalement maléfiques d’une magie pour bourgeois désœuvrés, effrayés et crédules.31 Sans pour autant que disparaissent de ces pages, où d’ailleurs elles ne se transforment guère, ces femmes énormément femmes, tout en seins et

30 Ce thème de la mort et du deuil se retrouvera, bien des années plus tard, en 1983, dans E la nave va, un film qui nous intéressera plus loin. 31 On connait le goût de Fellini pour les voyants et ses fréquentations assez soutenues de magiciens divers, y compris au cours de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 139

croupe énormes, qu’on se plait à qualifier de ‘felliniennes’, objets massifs qui l’obsèdent, ou avec lesquelles il voudrait bien jouer, mais qu’il dessine le plus souvent hors de proportion humaine, relevant d’un imaginaire qui oscille entre éblouissement, complaisance et surtout débordement.32 Sur cette seconde page de Sion, il s’agit bien d’un deuil. Avec donc la perte, la mort de ‘Giulietta’ en arrière-plan. Mais ici on hésite à y croire. Le Maestro, qui sur le bord de la page regarde, effrayé, cette scène, y croit- il lui-même? On le voit ici qui reste bien en retrait, sur le bord de la page.

Y ALLER ? La psychanalyse ou la psychothérapie qu’a vécue Federico Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard de 1960 à 1965 a été un événement important dans sa vie, et elle n’a pas manqué d’effets sur son œuvre. Quand il se rend chez son analyste, Fellini a plus de quarante ans, et il a une belle réputation d’artiste. Avec Lo Sceicco bianco (1952), il avait montré sa maestria attendrie pour dire son goût de cinéaste pour les romans-photos, et aussi pour montrer, déjà, la désolation d’un rêve qui se défait. Avec La Strada (1954), puis dans Le Notte di Cabiria (1957), il avait su voir et faire voir en Giulietta Masina un jeune être infiniment malicieux et touchant, joyeusement aérien, entre fleur et ciel, bien loin de la brutalité massive de l’athlète de foire qu’il sait aussi mettre en scène avec ce qu’il a appris du néoréalisme et de Rossellini. De ses premiers succès de caricaturiste, il avait gardé le sens des portraits, qui dans I Vitelloni (1953) oscille entre la nostalgie de ses années d’adolescence et une charge sans merci contre la médiocrité stupide qu’il avait lui-même bien connue. Ses films ont créé un cinéma nouveau qui à la fois regarde le monde— il filme alors encore en décors naturels—et dit des moments presque visionnaires qui se concrétisent dans des scènes si fortes en elles-mêmes que de plus en plus, d’un film à l’autre, elles tendent à s’autonomiser et à s’imposer par elles-mêmes, en se présentant, chacune d’elles, comme le condensé ou le précipité visuel d’une nouvelle plutôt que comme les étapes d’un roman au long cours (Gili 2009:chapitre 4). Dans ces films, la grâce et le drame se côtoient, se regardent, se conjuguent, et nous laissent dans une sorte de mélancolie qui ne perd pas le sourire. Cet acquis du néoréalisme dans une représentation délibérément théâtralisée en même temps que puissamment rêvée étonne ses contemporains, qui parfois hésitent encore à vraiment reconnaitre ses 32 Qu’on peut voir, par exemple, à la page 125 du Libro—Fellini est alors en analyse depuis plus de trois ans avec le Dr Bernhard. Sur ce thème, cf. Stourzé (2007).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 140

innovations et sa force créatrice. Le Dr Bernhard aimait les arts et les artistes. Mais on ne sait pas de quel œil il voyait ce cinéma. Ni ce qu’il a bien pu en dire à Fellini, ou avec lui.33 Et moins encore comment il a réagi à la diffusion de La Dolce Vita dès le début des années 1960, au cours donc de l’analyse du cinéaste avec lui. Il serait d’autant plus intéressant de vraiment connaître la façon dont cet analyste a pu voir et recevoir ce film qu’avant sa consécration par la Palme d’or du Festival de Cannes, les réactions qu’il a suscitées ont été plus que vives et contrastées. La polémique a fait rage, l’Osservatore Romano l’a condamné, il a été interdit aux moins de 18 ans, et Fellini en a été lui-même si marqué qu’en avril 1961, il a rêvé qu’il se trouvait violemment pris à partie et admonesté par Mgr Montini, alors cardinal archevêque de Milan, et futur Paul VI (Libro:63). Si le regard du Dr Bernhard sur le cinéma de Fellini jusqu’au moment de son entrée en analyse avec lui nous intéresserait, il nous serait plus précieux encore de savoir comment il a bien pu accompagner le cinéaste dans la conception et la réalisation de Otto e Mezzo. Ce film est surprenant. Saisissant. L’univers cinématographique de Fellini prend alors une telle distance par rapport à l’art traditionnel de la continuité d’un récit, qu’il s’avère puissamment et terriblement éclaté, presque fait de bric et de broc, en tous cas composé de tant de pièces et de morceaux qu’on est bien en peine de le raconter avec quelque cohérence.34 Fellini, dans ce film, et de là pour ses autres créations, travaille de plus en plus en studio—jusqu’à y faire construire la Via Veneto quand il veut en faire un lieu, un objet, de son film. Fellini vit d’ailleurs de plus en plus mal la conception et la mise en œuvre des films qu’il s’est engagé à réaliser. Surtout quand il aborde un nouveau film à concevoir, et dans les premiers temps d’un tournage. On connait ses atermoiements, détours et ruses en tous genres quand il a à dire quel est son projet, à se rendre sur le plateau, à choisir ses acteurs, à donner un titre au film qu’il va réaliser, ou même qu’il a réalisé. Ainsi en est-il pour le titre de Otto e Mezzo. Les critiques et historiens du cinéma vont d’une hypothèse à l’autre pour expliquer le titre de ce film. Tullio Kezich lui-même se livre à un calcul aussi acrobatique que peu convaincant pour le justifier (2007:240). Alors que ce titre dit ce qu’il en est. Après les films qu’il a réalisés jusqu’alors, celui-ci est une étape, une sorte d’étape, en fait

33 D’ailleurs, malgré les livres maintenant assez nombreux qui se proposent de relater une analyse, qui peut dire ce qui vraiment s’y est joué, et ce qui s’y vit ? 34 Sur cette organisation en puzzle des scènes felliniennes, cf. aussi l’excellente préface de Italo Calvino à Faire un film (1996).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 141

un demi-pas, vers le cinéma qui se cherche, que Fellini cherche à créer. Ce que le Maestro vit mal. Il est plus que jamais prêt à se défiler, à se sauver, à se cacher. Alors qu’autour de lui, on l’attend, on le presse, on le flatte, on l’admire, on le célèbre, on se réjouit, on dépense des sommes folles pour la réalisation de ses films, et on l’exploite. Et lui-même jouit de sa maestria quand enfin il s’y met, quand il a tout son monde à sa main, un monde qu’il crée, ajuste et bricole, manipule, déforme, transforme, soumet et plie à ce qui paraît être son bon vouloir ou sa volonté. Fellini, bien sûr, veut aller de l’avant. Il cherche à avancer encore. Mais c’est dur. On le voit tout notamment quand, au milieu des années 1960, au terme donc de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard, il veut absolument mettre en œuvre un film obsédant, cent fois repensé et remis en chantier, et jamais réalisé, le film qui aurait dû s’appeler Il viaggio di G. Mastorna. C’est une méchante histoire. Rien moins que l’histoire d’un accident d’avion qui, cette fois, devait passer de ses rêves-cauchemars à un film. Nous avons vu qu’il en a dessiné toute une série dans son Libro dei sogni, notamment après ses nombreux rêves des années 1960 et des années 1980 que nous avons vus plus haut. Cet accident d’avion, ce crash devait conduire à l’au-delà, il devait déboucher sur la vie après la mort.35 Sauf que pour concevoir et réaliser ce qui suit cette mort, les différentes versions de son projet se perdent dans les évocations d’une errance vaguement hallucinée de la vie d’ici-bas. Il fait construire à grands frais des décors qui peinent à donner corps à cet au-delà qui lui échappe,36 comme lui échappe le héros de cette histoire, dont il veut montrer le désarroi, mais que Marcello Mastroiani lui-même, transformé en l’occurrence en violoncelliste, ne réussit pas à incarner. Ce projet de film restera dans les limbes où se perd son scénario qui bute à tout instant sur des recherches vaines, des indécisions et contradictions multiples, des obstacles à répétition et d’innombrables appels à l’aide.37 Et il hantera Fellini qui ne pourra qu’en reprendre des

35 Dario Zanelli, l’auteur de L’Enfer imaginaire de Federico Fellini (1955), montre que ce film pourrait bien être la réponse, sans Jugement dernier, de Fellini à l’Enfer de Dante qu’on lui aurait trop longtemps infligé pendant ses années d’école à Rimini. Tullio Kezich, de son côté, considère qu’il aurait sa source dans le roman de Dino Buzzati Le Strano viaggio di Domenico Molo publié en feuilleton en 1938 dans le magazine Omnibus (puis en 1942 sous le titre Il sacrilegio dans le recueil I settemessaggeri), alors que Fellini avait 18 ans. C’est en effet à Dino Buzzati que Fellini s’adressera pour écrire le scénario de ce film. 36 On retrouvera ces décors trois ans plus tard dans les premières scènes de Bloc-Notes d’un cinéaste (1969). 37 Cf. la Préface de Aldo Tassone à la publication du scénario de ce film jamais réalisé

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 142

bribes et des morceaux, parfois des scènes entières, à partir de 1968 dans Toby Dammit, le Satyricon, Roma, E la nave va, et jusque dans La Voce della luna en 1990. Reste que ce projet de film a buté sur sa réalisation. C’est une butée. Et cette butée est celle de la mort que ce projet veut traverser. Fellini veut forcer le passage. Il veut aller de l’autre côté. Mais en vain.

TOURNER LE DOS? Aurions-nous perdu de vue la page de Sion où pleure ce drôle de clown qu’est l’Arlequin accroché à un corbillard? Certes non. C’est l’observation de la tenue formelle de cette page qui nous a conduits jusqu’ici. C’est le suspens où elle est. L’état de suspens où elle nous met. Car nous en sommes aux contradictions et tensions vécues plus que jamais par Federico Fellini—des contradictions et tensions qui certes sont dues assez largement aux pressions à produire que subit le Maestro, mais qui aussi, et plus radicalement, relèvent de la difficulté où il se trouve pour avancer dans son œuvre, pour s’avancer encore. Une autre page de ce Libro peut nous le faire mieux comprendre. On se souvient de la scène où nous l’avons vu fuyant un aéronef qui explose tandis que dans son rêve il s’écriait ‘Scappiamo! / Fuyons!’. C’est, nous l’avons vu, à la page 386, où Fellini dit un rêve de décembre 1990 qui le montre, une fois de plus, fuyant le crash d’un avion. Or sur la page qui fait face à celle-ci, en face donc de ce ‘Scappiamo!’, se trouve une autre page, un autre rêve, apparemment du même jour, ou de la même nuit.38 Dans ce rêve, sur le dessin de ce rêve, on voit qu’est dressé un petit théâtre de Guignols, théâtre de parc ou de jardin, un castelet, d’où sort une bulle, un phylactère, où on peut lire ces mots frappés d’un point d’exclamation, qui semblent bien venir de la bouche du marionnettiste: ‘Vuoi tornare a lavorare o no, Buffone’ / ‘Tu veux retourner travailler ou non, Bouffon’. Et aussi: ‘Deve andare avanti!!’ / ‘Le spectacle doit continuer!!’ (ill. 7).

et intitulé Le Voyage de G. Mastorna (Fellini, Buzzati 2013). Curieusement cet auteur et excellent fellinien parle avec enthousiasme du sentiment de ‘sérénité’ que lui procurerait la lecture de ce projet de film—il est vrai que c’est le ton que Fellini voulait donner à ses dernières séquences. 38 Dans les conditions ordinaires d’une analyse, c’est évidemment au patient, qu’on appelle aussi, à tort, l’analysé, et qu’il vaut mieux appeler l’analysant, qu’incombe au premier titre cet exercice particulier d’association qu’est la pratique de l’‘amplification’ (cf. Gaillard 2001).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 143

Ill. 7. Page 187 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini. Cette interpellation se présente comme le rappel d’une règle, d’une sorte d’impératif que connaissent bien les gens du spectacle, du théâtre, du cinéma ou de l’opéra: ‘Le spectacle doit continuer’. Quant à ce terme de ‘Buffone’, il est brutal et sonne ici comme une insulte, ou pour le moins comme une provocation—à moins que ce ne soit un sérieux défi lancé pour obtenir, enfin, une réaction qui tarderait à venir. Cette interpellation provocatrice s’adresse, sur la scène de ce rêve, à un personnage avec écharpe et grand manteau flottant qui ressemble sérieusement à notre Maestro, qu’on voit de dos, qui s’éloigne, s’en va à grands pas pressés et répond, de loin: ‘Non ti capisco! ... Torna a riva!!’ / ‘Je ne te comprends pas! … Reviens sur la plage!!’. Ce personnage, que Fellini dessine comme il savait si bien se représenter lui-même,39 ne veut décidément rien entendre. Il s’en va au contraire vers la plage, vers la mer, où l’on voit, en perspective, à demi immergée, ou émergente, une de ces femmes à gros seins qui peuplent si manifestement le monde de ses rêves, et largement aussi son cinéma, depuis I Vitelloni au moins.40

39 J’ai montré au congrès de Rimini (2007) et dans mon article dans les Cahiers Jungiens de Psychanalyse (2009) l’évolution, lente, et finalement la transformation des représentations que Fellini donne de lui-même dans son Libro dei sogni. 40 Une émergence ou immersion qu’on retrouvera dans son Casanova (1976).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 144

Notre homme va-t-il réagir? Manifestement non. Il ne veut décidément rien entendre. Il tourne le dos à cette interpellation, à ce théâtre de marionnettes et à son marionnettiste. Il n’en veut rien savoir. Or s’agissant de marionnettes et de marionnettiste, il sait pourtant ce qu’il en est. Il a récemment réalisé son Casanova. C’était en 1976. Ce film, pour moi, est vraiment éprouvant. Il est presqu’insupportable. On peut d’ailleurs se demander comment Donald Sutherland a pu supporter de se faire malmener, maltraiter comme il l’a été, véritablement comme une marionnette, y compris physiquement, pour incarner un être aussi détestable, et d’ailleurs ouvertement détesté par Fellini. Au point qu’au risque de tomber dans un jungisme conceptuel trop facile, on en vient à le voir comme une ‘ombre’ du Maestro.41 Au demeurant, cette page du castelet et celle de ce Fellini qui lui tourne le dos sont de quatre ans postérieures à la réalisation du Casanova. Elles datent de 1980, qui est l’année de La Città delle donne, ce film où Fellini étale, décline et déploie toute une panoplie de femmes énormes, dont on ne sait trop s’il faut décidément s’en garder, ou même les fuir, ou s’il va falloir monter à l’assaut de leurs appâts aussi disproportionnés que des paysages, et dont on ne peut vraiment pas dire qu’ils sont des charmes. En cette fin des années 1970, Fellini explore et expose l’univers terriblement contrasté de ses fantasmes ordinaires. Or qu’est-ce donc qui caractérise la tenue formelle et la thématique de cette deuxième page conservée et exposée à Sion? C’est, nous l’avons vu, le fait que tout au contraire de se présenter comme une débauche de portraits outrés et d’audaces débridées, cette page dit un moment suspendu, un suspens, un arrêt. Et même un recul, le recul que manifestent les deux personnages, Fellini lui-même et son scénariste, qui se tiennent au bord de la page, à bonne distance du clown-Arlequin accroché au corbillard. Le cadre est celui d’un cirque, mais il s’agit d’un mort, d’un deuil, de la mort. Or c’est en 1970 que Fellini réalise I Clowns. Ce film est un événement dans son œuvre. Il tranche sur le mouvement jusqu’alors constamment et brillamment renouvelé de ses créations, et sur ses œuvres postérieures, dont son Casanova, et sa Città delle donne.42 Ce film est dur. Sans facilités ni complaisances. Il ne crée pas un

41 Tandis que Marcello Mastroiani semble vraiment, presqu’à l’évidence—une évidence souvent soulignée—son ‘double’. On connait ces photographies de tournage où Fellini impulse, insuffle la position, l’attitude, le geste et la mimique qu’il attend à son acteur, lequel s’y conforme presque exactement (Stourdzé 2009: 115). 42 Pour suivre pas à pas la dynamique de ces films dans leur enchainement et leur contexte culturel en Italie (cf. Manganaro 2009).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 145

monde où on pourrait se lancer et se perdre à corps perdu. Il se présente comme une enquête. Comme une enquête presque post-mortem. La question qui se pose est en effet peut-être nostalgique, mais elle s’avère sans illusion: que sont donc devenus les clowns d’antan? Ils ne sont pas encore morts. Pas tous. Mais ceux qu’on peut encore rencontrer sont des survivants, très âgés, restes épars et assez désolants d’un temps, d’un art, d’un monde d’hier vraiment perdu, et presque perdu de vue. Ce film est une mise à pied. Pied à terre. Et Fellini se met lui-même dans le champ de sa caméra, participant avec d’autres à cette enquête sur le monde perdu des clowns.43 Ce film est d’autant plus dur qu’il se termine sur une impossible ascension ou assomption. L’ascension ou assomption du clown pris dans les lacets, vrais filets et faux effets d’une fête dans lesquels il se trouve pris, tandis que la ronde du cirque dont Fellini a su si bien jouer dans ses films antérieurs devient ici un cortège funèbre. C’est la fin des clowns. Et, peut-être, la fin, la mort du cirque, de ce cirque de marionnettes que Fellini tentera pourtant de redire, mais sans plus le célébrer, en le représentant au contraire sur un mode on ne peut plus dénonciateur dans son Casanova et dans La Città delle donne. Fellini, dans ce film de 1970 et dans ceux de la fin des années 70, a su se mettre en question, se mettre à la question, non sans quelque ambiguïté évidemment, mais avec une force et même une violence qui tranchent avec les réussites magistrales qui ont fait son succès jusqu’alors, qu’on célèbre, qu’on ne cesse d’attendre de lui, et dont il a tant joui.

UNE AUTRE INTERPELLATION, ANCIENNE ET RÉPÉTÉE On peut se demander, je me suis souvent demandé, ce que Fellini a pu garder en mémoire de ce qui s’est dit lors de son analyse avec le Dr Bernhard. Ou si, comme c’est parfois le cas, surtout quand il s’agit d’enfants ou de jeunes gens, il a avancé ensuite dans sa vie sans plus trop s’en souvenir, ou en tous cas sans trop s’en soucier. À l’invitation de son analyste, il a pourtant pris grand soin de dessiner, d’écrire et de réunir ses rêves dans son Librone tout au long de son analyse et, nous l’avons vu, pendant bien des années ensuite. Il aurait donc pu y retrouver un rêve ancien, du 30 novembre 1960, qu’il avait noté dans les premières pages de son Libro, et qui date des tout premiers temps de son analyse (ill. 8).

43 Il avait commencé peu de temps auparavant à se mettre lui-même dans le champ de sa caméra.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 146

Ill. 8. Page 23 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

On le voit là en haut d’une échelle44, manifestement intéressé par la jeune femme vers laquelle il tend la main, qu’il voudrait bien rattraper, et attraper. Et on peut lire ces mots, écrits sur la page: ‘Signor Fellini, vogliamo lavorare seriamente?’ / ‘Monsieur Fellini, voulez-vous travailler sérieusement?’.45 44 On peut se reporter ici à la scène où il se trouve haut perché sur des échasses (ill. 3). Ces scènes s’inscrivent dans la dialectique et la tension entre hauts et bas dont nous reparlerons plus loin. 45 La traduction française de Flammarion donne ‘voulons-nous travailler

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 147

D’où viennent donc ces mots? Qui donc lui parle ainsi? Serait-ce la jeune femme dont il veut s’approcher et qui ferait mine de le repousser? On ne peut trouver de réponse à cette question sur cette page. On ne peut trouver de réponse qu’en se reportant très loin dans ce Libro, à la page 556. À cette page, en effet, que découvre-t-on? La première partie de ce rêve. Renvoyée dans les dernières pages de ce Livre, dans ses ‘Feuilles volantes­’. Tout se passant comme si notre rêveur avait voulu, ici encore, brouiller les pistes et nous laisser—ou se laisser lui-même—vraiment loin de ce rêve, de sa portée, et en l’occurrence de cette interpellation pourtant écrite sur la page. Dans les ‘Pages volantes’ de ce Livre, à la page 556, on apprend que dans ce rêve, c’est en fait non pas cette jeune personne qui en haut de l’échelle l’interpellerait un verre de champagne à la main. Mais le Dr Bernhard. C’est son analyste qui l’admoneste. Tandis qu’en contrebas, Giulietta aussi l’invite à descendre de cette échelle. Mais le rêveur, qui est donc Fellini lui-même, et la jeune femme en rient, et ne cessent de plaisanter. Tel était donc ce rêve. Mais on ne le découvre pas sans mal. Quel jeu joue donc Federico Fellini, une fois de plus, quand il écrit ce rêve, mais s’arrange pour qu’on ne sache pas trop qui parle? Quand l’origine de ce message qui lui est adressé passe dans les ‘Feuilles volantes’ de son Librone? Se pourrait-il que lui-même n’en veuille rien savoir ? Qu’il l’écrive, mais ne veuille pas le voir? Il peut être tentant de fermer les yeux. Et de ne rien entendre. À fréquenter son Libro dei sogni, on se souvient pourtant du très sonore ‘Sveglia!’ / ‘Réveille-toi!’, qu’il s’est adressé en 1968 déjà, dans le rêve que nous avons vu plus haut d’un avion qui va s’écraser au sol tandis que les pilotes dorment. Le thème de l’aéronef en détresse, au bord du désastre, est décidément plus qu’insistant dans les rêves du Maestro. Si insistant qu’on va retrouver cette même injonction, ce même ‘Sveglia!’, bien des pages plus loin dans ce Libro dei sogni, à la page 417, bien des années plus tard, plus de vingt ans plus tard, en 1990.46 Fellini mourra peu après, en 1993 (ill. 9).

sérieusement?’, une traduction qui a le mérite de rester littérale, mais qui ne tient pas vraiment compte de l’usage ordinaire en italien du ‘vous’ et du ‘nous’ dans un tel contexte. 46 Qui, soit dit au passage, est l’année de La Voce della luna. Je dirai deux mots de ce film plus loin.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 148

Ill. 9. Page 417 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Cette page, qui est l’une des dernières de ce Livre, est une des plus agitées de l’ensemble. On y voit notre rêveur qui se représente vieilli, à demi chauve, désemparé, au milieu des lignes agitées qui relatent ce rêve. Et ce rêve se termine par un ‘Hei! Sveglia!!!’ qui répète celui de 1968, sur un mode plus direct et plus rude et brutal encore que ce n’était le cas trente ans plus tôt. Cet appel au réveil, à l’éveil, court ainsi tout au long de ce Livre, des premiers temps de l’analyse du cinéaste avec le Dr Bernhard à ses dernières années.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 149

À la relation de ce nouveau rêve sur le même motif s’ajoute une réflexion, ce qui reste assez rare dans ce livre et fait écho à celles qu’il avait écrites en 1968. On peut lire: ‘debbo svegliarmi, sto dormendo da troppo tempo’ / ‘je dois me réveiller, je dors depuis trop longtemps’. Sans qu’on sache si cette réflexion a eu lieu dans ce rêve, ou si Fellini se l’est adressée au réveil. Trente ans ont donc passé entre cette scène et celle de 1968. Le rêveur n’est plus maintenant perché tout en haut d’une échelle, jouant les séducteurs et se jouant de l’injonction de son analyste qu’il renvoie dans les ‘Feuilles volantes’ de son Librone. Il se voit et se montre maintenant de face, de front, et ne cache plus son désarroi, un désarroi plus radical encore qu’en 1968, qui frôle l’affolement, tandis qu’il veut s’adresser à lui-même un message dont il note que la feuille qui le porte ‘est complètement blanche, qu’il n’y a rien d’écrit dessus…’ (référence). La scène reste en suspens, en définitive aussi muette que le message qu’il veut se faire parvenir. Voilà qui nous ramène à la scène du clown en pleurs. Regardons mieux encore cette page de Sion, que nous cherchons à dater.

LA MORT DU CLOWN ? Voyons, à côté de ce clown en pleurs de cette page, un personnage apparemment accablé qui s’exclame ‘ molto commovente’. Ce personnage qui se tient bien à distance de l’Arlequin qui pleure, c’est Zapponi, Fellini écrit son nom sur la page. Bernardino Zapponi est scénariste. Et c’est un ami du couple Federico-Giulietta Masina. Il collabore avec Fellini depuis 1968. Voilà donc qui confirme que cette page est postérieure à 1968. Mais comment préciser à quelle date postérieure à celle-là elle a pu être dessinée? Ces thèmes de la mort et du passage à un autre monde, hantent, on l’a vu, notre cinéaste depuis déjà le milieu des années 1960. Et ces thèmes se retrouvent dans l’une et l’autre de ces deux pages de Sion, dans le crash de l’avion et dans la scène du clown en pleurs accroché au corbillard—ce qui les apparente, et pourrait bien nous amener à penser que décidément la date de cette scène du clown qui pleure ne sera pas plus simple à établir que celle du crash de l’avion. Sauf qu’un autre dessin, une autre scène du Libro va nous aider à avancer. En 1966, alors donc que l’analyse de Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard vient de se terminer par la mort de son analyste, qu’il se débat avec le projet de Voyage de Mastorna et que déjà il veut l’abandonner, voici que

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 150

dans un de ses rêves une main lui tend des feuilles encore blanches. Et derrière cette main qui se tend, on voit, son dessin nous le montre, un dessin, un portrait, non pas du Dr Bernhard, mais de Carl Gustav Jung, le mentor de son analyste (ill. 10).

Ill. 10. Page 165 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Fellini lisait volontiers Jung. Plutôt dans le désordre, évidemment. Je ne sais donc pas s’il a jamais lu l’essai de Jung sur Picasso, et moins encore s’il en a jamais parlé lors de ses séances avec le Dr Bernhard.47 C’est un fait en tous cas que dans cet essai assez sombre du début des années trente, Jung s’interroge sur le mauvais pas où se trouve Picasso à cette époque de sa vie et de son œuvre (Hillman and Shamdasani 2013; Gaillard 2013,

47 Fellini partageait avec George Simenon une admiration constamment réaffirmée pour Jung (Fellini, Simenon 1998).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 151

2016). Il s’en inquiète, et tente en particulier de comprendre la présence alors insistante dans cette peinture des gens du cirque, en particulier celle des clowns et celle d’Arlequin.48 On remarque que le clown de cette planche de Sion porte un habit d’Arlequin, fait de pièces et de morceaux. Et on remarque aussi que c’est également le cas de cette sorte d’Auguste qu’on voit en haut de cette page.49 Si Fellini a lu Jung, il sait de quelle menace de mise en morceaux, de quel morcellement, il peut s’agir.50 Et s’il ne l’a pas lu, il peut le savoir, par son expérience propre, par sa pratique du dessin, par la composition de ses films, surtout à partir de 1969-1970, et par le cours de sa vie. Mine de rien, le tragi-comique de cette scène du clown en pleurs touche Fellini au plus vif de ses angoisses à la fois de crash, d’effondrement, d’éclatement et de mort. Sous ses grands airs de magicien-cinéaste, il est hanté par un sacrifice impossible—le sacrifice des figures idéales de son imaginaire, de lui-même en Maestro, et de sa lanterne magique qui pourrait bien, sait-on jamais, voler en éclats. Quant à la date de cette planche, on aurait pu penser qu’elle est contemporaine du dessin de ‘Giulietta’ mourante, et qu’elle aurait donc été réalisée au début des années soixante, dans les premiers temps de l’analyse de Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard. Mais on a appris que Zapponi ne travaillait pas encore avec lui. Il nous a donc fallu relancer et réajuster notre enquête pour en arriver à donner une date à cette page où pleure l’Arlequin. On avait aussi pu penser que cette scène pourrait bien être contemporaine de la première planche de Sion, celle de l’avion qui s’écrase, et qu’elle pourrait dater du début des années 1980, c’est-à-dire du début de la dernière décennie de la vie de Fellini, une décennie, la dernière de sa vie, qui sera pour lui méchamment dure et sombre, tant pour ce qui est de sa vie quotidienne que pour ce qui concerne ses capacités de création. Mais si la tenue formelle et le thème de ce dessin permet cette hypothèse, rappelons-nous ses dimensions et sa présentation presque carrée—ce qui, quand on les rapporte à celles des pages du Libro, ne permet que difficilement de la soutenir. 48 Il dit cette inquiétude de bien des façons, en particulier en évoquant à demi-mot la figure du danseur de corde telle qu’elle apparaît dans le Zarathoustra de Nietzsche, et le sort tragique qui le menace. 49 À propos du Clown blanc et de l’Auguste, cf. Merlino (2007), le chapitre intitulé ‘Les ambassadeurs de ma vocation’, et Gili (2009: 53). 50 Jung, à partir de sa fréquentation de l’iconographie et de la littérature des alchimistes, et à partir de sa pratique de clinicien, parle dans sa langue de ‘Zerstükelung’, ce qu’on traduit ordinairement par ‘morcellement’, alors qu’à mon sens parler de ‘mise ne morceaux’ serait plus juste (cf. Gaillard 2017:chapitre VII, 1978:38 sq et 151 sq).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 152

J’en conclus que cette planche du clown en pleurs a été plus probablement réalisée au cours des années dont ce Libro, curieusement, ne nous dit rien, entre 1969 et 1973, et plus précisément en 1970, au moment donc où Fellini concevait ou réalisait I Clowns, son film sans doute le plus autobiographique, écrit Jean Gili, mais sans trop s’en expliquer (référence). Dans ce film, Fellini se filme lui-même. Il est le cinéaste, et il est dans le champ de sa caméra, ce qui est nouveau. Il se filme lui-même ou se fait filmer parmi les acteurs de son film. On le voit là non pas en grand ordonnateur perché sur la haute machine de tournage qui porte sa caméra, mais au sol, parmi les autres. Il est lui-même un des protagonistes de la recherche et de la rencontre des vieux clowns qui ne le sont plus. Et ce film le regarde.

DRÔLE DE CONFRONTATION Avec ce film, Fellini se confronte lui-même à la fin de ses tours et détours de magicien du cinéma. Il est alors bien près de les mettre en question, d’en faire son deuil peut-être. De se mettre sérieusement en question. On le voit sur la partie haute de cette page qui admoneste, qui rappelle à l’ordre l’Auguste, lequel, d’ailleurs, avec le gros cigare qu’il arbore ostensiblement et sa mine fermée ne semble pas vraiment disposé à l’entendre. On sait que Fellini se plaisait à classer tout un chacun dans la catégorie des Augustes ou des Clown Blancs.51 On ne s’étonnera pas trop de voir qu’il se voyait lui-même en Auguste—et on notera qu’il mettait aussi Jung dans cette catégorie, tandis que pour lui Freud était un Clown blanc. Avec ce dessin, on reste dans le cadre d’un cirque. Et cet Auguste reste entouré d’ombres fantomatiques. Dans la partie basse de cette page, tout tourne autour d’un corbillard. Il s’agit bien de la mort. D’un mort. Mais qui donc est mort en l’affaire ? Regardons mieux encore. Le clown en pleurs s’écrie: ‘mon père… hei! Père… hei!!’, en français sur la page.52 On dit et répète qu’il s’agirait ici de la mort du clown. Mais alors à qui donc s’adresserait cet appel au bord du corbillard? Et si c’était non pas cet Arlequin, mais le père et créateur des clowns qui était mort? Si c’était le cinéaste passé maître dans la création de tant de figures clownesques poussées jusqu’à cet extrême où le plus singulier rejoint le plus typique?

51 Cf. Merlino (2007) dans le chapitre intitulé ‘Les ambassadeurs de ma vocation’, et Gili (2009: 53). 52 I Clowns a été tourné en grande partie à Paris. PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 153

Quand il relate son rêve de 1970, il est tout près de se le dire, d’en prendre acte, ou du moins il tente de le faire, lui, le père de tant de clowns et de clowneries. Il tente d’en prendre acte dans ce rêve du corbillard, dans sa transcription de ce rêve, et dans le film qu’alors il conçoit ou déjà réalise sur le monde perdu des clowns. Mais avec un écart entre ce rêve et ce film. Le rêve est plus direct et plus radical. Ce rêve lui parle de sa propre mort—même si on reste sur la scène d’un cirque. Dans son film, certes il se fait voir, et nous fait voir, un corbillard et l’impossible ascension ou assomption du clown sur fond de funérailles qui se voudraient festives. Mais lui-même, dans ce film, reste un des protagonistes de cette scène de deuil, et il est derrière la caméra, et par là, de fait, ce n’est pas lui qu’on enterre. Le cinéma engage, plus que le rêve, à une prise de distance et à une élaboration secondaire plus contrôlée.53 Il reste, dans ce film, sur le bord de ce que pourtant il veut voir, et savoir. Alors que sur la page de Sion, il s’agit bien, expressément, de la mort du père des clowns, même s’il se garde bien de vraiment le dire, de se le dire peut-être, se tenant comme il se tient sur le bord de la page, sans vraiment tourner le dos à ce corbillard, mais à bonne distance, et en compagnie de son scénariste qui, lui aussi, se garde bien de trop s’émouvoir et de prendre l’événement au sérieux. En cette année 1970, avec ce dessin et avec ce film, ce diable de Federico Fellini s’approche plus que jamais de ce qui le regarde, mais qu’il se garde de bien de voir trop directement, et trop sérieusement. Il faudra bien des années, près de 12 ans, pour qu’à la suite d’un autre rêve dont nous avons parlé plus haut (cf. sous-partie ‘L’art de brouiller les pistes’), il s’adresse à lui-même en écrivant, en février 1982, cette fois vraiment sans ambages ni faux fuyant: ‘…scomparso, il re del cinema’ / ‘…il a disparu, le roi du cinéma’, ‘…sicuramente debellato, Fellini’ 54 / ‘…il est vaincu à coup sûr, Fellini’, ‘Insomma, ero morto’ / ‘Bref, j’étais mort’. Serait-il donc vraiment mort, Federico Fellini? Certes, le Maestro souffre. Son rapport à lui-même, à son corps, à son âge, à son temps n’est vraiment plus ce qu’il était. Il s’en plaindra, amèrement, au cours des années 1980, ses dernières années, malgré les honneurs qui s’accumulent et le témoignage d’admiration dont il pourrait jouir.

53 Par élaboration secondaire on entend après Freud ce travail qui consiste à rendre plus acceptable intellectuellement ou émotionnellement un fait trop difficile à recevoir et à considérer. 54 ‘Debellato’ est un terme très fort (cf. note de bas de page 21).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 154

Ces années 1980 seront celles, pourtant, de E la nave va et de La Voce delle luna, des films qui pour moi comptent parmi les plus accomplis, les plus forts et les plus justes de son œuvre. Le dirait-il lui-même? Il lui faudrait alors—on le lui souhaiterait—distinguer le sacrifice, apparemment nécessaire, de ses complaisances dans l’imaginaire et la puissance symbolique, irremplaçable, de ce qu’il peut et sait créer.

POUR CONCLURE. ENTRE HAUT SET BAS Dater ces pages n’a pas été simple. La première de ces pages, celle du crash de l’avion, qui parle d’une menace d’éclatement, de chute, d’effondrement, et de fuite éperdue, relève d’une thématique qui traverse l’œuvre et la vie de Fellini. Elle peut avoir été dessinée et écrite à l’occasion de diverses étapes de sa vie et de son œuvre, de la fin des années 1960 à la fin des années 1970. La seconde, celle du corbillard sur fond de cirque, date, quant à elle, très vraisemblablement de 1970, du moment où il a réalisé I Clowns, le film où il est sans doute le plus proche de lui-même à la fois dans ses rêves, dans son cinéma, et de la reconnaissance des forces et des formes qui l’habitent, de ce qu’il peut en faire, et de ce qu’il pourrait devenir. Ces deux pages peuvent avoir été contemporaines, mais elles ne le sont pas nécessairement. Elles s’inscrivent l’une et l’autre dans une ligne de fond qui perdure, persiste, et insiste, tout au long de la vie et de l’œuvre de Fellini, dans cette ligne de fond que j’ai pu qualifier de ‘basse obstinée’, ou de ‘basse continue’. Mais avec une sérieuse différence de centre de gravité entre l’une et l’autre. Le crash de l’avion vient des airs et fait s’enfuir à toutes jambes les pauvres humains que ce crash peut détruire, alors que la scène du clown qui pleure a vraiment lieu à terre—même s’il faut remarquer que nous sommes là encore sur le terrain, sur la piste, d’un cirque. L’année 1970, celle de I Clowns, est un des moments les plus durs et les plus cruciaux de l’œuvre et de la vie de Fellini. Il tombe alors de haut. Le temps des jeux et artifices dans lesquels il a si longtemps montré sa maestria est alors sérieusement dépassé—avant qu’il ne retrouve un souffle autrement créatif, toujours rêveur, mais bien différemment, avec Roma (1972), Amarcord (1793), et La Voce della luna (1990), tandis qu’avec son Casanova (1976), Prova d’orchestra (1979), La Città delle donne (1980) et Intervista (1987), il met son art au service d’un regard sans merci sur les rêves et mirages qu’il s’est plu à cultiver jusqu’alors (ill. 11).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 155

Ill. 11. Page 305 du Libro Courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini.

Cette page du Libro date d’avril 1975. Donc des derniers mois de l’analyse de Fellini avec le Dr Bernhard. Il s’agit d’une ‘image hypnagogique’, précise Fellini. C’est-à-dire qu’elle lui est venue dans une sorte de ‘rêve éveillé’, un exercice de l’imagination plus proche de l’éveil que ne le sont d’ordinaire les rêves de la nuit. Je suppose que le Dr Bernhard n’en a pas été mécontent—et je me demande bien ce qu’il a pu en dire.55 Le rêveur dans cette scène se montre lui-même éloignant avec force et vigueur, et d’un souffle et d’un air furieux, l’image si insistante d’une de ces femmes tout en seins et en fesses dont il se plait tant à cultiver l’image, et qui là s’en va sur un nuage—comme un nuage. On peut se demander si Fellini s’en est vraiment souvenu au cours des décennies suivantes. Avec l’œuvre de Fellini, son univers et sa vie, on a affaire à des avancées qui relèvent de rythmes différents. À ses réussites cinématographiques plus que magistrales qui ne cessent de nous impressionner et de nous éblouir, et de le réjouir lui-même, répondent tant bien que mal les expressions d’un

55 A propos d’éveil, qu’on revoie le ‘Sveglia’ (1968: 20) ci-dessus, qui se retrouvera bien plus loin dans ce Libro, et dans sa vie, à l’occasion d’un rêve de juillet 1990 (ill. 9 ci-dessus), dans un contexte de grand désordre et désarroi.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 156

mouvement de fond qui avance comme il peut, et s’avère parfois durement éprouvant. Ce mouvement de fond, cet accompagnement de fond, tout au contraire d’aller toujours de l’avant, d’être toujours in progress, obéit à une temporalité qui lui est propre.56 Non pas qu’il soit hors-le-temps —‘zeitlos’, comme Freud pouvait le dire de l’inconscient. Mais il a sa propre persévérance. Et ses propres moyens d’insistance. On a vu en effet que le thème des aéronefs qui explosent et s’écrasent, qui est celui de la première page de Sion, peut se répéter, ou donner lieu à des transformations plus ou moins notables, mais qui en fait le laissent assez semblable à lui- même. On peut avoir l’impression que ce thème, ce motif de la catastrophe aérienne, refuse l’avancée, qu’il est décidément réfractaire au changement, qu’il renâcle obstinément devant la transformation. Sauf qu’à force d’insistance, cette ‘basse obstinée’ ou ‘continue’ finit parfois par se faire entendre, par se placer, et même par s’imposer, de sorte qu’alors elle entre dans le champ, dans le champ de la conscience, même si elle peut s’avérer vraiment malvenue, plus qu’importune, et si dérangeante qu’on ne peut vraiment lui faire place. C’est l’histoire de l’impossible projet de Il viaggio di G. Mastorna. L’évidence du corbillard et du clown en pleurs sur la deuxième page de Sion parle, quant à elle, de cette butée si difficile à ignorer et à considérer qu’est la mort. Quelle mort ? Qu’est-ce donc qui peut, ou doit, ou devrait mourir? Notre Maestro peut tenter de prendre de la distance, il peut vouloir s’en distancier, jusqu’à presque tourner le dos à ce qui se présente là, et s’impose. Serait-ce lui-même, ce lui-même qu’il s’est construit qui se trouverait là mis en cause, et mis à mal, sérieusement menacé? L’œuvre cinématographique de Fellini tente de reprendre à son compte, et de prendre au sérieux ce qui a commencé à s’exprimer, à se donner à voir, à reconnaitre et à vivre dans ses rêves. Le thème de la mort et du deuil se retrouvera au cœur de E la nave va, ce film si impressionnant dont j’ai évoqué le ton à la fois éprouvant, émouvant et caricatural. D’une étape à l’autre de son Libro dei sogni et aussi de son œuvre, ce thème des aéronefs qui explosent et celui des clowns en pleurs progressivement s’esquissent, s’insinuent, parfois s’esquivent, mais aussi insistent, résistent, et s’affirment avec une insistance obstinée qui peut certes tourner à la répétition et dans ce cas, parfois, ils tournent en

56 S’agissant des processus de création, deux livres restent particulièrement éclairants, L’Ordre caché de l’art, de Anton Ehrenzweig (1974), et Le Corps de l’œuvre, de Didier Anzieu (1981).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 157

rond, mais ils n’en tentent pas moins d’intervenir, d’interpeller l’œuvre et l’homme, jusqu’à s’imposer parfois—à défaut de se faire vraiment entendre. C’est que notre Maestro avance et se débat comme il peut. On connait ces photographies de lui en cinéaste-cameraman et ces plans de certains de ses films, dont Fellini Roma, où haut perché sur les machines portant sa caméra et le porte-voix à la main il se fait allègrement et puissamment aérien, grand ordonnateur du monde des acteurs, figurants et techniciens qu’il dirige et qu’il a à sa main. Ces hauteurs ne sont pas sans danger. Les aéronefs ont leurs faiblesses. Ils sont vulnérables. Ils peuvent même éclater. Comment alors éviter la catastrophe? Il vaut mieux s’enfuir, et au plus vite, on l’a vu. Ou déjouer l’événement. Par le jeu. Le jeu du cirque. Un jeu qui peut faire rire. Mais qui a sa gravité. Celle des clowns. On peut aussi s’en réjouir, plus ingénument. C’est le sourire si attachant de Gelsomina. Qui est grimé, il est vrai. Mais qui enchante. Sauf qu’il va changer. Sous le sourire qu’on veut croire si heureux de Giulietta Masina, le portrait, d’un film à l’autre, se fait moins confiant, et moins crédule, au point d’en devenir presque caricatural quand on regarde Giulietta degli spiriti et La Città delle donne. C’est qu’avec la femme, les femmes, on ne sait trop comment s’y prendre. On est vite débordé. Fellini, dans ses rêves, regarde, et se regarde. On aurait aimé, bien sûr, qu’au-delà, ou plutôt à l’occasion de leur transcription dessinée et écrite il s’étonne de ce qui se présente et se représente là. Qu’il discute ce qu’il se fait voir dans ses nuits. Et nous fait voir et vivre dans ses films. On aurait aimé qu’il en débatte avec lui-même. Comme Jung l’a fait dans son Livre Rouge. Débattre peut conduire à se battre. À affronter ce qui se présente. À s’y confronter. Dans les rêves de Fellini, et dans son œuvre, il s’agit d’une affaire en cours. Dont il est partie prenante. On a vu, j’espère, ou du moins entrevu au fil de ce que j’ai pu dire de ses rêves, comment il est passé, au rythme des transformations de son cinéma, du haut des airs et des échasses et échelles auxquelles où il a pu s’accrocher à de bien étranges et inquiétants monstres marins, qui, en contrebas hélas échouent sur la plage, comme dans Otto e mezzo, ou s’imposent sur sa pellicule, et sur la plage (ill. 12).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 158

Ill. 12 le rhinocéros sur le bateau de E la nave va. (Gili:88). Cette scène se trouve dans les dernières séquences de E la nave va. Ce film de 1983 est pour moi un des plus excellemment felliniens et des plus impressionnants de son œuvre cinématographique.57 Fellini y met magistralement en scène son univers le plus rêvé avec la diva admirée et décédée dont on va jeter les cendres à la mer et toute une brochette de personnages d’un temps passé à la fois dérisoires, dépassés et touchants58, que rattrapent l’actualité et les brutalités d’un abordage qu’ils n’ont pu concevoir ni prévoir. Le film se termine sur le transport maritime de ce rhinocéros aussi disproportionné que nourricier.59 On a qualifié ces scènes de fins de films de surréalistes. À tort. Elles sont subréelles et puissamment archaïques. Elles relèvent de ce travail de fond dont j’ai dit qu’il le hantait, et qui tente, mais longuement en vain, de faire surface et de se laisser apprivoiser. Le centre de gravité et la tonalité de ce Libro dei sogni, et aussi de l’œuvre cinématographique de Fellini ont bien changé d’une œuvre à

57 Stéphane Marti et Nicolas Rouiller ont conçu et réalisé une belle installation sur le thème de ce film pour l’exposition Fellini organisée en l’honneur de l’anniversaire des cent ans de la naissance de Fellini par la Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma à la Maison du Diable à Sion, en 2020. 58 On y voit au passage Pina Bausch, qui traverse la scène et cette étrange compagnie, ce qui contribue à la profondeur douloureuse de ce film. 59 Aimé Agnel a mis en évidence ces fins de films dans son article intitulé ‘Jung et Fellini. L’inconscient crée des images, le film reste à faire’ (2012).

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 159

l’autre, et d’une décennie à l’autre de sa vie. Cette gravité était déjà bien là dans son œuvre, dès La Strada, et elle a traversé bien des jeux qui n’étaient pas que des effets de cirque. Elle s’est nouée dans I Clowns, jusqu’à ce qu’enfin, dans La Voce della luna, il se mette et nous laisse le dos bien à terre et le regard tourné vers les lumières de la nuit, dans une conscience alors d’autant plus juste et plus interrogative qu’elle s’est faite lunaire (Stein 1993). Suivre d’une page à l’autre ce Libro dei sogni, c’est accompagner pas à pas ce cinéaste admirablement créateur qui apprend chemin faisant les aléas, les émergences et les découvertes toujours surprenantes et parfois sérieusement dérangeantes d’un rapport à l’inconscient qui s’avère à la fois défensif, nourricier et fécond. La création en provient. Et de là l’artiste procède comme il peut, à la manière qui est la sienne, et avec les moyens dont il sait se doter.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE Agnel, Aimé. 2012. ‘Jung et Fellini. L’inconscient crée des images, le film reste à faire’. Cahiers jungiens de psychanalyse 135:7-17. Angeluci, Gianfranco. 2013. Segreti e bugie di Federico Fellini. Cosenza: Luigi Pellegrini Editore. Anzieu, Didier. 1981. Le corps de l’œuvre. Paris: Gallimard. Bachelard, Gaston. 1941. L’Air et les songes.Paris: José Corti. Calvino, Italo. 1996. Faire un film. Paris: Le Seuil. Bellocchio, Lella Ravasi. 2009. L’Inconscio creatore. Bergamo: Moretti e Vitali. Buzzati, Dino (1942). I sette messaggeri. Milano: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore. Ehrenzweig, Anton. 1974 [1964]. L’Ordre caché de l’art: essai sur le psychologie de l’imagination artistique. Paris: Gallimard, traduit de l’anglais par Francine Lacoue-Labarthe et Claire Nancy. Fellini, Federico. 2007. Il Libro dei miei sogni. Mostra a cura di Tullio Kezich e Vittorio Boarini; con la collaborazione di Giuseppe Ricci. Milano: Rizzoli.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 160

Fellini, Federico et Georges Simenon. 1998. Carissimo Simenon. Mon cher Fellini. Paris: Cahiers du Cinéma. Fellini, Federico et Damian Pettigrew. 1994. Fellini, je suis un grand menteur. Paris: L’Arche. Fellini, Federico, Dino Buzzati, et Brunello Rondi. 2013. Le Voyage de G. Mastorna. Préface d’Aldo Tassone. Paris: Sonatine éditions. Gaillard, Christian. 1978. Musée imaginaire de C. G. Jung. Paris: Stock. ———.2001. ‘Amplification et pensée après Jung.’ Topique. Revue freudienne 76:73-86. ———. 2006. ‘The Arts’. In Renos Papadopoulos (éd.) The Handbook of Jungian Psychology. London, New York: Routledge:324-377. ———. 2007. ‘Dire et non-dit du rêve.’ Federico Fellini. Il Libro dei miei sogni. Convegno Internazionale Presieduto da Tullio Kezich. Rimini, Teatro degli Atti, 9-10 novembre. Rimini: Fondazione Federico Fellini:107-131. ———. 2009a. ‘Dire et non-dit du rêve. Le Libro dei sogni de Federico Fellini.’ Cahiers jungiens de psychanalyse 129, juin:47-81. ———. 2009b. ‘Le Livre des rêves. Fantasmes, angoisses et obsessions du maestro.’ Tutto Fellini ! Exposition au Jeu de Paume. Rétrospective à la Cinémathèque française. Paris: Beaux Arts éditions. ———. 2009b. ‘Dire e non detto nel sogno. Il Libro dei sogni di Federico Fellini.’ In Christian Gaillard, Lella Revasi Bellochio L’inconscio creatore. Attorno al Libro dei sogni di Federico Fellini. Bergamo: Moretti &Vitali:9-63. ———. 2010.‘Takingwing and the ordeal of immersion: Reflections on Federico Fellini’s Il Libro dei sogni.’ Jung Journal. Culture and Psyche 4 (2), Spring:31-61. ———. 2013. ‘Jung, Picasso et le bleu.’Revue de psychologie analytique 1, juillet:33-73. ———. 2016. ‘L’Originaire est quotidien.’ In Sacco François & Éric Robert (éd.) L’Origine des représentations. Regards croisés sur l’art préhistorique. Paris: Ithaque:81-93. ———. 2017.Jung. Paris, PUF. Gili, Jean A. 2009. Fellini. Le Magicien du réel. Paris: Gallimard.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 CHRISTIAN GAILLARD 161

Hillman, James and Sonu Shamdasani. 2013. Lament of the Dead. Psychology after Jung’s Red Book. New York: Norton & Company. Kezich, Tullio. 2007. Federico Fellini: sa vie et ses films. Paris: Gallimard. Manganaro, Jean-Paul. 2009. Federico Fellini Romance. Paris: Gallimard, POL. Mauron, Charles. 1963. Métaphores obsédantes et mythe personnel. Paris: José Corti, Merlino, Benito. 2007. Fellini. Paris: Gallimard. Risset, Jacqueline. 2007. ‘L’ombelico del sogno. Il metodo di Federico Fellini.’ Federico Fellini. Il Libro dei miei sogni. Convegno Internazionale Presieduto da Tullio Kezich. Rimini, Teatro degli Atti, 9-10 novembre. Rimini: Fondazione Federico Fellini:231-243. Stein, Murray. 1993. Solar conscience. Lunar Conscience. Wilmette: Chiron. Stourdzé, Sam. 2007. ‘Fellini, le faiseur d’images.’ Federico Fellini. Il Libro dei miei sogni. Convegno Internazionale Presieduto da Tullio Kezich. Rimini, Teatro degli Atti, 9-10 novembre. Rimini: Fondazione Federico Fellini:57-78. ———. 2009. Fellini. La Grande Parade. Paris: Anabet/Le Jeu de Paume. Zanelli, Dario. 1955. L’Enfer imaginaire de Federico Fellini. Rimini: Guaraldi.

FILMOGRAPHIE Fellini, Federico. 1963. 8½. Roma: Cineriz ———. 1965. Giulietta degli spiriti. Rome, Paris: Federiz, Francoriz Production. ———. 1968. Toby Dammit. Rome, Paris: Produzioni Europee Associate, Les Films Marceau-Cocinor. ———. 1969. Fellini Satyricon, Roma, Alberto Grimaldi. ———. 1969. Fellini: A Director’s Notebook. New York: NBC Productions Int’l. ———. 1970. I clowns. Roma, Paris, Grünwald: Rai, ORTF, Bavaria Film, Compagnia Leona Cinematografica. ———. 1972. Roma. Roma, Paris: Ultra Film, Les Productions Artistes

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 À PROPOS DU LIBRO DEI SOGNI DE FEDERICO FELLINI 162

Associés. ———. 1973. Amarcord. Roma: F.C. Produzioni, P.E.C.F. ———. 1976. Il Casanova di Federico Fellini. Roma: PEA. ———. 1979. Prova d’orchestra. Roma: RAI-TV, Daimo Roma, Albatros Monaco ———. 1980. La città delle donne. Paris: Gaumont. ———. 1983. E la nave va. Roma, Paris: RAI, Vides Cinematografica, Gaumont. ———. 1987. Intervista. Ibrahim Moussa, Aljosha Productions, RAI- UNO. ———. 1990. La voce della luna. Roma: Mario e Vittorio Cecchi Gori. RAI-UNO. Morin, Gérald. 2013. Sur les traces de Fellini. Paris: Fox Pathé Europa.

Pour les illustrations 1 et 2, courtesy Fondation Fellini pour le cinéma, Sion. Pour les illustrations 3 à 11, courtesy Fondazione Fellini, Rimini. Pour l’illustration 12, courtesy Vides produzione/Rai Uno/Collection Christophel/ArenaPAL.

PHANÊS Vol 3 • 2020 Review of The Art of C.G. Jung. Edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Ulrich Hoerni, Thomas Fischer, Bettina Kaufmann. Translated from German by Paul David Young and Christopher John Murray. New York / London: W. W. Norton & Company, 2019. ISBN 978-0-393-25487-7. £60.00. USA $85. CAN. $112.00. 192 pp. Hardcopy

he successful publication of The Red Book (2009) has marked an important change in the history of C.G. Jung. Not only has this colossal book upended our understanding of Jung––expanding the horizon of scholarly research on Jung andT visual works––but it has also permanently shifted the perspective in Jung History. Indeed, after The Red Book, it has become impossible to conduct an investigation into depth psychology, without considering Jungʼs engagement with art. Even more importantly, Jungʼs own images and pictures have become increasingly relevant to Jung studies. The Art of C.G. Jung (2019), edited by the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, is the first extensive work to include both a collection of essays on Jung and art, and a gallery of archival images of Jungʼs own visual production. For this reason, The Art of C.G. Jung is bound to become required reading for present and future generations of Jung scholars. As the president of the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung, Daniel Niehus, writes in the foreword, Jungʼs artwork presents unique features, some of which display ʻsimilarities to the development in modern art of the early twentieth centuryʼ (7). Such features are all present in the emblematic illustrations from Liber Novus, chosen for the front and back covers of the book. The first essay of the collection, ʻImages from the Unconscious. An Introduction to the Visual Works of C.G. Jungʼ by Ulrich Hoerni, serves as an introduction for the rest of the book. As reported by Hoerni, the ʻfirst, albeit incomplete overview of [Jungʼs] creative workʼ happened during the biographical exhibition organised by the City of Zurich in the Helmhaus for the one hundredth anniversary of Jungʼs birthday, when paintings by Jung, facsimiles of Liber Novus and photographs of stone carvings were displayed (11). Even though one had to wait until 1993 for an inventory of Jungʼs creative work to be compiled, a certain interest in Jungʼs relationship with visual arts had already been spreading since the publication of Memories, Dreams, Reflections.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 163-167 BOOK REVIEWS 164

Interestingly, Hoerni identifies six different phases in Jungʼs visual works, which differ from each other chronologically, thematically and in terms of pictorial technique used. These are: drawings of fantasies; ʻlandscapesʼ; ʻdrawings of his future home in Küsnachtʼ; ʻinner imagesʼ; ʻitems specific to his home, family, and intimatesʼ; ʻthe Tower at Bollingenʼ (12-13). In the second essay of the collection, ʻC.G. Jung and Modern Artʼ, Thomas Fischer and Bettina Kaufmann explore Jungʼs relationship with modern art in detail. Moving away from Jungʼs controversial analogy between the work of Picasso and Joyce and the pictures of his schizophrenic patients, the authors focus on ʻthe possible sources of Jungʼs cultural education and its influence on his understanding of artʼ (20). Fischer and Kaufmann investigate Jungʼs interest in art, from his early days as a student in Basel to the end of his life. In particular, they dwell upon Jungʼs engagement with Symbolism, his interest in the ʻpsychological contentʼ of modern art (23), and his relationship with Zurich Surrealism and Dada. In response to the controversy around Jung and modern art, Fischer and Kaufmann conclude their essay by arguing that ʻJung did not engage superficially with modern art, but rather immersed himself in it on many levels during his lifetimeʼ (28). So, if, on the one hand, from a Jungian perspective ʻmodern art could only succeed if it reunited itself with contentʼ, on the other hand, Odilo Redon or Giovanni Segantiniʼs Symbolism ʻcorresponded more readily than modern art to Jungʼs idea of art as a psychological expression. Contemporary literature, art and painting fascinated Jung only insofar as he could perceive human experience in themʼ (ibid.). The third essay is ʻC.G. Jungʼs Concepts of Color in the Context of Modern Artʼ by Medea Hoch. Starting from Jungʼs association ʻcolour = feelingʼ (Jung [1932], CW 15:§213), and well aware of the absence of a ʻtrue color theoryʼ in Jungʼs thought (35), the author explores Jungʼs engagement with colour, both in his theoretical reflections and in his artistic production. As Hoch shows throughout her essay, these two aspects appear deeply intermingled. Motifs such as ʻheaven and earthʼ (36), the Middle Ages, and alchemy all bear witness to Jungʼs fascination with the symbolic component of colour on a theoretical level. At the same time,as the author shows, both the symbolic meaning of ʻheaven and earthʼ and medieval art are also reflected in Jungʼs visual works (i.e. in his early landscape paintings and Liber Novus, respectively). Moreover, as Hoch remarks, the Middle Ages had a certain fascination on abstract modernists and Dada artists whom Jung was in contact with, such as Sophie Taeuber- Arp and Hans Arp. To conclude, Hoch reports Jungʼs statement in his analytical psychology seminar, according to which ʻmodern art […]

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 163-167 BOOK REVIEWS 165

began first by dissolving the object, and then sought the basic things, the internal image back of the object––the eidolonʼ (Jung [1925]: 51), and observes that, whereas ʻthis process persisted for years for many artists of the avant-garde, Jung seems to have found his way to abstract forms and symbols quite naturally by means of Active Imagination (47). The core of the book, as one could expect, is occupied by the gallery section, in which reproductions of Jungʼs art are displayed and commented on. Jung’s visual oeuvre is reproduced according to the categorisation proposed by Hoerni in the first essay: the individual pieces are grouped into eighteen different sections, each of them followed by a detailed commentary. The sections are: ʻCastles, Towns, Battles Scenesʼ (1884-1928); ʻLandscapesʼ (1899-1905); ʻParis and Its Environsʼ (1902); ʻSeascapesʼ (1903-1915); ʻThe House in Küsnachtʼ (1906- 1925), ʻInner Images and The Red Bookʼ (1915), ʻAnimaʼ (1920-1925), ʻSystema Mundi Totiusʼ (1916-1925), ʻMandalasʼ (1920), ʻPhanêsʼ (1917-1920; spelling modified), ʻSpheric Visionsʼ (1919-1920), ʻStarsʼ (1921-1927), ʻCabiri and the Winged Snakeʼ (1915-1917), ʻPhilemonʼ (1919-1925), ʻAtmavictu and Other Figuresʼ (1919-1920), ʻSnakesʼ (1915-1920), ʻThe Stone at Bollingenʼ (1950), ʻMemorialsʼ (1955-1961). The last four essays of The Art of C.G. Jung focus on Liber Novus more specifically. The first one, ʻIntimations of the Self: Jungʼs Mandala Sketches for The Red Bookʼ, by Diane Finiello Zervas, dwells upon the evolution of Jungʼs mandala representations and conceptualisation. As Zervas remarks, although Jungʼs first fully fledged mandala drawings date back from 1917, he ʻbegan to make mandala-like forms in 1915ʼ (179) and ʻwas familiar with the core concept underlying mandala symbolism from his research for The Psychology of the Unconscious (1912)ʼ (182). Supporting her argument with a vast array of reproductions of sketches by Jung from August-September 1917, the author explores the long gestation leading to Jungʼs first mature representation of a mandala in the well-known Systema Mundi Totius (1917). The second essay, ʻMatter and Method in The Red Book: Selected Findingsʼ, by Jill Mellick, explores Jungʼs technical choices as well as innovations in the Red Book illustrations. From choosing the pigments, the binding medium, the carrier and the painting surface material, and supported by several reproductions of Jungʼs illustrations, Mellick observes similarities with, and differences from manuscript illuminators from the Middle Ages. Interestingly, as she remarks, Jung ʻwas constantly brokering an uneasy peace among intensity, transparency and opacity. To do this, he invented techniquesʼ (219). This essay gives a very detailed

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 163-167 BOOK REVIEWS 166

analysis of what Mellick defines, in her conclusive section, a ʻslow, demanding, taxing, irrevocable, risky, disciplined process in making The Red Bookʼ. As Mellick concludes, during this process, Jung became ʻnot only his own master and student but master of matter and methodʼ (230). ʻC.G Jung the Collectorʼ, by Thomas Fischer, reconstructs the history of Jungʼs collection in detail. Starting from Jungʼs childhood, Fischer explores Jungʼs fascination with collections, his coming ʻinto contact with antiquesʼ (234) and the origin of his own collection. As Fischer notes, ʻJungʼs apparently unmethodical collection of objects contrasts sharply with the systematic and passionate collection of Sigmund Freudʼ. As he points out, Jungʼs interest seems to be moved by ʻcomparative symbology and the systematic discussion of mythologyʼ (236). These aspects are also reflected in Jungʼs interest in ethnography. Fischer, too, dwells upon the recurrence of mandalas in Jungʼs collection, and by virtue of the diversity of such collection, concludes by stating that ʻJung cannot be called a collector in the usual senseʼ. Indeed, ʻviewing the collection in the larger context of his research interests makes clear that Jung collected primarily knowledgeʼ (239-241). The Art of C.G. Jung ends with ʻA Selection of Illuminated Initials in The Red Bookʼ, by Ulrich Hoerni, in which selected illuminated initials from Liber Primus and Liber Secundus are reproduced. A short commentary, preceding the reproduction of the illuminated initials, explains that ʻJung did not make personal comments on the meaning and motifs of the illuminated initials in The Red Bookʼ. Although some of them seem to ʻbe partly understood in reference to his other visual or literary worksʼ, given the ʻabsence of any finished information a final interpretation is ultimately impossibleʼ. As Hoerni ultimately notes, the illuminated illustrations are subject to stylistic variations whose application ʻroughly follows the stylistic development of classic European modern artʼ (246). The Art of C.G. Jung encompasses all aspects of Jungʼs relation to art: from his artistic reception and preferences, through his hermeneutical confrontation with Modernism, to his own artistic experimentation. All these aspects are researched and explored in detail, and offer the readers a wide, and insightful overview of an inescapable component of Jungʼs engagement with art, which is bound to become ever more relevant in the study of Jung. In spite of the richness of the subject and the meticulousness of the analysis, however, the entire book is written in a very clear style, which makes it accessible to both specialists and the general public. By virtue of this, we cannot but be grateful to the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung for granting us such

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 163-167 BOOK REVIEWS 167

an abundance of historical information and archival reproductions.

Gaia Domenici University College London [email protected]

REFERENCES Jung, Carl Gustav. [1925]. Analytical Psychology: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1925, ed. William McGuire. London: Routledge, 1990. ––––—. [1932]. Picasso. The Collected Works of C.G. Jung, vol. 15:§§204-214.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 163-167 Review of Craig E. Stephenson. Ages of Anxiety: Jung’s Types as Inspiration for Poetry, Music, and Dance. New Orleans, Louisiana, USA: Spring Journal Books, 2016. USA Amazon Paperback: $43.72. ISBN: 978-1935528753. 164 pp.

his is one of the most brilliant and original works by a Jungian analyst that I have read in the past decade: an astute and penetrating analysis and insightful extension of the meaning of W. H. Auden’s celebrated poem The Age of AnxietyT published in 1947, for which Auden won the Pulitzer Prize the following year, and which inspired Leonard Bernstein’s Symphony No. 2 for piano and Orchestra, a 1950 ballet by Jerome Robbins, a 1979 Hamburg Ballet production by John Neumeier, and 2014 ballet by Liam Scarlett; all of which the author examines for us via a refreshing look through the lens of an evolving post-Jungian theory of psychological types. What is most unique about this deft work of Jungian criticism is the author’s familiarity with Jung’s theory of types and its aim in producing a state of psychological wholeness, a poetic and clinical challenge for individuals undergoing a process of individuation, whether inside analysis, through art, or both, whereby new patterns of energy and expansions of consciousness become possible for a person. Jungian analyst Craig E. Stephenson takes us on an intimate journey through the life of the poet to a point of apotheosis on a night in 1933, when Auden was suddenly overcome by a feeling of ‘love for other people known as agape’ (16). I will not attempt to recount the author’s wonderful narration of the biography of W. H. Auden here, but get right into the heart of the book’s main matter: Auden’s profound love for humanity as experienced through all of his four functions as a gay man. Auden travelled with his comrade, Christopher Isherwood, from their home in England and ended up in New York, where they took up residence together on January 26, 1939. Seven months later, Germany invaded Poland and Auden began to churn out lines of poetry. The Age of Anxiety was Auden’s culminating war-poem. Auden began work on it in 1944 and finished his masterpiece in December 1946. In Chapter 2, ‘Auden’s Use of Jung’s Typology’, Stephenson explains that the poet began incorporating Jungian theory into his verse

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 168-170 BOOK REVIEWS 169

by the young age of twenty. Nineteen years later, Auden depicted, in a letter to John Layard, that his own ‘inferior function’ was ‘affectionately released when he fell in love with Chester Kallman in 1939’ (43). By this time in the 134-page tour de force, the reader has become aware of the fact that Auden was an introverted thinking type with extroverted auxiliary intuition; and ‘he really required solitude to feel like himself’ (44). After two years of living with Kallman, it was revealed to Auden that Kallman had been unfaithful. Nevertheless, Kallman had released a ‘vision of Eros’ in Auden as palpable and as lucid as his vision of agape in 1933, only this time the poet was gripped, for two years, by a profounder Eros, which then suddenly and affectively overcame him in a possession state, when in a rage, ‘Auden half-attempted to strangle Kallman in his sleep’ (48). Although the two men did not resume their sexual relations together, the comrades later became housemates again in 1953, and their friendship lasted until Auden’s death in 1973. Interestingly, in the midst of writing the Age of Anxiety, Auden entered into a sexual relationship with a woman named Rhoda Jaffe. Although ‘the affair did not change Auden’s sexual orientation’ the fact is that ‘Jaffe’s affection altered him deeply’ (52). It opened him up to his inferior function: extroverted feeling. For myself, the type analysis in this book is the best and most creative part of the whole volume and should be studied by every Jungian because of its analytic focus on the newest advances in type-theory and its practical usages, whether in analysis or art. In Chapter 3, ‘Creative Extrapolations: Bernstein―Robbins― Neumeier―Scarlett’, Bernstein is quoted as saying: ‘I regard Auden’s poem as one of the most shattering examples of virtuosity in the history of English poetry’ (79). Several pages later, Stephenson asks readers: ‘What moral imperative will move collective consciousness forward out of the anxiety of wartime, out of the symphony’s low point? Bernstein’s answer insightfully emphasises, even more than Auden’s, the repressed feminine and its associations in Western cultures with an undifferentiated feeling function’ (85). What gay men since Walt Whitman have been doing is the work of liberating the repressed Feminine and feeling function by placing Her in the forefront of the evolution of consciousness required of every individual. In Chapter 4, ‘Conclusions’ Stephenson makes an astounding statement that a central aim of Auden, with his creative uses of Jung’s theory of types, was to redeem the feminine to her rightful place in the Self’s hierarchy of integrity: ‘Psychologically, through this work, Auden finds his typological spine, extending down from his superior function to his inferior function’ (109). ‘As a solitary poet in exile, as an

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 168-170 BOOK REVIEWS 170

introverted English resident alien in New York’, Stephenson continues: ‘Auden imaginatively contradicted the tyranny of nationality with images of a new cosmology he devised himself’ (113). Finally: ‘Jung’s multi- voiced psychology of types corroborates Auden’s conviction about the relationship between anxiety and the dialectical nature of poetic truth’ (117). In the Appendix section, Stephenson makes creative uses of the Grimm’s fairy tale ‘Bearskin’ to show what is required of soldiers returning from active service and what they must suffer through in order to undergo the long and difficult transformations that are necessary if they are to reintegrate successfully into society. All in all, this book is essential reading for any reader interested in Auden, the Bernstein symphony, or three ballets that emerged from the poem’s virtuosity. But also, I feel, clinicians who are called to understand anxiety better and comprehend how Jungian analysis and Jung’s theory of types may aid a person in moving forwards towards higher levels of consciousness, inclusive of the shadow, the anima/animus, the bi-erotic, and ideally the Self, will find pragmatic wisdom for thoughtful reflection.

Steven Herrmann [email protected]

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 168-170 Review of C. G. Jung. Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process: Notes of C.G. Jung’s Seminars on Wolfgang Pauli’s Dreams. Edited by Suzanne Gieser. Princeton University Press, 2019. ISBN 978-0-691-18361-9. £34, $39.95. 349 pp.

iming to ‘make available the complete works of Jung’, the Philemon Foundation has in recent years overseen publication of a number of noteworthy volumes that have extended, enriched, and elucidated the self-penned ‘scientific’A writings of the author’s Collected Works. Such a ‘complete’ ambit entails texts deemed in some way personal as well as records of spoken-word events, a scope realised through such pre-Foundation publications as Jung’s memoir (Memories, Dreams, Reflections [1961]), correspondence (e.g., Letters [1973]), interviews (C.G. Jung Speaking [1977]), and lectures (e.g., The Zofingia Lectures [1983]). Working as stated successor to the Bollingen Foundation (publisher of the Collected Works) and in collaboration with the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung (successor to the Association of the Heirs of C.G. Jung), the Philemon Foundation has contributed a number of important volumes to these genres. Most notably, perhaps, are those texts associated with Jung’s famed ‘confrontation with the unconscious’ as captured in records of personal fantasies, visions, artwork and dreams, i.e., The Red Book (2009), and The Black Books (2020). Other relevant titles include History of Modern Psychology (2019), an installment of Jung’s lectures at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, and On Theology and Psychology (2020), a collection of his correspondence with the theologian, Adolf Keller. Serving as both lens and foil to the Collected Works, this ‘supplementary’ corpus includes, as well, Jung’s seminars, which range in subject matter from the philosophical (e.g., Nietzsche’s Zarathustra [1988]) to the clinical (e.g., Visions [1997]). Philemon Foundation titles include here Children’s Dreams (2008), Introduction to Jungian Psychology (2012), Dream Interpretation Ancient and Modern (2014), and, as a worthy addition to this collection, Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process (2019). The volume contains, in fact, two seminars given by Jung in America under the name, ‘Dreams Symbols of the Individuation Process’:

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 171-175 BOOK REVIEWS 172

the ‘Bailey Island seminar’, held off the Maine coast over six days in September, 1936, and the ‘New York seminar’, held in Manhattan over five days in October, 1937. Although engaging a wide variety of topics (as is typical in Jung’s seminars), both can be considered together as dwelling upon three distinct but interrelated themes. The first concerns Jung’s analysis of the dreams and fantasies of the physicist, Wolfgang Pauli (1900–1958), who, in 1932, approached the Swiss psychologist with what the volume editor, Suzanne Gieser, calls an ‘acute depression’. She traces Pauli’s ‘sense of personal crisis’ to the then recent death of his mother, failed marriage, and professional stasis. After a brief consultation with Pauli, Jung assigned his treatment to an associate, Erna Rosenbaum, with the idea of later evaluating the reported ‘unconscious content’ without the possibility of his directly influencing the case. In analysis (and later, correspondence) with Rosenbaum, Pauli recorded over three-hundred-and- fifty dreams and ‘visual impressions’, the interpretation of which forms the basis of the seminars. (Additional material was added after Jung took up the case.) Jung understands there the nature, relation, and sequencing of this material as a persuasive demonstration of the patterns and principles of his psychology, the second of the central motives in the seminars, particularly of that process called individuation, a gradual reconciling of an individual’s ego with patterns or ‘archetypes’ of the unconscious. The ongoing relation between the ego and unconscious is, furthermore, called the Self by Jung, and is expressed through what he identifies as ‘mandala symbolism’: an often fourfold figuration or progression that he finds repeating and, indeed, developing over the course of Pauli’s chronicled experiences. (Jung managed to cover only a small fraction of Pauli’s recorded entries, the New York seminar resuming where the Bailey Island seminar left off.) The Self is but one of a number of psychological concepts that emerges in Jung’s discussions of individuation and the Pauli case; others include the familiar Jungian notions of ‘shadow’, ‘anima’, and ‘mana experience’. Although Jung uses the bulk of the seminars to illuminate Pauli’s ‘content’ in view of the psychology of individuation, he makes efforts as well to tie the unconscious material to the literature and symbolism of Western alchemy, the third of the seminars’ salient themes. As revealed in the second seminar, the alchemical quest concerned, in Jung’s view, a ‘metaphorical gold’ that may be equated with the ‘precious substance’ of the Self; as a corollary of this finding, Jung compares Pauli’s ‘mandalas’ with those he discerns in alchemical texts. Together the 1936 and 1937 seminars stand as a noteworthy testament to Jung’s evolving theory of the psychology of individuation, its

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 171-175 BOOK REVIEWS 173

clinical demonstration, and the ways in which alchemy were fitted to both. Concerning theory, one may observe Jung’s development of this model of individuation as stemming not only from his professional research, but also his own Red Book ‘confrontation’, a process beginning in 1913. Several theoretical works appear to bear the fruit of these private experiences, each marking notable stages in the growth of the individuation model, e.g., ‘The Structure of the Unconscious’, a 1916 essay in which Jung sketched his concept of the ‘anima’; The Relations Between the I and the Unconscious, a 1928 expansion of ‘Structure’ that included discussion of ‘mana’ and the ‘mana-personality’; and ‘On the Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious’, a 1934 essay that introduced the ‘shadow’. The seminars not only develop the psychological propositions of Jung’s previous works. They weave them together through the elaboration of a case, a strategy in Jung’s oeuvre with precedents of its own. Considering the psychology of the individuation process, in particular, one may recall Jung’s use of the testimony and aesthetic output of Christiana Morgan for his ‘Visions’ seminar of 1930–1934 (anonymizing her identity, as he does with Pauli’s), or his use, in a 1933 essay entitled ‘On the Empirical Evidence of the Individuation Process’, of the clinical data and art of Kristine Mann, one of the organisers (along with Eleanor Bertine and Esther Harding) of the Bailey Island seminar. His submission, specifically, of the Pauli material as evidence of individuation has, itself, a conspicuous antecedent in his 1935 lecture and essay by the here familiar title: ‘Dream Symbols of the Individuation Process [Traumsymbole des Individuationsprozesses]’. (Notable as well is Jung’s mention of the case in his 1935 Tavistock lectures and—interposed among the New York seminar sessions—his 1937 Terry lectures.) In all of the above instances one may observe both the ways in which individuation ‘theory’ meets clinical ‘practice’, and the aspects in which this genre evolves. Finally, the Dream Symbols seminars offer a useful window onto Jung’s growing appreciation in the nineteen- thirties of the psychological importance of alchemy, placed as they are just after his first public presentations on the topic: the aforementioned ‘Dream Symbols’ lecture and 1936 follow-up lecture, ‘Notions of Redemption in Alchemy’, delivered in Ascona, Switzerland, just weeks before the Bailey Island event. Considered alongside Jung’s subsequent works on alchemical themes, the seminars can assist in the tracking of his alchemical insights from the initial publication of the ‘Dream Symbols’ and ‘Notions’ lectures as independent essays (respectively, in 1936 and 1937) to their eventual combination in Psychology and Alchemy (1944), Jung’s first book-length study of psycho-alchemical research.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 171-175 BOOK REVIEWS 174

As seen in previous volumes of the Philemon Series, Dream Symbols reflects both sensitive handling of the source material and scholarly thoroughness in contextualising Jung’s words. Marking the first widespread release of the seminars, the volume draws on the mimeographed typescript of the original ‘Notes Committee’ that compiled shorthand transcriptions by seminar attendees, aiming in the words of the committee ‘to keep the talks as nearly as possible as Dr. Jung delivered them’ (Jung himself did not review the notes). Gieser is well-placed as editor of Dream Symbols, having authored a rich history of Pauli particularly in light of his relationship to Jung (see The Innermost Kernel: Depth Psychology and Quantum Physics. Wolfgang Pauli’s Dialogue with C.G. Jung [2005]). Ample footnoting is provided throughout the text, including, where appropriate, helpful cross- references to the ‘Dream Symbols’ essay and Psychology and Alchemy. Gieser’s introduction furnishes illuminating background information on Pauli as well as fascinating sections on the various contexts of the seminars, including detailed remarks on event organisers and venues. (A number of Bailey Island photographs are also included.) Rounding out these discussions are sections on the topic of Jung and anti-Semitism (Pauli was of Jewish background) as well as on Jung’s alchemical research. A few comments on the latter may be offered in conclusion. First, the reader may be alerted to Gieser’s referencing of an alchemical text called Aurora Consurgens (see p. 36). As related in the ‘Dream Symbols’ essay and Psychology and Alchemy, Jung learned that the version of this work contained in the alchemical collection, Artis Auriferae (1593), where he first encountered it, had been bowdlerised by the volume editor, Conrad Waldkirch, a fact substantiated through his subsequent reading of missing sections of the Aurora in the so-called Codex Rhenoviensis (Rhenovacensis) 172, located in the Zurich Central Library. In Gieser’s account, however, the Aurora is mistakenly confused with the Artis, and the Codex Rhenoviensis with the Turba Philosophorum, another work in the Artis collection. Also, mention is made of Jung’s creation of a ‘lexicon of cross-references’ as an aid in his decipherment of alchemical texts (p. 37): language reflecting the description of Jung’s alchemical notebooks in his memoir, Memories, Dreams, Reflections. It’s worth clarifying, however, that these notebooks may be described as a ‘lexicon’ only insofar as they reflect a compendium of Jung’s organised notes on alchemy: one comprising a paginated, eight-volume collection of citations, extracts, and summaries of his readings brought together through the addition of an extensive index volume (Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung). Finally, Gieser suggests a revision of the timeline conventionally given

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 171-175 BOOK REVIEWS 175

in tracking Jung’s initial interest and research into alchemy, shifting emphasis away from the period in which he wrote his 1929 commentary in The Secret of the Golden Flower (highlighted in the Memories account of this chronology) and toward that in which he implemented the notebook method above. (Jung’s first notebook is dated ‘1/35’.) In reflection upon the matter, Gieser offers a number of nuanced considerations (see pp. 33–44), to which a few more can be added or stressed as qualifications of this revision. Although Jung’s ‘thorough study’ of alchemy may not have begun until the mid-thirties, as he suggested in the opening chapter of The Integration of the Personality (1939), his interest and ideation on the topic appear, indeed, to date to the Golden Flower period. The latter text contains passing but meaningful references to alchemy, both by Jung and by Richard Wilhelm, the volume’s editor and translator. Before its appearance, Jung had already proposed an early version of his (Self- related) psycho-alchemical thesis in the aforementioned 1928 book, The Relations Between the I and the Unconscious. That was the same year that Jung happened upon case material that, by his recollection in the second chapter of Integration, ‘led me to the study of alchemy’. Anonymised as ‘Miss X’, the patient was the same woman who, some eight years later, would occasion Jung’s visit to an island in Maine where she had spent summers as a child—where, as documented in Dream Symbols, he would speak of another case involving alchemy. That woman was Kristine Mann.

Christopher Wagner University College London

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 171-175 Review of Gaia Domenici. Jung’s Nietzsche: Zarathustra, The Red Book, and ‘Visionary Works’. With a Foreword by Sonu Shamdasani. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019. ISBN 978-3-030-17669-3 (HC) ISBN 978-3-030-17670-9 (eBook). 250 pp.

When the desert begins to bloom, it brings forth strange plants. You will consider yourself mad, and in a certain sense you will in fact be mad. To the extent that the Christianity of this time lacks madness, it lacks divine life. Take note of what the ancients taught us in images: madness is divine. C.G. Jung (Liber Novus:238)

Not that you overturned the idol: that you overturned the idolater in yourself, that was your courage. F. Nietzsche (DD:123)

aia Domenici’s Jung’s Nietzsche: Zarathustra, The Red Book, and ʻVisionaryʼ Works (Palgrave Macmillan, 2019) should be welcomed as a fresh and compelling reading within Nietzsche and Jung studies, for it has all theG qualities to compete with the best related literature. Domenici’s work, as pointed out by Sonu Shamdasani in the foreword to this book (‘Between Deserts’), successfully guides the reader through ‘the desert’ of Jung’s life-long confrontation with Nietzsche and ‘simultaneously forms a major contribution to the study of the reception of Nietzsche’s work and to Jung studies’ (ix). To this merit, renowned Nietzsche scholar Martin Liebscher adds that Domenici’s monograph answers the call for the ‘revision and revaluation’ of Jung’s philosophical reception, by placing ‘a novel and revealing emphasis on the role of Thus Spoke Zarathustra for Jung’s visions of Liber Novus’. Gaia Domenici, Honorary Research Fellow at the Institute for Advanced Studies, University College London, is a young philosopher and versatile scholar who has been publishing (in German, Italian, and English) on Nietzsche, Jung, and German philosophy in the most authoritative scientific journals. Jung’s Nietzsche is her first monograph and indeed provides the sum of her talented career thus far.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 176-179 BOOK REVIEWS 177

The content of the book revolves around Carl Gustav Jung’s complex engagement with the life and work of German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), on intellectual and psychological levels. The work is distinctively underpinned by robust historical research and strengthened by a meticulous structure which leaves aside no aspect of the question of ‘Jung’s Nietzsche’. However, the real signature trait of Domenici’s book resides in a hermeneutical intuition: the choice to adopt Jung’s category of ‘visionäre Art’ (‘visionary art’) as the Ariadne thread of a comparative analysis between Nietzsche’s and Jung’s own visionary experiences, coalesced into the book of visions known as Liber Novus (or Jung’s Red Book). Jung’s Nietzsche is divided into five chapters. The first section (‘Introduction’) historically traces Nietzsche’s presence in the development of Jung’s thinking, elucidating the problematic aspects of his psychological understanding of the German philosopher. The author places Liber Novus on centre stage and clearly explains her take as follows: ‘If it is true that Jung experienced Nietzsche as part of a particular tradition to which he himself felt to belong, then investigating Nietzsche’s presence in Liber Novus might make clearer his overall influence on Jung’s theories’ (22). Domenici’s methodology combines Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari’s historical- critical approach to Nietzsche, as transmitted by Giuliano Campioni and the Italian school, with Shamdasani’s historical approach to Jung (23). The second section (‘“Visionary” Works and Liber Novus’) explores the definition and characterisation of what the Swiss psychiatrist and founder of analytical psychology identified as a particular lineage of Western visionaries, illustrating its main protagonists and symbolical motifs. This part emphasises the close correlations between Jung’s conception of the visionary mode of creation and his own self-explorations, thus providing the reader with an innovative and thought-provoking point of observation concerning Liber Novus and Jung’s psychological ideas. The following two chapters of the book (‘Nietzsche in Liber Novus’ and ‘Liber Novus in Nietzsche: Jung’s Seminar on Zarathustra’) reveal the heart of Domenici’s research and indeed, the most challenging material of her work. The reader is first led on a captivating journey into Liber Novus via a close confrontation with Nietzsche’s ‘hidden’ and ‘explicit’ presence in its pages. Secondly, the reader learns about Jung’s later (mis)readings of Nietzsche, taking shape in the Seminar on Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (1934-1939) in the controversial terms of ‘inflation’, ‘intoxication’, and ‘failed individuation’ (16, 148). In both sections, Domenici’s writing stands out because of her original combination of historical and philosophical elements with

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 176-179 BOOK REVIEWS 178

the close analysis of mythological patterns common to both Jung and Nietzsche. A particularly engaging choice is the use of animal and natural symbolism (in both Liber Novus and the Zarathustra Seminar) as the main thread of discussion in these chapters as well as the valorisation of Jung’s juxtaposition of Zarathustra to Eastern spiritual texts. The final chapter of the work (‘Conclusion’), despite its title, is not just a conclusion. It is in fact, rather a section in itself that recapitulates what has been said beforehand, by tackling Jung’s confrontation with Nietzsche through its most delicate focal point: the ʻDeath of Godʼ and the overcoming of Western spiritual malady. By ‘visionary’ art, Jung essentially describes a particular form of artistic creation incorporating under its aesthetic layer a radical proximity to primordial psychic experiences: ‘Something strange that derives its existence from the hinterland of man’s mind, as if it had emerged from the abyss of prehuman ages, or from a superhuman world of contrasting light and darkness. It is a primordial experience which surpasses man’s understanding and to which in his weakness he may easily succumb’ (Jung, CW15:§141). He included in this category, among other examples, the second part of Goethe’s Faust, Jakob Böhme’s mystical accounts, Gustav Meyrink’s esoteric novels, William Blake’s illuminated works, Dante’s Commedia, and indeed, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra and Dionysian-Dithyrambs. He also defined the visionary work of the genius as characterised by the imperious emergence of autonomous psychic forces, exhibiting similar peculiarities to the fantasies of madness. Yet the visionary, unlike the insane, would be the one who found a way to navigate in the ‘dark and stormy waters’ of the ocean of the irrational, as Immanuel Kant imagined it (Kant 1919 [1781]:270), without being overwhelmed by its unseen currents. Jung’s vision of Nietzsche, in this respect, is never an easy one. It restlessly oscillates around this dilemma, triggered on the one hand by an extreme fascination for the German revolutionary thinker and on the other hand, by the disputable morbid interpretation emerging in the Seminar on Zarathustra. The value of Domenici’s contribution thus lies not only in shedding light on Jung’s tormented reflections on Nietzsche’s madness and genius, but especially in reconnecting them to the fundamental root of his disquiet: Liber Novus. In Jung’s first-hand visionary experiences, however, the task of ‘overcoming madness’ ultimately resolves around the mysterious cathartic action of love (revealed by the name itself of Philemon—from Greek ‘philéin’, ‘to love’—the inner guidance of Jung’s visions), exactly what the Swiss man thought Nietzsche’s power ‘inflation’ condemned him to lack above all. Where Jung’s Nietzsche is impeccable in its philosophical and historical richness, it partly neglects

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 176-179 BOOK REVIEWS 179

Eros, letting intellectual elements largely prevail over the experiential, visceral nature of Jung’s coming to terms with Nietzsche. Otherwise, Domenici’s work manages altogether to unravel the most difficult riddles, questions, and historical intricacies that characterise the exceptional encounter between two of the greatest minds of the turn of the last century. And what is more, her book inspires the reader to rethink, with a critical mind, Nietzsche’s historical and psychological importance for our time of transformation. A time in which, while the statues of old idols get pulled down, new ones await to be built anew, seemingly unaware of the lions roaring at their feet and the hammer knocking at their heart.

Tommaso A. Priviero University College London [email protected]

REFERENCES Jung, Carl Gustav. [1930/1950]. Psychology and Literature. Collected Works of C. G. Jung. vol. 15, §§133-162. ––––—. 2009. The Red Book: Liber Novus. Edited and Introduced by Sonu Shamdasani, Translated by Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Sonu Shamdasani. New York / London: W. W. Norton & Company. Kant, Immanuel. 1919 (1781). Collected Works (Sämtliche Werke), Critique of Pure Reason (Kritik der reinen Vernunft). Leipzig: Verlag Von Felix Meiner. Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1982 (1888). DD = Ditirambi di Dioniso e poesie postume (Dionysos - Dityhramben). Milan: Adelphi.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 176-179 Review of On Theology & Psychology. The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and Adolf Keller. Edited by Marianne Jehle-Wildberger. Translated by Heather McCartney with John Peck. Philemon Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2020 ISBN: 978-0-691-19877-4. 336 pp.

ince 2003, the Philemon Foundation has not only produced high standard scholarly editions of Jung’s hitherto unpublished primary texts such as the Liber Novus (2009), the ETH Lectures (2019ff.) or the Black Books (2020), but has alsoS been instrumental in the proper contextualisation of these works through the publication of Jung’s most important correspondences: The Jung-White Letters (2007), The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and Erich Neumann (2015) and now The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and Adolf Keller (2020). Whereas the letter exchange with Erich Neumann is closely linked thematically and biographically to Jung’s correspondence with James Kirsch (2011), the letters with reformed protestant minister Adolf Keller (1872-1963) have strong ties with the correspondence with the Catholic priest Victor White (1902-1960). Both clergymen were respected theologians in their field and offered Jung the opportunity to discuss Christian spirituality against the background of his psychological theory of individuation. However, whereas the contact with White only began in 1945, when the main pillars of Jung’s psychology stood already firm in the ground, the personal contact with Keller reaches all the way back to 1907—at that time based on the shared interest in Freud’s psychoanalysis. In contrast to his friend and fellow clergyman Oskar Pfister (1873-1956), Keller decided to stay with Jung after the schism within the psychoanalytic movement and the formation of an independent Swiss group. His wife, Tina Keller-Jenny, became a patient of Jung around 1915 in the midst of Jung’s psychological self-exploration minutely recorded in the Black Books. Thus, it is fair to say that the Kellers were close to the beating heart of the newly emerging psychology that is so intricately linked to Jung’s personal experience. During Jung’s subsequent attempts to find an expression for these visionary experiences within an existing conceptual framework the discussions and correspondences with theologians like Keller became of significant importance. Jung grew up in a pastor’s home and was well versed in the liturgy

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 180-183 BOOK REVIEWS 181

and teachings of the Swiss Reformed Church. His formative years fell into heyday of liberal theology with its historico-critical reading of the Holy Scriptures. Clergymen like Jung’s father experienced a weakening of their personal faith, something that his son did not forget to notice in his memoirs (MDR, p. 53). Keller experienced a similar unsettling encounter with liberal theology during his first semesters of studies in Basel. Later in Berlin he came across the teachings of Julius Kaftan, whose theology centred more around the practical concerns of the human spirit. As the editor of the correspondence, Marianne Jehle-Wildberger pointed out in her seminal study Adolf Keller. Ecumenist, World Citizen, Philanthropist (2013) that Keller belonged to the so-called ʻtheological meditators’ who tried to find common ground between the different fractions of the theological debate in German Protestantism. His mediating standpoint would also allow for a rather frictionless inclusion of Jung’s psychology into his personal theological understanding. This started to change when Keller came across Karl Barth’s The Epistle to the Romans, which, in its second edition of 1921, could be seen as the swan song of liberal theology. Once Keller started to embrace Barth’s dialectical theology, his position was more difficult to reconcile with Jung’s psychological image of God. Barth’s notion of God as ʻthe complete otherʼ seemed diametrically opposed to the personal and intimate experience of God that Jung had in mind when he cited the writings of Meister Eckhart and other mystics. Jung strongly rejected dialectical theology on the ground of its inability to speak to the human soul. It was therefore not surprising that Jung’s interest shifted towards more spiritually inclined Protestant circles in the 30s, and to Roman Catholicism in the 40s (Liebscher 2020). How the friendship between Jung and Keller was able to navigate these theoretical differences over a period of more than forty years is one of the fascinating aspects of this correspondence. The editor, Marianne Jehle- Wildberger, has meticulously carved out many more noteworthy facets of this letter exchange in her masterful introduction. This is a piece of original and authentic historical research and, as always in the Philemon Series, the result of many years of intense scholarly work. This correspondence together with the accompanying research by Jehle-Wildberger will set the tone of the debate on Jung’s understanding of religion for many years to come.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 180-183 BOOK REVIEWS 182

Martin Liebscher University College London [email protected]

REFERENCES Barth, Karl.[1922]. Der Römerbrief (Zweite Fassung), ed. by Cornelis van der Kool and Katja Tolstaja. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2010. Jehle-Wildberger, Marianne. 2013. Adolf Keller. Ecumenist, World Citizen, Philanthropist. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock; Cambridge: Lutterworth Press. Jung, Carl Gustav / Jaffé, Aniela. [1962]. Memories, Dreams, Reflections, tr. Clara and Richard Winston. New York:Vintage Books, 1989. ———. 2009. The Red Book. Liber Novus, edited by S. Shamdasani, translated from the German by M. Kyburz, J. Peck and S. Shamdasani. New York: Philemon Foundation and W.W. Norton & Co. ———. 2019. History of Modern Psychology. Lectures Delivered at the ETH Zurich. Volume 1, 1933-34, edited by Ernst Falzeder, translated by Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Ernst Falzeder. Philemon Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 2020. The Black Books, edited by Sonu Shamdasani, translated by Martin Liebscher, John Peck and Sonu Shamdasani. Philemon Series. New York: W.W. Norton & Co. ———& James Kirsch. 2011. The Jung-Kirsch Letters. The Correspondence of C.G. Jung and James Kirsch, ed. By Ann Conrad Lammers, tr. by Ursula Egli and Ann Conrad Lammers. London & New York: Routledge. ———& Erich Neumann. 2015. Analytical Psychology in Exile: The Correspondence of C. G. Jung and Erich Neumann, edited and introduced by Martin Liebscher, translated by Heather McCartney. Philemon Series. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———& Victor White. 2007. The Jung-White Letters, edited by Ann Conrad Lammers and Adrian Cunningham, with consulting editor Murray Stein. Philemon Series. London & New York: Routledge.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 180-183 BOOK REVIEWS 183

Liebscher, Martin. 2020. ‘C.G. Jung and the Berneuchen Movement: Meditation and Active Imagination in Jungian Psychotherapy and Protestant Spiritual Practice in the 1930s’. In Mererid Pew Davies and Sonu Shamdasani (eds.). Medical Humanity and Inhumanity in the German Speaking World. London: UCL Press:85-113.

PHANÊS Vol 3, 2020 • PP. 180-183