Initiation and the Creative Artist

The sensory experience of the creative artist differs from that of the normal mortal not so much in what is "taken in" -- the raw data of the senses -- but how it is organized and associated; how meaning is derived.

In the earliest developmental stages of the human personality, feelings, those organic internal responses to stimuli and primitive cognitive structures --"this is good, that is bad, this is pleasurable, that is painful" -- are wedded and so conjoined; become the basis for the interpretation of more complex combinations of sensory stimuli.

A permissive or highly stimulating early environment, unfettered or undaunted exploration and discovery, a super-sensitive mechanism of organic response, a willful resistance to contradictory inputs imposed to invalidate what is felt, allows the development of matrices of perception that give somewhat different information than conventional sensory agreement; creates subjective conditions from which emerge emotions, thought, judgments, and behavior that are often unique, and at variance with convention. When such a personality, through training and experience develops and perfects the psychophysiological propensity to express, re-create, or channel such perceptions to a wider audience, then is the creative artist born.

This is not to say that what the artist perceives in his environment, in his world, is not "real" or that his modes of perception are abnormal. While he may be sensitive to that which most human beings cannot, dare not, or choose not to be aware of, his ways of perceiving are merely better developed than most, wider in their range and scope.

And this is what sets the artist apart, a dreamer of dreams, seer of visions, the sighted among the blind. He is an amphibious creature equally adapted, at home, in the deep turbulent waters of the unconscious as in the chaotically normal world of surface dwellers.

He is a linguist, fluent in the liquid languages of symbol and ritual, cultural codes and tribal hieroglyphics, the collective babble of the inchoate, the primordial; who must interpret such into an inadequate earthbound, derivative tongue, a primitive, transactional "pidgin", understandable to the average man but limited in concept, sound and symbol.

It is the lot (and the obsession) of the creative artist to "represent" in multitudinous media those perceptions, internal and external, that arrest his attention; to translate the subliminal and mundane, the divine and profane into finely crafted images, verse, prose, music and movement, vitalized by his point of view.

The artist must "make sense" out of his own experience, out of the unknowable; and he must make the known more knowable. He must focus all through the lens of his being, impress them, his ideas and images, upon the light-sensitive surface of mankind, that they may develop with clarity and sharpness; perceptible to others as he perceives them.

The whole of art from the standpoint of the artist is the experience of one initiation after another. Beginning with a spark of desire, which in time is fanned by encouragement or even antagonism into a consuming flame, an innate aptitude or an unseasoned talent, the artist-to-be is compelled to seek out instruction. He puts himself in a state of readiness, grasping for, absorbing any inspiration, any bit or piece of information, imitating any treatment or technique, however poorly understood, that might prove relevant or useful at some later time. He is a wound-up mainspring of motivation. As it often is in matters creative, when the pupil is ready, the master soon appears.

So begins the period of apprenticeship, when the young budding artist learns the tools of his craft, studies its lore, steeps himself in the traditions, signs, tokens, and passwords of his discipline. Under the guiding influence of his master, living or incorporeal, he learns the fundamentals of his art, sharpens his perceptions, improves his technique through countless exercises, endless hours of practice and reflection, until his senses, muscles, and instincts knit together into a well coordinated team, making him capable of executing any task, any demand put upon him.

Sometimes the young artist quickly outgrows the master, is compelled to seek out others more knowledgeable or those having mastered different or more radical approaches. He may even turn his back on his previous training, but he will never be able to completely erase what he has learned, or profoundly experienced. He will merely build upon these until the time comes when he needs no master, when his accumulative skills and heightened sensitivities will serve unerringly, faithfully, the dictates of his own creative urge. This is the first initiation, the Earth Initiation, the mastery of tool, medium and technique.

The artist having passed this grade may now concentrate, may now direct his efforts towards placing his art form before public scrutiny. What is important now is that his art communicates, that the creative impulses so carefully shaped and fashioned, the emotional effect, the visionary import worked so deliberately into his creations induce a sympathetic or empathetic reaction in his audience, resonates in their experimental makeup, closes a circuit between observer and object d'art such that distance and distinction are eliminated, that for an instant, there is no difference between the two.

It is equally important that he keeps himself a clear channel, a conscious mediumistic conduit for his Muse, however sporadic or prolific that inspiration may be. He must work now like never before. He cannot allow himself to stagnate, to stumble into the innumerable pitfalls which dot his creative path, nor can he allow himself to tarry too long when reaching a new creative plateau, but must seek out new peaks to scale; push himself to climb. The process of continuous production, the periodic or regular exposure to the public will bring a distinctive refinement to his work, a subtlety of nuance that will serve as his indisputable signature. The point at which public acceptance and demand, and a tenuous self-satisfaction converge marks the second initiation, the Air Initiation, where the artist's powers of creative self expression are confirmed and acknowledged.

Passing this initiatory degree, the artist is ready to be raised to the sublime degree of master. The preparation for this degree is an arduous one. It involves a perilous journey which the artist must embark upon alone. All he is allowed to take with him is his will as a weapon. Even his hard earned physical skills avail him nothing, for this journey will take him down into the very center of himself. His quest? To trace his creative stream to its fountainhead, to encounter there whatever he will and return, bringing with him the substance of his revelation which he will shape into art after his own fashion.

He will submit such to the judgment of the communion of creators and if found satisfactory in all respects, will add it to the vast treasure trove of human experience to be rightfully displayed a masterpiece (or masterpieces).

The first phase of this journey carries him into the Valley of Doubt. Here he must dwell for some time to evaluate the many events in his creative history. Here, all the past criticisms leveled at his work, at his skill and vision reecho. If before he had ignored them, had run away seeking to avoid them, he must face them now. He must answer each charge, pulling from his experience admissible evidence, proving beyond reasonable doubt, to himself, that the charges lack merit or that he has overcome his shortcomings, his deficits and turned them into strengths; that his technique is sure, acceptable by any standard; that his work is of high quality, innovative and perhaps, profound, as measured by the responses engendered. If he cannot do this, he can proceed no further, but must turn back. He must go back to work, improve himself, and wait for a more propitious time to begin again. If he succeeds, however, in defending himself against himself, the echoes will be silenced and he can pass, all the stronger, to face his next ordeal.

He will then pick up his stream, follow its meandering, staying close to its banks. To venture away therefrom is to become hopelessly lost. But by remaining steadfast, he will soon come to the Plain of Bias. Here, he will encounter a company of kindred spirits dwelling in a semipermanent encampment upon the plain. They will welcome him to their spartan provisions, invite him to stay for a time among them, to discourse with them on various philosophies, lofty ideals, and matters of great moment.

Because they are so hospitable, so receptive, he will consent to stay, even join them in their discourses. He will be amazed, at first, even flattered, at how they receive his every utterance or argument, reasoned or unreasoned, with rapt attention; how they will encourage him to exhaust his knowledge; and seek his judgment, informed or uninformed, on every subject, committing every point, every sentiment to memory. They will abandon their own positions in the heat of his temperamental rejoinder, swearing allegiance to his, restating his own views in different ways. Then they will adjourn to meet again. He will find at the next and subsequent gatherings that they will raise the same issues again, ask him to restate or clarify his position, but will tolerate no deviations, no revisions of his original points or sentiments. He will soon grow bored, exasperated, uneasy about such rigidity, such patent absolutism, and wish to resume his journey. He will find, though, that his attempts to leave will be met at first with persuasive forestalling, then a restricting of his movements, and finally, preventative detention -- they will not let him go.

If he agrees to stay and discuss with them, they will not (they say) confine him, but either way, he must remain among them. Unless, he can devise some way to escape. He has the means. A meticulous, and recurrent audit of his beliefs, values and attitudes will reduce their skewness, render them powerless to detain him. If he has the courage and integrity to perform this audit, to face his biases, he will be free to continue. If not, he will remain a prisoner.

The next phase of then journey, should he escape the Plain of Bias, is the Ordeal of Fear. As he follows the stream, he'll find that it progressively widens until at last, it becomes an enormously large body of water; that its banks rise suddenly, too sheer to climb. The only way to continue is to swim, for there are no boats or watercraft available; and no materials to fashion the same. If his courage fails, he will turn back, abandon the quest and have to live, a troubled spirit, with his failure. If he finds it within himself to persevere, he will plunge into those depths and swim.

But alas, there are other perils that await him. There is an undertow that will pull him beneath the surface. If he would but relax, he will find that he can breathe. If he panics, though, he will succumb to his fear. For these are not ordinary waters, but a tributary of the unconscious, and in its depths lurk everything the human mind has ever and will ever conceive.

Nearer the surface in the maelstrom of feelings, a myriad of multicultural water-dwelling monsters, not unlike the fabled Scylla and Charybdis stir up whirlpools of anger, vexation, annoyance, rage, envy, jealousy, contempt, lust, sadness, sloth, greed and fear; obscuring the deeper undercurrents of love, joy, contentment, and the gentler sentiments. All elements associated with these feelings dwell in close proximity here, some malevolent, others benign. If he would but know them, master his fear, they will have no power over him.

In the middle depths are found the cultural archetypes, the mythical titans, ancestral heroes and heroines, the anthropomorphic gods and goddesses, good and evil alike. If he would but know them, master his fear, they will have no power over him.

And in the deepest of the deep, the untampered history of man; his origin and destiny recorded on Akasha, called quanta by some, that scintillating substance more rarified than light, that intersects all planes and dimensions; that knows no beginning or end. If he would but study and know, master his fear, he will see that there is naught to ever fear again; and that knowing will take him up through the depths of the unconscious that he might break surface in the head waters, at the fountainhead of his creativity.

And having reached his goal, what awaits him there? What happens there is best kept sacrosanct between the artist and his Muse. Suffice it to say, the artist leaves that encounter transformed, with a full measure of esemplastic potency. And that transformation process is renewed, revitalized each time he returns to the source, for having passed the grade, the third or Water Initiation, he is now a master; he may come or go unobstructed and as pleases.

But what remains for the artist having achieved the master grade? Having courted and found favor in the communion of artistic and/or popular judgment, will he now languish, basking in his acclaim or trivialize his vision? He will as he so wills. But the progress is continuous and each peak achieved will reveal yet another plateau. There are, whispered among initiates in the upper grades, veiled references to a fourth initiation,the Fire Initiation, but of that, we dare not speak!

Joseph McNair
Miami Florida
1996/2004

NB: The writer excepts full responsibility for the depiction of the artist in this piece as singularly male. This creative work was the result of the writer's reflections upon his own development. He realizes that creativity is not gender specific. Let the reader who is offended take liberties in substituting the appropriate gender or gender neutral descriptors to make the experience of this work more satisfying. The writer apologizes for any discomfort caused.