Photo Essay: Gods In the Landscape/ Thinking Kemetically In West Wendover

At first glance the town of West Wendover, Nevada may seem as far from the Nile Valley and its ancient deities as it is possible to be.  As one enters this small casino resort community, just straddling the border between Nevada and Utah, one encounters the 63-foot-tall neon majesty that is Wendover Will, the cigarette smoking cowboy acting as the town's official greeter and landmark.  This is unashamedly a gambling town, dominated by the casinos that are the primary draw for the tourists and travelers who pass through here.  One would hardly make a connection between the life of casino-hopping, presided over by a flamboyant neon cowboy, and the milleniums-old spiritual traditions of Egypt.

I have been a follower of the Gods of ancient Egypt for 35 years, and part of the everyday practice of my spirituals beliefs is to recognize the presence of the netjeru (Gods) not only in the experiences brought about by life itself, but also in the physical landscape in which I find myself at any given time.  This is very much in keeping with the Kemetic or ancient Egyptian perspective, which sees the natural world, its flora and fauna and geographic features, as the dwelling places of living gods.

The Nile Valley was heavy with natural features through which the powers of the Gods were omnipresent to the ancient Egyptians.  The artisans dwelling in the village of set-Ma'at (or Deir el Medina) recognized the limestone cliffs and hills skirting the Valley of the Queens as the residence of the protective cobra Goddess Meritsager, and it was into these cliffs that the devout village craftsmen cut shrines as places for the bestowal of prayers and offerings to the Goddess(1).  In fact, the pyramidal mountain dominating the region of western Waset (or Thebes) and its necropolis was believed to be a form of the Goddess Meritsager(2).  However, this same mountain was also honored as a place most sacred to the cow-goddess Hwt-Her (Hathor), who was hailed as the "Mistress of the Western Mountain" in Her role as receiver and mother of the blessed dead.  In this aspect, the Goddess was envisaged as a cow with lyriform horns emerging from the base of the sacred mountain of western Waset(3).

An important site sacred to the veneration of the God Amun was Gebel Barkal, below the fourth cataract of the Nile, where a number of sanctuaries were established as ritual centers.  Scholars have noted that the dominant mountainous sandstone feature of the region, which the ancient Egyptians called 'the pure mountain', resembles the royal cobra goddess wearing either the high white crown or the disk of the sun-god, depending on the direction from which this natural feature is viewed(4).  It is almost certain that the Egyptians looked upon this mountain as a dwelling place of divine power, a place where goddesses and gods watched over the landscape below, receiving the honor granted to them by the activities of the temple cults.

My point in citing these examples is that the ancient Egyptians experienced the power of their gods and religion not solely in the man made sanctuaries consecrated to them, but more importantly in the immediate natural environment surrounding them.  The river Nile, which flooded annually and sustained Egypt's farming economy, was seen as the efflux of a number of deities, not least of which was Hapy, the spiritual embodiment of the river itself.  The Egyptians saw that the netjeru or Gods were actually resident in the land of Egypt itself, and could be recognized as the benefactors of local environments in their aspect as niwty or "local god"(5).

For those of us honoring the netjeru today, there may appear to be a break between the Nilotic roots of our deities and their current role as the focal point of contemporary Kemeticism.  If the goddesses and gods of ancient Egypt were in a sense rooted to the physical landscape of Kemet (Egypt), then how do we access them in the current age, when we are no longer resident in the geographic and cultural conditions in which our gods originally operated?

My answer is quite simple:  do as the Ancestors did.  Wherever we are, wherever we live, we have the opportunity to take a look at our surroundings and see how the Gods operate through them.  If we accept that the netjeru are living gods, if we see them as having unbroken power and presence in our world, then we must also see that they are not limited to the geography of the Nile Valley proper, and may in fact be powerfully present in the mountains, rivers, valleys, rocks and vegetation of the earth entire.  If the Goddesses Hwt-Her or Meritsager, for example, were believed to be resident in the pyramidal western mountains of ancient Waset (Thebes), couldn't they also choose to be active in any western or pyramidal mountain?  Couldn't contemporary devotees of these goddesses establish forms of offering and reverence at local mountain regions that in their appearances echo those of ancient Egypt?  My answer to such questions throughout the years has been yes, and no more so than now, where my daily life is surrounded by a dramatic desert landscape that in many ways mimics that of ancient Egypt's natural sacred sites.

Above:  Immediately outside the main town of West Wendover stretches a series of pyramidal mountain peaks that to my Kemetic eyes greatly resemble the amber-colored mountains of western Thebes (ancient Waset) in Egypt, where the peak known today as Al-Qurn, "the horn", stands as a natural sentinel over the royal burial ground called the Valley of the Kings.  In ancient times this peak was sacred to the Goddesses Hwt-Her (Hathor) and Meritsager.  Today it is my practice to say prayers to these two most ancient goddesses whenever I visit this gathering of very pyramid-like peaks, which stand prominently outside the entrance to West Wendover.

Another view of the range of peaks flanking West Wendover

Above:  I have named this natural rock formation Sokar Rock, after the hawk or falcon-headed deity Sokar, a most ancient funerary deity associated with the Underworld and the necropolis region of western Waset (Thebes).  This gathering of rocks just beyond the town of West Wendover may certainly be recognized as a special power spot by those who look at this dramatic desert landscape through Kemetic eyes.

Above:  Natural miniature cave-like rock formations in the desert outside West Wendover call to mind the man made rock cut shrines the ancient artisans of set-Ma'at (or Deir el Medina) created for the God Ptah and Goddess Meritsager in the western mountains of Waset (Thebes).  These places have a very sacred feeling to me, and in my mind I see them as little shrines to the netjeru, where the Gods appear in order to receive my prayers and offerings in this holy desert landscape.


Notes 

1) Teeter, Emily.  Religion and Ritual in Ancient Egypt.  New York, NY, 2011, pp. 84-86.
2) Silverman, David P.  "Divinity and Deities in Ancient Egypt", in Religion in Ancient Egypt: Gods, Myths, and Personal Practice, edited by Byron E. Shafer.  Ithaca and London, 1991, pp. 38.
3) Wilkinson, Richard H.  The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt.  London,   2003, pp. 141.
4) Wilkinson, Richard H.  The Complete Temples of Ancient Egypt.  London, 2000, pp. 233.
5) Silverman, Ibid.  

Living In A World Of Symbols (Part Three) With Adriano Bulla

"Bast the Light-Bringer"/ An original Kemetic icon by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa/ Extra fine watercolor, 22 karat gold, Indian star ruby, lapis-lazuli, fire opal, Austrian crystal

An Intimate Interview with Iconographer & Poet

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

 

Adriano Bulla

As you know, Coleridge would have agreed with you that a way of knowing the Divine, possibly the best way we have as Humans, is through symbolism. I was admiring, for example, 'Bast the Light-Bringer', could you explain how it makes us closer to the Divine and its symbolism?

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Firstly, I think it's important for me to say that this icon, 'Bast the Light-Bringer', was conceived as a tribute to Lady Olivia Robertson, co-founder of The Fellowship of Isis, who passed away in 2013. She was an extraordinary spiritual teacher and mentor to me, and when I heard the news that she had passed, the first thought that struck me was an image of the Goddess Bast standing with Her golden Sistrum in front of the holy Ished Tree, the sacred Persea Tree. Lady Olivia had a special relationship with Bast, so I believe that's why I was tuning in to the Goddess at that time.

      As for how it makes us closer to the Divine...this icon, an icon in general, I'd have to answer that it depends on your perspective, whether or not you as a viewer are receptive to the kind of energy or messages being conveyed by the icon. One aspect of my work that I constantly need to address, an aspect that I think is unique to the type of iconography I'm working with, is the fact that the religious culture I'm honouring is believed by most people to be an extinct one.

     People see images of Egyptian deities, images of gods and goddesses and hieroglyphs, and they immediately think oh, Egyptian mythology. So, even though I'm classifying my work as iconography, as religious work, people on the whole aren't used to thinking of ancient Egyptian images as being sacred, as being objects of worship or devotion. For most people, ancient Egyptian religion is just that, ancient, past tense, something that belongs in the archaeological remnants of a dead pagan culture. People are saturated with images of Tutankhamun's treasures, mummies, pyramids, et cetera, and for them ancient Egypt is a curiosity, a historical fascination, not something that's the source of valid spiritual fulfilment. For the majority of people, the images of Egypt's deities are just so many idols, figments of a pagan past and its false gods.

      An important part of what I'm striving to do is revive the connection humankind once had with its original and ancient gods, prior to the advent of monotheism and rise of Christianity. Polytheism is far older than monotheism, and the gods of Egypt, the netjeru, were worshiped for much longer than monotheism has existed. A very significant part of the practice of Kemetic or ancient Egyptian polytheism, and the same can be said for other Near Eastern cultures, is the emphasis placed on cult images, images that allowed a portion of the deity's essence to remain active in the temple environment where humankind could have access to it.

     The same kinds of cult images, using the same kinds of iconography, remained virtually unchanged for thousands of years, and this means that those symbols, signs and deity forms had a tremendous build up of power in them. That power, that sacred blessing is still active in those forms today, and I see my job as an iconographer as that of accessing that power and blessing in the current era, where more and more people are rekindling the ancient polytheistic faiths of humankind...through reconstructionism and neo-paganism.

     So, what value does 'Bast the Light-Bringer' have? How can it make us closer to the Divine? If you can accept that the Gods still have something to say to humankind, if you can see the validity of an ancient religion remaining as an active and living presence in our world, then my icons can be a refuge and a source of empowerment. I believe that my icons send out a strong message declaring that the Gods have not abandoned us, nor have they lost a connection with the human soul. The Gods are living presences in creation, in our material world, and they speak to us, flirt with us, give signs to us, and continue to court our love and devotion. They bring us healing, love, the gift of life itself...they are ever-present and omnipresent.

      Something that continually emerges in my work is this struggle between order and chaos, light and dark, life and death that becomes a foundation for the symbolism at play in my icons. I always begin at this place where the netjer, the deity is rising up as a challenge to the forces at work against creation. I think this is something one finds very prevalent in Kemetic, ancient Egyptian iconography. The entire experiment in ancient Egypt was to preserve the cosmic order, Ma'at, that had been established at the time the world was created. All the temples were a stronghold for Ma'at, where the precise order of ritual actions was maintained as a form of spiritual technology to guard against asfet or chaos.

      In 'Bast the Light-Bringer' we see the Goddess standing in front of the Ished Tree at dawn. This was the time of day when, according to the solar mythos, the Sun-God Ra was reborn after His great nocturnal struggle against the serpent-demon Apep. It was at dawn when the blood of Apep was spilled across the eastern sky, which reads as the bright pink stain spreading through the heavens just at sunrise. We see the primary scenario in this mythos taking place at the base of the Ished Tree, where the Book of Coming Forth By Day, Pert-em-hru...the so-called 'Book of the Dead'...tells us that the Great Tomcat dispatches the demonic serpent with his knife. But we know that the Goddess Bast was also associated with the Great Tomcat, and that is the association I am making here. Instead of decapitating Apep with a knife, I have given the Tomcat long silver nails, which pin down and slice through the scales of the serpent.

       You will notice that the back foot of the Goddess is shown stamping on the tail of the serpent-demon, and this is, of course, the working of magic. Images in the Kemetic tradition are a form of shaping reality...like we discussed before, they are a means of actually changing or impacting the material world. They aren't just for decoration, and the symbols used in sacred images aren't just visual placeholders for ideas. Divine symbols hold a literal reality, a magical force that has its own independent life; so, if one depicts a chaotic being...one that has the ability to disrupt the creation process, one must disarm that image through the use of more powerful images or symbols against it. That's why one finds images of Apep or vipers or other noxious creatures pinned down with staves or knives.

      The Ished Tree is the sacred tree of Ra at Annu or Heliopolis, upon whose leaves were written the names and regnal years of all the kings of Egypt. In this instance, the presence of the Ished Tree embodies the proper order of life in the cosmos, the divine order or Ma'at established by Ra. In a manner of speaking it also represents the Sun-God Ra Himself, and that's indicated by the raised reliefs of some of the leaves, which I've gilded with 22 karat gold. Gold is always solar in my icons...it represents the skin of the Sun-God, His indestructible nature.

      It was important for me to include birds in this icon, not only as symbols of life, the power of life to overcome death, but also as symbols of the Sun-God, Whom Lady Bast is representing, of course. These are the menets, swallows or martins, which stand in the prow of the night barque of the Sun-God, and hail His triumphant progress against chaotic night. I have one swallow facing right, and one facing left; these being the directions of west and east respectively.

      The root of Bast's name is 'bas', an ointment jar, so it would appear that the name Bast or Bastet means something like 'She of the ointment jar'; that's just one interpretation, of course. I decided to place a 'bas' jar in the Ished Tree as a representation of Bast's name, but also as an embodiment of Her power, Her fiery nature, which has always been very solar...associated with Ra the Sun-God. Bast is called the 'Eye of Ra', and in this She takes upon Herself the role of the destructive or defensive power of Ra, which shoots out as fire to incinerate the enemies of the Sun-God. I have been very faithful here in my depiction of the hieroglyph for ointment jar, which is modeled after a specific type of alabaster jar with its tightly sealed lid.

       Bastet was originally a lioness goddess, in the pyramid age when She manifested as something quite ferocious and warlike. I wanted to include that defensive, protective character of Hers in this icon; however, I didn't want that to predominate, because the purpose of this icon is to summon the much more benign aspects of the Goddess, Her qualities as a compassionate source of motherly protection. I wanted to...oh, I guess you could say tone down...those wrathful characteristics She has as a lioness, as the Eye of Ra. I have the smaller scene of the Great Tomcat slaying Apep, which I felt was sufficient to honor the very ancient warlike character of Bast.

       Later on, Bast's association with the domestic cat came to dominate Her iconography, and because that's the aspect of Her that contemporary devotees gravitate towards, I felt guided from the beginning to depict Bast in Her cat form. Always pushing this icon in the solar direction, you'll notice that I gave the Goddess orange colored fur, which one sees in traditional Egyptian images of domestic cats. Of course, I used lapis lazuli in the stripes of Her headdress, which are solar, once again, linking Bast to the indestructible celestial qualities of Her father Ra.

      This intimate relationship with Ra is really spelled out in the presence of the large Wedjat Eye, its falcon talon reaching out to exchange a blessing of power with the Goddess. The Wedjat Eye is always used as a symbol of solar power, and in this instance it is used to denote the creative power of Ra as the originator of the cosmos.

       'Bast the Light-Bringer', I call Her, and we find in this icon two very significant sources of that light. Firstly, the Goddess carries upon Her head the disk or face of the Sun, which the Egyptians used as a determinative for the name of Ra. In fact, the name of Ra can be written with just the solar disk, having a dot in the center. Can one even miss the sumptuous Indian star ruby I've placed in the center?!

Detail of "Bast the Light-Bringer"/ An original Kemetic icon by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa/ Extra fine watercolor, 22 karat gold, Indian star ruby, lapis-lazuli, fire opal, Austrian crystal

       Surrounding the star ruby, and very nearly filling up the inside space of this sun disk, is a sixteen-petaled rosette representing the corolla of the sacred lotus flower, a symbol of the solar creation and of the rebirth of the Sun-God at dawn. We find this design usually associated with statues of the lioness goddess Sekhmet, where it covers the nipples of Her breasts. But it is the opinion of some scholars that this floral design is solar in nature, which means that it's association is with Ra and the reborn sun, so that is how I've used it in this icon. That meaning is further emphasized by the two rearing cobras that flank the sun disk, these, of course, being badges of the Sun-God's power to preserve the cosmic order and destroy His enemies. Their eyes are ruby-colored Austrian crystals.

       Foremost of Bast's symbols...really, the primary symbol used in all ancient images of the Goddess...is the Sistrum, which the Egyptians called sesheshet, a ceremonial rattle beloved of the Gods. This is a highly charged ritual object used first and foremost by chantresses or priestess singers in the temples. Bast seems to have been associated with music and the joy it brings from almost the beginning of Her iconography, and for me She is inseparable from it; so, in my icon of Her I've used the Sistrum as an embodiment of Her power and the light She brings. Notice how the multicolored flames shoot out from the base of the rattle and writhe upward. You can think of these also as music, as the sacred power being produced as the Goddess flicks Her wrist back and forth to create the rattling sound. This rush of energy and movement is indicated by the forward tilt of the Sistrum in Bast's hand, instead of standing upright. To emphasize this feeling of energetic movement, the flames jumping up from the Sistrum handle are shown dancing this way and that, curling up and twisting around in the sky.

       I have not forgotten two of the other important symbols of Bast, which are the menat necklace and the aegis or sacred shield. The menat is a heavily beaded ritual object closely associated with the adoration of goddesses such as Hathor and Bast, and was used as a form of rattle, having a counterweight at one end that was held by priestesses. Bast holds a menat decorated with golden lotus leaves and a sixteen-petaled rosette, in the center of which I have placed a ruby-colored Austrian crystal. Two strings of beads connect the menat to the aegis-shield, which has at its center a tiny image of Bast as a lioness, paying tribute to Her roots, as it were.

Adriano Bulla

There is a great attention to relief, thus actual three-dimensionality in your icons; does it have a specific meaning / function?

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Of course it has meaning...meaning and function! Everything I do in my icons, every single detail has both magical and symbolic meaning, and is intended to be read on multiple levels simultaneously.

       Firstly, three-dimensional quality brings the deity image up and out into our space, the viewer's space. Instead of being a flat image that stays down in its own space, my icons have characteristics that stand out, and because these are covered in real gold, they pick up the light and shine. This makes them more visible to the eye, which will then see them as aspects of the composition that ring with more importance. So, in 'Bast the Light-Bringer' one sees how the sun disk, cobras, Sistrum and ornaments of the Goddess stand out as gilded reliefs. The wings enfolding Her dress are also dominated by raised and gilded feather reliefs. These are some of the most significant elements in the composition, also the elements containing the most gold, which from a Kemetic sense, an iconographic sense, makes them the most magically active.

    Second, it's important to remember that my icons are not works of art in the contemporary sense of the word. They are sacred objects of magical import, containing the power of living gods. They are created for ritualistic purposes, for purposes of cult and temple. Once installed in a shrine, these icons are used as sacred tools to open up a window into the divine world, and they become lenses that place that world into clearer focus for worshipers.

      In these regards, my icons are intended to be viewed in the temple setting, as part of an active practice of worship, offering and ritual. This means that 'Bast the Light-Bringer' will be viewed most often by candle light, and through clouds of incense smoke. For that reason, the materials of real gold and iridescent pigments, and raised relief effects, become ways in which to heighten the experience of the deity's presence for the viewer. One sees this in Russian Orthodox and Byzantine icons, for example, where the heavy use of burnished gold and raised reliefs causes the sacred image to glow intensely, and to stand out as the light of candles passes over them.

Detail of "Sekhmet the Eye of Ra" before the application of Austrian crystals and lapis-lazuli. Extra fine watercolor and 22 karat gold by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

     Lastly, my icons, though not precisely the same materials and configuration as those created by the ancient Egyptians, are still a continuation of a very ancient tradition of representing the original gods of Egypt. In the temples, the images of the goddesses and gods placed on the walls were often cut into the stone as raised reliefs, bas-reliefs, which would have created subtle moving shadows and effects in the play of light over them. We have examples of bas-reliefs of deities on the outer walls of temples...the places common Egyptians had ready access to...and these images were sometimes inlaid with highly reflective materials in order to make them stand out in the sun, also to highlight their sacredness. That's precisely what I'm attempting to do in my own icons, to create deity images that pay homage to the old traditions these gods have always been a part of, to achieve the same kinds of effects the ancients used in their temple images. Though I need to make certain changes, and I'm not simply copying historical images verbatim, my intention is always to honour the spirit of the ancient Egyptian expression of the Sacred, and in that way honor the netjeru, the original gods of Egypt.

Detail of "Hwt-Her (Hathor) Mistress of the Sky", an icon in progress, showing the raised relief surfaces

 

Adriano Bulla

 
What would you say about the 'flatness' of Western Visual Arts for almost a millennium, till attention to relief was then re-discovered after the Impressionists?

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Well, I think this 'flatness', as you call it, has to do with the values or emphasis being placed on different forms of art by different societies at different times. Social values, in terms of what is artistically viable or in vogue, change from era to era. Just think about what Picasso did to modern art when he created Les Demoiselles d'Avingnon! With this one work Picasso invented Cubism, or gave Cubism its first dramatic face. He was signalling a new system of values for art, making a departure from what he and his contemporaries thought of as outdated values. It was a tremendous shift in paradigms. Art would never be the same again.

     In terms of relief...and I'm assuming you mean raised relief, bas-relief...I can only infer that perhaps it fell out of favor or prominence because the technique is so massively time consuming, which means great expense as well. It requires specialized training and intense skill to execute bas-reliefs correctly, effectively, so artists moved away from the sculptural and focused on the two-dimensional. Perhaps there was no longer a need for the monumental, the kind of extravagant display that such reliefs make on public buildings, say.

     Concerning my own work, I can say that the creation of the bas-relief components of my icons are the most demanding, time consuming aspect of the work. I use a liquid gesso to build up reliefs in layers, complete with designs or details, and these are then sealed with shellac and gilded. Each of my icons has multiple areas requiring bas-reliefs and gilding, and this is precisely why my icons take so much time to produce. If not for these aspects, my production each year could be doubled. But then again, my aim as an iconographer is not to crank out works of art as quickly as possible...to make quantity my focus. It is quality, not quantity, that governs my work ethic and creative values. Each icon demands a certain amount of hours to craft these jewel-like details, gilded reliefs and iridescent effects with delicate brushwork. I'm after the highest degree of refinement possible. In this way, I really consider myself a craftsman, instead of a painter.

 Adriano Bulla

What some people may not know is that in icons and in symbolism, direction is as important as position and the shape and color of what is depicted. Could you explain the importance of space and directions in 'Sekhmet the Eye of Ra'?
 

"Sekhmet the Eye of Ra"/ An original Kemetic icon by Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa/ Extra fine watercolor, 22 karat gold, lapis-lazuli, Austrian crystal

 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Both space and direction play significant roles in all my icons. In the Kemetic, ancient Egyptian approach, left corresponds to east while right corresponds to west; so, in 'Sekhmet the Eye of Ra' the Goddess sweeps in from the east as the representative of the Sun-God, and dispatches the serpent-demon Apep to the west. The west, the land where the sun sets and is swallowed up by the Sky Goddess Nuit, is symbolically the land of the dead. This is the direction where the dead are sent in order to undergo the metamorphosis from mortal to immortal. The west is always symbolic of the sacrifice the Sun-God makes each night when He is consumed by darkness, in order to be reborn in the east the following morning.

     'Sekhmet the Eye of Ra' presents us with one of the key episodes in the solar mythos. Sekhmet is known from a sacred drama as a enraged, fire breathing and bloodthirsty lioness, whose terror is unleashed on the enemies of the Sun-God. This is the episode being illustrated here; however, we also have a reference being made to the theology of Annu or Heliopolis which states that at dawn, Ra as the Great Tomcat slays the serpent-demon Apep with His knife beneath the sacred persea tree, the Ished. The Ished has not been included in my icon for space considerations, but the Goddess here is certainly the very embodiment of the destructive power of the Sun-God Ra, whose flaming Wedjat Eye She carries in the sun disk upon Her head.

      Sekhmet is here an embodiment of the eastern direction by virtue of Her being depicted facing the western or right side of the panel. She also carries the sun on Her head, which insinuates the rising sun. We know it's the rising sun, the eastern sun, because the time of day when Ra slays Apep beneath the Ished Tree is precisely at sunrise. So, here we have Sekhmet, the newly birthed eastern sun, sending Apep into the darkness of the west.

      But the entire thrust of this icon is obviously moving towards the right side of the panel, which of course is intentional for the reasons I just described. I've also 'cheated' on the proportions of Sekhmet's anatomy in order to make Her right side appear larger than the left. Her right leg is definitely longer and larger, which makes Her appear to be stepping out of the canvas in order to pin down the coils of the serpent. Her right arm is also grasping the golden lance with the fist pointed downward, which means toward the west...toward the direction of Apep's impending doom. Her downward turned arm directs the eye quite naturally to the direction of the action, which is the lance being thrust by the Goddess into the neck of the serpent-demon. A downward turned fist in this instance is also a magical reinforcement of the action of dispatching Apep and gaining control over his wild power. Sekhmet has him in hand, as it were.

     Quite subtly, the lower right wing follows the precise line of the golden lance, and appears to be bursting through the neck of Apep as well. The direction of the wing in this case too is magical. It's part of the anatomy of the Goddess crossing over into the space being held by the serpent-demon. Her power and authority is obviously overtaking his. Her magic is subduing him.

      The fire-capped lance of the Goddess is the largest directional line in the composition...it moves the eye very naturally downward, to the bottom right corner of the icon panel. This directional line, the golden lance or spear, embodies the destructive power of the Goddess, which of course is one of the primary magical themes of the icon. The Goddess has the power to control and destroy the ability of chaos as it attempts to undo the work of creation. She is the fire of the Sun-God's Wedjat Eye, His representative, His swift justice.

     There are some very subtle directional lines placed in this icon. In the lapis lazuli border at the top of the panel, I have painted a little lightning bolt like squiggle, which comes from the very outer edge of the icon and touches the fire shooting out from the pommel of the lance. This leads the eye, then, down right across the composition and to the bottom right corner of the panel, where the point of the spear juts out from the pierced neck of the serpent-demon Apep. Notice the tiny streams of blood pouring down from the lance tip, which meet one of the seven arrows piercing Apep's neck. This also has a stream of blood dripping down from its tip, which takes the eye down to the bottom of the panel. Both spear tip and arrowhead point at the rearing solar cobra with its angrily extended hood. This is the fire-spitting cobra that sits on the forehead of the Sun-God Ra, and magically, in this context, the presence of the cobra acts as a bookend to the body of the Goddess, closing in the negativity of the serpent Apep from both sides.

    Space, both positive and negative, are always important considerations in any icon. Of course, as a general rule of thumb, the deity must always take up the largest amount of space in the icon panel. My icons have two major space components or divisions. The first is what I call the 'outer panel'. This is the border framing in the deity. The two side portions of this outer panel are usually reserved for the hieroglyphs containing the names and epithets of the deity depicted. These are appropriately placed with each of the hieroglyphs facing inward towards the deity, as is natural in the traditional use of Egyptian hieroglyphs. Then we have what I call the 'deity house', that is to say, the inner panel where the deity's image is actually painted. Because each deity is different in terms of their anatomy and the size of their crowns or accoutrements, the amount of positive and negative space in each icon changes. In 'Sekhmet the Eye of Ra' my challenge was to fill the inner panel with as much of the Goddess as possible, to reinforce the sense of Her awesome power pouring out of the icon...shooting out like fire, in an almost uncontrollable manner.

     The large X created by the Goddess' wings was of central importance to me in the initial stages of production. It was the guiding factor as I blocked in the other proportions of Sekhmet...how these would consume space to the left and right of the panel. This consumption of space is very much magical; as in the more space taken up by the deity, the greater Her power and magic. The negative space in the top portion of the X created by the wings actually frames in Sekhmet's head, providing a pair of directional lines that move the eye into the body of the Goddess. The fiery energy of the Goddess moves downward with the directional lines provided by Her bottom pair of wings; however, this energy flares upward in the form of dancing and curling, spiralling flames. These flames take up almost all the negative space in the icon, and their direction leads the eye upward into the sky, the dwelling place of the great Eye of Ra.

     Everything I do in my icons serves a magical and symbolic purpose. Absolutely nothing in these sacred compositions is purely ornamental or arbitrary.

Living In A World Of Symbols (Part Two) With Adriano Bulla

An Intimate Interview with Iconographer & Poet

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Adriano Bulla

I was at the British Museum not long ago with a friend, and, admiring Egyptian Art, he pointed out, as many do, a certain 'lack of realism', yet we both agreed that they could paint realistically; very often, there are incredibly realistic details in Egyptian Art, thus, their choice to look at the world from a symbolic vantage point must have been conscious. You have been using symbolism in both your icons and your poems, so, no one better to give us an insight than you... What do you think we gain by looking at the world in a symbolic way?

Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Speaking of the British Museum, they happen to have in their Egyptian collection, as I'm sure you saw, wall-paintings from the tomb-chapel of Nebamun, which were painted during the 18th Dynasty, one of the high points of Egyptian art. There is one painting in particular that is exceptionally fine, that I think illustrates what you are saying very well. In this painting, Nebamun is shown hunting wild fowl in the marshes in his papyrus skiff, accompanied by his wife and son. But it is the flora and fauna of this painting that give it its real charm and character, but also demonstrate the sophisticated degree of realism that Egyptian draughtsmen and painters could achieve.

     There are different species of waterfowl present in the composition, and each is portrayed in what I feel is a very naturalistic style, with feather markings and colouration true to nature. Each bird seems very animated, behaving in a way you'd recognize in the natural world. There is this great clump of papyrus reeds supporting the community of birds, and the painters have added nests of eggs and even butterflies darting here and there...very delicate lines on the butterflies. There is also this fabulous orange and striped tomcat with very convincing whiskers, the fur marked out in such a way that really convinces the eye that this is modeled on a live cat! He's even biting into the splayed wings of a duck while his front and back paws claw into other birds he's captured. It's all highly realistic and energetic, not stiff or formal at all.

Wall painting from the tomb chapel of Nebamun, circa 1350 BCE

     So yes, I would agree with you that the Egyptians could, and did paint realistically, and that they made a conscious choice to depict subjects in a two-dimensional style that we today look upon as lacking realism. But then, we would have to examine the differences between the view and function of ancient Egyptian art and our own. We can't assume that the Egyptians had tastes and values matching our own, because they didn't...not at all.

    The Western view of art, since the time of the Italian Renaissance, is that two-dimensional painting in particular should mirror the world we see as true to life as possible, thus the obsession with mathematically correct perspective. This invention affected every aspect of the arts when it was introduced, and that very much included religious compositions and iconography. Mathematically correct perspective was a tool for creating religious compositions that actually looked real, completely true to life, regardless of the miracle or Biblical event being portrayed. Perspective was a way artists could convince the eye of the viewer that a two-dimensional space, on a flat panel or wall, was in fact a three-dimensional space filled with real people and real objects. The great exercise in painting during the Italian Renaissance, the quite revolutionary thing that happened, was a gradual and complete break from the flat, two-dimensional style of painting, which really characterizes compositions prior to the introduction of mathematically correct perspective.

     Ever since that time, the craft of painting, the entire culture and understanding of art, has been founded on the rock solid notion that paintings need to reproduce nature as it is...that things need to be depicted as the eye sees them. Of course, that is until Picasso, the Cubists and Expressionists rebelled against these notions and decided to paint things as the mind saw them, as the emotional state processed them, not according to the rules of perspective.

     The ancient Egyptians didn't have a word for art. They didn't have anything close to the concept of art that we have today. We think of art...as in modern art...as something that expresses the personality and personal experiences of the artist. A painter presents us with their individual reality, their own understanding or investigation into the things they see or feel. Looking at modern paintings, we can very often get a sense of who the artist is, how they are seeing their world, which is our world too. Modern art holds up a mirror in front of us, allowing us to see ourselves from the artist's point of view. There is so much of the artist in modern art. We know a Dali when we see one...a Picasso, a Koons, a Warhol. These artists conveyed so much of their personality through their styles that their works are inseparable from their character. It is almost as if the artist was as significant as the art work!

     In the case of ancient Egypt we are walking on unfamiliar territory. Except in a very few rare cases, we do not know the names of individual artists or the specific works they created. Egyptian artisans...as documented in tomb scenes that give us a window into important industries...worked in something akin to guilds, in workshops that show us a collaborative effort. Individual skills were pooled in order to produce sculpture, jewellery, funerary objects, temple furniture and the like. Egyptian craftsmen were bringing their skills together as joint specialists of particular crafts, not working in isolation.

     But there is a much more significant difference between ancient Egyptian art and our modern art. Egyptians weren't producing art as mere decoration, nor were they creating art as an expression of individual artists and how they experienced their life or world. There was no separation of "church" and state in ancient Egypt...no dividing line between religious experience and daily life. Every aspect of Egyptian culture was woven into the fabric of religious experience, and that very much included what we today call art.

    Egyptian art was governed by a fairly strict set of rules that standardized the depiction of people and objects. These standards reflected not how the Egyptians actually saw the world with their eyes, but how they felt the world needed to be seen...through the eyes of their religion, through the eyes of magic. The Egyptians took images very seriously, as actual embodiments of the force or power acting inside the things represented. Temple scenes, tomb scenes, statues and hieroglyphs; these were living things to the Egyptians, not merely inanimate decorations. In the Egyptian cosmological view, representations of any kind carry the seeds of creation in them, the vital power of the Gods that can be equally dangerous or creative. There are multiple examples of the ritual disarming of certain images in order to counter any threat they may contain; hieroglyphs of vipers or serpent-demons are slashed or depicted with sharps knives piercing them. Statues could be defaced, could have important features mutilated or hacked off in order to disarm their magical presence. This idea of a magical force being resident in images underpins the ancient Egyptian experience of religion, which was the cement that held their civilization together, that gave it cohesion for more than three-thousand years.

      When we look at ancient Egyptian images today, through our modern eyes that are influenced by how modern art tells us we should be seeing our world, there is this clash with reality that jumps out at us. People are shown in profile, for example, with the head in full profile, making the lines of nose, jaw and lips easily recognizable. But the eye is not shown in profile; it's shown as a full frontal view, planted on the side of the head with the eyebrow. We do not see the shoulders in profile, but rather as fully frontal, which is then combined with a profile view of the chest, with single breast or pectoral represented in profile. The arch of the back and musculature of buttocks and legs are also seen in profile views. Feet too are seen in profile, sometimes with all five toes visible. When first seen, such images can read very strangely from our modern artistic sensibilities.

"Reshpu Lord of Might"/ Acrylic and 22 karat gold by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

     But we need to understand that the Egyptians are not attempting to give us a literal view of reality. What they were doing was showing the most recognizable views of any given object all at the same time. In this way, in my mind, the Egyptians were the first Cubists, because they were showing multiple views of the same person or object fused together, as if being seen all at the same time. The Egyptians knew that a person's profile was one of the clearest ways of identifying distinguishing features; also, that shoulders seen head-on are much more impressive to the eye than in profile. They obviously wanted to place an emphasis on profile views of the curve in a person's back, and the pronouncement of buttocks and calves, which are strongest when seen from the side. But these are aesthetic considerations I've been talking about, which are only a fraction of the unwritten rules governing Egyptian art.

      First and foremost, we have to come back to religion...to magic...to this sense that images have a spiritual or supernatural function, if you will. Egyptian two-dimensional representations of people or deities, like those we see in temples or tombs, had a function on a magical level, not a responsibility to the visual or aesthetic. Think about it for a moment. Look at the incredible industry that went into cutting and decorating the monumental royal tombs in the Valley of the Kings; tombs like those of Horemheb and Seti I. These are amazing feats of engineering and artistry. In the 18th Dynasty tomb of King Horemheb, we find meter after meter of delicate bas-reliefs, raised ever so slightly from a background that had been cut away. But aside from the stonemasons and artisans, and then the priests and funeral cortege, who was ever going to see these masterpieces? Only the king and the gods in the Afterlife. These were magical images, crafted to live in a magical reality not dependent on being seen by mortal eyes.

       We just can't conceive of this today...conceive of any artist creating something so beautiful, so meaningful, and then locking it away forever in the darkness, with the intention that it will never be seen by human eyes again. But the ancient Egyptians did this as a significant part of their religious expression, because images were part of a spiritual technology by which resurrection and immortality were achieved. For the Egyptians, sacred images, those of the temple or tomb, had a magical life of their own. They were living and breathing components of a sacred language, a dialogue between the realm of the gods and the material world we inhabit. So, their purpose was not to look beautiful, to decorate, to express the feelings of this artist or that artist, but to achieve the aims of the magic of immortality.

      The Egyptians lived through a world view in which symbols weren't just things that stood for ideas, but were, in fact, energetic embodiments of the very things they represented. We see the stars and stripes of the American flag, say, but we don't actually see the flag as being America. It is a reminder. It tells a story. It represents ideals and beliefs and the values of the American way of life. But we know that America is not a flag. The flag stands for the idea of America. But the ancient Egyptians did not see symbols in this way. For them, the image of a thing could, through a process of magic, become the thing so represented. The wax model of a national enemy, for example, could become the embodiment of your enemy's power or abilities, and to cut it up, to destroy it, was to actually and physically render your enemy impotent. So, the Egyptian experience of symbols or images was on quite a literal level, instead of on the subconscious, imaginary or figurative level.

     I'm not sure that it's possible or relevant for most people in the modern world to experience symbols from the ancient Egyptian vantage. I do, because I am a Kemetic, a practitioner of the ancient Egyptian religion, and for me it comes very naturally to see my world and my gods through the lens of Egyptian symbols. I'm an iconographer working primarily within the Kemetic tradition of cult images, so I too see the symbols and images I create as the living embodiments of active divine principles. I don't see symbols...hieroglyphs, gods...as being static or inanimate. To me they are alive, dynamic, possessing a life, a power of their own, aside from also being objects of worship and devotion.

Stela of Ptah Who Hears Prayers/ Polymer clay, marble, 22 karat gold, Sterling silver, lapis, Austrian crystal by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

     But I can try to answer this question in terms that can mean something to non-Kemetics, too. I think of symbols, especially religious symbols, as the language of the Soul. Symbols can help us access our intuitive faculties, our deepest processes of engaging with our world on a level other than mere physicality. We are all too familiar with the physical, sensual qualities of our life...you know, the qualities that our five physical senses can reveal to us. However, we also know that there is an inner world within the outer shell. There is an emotional world, if you will, a world that isn't dictated by our physical senses, but rather through what we might call our mental faculties, our cerebral self. Symbols can stand for these intellectual faculties, can help us to approach them and work with them. Symbols can evoke powerful emotions, perhaps emotions we weren't dealing with on a conscious level, and a particular symbol can trigger something in our subconscious that suddenly gives us clarity or a means of approaching that hidden part of our mind. So, in this way, I think that symbols can be highly effective in giving us a vantage point of the invisible, the ephemeral, even.

Adriano Bulla

The colour blue... If I think at both Christian icons and Egyptian Art, and compare them to yours, your use of blue is far more extensive than in both. I don't think it's just because lapis lazuli is cheaper, so why do you use so much blue?
 
Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

(Laughs) Hmmm...I'm not sure where you heard lapis lazuli is cheaper, because it's actually a very expensive pigment to produce, due to the extensive extraction and preparation process, and it's one of the most expensive pigments I purchase for my work. That's precisely why I use so much of it in my icons, because of its preciousness, because of the sacrifices involved in its preparation and purchase.

"Pazuzu the Divine Exorcist"/ Extra fine watercolor, 22 karat gold, lapis-lazuli, amethyst by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

      A true icon or cult image, looking at this from a Kemetic or ancient Egyptian point of view, must be composed, either wholly or in part, from precious materials. It is these precious materials...the gold, lapis lazuli, turquoise, that link the deity image directly to the spiritual power of the netjer, the god; because natural stones and minerals, their coloration and appearance when struck by light, are the embodiments of specific aspects of the sacred world. The ancients recognized certain stones as being the repositories of divine power, therefore, it was important that cult images, images being used to drawn down the Gods and their vitality, were made from or adorned with the most potent materials available. For the Egyptians, these were gold, silver, lapis lazuli, carnelian, turquoise, and other gemstones too. An emphasis was placed on materials and refined craftsmanship, because something being handed over to a deity to use as a body simply must be crafted from the most superior resources known.

      Lapis lazuli was one of the most valued stones used by the ancient Egyptians for jewellery and inlays, but strangely enough, they appear not to have used it as a pigment in wall painting. The most common form of blue is what's known today as Egyptian blue or frit, a synthetic composition of calcium oxide, copper carbonate, and alkali. But the use of this form of blue was still used in painted compositions to indicate the much more precious lapis lazuli, say, on the blue beaded patterns of ornamental necklaces or on cuff bracelets and jewellery that would naturally have been inlaid with lapis lazuli. In painting something to look like lapis, it would magically become lapis, in the language of magical symbolism always in play within Egyptian art work.

      Blue for the Egyptians always embodied the divine, the gods and the celestial, and the primeval flood from which all things came into being. Of course, it was used extensively to indicate the sky or something whose origins were celestial, but also as a statement of divinity. Images of deities painted blue...blue faces and hands or with bodies entirely blue, were used as representations of the celestial, the primeval origin of the gods. For example, the God Amun was often depicted with blue skin to indicate His presence as the hidden and aerial qualities in creation, and also because He was one of the primeval creator gods who existed in the flood or abyss of the beginning.

      The God Ra was said to have skin of gold and hair of lapis lazuli, and these solar connotations were always omnipresent in the Egyptian use of lapis lazuli, and especially in the combined use of gold and lapis. The solid gold mask of Tutankhamun is a famous example of this. The nemes headdress has stripes composed of blue glass in imitation of lapis lazuli, representing the hair of the Sun-God, but the cosmetic markings around the eyes, and the eyebrows, are real lapis lazuli. The use of these precious materials was, once again, part of a spiritual technology, a magical process by which the dead king would become the newly born and indestructible Sun-God.

      You're quite right, my use of blue, of lapis lazuli in particular, is extensive. But I'm striving to accomplish the same type of sacred construction the Egyptians engaged in as a way of attracting the power of the Gods. That kind of power was always seen by the Egyptians in the use of special colours, colours that were believed to be close to the Gods. It so goes, then, that if you want to create an object to attract the Gods, to attract their power or blessing, one must use the very materials the Gods are attracted to. Any ceremonial, ritual object produced by the ancient Egyptians would have made use of gold, lapis lazuli and other semi-precious stones as a way to not only honour the sacredness of the Gods, but also to attract the Gods, to draw them forth into our world. So, my extensive use of lapis lazuli serves all of these ideals. It honours the Gods through the use of a precious natural substance that is very close to them. It attracts the spiritual power of the Gods, their magic and blessing. But it also serves symbolic purposes on top of those.

      In 'Sekhmet the Eye of Ra' I used a large quantity of lapis...oh, I'd say probably the most lapis I've used in any icon to date...because the Goddess Sekhmet is the daughter of the Sun-God, Ra, and all solar images, images that reference Ra or draw on His mythos, inevitably include lapis lazuli, the sacred stone associated most with the Sun-God. As the Eye of Ra, the visible and terrible power of Ra, Sekhmet too is associated with gold and lapis lazuli. The tips of the feathers in Sekhmet's wings are all lapis...the falcon feathers in Her corset and kilt are lapis, together with the sporran and belt. All the jewellery has lapis in it, and of course the Wedjat Eye in the flaming sun on top of Her head. There's lapis all over the place in that icon! The border framing the inner panel of the Goddess is composed entirely of lapis lazuli, with some real amethyst mixed in to arrive at the darker shades.

"Sekhmet the Eye of Ra"/ An original Kemetic icon by master iconographer Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa/ Extra fine watercolor, 22 karat gold, lapis-lazuli, Austrian crystal