Sunday, September 12, 2010

Horned God Nudism: An Analysis. (NSFW)

I admit that my PSA from the other day was driven by no small amount of anguish and tears. I'm fairly open about my past as a Wiccan. (Some people pre-judge me for it. Just 'cause I haven't got a sweet mustache like Frater B...) But what I am not always open about is the fact that I came away from the experience with this realization:

Some people enjoy nudity for the wrong reasons. Mental-hospital reasons.

Not so much honey and spice. More like ointment and hair.

I'm not an expert in art psychology, but just take a look at the imagery we're confronted with when we search Google for "Cernunnos." It isn't my intention to denigrate the skill of these artists. They are talented, and clearly capable of intriguing and imaginative work. But for whatever reason, once this ghoul-fleshed puck, the Horned God is involved, the inevitable descent into madness begins. Just see for yourself.




Sasquatch turns his gaze upon the sleeping lovers. Notice the shaft of light gently caressing his dong.

I used to think that the Horned God - by which I mean this hoary amalgamation of mythological figures like Cernunnos, Pan, Lailoken, and Sasquatch - was reaffirming of human sexuality. When I was twelve. Now I listen to community "elders" giggle about anything vaguely penis-shaped and I think I must be in church again. Because as much as these people love The Wicker Man, absolutely all of them would sooner die than let the town floozy deflower their teenage sons. (Disclaimer: I am not the town floozy.) And as much as they might like to imagine their god looking upon their post-coital bliss with murder in his eyes, in real life they would run screaming from this wonky-armed psychopath of the forest. They would scream, and run in circles like plucked chickens.

But this is probably the least disturbing example of Horned God art I've come across. I mean, those humans in the grass look restful and contented. They're probably unaware of the Sasquatch looming behind them, drawn to the scene by the pheromones currently wafting on the air. The next one, however...



Here is an example of an artist who seemed to lose all higher consciousness and reason once he turned his brush to this subject. It seems to occur particularly in the case of exposed flesh. Here we have recognizable trees and horizon, pleasing use of color and space, light and dark contrast, good perspective, solemn atmosphere...and then Princess Battle Slut is squatting in the bushes, either hiding in fear or waiting to strike. Neither option seems good. Maybe she was just interrupted during her lady business. But I honestly don't know if it's her crotch or her butt that we're looking at here. Maybe we're not supposed to know. I just...I don't know. I don't. Know.



Typical fare. Though, somehow the total absence of hip bones and the deathly pallor of his legs speaks to a deeper problem in this artist's soul. "Pallid-flesh + dark body hair" seems to be a popular combination. Actually, he looks a bit like Russell Brand, doesn't he? Teased hair and everything. But you're not going to find any dandy Russell Brandies in your local circle, I can tell you that much. No, even the sexual escapades of that debauched Englishman would never bring him to such a place. To Summerisle, perhaps, but not to this Freudian landscape where people's legs and loins petrify in bogs. Death is everywhere here. Why is this "Lord of Life" sitting in grey silt? What is this conspicuous dead branch in the foreground? Why are there little red bows in his hair? The artist says she painted this near her home, but I'm frankly surprised that it wasn't painted in prison.


Here, the true face of the problem begins to reveal itself. This is no champion of sensuality, bucking off the chains of civilized society and getting in touch with his natural self. That right there is a Mountain Rapist, and don't you try to tell me any different. Hair stringy and unwashed, eyes rolling into the back of his head, mouth hanging open as he fantasizes about carrying off your uncle or your grandmother back to his meth cottage. This is that guy you remember from when you were eight, silently staring at you from the trees and stroking himself, loping away like a starving wolf once somebody's father came to yell at him. Suddenly the Sasquatch from the beginning doesn't look so innocent now, does it?


I hope that by now you've begun to see my point. I don't know about you, but you couldn't pay me enough money to dance in a circle around this guy.

 I could go on, but you may well be huddled in a fetal position by now. I don't know if this was in any way informative or helpful, but hopefully, you have a better understanding now of why I feel the way I do. I'm not a prude, honest. I'd just like to get through five minutes of a magical operation without someone drawing attention to their own genitals.

Thank you.

10 comments:

  1. Excellent post! I'm sure you're aware of things which occurred a few years ago within my own Pagan, mostly Wiccan, community. Like you, I don't mean to denigrate Wiccans at all, but what happened is along the lines of what you suggest here... the desire for sexual freedom and yet, the strange mental issues surrounding said freedoms. A year after those serious issues occurred, we attended another Beltane and what happened there was as you describe in your last paragraph. It's exactly the reason I no longer work within groups anymore.

    Really, I thank you for stating what I couldn't. You're not only an excellent artist, but a very good writer as well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Excellent post. Very perceptive and laugh out loud funny.

    ReplyDelete
  3. "Frankly I'm surprised that it wasn't painted in prison."

    Solid. Gold.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Always happy to bring the lulz.

    @Rose - It's good that you reminded me of those events, because that kind of consequence is very possible in an environment where people encourage sexual permissiveness to such an extreme. I know I've heard a couple of terrible rumors in this area, and if there is any chance that they are true, then the lack of outrage or concern is very disturbing. Part of the problem, in the case of Wiccans, is that apparently there is an attitude that Craft elders cannot and should not be held accountable to other Wiccans unless they've broken an oath. I don't know whether the Wiccans in your community were traditional or not, but at least the coven I was in had the conscience and the foresight to make an oath never to demand sexual favors of its initiates.

    Anyhow, thank you, soror. Keep up the good fight!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Fantastic! Hilarious! I love it all!

    And, I have #4--it's "The Devil" (I think) in the Legend Arthurian Tarot from Llewellyn. The whole deck isn't bad, but that particular card was ill-advised, at best.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Ah, I thought it looked familiar! I used to play around with that deck as a teenager. Cernunnos is rather out of place in there. I'm sure there's some Arthurian figure who would suit the role of that card perfectly well.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Speaking as a former trad Wiccan myself, this all rings so, so true. ::goes back to sit in a corner rocking and whimpering::

    ReplyDelete
  8. So an man with a hard on is a rapist?

    ReplyDelete