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Henri Rousseau's The Snake Charmer hangs in the Orsay Museum in Paris, and reflects the 19th century romanticizing of wilderness and nature (Phelan, 2005, par. 11) , which the civilized world began to realize was disappearing under the pressure of “development.” It was commissioned by Berthe, Comtesse de Delaunay, the mother of an artist friend of Rousseau's, who commissioned it in 1907 and told Rousseau of her experiences in India (Tate, 2005, Room Guide, par.2). In European art centers, particularly Paris, the “exotic” was appealing, whether the tribal art of African masks, the silk and paintings form the newly opened markets in Japan, or the building of the elaborate greenhouses and zoo of the Jardin du Plantes (Tate, 2005, Sources and Inspiration, par.3 ). Most of Rousseau's last works were jungle scenes, although most critics prefer his first jungle from 1891: Tiger in Tropical Rainstorm, (Surprise!) (Tate, 2005, par.2). The Snake Charmer brought Rousseau acclaim, restoring his place in the art world to some extent, and it may have been an influence on the Fauves artists and in the development of surrealism due to the naïve representations and dreamlike stylization of his images (“Henri Rousseau”, Criticism and Recognition, par. 3). During his lifetime, however, “Le Dounier” Rousseau was often ridiculed by the art establishment as a Sunday painter for his lack of classical training and his dreamlike images that did not reflect either classical photographic likeness nor impressionistic verve. Even today, some critics find him too naïve and unimaginative, but his work is excellent for this project.
My approach to this painting is as if it is my personal dream, which allows me to apply the concepts we have learned about the analysis of dreams to my own life and the process of transformation that has been continued by my studies at Pacifica. To decide who and where I am in this dream, I must find “a personal standpoint that can relativize these archetypal realms-not placing them in opposition, not identifying one as true and the other false, and without losing the personal sphere, the only space in which the deep transforming process can occur” (Hall, 2003, p. 115).
The overall theme of this dream is Trance Formation for Transformation. The setting of the dream is in the edge of the river and the edge of the jungle in the twilight of a full moon evening-a perfect place and time both for trance and for transformation. The space between the water and the land is the place of turtles and frogs, as well as nymphs and sylphs, beings of two natures, living in two worlds. This twilight riverbank in the jungle is a strip of dream consciousness between the collective unconscious of the water and the personal unconscious of the jungle. The river is the water that feeds both the daylight and the night aspects of the body and mind, which symbolizes the collective. Twilight and dawn are times for magic, for slipping between the worlds. That is where the Snake Charmer stands.
I have included a piece I wrote when I lived in the SC Low Country where all the rivers become swamps that eventually feed salt marshes that extend to the sea islands and finally meet the Atlantic:
Why is the darkness of the soul referred to as the desert: dry, baked, clean as bare picked bones? The inner darkness is like a Low Country swamp, almost refreshing at first, beautiful, mystical and cool after the fervent midday heat which scorches the skin, taxes the no-gill lungs with steaming air, and threatens to melt the very corpus calosum. But the swamp grows airless and dank, black water slithering knee deep like its reptile denizens among columns of cypress sitting zazen, lace curtains of Spanish moss that sign arcane messages with no breeze, insects whispering to less palpable beings that lurk just beyond peripheral vision and lust with the unquenchable desire of gods for human flesh.
“You won't see any snakes unless you look for them,” the old guide says, his face bland but his eyes smirking. “It's good fishing here.”
He cuts the trolling motor off, lets the johnboat drift in the barely perceptible current. Stillness born of many mini-sounds: susurrations of invisible movements, birds calling to mates and enemies, small splashes of water penetrated, presses in on eardrums while heartbeats push out. Sunlight patterns camouflage reality; a gator floats by like a log with eyes that meet yours.
And so it is, as the 'gators only maul one person or so a year, and the deer abound seeking shelter from the defoliated soybean fields. It's good fishing, this wetland of the soul, for it is primordial ooze. Not to be slashed and burned for some lightning insight, but floated through gently; the ego skimming inches of tannin-blackened unconscious, looking at all the snakes, who, after all, made the world more interesting than Eden. Why should the soul, made in the image of Deity, be less than fearsome? (Babb, 1980)
The Snake Charmer calls me to enter trance with her music to integrate some of my shadow material and other information from the unconscious, the flowing river and the verdant rain forest. The lush greens and hot turquoise sky ( actually lemon-lime in some reproductions) create a trance/dream landscape as she plays her magic flute, calling her familiars to her. One can hear the lapping of the water behind her and the soft noise of the jungle. The snakes seem playful, slithering around with the their heads high above the ground but not in a striking position, almost as if they are dancing. She is not yet dancing but only calling to her children of the night. My craft name is Snake Dancer, and her music calls me.
The flute is the traditional instrument for snake charming. The flute excites the spirit more than other instruments as playing it requires a great deal of breath. Pipe organs were installed in churches because their many flutes or pipes would be most spiritually stimulating. Deep breathing, such as that required for playing a flute, can initiate a trance state. Her music is both alluring and demanding approach, like the Pied Piper. I wonder how I will pay the piper, what must be released as I undergo transformation.
Birds are usually associated with air, mind, and spirit. Four birds appear in this image, a spoonbill, a parrot and two lovebirds. The parrot and lovebirds, beings of daylight, are almost hidden in the leaves upper right, with moonlight shining on their beaks. The love birds snuggle against each other, heart-shaped, watching the snake stretch down to the Charmer. All the leaves on that tree are heart-shaped as well, two lobes joined together into one shape, like lovers. The birds are like a co-joined animus and anima, perching above the earthy scene as the other denizens of the unconscious are drawn by the flute. They are watching, awake, to see what the dream-ego will do. They are not part of the drama, above it all, yet not so wrapped up in each other that they pay no attention to their surroundings.
The parrot perches on another branch, top center to the left of the love birds. According to Ted Andrews, (2001), the parrot represents solar and color healing (p. 118). Here the solar bird is in the darkness of the collective unconscious, and its colors are dimmed to brown and gray-its solar (rational, logical) powers are not effective here in the twilight. This could be a sign of unused talents or healing ability, or it might indicate that the rational approach finds nothing in the irrational dark. I see the parrot as the part of the mind that repeats all the things that one remembers-the pronouncements of parents and other authority figures-a feathered superego or Parent (as in Transactional Analysis). Often the sayings of the parrot are inaccurate memories or are interpreted differently from the intent of the authority, yet the parrot calls them out as it sees fit. If a constellation is triggered, I respond with emotion, whether appropriate or not. As I enter my transformation, I can change the constellation of the response to the parrot calls, altering the meaning or altering my response, rather than attempting to “forget” or repress the memory.
The spoonbill at the Snake Charmer's left is a water bird, its long legs adapted to staying grounded in the muck at the bottom while its head and body rise above the water. It has a bill for straining out its food from the river, much like a duck, rather than a sharp beak like a heron or egret. The spoonbill is related to the ibis, totem of Thoth-master of magic, writing, spells, and recordkeeping (Walker, 1988,.p. 403). Several websites list the wisdom of the spoonbill totem as “the ability to sweep obstacles out of ones way, connection to marshes and estuaries, protects young through communal living, understands shyness, use of wariness in defense, and silence” (Animal Spirits Homepage, 1997-2007, par. 3). Almost comical, the spoonbill is like a dream-ego when the Self is present, but with no grasp of the importance of the Self. Its orange/pink feathers contrast with the yellows, greens and blacks of the rest of the image, a being out of place, a juxtaposition that suggests lightheartedness as well as providing a light/warm color balance to the green analogue color scheme. At first I fear it is my ego-image, not the earthy black woman of music and wisdom, but just a gawky bird, clueless and out of place-how the Snake Charmer sees the waking ego, the day self. But the spoonbill seems innocent, in silent dialog with one of the snakes, unafraid, a reassurance that I may face my fears even though they are still unrevealed and dark.
I see many sexual symbols-which fits in with some of the imagery of my own dreams, that my sexual self is being ignored and needs some attention. In the foreground are three stands of snake grass, a yellow-edged spiky house plant that survives extreme neglect. They seem to be stretching up towards the moon and to the Snake Charmer, stiff and pointed, guarding the edge of the jungle. Just behind them are several flower bushes, like rhododendron, which offer some scent to the scene as well as points of light just in the edge of the jungle. Flowers are the sex organs of plants, and in this image they are rare and beautiful against the leaves. I would like to get past the spiky blades of the snake grass to the flowers, to enjoy their scent and sensibility.
Snakes can be seen both as phallic such as Ophion, the consort Eurynome made from the wind, and vagina, as Mehen the enveloper of the phallus of Ra, often seen as the provider of the sun's energy (Walker, 1988, p. 388). Andrews (2001) describes the snake bracelets and necklaces Shiva wears as signs of sexuality. Most often, though, in mythology, the snake is associated with goddesses: “Vinata was the mother of snakes and a symbol of water and the underworld” (Andrews, 2001, p. 360). Other associations from India include the Mother of all That Moves and Goddess of the Earth, sometimes called Sarparajni “Serpent Queen,” Ananta the Infinite, who envelops all the gods during their sleep between initiations, and Kundalini, the life force that sleeps in the pelvis. (Walker, 1988, p. 387) My desire to associate with Goddess energy calls me to these serpents, as they are symbols of female energies, not actual snakes. Rousseau's snakes are not like real snakes as much as the tails of cats who want to be petted. I hope they bring me the wisdom and renewal that they are thought to represent.
I have only handled one snake in my life, a reticulated python (marked yellow and white-very pretty), and I was surprised at the thinness and delicacy of its skin and its relative weight for its size-about as big around as my arm. It was cool, of course, not warm though we were standing in the summer sunshine waiting in line for a chance to hold it. It seemed more fragile than I would have expected, despite its strong muscles. It might not have felt so, if it had decided I was dangerous or appetizing! Snake energy calls to me despite my fear of snakes, especially touching them. This might indicate similar fears of touching myself.
The Snake Charmer stands in the moon light at the edge of the jungle and at the edge of the river. “Tongues of grass” lick her feet, and a green snake adorns her shoulders. Her black body is in shadow, but she is a mature woman, fully ripe with rounded hips and full breasts, powerful in her nakedness. Neither maiden, crone, nor mother figure, she is Marion Woodman's Virgin: One in Herself. Her eyes are clear and penetrating, with the unblinking stare of a snake. She is not entranced, but entrancing, charming, captivating, enthralling, fascinating, mesmerizing-all words for any woman's sex appeal which imply that she is a sorceress, a caster of spells, a witch. I want to take on some of that energy without constellating into the world of the desperate personals ads. Been there, done that.
Rather than deny that implication of feminine power, as I have done most of my life, I can embrace it and her, snakes and all. I see the snake charmer as a shadow figure that beckons me to join with her, perhaps my dream-ego as her serpent consort (my animus and my shadow?). Her direct gaze is disconcerting, but she is not threatening. According to Hall, (1983) “The relativization of the of the ego may also involve impressive dreams in which no ego action is necessary…. Initiation images may appear, indicating that the ego is to enter another stage of activity” (p. 105). Rousseau's image calls me into trance, to dream, to open my waking-ego to my Self, and to transform myself with the music and vitality awaiting me there.
References
Andrews, T.(2001) Animal speak. St Paul, MN: Llewellyn.
Animal Spirit Graphics® (1997-2007) Shamanism: working with animal spirits. Retrieved 8/6/2008 from http://www.geocities.com/~animalspirits/index68.html
Hall, J. A., MD (1983) Jungiandream interpretation: A handbook of theory and practice. Toronto: Inner City Books.
Henri Rousseau (2007) Wikipedia. Retrieved 8/6/2008 from http://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Henri_Rousseau
Phelan, J. (2006 September) Henri Rousseau: Jungles of Paris. Retrieved 8/6/2008 from http://www.artcritical.com/phelan/JPRousseau.htm
Walker, B. J.(1988) Women's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco
Tate Modern (2005) Henri Rousseau: Jungles in Paris. Tate Museum Website. Retrieved 8/6/2008 from http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/rousseau/
About the author Alice Nobel has been publishing posts, on the net and offline, for more than 7 years. This writer often writes on wellness and fitness, courting, weight loss and weight loss associated troubles. Read her latest content at her website. She is also a Lawyer, hypno therapist and author. Relax and watch her tension minimizing monthly course on video which often can be found at Asian Bride or on lots of popular sites on the net.
