Artist Marie Brozova's recollections of the public drawing event in Prague – The Esoteric Fair
When they say "esoterica", you can imagine whatever you want, but I have in my mind the primal experience of mystery I remember from my early childhood. When I count my gifts, I value the most the gift of memory that enables me to go back to the world of my childhood, and recall the intensive first impressions from the blessed time, when my senses were sharp and eager, when my soul was clear as a crystal, before my sight became blurred by negative information. Every day provided an endless space for the adventure of discovering the world.
But at the bottom of the well of my memories there lies the feeling of safety, acceptance, perception of beauty and also the intensive, chilling vertiginous thought of mystery.
The gate to the world of mystery was opened for me by my grandpa, who was a very rational engineer architect, but he was always fascinated by everything what was not possible to weigh or measure. He was led by a boyish enthusiasm in discovering things. He told me many interesting stories about science, especially astronomy, and thanks to him I fell in love with the night star studded sky, which even now reminds me of infinity and also of the miracle of life which is scattered out there in the cold endless space. My grandpa also taught me to see the miracle in laws of nature, in human body, in the order that you can find in every little flower. I always thought that some people were foolish when they tried to find miracles in disorder of the physical laws. But still I think that some laws of nature have not been discovered yet. And dreaming about these unconfirmed laws lies in the large field of esoterica. The esoteric fair in Prague showground followed by multicultural festival Prague gates succeeded in gathering all kinds of esoteric activities some people are determined to believe under one roof and it was a very interesting show.
For my public drawing event I chose a mysterious memory of one of many stories my mom used to make up for me. Even in my generation it became widespread that children used to listen to fairy stories in records and cassettes more often than listening to their grandparent's tales. I was extremely lucky. All of my relatives were able to tell me original fairy stories. My granny started with well known fairy tales like Red Riding Hood or Gingerbread House but she always invented some funny details to make these stories more piquant. The hero of these stories was usually some rabbit, who was taken aback while answering the call of nature under a small spruce. Grandpa was always fully engaged in his architectonic vocation, but I really enjoyed his fables, because I could never guess the end. He was often falling asleep during his narrative, his work troubles mixing with fairy tales, and in these cases I really wondered what the squirrels were going to do with five wheelbarrows of slow-setting cement and two cubic meters of bricks. But above all I love my mom's fairy tales, because I was the hero in them and the stories began exactly at the moment when our daytime adventures ended. This way the story about the Feline palace sprang up. Only a few steps from our cottage there was a deep old forest of oaks and birches, but down on the ground there were low bushes of small spruces, the promise of the future spruce forest. Somewhere in the middle of the labyrinth of these bushes I imagined a feline palace that can be seen only after dusk. And when the darkness came, jet black night lightened only by the fireflies, my mom started to tell me that I am walking to the palace, accompanied by a good fairy, because you cannot trust cats. They can be smiling at you, but you know carnivore… We were let inside by a mysterious patrol-cat and we could walk through the lively palace. We visited most peculiar cat-knights, cat-wizards and cat-princesses and asked them where we would find the Cat-queen, who was a clairvoyant. When we found her at last, she was trying on a new dress made of moonlight and Milky Way. This queen knew the answers to all the questions of Universe. But I always fell asleep before I could ask her. And the answers came to me in my dreams.
Some people may think that there is nothing esoteric in fairy tales. These people often think that my drawings are only nice decorations of the children rooms. But when you permit yourself to cross the boundaries of common opinion, you will find out for yourself that most fairytales handle with the questions of life and death. The total experience of mankind was passed on in fairytales for thousands years. The purpose of telling stories was much more than lulling children to sleep. They were designed to prepare children for adult life in its full, not idealized form. This theme is represented in detail in a wonderful book by Clarissa Pinkola Estés Women Who Ran with the Wolves.
Just think of the Russian fairy-tale about Vassilisa the Beautiful, an orphan girl that was sent by her step-mother to the dark forest to visit a horrible witch Baba Yaga and bring home some fire, that had died away in their cottage. Vassilisa did not suspect that her step-mother only wanted to get rid of her. She set out for the journey obediently, although she was very scared, because she had heard before that Baba Yaga was infamous for eating people. But she took a wooden doll that advised her and helped her in many ways. It was a present from her deceased mother, and she felt more comfortable with it, even in the dark forest. Baba Yaga was a most peculiar witch. She did not eat Vassilisa, and what was more, she let her become her servant. Vassilisa had to pass many exams that she succeeded with the help of her wooden doll. In the end Baba Yaga gave her the promised fire. She got it in a horrible shape – inside a human skull with shining eyes that threw light on her way back home but also shone deep into the dark souls of her wicked step mother and her daughters. The skull burned them down to ashes and Vassilisa did not try to help them. She knew already why they had sent her to the forest.
When I read this fascinating Russian fairy tale and examined the impressive illustrations by Ivan Bilibin in the book The Feather of Finist the Falcon, I never thought that I would set out for a similar journey one day. When you overcome your deepest fears and go to the forest, because you trust your intuition in shape of a wooden doll, you will meet Baba Jaga, who represents the most powerful energies the world is made of. These energies stand high above the good and evil, they are uncompromising and incorruptible. When you pass all the gates of exams, you will get the horrible torch in the end, and you will see everything in its merciless light, that will not leave you any illusions. This is the most difficult exam on your way. If you fail, you will become a broken pessimist. If you pass though, you will not stop loving the things and people, you had loved before.
All the people who set out for this adventurous journey of the fairytale heroes know very well, that on such journey you experience fairytale moments. I was not surprised then when I spotted in the thousands of visitors during the esoteric fair, a face of a bearded old lady with a shrewd black little eyes. I recognized Baba Yaga immediately, as I always imagined her. I recognized her knowing smile. She told me with a strong Russian accent: "You are the only esoterica here. All the other things are – you know – business. But your drawings they are the real mystique." I was very glad to hear that. It is very important to be on good terms with Baba Yaga.
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