 In the beginning,
every voyage starts with one step, or visual impulse, or precipitating
event. And so it was with my own personal Voyage, and adventure of painting
a picture by that name.
 It
all began in Berkeley, many years ago I was waiting to catch a train
to San Francisco A friend, passing by, greeted me; and just before I
caught the train he handed me a book which I had never seen before.
It was a dog-eared paperback, a copy of the Bhagavad-Gita, or Hindu
Song of God. Curious and interested, I began to read. And, as the train
started up, I realized that the book was taking me on a completely different
destination than to San Francisco!. Because this was a journey -- or
a true voyage of a different color! And my mind began to fill up with
forms of such a journey done into a painting. And all the thoughts I
had ever had on this subject came into the imagination of the inner
eye vividly. First, there was the ordinary "trip" to get to San Francisco.
And then there was the night-sea journey; then the fearsome journey
to the end of the night; then the impossible journey against all odds
to get to God knows where. And last, but not least, the summary Voyage
of no return. And I remembered reading about exactly such a journey
by a Sufi Saint, a l0th-century Egyptian called Mohammed Al-Niffari.
How did I get to al-Niffari, of all people? Only because
voyages are only begotten by other voyages. It's like an interlocking
puzzle of endless beginning and always new endings. Basically, first
I had to meet Aldous Huxley, the author-mentor of my youth. But before
I could do that I had to find the man who would truly open me to spiritual
life's beginning. And I couldn't do that until I found a book. Which
book, and where to find it? It was, as a matter of fact, lying on a
table at a friend's house. It was by one Jiddu Krishnamurti. (More about
my meetings with Aldous Huxley, Christopher Isherwood, and Krishnamurti
here, if you are curious.)
So when I got home I looked up the book and read again his visionary words:1
God made me behold the sea,
and I saw the ships sinking, and the planks floating; then the planks
too were submerged. And God said to me "Those who cast themselves into
the sea, take a risk." And He said further: "Those who voyage and take
no risk shall perish." And, further: "The surface of the sea is a gleam
that cannot be reached. And the bottom is a darkness impenetrable. And
between the two are great fishes, which are to be feared."
And, as if with a stylus of fire, these words were inscribed indelibly
on my painter's eye.
Then a few days later, while at work,
all these strands of thought and visual inspiration suddenly took form,
and with great urgency I made a detailed drawing of what had been presented
to my inner vision.
When this drawing was finished, I made it into a small painting. But,
unfortunately, soon afterward the painting was stolen, and I was unable
to retrieve it.
Unwittingly, however, the thief had
done me a great service. For then, with much painstaking work, I had
to completely recreate and substantially improve the lost painting.
But, as I proceeded, I quickly became very uncomfortable: For I realized
that if I pushed ahead with this project, I would be entering into completely
unfamiliar territory from which there could be no return, nor any guarantee
of safe arrival anywhere. Then I realized with an intuitive flash of
comprehension that painting, like any other truly worthwhile enterprise,
or a true Voyage, was exceedingly dangerous, a great risk -- a real
trip into the unknown, with no assurance of safe arrival at journey's
end, and no guarantee of any reward whatsoever; but then, I remembered
that old-time painters had done exactly that: Rather than serving the
ego, they painted for the greater glory of the Divine to "make something
beautiful for God." That would be their only Truth and their true reward.
 I
felt as if I had been given an archetypal vision to paint, and so I
seized the day, and set about bringing that vision into painted form.
But about that time, I discovered Adi
Da Samraj's The Knee of Listening", read it intensively,
and then wrote to the author, thanking Him "for a gift I could not yet
comprehend!" And soon got a letter back from the Ashram Manager saying:
Adi Da "has read your letter completely and He sends you His Blessing";
which moved me deeply. Still later, after I had been to Los Angeles
for an interview, I had the opportunity to meditate with Him. The sitting
was a revelation of His Compassion, and I saw His undefended purity,
and radiance of Being.
When I had finished the painting I
knew it was the best I had done or might do, and I must give it directly
to Him without delay. He received it most graciously, and, with many
jests (and much hilarious laughter!), asked me if I would put a wide-painted
frame around it and expand the very picture onto that frame. This being
done resulted in the current complete work, which is 78" x 56", done
in casein paint on a gesso panel.
More about a very special art
teacher, Henry Schaefer-Simmern, and the influence he had on the making
of The Voyage.
Now, the above is not an "explanation" of The
Voyage, but only a few relevant facts about its inspiration
and genesis. Because if a painting could ever be "explained," then it
need never be painted at all. And so I hope these notes will help you
to share the "content" of The Voyage
and make it yours, if you so wish -- though none of this can be done with
words or analysis, but simply by looking. And, before you look, please
remember the unalterable truth that: "The Spirit that dwells in the forms
speaks only to him, or to her, who stands speechless in wonder!"
And I hope that your Voyage (and perhaps
mine too!) will lead only to Light, beyond all categories of mere formal
beauty!
Sincerely,
Kerwin Whitnah
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