Venus is in Pisces until March 21st, so I thought it would be a good time to post some of my mermaid and Stella Maris themed art.
This acrylic painting is called Pacific Puttanesque. I did it when living near the beach in White Rock, BC, back in 2010. The title refers to Puttanesca sauce which basically means ‘whore sauce’, either because it originated in a Naples bordello or because it’s fishy-smelling, due to the anchovies. Her half-shell looks more like a Venus’ flytrap than a scallop and doesn’t quite conceal her monsters. Victorian fantasy postcards provided inspiration. The frame is decorated with local shells, to resemble boards from an old, sunken boat. (NFS, private collection).
Pacific Puttanesque
This next, mixed media piece, called Stella Maris was sort of a pre-trial for the Star card in my Tarot deck, which ended up being something entirely different. It’s from 1999-2000. A friend of mine said after looking at it she had a dream about the Statue of Liberty. (Limited edition, digital prints are available).
Stella Maris
On the topic of Stella Maris, the star in Mari’s crown…
This miniature, beaded icon of her is a more recent creation, the last of a series of attempts to return the universal (or original pagan) meaning to Catholic imagery, which had ‘borrowed’ and adapted it. In Roman times, fish was eaten on Friday to honour Aphrodite-Venus, because it was thought to be an aphrodisiac. This was prior to her being covered with heavy robes.
The star itself might have been Venus or any guiding star for mariners, such as Polaris or Sirius.
Stella Maris
Similarly, we have La Virgin de la Caridad – Our Lady of Charity. One of the Seven Virtues, she is said to have appeared to rescue two Cuban boatmen and their slave, who were caught in a storm, sometime in the early 1600s. Hence she’s the patron saint of Cuba, but of course religion had to be practiced underground there for about four decades. Caridad is also paired with the more Venusian Oshun in Orisha religion, who rules sex, pleasure, marriage, the arts and money matters. (NFS, private collection).
Caridad Mini
Following the BP oil spill disaster, off the coast of Florida in 2010, I created a whole series of these Worst Cocktail Ever Florida Souvenirs, using some old cocktail mermaids, shells and driftwood. Self-explanatory. This is one of two that remain, and they are for sale.
Worst Cocktail Ever Souvenir
Sea Spirit was also painted in response to the BP spill. It takes inspiration from the Cape Dorset prints I loved, as a child. I thought about how awful it would be if such a spill were to occur in the pristine Arctic waters, for all the marine mammals there. Unfortunately, with the ice melting and more oil exploration going on, the likelihood is increasing. So this is a Sedna type Goddess who’s life-giving breasts are clogged with oil blobs. Acrylic on canvas. (NFS private collection).
Sea Spirit
But let’s end things on a cheerier note. This mixed-media icon is of Poseidon-Neptune’s partner, Amphitrite. One of those Victorian fantasy postcards I referred to in the beginning of the post. (NFS, private collection).
It’s a Full Moon in Virgo, trining Uranus in Taurus. The Moon holds memories and Uranus can bring up very distant ones, from past lifetimes, but also future or parallel lives, since Uranus is not bound by Saturn timelines. Taurus is romantic, loves ancestry and Virgo loves to record and categorize. So let’s gaze into the crystal, Full Moon ball for clues to each sign’s lunar history…
Moon in Aries
Winged Athena holding a Helmet
Moon of mythic heroes and epic, battle sagas.
Yours is an ancient soul lineage of indigenous warriors or Amazons, thus combat is in your blood and likely your mother’s.
Patrick Henry’s immortal slogan, “Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death” was first uttered on March 23, 1775, Aries season.
In Valhalla (Old Norse: Valhöll – “hall of the slain”), the Moon is always in Aries. Valkyries are your guardian angels.
You are nurtured by taking initiative, protecting life and being honored for your deeds.
Moon in Taurus
Crescent Moon, crescent horns of an Egyptian Bull
The Hathor Moon of milk and honey, that which the sacred cow jumped over. When people say ‘as old as the Moon’ they are talking about the Taurus Moon.
When the sensual, hoofed beauties of the first lunar calendars were painted in caves, to when the first Goddess temples were built, to the Golden Age of Egypt, you were there, worshiping and being worshiped. But your one, constant temple is nature itself.
You are nurtured by gentle breezes carrying the scent of Spring green, good food and sound sleeps.
Moon in Gemini
Medieval kinkiness
The Bardic Moon, the inconstant Moon of Romeo and Juliet and Courtly Love. By listening intently to the chattering of birds, you developed language, and later, writing, in order to describe the complexities of human emotion.
Like Cyrano, your words were often commissioned by enamored knights, to whom you generously offered delivery service. Your (in)famous dexterity was honed picking chastity belt locks by candlelight.
You are nurtured by your other half and by imagining things into being.
Moon in Cancer
Porcelain Crab
The Moon of the Great Mother Ocean, conductor of tidal movements and the cycles of rebirth.
Also the keeper of memories, hence Mnemosyne, mother of the 9 Muses.
Yours is a matriarchal cult that precedes temples, when Lucy walked the shores of Africa, nursing Monkey Jesus. You’ve never forgotten a single one of your infinite children (or loves) and hug them all to your breast, when full.
You are nurtured when cooking soul food for your tribe and by being in sync with the colour of your moods.
Moon in Leo
Roman Cybele
The Dramatic Moon, Cybele’s Moon.
In the Mountain Lion Mother’s temple, you took part in orgiastic rituals, as her half-wild attendants beat drums and danced, while ecstatic devotees offered their self-severed testicles.
You have never forgotten such scenes of devotion, and, while you don’t expect blood offerings these days, you’d still appreciate the occasional drum roll, upon entering a room, thank you very much.
You are nurtured by the self-confidence you feel when giving and receiving creative encouragement.
Moon in Virgo
Our Lady of Guadalupe
The Isis or Holy Mother Moon, Moon of witches, healers and midwives.
In the distant past, some of you were responsible for keeping records, including the cycles, names and many uses of plants, others, for libations and purification rituals. Later, in the age of ‘enlightenment’, the first group went on to study medicine, while the others chose a life of the cloth, continuing to serve the Holy Mother, under a different guise.
You still like pure food and being on both first and Latin name terms with the plants in your garden, where you are nurtured and grounded by making improvements…so your cats say.
The Manna Moon, and Moon of Temperance.
Your lineage introduced the concept of ‘fairness’ as well as the legalities around trade, marriage and other civilities, based on what was later understood as karma, or, in olde Egypt, the Weighing of Hearts.
Ever since your Greek days, you have been dividing the Gods and Goddesses of your psyche, assigning to each a chord or rhythm and trying different combinations, listening carefully for harmony and discord. You are nurtured by finding the harmonic ones, in all areas of life.
Moon in Scorpio
Hekate, by William Blake
Hekate’s Moon, Moon of sorcery and shamanic healing.
The casting and removal of hexes is in your soul lineage.
In your own illness, you flew to the land of the dead and back, thus were selected to preside over this transition – be it by returning there, entranced, to retrieve lost souls, preparing the dead, or guiding the deceased towards rebirth.
The elite of your tribe wrote the manuals (The Tibetan and Egyptian Books, for example), while those on the ground practiced midwifery or donned the anonymous, black hood. Residual, last words of the condemned still echo, occasionally, so these days you try to focus on the rebirth part.
Nocturnal animals are your familiars and deep, healing love, your nurturing tonic.
Moon in Sagittarius
Centaur Reading, by Odilon Redon
The Artemis-Diana Moon, former gypsy, nomad, traveler, with lifetimes of stories to draw from.
You are a semi-retired Sindbad who continues armchair time-traveling to communicate with yourself, in long ago and far away places.
Like Chiron, you are nurtured by nature, freedom and independence, as well as learning and seeking. “Don’t fence me in” is your motto, yet you ultimately seek that place to call home.
You forgive but you don’t forget, because why would you leave out any part your life’s novel ?
[My own lineage, Moon of my mother, both maternal grandparents, aunt and some of my cousins on her side, as well as my paternal grandfather and aunt!]
The Druid Moon or Pan Moon, the old, wise one, behind the scenes power mover, shaker, money maker, who knows the inner workings of the outer world and how to keep persona and personal separate.
Like your Stonehenge ancestors, you rarely, if ever, divulge your secrets, and distrust all sycophants or anyone offering a free lunch, for that matter.
Somewhere in your past, you were the scapegoat, and that fear still haunts your memory.
You are nurtured by the finer things in life and may have a dark or gallows sense of humour.
Moon in Aquarius
[artist?]The cosmic crystal (frozen fire) Moon, holding all the resonance codes of creation.
In your telepathic lineage, communication is equal between all lifeforms. You may be/have been one of the extra-terrestrials advancing our technology in preparation for the Aquarian Age.
You have emotions, it’s just that you find them too heavy for communicating through time and space and one can’t bend spoons with them. Also, because electricity travels faster and is more deadly in water, you are wary of electrocuting others should your emotions get the better of you.
You are nurtured by freeing minds.
The Mystic Moon, where imposed, grid time and other boundaries seem like drag nets.
Long ago, when the water dried up and left you in the middle of a desert, you began walking (or dancing) the mystical path, in bare feet and have never stopped.
Nurtured by that which glimmers, you understand we are living in an illusion, but most people don’t know how to and you can’t bear to watch them suffer. You are frequently late, since your clock is melting and crawling with ants, but the love you give more than makes up for it.
“The Greek word erēmia is in turn rooted in erēmos, meaning desolate. While a certain bleak emptiness can accompany unsought solitude, there is solace to be found even so. As Chesterton observed in that same essay of his: “It is in society that men quarrel with their friends; it is in solitude that they forgive them.” The word itself dates back to the 12th Century, and comes from the Greek word erēmia, meaning desert, a big clue to its religious roots. Paul of Thebes is widely regarded as the first hermit, fleeing anti-Christian persecution and a scheming relative to exist alone in the Egyptian desert from the age of 13 to his death in the year 314, aged 113.
“Look to other cultures, and you’ll find that even early Buddhism’s chaste female wanderers, for example, were exceptions to the rule. Like the Hermit card in Tarot decks, we picture them male. In literature, the woman who opts for isolation tends to be at best a figure of pity, at worst, something more malevolent.
“Finally, one of history’s rarer female hermit voices, the Christian mystic Julian of Norwich – who lived through the Black Death as a child and survived serious illness in adulthood – provides words to which we all, believers, agnostics and atheists alike, might cling: “All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.””
Stella Maris
