The Oval Lady: Six Surreal Stories
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THE OVAL LADY is a mystery. It is also a hieroglyphic. Leonora Carrington's art and writings express the mystery of being through occult parables whose true meaning becomes accessible to those who acquire initiation into the specific form of symbolism that her works display. These symbols are emblems deriving from a deep knowledge of Alchemy, Cabala, Magic, the Tarot, Witchcraft, and Mythology. Her literary works take place in a cosmic space-time continuum where beings from various dimensions meet for magical encounters in the vast domains of the planisphere. These parables are similar to alchemical allegories, for their symbols act like talismans and operate a transformation on the psyche of the reader.
Second Manifesto of Surrealism as stated by Andre Breton: "I ASK FOR THE PROFOUND, THE VERITABLE OCCULTATION OF SURREALISM."* THE OVAL LADY is the new woman, the Goddess resurrected. She is the Alchemist, the Priestess, the Druidess of Old. She is also the visionary Artist, who, through the magic of art, reveals to us the higher ART, that of MAGIC. * Breton, Andre. Manifestoes Of Surrealism. The University of Michigan Press. Ann Arbor, 1972. p. 178. * * * The Oval Lady Contents -
The Beloved The Royal Command Uncle Sam Carrington * * * WHO IS THE OVAL LADY? Foreword by Gloria Orenstein Contents - Prev/Next THE OVAL LADY is a mystery. It is also a hieroglyphic. Leonora Carrington's art and writings express the mystery of being through occult parables whose true meaning becomes accessible to those who acquire initiation into the specific form of symbolism that her works display. These symbols are emblems deriving from a deep knowledge of Alchemy, Cabala,
itself. A bat entered through the window, emitting little cries. I am terribly afraid of bats, I hid behind a chair, my teeth chattering. Scarcely was I on my knees when the beating of the wings was drowned out by a great commotion at my door. My mother entered, pale with rage. "We were coming to seat ourselves at the table," she said, "when the thing who was in your place rose and cried: 'I smell a little strong, eh? Well, as for me, I do not eat cake.' With these words she removed her face and
spoke. "One must flee from her," I thought, beginning to run towards the avenue. But the cypress tore its roots out of the earth throwing garbage around and began to follow me. "It's stronger than I am," I thought, and I stopped. The cypress did the same, shaking all its branches forcefully since obviously it had not run for a long time. "I accept," I said. And the cypress returned slowly to its hole. I found the queen stretched out in her huge bed. "I invite you to take a stroll through the
preferably) acts miraculously to alleviate a headache." "You'll not have any more colds," I thought. "But bronchitis is more complicated. My poor husband died in his last bronchitis attack, in spite of the fact that I knit him a jacket. But it didn't work out." The House of Beasts drew nearer each moment. I now heard the beasts agitating in their morning sleep. I had wanted to turn back, but I was frightened of the cypress tree, of all that it could do with its black and hairy branches. And