Artful Practices for Well-Being

12 / 18

*First Peril (Premier péril)* from *The 7 Spectral Perils (Les 7 périls spectraux)*

Dorothea Tanning. First Peril (Premier péril) from The 7 Spectral Perils (Les 7 périls spectraux). 1950

One from a portfolio of seven lithographs, composition: 14 3/8 × 10 13/16" (36.5 × 27.4 cm); sheet: 19 3/4 × 12 13/16" (50.2 × 32.5 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Purchase. © 2021 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn

Jackie Armstrong: Hi, I’m Jackie Armstrong, Associate Educator, Visitor Research and Experience, here at MoMA. Right now I invite you, wherever you are, to join me in spending some time with Dorothea Tanning's First Peril, from the 7 Spectral Perils, and come with me on a journey of visualizing your inner light. First Peril was created in 1950 and is one of seven from a portfolio of lithographs.

You may wonder with all the works in MoMA’s collection what drew me to this work. It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times as I’ve felt an undeniable connection to this work from the moment I first saw it and yet it took me a while to really understand why and articulate where that pull was coming from. To do that, I had to be open to looking back and to honoring the truths of my lived experiences.

When you first look at Tanning’s First Peril what do you notice? What pulls you in? What holds your attention? My gaze is drawn to the open book that is also a door, to the feminine-looking figure in the billowing gown with the long, wild hair, and to the candle she holds out in front of her. I look a bit longer, more carefully, and my eyes make new discoveries. I see her wrist poking through the door, as though its solid form was an illusion. As I linger on this figure, I think I see a creature draping over the top of her head, a long neck, a face, a pair of eyes. My brain wonders if my eyes are deceiving me, is this some kind of trick? I look away and look back and it’s still there, maybe a serpent or perhaps a long-necked bird of some kind. And her gown or robe, that at first seemed light and billowy, now appears heavy and roughly chiseled, as though rocks, trees, minerals, and other natural material came together to weave a cloak. The more attention I give to this work, the more shapeshifting I notice. What discoveries do you make as you linger on specific areas of this work? What associations enter into your thoughts as you take in this scene?

I go back to the open book, the door, and I feel this moment in my whole body, joining with this ethereal being, taking in the shadows and parting the murkiness with the glow of a candle flame. My heart races a little, expectantly, and I feel buoyed by a sense of wonder and awe. I feel a stirring within me, my feet want to go where she is going. I want to know what’s next and yet hesitate at the same time. What senses, beyond your vision, guide your looking? Do you feel any part of this image in your body? If you do, what do you notice and where do you notice it? It’s okay if you don’t and it’s okay if maybe what you feel is a bit uncomfortable. All of this is simply information, and we are taking this in together.

Growing up, from a small child and into my 20s, reading provided an escape from ongoing trauma. I’ve said before that many times I feel like reading saved me. On the pages of books, I momentarily forgot about my own world and I entered into realms of possibility. I found parts of myself in the descriptions of characters, parts of me that were stifled and not allowed to exist were found and embraced. Emotions that felt too threatening in the real world could be felt in books, and I could safely feel along with them. I could keep the secrets of books and they would keep mine. There was a sense of relatedness, of being seen, that I discovered in books. While reading, I felt limitless. I could go anywhere, be anyone, and do anything. Between the pages, I was wild, free, and complete. Entering into a book was pure magic and I held fast to that magic even when I closed the cover because I knew I could go back in. I knew there were more discoveries to be made and I knew I would not lose myself. And I think this is why Dorothea Tanning’s First Peril resonates so deeply with me, and when I look at this image I’m taken back in time but I also remain in the present. I can sense the grief and make space for it, and yet know I’m okay now. Dorothea Tanning said “art has always been a raft onto which we climb to save our sanity” and I feel that to my core. Do you relate to this? Have you ever felt like a work of art, a book, or any other art form saved you in some way, or offered something that felt healing or nurturing? How does that land in your body? Can you give yourself a moment if this stirs something inside you? Can you take in that you are not alone if you do relate to this?

When I look back at Tanning’s First Peril, taking in the intricacies of the work, I think about entering into a world with curiosity, paying attention to what’s going on inside myself, carefully but assuredly taking a step forward. I’m reminded of Tanning saying “keep your eye on your inner world” as I try every day to move in this world with more presence and full awareness, even at times when I feel unsteady and overwhelmed by it all. I close and open my eyes, and my focus shifts, shapes blur and then become sharper. Maybe you’d like to try closing and opening your eyes too, or softening your gaze and noticing what happens, inside you, around you, and as you look at this image?

And now I find myself wanting to zoom back in on the candle that seems vibrantly alive and alert in this work, so much so that I can almost feel the warmth of the flame and smell wax burning when I call upon all of my senses to explore this scene. As you continue looking at this work, imagine what it would look, feel, sound, and smell like if you stepped into this image? Imagine standing at the threshold of this book door, this otherworldly figure by your side. Notice with interest, not judgement, what sensations come up for you.

Just as in life, we don’t know what awaits us on those pages, where we may go, what we may face, but we know at this precise moment that we are here, about to take the next step. This image feels perilous, exciting, and promising all at once. Some of the writing may be in the dark, some of the inky words might be smudged, some stories might continue on for many chapters (or several books), and then there are the pages yet to be written. As you think about this moment, poised and ready to walk through the book door in this work, and where you are in your own life, I invite you to focus in again on the candle and to come with me on a guided journey to visualize the light within you, a light even more powerful than the one this figure holds.

If you find it hard to visualize a light within you or that imagery doesn’t resonate, it’s okay. Use your imagination to envision something that does feel right for you, or just come along for the ride, taking in what you wish. You may even feel like writing some notes or drawing during this part, or simply follow along in your mind’s eye. Let’s pause and take a deep breath together if that feels good to you right now.

Imagine a light inside of you that never extinguishes, but is something you can regulate as needed. This light is always with you, nourishing you the more you tend to it. Even when you think your light isn’t there, that it has burnt out or maybe never existed, it is there waiting and holding hope. The smallest, most mundane incantation and it willingly sparks, a testimony to your aliveness. This light can bring you comfort when needed, guide you, empower you, protect you, and just be with you throughout all of life’s ups and downs. This light can grow and shrink, ebb and flow, in response to your needs. Maybe right now you are picturing a flickering flame, a steady beam, or a roaring fire. Can you feel the temperature of your light? Does it warm you up from the inside out, feel cooling, or maybe neutral? Maybe a specific color comes to mind, something bright, vibrant, soft, or subtle. Your light might even have a mood or feeling state, perhaps invigorating, nourishing, centering, reassuring, or calming. Think about sounds you find soothing or comforting. Are there any sounds you might associate with your light? Maybe your light sounds like a soft rainfall, leaves rustling in the wind, the crackling of a fireplace, the purring of a cat, waves gently hitting a shoreline, or anything that feels right for you. Can you sense where your light is located in your body? Maybe it remains in one place, a constant fixture, or maybe it travels throughout your body, stretching from your head to your feet from your core to your fingertips. What shape or movement does your light have? Your light can fill you and fuel you, and it can also radiate outwards, as far as you wish to extend it. You can keep it inside, allowing it to help regulate you, emotionally and energetically. You can breathe into it, lean into it, and grow with it. You can allow the light to wrap around you, holding it as close or as far from you as you like. This light you have can be shared with others or kept to yourself, it can bring others closer or create necessary boundaries.

There are big and small, tangible and intangible things in life that can bring us comfort. We all have different experiences that shape our needs and ideas of comfort but one thing we all have to draw upon is our light. Allow yourself to feel the temperature, shape, and weight of your light, freely extending compassion and goodness to yourself while also radiating it outwards. Hold onto this and nurture it. Know that your light is with you always, and that you can call upon it anytime you want. Picture your light as we take one deep breath in and exhale together. Feel the solidness of your body, securely holding you in this moment.

Your body, whatever it has been through, whatever age, shape, or condition it’s in, is your body; a living, constantly transforming vessel that houses your light. As Dorothea Tanning wrote, “We are all living in human bodies, we go through life in this wonderful envelope. Why not acknowledge that and try to say something about it? So what I try to say about it is transformation.”

I hope the mystical elements of Dorothea Tanning’s First Peril and the energy of this visualization help you to feel and nourish the spark within you, and that you welcome any insights that arose for you during this. Thank you for joining me on this journey.