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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Sunday, 25 April 1920
1.00 a.m. (midnight-true time). I found myself suddenly wakeful, and a light appeared to me. I interpreted this as a call from the Gods; so I asked for a word, and Thelema gave me CCXX I, 15. I therefore made a Magick Working as follows—
Opus[1] III, B.S.H.N. [Ninette Shumway], p.v.n.[2] Opus A1. Elixir A1. Object: To bring the Scarlet Woman forth.
The day passed calmly—touch wood! Two very pleasant walks.
11.15 p.m. Opus IV, B.S.H.N., p.v.n. Opus good. Elixir very good. Object: the power to draw.
What part, if any, does the representation of natural objects play in Art? Appropriateness, none; for Memling calmly puts the Bruges Belfry in Pagan Rome, and no man cries 'Bats!'
Accuracy, none, or coloured photographs were all. Besides, we can all see the beauty of Nature, infinitely more varied and more brilliant than any painting—witness the daily glories of Sunset at Cefalu.
Then has the artist nothing to paint but his own soul? If so, any hieroglyphics will serve. They need not be intelligible; at least, we may say that they never are, save to initiates. All readily intelligible painting must be vulgar, save as it is passionate; for passion is the only general quality, and even that is lost on neuters, as in America. It seems as if the only word of a painter were then—'so-and-so looks like this to me'. But there is the direct appeal of decoration; he can create, saying, 'I want a tree like this-never mind whether it is more or less like the olive or pine you happen to know yourself'. He can create totally new forms, or get them by selection from the familiar. He can quintessentialize by modification—it's all very difficult, and I doubt whether I have anything clear in my mind, even with regard to my own aim. All I'm doing at present is to let my subconscious take shape; and I lack the power of expression.
1—[Crowley performs a magical sexual operation.] 2—[Per vas nefandum. By the unmentionable vessel, i.e. anal intercourse.]
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