Metamorphosis

In Surrealist art, the process of metamorphosis has often been conveyed through unfamiliar fluid forms or by juxtaposing disparate elements to craft unusual, irrational, and dream-like creations. Through the fabrication of concrete objects, artists were able to unveil the undercurrents of their minds, metamorphosing dreams into materiality while maintaining a tension between the tangible and magical. Artists who toyed with this theme included Leonora Carrington (b.1917; d.2011) in Dancer, 2008; Alberto Giacometti (b.1902; d.1966) in Woman with Her Throat Cut, 1932 (cast 1940), and more recently, Christina Bothwell in works such as Going with the Flow, 2022. 

These creations often touch on our constant state of flux and transformation while depicting scenes/visions that exist outside of our perceptual reality.

Throughout my studies, I have discovered a fascination with artists who touch on the metaphysical dimensions of our lived reality. In This is not a Pipe: Art and the Surreal, a course taught at Parsons, our final project was to draw a parallel between a contemporary artist and a surrealist theme. I revisited Christina Bothwell, whose creations resonate with the curious, dreamlike nature of metamorphosis found in Surrealist art. She crafts luminous multi-media sculptures often composed of glass, clay, and paint, which speak of a fantastical existence. Bothwell is especially drawn to the cycle of birth, death, and regeneration. She captures what lies below the surface, expressing the qualities of that which remain unseen. By lifting the veil of materiality, she shares with the world the wonders she feels in her daily existence. She describes her subjects––babies, animals, and children––as “embodying the essence of vulnerability,” which is the underlying theme of her work. In other words, Bothwell explores our implicit innocence in the inescapable process of transformation. 

Last spring, I reached out to Bothwell to tell her about this project and its theme of metamorphosis, which she interprets as “something to let go of and grieve the loss of, and a new cycle to marvel over.” 

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Bothwell recalled experiencing the feeling of life awakening within her during her pregnancy, which gave her “the impression of being a link in an endless chain of other mothers throughout time.” She had three miscarriages before she gave birth to her first daughter, Sophie, and felt ecstatic bringing a baby to term. But during delivery, Sophie died.

Bothwell explained the frantic motions of trying to get the baby out of her while there was still hope of resuscitation. Without time for anesthesia, the surgeon cut her open, telling her the baby might not make it. And that she might not survive, either. At that moment, she remembered thinking that if only one of them could live, she hoped that it would be the baby. As Sophie was removed, the doctors began CPR. At 18 minutes (death is announced at 20) they found a pulse. Sophie survived the ordeal. 

Bothwell shared that at age two, Sophie began talking about coming back from death. She said that she had to come back because her mom and dad were so sad she couldn’t bear it. Bothwell’s experience proved to be one of birth, death, and revival: an instance of this cycle energetically manifesting in the material world. Sophie’s journey to, from, and back to her form is an implication of interconnectedness; if energy were to be localized or cut off, how would Sophie have been able to feel the sorrow emanating from her parents? There must have been some seemingly immaterial link transmitting the impression. 

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Bothwell understands us as energy beings that “don’t end with the confines or edges of our physical bodies,” but rather, “we are connected to one another and to all of life—we are a part of our ecosystem.” She imagines there’s no place in this realm that isn’t lined with the energy emitting from God and tries to keep an ongoing awareness of the Presence woven into all life, even if others do not share in this awareness. With the belief that this Presence is all pervasive, animating the material realm in a show of inexplicable phenomena, she challenges the more secular ordering system our society often hangs “truth” upon.

Bothwell shared that she’s accessed these metaphysical planes since childhood, recounting how at three or four-years-old, she knew what her pets were feeling. She could also sense when people were going to die. The latter stemmed from a sense that she would not see their material form again, eventually piecing together the concept of death and rebirth through this feeling. These numinous experiences and sense of connection to a cosmic web were not celebrated within her home. Her parents wrote off her wisdom as lies and became increasingly upset when deaths came to pass soon after her predictions. Bothwell’s clairvoyance indicated that her awareness of transformation was highly attuned from a young age. 

In an artist profile, Bothwell mentions how she is currently “exploring metamorphosis as a topic and [has] been incorporating figures within figures in [her] pieces. Within each glass figure, there is a smaller figure seen through the surface of the glass. [She] think[s] of these pieces as souls, each being pregnant with their own potential, giving birth to new, improved versions of themselves.”

I find that the most interesting facet of metamorphosis, in the individual life, is the transmutation of one’s mind. The cycles of psychological birth, death, and rebirth is an inescapable, ominous, enriching disturbance to the human condition. This begs the question: how can this energetic transmutation be conveyed in material form? Bothwell’s use of glass is guided by her belief that the material creates a kind of inner space when transmitting light. Curiously, as it moves through her creations, the light itself undergoes a kind of transmutation, which forms an aura around the object. These pieces carry Bothwell’s intuitive awareness of metamorphosis into the space they occupy, responding to and then transforming the light that surrounds them. Her works are physical metaphors of the constant change we undergo at any given moment. 

In her piece Going with the Flow, 2022, Bothwell created a hybrid of a young girl’s head on top of an octopus’s tentacles. The head is fashioned from ceramics, with soft features framing closed eyes, suggesting a blissful harmony—perhaps even a hint of oneness. The undulating tentacles lead into the material realm, weaving through life without going against the current. They are fashioned of glass, tinted with shades of purples and pinks, which allow for light to pass through. These materials that are seemingly at odds maintain a crucial tension and union. The opaque ceramic head, who has an almost transcendental look, is crafted with a more dense, earthy material, while the body, which engages with the material world, emits an otherworldly air. The juxtaposition offers a sense of plasticity in the mental and material realm, while the spiritual essence, the soul, is fixed, offering a sense of harmony between the physical, mental, and spiritual planes. This is an interesting and unexpected pairing, as density and shadow are usually associated with the physical, while the light and transcendental are associated with the mental/spiritual. 

There is implicit trust in the soul: this physical incarnation will mentally and physically adapt to the world and its perceived obstacles, just as there is implicit trust in the body and mind that the soul will guide them towards, lifting illusions of “selfhood,” through continuous transmutation. Metamorphosis finds a harmonic state, offering a sense of reassurance and balance in this trinity: physical, mental, and spiritual. Bothwell’s genius cannot be separated from her intuitive, heightened awareness of the cosmos. Her works offer a dimension of consciousness that emanates toward the viewer through her use of materials, metaphor, and subject. 

WORKED CITED

“Christina Bothwell.” Habatat Detroit Fine Art, https://www.habatat.com/artist/38-christina-bothwell. 

D, DOMINICK L. “Framing Memories and the Memorable: Over the Top: Painting on a Grand Scale.” New York Times (1923-) Mar 09 2003: 1. ProQuest. 1 May 2022.

Yood, James. “Christina Bothwell.” American Craft, vol. 63, no. 5, Oct, 2003, pp. 88-93. ProQuest, https://login.libproxy.newschool.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/magazines/christina-bothwell/docview/216142151/se-2?accountid=12261.

Zimmermann, Mark. Review of Flowers of a Beautiful Nightmare, by Christina Bothwell. PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 20, no. 3 (1998): 58–61. https://doi.org/10.2307/3245951.