SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN, AN OIL PAINTING BY MARY HYMERS, 1968

SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN, AN OIL PAINTING BY MARY HYMERS, 1968

 authors note: due to technical difficulties, I cannot include in this article the picture of the painting. but on the facebook fan page I shall be able to upload a photograph of it and include it before and after the link to this article.

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Without looking, without checking, I think that I have heard Superstition Mountain was or is said to contain much mystery. Someone once told me that her grandfather, among others, used to go on sojourns there looking for the gold that was said to have been hidden in the rocks. Did men actually wrest gold out of Superstition Mountain? I don’t know. And why was it called Superstition Mountain? Though I can see paintings and stories in my mind’s eye about men of old who might have set out look around and possibly in the mountain, it does not matter for our purpose here will be to describe the painting for one and the feelings it evokes in this viewer. But first a quick word about the imaginary vision of those men: It is the end of the work week, or the beginning of a summer week, and there are a few of them. They wear old boots too hot for the weather in Arizona, but boots necessary for the trek and the terrain. There they go, off, towards the great rock that waits and not much save for some desert chaparral appears along the way. The chaparral might hold a spider or snake in amongst it that watch or somehow listen instinctually to the boots going past. What will the men find? And nobody knows,- but there is a solitary man, one who went before them, and he wears a rucksack on his back and wrinkles upon his brow. He also is in search of gold, - but goes it alone like the dawn hawk, like an ousted wolf, like the somewhat coy and semi feral creature he is.

The painting: There is a cactus in the foreground to the right, and it is tall, mature, and pleasant. A little further on is some verdant tree that curves to the left as it goes up. I like this tree. It is peculiar and odd and grows in funny directions but has survived. It is not huge but big enough to provide a little shade. It seems there is some boulders and dirt before it also, - and they are blackened or something out of the frame is casting shade on them. I like it. Spread out all the way to the mountain it would seem are little wild bushes with red flowers. If you look closely, there is another cactus down to the left, and another larger tree. Then, - the mountain, and the artist has rendered it (to my way of thinking) just perfectly because as in real life, it is, as things are, actually not front and centre and obvious, - but to the side, o0ff-of centre. It is still majestic, and does not have to brag. It knows what it is, - and it is its time, - this mountain, - a time of quiet glory. It was here before and shall be here after. There are crevices and shadings and different parts, - above, - the sky with blue yes, - but clouds, - and these white clouds seem to mingle with the blue heavens. White cloud, blue sky, green cacti, silver and grey and charcoal rock, red flowers, flaxen and light brownish yellow desert earth,- all coming together well.

It feels as if one day I could go to Superstition Mountain. I shall go around there and see what I see, - maybe a vision. Unlike the truth stretcher, Carlos Castaneda, I will relay the actuality of what happens. Until then I can only imagine. I walk into the picture in my mind’s eye and touch the red flowers, stand momentarily under and beside the shaded areas near the trees, venture onwards to the other distant cactus, and go eventual towards and onto the bottom of the mountain. What’s this? There is an opening, a bit of a corridor, cooler by degrees, easy enough still to see though for the bright sun filters in the opening. I go, in boots too hot for the day, but built properly, - in plaid and pant legs to protect from snakes or insects or scorpions or the sun.


I go in a kind of corridor that leads to a series of caves. I go in a faith to see what minor and major destinies await, like a character on the minor or major arcana cards themselves,- Fool, Magician, Hierophant, so on…………and soon the mountain envelopes me and all that is left is the painting as before.



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