COLQUHOUN THE MAGICIAN
Colquhoun’s position as a female occultist in the mid-twentieth century was, in some ways, privileged, but in others problematic. Historically, she was one of the first generation of women who took part in ceremonial magic as of right and as equals to men. Prior to the pioneering work of women such as H. P. Blavatsky (1831–1891), Anna Kingsford (1846–1888), and Moïna Mathers (1865–1928), the occult had been an all-male preserve. These women exerted a lasting influence on the occult scene, paving the way for influential female near-contemporaries of Colquhoun, such as Dion Fortune (born Violet Mary Firth; 1890–1946), whose Society of the Inner Light rejected Colquhoun as a member in 1956, and Tamara Bourkhoun (1911–1990), whose Order of the Pyramid and the Sphinx accepted Colquhoun as a member in the 1970s. The new status of women, not just as participants in occult activity but as founders and leaders of hermetic societies, was, in part, a consequence of changing social conditions, but it also owed much to the concurrent development of a specifically female spirituality.
One of the key figures in the latter process was the Frenchman Alphonse Constant, better known today as Eliphas Lévi (1810–1875). Lévi, whose influence on occultism in France and England is still felt, closely identified Woman with the powers of nature: she was an elemental energy, a prophetess, a transforming life force. In the words of Moïna Mathers, “Woman is the magician born of nature by reason of her great natural sensibility, and of her instinctive sympathy with such subtle energies as these intelligent inhabitants of the air, the earth, fire and water.”59
Emotional and sexual attachment to a woman, then, is to achieve proximity to elemental powers. Lévi’s views helped form those of André Breton, for whom love and desire occupied a central place in surrealist transformation. The glorification of the power of desire and its capacity to challenge conventional moral and social constraints formed part of the surrealist program, in the belief that it would lead to social as well as sexual revolution. However, while surrealist language and imagery eroticized the female body, it did so, paradoxically, by treating it destructively through distortion and dismemberment or by treating it as a passive object of male desire. It was a contradiction that was never resolved: most male surrealists were quite unable to live up to their revolutionary precepts. Their treatment of women remained a projection of traditional male fantasies; women were revered but simultaneously feared, objectified, and debased.
For the women who were drawn to surrealism, this represented a challenge that was both personal and philosophical. Some resigned themselves, more or less unwillingly, to the role imposed upon them as muse. Some, such as the artists Toyen and Claude Cahun, rejected gender stereotypes, in life as well as in art, each living a life of gender ambiguity. Others made use of Lévi’s recently established links between the hermetic tradition and women’s creative powers. If recognition of their unique spiritual powers offered nineteenth-century women a way forward from their social, biological, and reproductive bondage, the same might be hoped for by women attracted to surrealism.60 Leonora Carrington, for instance, often used alchemical symbols in her art and writings, while Remedios Varo frequently depicted the paraphernalia of magic: crystal balls, alchemical laboratories, retorts, alembics, and ritualistic activities. What sets these artists apart from Colquhoun, however, is that for all their theoretical knowledge and occasional practical ventures—Varo, for example, is known to have consulted the I Ching before making important decisions61—they were primarily consumers of magic rather than contributors to the development of magical knowledge. They drew upon established traditions, but more as a source of pictorial imagery than inspiration for their own research. Unlike Colquhoun, they did not develop or modify ritual practices or make magical discoveries of their own. Further, the playful whimsicality and theatricality that frequently suffused their work is entirely absent from that of Colquhoun, whose attitude toward magic was always studious and respectful.
In the popular imagination, magic and divination are associated with the use of a crystal ball. However, this is not mandatory and, in practice, any reflective surface will do. As many magicians had done before her, Colquhoun used a mirror for divination. Hers was nineteen inches in diameter, with an ornate hand-beaten copper frame that she had made by a local craftsperson. When not in use, to keep it from prying eyes and preserve its accumulated magical powers, she kept it wrapped in a lace shawl, knotted with three double knots, to harmonize with three knot-work bosses on the copper frame (fig. 10). The knots were then wrapped round with a yellow rope, which she called “Um,” short for “umbilicus.” When using the mirror, Colquhoun would wrap one end of the rope around her waist, connecting the other to the mirror. With the shawl over her head and enclosing the mirror, she linked herself to her image in the mirror via “Um.” Identifying her mirror image with her astral body, she projected her consciousness into it and traveled in astral realms.62
In a rare excursion into esoteric Islam, Torso (1981; fig. 11), Colquhoun applies a Western sensibility to an Eastern theme. It concerns the lataif-e-sitta, the six subtleties, or suprasensory organs said by Sufis to be part of the spiritual self, in the way that biological organs are part of the physical body. Sufic development involves the awakening of these dormant spiritual centers in a set order. The lataif are, in sequence, Nafs (blue: ego), Qalb (yellow: mind), Ruh (red: spirit), Sirr (white: consciousness), Khafi (black: intuition), and Ikhfa (green: deep perception). The angular connecting arrow in Colquhoun’s painting indicates the order of awakening, commencing with Nafs, the pale blue background. Many readers will notice the similarity between the subtleties and, in other traditions, the chakras and the sephiroth. Additionally, those familiar with the Golden Dawn will realize that Colquhoun’s method of indicating the sequence derives from the Golden Dawn technique of spelling out an angelic name on a magic square.
Notwithstanding the diversity of Colquhoun’s hermetic interests, a constant focus in her magical life was the Qabalah. Central to this school of Jewish mysticism is the quest to understand the interconnections between all things in the created cosmos. The search is undertaken largely through the study of correspondences. Because Hebrew letters are also numbers, every word can be converted to a number and connected to all other words that share the same number. In this way, slowly and incrementally, God’s plan may be understood.63 The magical practitioner who wishes to construct a ritual with a specific purpose in mind will take great pains to make use of this accumulated knowledge and surround himself or herself with objects that are related to one another and associated with the magical end. For example, as part of her study program with the Ordo Templi Orientis in 1952, Colquhoun developed a ritual to be used by a woman to capture the affections of a man she loved. In other words, it was a good old-fashioned spell. We have quoted at length from the ritual below and published an associated poem to make the point that—aside from all the details concerning the setting, the magical implements, and the appropriate symbols, all chosen for their links with Venus, the goddess of love—a magical ritual is a sensory experience. The magician tries to involve as many senses as possible in pursuit of the desired outcome:
The oratory is hung with silk curtains of bright rose colour rayed with pale green; a circle fourteen feet in diameter is painted on the floor in emerald green, and immediately within it a seven-pointed star in pale green. At each point of the star a light is burning in a copper lamp. In the centre of the star is a heptagonal altar hung with emerald green silk upon which stands a copper chalice containing in liquid form the drug damiana surrounded by a cerise-coloured girdle. To the left of this is a vase made of turquoise holding roses; to the right is a copper censer burning sandalwood, in front a silken pantacle engraved with a beautiful naked woman, the names Kedemel and Hagiel, the sigil of Venus and the Hexagram with the planetary symbol of ♀ in the right lower point. In front of this again