The Pegasus (Dennis Aubrey)

“Indeed during the Middle Ages there existed a sort of cinema in colors of which no trace has survived; just as in the sudden dawning of a larger hope amongst men who had not forgotten the dark age whence they had emerged but yesterday – a dawning symbolized by the great cathedrals soaring heavenwards – there was a splendid confidence in the future, not unlike that of America.”
André Malraux, “Voices of Silence”

André Malraux observed in Voices of Silence that medieval artists were not creating pictures or statues of Madonnas, they were actually creating a Madonna. They did not think that they were representing the reality, but creating it. They were saying “This is the Madonna” not “This is a picture of a Madonna.”

Notre Dame d'Estours, Eglise Saint Pierre, Monistrol d'Allier (Haute-Loire)  Photo by Dennis Aubrey
Notre Dame d’Estours, Eglise Saint Pierre, Monistrol d’Allier (Haute-Loire) Photo by Dennis Aubrey

What must have life been like to create such an understanding. I think that we have made clear in this blog over the last few years that these medieval artisans were not in any way primitive or ignorant, but were instead capable of the most profound appreciations of the world and the most profound representations of their deep inner faith. I have come to suspect that they were capable of this because they understood the promise of that faith, they had Malraux’s “splendid confidence in the future”. In my own way, I came to that understanding on December 9, 1977.

On that night, I experienced an enormously powerful and vivid dream that comes as close to sustaining me with a life-giving faith as anything in my self-absorbed and solipsistic life. I still have the original middle-of-the-night transcription of the dream recorded in my journal, dated December 9, 1977:

“Violence dreams by the dozens lately – but the Pegasus dream made up for it. Having captured two men who turned into white horses, feeling threatened, the first horse leaping over the fence at me, I recognize that the second must be released – he is somehow in my power. The second horse climbs a 50’ wire fence and when atop leaps in the air – a beautiful white Pegasus – silver in the cloud-piercing moonlight. Transfixed by beauty – knowing that I can see it because it is there. The passers-by who mock my reverence cannot see it, but it is truly there – a vision of beauty. Donner, one of he men from the concrete pit, related to the Pegasus- stabs me in the back – it must be done – perhaps because I have seen the Pegasus – no malice. Knowing I will die soon I say – let me live for a week so I can see my parents. Death begins physically within, like an interior collapse. I go into the kitchen and see my father. I cry as I hug him and tell him I love him. The feeling of seeing Pegasus before I die, and when I see it I die … but having seen I can die. Pegasus comes from something I am punishing or lead to punishment … something I think wrong, but in reality it is a vessel for Pegasus.”

Study for Guernica horse, Pablo Picasso (1937)
Study for Guernica horse, Pablo Picasso (1937)

I still shudder with discovery as I read this. This was the last entry in my journal for about 17 months.

In the following nights I dreamt sections of the dream again. The first night the dream was complete, and the nights following I re-dreamt segments of the dream as if I were shooting coverage of a scene in a movie, explaining and amplifying different parts of the original dream – never changing, just amplifying. One of them was seeing the second white horse climb the fence, seeing up close how the wire tore into the living flesh of the horse, close enough that I could feel the hot gusting of his breath on my face.

But throughout this time of dreaming, there was a conviction, an absolute conviction, that this was a promise for my life – that I would see the Pegasus before I die, and having seen it, would be prepared to die. This has been my source of faith for my entire life, for my own “splendid confidence in the future”.

Caravaggio, Conversion on the Way to Damascus,  Santa Maria del Popolo (Rome)
Caravaggio, Conversion on the Way to Damascus, Santa Maria del Popolo (Rome)

Sometimes in reflecting on my life, I wonder how a sane man can live his life based on such dreams? Where is the rational explanation for this disembodied voice speaking to me? I hear it clearly, but there is no visible source. Is this is a vision or a dream? At such moments I understand the Lakota Vision Quest.

21 thoughts on “The Pegasus (Dennis Aubrey)

      1. finally, you reveal your vision… you mentioned it in the past… you wished to have the courage to talk about it, and now we have it. It is precious. Like a piece of your soul. It has the beauty of your pictures and of your texts, of all your creations… I can’t wait to see where you will fly tomorrow…

      2. Joel, I am honored – and astonished – that you would read so closely. Thank you, you give me the courage to write what I’ve guarded so closely for so long.

  1. Wow, this is different thinking. I like the surprises that come with your blog. It’s like we’re reading your life.

    1. Trish, I sometimes think that I reveal more of my life than is necessary in these posts, but it is tied in so completely to this work that separation is almost impossible. What I feel and hope and fear is almost part of the churches that we photograph. Thanks for your commentary on this.

  2. What a beautiful entry, Dennis. It took me back to a vision of ethereal beauty I had in the winter of 1996. It has been there ever since for me to call back, but never with the breathless quality of the first. As always, thank you.

    1. Kalli, I wrote in my journal almost every day for ten years until that December night. It was not intentional to stop, but it just happened. I wish that I had transcribed the follow-on dreams, but decades later they are still clear.

  3. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself. You said “I want to be in that beatified state where I don’t take photographs, but create churches.” But for us who cannot travel to the places you have seen, you have been “creating churches”, not just arches and sculptures, but the feeling, essence of those who built and trod those stones. I, for one, hope that you keep letting us fly with you through your photography for a long time to come. All the best!

    1. Ludwig, am so sorry that I never saw this message. Thank you for the encouragement that you give. We are planning our trip for this spring right now, and will have another 70 or so churches under our belt. There will be some very important churches in the Limousin and the Pyrenées, as well as a few Gothic cathedrals (especially Saint Etienne de Bourges).

      1. No need to apologize, just carry on! Glad to hear of your planned trip. I hope to tag along and see then through your eyes and camera!

  4. It takes courage to share your soul with others. Visions do not come because you will them into being, and so they are equal parts gift and burden. Thank you.

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