As with the Aboriginals, art is deeply intrinsic to Amazigh life, with symbols prevalent and powerful throughout the culture. In their book Imazighen: The Vanishing Traditions of Berber Women, Margaret Courtney-Clarke and Geraldine Brooks note, “The Berber languages have been fragmented by time and distance, but the language of symbols remains. Dialects differ, but the symbols that Berbers use in their jewelry, pottery, weavings, and even tattoo into their flesh are the same in the valleys of Algeria’s Kabylia ranges, on the peaks of Morocco’s High Atlas, and in the deserts of Tunisia.” 8 Not just mere decoration, the symbols cover the walls in homes and are woven into tapestries, rugs, and clothing, painted onto pottery, and made into talismanic jewelry—all to protect the people who use them in every aspect of their daily lives.
Amazigh people—especially the women—have been applying tattoos to their bodies for thousands of years, long before the rise of Islam. Most commonly seen marking the chin, cheeks, and forehead of the face, tattoos may also be applied to the arms, legs, breasts, back, thighs, and pubic triangle. There is a modern misconception that the tattoos were applied to the faces of women to make them unattractive to invading soldiers in the nineteenth century, but the practice long predates that idea. Al Jazeera writer Yasmin Bendaas reports of the tradition: “The tattoos were considered enhancers of beauty when applied to the face and had therapeutic and healing purposes—particularly related to fertility—when found elsewhere on the body, such as above the ankle or on the back of the hand. For men, traditional tattoos were far less ornamental and served healing purposes.” 9 The tattoos can denote tribe, lineage, and rank, as well as carry symbols of protection, strength, fertility, and luck. Bendaas also notes that “these symbols embody a more general preservation, not only of women, but also of the land. With tattoos containing literal depictions of nature such as partridges, gazelles and camels, ties to the environment are abundant.” Unfortunately, as Islam prohibits the practice of tattooing, this way of women marking themselves has largely fallen out of practice, but it does still exist today.
What is especially interesting is that while there are some Amazigh symbols that definitely resemble what they’re supposed to mean, a great many of them are incredibly abstract—to the point where if we were not able to talk to the actual people who make them, we’d be just as much at a loss about their meaning as we are about those early signs in the caves. They also seem very simplistic, with their combinations of dots, triangles, cross marks, and chevrons, yet once again we’re looking at a very sophisticated and artful system. Just because a motif may have its roots in the daily aspects of life—hair combs, lamps, fish, snakes, grains, and insects, for example—doesn’t limit its meaning just to that obvious relation. Birds can symbolize freedom and travel, seeds and plants often speak to fertility and prosperity, and tools such as anchors and sickles are often used for protection.
As the Amazigh people cover such a large region, some symbols definitely do vary in style and meaning from tribe to tribe. Another explanation for the differences, as well as the level of abstraction, most likely has to do with how much Islam has been integrated into that tribe. In groups that have been more isolated from modern Islam, the markings are often more recognizable as plants, animals, tools, and heavenly bodies. This kind of art speaks to the polytheistic and animistic roots of the people. The people are not shy about connecting with the sacredness of the land and sky, the plants and animals. The symbols represent and call upon that connection through tattoos, adornment, and household goods. The motifs are believed to carry the blessings and energies of the things they represent.
An Array of Amazigh Symbols
Amazigh Tattoos
In contrast, in cities and areas where Islam is the law, the markings have evolved to become more abstract and seen more as design elements. There is still an undertone of connection, but it has been modified to work within the confines of the new religion. The meaning may still be there, even if the representational image is not. Again, we see the evolution of symbols at work in living cultures, shifting with the modern-day people who apply and evolve those symbols over time.
Gateway of the Divine
If we travel south out of Morocco and Algeria into Western Sahara, Mali, and Niger, we find ourselves along the trade routes of the Berbers known as the Tuareg. The Tuareg are best known for their blue-colored clothing and incredible metalworking skills, evidenced in their amulets and talismans. It’s possible that out of their desire for more jewelry-making materials they extended their trading further into the heart of Central Africa, the Congo, and even as far east as Ethiopia.
The native people of these areas are well known for their own kind of distinctive symbolism and artistry, such as nsibidi, an ideographic script used by the Ekoi, Efik, and Igbo peoples for wall designs, shields, swords, tattoos, and more. Then we have the Kongo people, known for their incredible carved masks and nkisi (sacred) statues to venerate the ancestors, spirits, and guardians of places. When we look at some of the designs and markings found in the iconic Tuareg amulets, there is a sense that the artisans were (and are) likely inspired by the arts of these regions. The jewelry is a mix of Amazigh symbols and artistry with the aesthetic of nsibidi, the designs steeped in an awareness of communion with spirits.
However, while the Tuareg may have found inspiration to add to their own designs, we’re going to leave behind the continent of Africa and head to the New World to look at symbols born out of the diaspora: the religious symbols known as veves. The combination of nsibidi and the arts and beliefs of the Kongo people seem to be the exported root of this tradition of powerful mark making born in the harshest conditions. Although the origins of veves are difficult to trace, looking at similarities between veves, nsibidi markings, and spiritual practices of the Kongo, it’s likely they came to the Americas with people who were taken from those regions and sold into the slave trade. Out of the crucible of forced Christianity, families broken and tribes ripped apart, and cruel living conditions, along with the infusion of indigenous practices, the religion of Vodou and the practice of veves emerged.
A veve is Vodou symbol dedicated to a lwa (spirit) that is drawn on the floor in a ritual context to bring the spirit physically into the space. It is not a sigil in the context of the way that certain sigils are used in ceremonial magic to command a demon, daemon, djinn, or similar spiritual entity. Rather, the veve is a gateway of manifestation for the lwa, an act of reverence, welcome, and devotion. There is no exact “only” veve design for any given lwa either, but there tends to be a base element or motif associated with that spirit accented with additional markings that vary from house to house.
Somewhat similar to the Aboriginal ground paintings used during ritual, the veve that is drawn on the ground is meant to be temporary—it’s often drawn in powder (cornmeal, ash, and other ingredients). Veves may be constructed in other ways (artwork, hangings, flags, etc.) for non-ritual devotional practices. Another thing to consider about the fleeting nature of the drawn veve and its history: if you are forced into a situation where it’s illegal or even punishable by death to practice your religion, but you refuse to submit, it is very advantageous to be able to depict divine entities in a drawing that can be quickly erased at a moment’s notice. That’s the power of symbol and belief. The temporary nature of veves in ritual is also a way to make sure the door to the other world is properly closed as well after everything is done. That way nobody is hanging out in the gateway past the time expected. The nature of the veve and its connection to being a gateway and devotional symbol is vital to understand. It’s more than just a pretty design—it’s a sacred act.
It’s important to remember that Vodou is a living, breathing practice, just as the Aboriginals and Amazigh are still creating new art and symbols. Nothing is under a lens or trapped under a pin like a specimen. Veves are not to be copied for the sake of looking cool, but should be understood and respected in the context of symbols an
d evolving culture. What we can take away from the use of veves is that symbols can be used to communicate with divine forces and crafted in acts of devotion. We can also note the effect, meaning, and power behind creating a temporary mark and a permanent one, as well as use in private and public environments.
A Variety of Veves
The Timelessness of Tagging
On the other side of the spectrum, let’s consider signs and symbols that are generally made in secret yet are meant to buck authority in subtle or blatant ways—ones that are often meant to leave a permanent mark, often to the chagrin of others. This mark-making technique is known as graffiti.
Graffiti (singular: graffito) is an Italian word meaning “incised inscription or design,” so it could refer to any kind of carved design or message. However, it has come to be equated more often with anonymous, unauthorized markings—carved, drawn, or painted—made on surfaces.
Graffiti is a kind of art that is made in defiance against what is expected or allowed. It is a world-wide phenomenon, the symbolic art of the disenfranchised and the marginalized, those of the counterculture. Tagging (repeating a design, name, or message in multiple places) is a way of marking territory and triggering identity, a way of saying to the world, “Hey, I exist here too, even if you refuse to see me.” It’s commonly seen as vandalism rather than art, since it tends to be done on the places and property of others, though it would be unfair to say graffiti artists revel in desecrating or destroying their neighbors’ property. Most graffiti is found on things that could be considered liminal spaces: on back-alley walls, underpasses, rail cars, and abandoned buildings. It shows up in semi-communal spaces: parks, subway walls, and bathroom doors. Whether in words or images, the graffiti is a message from the maker to the world, aimed at communicating with it at large.
What’s especially interesting about graffiti is that a design rarely is done just once. Often a certain symbol or message is repeated again and again, either from constantly being reapplied after its removal and/or from being duplicated in multiple locations. This kind of tagging can mark a specific range of territory for a group, designate a meeting place, or invite a response from others. Members of various secret societies, underground groups, and gangs have all used graffiti to connect with one another as well. Lining up the locations of repetitive markings can sometimes create a larger picture, a constellation, map, or message the artist wants to subtly make known. There’s even a very modern design called the Linking Sigil (aka LS or Ellis) that was designed in the early 2000s for magical practitioners to mark places of power and link them together to stimulate change in the larger society. 10
Photo of Graffiti in Greece
Guerrilla graffiti installations are frequently done by artists seeking to make loud social or political statements or to transform the face of buildings in blighted inner cities and war-torn landscapes. They ask the viewer to question their reality, authority, and social standards. The power is in the ability to make a work of graffiti appear overnight, and to accept that it may be destroyed soon after its making, though in many cities across the world, graffiti artists are now being hired to purposely bring their art to the masses in public spaces. Therein lies the question: Is graffiti made with permission still revolutionary? Does being sanctioned take away its power? Or does this new form of sanctioned graffiti become something else—another form of transformational art? It’s certainly an interesting challenge for the graffiti artist to consider.
As graffiti is found all over the world and has been made for centuries, it’s another connecting point for the human need to make signs and symbols. It also speaks to the power and thrill of making art that’s unexpected and out-of-bounds, creating hidden messages in plain sight, and making repetitive symbols. Graffiti elicits the power of the subliminal, the subversive, and the bold. These are important things to keep in mind when we discuss crafting sigils: Who are we speaking to? What is our message?
Symbol Genesis
There are many more symbol systems from around the world (ancient to modern) that I haven’t mentioned here. To cover them all would require a whole book, not just a chapter. Rather, I hope that through the systems we have covered here, you are noticing the commonality of markings, the variety of uses, and the fluent nature of their meanings. Cultures thousands of miles and/or centuries apart can come to create similar-looking symbols with almost identical meanings—or very different ones. It’s imperative to consider the cultural context and application to fully understand the nature and meaning of the marks and signs we see in the world. The challenge I present to you is to deeply consider what meanings you find in symbols, and how to make signs that are your own.
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1. Genevieve Von Petzinger, The First Signs (New York: Atria Books, 2016), 174.
2. Genevieve Von Petzinger, The First Signs (New York: Atria Books, 2016), 268.
3. David Lewis-Williams and Thomas Dowson, Images of Power: Understanding Bushman Rock Art (Johannesburg: Southern Book Publishers, 1989), Preface.
4. For a good online resource on Aboriginal art by Aboriginals, I recommend checking out http://aboriginalart.com.au.
5. David Lewis-Williams and Thomas Dowson, Images of Power: Understanding Bushman Rock Art (Johannesburg: Southern Book Publishers, 1989), 13.
6. See the fascinating comparison chart at “History of the Hebrew Alphabet,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Hebrew_alphabet.
7. Dr. Agata Paluch, “The Power of Language in Jewish Kabbalah and Magic: How to Do (and Undo) Things with Words,” Feb. 29, 2016, www.bl.uk/hebrew-manuscripts/articles/the-power-of-language-in-jewish-kabbalah#sthash.NrP5zEMk.dpuf.
8. Margaret Courtney-Clarke (photographer), with essays by Geraldine Brooks, Imazighen: The Vanishing Traditions of Berber Women (New York: Clarkson Potter Publishers, 1996), 78.
9. Yasmin Bendaas, “Algeria’s Tattoos: Myths and Truths,” Al Jazeera, August 11, 2013, www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features /2013/08/201386134439936719.html.
10. For more about the Linking Sigil, see Assault on Reality, www.dkmu.org.
Chapter 2
The Meaning of the Mark
Your name is a collection of letters making up the words that identify you: your first name, last name, maybe a middle name or two, or a nickname. It may be the name you were born with, a name you were given, a name you added or changed, or one you took on for yourself. These are the words that others call you by, the doctor’s office or school knows, the government lists you under. But what is the symbol for those words, the one that identifies you? It’s one you have already created and crafted over time since you first held a pencil: your signature.
From the time I started working in retail in my early teens to now when I ring up sales at art shows on my tablet, I have noticed that the majority of people’s signatures are some sort of scribble. The words and their individual letters are often nearly indecipherable. People are more likely to leave a loose swirl or similar grouping of lines, making shapes instead of recognizable letters, to the point where the signature becomes more an idea of the name—of you—than a word. The power of this symbol to the world is that you are acknowledging a transaction or change of some sort when you apply it. The meaning of your signature is your acceptance, approval, or endorsement of an idea. That’s the meaning found in that mark.
Your signature also signifies that you know how to wield a pen or stylus or use your finger to draw symbols. If you can develop and draw your own signature, you can create and make sigils! In this chapter we’re going to explore how we can relate words with symbols and then create our own system of marks instilled with our own meaning.
The Symbolism That Lives in Lines
A single symbol can have so many meanings—which can change and evolve over time and differ from culture to culture. If we consider the theory
that humanity all started in one place, it’s possible that we created a set of signs and symbols there first. Then, as we migrated and moved outward into the world, it’s only natural that those markings would evolve over time. As our ancestors encountered new landscapes, climates, and animals, the symbol vocabulary grew and changed. It’s also wise to keep in mind that information passes and changes from generation to generation for a multitude of reasons. Those differences affect how each culture sees and interprets the world. Some symbols fall out of use and become forgotten, current ones get altered to suit one’s needs, and new marks are created.
It’s important to keep all of this evolving history in mind when looking at what elements you are going to use in making your sigils. I’m going to introduce you to many of the marks and shapes I use in creating my sigils, and you’re probably going to find many of them familiar. Some of them you may have never considered as having meaning, and others you may find you have your own interpretations for, different from my own. There are also most certainly other shapes and symbols I haven’t listed here that you may feel inclined to use in your sigils. My job here is twofold: to expose you to new ways of looking at dots, lines, marks, and symbols and to help you think about what is important and meaningful for you.
Sigil Witchery Page 4
