Analysis and Review of an Artist's Work by Paul M Deegan

What follows here are a series of reflections on the qualities, characteristics, themes and unifying principles which proliferate throughout the works of artist G. Mark Mulleian. This study is a work in progress which will be added to, updated and revised periodically, but hopefully it will contribute insight and stimulate further study of the works produced by this visionary artist.

If asked to describe the paintings of G. Mark Mulleian it would be difficult to find a single term or phrase that would adequately characterize the essence of the body of work this artist has produced over the past four decades. His paintings range in subject matter from scenes depicting seemingly simple moments in time, random glimpses of objects or articles lost or left behind, visual meditations on the sweetness of impermanence, images expressing quiet longing or regret that go far beyond a simple nostalgic remembrance of things past into a realm of implication and meaning for the present and future. Always, in these simple scenes, there is a mystery, an irresistible invitation to reverie, reflection and ultimately, to transformation. In all of Mulleian’s paintings, as in much of Japanese haiku, the universe is reflected in the single, the small, but especially in the humble, simple things and in this characteristic, there is a mystical, often prophetic quality that permeates his work.

Perhaps the real key to appreciating Mulleian’s painting is in understanding from the outset that what at first appears as a simple image is, throughout, like encountering a riddle, the visual equivalent of a Zen koan. Obviously, each piece can be appreciated at face value due to the realistic, almost photographic rendering of the objects in all of his works. Indeed, examining the details in such paintings as “Lost Journey” or “Spring Rain”, “The Orphan” or “Futility”, offer a nearly endless progression of visual delights and sensual satisfactions. One can almost smell the dampness of the outer garden in “Spring Rain” or hear the scurrying of the mice, the chirp of the crickets or the cry of a circling hawk above the lush, rolling meadow of “Lost Journey”. And it is just this quality of photographic realism, the supreme objectivity which can be recognized immediately in the presentation of object and atmosphere that draws the viewer closer because of the familiarity of the images and the truth and clarity of their rendering. This realism can be seen in the play of light upon the surface of the suede jacket in “Futility,

interacting with, enhancing and complimenting the others in an alchemical mingling of elements that bring the viewer as close to experiencing the work as though in person. These senses, or rather, sensations, are fundamental means of orienting ourselves to our surrounding reality, and in all of Mulleian’s works, once those sensations are engaged, the other elements of thought, feeling and intuition are invariably stimulated, elements which the psychologist Carl Jung posited as the basic modes of function and perception. According to Jung’s view, none of these modes of functioning operate in isolation because each is a necessary element of perception. Sensation tells us that “something” is there, thought tells us what that “something” is, feeling allows us to determine the value of that “something”, and intuition is what informs us of the implications and meanings of the past, present and future of that “something”. If one’s experience is determined only by thought, let’s say, or by feeling, that experience is necessarily left undeveloped, fixed in the moment, unbalanced and incomplete. There is a dynamic tendency in all of this toward wholeness, toward an ongoing process of development through time, an expression of the inherent need for completeness that Jung posited as fundamental to human function and development, and absolutely essential to an ongoing realization of both the subjective and objective experience of a meaningful existence. It is in this context that Mulleian’s work is profoundly effective.

Through each of his paintings Mulleian has posed questions relating to the nature, meaning and implications of experience as lived in the context of time, either by depicting simple objects in isolated or unusual circumstances, or by juxtaposing one reality over another, and sometimes, several layers of reality at once. But seldom, if ever, is the image or the setting the end of the experience. More often, these visual subjects are a matrix of symbolic elements that are intended to draw the viewer ever closer into a reflective examination of what can ultimately only be described as the Self. The inter-relationship between the symbolic, the spiritual, the prophetic and profane is presented with disarming simplicity, but upon reflection, will be seen to open unexpected insights into matters which extend far beyond physical realms. There are two paintings in particular that illustrate this point: “The Holy Grail” and “The Chalice”, each almost a mirror image of the other in regard to their components, and yet in style, diametric opposites. They are presentations of two worlds, the world of the humble and the world of the elite, and yet their essential content is the same. “The Holy Grail” has

about it the same dark and somber mood, the same spiritual energy found in the latter work of Rembrandt. What are also found here is absolutely typical of many of Mulleian’s other pieces, the almost spherical inter-relationship between the various elements of the piece. It is a compound image, a vessel within a vessel, within an even greater vessel. Here the subject is a bucket being drawn from a dark, subterranean well, but not just an ordinary bucket. The wooden stays have shrunk, perhaps due to it having been subjected to prolonged periods of heat such as would occur in a desert setting, thus causing the water to escape and rendering the bucket useless. There is contained within, however, something not quite discernable at first glance, until one gradually recognizes the shape of a goblet, weathered, battered, resting on its side, tilted away from the viewer. Emanating from the interior of this goblet is a light, one senses quite likely no ordinary light, clearly something supernatural. In one seemingly meaningless image there are proposed a series of questions, a

“…Like the rising sun in a golden cage” “The Chalice” depicts a similar subject, a goblet and the appearance of a supernatural light emanating from it. But here there is an image of splendor and wealth, a goblet, sublime in its elegance, elevated to the status of a chalice because of the jewel-encrusted gold from which the vessel is made. Again, what is the meaning of this image? The artist’s own comments are illuminating:

Past and future, spirit and matter are represented here, the light emerging from the goblet, the collective spirit rising above the formal restrictions inherent in ossified traditions which have ceased to provide any real sustenance other than material splendor and wealth. Essentially this work is a metaphor for the coming of an age, one might even say, a variation on the idea of the phoenix rising from the ashes. Here is prophetic transcendence of passionate collective spirit over gilded matter. It is also the expression of faith in the inherent wisdom and strength of the human spirit, able to recognize the need to renew and transform itself by responding, submitting to the demands of a life-giving force. The symbolism is striking in the economy and elegance of the image. By contrast, “The Holy Grail” employs the same basic elements but in a deliberately much less elegant form. It is an infinitely more personal painting than “The Chalice”, personal in the sense that the potential for transformation
being described here is intended to convey a

One assumes, given the supernatural nature of the light appearing to glow from under the water’s surface, that there is a similar symbolic assumption relating to each of the objects depicted here. At the literal level the bucket itself might be seen as a symbol for neglected human intensions. Someone, in good faith, is attempting to draw sustenance from the well, apparently without considering the futility of their actions given the neglected state of the bucket. And yet, in spite of this apparent lack of good sense, the effort to draw water is being honored with a stroke of astonishing good fortune. Seemingly by accident, the bucket has dredged from the depths of the well a priceless object which cost the lives of countless men who went in quest of it. This goblet, an object of inestimable value because it was touched by the lips of Christ, who spoke the word of truth, is being conveyed to someone who apparently has more faith than rational good sense. The Holy Grail is itself a symbol of transformation, a gift that cannot be earned, but given freely. One might surmise that what this painting is depicting is an act of Providence and, as such, is a statement of faith that, in spite of himself, man is protected and provided for by benevolent, intangible forces. But at an even deeper level of reflection, the bucket may be seen as the symbol of a human consciousness dominated by material values, unable to recognize or retain the benefit from the overwhelming wealth of its surroundings because of its failure to recognize, understand or appreciate the existence of the spiritual realities that lie neglected at the center of its being. Once again, the artist’s comments on the work defined in the context and meaning of the image.

more individual as opposed to a collective statement. The chalice is reduced to the level of a simple, ordinary, functional goblet, being scooped from the bottom of a well, almost certainly by accident, unknown and unintended. The smaller vessel is contained within a larger one, the larger within a larger still. The setting is deep within the earth, far from any possibility of observation. The bucket, worse for wear with its shrunken slats, is clearly not up to the demands for which it was originally intended.

What is this saying of time? What does the future hold? All will know the truth, which will show the meaning that humanity has waited for so long to know. Listen to the inner truth, which lies deep within. And if this warning is ignored, what would be the consequences? In a sublimely understated way, these works are prophetic in nature and, in the light of the full body of the artist’s work, quite representative of the creative energies and insights displayed throughout. There is no question that the works are beautiful and satisfying to look at without needing to probe for meaning, though meaning abounds if one is inclined to look beyond the beautiful surfaces. Clearly though, there is a consistent message of hope and belief in the transformative mystery of Providence working through all things. At the same time, there are warnings of darker elements that are the possible consequence of ignoring our own inner promptings, what Jung would describe as “ignoring the Shadow”. Without reflection, the artist implies, we are at great risk of bringing about our own annihilation. Foremost among all of Mulleian’s work in illustrating this point is his Dies Irae, with a second work, Prevailing Dawn, offering an echoing, reflecting message.

Dies Irae is perhaps Mulleian’s best known work, and likely the most timely in its implications in relation to the world’s contemporary political realities. It is also one of the most complex in terms of conception, composition and symbolic representation, a painting of symphonic, even biblical, dimensions. At no time in the history of mankind have we been so close to the possibility of realizing the full blown consequences of our individual and collective unconsciousness as we are just now, and as we move forward into the new Millennium, those impending consequences multiply exponentially. With the proposed revival of Cold War strategies relating to the potential use of nuclear weapons the nuclear brinksmanship of the Kennedy/Khrushchev era pales by comparison to the catastrophic possibilities inherent in the foreign policies of the current American administration. Although the idea for Dies

The painting depicts a highly dramatic vision, biblical in scale, of the moment before the end of all moments, the moment before the end of all human sentience, the split second before the chance of choice is gone from human power forever. It also represents, in fact, illustrates, the product of man’s mental, moral and emotional development without the benefit of self-reflection. At the outset we are presented with a vision that is placed outside the known boundaries of time, the moment when all natural cycles of earthly life are brought to an absolute standstill, as though waiting in balance for a decision as to whether life is to continue or cease altogether. The title, “Dies Irae”, is derived from the name of a Medieval Latin hymn describing the “Day of Judgment”, used in some Catholic Masses for the dead. “Day of Wrath”, the first words of the hymn, might seem a prophetic, fitting phrase to describe the painting’s vision of Earth’s transformation into Hell, but there are a number of dual symbolic elements at work within the piece (such as the eagle, the vineyard and the river) which propose the thought that the vision is more a prediction than a prophecy. If seen within the context of a “celebration” of a ceremony in commemoration of the dead, already the idea of transformative hope is proposed.

The subject is Man, clearly dominating the very center of the painting, here presented in a symbolic form, as a fetus, that is, depicted at a stage when all of his structural features are first discernable, at the very beginning of all that would qualify this object as recognizably human. The form is there, as is the potential for its future development. And yet, the form is ripped from its natural context, from its mother’s womb, absolutely vulnerable, and, at this precise moment, questionably viable as a life form. The present context is that of imminent catastrophe, or rather, imminent extinction, for what is represented in the distance is nuclear annihilation. Once again, Light is the central unifying principle at the heart of the painting, both in terms of the painting’s composition and certainly, in terms of it’s meaning. The light of the nuclear blast is seen in unearthly, splendorous beauty at the center of the painting, filtering through the umbilical tissue surrounding the fetus, but radiating outward from that central point of light are the sound and shock waves, the seismic effects of the blast which has already had the beginnings of its effects on the distant atmosphere. As painted, it is as though the very atoms have begun to melt, the sky charged with an unimaginable energy bursting outward in all directions from the blast, the light radiating through vaporizing banks of clouds, which dissolve and drip their sulfurous discharge earthward, obeying only the laws of physics and gravity, lightening being discharged in an apocalyptic fury, effectively challenging the likes of Beethoven and Mahler in the symphonic dimensions being conjured forward in visual form.

By juxtaposing the image of the fetus directly in front of the atomic blast the artist seems to be saying “Here is the light of the world”, but “light of the world” not in the sense as was attributed to the Son of Man. In his will to power man has presumed to supplant the power of the divine with his own. In this instance the light is to be seen as the final product of man’s intellect and vision, his wisdom and passion, his blindness and rage, the result of his hubris and fear. In an objective yet sublimely ironic way, the judgment is rendered upon man by his own hand. The wrath for which the day is named is man’s own wrath, and the cataclysmic majesty unfolding diabolically, gloriously behind him is the fruit of man’s final judgment upon himself.

Directly above the center of the painting, a quarter of the distance from center to top, there is another light, a second light, distinct and purely separate from the light of the nuclear blast. The lower light of the initial blast might be seen as the outcome of man’s ignoring the promptings of spirit. The upper light is the Spirit itself, and it is the same light that has radiated from the two previously discussed paintings, “Holy Grail” and “The Chalice” and appears in other of his paintings as a central, symbolic principle. The benevolent, intangible force prevails because it is the spiritual reality underlying, or rather, balancing the tangible, material world, and, in this instance, over-riding the effect of the atomic blast. It is as though the viewer is given a chance to imagine in a sublime way, a choice. Without reflection, hubris and fear will prevail. Hence the higher light, the final judgment of, and redemption from, man’s inhumanity to man.

the stunning detail of the prismatic breaking of light through the droplets of water and the beveled surfaces of the cut-glass bottle in “Spring Rain”, or the beaded strands of illuminated droplets that compose the spider’s web in “The Tricycle”, and perhaps especially, the detail of the cracked and frosted surfaces of the window frame in the otherwise dreamlike, almost impressionistic work, “Prevailing Dawn”. All of the detailed treatments of the aspects of light, texture and form, the richness and subtle harmony of color, and the supreme objectivity in these works present an immediately recognizable sensation to the viewer, a subliminal key to recognition of the familiar “truth” of the images that is both welcoming and provocative of curiosity to seek answers to the questions posed within the context of the works.
Throughout the works there are elements that immediately engage the senses, first, quite obviously, the sense of sight, but also, by association and recall of memory, the senses of hearing, touch, taste and smell, each sensation

riddle posed as a sort of challenge to the viewer to employ whatever means possible to determine the meaning, the value and the purpose of what is seen. The senses show us what is there, but what doe’s it mean, what is its value, and what are the implications of both that meaning and that worth? A key to that meaning might be found in the second piece, “The Chalice”

Paul Deegan, author of "Analysis and Review of an Artist's Work", first entered Mulleian's career in 2002.
Deegan's background includes a 1970s Bachelor of Education degree course at Mather College, Manchester
University, England, with majors in Education, English Literature, and History of Western Art. Since
2002, Deegan has been writing an extensive study of the artist's full body of work.