Some months ago I discussed the Unnamed, describing them/it as “the limitless, amorphous divinity
yet at the edge of consciousness and memory. Not the forgotten gods, but those
who are ‘unborn,’ whose names have yet been spoken” (Micromanifesto #1). Expanding
on this notion, the Unnamed is that
or those which reside at the furthest reaches of knowing. To speak in metaphor,
one might conceive of a circle (or perhaps a cone, should one desire to situate
the expansion of knowledge across time). This circle, then, is representative
of the Known, cordoning itself against the vast Unknown just beyond its
tentative curves. Should one press to the edges of the known, they will find these
same liminal boughs through which divinity—through which the Unknown—permeates:
this is the site of creation, the realm of epiphany where art, where magic,
where invention takes shape, mingling with the fluid contents of knowledge. This
corpus of knowledge lends shape to the amorphous unknown, it speaks in form, in
symbol, in personality and association. In this way, that which is created is
reflective: the mind molds, even if the modes are unconscious. To create is to
do so through a lens, beauty is beholden to culture, thought to experience. By
understanding this, one is apt to be more reflexive, but even still cannot shed
bias in its entirety and when drawing from the Unnamed it is important to keep this is mind.

In “creating” (I prefer the term “identifying”) spirits,
one inextricably leaves one’s impression, but the goal is to mediate influence:
the Unnamed is a living (if not in
the conventional sense) medium, comprised of forms which possess their own
character. In identifying these forms, one should never seek to impose, but to negotiate.
We are apes with limited perceptive capabilities (additionally, in the West, we
place the visual above all else), and as such limit the Unnamed’s expression. This is unavoidable, a bias inescapable, and
so it is fine in that it must be. Generally,
however, one should always strive to allow spirit to shape itself freely,
especially when working with something so volatile as divinity. In short, one
should not sculpt nor subject
divinity, the Unnamed, only create
the stage on which it might perform itself. And all with the knowledge that
what one “sees,” “hears,” “smells,” etc. on that stage is communicative and
limited: the layered realities of the divine cannot be wholly expressed through
human sense alone, and thus what is perceived is only part (or perhaps “a shadow”
should definition be left to Plato) of a greater, predominately incomprehensible
whole.

With this in mind, a reader may wonder if the
following process – taking undefined divinity then defining it – is some exercise
in creating a god. The answer being a resolute ‘no.’ If gods derive power from
the ascriptions and adorations (alternately detestations) of humanity, then the
possession of one tentative “devotee” does not a god make. Instead what is
named is something else entirely. Something not lacking potential but
dispossessed of the great power typically expressed by the divine. It must be
situated, it must draw its power from something else: a force of nature, a plot
of land, an emotion, etc., it must be given a name and it must be paid,
otherwise it will slip back through the liminal curves separating the Known
from the Unknown, disembodied and nebulous. After being named, after being
known, situated and paid in offerings, it might retain its form and provisional
‘existence.’ Should this thing, even possessing of name, be long neglected it
will meet the same fate of dissolution, at which point to call on it would
manifest only the shadow of ‘a shadow.’

With that being said, I turn now to the process by
which such a feat might be accomplished. As per usual, I must insist that this
is only one of many ways to ‘skin a cat,’ if you would, and even I do not use
this method exclusively. However, I do find this to be the easiest, even for
those lacking an artistic disposition. While drawing is part of the process, it
is only to occupy the hands and free the mind, utilizing something akin to practice
of Surrealist automatism. I include
only one method with this introduction, but may include others in the future,
thus I leave the final number open-ended.

Method #1/?

• Gather
  supplies. I keep a journal-sized, unlined sketchbook and I
  find it the most suitable. On the right-hand page I perform my automatism, leaving the left open for ‘translation’
  or interpretation. Loose paper, canvas, a wall, it doesn’t matter, just so long
  as you have space to write, draw, etc. However, being that these items might be
  taken to different locations, portability is key. You will also need something
  to mark with: ink, paint, chalk, graphite, whatever, though I recommend
  something fast drying and/or not prone to smudging. Ball point of felt tip pens
  are my personal favorites, color being applied later if desired.
• Find
  a suitable location. Ideally such practices should be
  performed in liminal spaces, or those which feel ‘full’ or ‘thin,’ depending on
  how one prefers to describe them. I enjoy a measure of isolation, though such
  is not necessary and performing automatism
  is rather inconspicuous, thus could just as easily be done in a crowded train
  station as on a remote mountain top. Consider the mood of a place and be
  knowledgeable of how it might affect results. I favor nature, places that are ‘thin,’
  serene and isolated. Cosmic events and time of the day can also influence results;
  thus, I urge one to consider these as well. While the ‘work’ will be done on
  paper, the surroundings are just as important: ‘what can be heard?’ ‘what is
  happening around me?’ ‘how does this make me feel?’ are all things to be
  considered and jotted in the margins.
• Begin.
  Commit to the working: be present and conscious of what it is you are
  undertaking. Push to the fray and allow spirit to take shape, letting your hand
  move freely to follow. It is at this point I encourage you to remember that the
  process is not imposition (nor “pure psychic automatism”), but negotiation.
  This is not automatic drawing in that the hand is wholly free and the ‘work’ devoid
  of conscious intervention, but a meeting of the conscious and subconscious. The
  spirit does not form on the page nor does it guide the hand, it takes shape in
  the mind. The hand is but a tool, recording what is seen and translating it to
  paper. It is inherently impressionistic, and, as aforementioned, divinity is a
  volatile essence. Record what is seen, let forms overlap as they change, let
  lines intersect and overlay. The goal is not to produce a portrait in one
  instant, but one spanning the entirety of separation of the Seen from the
  Unseen. ‘My’ spirits always settle into anthropomorphic shape, a reflection of
  my anthropocentric bias (‘I create god in mine own image’). It should not be
  assumed that the image recorded is a lasting one, as any who work with spirits
  know, shape and physiognomy are of little meaning without permeance. Over time,
  symbolic associations and identifiable feature will ‘harden,’ embodying a spiritual
  ‘signature’ by which the Named might be defined.
• ‘Translate.’
  Record – in writing – what happened. Search the image for meaning and explore
  possibilities, incorporating elements from the setting (as mentioned above).
  The goal is not to define at length the spirit’s purpose, but to give a cursory
  attempt at decoding that which they provided. Again, with time and additional
  workings the form will become more concrete, will develop into an individual
  with preferences and taboos of their own. This step can occasionally involve
  research, i.e. some of the Unnamed
  have shown me constellations with which I was previously unfamiliar or shown me
  symbols – in the broad term, not necessarily logographic – which had other meanings
  than those I often ascribe. This step is one of exploration and consideration,
  something that should be returned to again and again. Note all possible
  hypotheses you can manage, as they may serve you well at a later point. While
  it sounds cruel, it is also at this stage that you may choose to continue on
  (to name the spirit) or forgo the process and let the essence return to the Unnamed. I confess that most times I
  choose the latter, focusing my studies foremost on how these pieces shape
  themselves and noting my own influence on the process.
• Grounding.
  Before
  a Name is given, it is important to ground the spirit. This is a process I have
  written about before (see The Spirit Snare; The Spirit Vessel), by which you
  connect the spirit to a physical object. In this case, I recommend something
  small and portable that can be carried with you for some time. This will allow
  the spirit something to ‘hold onto’ while at once offering the same to the
  practitioner: it links the pair, allowing the spirit to contain itself while at
  once allowing practitioner to become familiar with the spirit as it ‘solidifies.’
  While in the Spirit Snare I wrote of how to ‘snatch’ a spirit to serve a
  function, this process is different due to the nature of the Unnamed (at
  large). The ambient energy discussed in the former is stable (or at the very
  least more so) than that of the
  Unnamed, thus the latter requires time to not only form properly but be studied
  and explored thoroughly. Should you desire to expedite the process of its ‘solidification’
  (while forgoing the bonding facilitated by proximity), grounding it to a piece
  of land, a tree, something with life and power of its own may do so, however I
  have never tried and cannot speak to the results.
• Formal
  Naming. It is only at which point that the Unnamed is wholly
  grounded, is developed, that the formal naming process should be undergone. In
  the meantime, the practitioner may give the spirit an informal pet or nick
  name, while the formal name will be a concerted effort. Only once you are familiar
  with the spirit and it with itself, might you both consider a Name. Again, this
  process needs to be a joint one. While usually a name comes quickly,
  occasionally some back-and-forth is required. It can take weeks, even longer,
  to finally land on a name that seems ‘right’ to both spirit and practitioner.
  Do not rush the process, it will come organically or it will avoid coming at
  all. Once decided upon, take the curio with which the spirit was grounded and
  transfer it to a more formalized home, such as the aforementioned spirit
  vessel, a statue, something sturdy and lasting. It is at this period one might
  consider grounding the spirit to a plot of land, a tree, a stream, etc. from
  which it could derive power. This does not require the same proximity as the
  first curio, for with a formal Name the spirit can be called upon from any
  distance. While transferring the spirit, speak its Name. You might consider
  fashioning a seal to paint onto or carve into the object, or a sigil which is
  comprised of its name. If you belong to a group who practices naming
  ceremonies, I recommend performing something similar for the spirit.
• Offerings.
  Finish the transfer and Naming process with offerings. Blood is life and it is
  power, thus an animal sacrifice is ideal. However, spirits vary, so offer what
  it is the spirit likes and/or associates itself with, while at once avoiding
  its taboos. Should the appropriate amount of time have been spent with the
  spirit before the naming, this should be simple, and if the spirit has become
  one of great importance to you, it is nice to splurge for some good stuff.
  Offerings should be made regularly (it might be good to mark the naming day and
  give special offerings annually), especially if connected to something
  inanimate.
• Maintain the relationship. As you are likely the sole ‘devotee’
  or friend of this spirit, you alone will be responsible for its growth and maintenance,
  lest it be lost once more to the Unnamed. Work together often and make
  offerings regularly. Once established, the Named spirit might be called to
  serve the practitioner with all things falling in (and adjacent) to its
  dominion.

photo source: Masson, Automatic Drawing, 1924