The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Essential Aspects of Consciousness for the Present and the Future II

[ 1 ] Before I continue next week with drawing conclusions from the reflections we made here eight days ago, I will today present some points that are only seemingly unrelated—but are in fact closely connected—and that are intended to tie in with the character of our Dornach building.

[ 2 ] This building in Dornach is intended to, through its very nature, become an integral part of the spiritual development of humanity, as we have come to understand it, beginning in the present, and as we must assume it will continue to unfold in the future of human development. We have, after all, attempted to shed light on the characteristic nature of this present-future development—which so far exists only in embryonic form—from a wide variety of perspectives. Today we would like to consider briefly how the true aims of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science are expressed through the building in Dornach, which is to be dedicated to it.

[ 3 ] One can, in a sense, view current developments from the outside, just as those people are accustomed to doing who have oriented their entire understanding and worldview toward such a purely external perspective. But especially in the present, there is every reason to also view what is actually happening from an inner, spiritual perspective. For what is happening today—what has been in the making for a long time, and what is destined to continue into the future in a manner quite different from how it is happening today—can only be truly understood when viewed from a spiritual perspective. I would like to begin with something that appears to be quite material, but which I intend to use to illustrate how the impulses at work in the present—which are always around us—can also be viewed from a spiritual perspective.

[ 4 ] Among those who have, at times—though not very often—formed a general picture of events over the past few decades are engineers. And several decades ago now, in 1884, Releaux, the engineer, once offered some thoughts—from his materialistic perspective—in a reflection on the characteristic features of the contemporary cultural landscape. At that time, he divided contemporary humanity into two groups. He called one group those people who adhere to a “naturalistic” way of life; he classified the other group as those he described as having a “manganistic” way of life—and he derived the term “manganistic” from magic, from that which attempts to intervene in people’s way of life through the forces of the universe. I would now like to briefly address this classification of humanity as a starting point for today’s reflection.

[ 5 ] In earlier times, virtually all people were naturists, and the vast majority of people still are today. The smaller portion—primarily people of European culture, specifically Central and Western European culture, and people of American culture—are manganist. One need only note that what is called naturalist culture still extends into the present. It is significant that so-called manganist culture has only gradually developed—in fact, only within the last century—to any real extent. I would say that the most paradoxical result of this newer culture is that it has, in effect, artificially introduced far more human presence into the Earth than the actual number of people walking the Earth. This is due to the fact that, over the course of the last few decades, the mechanical—the machine—has undergone an immense expansion among the smaller portion of humanity. You will, of course, agree with me when I say that a large portion of the work performed today is carried out by machines; but you may still be a little surprised when one calculates—and it can be calculated quite accurately—just how great a volume of work, which replaces human labor, is actually performed by machines. One can calculate this by looking at how many millions of metric tons of coal are consumed annually, which are then transformed into mechanical power. And if one expresses the amount of human labor replaced by this coal transported across the earth in terms of the number of people who would be needed to perform this work, one would find: No fewer than five hundred forty million people would be required for this, and these five hundred forty million would have to work a twelve-hour day to accomplish what is accomplished by the machine. One could therefore say: In truth, it is not at all correct that there are only five thousand one hundred million people on our Earth; rather, there are five hundred forty million more on Earth. They exist in greater numbers than those actually walking around in the flesh simply because a smaller portion of humanity performs this work—which is not natural but manganistic—that is actually carried out by the machine, by the mechanism. In fact, over the last century, the human population on Earth has not merely increased as the statistics indicate, but to such an extent that an additional five hundred forty million human labor forces must be added to the count. And I can say this: We Europeans and Americans—though this is still of little relevance for Eastern Europe—are surrounded by work that constantly permeates our daily lives, more than one might think, and simply replaces human labor.

[ 6 ] Now, people in the West are extremely proud of this achievement, and it is emphasized that if one compares purely what is accomplished by machines with the achievements of the far more numerous people who do not yet make sufficient use of mechanical technology—who still live more in harmony with nature—one finds a very significant surplus of productivity among the European and American populations compared to the rest of humanity. We can therefore say: If the work performed by machines were to be done by people, then five hundred and forty million people would have to work twelve hours a day. — That is a great deal. But it also represents, as you know, the impressive achievement of modern world culture. This impressive achievement of modern world culture has various consequences.

[ 7 ] If you want to gain insight into what lies at the root of this, you need only consider a single example where naturalistic culture still has a very, very strong influence on our modern culture. This is the case, for example, with the matchstick. The younger among us may not remember, but the older ones will surely recall the days when matches were not yet widely used, and when people used steel and flint to ignite the tinder in order to start a fire. But this leads back to a much older method of producing fire: the fire drill, where—through the direct application of great human effort—the amount of fire that is produced today by matches had to be generated by turning a drill into wood. If you compare this latter naturalistic form with today’s, you will be able to bring something else to mind. You will be able to say to yourself: The entire manganistic culture has something particularly peculiar about it; namely, it renders the active laws—which were once close to human beings—invisible to them to a high degree. It pushes the active laws into the background. — Take this original method of making fire, for example: How intimately connected was this work, which human beings undertook, with their very person and their personal effort! What arose directly as fire—how closely was it linked to personal achievement! That has been pushed aside. Since today the physical, mechanical, or chemical process has taken its place, we are dealing with a separation of the actual natural process—in which spiritual forces are also at work—from what human beings do directly. Today you will very often hear the statement that, through this newer technology, humanity has compelled the forces of nature to serve it. This statement is certainly well-founded from one perspective, but it is highly one-sided and incomplete. For in everything that mechanical power accomplishes—which I also wish to apply in a broader sense through its conversion into chemical energy—not only has the power of nature been brought into the service of humanity, but the natural process is pushed aside in its deeper connections with the actual impulses of the world. Through mechanization, the sight of natural processes themselves is gradually being taken away from human beings. Thus, technology not only forces natural processes into the service of humanity, but it also pushes something away from human beings. Technology spreads a lifeless quality over living nature; the living element, which formerly flowed directly from nature into human work, is pushed away from human beings. If you consider that human beings are actually extracting the lifeless from nature in order to introduce it into manganistic culture, then it will no longer be very surprising when I now link spiritual science to what the mere technician says.

[ 8 ] The engineer Reuleaux emphasizes that humanity’s recent progress—rightly so, from his point of view—is based on the fact that the forces of nature have been harnessed in the service of human culture. Above all, however, we must first turn our attention to the fact that we are dealing with mechanisms that actually replace human labor. This is not merely a process that is limited to what can be perceived by the senses; rather, this process—the creation of five hundred and forty million “ideal” human beings on Earth—has a very significant spiritual aspect. Human power has crystallized in all that has come into being; human intellect, so to speak, has flowed into all of this and is at work within it—but only human intellect. We are surrounded by such an intellect, detached from the human being. The moment we detach from humanity something that is by nature connected to it, those forces that we have described in our spiritual science as Ahrimanic immediately take possession of all of this. These five hundred and forty million ideal beings on Earth are, at the same time, just as many vessels for Ahrimanic forces, for the forces of Ahriman. This must not be overlooked. Thus, you will find that the purely external progress of our culture is bound up with the Ahrimanic forces—the very same forces that, so to speak, are actually inherent in the nature of Mephistopheles, for that is, after all, similar to the nature of Ahriman. But in the universe, one-sidedness never arises without the corresponding opposite also arising; one pole never arises without the other pole arising alongside it. Alongside this Ahrimanic force, which arises on Earth in the material forms of industry and so on—in machines—there arises an equal measure of Luciferic force—but now in the spiritual realm. The Ahrimanic never arises on its own; rather, to the same extent that it manifests visibly on Earth, as I have just described, a Luciferic element arises, interwoven throughout this entire culture, which is thus permeated by the Ahrimanic. To the same extent that human beings come into being on Earth and Ahrimanic culture crystallizes on Earth, the spiritual correlates work their way into the human will, into human volition, into human impulses, into human passions, and into human moods. Here on Earth, the Ahrimanic machine—in the spiritual current in which we are placed, there is a Luciferic spirit being for every machine! As we create our machines, we descend into the dead realm—which is therefore only outwardly quite visible—into Ahrimanic culture. Like a mirror image, a Luciferic culture arises invisibly alongside this entire Ahrimanic culture. This means that to the same extent that machines come into being, humanity on Earth is permeated by Luciferic moods in its morality, its ethos, and its social impulses. One cannot arise without the other. This is how the world is constituted.

[ 9 ] From this we can see that it can never be a matter of saying, “I flee from Ahriman”—but neither can you say, “I flee from Lucifer.” — You can only speak of the fact that such a state, in which Ahrimanic and Luciferic forces arise in opposition to one another, is necessarily linked to the culture of humanity as it continues to develop today. From a spiritual perspective, this is what is at work in our culture, and starting from the present, we must view things more and more from a spiritual perspective.

[ 10 ] Now it is very strange that Reuleaux, the engineer, when he raved back then about humanity’s “manganistic” progress—which was entirely justified from his point of view, for I emphasize this again and again: spiritual science has no reason to be reactionary—when he emphasized this, he simultaneously pointed to various other things, Above all, he pointed out that modern humanity, which has been placed in such a new world—especially those of European and American culture—necessarily requires greater strength to cultivate spiritual life than the people of the past, who still lived within a nature-centered culture and, through their own labor, were close to the intimacies of nature. Of course, he did not speak of Luciferic and Ahrimanic forces; he merely described what I have outlined at the beginning of my reflection today; you will surely be able to distinguish between what I have added and what the engineer, who lives in today’s materialistic world, has to say. Reuleaux, for example, pointed out how art, if it is to continue to flourish, requires stronger impulses for aesthetic laws than were necessary in the past during its more instinctive development. But a curious belief underlay the technician’s view. It was the naïve belief expressed in the words: it is necessary for the soul to immerse itself more intensely in the aesthetic laws of art—in the face of the onslaught of the art-destroying machine, as he calmly admitted—than was previously the case. But the naivety lay in the fact that the technician had no idea that there must then be more intense, more impulsive artistic forces at work, penetrating the human soul, than the old ones had been. The misunderstanding lay in the fact that, while one may well have recognized that technology is storming against everything humanity had previously created from the spiritual realm, one nevertheless believed that balance could be restored simply through an intense immersion in the old spiritual forces. It cannot do this; it truly cannot. Rather, it is necessary that, as human culture steps out onto the physical plane, other, stronger, more spiritual forces also intervene once again in our spiritual life; otherwise, humanity would inevitably—even if it may theoretically resist it—fall prey to materialism.

[ 11 ] You may see from this that, starting indeed from the impulses of our contemporary culture itself and by considering the inner nature of our present development, one can arrive at the conclusion that art must receive a new impulse; a new impulse must flow into art. And if we are convinced that our anthroposophically oriented spiritual science aims to be a new impulse for humanity’s ancient spiritual culture, then this premise is necessarily linked to the fact that art as such must also receive a new impulse.

[ 12 ] This has been attempted, as a starting point—and, of course, with all its imperfections—by the Dornach Building. Its imperfection is acknowledged from the outset. It is, after all, a first attempt. But perhaps there is good reason to believe that it is the first step on a path that must lead further. Others who follow us—who will be working long after we ourselves are no longer in physical bodies—may do it better. The impetus for the Dornach building, however, had to be given in the present. For one can only truly understand the building if one does not apply an absolute standard, but rather familiarizes oneself a little with the history of this building. And I would like to start from this point, because misunderstandings of this nature are repeatedly directed at us.

[ 13 ] You know that, beginning in 1909, our work in Munich has been linked to the staging of certain mystery plays, which were intended to bring to life, through artistic and dramatic means, the forces at work in our worldview. As a result, lecture series—which were always very well attended—grew up around the artistic performances in Munich, and this led our friends in Munich to come up with the idea of creating a dedicated venue for our spiritual endeavors in Munich. This initiative did not come from me, but from our friends in Munich. I ask you to note this clearly. The building truly arose from the observation that a certain number of our friends lacked sufficient space, and it goes without saying that if the idea of erecting such a building existed at all, one had to consider designing it in accordance with our worldview. In Munich, it was to be designed in such a way that it would have required only interior architecture. For the building was to be surrounded by a number of houses that would have been inhabited by friends who had the opportunity to settle there. These houses would have framed the building, which could have looked as unattractive as possible, since it would not have been visible from “the houses.” Thus, the entire building was conceived as interior architecture. Interior architecture in such a case only makes sense if it serves as a frame, an enclosure for what happens inside. But it must be artistic. It must truly—not merely depict, but artistically express—what happens inside. That is why I have—perhaps trivially, but not inaccurately—always compared the architectural concept of our building to that of a “Gugelhupf,” a tube cake. The cake pan is made so that the cake can be baked inside it, and the shape of the Gugelhupf pan is correct when it properly encloses the cake and allows it to rise. This “Gugelhupf pan” here serves as the framework for the entire operation of our spiritual science, our spiritual-scientific art, and everything that is spoken, heard, and felt within it. All of this is the cake, and everything else is the pan, and this had to be expressed in the interior design. That is how the interior design had to be conceived from the outset. Well, the concept was in place. But after we had made various efforts to bring it to fruition on the site that had already been acquired in Munich, we initially encountered resistance—not from the police or political authorities, but from the Munich artistic community—and in such a way that it became clear: people were not happy with what we wanted to establish in Munich; yet they did not say what they themselves wanted. Consequently, we could have kept making new changes, and this could have gone on for decades. So we eventually felt compelled to abandon the idea of realizing the project in Munich and instead use a building site in Solothurn that one of our friends had made available to us. As a result, the project came about in such a way that construction was undertaken in the canton of Solothurn—specifically in Dornach near Basel, on a hill. This meant the surrounding houses were no longer there; the building had to be visible from all sides. And then the drive arose—we had become eager to get the project done quickly. And without completely rethinking the finished concept that had been devised for the interior design, the only option open to me was to try to integrate the exterior architecture with the interior design that had already been drafted. As a result, various shortcomings crept into the building, which I know better than anyone else. But that is not the main point. The main point is that, as I have indicated, a start was made on such a project.

[ 14 ] Now I would like to at least hint at a few thoughts intended to clarify what makes this building unique, so that you may understand its connection to our entire spiritual scientific or spiritual movement as a whole.

[ 15 ] The first thing that will strike anyone who looks at this building without prejudice is that the enclosing walls of the structure are conceived in an entirely different way than is usually the case with buildings. The wall that encloses a building has, in essence, been conceived—in everything that has been built to date—artistically, that is, from an artistic perspective, as a closure of space. Walls, boundary walls, are always conceived as enclosing space, and all architectural and artistic work on the walls is connected to this idea that the wall—the exterior wall—encloses. This idea—that the exterior wall encloses a space, not physically, of course, but artistically—is subverted in the Dornach building. What appears as an exterior wall in this building is not conceived to enclose the space, but rather to open the space toward the entire universe, the macrocosm. Thus, anyone inside this space should, through the form created by the walls, have the feeling that the space—in its very essence—expands through the walls into the macrocosm, into the universe. Everything is meant to represent connections with the universe. This is how the pure wall is conceived in its form; this is how the columns that accompany the walls at regular intervals are conceived; this is how the entire sculptural work—the columns with their bases, architraves, capitals, and so on—is conceived. Thus, a spiritually transparent wall—in contrast to a wall that spiritually encloses the space—is the intention. One should feel free within the infinity of the universe. Of course, when one does anything that is to take place in this space, one must physically enclose oneself; but one can then shape the forms of this physical enclosure in such a way that they negate themselves through the artistic treatment.

[ 16 ] Everything else is actually related to this. The symmetrical relationships we usually find in buildings had to be dissolved under the influence of this architectural concept. The Dornach building actually has only a single axis of symmetry, and it runs exactly from west to east. And everything is arranged along this single axis of symmetry. The columns, which run along the wall at regular intervals, therefore do not have identical capitals; rather, only the capitals and other design elements of the two columns on the left and right are identical to one another. So when you walk through the main gate into the building, you first come to the first two identical columns. Here, the capital, base, and architrave design are identical. As one proceeds to the second pair of columns, the column pair, capital, and architrave design are different. And so it continues along the entire length of the building. This made it possible to introduce evolution into the motifs of the capitals and bases. The capital of the next column always evolves from the capital of the preceding one, just as a more organically perfect form develops from a less organically perfect one. What is otherwise present in symmetrical uniformity is dissolved into a continuous evolution.

[ 17 ] The entire structure consists of two main sections—the rest are ancillary buildings—two main sections that essentially have a circular floor plan and are topped by domes. However, the domes are designed to interlock—that is, to interlock along a segment of a circle—so that the floor plans are not formed by complete circles, but by incomplete ones. A segment of a circle is left out at the front of a smaller room, and the other circle of the large room—the larger circle—joins on to this missing segment.

[ 18 ] The entire structure is designed so that there are two cylinders, one with a larger diameter and the other with a smaller one. The larger cylinder houses the auditorium; the other, smaller cylinder is intended for the performance of the Mysteries and other events. Where the two circles converge, the speaker’s podium and the curtain will be located. As a result, however, the two domes merge into one another. This has never been done before. It was also an interesting technical feat: to have two domes merge and intersect. The entire structure is a wooden building resting on a concrete foundation. The concrete foundation actually only supports the dressing rooms, and visitors then ascend a few concrete steps. The actual wooden structure now rises above the concrete foundation.

[ 19 ] Along the wall of the large cylinder, which is located beneath the larger dome, there are seven columns on each side; in the smaller room, there are six columns on each side; so that in the smaller room—which is thus a kind of stage area—there are twelve columns arranged in a circle, and in the large room, fourteen columns arranged in a circle. And as one moves around in a circle, the sculptural motifs of these columns unfold. The way these motifs develop on the columns surprised even me as I was working on them. When I made the model of the structure, as I was shaping the columns with their capitals, I was very surprised by one thing. The structure is not in the least bit permeated by anything symbolic. The people who described the building and said that all sorts of symbols were incorporated into it, and that the anthroposophists worked with symbols, are wrong. There is not a single symbol, as people understand it, in the entire structure. Rather, the whole is conceived from the overall form, conceived purely artistically. So it means—if I were to use the term “mean” in a negative sense—that it does not represent anything it is not, artistically speaking; so that this continuous development of the capital motifs and the architrave motifs is created purely from observation, one form emerging from another. And as I developed one form from another in this way, a representation of evolution—true evolution, not the Darwinian conception—emerged quite naturally, just as it does in nature. This was not intentional. But it emerged so naturally that I could recognize in it—I was myself surprised that it turned out this way—how certain organs, for example in humans, are simpler than in a certain order of the lower animal kingdom. I have often pointed out the fact that evolution does not consist in things becoming more complicated; the human eye, for example, is more perfect precisely because it is simpler than the eye of animals, because it, in turn, strives toward simplicity. With these motifs as well, I found that, starting with the fourth motif, a simplification was necessary. What is more perfect turns out to be precisely what is simpler.

[ 20 ] But that wasn’t the only thing that surprised me. What did surprise me was that when I compared the first column with the seventh, the second with the sixth, and the third with the fifth, strange correspondences emerged. When working as a sculptor, one naturally has raised and recessed surfaces. These were shaped purely out of intuition, out of visual perception. But when I took the capital and the base of the seventh column, I was able—by mentally breaking down the whole—to align the raised surfaces of the seventh column with the recesses of the first, and the recesses of the seventh with the raised surfaces of the first. The raised surfaces of the first column fit exactly into the recesses of the seventh column. I am, of course, speaking in terms of convex and concave forms. An inner symmetry—which is not an outer one—emerged as something entirely self-evident. Through this, the transformation and the sculptural elaboration of that transformation actually gave rise to something like a setting the architecture in motion and bringing the sculpture to rest. It is all at once a wooden sculpture and, at the same time, architecture.

[ 21 ] The entire structure rests on a concrete foundation that now features motifs on the inside which will initially surprise even the people who enter it. After all—and this goes without saying—one enters with preconceived notions and judges it based on what one has already seen. That’s when certain things stand out. Some who didn’t know what to make of it have said: “A futuristic building has been erected in Dornach.” The forms of the concrete structure are conceived both in terms of the new material—concrete—and in terms of the artistic form that arises from this new material. But within the concrete framework, an attempt has also been made to create column-like supports. It became evident of its own accord that they resemble elemental beings—gnome-like figures sprouting from the earth with fissured skin—that simultaneously bear the structure; so that one sees: It bears the weight; yet it bears a part that is heavier, pushing it and pulling it back—unlike a part that is lighter. — That is the wooden substructure.

[ 22 ] Now, something arose for the Dornach building—the need to install windows—that would not have arisen in Munich if the project had been solely about interior design. If you want to understand the windows, I ask that you first try to grasp the entire concept of the wooden structure. As it stands, it is not yet art—or at least not yet a work of art. It is a work of art in terms of its columns, walls, and sculptural design. The whole—which is not meant to have any decorative character, nor should it be conceived in a decorative sense—is actually such that the person viewing it must experience certain feelings and thoughts with every line and every surface design. One must, after all, follow the lines and surface design with one’s eyes. One follows it with the perceiving eye. What one experiences in the soul as one lets one’s gaze wander along the artwork—that is what actually constitutes the artwork in terms of the wooden sculpture. It actually comes into being only within the human mind. The concrete foundation and the wooden section are the preparation for the artwork. In fact, the human being must first construct the work of art within themselves through the enjoyment of the forms. This is therefore, so to speak, the most spiritual part of the structure. What is carved into the wood is the most spiritual part of the structure. What emerges as a work of art is truly present only when the receptive soul of the listener or the speaker is present within. — It thus became necessary to install windows, always one window in each section between two columns. For these windows, the design concept in question made it necessary to develop a unique glass technique. Single-colored glass panes were used, and the corresponding motifs were etched into them, so that we have here stained-glass windows created through glass etching. Using the same instrument that a dentist uses on a small scale when drilling a tooth—and the same material—the areas to be etched were removed from the thick glass panel to create varying thicknesses of the glass. These varying thicknesses of the glass defined the motifs. Each individual glass panel is monochromatic; the colors are arranged so that their sequence creates harmony. The building will always have a window of the same color on either side of the axis of symmetry, proceeding from the entrance, so that a harmony of colors will be created in progression. But here, the work of art—the window as a work of art—is not yet complete. It is only complete when the sun shines through; so that here, within the system of the stained-glass windows, something has been created in which living nature, which is outside, must interact with the etched glass for the work of art to come into being. Etched onto the glass panels, you will find much of the content of our spiritual science, always viewed imaginatively: the dreaming human being, the waking human being in their essence, various mysteries of creation, and so on. All of this is not presented in symbols, but in visual imagery; everything is conceived artistically, but is only complete when the sun shines through. So here too, where a different means had to be employed to transcend space through its own enclosure, the same endeavor has been undertaken. With wood, and in its architecture and sculpture, the attempt is made to transcend space—and lead beyond it—through forms that are purely spiritual, in intuition. On a more sensually concrete level, this begins with the windows. There, the connection with the translucent sunlight that shines in from the cosmos and permeates our visible world is an integral part of the whole. These two aspects would thus correspond primarily to a spiritual element. In the case of the window, what emerges as a work of art—as a spiritual element—is brought about from the outside by the interplay of light and etched glass; whereas in the case of the wooden sculpture, it is the spiritual that is experienced within the human soul itself as a work of art.

[ 23 ] The third part consists of the paintings that adorn the dome. The motifs of these paintings, too, are drawn from our spiritual-scientific worldview. There one will find, expressed through painting, the essence of our worldview—at least over a certain vast macrocosmic span of time. Here, if I may put it that way, you have the physical aspect of the matter; for in painting, for certain inner reasons—which would take too long to explain today—one can only directly depict what one intends to depict. The color itself must express what it is meant to express; the same goes for the lines. Thus, through the content alone, an attempt is made to reach out into the macrocosm, to transcend the boundaries of the dome’s walls. So it is through the content that one reaches out there. Everything that actually belongs to the macrocosm is painted into it. As a result, what is meant is physically present before the eye. We attempted to bring out the luminosity necessary for painting these motifs by trying to produce colors from pure plant substances that possess their own specific luminosity. Of course, not everything turned out as well as it could have if the war had not intervened. But this, too, is only a beginning. Naturally, the entire style of painting had to correspond to our conception. After all, by painting the spiritual content of the world, we are not dealing with figures that one imagines illuminated from a light source, but with self-luminous figures. So a completely different approach to painting had to be incorporated here. For example, when one paints a person’s aura, one does not paint it the same way one paints a physical figure. A physical figure is painted by distributing light and shadow in the way the light source illuminates the object. With the aura, on the other hand, one is dealing with a self-luminous object. This gives the painting a completely different character.

[ 24 ] So, in broad strokes—as far as one can describe it without an illustration—this is what the building is intended to be. The entire structure, as I said, is arranged from west to east, so that the axis of symmetry runs between the columns, from west to east, and intersects the small cylinder—that is, the stage area—at its eastern boundary. There, facing east, between the sixth column on the right and the sixth column on the left, stands a sculptural group. This group, in turn, is intended to artistically represent—I would say—the most intimate aspect of our spiritual-scientific worldview. It is meant to represent what must necessarily be integrated into the human spiritual perception of the present and into the future. Humanity must learn to understand that everything that is important for the shaping of the world and for human life flows into these three currents: in a sense, the normal spiritual current into which the human being is woven, then the Luciferic current, and the Ahrimanic current. Divine development, Luciferic development, and Ahrimanic development are woven into everything—both the foundations of the physical world and the manifestations of spiritual events. However, this is to be grasped not symbolically but artistically, and expressed in our sculptural group. A wooden sculpture group. An idea has occurred to me—one I believe I have grasped in concept, though its rationale, particularly in its occult underpinnings, has not yet become clear to me; future occult research will likely reveal this. It seems absolutely certain, however, that all ancient motifs are better rendered in stone or metal, and all Christian motifs—and ours is, in the truest sense, a Christian motif—are better rendered in wood. I can only say: I have always felt it necessary that the sculpture in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome—Michelangelo’s Pietà—be reimagined in wood; for only then, I believe, would it truly represent what it is meant to represent; just as I had to reimagine other Christian sculptures that I found in stone in wood. There is certainly something underlying this; I have not yet arrived at the reasons themselves. Thus, our sculpture had to be conceived and executed in wood.

[ 25 ] The main figure is a kind of representative of humanity, a being intended to depict humankind in its divine revelation. I am satisfied if someone who looks at this figure has the feeling: this is a depiction of Christ Jesus. But even this seemed unartistic to me if I had based it on the impulse: “I want to create a Christ Jesus.” I wanted to depict what is there. What the viewer then experiences—whether it is a Christ Jesus—must be the result. I would be quite happy if everyone experienced that. But that is not the artistic idea of depicting a Christ Jesus. The artistic idea rests purely in the artistic form, in the shaping of the figures; the other is a novelistic or programmatic idea—to depict Christ Jesus. The artistic lives in the form, at least when it is a visual art. — A central figure—the entire group is eight and a half meters high—stands slightly elevated, with rocks behind it and rocks beneath it. From the rock below, which is slightly hollowed out, an Ahriman figure emerges. It is inside a rock cave, half-reclining, with its head facing upward. The main figure stands on this slightly hollowed-out rock. Above the Ahriman figure and to the viewer’s left, a second Ahriman emerges from the rock, so that the Ahriman figure is repeated. Above the Ahriman figure, again to the left of the viewer, is a figure of Lucifer. A kind of artistic connection is created between Lucifer and the Ahriman below. Just above that, above the main figure, to the right of the viewer, there is also a figure of Lucifer. Lucifer is thus also present twice. This other Lucifer is broken within himself and is plummeting downward as a result of this inner fracture. The right hand of the central figure points downward, the left hand upward. This left hand, pointing upward, indicates the point of rupture in Lucifer; it is precisely there that he splits in two and plummets downward. The central figure’s right hand and right arm point toward the lower Ahriman and drive him to despair. The whole scene is conceived—I hope you will be able to sense this—so that this central figure is not in any way aggressive; rather, the gesture I described contains nothing but love. But neither Lucifer nor Ahriman can tolerate this love. Christ does not fight against Ahriman, but radiates love; yet neither Lucifer nor Ahriman can allow love to come near them. Through the proximity of love, one of them—Ahriman—feels despair, a sense of being consumed from within, and Lucifer falls. Thus, what is expressed in their gestures lies within them—within Lucifer and Ahriman. |

[ 26 ] The figures were, of course, not easy to create for the simple reason that one is dealing with the spiritual—in the case of the main character, partly spiritual, but in the case of Lucifer and Ahriman, purely spiritual—and in sculpture, it is most difficult to give form to the spiritual. Nevertheless, an attempt was made to achieve what was necessary, especially for our purposes: to dissolve the form—even though it had to remain an artistic form—entirely into gesture and expression. After all, human beings are actually only capable of using gesture and expression in a very limited sense. Lucifer and Ahriman are entirely gesture and entirely expression. Spiritual forms have no fixed shape; there is no finished spiritual form. If you want to sculpt the spirit, you are in the same situation as if you wanted to sculpt a bolt of lightning. The form that a spirit has in one moment is different from that in the next. One must take this into account. But if one were to try to capture a spiritual form for a single moment, just as one depicts a figure at rest, then one would achieve nothing; one would have only a frozen form. In such a case, one must therefore depict the gesture in its entirety. Thus, in the case of Lucifer and Ahriman, the gesture is reproduced in its entirety, and to some extent this also had to be attempted for the middle figure, who is, of course, a physical figure: Jesus Christ.

[ 27 ] Now I would like to show you a few images that can give you, on a small scale and as best as possible, an idea of this main group. The first is the head of Ahriman, specifically in the form in which he first appeared to me: a human being—think here of the threefold division of the human being into head, trunk, and limb—who is entirely head, and who is therefore also the instrument of the most perfect intelligence, understanding, and cunning. This is to be expressed in the figure of Ahriman. The head of Ahriman, as you see it here, is truly spirit, if I may use that paradoxical expression; but you know how paradoxes often arise when one characterizes something spiritually. It is indeed modeled after the original, true to the spirit, and artistically true to nature. Ahriman had to be “seated” in order for this to be achieved.

[ 28 ] The next figure is to be Lucifer, as he appears on the left side from the viewer’s perspective. To understand Lucifer, you must imagine—in a very peculiar way—what appears as the spiritual form of Lucifer. Imagine the most Ahrimanic aspect of the human being stripped of the human form—that is, the head removed—but instead imagine the ears and the auricles, the outer ear, greatly enlarged, naturally spiritualized, and formed into wings, shaped into a single organ; this organ, however, is wrapped around the body, with the laryngeal wings likewise expanded; so that head, wings, and ears together form a single organ. And the wings—the main organ—are what constitute the form of Lucifer. Lucifer is an expanded larynx, a larynx that becomes a complete form, from which a connection to the ear then develops through a kind of wing, so that one must imagine: Lucifer is a figure that receives the music of the spheres, taking it into this ear-wing organism; and without the individuality having a say, the universe itself—the music of the spheres—expresses itself through the very same organ, which is transformed forward into the larynx, thus constituting another metamorphosis of the human form: larynx-ear-wing organ. That is why the head is only hinted at. With Ahriman, you will find—once you see the figure in the Dornach building—that what can be conceived as a form is brought to the fore. But what emerges as the head in the case of Lucifer—although you cannot easily imagine that it would be the same for you as it is for Lucifer—is something that is, after all, beautiful to the highest degree. The Ahrimanic is thus the rational, the intelligent, yet the ugly in the world; the Luciferic is the beautiful in the world. Everything in the world contains both: the Ahrimanic and the Luciferic. Youth and childhood are more Luciferic; old age is more Ahrimanic; the past is more Ahrimanic, the future more Luciferic in its impulses; women are more Luciferic, men more Ahrimanic; everything contains these two currents.

[ 29 ] The being above Lucifer came into being as an elemental being growing out of the rock. We had completed the group we had discussed, and once it was freed from its scaffolding, something quite peculiar became apparent: namely, as Miss Waller observed, the group’s center of gravity—visually speaking, of course—lay too far to the right, and something would have to be created to restore balance. This is how it was conveyed to us by karma. Now the task was not merely to add a chunk of rock, but to further develop the sculptural concept. Thus this being came into being, growing, as it were, out of the rock as an elemental being. It is precisely in this being that you will notice something, even if it is expressed only in hints: you will see how asymmetry must take effect immediately as soon as spiritual forms come into play. This is expressed only to a very limited extent in the physical realm: our left eye is different from our right, and so on; the same is true of the ear and nose. But as soon as one enters the spiritual realm, the etheric body already appears decidedly asymmetrical. The left side of the etheric body is quite different from the right; this becomes immediately apparent when one attempts to form spiritual figures. You can walk around this being, and from every vantage point below, you will have a different view. But you will see that the asymmetry appears as something necessary, because it is the expression of the gesture with which this being looks down over the rock with a certain sense of humor and gazes at the group below. This humorous gaze down over the rock has its good reason. It is by no means correct to seek to ascend into the higher worlds with mere sentimentality. If one wishes to truly work one’s way up into the higher worlds, one must not do so merely through sentimentality. This sentimentality always carries a tinge of selfishness. You will see that I often, when the highest spiritual contexts are to be discussed, introduce into the discussion something that is not meant to disrupt the mood, but only to dispel the selfish sentimentality within it. Only then will people truly rise to the spiritual realm—when they do not seek to grasp it through selfish sentimentality, but can enter this spiritual realm with purity of soul, which can never be without humor.

[ 30 ] Then the head of the central figure in profile, as it naturally arose. The head also had to be made somewhat asymmetrical, because this figure was meant to show that it is not only the movements of the right hand, the left hand, the right arm, and so on that reflect the inner life of the soul, but also—in the case of a being such as being who lives entirely in the soul—such as Christ Jesus—this also involves the shape of the forehead and the entire rest of the figure, much more so than can be the case with human gestures. We have experimented—even though it does not correspond to reality—with placing the image upside down in the projector, and one already has a completely different view simply because it is inverted. The impression is different. But you will only see how this is conceived asymmetrically, artistically, when you see the finished head of the central figure. — One may well say: In the elaboration of such a work, all artistic questions are truly taken into account; even the smallest artistic question is always connected to some far-reaching whole. Here, for example, the treatment of the surface was of particular concern. After all, life must be brought about here particularly through the surface. The surface simply curved, and the curve curved again: this particular treatment of the surface—the double curvature of the surface—and how it draws life out of the surface itself—you only see that when you work through these things. And so you will see that what we wanted lies not only in what is depicted, but also in a certain artistic treatment of the subject. One did not have to approach the Ahrimanic, the Luciferic, and again the human in a novelistic manner, merely through imitation; rather, one had to get it into the fingertips, into the shaping of the surface, had to incorporate it completely into the artistic shaping. And that expansion which the human being gains by extending his perception into the spiritual realm also extended, on the other hand, back into the artistic realm.

[ 31 ] This group is thus positioned at the bottom of the stage on the east side. Above it arches the smaller dome, which is painted as I have indicated. Above this group, an attempt is made once again to render the same motif through painting. There is Christ, with Lucifer and Ahriman above him, and an attempt has been made to let the colors express what was to be depicted through art. It is precisely through the diversity of the treatment that one can see how these things had to be brought forth purely through artistic means.

[ 32 ] These are things that came to be only because a number of our friends worked on this building with the utmost dedication. The most curious things have been said about this building, but perhaps one day people will point out the selfless dedication with which the friends in our community—and especially the artists—devoted themselves to it. Here, with this group, very specific artistic questions came into play. For example, Miss Maryon found her way wonderfully into this process of translating a worldview into an artistic concept. The building is, of course, not yet finished. It would most likely be finished—except for this group, which could not be completed—if these catastrophic world events had not also prevented the building’s completion.

[ 33 ] I simply wanted to use these fragmented, aphoristic sentences to give you a sense of what we intend to achieve with this building. I hope that you have gained at least a very small idea of what—as we may expect—will one day be seen in Dornach in its completed state. What matters is this: to artistically integrate our worldview into the spiritual life of the present and the future. People will see that our worldview is more than just a theory—that it is a sum of real, living power. If we had presented something symbolic, one might say: “That is a theory.” — But since our worldview is capable of giving birth to art, it is something else, something alive. It will give birth to other things as well; it will also have to fertilize other branches of life. There is a great longing for what spiritual life is, as it is suited to our present time. With regard to spiritual life, however, much that is visionary, erroneous, and incongruous also comes to light in this realm. But I hope that people will learn to distinguish between what has been born out of the real demands of humanity’s current spiritual cycle and what arises merely out of confusion and the like. Everywhere we see, like mushrooms springing up, what is to be created in spiritual life. But one must learn to distinguish between what is truly to be born of the real forces of humanity’s spiritual development and what speaks errantly from the spiritual realm. You can hear such errant talk in many places today. It is quite natural that people pay attention to this, for it shows that they are striving toward the spiritual. You need only open your eyes, and you will see it everywhere: people are drawn toward the spiritual. A metaphysical novel has now been published by a Mr. Korf—a dreadful piece of work; it is actually more like “nonsensical” propaganda for the *Star of the East*. But I hope that people will learn to distinguish these things—which, in a different way, express a deviation from humanity’s metaphysical striving—from what should be created specifically for our time, springing from the fundamental aspirations of human existence.