Exegesis THE HERMIT (VIIIl) Sentences 1–3

1 And I heard a black sound burst forth from the bird, a whispered noise
2 Master your language because it is your watercolors that speak
3 And it is the vision of the other that will matter to you, for he will thirst for this water

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1 And I heard a black sound burst forth from the bird, a whispered noise
This is a sound that is not meant to be heard in the ordinary sense. A black sound evokes a vibration without light, a message stripped of image and spectacle. The bird—here the Jay-Spirit—no longer sings but whispers, indicating a transmission that bypasses clarity and seduction. It is a voice emerging from shadow, from the archaic layers of consciousness. The Hermit speaks from the dark, where true instruction is born.

2 Master your language because it is your watercolors that speak
This is the first injunction of the Hermit: restraint. Language must be mastered not to dominate, but to be silenced at the right moment. The work itself becomes the lantern. The artist is invited to withdraw, to renounce commentary and explanation. Watercolor—fluid, unstable, alive—carries its own syntax. Meaning arises from perception, not from discourse.

3 And it is the vision of the other that will matter to you, for he will thirst for this water
Here the Hermit teaches radical detachment. The artist no longer seeks recognition or control over interpretation. What matters is the awakening of thirst in the other. The work does not deliver knowledge; it provokes desire. Each viewer drinks according to their own need, their own depth. Vision is not given—it is drawn out.