Berenice Sydney is a fascinatingly overlooked figure. She was born in London in 1944 and died at only 39, but left behind an unusually large body of paintings, prints, drawings and sculpture. She exhibited internationally during her lifetime, including at the ICA in London.
What is especially interesting about works like Green Sun (1968) is that Sydney repeatedly returned to circles, spirals, radiating lines and movement. Dance was important to her, and these recurring structures often grew from ideas of bodies moving through space rather than from purely geometric abstraction.
For these color studies, that makes the palette especially good to pull apart. The painting is built from a surprisingly tight vocabulary of hot reds and oranges against blue, purple, green and near-black, repeated across those radiating forms until color itself becomes part of the movement.
Before Siddhartha Gautama became the Buddha, a powerful demon tried to stop his awakening. His name was Māra.
The early Buddhist texts describe Māra as a supernatural being associated with death, desire and the forces that keep beings in saṃsāra. He sends an army against Siddhartha, then sends his daughters to tempt him. When Siddhartha remains unmoved, Māra questions his right to the seat of awakening.
Siddhartha touches the earth and calls it to witness his past acts of generosity. Māra’s claim fails. This moment became the famous earth-touching gesture found throughout Buddhist art. Māra is often described today as a symbol of doubt, craving or distraction. That interpretation is not wrong, but it leaves out an important part of the early tradition.
The Buddhist texts do not present Māra merely as a thought inside Siddhartha’s mind. They describe him as a supernatural figure living within a larger world of gods, demons, rebirth and multiple realms. So the “Buddhist devil” is not simply a metaphor for negative thinking. His role is much closer to a force that keeps beings bound to the cycle of rebirth.
Māra tried to stop the Buddha from awakening. Then, after the awakening, a serpent king came to protect him.
According to the Udāna, the Buddha was meditating beneath a tree when a violent storm began. Mucalinda, a powerful Nāga king, emerged from his dwelling, wrapped his body around the Buddha seven times and spread his hood above him to shield him from the rain and cold. The storm lasted seven days. When it ended, Mucalinda took human form and stood before the Buddha with his hands folded in reverence.
Nāgas were not simply giant snakes. In early Buddhist texts, they are supernatural beings associated with water, subterranean realms and great power. They could appear as serpents or humans and interact with gods, humans and Buddhas.
Mucalinda was still trapped in saṃsāra, the cycle of birth and death. Yet he protected the Buddha who had escaped it. The story also gives us a glimpse of the Buddhist cosmos. Awakening did not erase the supernatural world. Māra, Nāgas, gods and other beings continued to exist within it. What changed was their relationship to the Buddha.
Māra tried to keep the Buddha bound to saṃsāra. Mucalinda protected him after he had gone beyond it. Both were still caught in the cycle of birth and rebirth, yet they responded to the Buddha in opposite ways. Māra resisted his awakening. Mucalinda recognized it and protected him.