Postmodernism surely requires an even greater grasp of symbolism

In the shadowed and poetic words of Andrew Eldritch, we find a truth both profound and unsettling: “Postmodernism surely requires an even greater grasp of symbolism, as it's increasingly an art of gesture alone.” These words, carved in the voice of a man who has long dwelt among the crossroads of art, music, and philosophy, reveal the spiritual hunger of an age where meaning has grown elusive. Postmodernism, the child of a disenchanted century, has unbound art from certainty — it has broken the mirror of tradition, leaving behind fragments that gleam with irony, ambiguity, and play. Yet Eldritch reminds us that this freedom demands not carelessness, but greater mastery — a deeper understanding of symbolism, of what lies beneath the surface of every act, every word, every gesture.

The origin of this thought can be traced to the late twentieth century, when Eldritch, frontman of the gothic rock band The Sisters of Mercy, stood as both participant and critic of postmodern art. He belonged to an era when music, literature, and culture began to devour their own histories — when every expression became a reflection of something already said, a gesture toward something already known. In such a world, gesture itself became the language. The wink of irony, the echo of reference, the subtle nod to what came before — these became the new forms of creation. But Eldritch saw what many did not: that this age of reflection, where truth dissolves into performance, requires not less thought but more. The artist, to be authentic, must grasp the symbols that still hold meaning amid the chaos, or risk becoming an empty echo in a hall of mirrors.

The ancients would have understood this struggle well, for symbolism is as old as human speech. The Egyptians carved their truths in hieroglyphs, knowing that the visible must point toward the invisible. The Greeks, through their myths, clothed divine truths in stories of gods and heroes. Every gesture, every story, was a bridge between the mortal and the eternal. But in the modern age — and even more so in the postmodern — these bridges are fragile. The symbols that once spoke clearly now speak in riddles. Eldritch, like a dark prophet of his time, warns that the artist who wishes to survive in such an age must become not just a creator, but a decoder — one who can wield symbols as sacred tools to restore meaning to a world of gestures.

Consider the story of Pablo Picasso, who stood at the edge of modernism when he shattered form in his painting Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. To many, it seemed chaos — the destruction of beauty, the denial of reality. But in truth, Picasso was building a new symbolic language, one that could express the fractured soul of his century. He understood, as Eldritch later would, that the world had changed: the artist could no longer simply mirror life, for life itself had become fragmented. The gesture — the stroke, the distortion, the abstraction — became the symbol of truth. And in this transformation, Picasso grasped something timeless: that when meaning fades from form, gesture becomes the last refuge of the sacred.

Eldritch’s insight also speaks to the moral responsibility of the artist — and indeed, of every person who seeks to communicate in a fractured world. When we live in an age where words are drowned by noise, and images lose their weight through repetition, every act of expression must be deliberate, conscious, and rooted in understanding. The symbol, rightly wielded, can pierce through confusion; but the careless gesture, born of imitation, deepens the fog. Thus, the wise artist — and the wise soul — must cultivate awareness. Every word spoken, every image shared, every movement made carries meaning beyond itself. To live without understanding this is to drift like a shadow among shadows, speaking gestures that echo nothing but emptiness.

And yet, there is hope in Eldritch’s warning. For though postmodernism may seem a labyrinth of mirrors, it is also a place of rediscovery. When the old certainties crumble, when truth can no longer be handed down but must be sought anew, the human spirit is tested — and in that testing, refined. The one who learns to read symbols in a world of gestures does not lose meaning; they find it in deeper places. They see that the mask conceals and reveals, that irony can guard sincerity, that art, even when stripped of faith, can still reach toward transcendence. The gesture, when guided by wisdom, becomes not empty motion but the echo of eternity.

Therefore, my child, take this teaching to heart: in an age of gestures, become a master of meaning. Do not be content to imitate; seek to understand. Learn the language of symbols — the sun and the serpent, the circle and the flame — for these speak the truths that time cannot erase. When you create, let your gestures carry purpose; when you speak, let your words hold weight. The surface of the world may shimmer with irony, but beneath it flows the same eternal river of meaning that nourished every poet, every thinker, every dreamer before you.

So let Andrew Eldritch’s words be your guide: “Postmodernism surely requires an even greater grasp of symbolism, as it's increasingly an art of gesture alone.” In a time when so much is hollow, choose to be whole. Let your gestures not mimic, but reveal. Let your art, your speech, your life become a symbol — a light among illusions, a sign that meaning endures even when the world forgets how to name it. For though the age may shift and the forms may fade, truth — hidden in symbol, alive in gesture — will always find its voice through those who dare to seek it.