Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
παρά --para: beside, near, past, beyond, above, contrary, resembling, apart from, irregular and abnormal.
φιλία --philia: a love that designates friendship, love between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers, family and community.
Medical Psychology Meaning: Sexual Fetishes.
Metaphysical Meaning: Friendship from Beyond.
New issue containing work by the following;
JOHN COULTHART, ARNAUD LOUMEAU, JIM LOPEZ, MICHAEL K, MICHAEL ROTH, CHRIS
BRANDRICK, CLARE GODDEN-ROWLAND, MALCOLM ALCALA, SALENA GODDEN, THOMAS
EVANS, GENE GREGORITS, DOLOROSA, A.D. HITCHEN, CHRISTOPHER NOSNIBOR,
MAX REEVES, IAN MILLER, RICH FOLLETT, NICK TOSCHES, CHARLES CHRISTIAN,
ROBERT AGASUCCI, ELE-BETH LITTLE, ALFRED MURO, DAVID CONWAY, DARIUS
JAMES, DESTINY MCKEEVER, STEWART HOME, PATRICK WRIGHT, CRICKET
CORLEONE, RICHARD A. MEADE, RICK GRIMES, LITTLE SHIVA, HANK KIRTON,
CRAIG WOODS, JAD FAIR, CLAUDIA BELLOCQ, TOM GARRETSON, ANGELA SUZZANNE,
RON GARMON, DAVID GIONFRIDDO, KATE MACDONALD, MARY LEARY, CHRIS MORRIS
Monday, August 24, 2009
'I kissed you when you asked me. I wanted to see what your mouth was like. It was hot and warm. I knowed you was good and soft by the feel of your mouth.'
Hannah Cullwick as Mary Magdalen by James Stodart in 1864
directed by Kim Wood 2003
Hannah Cullwick is a fascinating figure, a working class woman who kept a diary and pursued a class-defying relationship which encompassed S/M role-playing, cross-dressing and muscle fetishism.
Refusing to be constrained by notions of gender, class or race,she revelled in her physical toil and embraced her identity as a maid of all work, building up musculature and strength which delighted the victorian barrister Arthur Munby.
Victorian English gentlemen were notorious collectors. In the interests of scientific investigation and sociological progress, they amassed butterflies, antiquities and colonial territories on a breathtaking scale. Arthur Munby – minor poet, man of letters, Church Commissioner and barrister – collected working women. For over 50 years he sought out shop-girls, milliners, fruit and flower sellers, prostituterag-pickers, flither-lasses, pitbrow and gypsy girls, a cquiring their photographs and making detailed notes about their physical appearance and working lives.
Munby first spoke to Hannah on her 21st birthday. She was enjoying her second visit to London, having been brought from her native Shropshire by her employers for the season. On her first visit, the year before, Hannah had seen Charles Kean in Sardanapalus, Byron's tragedy about the King of Assyria who falls madly in love with one of his many slaves, Myrrah.
The play so fired her romantic imagination that when Munby approached her, she immediately identified him as a Master to whom she could become lovingly enslaved. His interest in female drudgery perfectly matched her desire to abase herself.
She practised her letter-writing in order to send her lover the kind of detailed descriptions he revelled in, telling him that "the blacker I get with work, the more ardent I feel towards you", and incidentally ensuring that her side of the unusual relationship is amply recorded.
Both documented their relationship, though it remained secret from their peers and Cullwick even took the bold step of changing jobs when staff became suspicious of the chain she wore round her neck as a symbol of her "belonging" to Munby. In her diaries she records submissive acts such as washing his feet and licking his boots.
However,Cullwick was probably in the driving seat in the relationship and refused his attempts to turn her into a lady. While Munby's diaries are full of his admiration for her physicality and muscularity, it is less clear what drew her to him,and indeed kept them locked together for decades in a relationship she described as "the same to us as marriage is to other folks",much of it spent living apart.
“For freedom & true lowliness, there's nothing like being a maid of all work...” Hannah Cullwick, 1872
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I have the delightful pleasure to be included with Illustrious company in the first issue of ABRAXAS...
Abraxas is a new independent journal of historical and
contemporary occultism. Through its pages will be manifest the voices
of working occult experience and the visions of esoteric artists,
alongside keen insights of original scholarly research. Abraxas
will offer the reader a rich resource of thought-provoking essays,
vibrant art and poetic myth from some of the most inspirational
thinkers, artists, writers, designers and practitioners working in the
international occult community today. Here will be found perceptive
articles, narratives of workings, mysterious photography, obscure
magical text reprints, strange drawings and resonant lyric. Abraxas
aims to be intellectually engaging, critically rigorous and visually
inspiring. It will be a unique space where fresh insights emerge to
feed the mind, imagination and soul.
Issue One – Autumn Equinox 2009
Treadwells and Fulgur are delighted to announce the first issue of our
new esoteric journal ABRAXAS is now in press. In keeping with our
intent, writers and artists have kindly submitted material from across the
globe: Australia,the United States,Mexico,Italy and the United Kingdom
are keenly represented.
Nearly all the material is published for the first time. Here may be
found inspiring essays from luminaries within the esoteric community,
many of them written especially for the journal. Artists too are well
represented, both established masters and emerging talents: a feast for
the eyes and soul. Our poets include Allyson Shaw, Zachary Cox and,
from beyond the veil, Aleister Crowley, whose evocative verse ‘Babalon’
finally finds itself in print more than sixty years after it was
Produced in a large quarto format, with 128 pages printed on high
quality paper and richly illustrated in colour and monochrome, we hope
Abraxas will offer you a strange mirror through which may be glimpsed
the zeitgeist of the global occult community today.
text and image above from FULGUR
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Words for Departure
Nothing was remembered, nothing forgotten.
When we awoke, wagons were passing on the warm summer pavements,
The window-sills were wet from rain in the night,
Birds scattered and settled over chimneypots
As among grotesque trees.
Nothing was accepted, nothing looked beyond.
Slight-voiced bells separated hour from hour,
The afternoon sifted coolness
And people drew together in streets becoming deserted.
There was a moon, and light in a shop-front,
And dusk falling like precipitous water.
Hand clasped hand
Forehead still bowed to forehead--
Nothing was lost, nothing possessed
There was no gift nor denial.
I have remembered you.
You were not the town visited once,
Nor the road falling behind running feet.
You were as awkward as flesh
And lighter than frost or ashes.
You were the rind,
And the white-juiced apple,
The song, and the words waiting for music.
You have learned the beginning;
Go from mine to the other.
Be together; eat, dance, despair,
Sleep, be threatened, endure.
You will know the way of that.
But at the end, be insolent;
Be absurd--strike the thing short off;
Be mad--only do not let talk
Wear the bloom from silence.
And go away without fire or lantern
Let there be some uncertainty about your departure.
from Body of this Death: Poems (1923)
You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth,
You have said my name as a prayer.
Here where trees are planted by the water
I have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret,
And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say,
My mother remembers the agony of her womb
And long years that seemed to promise more than this.
She says, "You do not love me,
You do not want me,
You will go away."
In the country whereto I go
I shall not see the face of my friend
Nor her hair the color of sunburnt grasses;
Together we shall not find
The land on whose hills bends the new moon
In air traversed of birds.
What have I thought of love?
I have said, "It is beauty and sorrow."
I have thought that it would bring me lost delights, and splendor
As a wind out of old time . . .
But there is only the evening here,
And the sound of willows
Now and again dipping their long oval leaves in the water.
from Body of this Death: Poems (1923)
Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,--
I'll lie here and learn
How, over their ground
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.
from Body of this Death: Poems (1923)
1st – 2nd century A.DRoman
Come, O come!...
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
Give me the sign of the Open Eye,
And the token erect of thorny thigh,
And the word of madness and mystery,
O Pan! Io Pan!Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
from Magick in Theory and Practice, Hymn to Pan, Aleister Crowley
Attributed to Desiderio da Firenze (Florentine, documented in Padua 1532-45), Satyr and Satyress, After 1524 (?), Bronze, H. 10-5/8", Musée National de la Renaissance, Château d’Écouen
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Another favourite :)
A little known Belgian artist Ghislaine de Menten de Horne and heroine of the Belgian Resistance, illustrations for an edition of La jeune Parque (The young Fate) published in 1935.
Spoken by a young woman, La jeune Parque is concerned with the battle between body and spirit; and between being and knowing.