Saturday, January 29, 2011

Andre Domin ...illustration for "Litanies de la Rose"...1919



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"Litanies de la Rose"
Remy de Gourmont (Author)
Paris: Editions Rene Kieffer, 1919


Rose with dark eyes,
mirror of your nothingness,
rose with dark eyes,
make us believe in the mystery,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.

Rose the colour of pure gold,
oh safe deposit of the ideal,
rose the colour of pure gold,
give us the key of your womb,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.

Rose the colour of silver,
censer of our dreams,
rose the colour of silver,
take our heart and turn it into smoke,
hypocrite flower,
flower of silence.

Remy de Gourmont




William Sharp, a.k.a. 'Fiona Macleod' & John Duncan...The Celtic Twilight




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                                                         ETAIN
[Dreamily
I have heard. . . . I have dreamed. . . .I,
too, have heard,
Have sung . . . that song: O lordly ones that
dwell
In secret places in the hollow hills,
Who have put moonlit dreams into my mind
And filled my noons with visions, from afar
I hear sweet dewfall voices, and the clink,
The delicate silvery spring and clink
Of faery lances underneath the moon.


from the immortal hour by Fiona Macleod

an enjoyable paper on Sharp and Duncan and the Celtic Twilight



Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Lynd Ward... Mad Man's Drum.. Part 1



a few scans from one of my favourite artists, and one of the finest wood engravers of the twentieth century .. 

 Mad Man Drum ~ A Novel in Woodcuts
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Sunday, January 23, 2011

Cadavre Exquis... Affections...





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S Dali, Gala, A Breton, V Hugo



Apuleius' ... "Metamorphoses, or the Golden Ass"... illustrations and translations...



'
'Lend me your ear, reader: you shall enjoy yourself'



Illustrations and translations of the Latin novel the



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Isis Revealed
illustrated by Percival Goodman. New York: The Limited Editions Club, 1932.



‘Looking up I saw the full orb of the Moon shining with peculiar lustre and that very moment emerging from the waves of the sea. Then the thought came to me that this was the hour of silence and loneliness when my prayers might avail. For I knew that the Moon was the primal Goddess of supreme sway; that all human beings are vitalised by the divine influence of her light; that all the bodies which are on earth, or in the heavens, or in the sea, increase when she waxes, and decline when she wanes. Considering this, therefore, and feeling that Fate was now satiated with my endless miseries and at last licensed a hope of salvation, I determined to implore the august image of the risen Goddess.
  So, shaking off my tiredness, I scrambled to my feet and walked straight into the sea into order to purify myself. I immersed my head seven times because (according to the divine Pythagoras) that number is specially suited for all ritual-acts; and then, speaking with lively joy, I lifted my tear-wet face in supplication to the irresistible Goddess:
....

translated by Jack Lindsay





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illustrated by Percival Goodman. New York: The Limited Editions Club, 1932.



“Queen of Heaven, whether you are fostering Ceres the motherly nurse of all growth, who (gladdened at the discovery of your lost daughter) abolished brutish nutriment of the primitive acorn and pointed the way to gentler food (as is yet shown in the tilling of the fields of Eleusis); or whether you are celestial Venus who in the first moment of Creation min
gled the opposing sexes in the generation of mutual desires, and who (after sowing in humanity the seeds of indestructible continuing life) are now worshipped in the wave-washed shrine of Paphos; or whether you are the sister of Phoebus, who by relieving the pangs of childbirth travail with soothing remedies have brought safe into the world lives innumerable, and who are now venerated in the thronged sanctuary of Ephesus; or whether you are Proserpine, terrible with the howls of midnight, whose triple face has power to ward off the assaults of ghosts and to close the cracks in the earth, and who wander through many a grove, propitiated in divers manners, illuminating the walls of all cities with beams of female light, nurturing the glad seeds in the earth with your damp heat, and dispensing abroad your dim radiance when the sun has abandoned us—O by whatever name, and by whatever rite, and in whatever form, it is permitted to invoke you, come now and succour me in the hour of my calamity. Support my broken life, and give me rest and peace after the tribulations of my lot. Let there be an end to the toils that weary me, and an end to the snares that beset me. Remove from me the hateful shape of a beast, and restore me to the sight of those that love me. Restore me to Lucius, my lost self. But if an offended god pursues me implacably, then grant me death at least since life is denied me.”



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Lucius restored to human shape by the Grace of Isis
illustrated by Jean de Bosschère.  London: John Lane - The Bodley Head, 1923.


Thus the divine shape breathing out the pleasant spice of fertill Arabia, disdained not with her divine voyce to utter these words unto me: Behold Lucius I am come, thy weeping and prayers hath mooved mee to succour thee. I am she that is the naturall mother of all things, mistresse and governesse of all the Elements, the initiall progeny of worlds, chiefe of powers divine, Queene of heaven, the principall of the Gods celestiall, the light of the goddesses: at my will the planets of the ayre, the wholesome winds of the Seas, and the silences of hell be disposed; my name, my divinity is adored throughout all the world in divers manners, in variable customes and in many names, for the Phrygians call me the mother of the Gods: the Athenians, Minerva: the Cyprians, Venus: the Candians, Diana: the Sicilians Proserpina: the Eleusians, Ceres: some Juno, other Bellona, other Hecate: and principally the æthiopians which dwell in the Orient, and the ægyptians which are excellent in all kind of ancient doctrine, and by their proper ceremonies accustome to worship mee, doe call mee Queene Isis…’

translated by William Adlington



Saturday, January 22, 2011

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Amodali... Babalon, a celebration of the mystical and erotic imagination ... Liber Incarnadine





The Liber Incarnadine project is an online, experimental installation, the conceptualization and visual design by Amodali, formerly of Sixth comm/Mother destruction, now a solo artist.


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'Liber Incarnadine' is essentially a glorification of the human urge towards love, transcendance, and a resanctification of the erotic impulse within a 21st Century perspective. It explores ideas regarding the relationship between lover and beloved, ego and other aspects of being, and one's relation to the macrocosm. It creates an environment for concepts such as 'alchemical marriage' and pansexuality to flourish, and encourages a dynamic exploration of this. Within an infinite love letter, which pays tribute to the dizzying innovation of our erotic imagination and yearnings towards ecstatic consciousness.

"Still they mutter and rumble under my flesh burning with fiery tongues deep into my womb. All of your secret selves that you were not conscious of have written their story into my blood, the immortal, the ancient and primordial, the elemental, the electrophysical. Pristine and scientific 'snapshots' burst through into my consciousness randomly of 'energy profiles' frozen in time when you came in me, complex graphic flows charting the particular erotic topology of a moment, by examining these it's possible to evaluate the precise nature of the energy interchanges that took place, which of the subtle bodies were engaged, eye contact fixing the flux with particular intent..." (Contribution from Amodali to Liber Incarnadine)



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L.I. seeks to be a sanctuary for all the most sublime, lascivious passions. Painful or ecstatic, profound or desolate musings; aiming to raise these to the heights of spiritual engagement. To create an open ended document, a testament to our sacred and holy urge towards union. Text submitted anonymously by online individuals will form a seamless stream, sections of the text will be sampled at random during live performances by Amodali and offered as prayers to our lady Babalon in the form of vocalizations/chant.


This is the first, experimental, magical liturgy from 'Incarnadine lodge' a gnostic, illuminist body dedicated to research and exploration of the 156 current, sex-magick and alchemy.

To contribute  > *Liber Incarnadine*
 
Please treat this space as a sanctuary for any disenfranchised aspect one's soul's yearning, erotic impulse, or any desire towards one's 'other' that has not found fulfillment, be this philosophical, spiritual or visceral. The text will be  seamlessly taken into the virtual grail to create an infinite love letter to our lady. Extracts of the text will be taken at random and incorporated into future Amodali performances, where they will be vocalized as chant. Permission for Amodali to sample text donated to L.I. is implicit in the submission. Copyright remains with the owner.

all text from Liber Incarnadine



Sunday, January 16, 2011

Paul Holman... poem... 3






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3


 She had been earthed
( had i earthed
her by my intrusion? )
eyes no longer turned

upon phenomena I
could not locate.
She considered me a 
plunderer, a facund man,
a madman: one who
scries alphabets
of daggers, of arrows.
Zigzagged tights in a

knot in her pocket,
the tip of each
hair luminous a fox-
fire or rotten wood,

she opened the violet
gate at her throat
to release the fractal
silhouette of Pan.



Published in a wonderful collection of esoteric poetry and essays > Datura by Scarlet Imprint 
previous POEMS
 
PAUL HOLMAN is the author of The Fabulist (1991) and The Memory of the Drift (2000). He was co-editor of Invisible Books in the 1990s.