Friday, August 21, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
My drawings in ...ABRAXAS...
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
written.
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
Edgar Allan Poe by Satty...
a scan from one of my favourite books
Wilfried Satty 1976 from The Illustrated Edgar Allan Poe
Austin Osman Spare...a favourite...
The New Eden, lithograph. Originally published by The Golden Hind 1922
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Jindrich Styrsky...Sexuálnì Nocturno
The first book to be illustrated by the Czech Surrealist Jindrich Styrsky.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Louise Bogan... poems
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.
2
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.
3
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)
Betrothed
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)
Knowledge
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)
Come, O come!...
1st – 2nd century A.DRoman
Come, O come!...
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All-devourer, all-begetter;
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
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