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Saturday, February 25, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Austin O Spare...
We who seek—whether we know or not what we seek or find, seem forced to face divergent paths; and ever inviting is the non-resistant blind alley to all sameness, to sick and weary life. Other paths, rougher, lead who so willeth to new pleasures: verily they lead the life-force with ever-open eye to the awaiting disaster or to chaos—never bathos, self-pity. The brave care nothing.
The wise man often exuviates his knowledge, rectifies his pastiche of acceptances and reverts to simple fundaments. By courage his eye is never stale and his levels become as steps. He again reorientates by oblique divagation, new asymmetries, dynamics, complexities and funambulatory compositions; never destroying his essential dis-symmetry.
Love for all things is integral beauty; it has no hate or possessiveness; its law is its own causality. Passions may be controlled but we best love by non-will as inclination dictates: so accept love wherever you may find it. It is difficult to recognize because it never asks.
All our denials, even of ourselves, come from non-acceptance: the unrealisation of otherness in self; of the Absolute in the non-absolute.
Love for all things is integral beauty; it has no hate or possessiveness; its law is its own causality. Passions may be controlled but we best love by non-will as inclination dictates: so accept love wherever you may find it. It is difficult to recognize because it never asks.
All our denials, even of ourselves, come from non-acceptance: the unrealisation of otherness in self; of the Absolute in the non-absolute.
from Austin Osman Spare,The Logomachy of ZOS ~ ZOS Speaks! Encounters with AOS. Fulgur, 1998
previous Austin O Spare
In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Jindrich Styrsky...collage ...Comte de Lautréamont...1939...
"It was a spring day. Birds spilled out their warbling canticles, and humans, having answered their various calls of duty, were bathing in the sanctity of fatigue. Everything was working out its destiny: trees, planets, sharks. All except the Creator! He was stretched out on the highway, his clothing torn, His lower lip hung down like a soporific cable. His teeth were unbrushed, and dust clogged the blond waves of his hair. Numbed by a torpid drowsiness, crushed against pebbles, his body was making futile efforts to get up again. His strength had left him, and he lay there weak as an earthworm, impassive as treebark. Gouts of wine swamped the ruts trenched by his shoulders' nervous twitches."
Lautréamont, From "Maldoror"
(trans. Alexis Lykiard)
previous Jindrich Styrsky
Styrsky poem > here
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Alan Ti-Zariguin... Paintings ...2012
Mystere Araginee - Spider on the Solar Cross resurrected by Madame de la Luna
Mighty Ghuedhe - Burn the black candle and use strong and sweet incense of the tomb, for in fire, you will be reborn as Ghuedhe
Baron Lundy - To pass beyond, it is only possible with the guidance of the Voudon Baron Lundy, who rules the qliphotic dimension of the Northern Cross.
Paintings are acrylic on 320 g handmade paper – format A6
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
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