Saturday, 11 August 2018

Last Few Days

ordinary day, post horse-feeding I will pick up 'artisanal' black iron nails, which I will pound into painted wooden shards, so as to sell them to any like-minded who may like to watch hanging crimson wood and nails slowly revolving. (re-alised/re-membered part inspiration of the cultus/altars was texas chansaw massacre)

so: off across the fields (via cackleshaws) songs; aerosmith: dream on, prince: one of us: tears streaming... looking back up the valley, Penistone hill: other-wise, othering heights: a sorcerous evocation: a man wills himself to a state, not quite death, but beyond 'life' to unite w/ the eternal shade, the mind overcoming mind
(echoes of borges' 'a man wills himself to death, the way one wills oneself to sleep')

falling upwards, a funneling gyre, watching the brown leopard butterflies bustle in a confused circling of velvet flapping that suddenly gains traction on a burr in the air and they are swept up in a spiral gyre that plays on my spirit like alice c's fingers stroking the exquisite celestial  harp that all earthly harps are just cartoons of, just here to give us a taste (eternitys beautiful frontispiece: Thomas traherne)

four more charms: (one was rotten and disintegrated under the hammer...) 




initial five, pre stress-test


the piebald prince has had his mane brushed, he likes it...
and I've harvested mane/tail hair, realising it will make the real hanging threads for the fetiches
(actually, 'tis very brittle for knot tying, so you must tighten gently, and only so far...)



town! o the joys... here is keighleys modern temple of mammon mall...


draped with the nations flag, in exactly the shade of arterial blood that will spurt forth from my finger
as I pierce the wood to allow for the hanging, with a bradawl that I drive into my flesh, therefore accidentally earthing, by bleeding onto the redwood and adding far more of my 'self' than I may have intended












Saturday, 21 July 2018

Necessary Alchemy

a new level of grok/intuit whilst gazing at sigmar polkes photo-incantations, of how his darkroom, like eblis halls (ourstudio) was a tool. and the darkroom, the oozing chemicals, the foldings, reversals all reveal: Dreams..... the mind in repose is the speculum of all creation dared Zos, and so it is....

and fruits are on bandcamp: aleph gyre: being a suite of two opposing sound swirls, a slew of screenprint alchemy on a rag bag of apparels...










Sunday, 17 June 2018

Whirling Thunderbolt / Thank you...

sometimes with my eyes set to navigate terrestrial pathways, I can forget the celestial portion, where we are from, where our star seeds return to. The great bear, Sirius, these are the regions from whence this cosmic star squid wheeled across the abyss... Ilkley moor's ever inspiring Svastika Stone









the Thank you is for Nottamuns noise fiends, and the organisers, and especially Simon, the sound-man at the Rammel/Chameleon who enabled us to tap into and sculpt away at a pure vein of received musical gold that the electrickal universe made available to us that night. and thanks too to all the other acts, and to linder sterling for gathering the stuffs into the house of fame so we could also be transformed by the Propellor group's 'The living need light, the dead need music' film, and microscopically pore over the alien terrains of Ithell Colquhouns paintings, in the afternoon prior to playing. Amen.