Seasons of the Witch

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Francisco Goya-El_Aquelarre Witches Sabbath)1798Francisco Goya-El_Aquelarre (Witches Sabbath) 1798

The figure of the witch has haunted many an artists work, from the strange and disturbing phantasmagorias of Albrecht Durer and Hans Baldung Grien at the time when the Early Modern witch trials were sweeping across large swathes of Europe to the feminist re-envisionings of Leonora Carrington, Leonor Fini and Alison Blickle.

The archetypal image of the witch created in the Early Modern period is of a women, alternatively a hideous crone or a beautiful temptress, engaging in nocturnal flights upon enchanted broomsticks or diabolical animals to attend Sabbaths presided over by the Devil in animal form, where they participate in sexual orgies and blood rites. This delirious but potent fantasy contributed to the hysteria that resulted in around 50,000 executions between 1424 to 1785. Even after the witch craze abated she lingered in art as a femme fatale in the 19th Century, only…

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The Enigmatic Architectural Fantasies Of Jean-Jacques Lequeu

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Great Art ❤

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Jean-Jacques Lequeu-Il est libre-1798-1799 Jean-Jacques Lequeu-Il est libre-1798-1799

The figure of Jean-Jacques Lequeu, with his bizarre architectural fantasies, disconcerting self portraits and obscenely lascivious figures is an enigma. In some respects Lequeu seems very much of his time, a Utopian Neoclassical architect working in the tradition established by his more famous revolutionary contemporaries Claude-Nicholas Ledoux and Étienne-Louis Boullée, whose visions also largely existed only on paper, forever unbuilt, and yet also strangely Modern, indeed Post-Modern. This Proto-Surrealist aspect of Lequeu led one art critic to conjecture that Marcel Duchamp himself altered  Lequeu’s work while working in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, in order to create a suitable precursor as well as enacting some form of recondite revenge on Le Corbusier. Unfortunately for this rather droll conspiracy theory, Duchamp worked at the Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève and not at the Bibliothèque nationale.

The little we do know about Lequeu does nothing to dispel the mystery. Born in…

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Moonchild

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I’m a child of the Earth ❤❤👍❤

yassie's avataryaskhan

I am a child of the earth
Raised by the stars in the sky
Tended by the moon as I sleep
Scars of the world clothe me
Her wounds rich in history.

I am bathed by the tears of the clouds
When it rains, the wind howls-in my ears
Apocalyptic....
When I cry-the earth soaks up my tears
A piece of my soul
Turning to dust;
And like dust, I rise
A storm of stardust
On moonstruck madness..

The sky calls out my name at dawn
Sparking the sun on my breast..

I am a child of the earth
The darkness and the light
The truth, the lie
Sorrow and joy
It's all there in the
Pen that I wield.


#free verse

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Jazz Age Wednesday — Pip & Artie, Aghast at a Ghost

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Artie & Co are Cool 👍 Jazz for ever 😊❤❤

Teagan Riordain Geneviene's avatarTeagan's Books

Wednesday, May 15, 2019 

Author Neil Gaiman for Get Caught ReadingAuthor Neil Gaiman for Get Caught Reading

May is #GetCaughtReading Month!  Chris Graham, the Story Reading Ape himself, and I are together again to support this initiative that promotes the fun of reading for all ages.

Chris and I have collaborated on several short stories that include his character, a genius ape named Artie and my first flapper, Pip.  It all started with Time Travel Esc-Ape.  Then there was Pip in the Corn Maze, followed by the three-part Pip and Artie Meet Again.

I hope you Get Caught Reading our new story!  It is set during the time-line of my upcoming novel A Ghost in the Kitchen.  All right then, let’s get a wiggle on and head to the Jazz Age!

Pip and Artie — Aghast at a Ghost

Fearful man and woman circa 1926Ghost Stories Magazine circa 1926

“Hello,” I answered the telephone.  “Andy, tha―”

“Paisley…

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The big sleep

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« Life is a sleep and love is its dream; and you have lived if you have loved. »

Ibonoco's avatarNews from Ibonoco

« La vie est un sommeil, l’amour en est le rêve, Et vous aurez vécu, si vous avez aimé. »

“Life is a sleep and love is its dream; and you have lived if you have loved.”

« Das Leben ist ein Schlaf, die Liebe ist ein Traum, und du wirst gelebt haben, wenn du geliebt hast. »

Alfred de Musset (1810 – 1857) est un poète et dramaturge français s’inscrivant dans la période romantique. Un temps, il se liera à Georges Sand. En 1845, il sera nommé chevalier de la Légion d’honneur. En 1852, il sera élu à l’Académie française. Il mourra de la tuberculose en 1857. A ses obsèques seront présents : Lamartine, Mérimée, Alfred de Vigny et Théophile Gautier.

.

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A BEAUTIFUL SONG

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mikesteeden's avatar- MIKE STEEDEN -

devil's kiss

It is often said of me that I am, ‘about as much use as a fart in a thunderstorm’. Most likely there is more than an element of truth in that. In particular, technology is my bette noir hence you find me on a wing and a prayer, hoping against hope that I’ve managed to ‘embed’ this truly beautiful song within this post.

Given that the song in question is that of Zoolon indicates, correctly, that this post is an act of unashamed promotion of ‘one of my own’.

Herewith the ‘Devil’s Kiss’, the title track from his new album, a duet twixt Zoolon and the artist, the lovely Fifi Rong.

If you wish to discover more then visit Zoolon at his WP blog. You’ll find him and his exquisite new album at Zoolon’s ‘Devil’s Kiss

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Song for the dead

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Ibonoco's avatarNews from Ibonoco

CHANSON DE FOU

Vous aurez beau crier contre la terre,
La bouche dans le fossé,
Jamais aucun des trépassés
Ne répondra à vos clameurs amères.

Ils sont bien morts, les morts,
Ceux qui firent jadis la campagne féconde ;
Ils font l’immense entassement de morts
Qui pourrissent, aux quatre coins du monde,
Les morts.

Alors

Les champs étaient maîtres des villes
Le même esprit servile
Ployait partout les fronts et les échines,
Et nul encor ne pouvait voir
Dressés, au fond du soir,
Les bras hagards et formidables des machines.

Vous aurez beau crier contre la terre,
La bouche dans le fossé :
Ceux qui jadis étaient les trépassés
Sont aujourd’hui, jusqu’au fond de la terre,
Les morts.

Traduction approximative :

MAD SONG

No matter how much you shout at the ground,
The mouth in the ditch,
Never any of the deceased
Will not respond to your bitter clamor.

The dead are…

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