Having spent past Walpurgis nights in relative solitude for over a decade, the stars aligned now in such way, that this year I was invited to spend it together with fellow photographer and occultista Anna Krajewski. Above are a few impressions of our little sabbath, as we explored a chapel built in follow to the execution of the region’s last witch, and ventured on through the forest, as the blue hour began. Finally we came to sit among tree roots descending towards a lake, in the company of myriads of bats and various waterfowl, a swan and last but not least a grey heron, sliding elegantly across the water’s mirroring surface…
Several of my artworks and one essay are featured in the now sold-out “Pillars – Perichoresis” anthology by Anathema Publishing, 2016. The book is a compilation of the first three “Pillars” journals and contains additional material that was not part of previous releases. I have contributed to all three journals and look forward to continue working with Anathema Publishing in the future.
All Hallows is amongst others a time to remember your Dead and be receptive for the messages they communicate from the other side. I have previously blogged about the season and thinning of the veil that usually separates the worlds of the living and the dead. This post is about the actual period known as Allhallowtide, or more famously Halloween, which is celebrated on October 31, and the following nights of All Saints and All Souls, which are commemorated successively on November 1 and 2. These celebrations have a Christian background, though Halloween is often also viewed to have originated from Pagan harvest festivities, particularly the Gaelic Samhain. All have in common an occupation with death and the souls of the dead. Hence skulls and ghoulish appearances are a prominent theme during Halloween. Halloween could be translated as the ‘eve of the hallowed ones’ – the holy or good dead, spirits and saints of Christian faith. However, these long nights are also seen as a time of mischief and in pagan tradition they mark the beginning of the Wild Hunt, a fearsome and dangerous time associated with fateful events.
During these nights it is common to light candles and serve offerings for the dead. These customs find a climax in the Mexican celebrations of the Dia de los muertos, Day of the Dead, when the cemeteries turn into oceans of light, offerings of sugar skulls and pan de muerto, bread of the dead, are placed on graves and home altars, people dress up as skeletons and identify consciously with their dead and the skeletal saints Santa Muerte and la Calavera Catrina. (These customs may be rooted in but are actually far removed from Aztec times, when gruesome deities such as Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacihuatl were feared and appeased with bloody sacrifices). Today’s day of the dead customs are mostly influenced by Catholicism and similar practices exist in other parts of Latin America and catholic parts of Europe.
I have been impressed and moved by the intensity and beauty of these celebrations since the first time I learned about them, and feel an urge to create a similar atmosphere in my place of living. Actually we too have a time for commemorating the dead, which is Totensonntag, the last Sunday before Advent. This is when we visit the graves of our dead relatives, grandparents and great-grand parents. But in my practice I also relate to the Dead that I once shared a part of my life with and the so-called Mighty Dead, which are much older spirits that act as spiritual guides and idols. For me these three nights of Allhallowtide are a time to relate to and honor these Dead and to do so I adopted some of the practices from the Mexican festival, some of which have been taught to me by friends and so another aspect of following these customs is carrying on a tradition.
Below you can see the offerings placed outside on my window bench. They consist of grave candles (which are weatherproof and indispensable during the stormy autumn nights), normal candles (which may or may not burn, depending on the weather), bread of the dead shaped into preferred forms and sweetened with honey, pomegranate (a reference to underworld deities such as Hecate and Persephone), orange or other type of fruits, e.g. figs, Vervain strewing herb and a glass filled with fresh water. Later I also added a pumpkin-lantern, into which I carved a Teufelskunst devil, to strengthen the flame that keeps me and my artistic work alive:
These offerings are left for as long as the candles keep burning (e.g. 72 hours) and then brought to a graveyard or a remote place in the forest, ideally where they won’t be removed by third parties, just so the souls can ‘feed’ on them undisturbed. And again in this case these offerings are not related to ones normal dead relatives and hence are not placed on those graves, but rather a neutral yet powerful spot is chosen, such as a crossroad, in front of a large tree or cross. Additional candles are lit, incense burnt and through silent or spoken prayers the tie between oneself and the spirits is renewed and strengthened.
Now I hope this post is helpful to my readers and especially those, to whom this festival (and my obsession with it) occurs as strange. Respect the work and you may prosper from it as well.
Update: I am adding some useful links on the topic below. The list shall grow as I find time and inspiration to add more…
Esoteric art exhibition and talk event, St. Augustine's, London Hackney, 21st - 23rd of March 2014
This was an unusual art exhibition as well as an unusual occult gathering. This event was different in a number of ways. It was also a personal challenge.
If you would have asked me two weeks earlier about going to London and exhibiting my art there, I would have declared you insane. But it happened. All my concerns, about lacking the funds, health, whatever, and other obstacles magically vanished, just one week before eventually embarking on my journey to London. It would be the first time in seven years.
It felt like a tip on my shoulder, followed by a physical and mental boost. The next few days I was like a maniac, preparing prints, packing art, clothes etc. Everything had to fit into a board case. The woman at the print shop became my best friend. I booked the flights last minute and eventually, after days and nights of no-sleep and few hours of rest, I found myself on the bus to Berlin airport, feeling lucid yet focused, constantly going up and down mental check lists.
“A tower of an event…”
The tower usually evokes a dark and fearsome image. However, my journey went smoothly. When I say smoothly, I mean everything worked out perfectly. I was on time, did not forget a thing, did not loose anything, flights, buses, trains – whatever was needed to get to the place did not let me down. If I was lost for the way, people helped me find it. I was met with so much friendliness that I eventually started wondering whether any of this was real.
“A circular gathering…”
It is the day of the vernal equinox. When I arrive at Andrea Kundry’s place, the other guests are already involved in animated conversation. I know noone and expect to be plutoed as the ‘German girl’. Instead I am welcomed warmly and find myself instantly involved in creatively engaged talk. It is Charlotte Rodgers who takes the initiative; Glen Tomney and Roberto Migliussi join and a couple of minutes later we are talking art and meanings. It will continue throughout the event.
We have no time to loose and soon head straight to the location: St. Augustine’s tower appears as a solitary monument in the middle of London Hackney, medieval and out of place looking, reminding indeed of the tower tarot card. At the entrance, which is locked, we meet a little woman named Paula, who is dressed in hippie apparel. By little, I mean that she is maybe less than 5 feet tall. She has come here for the equinox and to light a candle in front of the tower, which she explains, is situated on the same ley-line as Stonehenge. She also tells us the tower was the oldest church tower of entire Britain and twelve monks had committed mutual suicide in this building. Her words sound like the perfect initiation into the event.
Unlocking the gate, we promise Paula to leave her candle burn, even though I wonder how any candle would remain lit under these conditions. This equinox comes rather as a late come-back of winter than a warm spring beginning.
Then we entered…
The tower’s inside is flooded with day light, shining through tall Gothic windows, illuminating layers of dust collected on cobwebs and the various artworks positioned on tables and hung on wire threads. In one corner, covering a wooden balustrade, hangs resplendent the large image of a black devil dancing on skulls and sticking out its tongue. It is painted by Dolorosa de la Cruz.
Passing art by Andrea Kundry and intricate sculptures by Charlotte Rodgers, we proceed up a narrow stairway and enter a small room that houses the tower’s clockwork. A reproduction of Amodali Zain’s iconic work is arranged alongside miniature paintings by Jezebel Halewood-Leagas, to be joined by various drawings and a goblin-themed assembly by Glen Tomney. In the same room I am later also setting up my long exposure nature photographs.
Crossing a small wooden bridge, we enter a second room with animal sculptures by Charlotte Rodgers. The iridescent black feathers of a winged corvid creature refract the daylight into its single parts. The bird resides over the talks, meditations and musical evenings taking place here.
We climb up to the last floor, the tower’s attic. In a dark corner presents itself an enormous vulvic shrine dedicated to Pomba-Gira. It consists of multiple ceramic and paper pieces, all created and set up by Angela Edwards. Two visitors are leaning thoughtfully over the installation. Later there will be Christian visitors inspecting the tower and wondering about the unusual happening and they will be shocked and confused by Angela’s work. But even esoteric folks visiting the tower for the exhibition will react ambiguous and unable relating to the presentation. It is the first time for me getting to know Angela and her work, and I too have to sort my feelings in regards to its provocative and violent yet strangely beautiful and enigmatic forms. I shall learn later, how much substance there is to it. Angela provides the viewer with candles and incense for paying respect to the spirits. So I light some, the rest remains an inner dialogue. Later I will spend more time chatting with Angela and without knowing or deciding on it, we are to stay in touch for years to come.
The inside of the tower is cold, electricity is not working properly and there are few facilities for hanging up our work, as it is forbidden to hit nails into the walls of the historical building. But somehow we manage by improvising: arranging our works in window frames, underneath timber beams, at the edge of protruding wall stones and on the wooden doors encasing the clockwork. At night we light candles to illuminate our artworks. The natural light and warmth of the candles creates a special and beautiful atmosphere inside this unique location. After three days at the tower none of the pieces would feel quite the same. Amidst cobwebs and dust centuries old they become charged with the special vibes of the place.
The following day we are greeted with storm and hail whilst the sun keeps on shining, creating a twilight mood, which again reminds me of the imagery on the tarot tower card…
Below is the view from the tower’s entrance towards the churchyard with its old gravestones. Rooted directly in front of the tower is a beautiful majestic tree, looking all the more dramatic against the scenery in the sky formed by dark clouds, sunshine and hail. Beneath, see also a sandstone relief mounted at the left side of the tower’s entrance, showing three skulls with triple crossed bones, hourglass and dragon wings – a memento mori, representing mortality, evanescence and resurrection.
Saturday is full-packed with talks, meditations and musical performances. On top of a busy schedule, Andrea, the organizer herself continues feeling (and looking) ill, despite hoping for recovery until the very last minute. As she can not attend her own talk, she asks me to jump in. Suddenly I find myself in the unexpected situation of having to talk in front of a foreign audience, in a foreign language, who are expecting in depth info and insights about the very location of this event, St. Augustine’s. Instead I fill the spot with talk about memes, the symbolism of plants and drawing, handing around my sigil cards for inspired conversation. Somehow we manage and my Sigilla Magica gain the attention of the audience.
Saturday evening ends with a jam session by Roberto Migliussi (vocals), Chris Chibnall (theremin), Gavin Semple (guitar), Mark O Pilkington, Glen Tomney and Freya Black (magic flute). The tower provides amazing acoustics and so we sit there, chatting and listening to the wondrous vibrations.
On the last day it is time to pack and leave. We say goodbye, exchange contacts and return to our homes. Some people I meet throughout the event, are probably of high relevance within the London/UK esoteric scene. But my mind is already overwhelmed with new impressions and my journey is not over yet, as I am invited to check out two esoteric book stores. I need to catch my flight though and so there is only time left for one. We check out Watkins Books, recommended by Roberto Migliussi. I am impressed by the beauty of the place as well as the sheer amount of esoteric books on the shelves. I don’t think something similar exists in Germany. Roberto also purchases the very first of my sigil card sets and simultaneously entrusts me with the task of coming up with a better packaging for them.
I will be attending and participating in the London MAGICAL ART/E, a circular tower of an event this weekend. The happening takes place at St. Augustine’s tower, Hackney, London, providing a unique location for performances and exhibitions. Coming with me are 20 photo prints from the Listen to the Silence series as well as prints of my drawings and abstract sigil art. Below is a photo of the tower.
Wiebke Rost 