#anathema of zos

[disease]

“Your desires shall become flesh, your dreams reality and no fear shall alter it one whit.”

—Austin Osman Spare, Anathema of Zos, 1927

[spaceintruderdetector]

https://archive.org/details/rantsincendiarytractsvoicesofdesperateillumination1558present/mode/2up

Contents: Prelude by Adam Parfrey Foreword by Bob Black 1. The Monstrous Regiment of Women by John Knox 2. The Pleasure-loving Modern Woman by William Prynne 3. A Fiery Flying Roll by Abiezer Coppe 4. Pirate Rant by Captain Bellamy 5. A Fair Dream and a Rude Awakening by Jean Paul Marat 6. Philosophy in the Bedroom by Marquis De Sade 7. King Steam by Anonymous Luddite 8. Hurrah! Ou La Revolution Par Les Cosaques by Courderoy 9. A Sentimental Bankruptcy by Charles Fourier 10. The Ego and Its Own by Max Stirner 11. Murder by Karl Heinzen 12. No Treason by Lysander Spooner 13. The Revolutionary's Catechism by Sergei Necheyev 14. Dynamite! By T. Lizius 15. Speech of the Condemned by Louis Lingg 16. Speech to Missionaries by Red Jacket, Seneca Leader 17. An Exchange by Judge Roy Bean & Judged Beaner 18. Voters Strike! By Octave Mirbeau 19. Might Is Right by Ragnar Redbeard 20. Degeneration by Max Nordau 21. Manifesto of Lust by Valentine de Saint-Point 22. Anarcho-Futurist Manifesto by A. L. & V. L. Gordin 23. Iconoclasts, Forward! by Renzo Novatore 24. Literature and the Rest by Philippe Soupault 25. Anathema of Zos by Austin Osman Spare 26. General Security: The Liquidation of Opium by Antonin Artaud 27. I Wish You All Had One Neck by Carl Panzram 28. The Eternal Youth by Ralph Chubb 29. Bagatelles Pour un Massacre by Louis-Ferdinand Celine 30. Darkness by Ezra Pound 31. The Poet's Dishonor by Benjamin Peret 32. Listen, Little Man! by Wilhelm Reich 33. Formulary for a New Urbanism by Ivan Chtcheglov 34. Concerning New Year 1963 by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini 35. Ball of the Freaks by Anonymous 36. There Is a Great Deal to Be Silent About by Emmett Grogan 37. SCUM Manifesto by Valerie Solanas 38. Plea for Courage by Mel Lyman 39. P.O.W. Statement by Timothy Leary 40. On Fear by the Process Church 41. Occupy the Brain by Carsten Regild & Rolf Borjlind 42. Never Again! by Rabbi Meir Kahana 43. Situationist Liberation Front by Anonymous 44. The Invisibles by Thibaut D'Amiens 45. Misanthropia by Anton Szandor La Vey 46. The Anthropolitical Motivations by Stanislav Szukalski 47. The Correct Line by Bob Black 48. Investment in Survival by Kurt Saxon 49. The Roots of Modern Terror by Gerry Reith 50. Meese Commission Report on Pornography by Park Elliott Dietz, M.D. 51. Reward of the Tender Flesh by Ed Lawrence 52. The Nine Secrets of Mind Poisoning at a Distance by Kerry Wendell Thornley 53. L'Revolucion Pourneant by Pascal Uni 54. Sammy Prole Gets Tough by John Crawford 55. Population and Aids by Earth First! 56. Out of the Mouth of Venom: Creation by Kathy Acker 57. Intellectual S & M Is the Fascism of the 80's by Hakim Bey

[devosopmaandag]

Het leven zelf

Ideeën voor deze vossen-op-maandag worden soms langzaam geboren, soms worden ze bedwongen, soms dwingen ze mij. Ik keek naar een BBC-documentaire over een project dat door Prince Charles was geïnitieerd, waarin zeven van de allerlaatste overlevers van de holocaust werden geportretteerd door kunstenaars. Ik was zeer onder de indruk van de verhalen van de mannen en vrouwen, van hun ontmoetingen met de kunstenaars, en uiteindelijk van de portretten. Ik huilde meerdere keren, en ik dacht dat daar de vos van vandaag over zou moeten gaan: wat dat huilen van de mens toch is. Ik zocht een essay van Rudy Kousbroek op dat hij in 1984, schreef: 'De wenende aap'.* Daarin houdt hij een betoog dat tranen samenhangen met schoonheid en vermoedelijk verliefdheid, en dat die niet alleen maar door de aanblik van de aanbedene maar ook door een landschap kunnen worden opgeroepen. Die vaker door mij half onthouden uitspraak van Stendhal dat schoonheid de belofte van geluk is, kan ik dankzij Kousbroek nu eindelijk precies citeren. Stendhal zegt dat alles wat mooi en subliem is in de wereld deel wordt “van de schoonheid van wat men liefheeft, en die onverwachte visie van het geluk vult onmiddellijk de ogen met tranen.” Kousbroeks essay begint met dichtregels van Tennyson: “... And thinking of the days that are no more.”

Mijn tranen waren niet van geluk, maar misschien wel om wat ik liefheb: mijn medemens. Zij ontroeren mij boven alles. Ik voelde me als kind op een of andere manier verbonden met oude mensen, een verbondenheid die ik misschien nu pas begrijp, want juist zij bieden de aanblik van het leven zélf. In het kind dat ik was, was er slechts sprake van de zwakst mogelijk resonantie van dat besef.

Hoe die zeven mannen en vrouwen spraken over hun uitzonderlijke levens, soms op een onverbloemde toon, soms stamelend en vol pijn, soms in kalme aanvaarding, maakte dat ik het leven zelf in de ogen keek. Die ene dichtregel van Tennyson kreeg een pijnlijk andere lading. Even zo vele portretten waren het resultaat, en elk met zijn eigen schoonheid.** Zo is er het portret dat Jenny Saville maakte van Zigmunt Shipper (1930), die als jonge jongen het getto van Lodz en verscheidene concentratiekampen overleefde. Shipper is een breekbare man geworden met een onbreekbare geest. Saville is beroemd om haar enorme en groteske vrouwelijke naakten, die soms zo confronterend en gruwelijk zijn dat ik er amper naar kan kijken. Vlees en huid zijn voor haar niet alleen betekenisdragers, maar vormen ook schilderkunstige opgaven.*** Het gezicht van Shipper is vol groeven: '… quite a lot in his flesh that's going to communicate his thoughts. I usually think universal ideas with the people I'm working with. With Ziggy that is incredibly powerful.' In Zigi's portret kijkt het leven ons aan.

* Rudy Kousbroek | Het meer der herinnering – Anathema's 5 | Uitgeverij Meulenhoff 1984

** https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-60088598

*** https://gagosian.com/quarterly/2019/05/15/video-interview-jenny-saville-rembrandt-self-portrait

[nice-accurate-good-omens-quotes]

Anathema: Z is just a sideways N

Newt: It's 2 AM, please stop.

Anathema: Zo.

[atamascolily]

Lily reads Star Wars: Red Harvest, part four

In which sentient plants offer excellent advice, but it doesn't help, and the zombie mayhem at Sith Hogwarts begins.

(If you’re just joining me, check out the “Red Harvest” tag on my blog for previous posts)

At Sith Hogwarts, we learn that the Big Bad is even more devious than we previously assumed:

Her name’s Hestizo Trace,” the Whiphid said. “She’s the orchid’s keeper. It needs her to—”

“Survive,” Scabrous said. “I know. That’s how I knew you were bringing me the genuine article.” He reached up and touched her face, his gloved hand cold against her cheek, like leather wrapped around an iron rod. “It was the one piece of information that I withheld about the orchid.”

PRO-TIP: DON'T DO BUSINESS WITH THE SITH. THEY *ALWAYS* CHEAT.

The Sith Lord nodded. “My droid will pay you on the way out.”

Time for another double-cross? That droid ain’t a HK for nothing...

Anyway, horrible Sith experiments follow using the orchid. Other Sith students spy and scheme. The student Scabrous tortured to death rises from his cage and breaks free. The zombie's first act is to bite off part of Darth Scabrous's face. Good for him, though it doesn't take.

Metal struck metal with a flat, declarative clang that reminded him somehow of the sound of training blades clashing at the top of the temple. It was a noise that said: Things have been put into motion, and whatever happens next, there will be no going back.

#accurate

More Sith students die, but it's hard to care because they're such terrible people. (Though we also learn that some of them were conscripted into the Academy, so they didn't necessarily start off as terrible people, but they sure are now!) I'm skimming a lot because it's all incredibly violent.

Zo escapes in the chaos. Darth Scabrous does some awful Sith alchemy to keep from turning into more of a monster than he already is. Zo eavesdrop on the Sith masters explaining to the students that it's just another Tuesday:

Zo realized as she listened that she could hear a slight but unmistakable tremor of concern in the Master’s tone. He was doing everything he could to cover it up, and perhaps the students were fooled, but to her mind he might as well have been wearing a placard: I’M DOING MY BEST TO SPIN A SITUATION THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO ABILITY TO COMPREHEND, LET ALONE CONTROL, AND—

The orchid talks to Zo and warns her of trouble, but it doesn't help. The bounty hunter shows up again and grabs her before the infected students do. Cliffhanger!

Meanwhile, we meet a Sith nerd who just wants to translate secret Sith scrolls for Ultimate Power--who is also the only female student we've seen thus far. There's a sentient tree librarian in a crumbling library and I'm here for it.

“Something unsettling you, Kindra?” His voice was thick and raspy. “Some uncertainty of the mind, yes?”

“No.”

The librarian didn’t respond, just continued to slither his branches downward until the great bulk of his trunk dangled upside down in front of her, the warty, centuries-old eyes narrowing with myopic consideration. Dail’Liss had been the curator of the library for as long as anyone could remember, perhaps going back a thousand years or more. Although his elaborate root system was permanently embedded somewhere deep in the foundation, a seemingly endless network of branches and limbs allowed him to slide unimpeded through its walls and hollows. Ironically, it was this constant writhing and squirming that undermined the infrastructure of the building itself. Rumor was that it would only be a matter of time before the Neti brought the library down on top of him, sealing himself forever amid his own precious holdings—a fitting enough end, when Kindra thought about it.

“Look.” Kindra shook her head, increasingly irritated by the librarian’s evasiveness. “Either you have answers for me or you don’t. Either way I’m not going to stay in here and hide.”

“Best course of action, I would say.”

Tree!Librarian is right. She's not going to survive is, she? But I'm still kinda rooting for her, if only because everyone else is so awful in comparison. We haven't seen Kindra doing anything evil yet, but I'm sure she has, if only because she's still alive in this place and kindness is anathema to baby Sith.

The Tree!Librarian also doesn't seem evil... yet? How did he get here? What's his deal and why? I am so curious and this is all the backstory I'm getting, which is to say, almost nothing. Sigh.

One of the students gets bitten. His arm starts rotting.  This Is Fine.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” ...

“About what?”

“I don’t know—this night, everything. You feel it?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, feigning an indifference that he didn’t even remotely feel. “Just another day in paradise, as far as I’m concerned.”

LOL, irony.

More zombies. More attacks on Sith students. Chapter Twenty is called "Lockdown" and I just can't even. Most of the Sith students are literally locked in the cafeteria with their ex-colleagues, and then the bloodbath starts. They're using the Dark Side to fight the zombies. It doesn't go well.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this whole premise is fucking genius, because again, everyone at a Sith Academy is a horrible person doing horrible things in their horrible gothic nightmare castle, so it's hard to feel bad when they are horribly murdered by horrible Sith zombie alchemy monsters. It just feels like Laser-Guided Karma.

Shit just got real because Not!Qui-Gon arrives at the Sith Academy. The mechanic who greeted the bounty hunters is now missing, presumed dead It's tough to be psychometrist when everything you touch generates visions of violent death.

Meanwhile, a handful of surviving Sith students team up, kinda:

Ra’at held Maggs and Hartwig in the same regard that he did the rest of his classmates, with a kind of suspicious indifference. Their motives were purely selfish, as were his; he had no intention of sharing information that didn’t somehow improve his own situation. At this point they all knew something had gone very wrong, contaminating the academy or the entire planet; for the moment they were allies of opportunity.

These Sith can't even work together long enough to survive the crisis. No wonder the Jedi eventually kicked the Siths’ collective asses through the Power of Friendship.

Here, have some conspiracy theories along with your nightmare fuel:

“We all feel something kind of bad in the air, right? Like maybe some kind of a … disease. But who’s to say it’s not just one of Scabrous’s drills?”

Kindra’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“For all we know he started this himself.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it is a training exercise,” Maggs put in. “Or maybe he’s culling the weak students. It’s happened before. Remember the unakki eye spiders?”

“This is worse,” Kindra said.

“Don’t be so sure,” Hartwig said. “Eleven students went blind. Two of them died. Remember Soid Einray?”

“Soid Einray was a defective already.”

“Maybe, but he still hung himself afterward. And then we found out that Scabrous had reactivated the fertilized spider eggs from the pathogen bank as a nerve-reflexivity drill.” Hartwig refused to lower his stare. “I still wake up with blood in my eyes sometimes.”

Just another day at Sith Hogwarts, am I right? What a terrible place.

Ra’at began concentrating solely on himself and his own survival, forgetting all the others. The Masters at the academy had trained them to fight as a unit when necessary, but a Sith warrior’s true strength lay in his or her own personal will to power. When you could trust no one, fighting alone was axiomatic, a natural state.

Flattening himself to the wall, he felt the Force’s dark side coursing through him, a crackling electric chill that rendered fear and apprehension obsolete, and welcomed it. In that moment, he felt only a ready vigilance, weightless and unrelenting. Since arriving here on Odacer-Faustin, it was the closest to happiness that he dared let himself experience. Yet in so many ways it was superior to any happiness he’d ever encountered. It made traditional happiness look anemic by comparison.

The POV Sith students watch the cafeteria zombie attack on the security cameras, and realize what they're up against. Meanwhile, Zo is also realizing how much trouble she's in, and the orchid is having a breakdown:

They can’t be killed, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, they’re already dead, look at them. At first she thought she was hearing her own thoughts, and then she realized it was the Murakami orchid, roiling in its own guilt and misery, yammering out words that she alone could hear. Dead but alive, Hestizo, dead but alive, I did this to them, it was my fault, when Scabrous put me into that horrible vat, and now I’m inside them—

Poor orchid. I really like that it isn't evil and is just as horrified as Zo about all this. I’m still not sure how that’s possible, or what actually happened, but that’s okay, because none of the character do, either!

Zo is about to be eaten by the zombies, but then--

I’ve got an idea, she told the orchid. Grow.

What?

You’re in them now, she said, aren’t you? You’re a part of them. You said so yourself.

The orchid does, and the zombies explode through Plant Power.

She concentrated harder—she could actually see the flora growing inside the things now, driving it harder, farther, faster from within, even as the orchid began crying out, begging her to stop, telling her that this hurt, it couldn’t do it anymore—

A lot of screaming follows. But it does work. Once. And then the orchid passes out and... becomes evil? Oh, no, I hope not. Turns out the bounty hunter is still alive, and she's working with him now to survive, like you do. I bet he’s regretting his life choices right now, too.

At that moment, Scabrous had assumed that what he’d seen was a kind of exaggerated nervous twitch, a biochemical accident that the drug and the orchid had triggered inside Nickter’s body. But now—

I wasn’t kidding when I said nobody knows what’s going on; not even the Big Bad has any idea of the forces (ha!) he’s unleashed. He determines that Zo is fleeing for the library, and prepares to trap her there. Will not!Qui-gon get there in time?

Spoiler: not quite.

[theimgonnapregal]

Damnation Dignified The Tetra Files:

Tira and Sira Basics - Personality

Basics

Names: Tira and Sira

Given Names: Eiserne Drossel (code name in Bird of Passage) birth names redacted

Nicknames: The Tiras, Wings of Despair, Dark Wings that Plot in Secret, Soul of Torment, Misguided Angels of Death, Mischievous Whispers, Darkness of Legend, Those Psycho Double-mint Bitches

Birthplace: Empire of Zo-On (the exact location of their faction is unknown to non-allies)

Date of birth: Redacted (presumed year 740 M.E.)

Age: Redacted (presumed 17 by the events of DMC5)

Species: Sira - Zoanthrope, Tira - Human

Religious views: Irreligious

Occupations: Birds of Death - Elite assassins trained for their Imperial Mafia organization, Bird of Passage

Urvogels - The highest leadership position in the organization, co-ruled for the first time in its history; the Tiras are next in line to rule territories of their own as proper empresses.

The Fauna - Basically the Oracle for all beast-men, their Divine Mission is to aid them with their problems and grant them access to Zo-On. Sira - being a Zoanthrope - is the one with the bulk of this responsibility while Tira is her trustworthy assistant. The Fauna is revered by beast-men the world over. Though depending on those spoken to, that love may or may not be for the right reasons.

Servants of Soul Edge

Freelance Psychos for Hire

 Personality

Temperament: Sira - Choleric/Sanguine, Tira - Sanguine/Choleric

MBTI: ESFP

Enneagram/Tritype:

Sira - 8w7(sw7w6) -4w3(sw3w2) - 7w8 (sw 6w7)

Tira - 7w8 (sw 6w7) -4w3(sw3w2) - 8w7(sw7w6)

Instinctual Variant: sx/so

Socionics: SEE

Moral Alignment: Insane in the membrane! Chaotic Evil (has shades of chaotic neutral/good when the well-being of beast-men is involved)

Sira/Gloomy: Housing the Gloomy persona, Princess Sira is the callous assassin raised by the organization. Being open with and fueled by the rage that Tira holds deep down, Sira can be a bitter, spiteful, hateful brat. An impatient individual, she prefers to get down and dirty in the act of murder with absolutely no fear of confrontation. Though as straightforward as she tends to be, she can be just as cunning as her sister when she feels like it. This egotistical, avarice diamond in the rough is said to hate everyone except Tira which extends to prioritizing her sister's wellbeing above all else. There are few exceptions but generally she hates in different quantities. It's clear that Sira isn't naturally gifted with her sister's endearing sweetness by default, her dominant persona being sour and aggressive even when she has good intentions. However, her devotion to her fellow beastmen undeniably shines her imperial and personal light.

Tira/Jolly traits: Housing the Jolly persona, Princess Tira is the more exuberant and perky of the two. Ever so friendly, she's usually the first to speak and has an easier time forming bonds with others despite being taught not to. She embraces the inner child that she and Sira were forced to give up during their time in the organization, an especially misleading tactic until it's too late to realize her murderous intent. Her fun-loving nature extends to her preferred method to kill, toying with her prey until she's ready to finish them off. Service with a smile, as they say! She tends to be carefree, preferring to keep the mood light and upbeat. Being the sweeter twin, she'll easily express and initiate affectionately tender actions especially towards anyone she trusts. Due to this trust however, she's easier to hurt emotionally if betrayed or abandoned. Like her sister, Tira has a heart for the beast-men of the world which raises a few eyebrows.

Both: The Imperial Princesses were born and bred to be versatile and charismatic in preparation for their rule as Urvogels, a position they've earned due to their unsurpassed skills in combat. Ruthless and sadistic, they derive demented amusement from the suffering of their victims due to their upbringing. As impulsive and manic as they are, their lethal addiction to killing can be both a blessing and a curse. Their unpredictability and volatile mood swings may have caused some accidents and sometimes they even bicker, but the two have such substantial value that doing away with them would be unwise. 

They're rebellious and opportunistic by nature, manipulating people and orchestrating events to work in their favor for any plan or whim. Coupled with unlimited determination and willpower, these two are a force to be reckoned with. Because of their upbringing, it's not unheard of to catch sight of Sira and Tira together off the field or to overhear them bantering and praising each other during a fight. They're more close-knit than normal identical twins. Despite being polar opposites in their dominant personas, they don't consider themselves to be individuals and don't show displeasure at being treated as part of a matching set. Because of this encouraged codependency, it's impossible to turn them against each other and the offender, without debate, will receive the beat-down of a millennium for even trying.

As elusive as they come, Sira and Tira are difficult to get to know beyond their appearance or what they willingly reveal. They don't nest in one place for too long, and don't tell their friends when they leave or where they're going, only to reappear unannounced as if they weren't just gone for a month or so. Both sisters aren't very fond of the human-dominated society, lacking empathy for humanity at large. It didn't take long for them to despise humans who are normal, innocent, or "goody-goody", showing a prideful hatred for - what they believe is - patronizing kindness.

Despite this, they can be loyal and protective only to those they deem worthy. Zoanthropes and other beast-men seem to automatically be worth their time, generally valuing their happiness over human life. Otherwise, they're extremely selective and picky about potential friends. They usually get along with people who share their murder hobby, take pleasure in fighting, or simply those who are fellow outcasts, weirdos, and misfits regardless. Bonus points if these people are non-human. However, forging and maintaining a bond with them isn't for the feint of heart. If anyone's considered as a flockmate, Sira and Tira would go to hell and back for them with such intensity that there'll be no doubt of their devotion. 

On the downside, they're ironically cat-like; possessive, clingy, and needy for attention from whoever they wish to merge with. Although both twins are rather "on my terms" when it comes to affection and invading someone's personal space, Sira views the act of bonding as a weakness, and yet she occasionally falls for the trap of becoming attached to someone. She doesn't consciously initiate affection and usually attacks viciously when receiving...unless the other person is special to her. Thankfully, Tira's more lax and won't automatically attack when faced with affection. The only exception is if she's clearly distressed or when someone persists while she simply doesn't want it, though this is very rare.

Either way, they're both mistrustful of outsiders who try to involve themselves in their established circle, making it crystal clear that their friends are theirs and sharing is out of the question. Growing up lonely and lost, with their own set of trust issues, an 'off-switch' for this was never developed. Buried deep inside lies a certain sadness about them. A sadness that flows into a subconscious desire for companionship and love; to be wanted and needed for who they are. It wouldn't be wise to point this out. Touching this taboo would only be met with ire and anathema to the unfortunate soul who foolishly dares to voice it within earshot.

End of Part One

[bookofshitposts]

Go labour! Fulfill the disgust of becoming yourself, of discovering your beliefs, and thus acquire virtue. Let your good be accidental

Austin Osman Spare, Anathema of Zos "The Sermon to the Hypocrites"

[dunmeshi]

compiling a few thoughts into one post sorry

it's a shame I made a seraph crowley tag and yet no one else has used it (despite other people writing the concept)

if I write more priel I'm definitely incorporating the star thing. I'm also going to have jehoel be responsible for the creation of leviathan for no particular reason other than I want to.

I want to write zophiel bc I think a very common scenario is like

michael: I want to do this thing

everyone else: michael you can't, shouldnt, are not allowed to do that thing

michael: fine

michael:....

michael: zo will you do me a favor

I still really want to do some roleswap, especially angel!anathema descendant!aziraphale

[annejms]

Persoonlijk zou ik, in navolging van Bernard Shaw, willen spreken van 'idealisten' en 'realisten'... Twintig procent idealisten, negenenzeventig procent Philistijnen, en één procent realisten, zie daar het resultaat van Shaws analyse. De idealisten zeggen: het is schoon en goed; de Philistijnen zeggen: het is goed genoeg voor mij; maar de realist komt tot de conclusie, 'dat het grootste deel ervan is moeite en verdriet.' Natuurlijk is de realist identiek met de kankeraar. Doch wie zegt 'kankeraar'? Alléén de groep der Philistijnen, door Shaw vermoedelijk nog te klein getaxeerd... Ik ben tot de conclusie gekomen, dat wat deze mensen eigenlijk zoeken is 'zelfbevestiging' tot elke prijs. Het laat hen in wezen onverschillig wat waar is of niet waar... zij zijn bezield met het vaste plan de kankeraars onschadelijk te maken en hun voorgoed de mond te snoeren. Laat ons daarom kankeren, waarheidslievend en zo mogelijk literair.

W. Walraven, Eendagsvliegen, en het citaat van Anathema’s 4. De waanzin aan de macht van Rudy Kousbroek.

[disease]

“Other than damnation I know no magic to satisfy your wishes; for ye believe one thing, desire another, speak unlike, act differently and obtain the living value.”

—Austin Osman Spare, Anathema of Zos, 1927

[b-galleria]

Riikka Ala-Hakula: Aseemista okkultismia: Austin Osman Sparen sigilit

B-galleria 22.9. klo 18-20 Riikka Ala-Hakula: Aseemista okkultismia: Austin Osman Sparen sigilit Vapaa pääsy. Tervetuloa!

Puhun illassa okkultisti ja kuvataiteilija Austin Osman Sparen (1886–1956) sigileistä (eng. sigil, lat. sigillum). Käyn läpi termin käsitehistoriaa ja sigileiden eri käyttötapoja länsimaisen kuvamagian historiassa. Näytän esitelmän yhteydessä kuvamateriaalia Lontoosta Viktor Wyndin museosta, jossa on pysyvästi esillä laajin kokoelma Austin Osman Sparen teoksia. Näyttelyn teoksissa Spare yhdisti sigileitä kuvataiteeseensa, mikä tuo hyvin esiin hänen kaksinaisen luonteensa okkultistina ja kuvataiteilijana.

Spare vietti nuoruusvuotensa Lontoossa, jonne sikisi vapaamuurariudesta erottautuvia uusia okkultistisia yhteisöjä, kuten Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn ja Ordo Templi Orientis. Spare eli Lontoo-Cityn kaupunginosassa, jossa hänen isänsä toimi poliisina ja äiti hoiti kotona lapsia. Hänen työläistaustaiset vanhempansa eivät olleet perehtyneet ajan okkultistisiin virtauksiin, joista Spare kiinnostui 7-vuotiaana, kun hän tapasi ennustaja Patersonin. Ennustaja Paterson oli omien sanojensa mukaan perehtynyt länsimaiseen noitakulttiin ja Spare viittaa häneen useissa teksteissään toisena äitinään. Nuorukaisena Spare oli hetken Aleister Crowleyn hallinnoiman Astron Argonin (A.A.) jäsen, jonka järjestelmä perustui osittain Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawnin perintöön. Hän kuitenkin erosi järjestöstä lyhyen ajan sisällä ja perusti oman järjestelmän Zos Kia Cultus, jonka perusperiaatteita hänen julkaisemansa kirjat käsittelevät.

Spare on siitä poikkeuksellinen, että hänen omistautumisensa okkultismille kietoutui alusta asti hänen kuvataiteellisiin taipumuksiinsa. Hän osoitti taiteellista lahjakkuutta jo varhaisessa teini-iässä, jolloin Lambeth School of Art oli hänelle tärkeä opiskelupaikka. Siellä ollessaan hän sai stipendin Lontoon kuninkaalliseen taidekouluun. Näihin aikoihin hänen isänsä myös lähetti yhden Sparen piirroksen ehdolle kuninkaallisen akatemian näyttelyyn, jonne se hyväksyttiin. Täyttäessään 18 vuotta Spare julkaisi ensimmäisen kokoelman piirroksiaan ja tekstejään kirjassa Earth Inferno (1905). Hän saavutti siis jo nuorena huomattavan aseman kuvataiteen kentällä. Myöhemmin häntä verrattiin Aubrey Beardsleyn, Albrecht Dürerin ja William Blaken kaltaisiin poikkeuksellisiin lahjakkuuksiin.

Surrealismi rantautui Lontooseen vuonna 1936, jolloin New Burlington Gallery järjesti tuhansia vierailijoita päivittäin keränneen näyttelyn International Surrealist Exhibition. Spare liitettiin liikkeeseen alitajuntaa, automatisimia ja taidetta yhdistävien kirjoituksiensa perusteella, mutta hän ei itse pitänyt itseään surrealistina. Tämä selittyy osittain sillä, että hän oli julkaissut aihetta käsittelevät tekstinsä jo paljon ennen surrealismin saapumista Englantiin. Lisäksi taide ja okkultismi olivat hänen ajattelussaan eräällä tavalla saman asian kaksi puolta, mikä erotti tai suorastaan eristi hänet molempien piirissä esiintyvistä liikkeistä ja yhteisöistä.

Spare oli oman tiensä kulkija, joka otti tarkoituksella etäisyyttä taidemaailmaan ja siellä saavuttamaansa maineeseen vuonna 1927 julkaisemallaan teoksella The Anathema of Zos: The Sermon to the Hypocrites. Hän halusi tutkia tuntemattomia maailmoja ja hän näki sisäsyntyisen stoalaisuutensa olevan tässä avuksi. Teoksen julkaisun jälkeen hän menetti keskeiset kontaktinsa taidekenttään ja useisiin ystäviinsä. Tämän jälkeen hän järjesti vielä muutamia näyttelyitä Lontoossa West Endin gallerioissa, mutta vähitellen hänen teoksiaan oli julkisesti esillä lähinnä kapakoissa tai pienissä rähjäisissä gallerioissa kaupungin köyhillä alueilla. Pitkään Sparen taiteella oli vain pieni ja intohimoinen okkultismista kiinnostuneiden keräilijöiden joukko, mutta tällä vuosikymmenellä hän on herättänyt taas laajemman yleisön kiinnostuksen Englannissa.

Riikka Ala-Hakula on kirjallisuuden väitöskirjatutkija Jyväskylän yliopistosta. Hän on päätoimittanut Tero Hannulan kanssa vuoden 2016 Nuoren Voiman Runousnumeron. Lisäksi hän on suomentanut ranskalaista runoutta ja kirjallisuusesseitä suomalaisiin kulttuurilehtiin.

Maksuttomat, kaikille avoimet TIEDETAIDE-illat järjestetään B-gallerialla perjantaisin klo 18-20. Luennon kesto on 30-45 minuuttia, jonka jälkeen aiheesta seuraa avointa keskustelua. Tilaisuudessa on kahvitarjoilu. Tervetuloa kuuntelemaan, kysymään, pohtimaan ja keskustelemaan! 

Hanketta ovat tukeneet Suomen Kulttuurirahaston Varsinais-Suomen rahasto sekä Varsinais-Suomen taidetoimikunta / Taiteen edistämiskeskus.

Tilaisuuksien luento-osuudet striimataan verkkoon kaikkien kiinnostuneiden saavutettaville. Ohjelma- ja aikataulumuutokset mahdollisia. Lisätietoja: http://bgalleria.net/tiedetaide www.facebook.com/bgalleria www.twitter.com/beegalleria www.instagram.com/bgalleria

[drakontomalloi]

Austin Osman Spare - The Journey of the Soul. 1921

[animus-inviolabilis]

The Journey of the Soul (pasted into copy of vellum edition of Anathema of Zos) Austin Osman Spare 1921

[roseaucoeurviolet]

I have not me tragedy, no, not in this life! Yet, whether I have spewed their doctrines upon the tables of the Law or into the troughs, at least I have not cast away the flesh of dream!

Austin Osman Spare. Anathema of Zos. The Sermon to the Hypocrite.

[abystle]

He who is lawless is free. Necessity and time are conventional phenomena. Without hypocrisy or fear ye could do as ye wish. Whosoever, therefore, shall break the precept or live its transgression shall have relativity of Heaven. For unless your righteousness exist not, ye shall not pleasure freely and creatively. In so much as ye sin against doctrine, so shall your imagination be required in becoming.

From The Anathema of Zos,

by Austin Osman Spare, 1927

[disease]

“Seekers of salvation? Salvation of your sick digestion; crippled beliefs: Convalescent desires. Your borrowed precepts and prayers—a stench unto all good nostrils!

Unworthy of a soul—your metamorphosis is laborious of morbid rebirth to give habitance to the shabby sentiments, the ugly familiarities, the calligraphic pandemonium—a world of abundance acquired of greed. Thus are ye outcasts! Ye habitate dung-heaps; your glorious palaces are hospitals set amid cemeteries. Ye breathe gay-heartedly within this cesspit? Ye obtain of half-desires, bent persuasions, of threats, of promises made hideous by vituperatious righteousness! Can you realize of Heaven when it exists without?”

—Austin Osman Spare, Anathema of Zos, 1927