If it is the sunlit canvases of the impressionists that do it for you, then best look elsewhere. This weblog is (mostly) about the shadow side of art, and the mysteries which may be found there. For my part, I am the opposite of a moth; it is the darkness that attracts me. And the darkest well, they say, most clearly reflects the stars.

*Click on the above slideshow to open my online album with titles of the works. Please scroll down for extra information on this sidebar about the slideshow.

The farther you go the deeper is the sea.

Tintoretto

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Thanks! - Hawkwood -

I admonish all who have any knowledge in these matters that they write it down. Do it truly and plainly, not toilsomly and at great length, for the sake of those who seek and are glad to learn.

Albrecht Dürer

Here is the Book of thy Descent,
Here begins the Book of the Sangreal,
Here begin the terrors,
Here begin the miracles.

Perlesvaus (Percival), 1225
Quoted by John Matthews in
The Grail: Quest for the Eternal

There seemed a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened I heard from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said, “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added, “Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.”

Extract from Jonathan Harker’s journal
in Bram Stoker's Dracula

Los huesos son relámpagos
en la noche del cuerpo.
Oh mundo, todo es noche
y la vida es relámpago.

(Our bones are lightning
in the night of the flesh.
O world, all is night,
life is the lightning.)

Octavio Paz
from Live Interval

Even through the darkest back alleys, it was said, Ishtar, the goddess of love, might be seen gliding, visiting her favourites in taverns and on the open streets, so that all the city, mingling festival with erotic adventure, appeared to glimmer with desire.

Tom Holland
From Persian Fire

The spirit of a warrior is not geared to indulging and complaining, nor is it geared to winning or losing. The spirit of a warrior is geared only to struggle, and every struggle is a warrior's last battle on earth. Thus the outcome matters very little to him. In his last battle on earth a warrior lets his spirit flow free and clear. And as he wages his battle, knowing that his will is impeccable, a warrior laughs and laughs.

The sorcerer don Juan Mattus, quoted in
Carlos Castaneda's A Separate Reality

And the pool was filled with water
out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us,
reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed,
and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird,
for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.

T. S. Eliot
From Burnt Norton

Prophesy to the wind,
to the wind only for only
The wind will listen.

T.S. Eliot
From Ash Wednesday

'This fire is the honey of all Beings,
And all Beings are the honey of this fire.
O bright immortal Lover that is in fire
And shines in mortal speech;
O bright immortal Lover who is All!'

This was the song that came from
The small span of thin gold bodies
Shaped by the holy Dark.

Edith Sitwell
from The Bee Oracles

Robin Goodfellow,
Dianae, my muse.
Morpheus in my heart,
Your sand in my veins.
It's a deeper kind of slumber.
What is the universe anyway
But a pouch of silver coins.
The intense breathing
Of a dying animal.
A foreboding of afterlife,
Master keys in an oaken chest.
The somewhere is mine
And from there I'll continue.
All I asked for was a little love.
Meet me on the other side,
Where as a rose I will wake.
Though blind I'll follow
Every step you take.
Dianae, my muse,
Dianae, my solitude.
Cease to exist,
Rise to exist no more.
It's a deeper kind of slumber.

Johan Edlund
of Tiamat

Leaning into the afternoons, I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes. There, in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames; its arms turning like a drowning man's. I send out red signals across your absent eyes that wave like the sea, or the beach by a lighthouse. You keep only darkness my distant female; from your regard sometimes, the coast of dread emerges.

Leaning into the afternoons, I fling my sad nets to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes. The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you. The night gallops on its shadowy mare, shedding blue tassels over the land. Leaning into the afternoons, I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes.

Pablo Neruda
Translated by W.S. Merwin

All things which are similar, and therefore connected, are drawn to each other's power.

Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa
The Law of Resonance, 16th century

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There are signs which
arrive in your dreams

From Mayan Dream Walk
Richard Luxton with Pablo Balam

Savage Girls and Wild Boys:
A History of Feral Children.
by Michael Newton

Both poignant and disturbing, this book relates seven case studies of children who purportedly grew up in the wild, were raised by wolves, or were the victims of domestic neglect so extended and extreme that their circumstances and behaviour were little different from their feral counterparts. It is a sad fact that, having been rescued, these children seem afterwards to have led lives that were at times as troubled and as uncertain, if in very different ways, as their former neglected states.

What makes the book so compelling is the author's examination, not just of the children themselves, but also of these children's 'rescuers', these well-meaning individuals' reactions to their charges, and their sometimes conflicting motives for rehabilitating the children. In reading about both sides, we come to consider our own views, both of our romantic notions of 'The Wild', and of the conflict between apparently objective research and simple personal compassion.

The works were created using a variety of media, including oil paint, inks, acrylics and pencil, with additional photographic, sculpted and digital elements. Fossil deer skulls, ammonites, crinoids and other related material were photographed in Naturalis Museum, Leiden, and from the artist's collection. Cultural artefacts were photographed in the National Museum of Anthropology, Mexico City, and in the British Museum, London. The eagle's head is based upon a photograph by Martin Knowelden, and has been used with the artist's permission. The tiger was photographed in Regent's Park Zoo, London. Corals were photographed off the northwestern Australian coast. Some works feature diagrams and symbols from the undeciphered Voynich Manuscript, from Austin Osman Spare's Alphabet of Desire, and from the works of Robert Fludd, Athanasius Kircher and Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa. Featured lighting and landscape effects were created using Photoshop, Chaoscope, and Vue5 Esprit terrain generating software. Thanks to my understanding and forbearing models. Some images which have here been reworked incorporate cover artwork originally commissioned from myself by Penguin Books and Picador Books.

The header image is based upon the 1513 engraving The knight, Death and the Devil, by Albrecht Dürer.

Ownership of any copyrighted material appearing either as visual, written or audio files on this weblog, remains with the holders of the original copyright, and no further claim to such material by the author of this site is intended, and need not be inferred. It is believed that the limited use of any web resolution images for the purposes of identification and critical commentary qualifies as fair use.

Copyright of any material credited to Hawkwood remains with the author. The registered creative commons license below permits further use and distribution of Hawkwood's work subject to the three conditions: (1) The user attributes the work to 'Hawkwood', (2) The context is non-commercial, (3) The work remains unaltered. A link back to this weblog is appreciated.

Let her come to you
The end is naught but the real beginning
Resist, and your soul will know unrest
Let her find you, and you both will soar
Beyond the deepest nights
Beyond unconquered depths

This uncredited text is printed on a t-shirt of mine. If anyone reading this knows any further details about its author or source, I'd sure be grateful if you'd let me know! (Just leave it as a comment to my most recent post.)

Thanks - Hawkwood