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June 22 2017

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June 19 2017

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Odilon Redon, La Sphere (Globe)

Reposted fromglasgowkiss glasgowkiss

June 18 2017

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Louis Raemaekers (1869–1956), The Harvest Is Ripe.

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Louis Chalon

Circe and the Companions of Ulysses


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Vlastimil Beneš (Czech, 1919 - 1981)

Red cemetery (Červený hřbitov), 1966

Distemper, plaster

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Kurt Absolon (Austrian, 1925 - 1958)

Scene from the Old Testament, 1950

Oil on paper on canvas, 59 × 59.5 cm

wow, ja nie pamiętam już tego uczucia .-.
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The Sacred War compilation released in 1990 by Gymnastic Records.

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(Immagine dal “Quinta Essentia” by Leonhard Thurneisser to Thurn, 1574)

Hymn to Darkness


by John Norris (1657–1711)

 Hail, thou most sacred venerable thing!
   What Muse is worthy thee to sing?
 Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb
 All things, even Light, thy rival, first did come.
 What dares he not attempt that sings of thee,
   Thou first and greatest mystery?
 Who can the secrets of thy essence tell?
Thou, like the light of God, art inaccessible.

 Before great Love this monument did raise,
   This ample theatre of praise;
 Before the folding circles of the sky
 Were tuned by Him who is all harmony;
 Before the morning stars their hymn began
   Before the council held for man;
 Before the birth of either Time or Place
Thou reign’st unquestioned monarch in the empty space.

 Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign,
   But still half of the globe is thine.
 Here with a quiet, and yet awful hand,
 Like the best emperors, thou dost command.
 To thee the stars above the brightness owe,
   And mortals their repose below.
 To thy protection Fear and Sorrow flee
And those that weary are of light find rest in thee.

 Though light and glory be th’ Almighty’s throne,
   Darkness is his pavilion.
 From that his radiant beauty, but from thee
 He has his terrour and his majesty.
 Thus when he first proclaimed his sacred law,
   And would his rebel subjects awe,
 Like princes on some great solemnity,
H’ appeared in ’s robes of state and clad himself with thee.

 The blest above do thy sweet umbrage prize,
   When, cloyed with light, they veil their eyes;
 The vision of the Deity is made
 More sweet and beatific by thy shade.
 But we, poor tenants of this orb below
   Don’t here thy excellencies know,
 Till death our understandings does improve
And then our wiser ghosts thy silent night-walks love.

 But thee I now admire, thee would I choose
   For my religion, or my Muse.
 ’Tis hard to tell whether thy reverend shade
 Has more good votaries or poets made,
 From thy dark caves were inspirations given,
   And from thick groves went vows to Heaven.
 Hail then, thou Muse’s and devotion’s spring!
’Tis just we should adore, ’tis just we should thee sing.

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Anselm Kiefer - Grane, 1993.

June 17 2017

Po prostu należy robić to we właściwy sposób
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Mosaic Floor with Head of Medusa, Roman, about 115 - 150.

Reposted byblackenedsky blackenedsky
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From Valley of Fear… by Austin Osman Spare.

June 16 2017

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Marjorie Cameron.

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John Balance drawings from “BRIGHT LIGHTS AND CATS WITH NO MOUTHS” book [compiled by Liam Thomas and Thighpaulsandra].

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