Wyrd Words & Effigies Magazine Issue 1 by Katie Metcalfe

For this first issue of Wyrd Words & Effigies I needed to satisfy a burning desire to explore the inevitable dark. Before the task of putting together this publication, I would often find myself becoming lightheaded when thinking about my demise, and it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t uncommon for me to sometimes feel as though I wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t in possession of my body. Now, however, after months of compiling words and imager y on the subject, I feel stable. I feel in control of my body when I think of my own death. I feel, dare I say, comfor table with the idea that one day I am going to die. I have even developed the ability to feel at peace when I think about the black hood that will one day be pulled down over my eyes forever. Every issue of Wyrd Words & Effigies will be sectioned off into five segments: Trade, Conversation, Craft, Reflection and Exploration. Trade features goods that I have discovered on my internet wanderings. Conversation gets into the ver y bones of creators, thinkers and wanderers. Craft presents ar twork with a connection to the theme of the issue. Reflection spends time admiring and celebrating cultural gifts and, finally, Exploration works as a space for writers to explore the current theme in any way they see fit. For now, I would like to welcome you to the first issue of Wyrd Words & Effigies. I hope that the content rouses something in you, like it has in me. Katie Marie Metcalfe. June 2014 Find & Follow www.wyrdwordsandeffigies.wordpress.com www.facebook.com/WyrdWordsAndEffigies www.wyrdwordsandeffigieshaunt.tumblr.com www.pinterest.com/wyrdword

A c e l e b r a t i o n o f t h e s t r a n g e a n d s h a d o w y, of the damned and unseen. It is a path through

the

dark,

wild,

forbidden

places. A journey across boundaries, which separ ate this wor ld from other s. It will wor k t o f e e d i n t o a w i d e r, d a r k c o n s c i o u s n e s s , and, hopefully encour age individual growth as the moon continues on its path.

M I C H A E L A K N I Z OVA THE BOY AND DEATH

Creator, Editor & Writer Katie Marie Metcalfe / www.katiemariemetcalfe.weebly.com

Graphic Designer Anya Grainger / www.anyagrainger.co.uk

Logo & Front Cover Artwork Paul Watson / www.facebook.com/LaVeyArt

Proofreaders Dorrie Fearnley / www.facebook.com/howareyoureally MJ Kobernus / www.metaphysicalgeometry.blogspot.no

Publisher Norรฐland publishing www.nordlandpublishing.com www.facebook.com/nordlandpublishing

Raven Chant

Fur, Hide & Bone

The Mothers

05 Tessellate

I Am Just Going Outside

Status Update

The Small Beast

Frozen In Time

Cat Woman

Roland Mode

The Enchanted World: Night Creatures

Jane Doe

Sarah Wambold

Dark Matter

The Order Of The Dead

13 Noctir

Deep Trauma

On Suicide

Greeting The Crossfire

The River Rolls On

21 Fรถrgjord

The Door

Askold Art

Man Making

Black Insignia

75 Diagnostic

Katy Horan

Tomb & Womb

Meagen Meli

The Draught

Michaela Knizova

This Is How I Live Since You Have Died

Arx Atrata

To c o m e a c r o s s g o o d s w h i c h e p i t o m i s e t h e W y r d Wo r d s & E f f i g i e s v i s i o n i s n o e a s y feat. I am incredibly selective when choosing what to feature , so when something comes along that wr aps my breath around my t h r o a t , I k n o w i t â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s s o m e t h i n g t h a t m u s t b e shared. The items you will see over the next few pages were carefully selected for t h e i r q u a l i t y, u n i q u e n e s s a n d c o n n e c t i o n t o t h i s i s s u e â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s f o c u s - d e a t h .

FOCUS ON/ R AV E N C H A N T I like my outfits to include dominant hoods

waking piece I make. I conjure up all ideas

and sweeping fabrics, clothing that allows

in the cauldron of my mind, brewing storms

me to feel as though I’m not quite of this

of visions before they manifest into creations.

world. As you can probably imagine, my

My connection with the four elements fuel

heart started to sigh when I fell upon The

the fire within me to create. Being near water

Grim Reaper Hooded Scarf by Raven Chant

helps the ideas flow while releasing whatever

Designs. I also found myself yearning for the

holds me back. Working on my own time

Raven Skull necklace. The detail in this piece

to meet demands has also allowed me to

and its large size means it would work best

balance time so I always feel inspired.

with an uncomplicated, entirely black outfit.

Words From The Source “Ask and you shall receive”- words that keep my independent label going. Throughout the years, I have grown into the idea that one would never attain what they wanted or needed unless they asked, which is why I encourage others to simply ask for something custom if what they desired was not in stock.

Find & Follow

Inspired by nature, darkness, metal, and

www.etsy.com/uk/shop/RavenChantDesigns

occultism, my essence projects into every

www.facebook.com/RavenChantDesigns

T E S S E L L AT E A D O R N W I T H E S OT E R I C O R N A M E N TAT I O N .

Find & Follow www.facebook.com/tesl8 www.etsy.com/shop/tesl8

THE SMALL BEAST

ROLAND MODE

AWA K E N S O M E T H I N G P R I M A L .

D R A P E D I N DA R K N E S S .

Find & Follow

www.etsy.com/uk/shop/TheSmallBeast

www.facebook.com/RolandModeStudio

www.facebook.com/TheSmallBeast

www.etsy.com/shop/rolandmode

S A R A H WA M B O L D O N WO R K I N G W I T H T H E D E A D For this issue of Wyrd Words & Effigies, it was imperative to me that I was able to speak to someone who works with death on a daily basis. I wanted to put death on display in order to encourage learning, ripen curiosity and ideally support new thoughts, ideas and attitudes towards death and dying. The following interview is with Sarah Wambold, a young funeral entrepreneur, and freelance writer, who is working to establish a funeral home with a difference. What Wambold intends to do is create a community death space, a place where people can go and feel comfortable with death.

As a child, what was your attitude towards death? Like every child, I was curious. I happened to have wonderful parents who felt it was important to let me see and be a part of death, so when there was a funeral I would get to go and ask questions. Touch the body. See the sadness. I felt comfortable around it, which is probably why I do what I do. If you happened upon a dead animal, what was your first reaction? Once, when I was a teenager, I discovered photographs of a horse that had been sick and autopsied by a veterinarian. I’ll never forget the physical shock I felt at seeing a horse completely gutted like that. It was like a Tauntaun being split open but with so much more red. I have a harder time with animal death than human death, perhaps because I’m of that classification of people who appreciates the animal world more than the human. At what point in your life did you realise working with the dead was your calling, and how did your family react when you delivered the news? Were they wholly supportive, or did they try and make you reconsider? My family is the reason I am working with the dead. They noticed early on I had a sense about me that fit the dynamic of funerals; of loss and trauma. They weren’t shocked at all. My mom told me to apply to my first

funeral job and my dad has always told me I am a good teacher and am really creative. I think what I do now is a good combination. That being said, I feel for people who don’t have that support and I realize I am so lucky. It’s a hard industry to get in to; it takes you away from your own family and demands so much of you. Would you say spiritualism plays an important role for you on a personal and professional level? And how important would you say spiritualism is for someone who wants to work in this occupation? Contemporary funeral service is business as usual. Basically, work is work. Overall, when thinking about death -spiritualism might be useful just so you can feel like compassion stems from somewhere else, but I don’t believe in that. I really think compassion is animalistic; I think humans have brains that let them analyze situations and when loss occurs we feel it physically and mentally. Compassion is a natural reaction to that.That’s important and shouldn’t be negated just because it isn’t connected to a higher power or deity. We should embrace our compassionate sides that want us to heal and explore, not answer every unknown. You have a background in embalming, and have written widely about it. Was the process to become an embalmer a struggle? Was there ever a point that you thought you couldn’t continue? Embalming was a thrill to learn, it really was. I think most

medical students would agree that unfettered access to bodies is important and educational. But as a display piece, I don’t believe in it. I find it tacky, to be honest. It’s like plastic surgery but so beyond necessary. (at least with plastic surgery you get to enjoy your beauty while alive!) I know there are instances where restorative work might be necessary, like a serious wound, but that can be done with minimally invasive techniques. There really wasn’t a ‘moment’ I decided I couldn’t embalm anymore. It was more of a long breakup to be honest. I used to love embalming and seeing my handiwork get a reaction. But the reaction felt dishonest and I’m a purveyor of the truth, even when it’s a complete mess. How would you describe the experience of handling a dead body? Heavy! I’ve said this before- but seriously- dead bodies are heavy and if you’re not in a state to handle one, let someone else. Or just take a break, let them lie there (they’re not going anywhere) and then approach them at your own pace. Dead bodies are harmless.The old saying is that it’s the live ones you have to worry about. Can you name a selection of literary works that have helped you to better understand the field you are working in? “Being Dead,” by James Crace was one of the first fiction books I read after becoming a funeral director and it really had an impact on me. He doesn’t shy away from how bodies decompose and I loved the story of the two main characters wasting away together on the beach. I also think Susan Sontag’s “Illness as Metaphor” was a central text for me, just in terms of cutting back on the clichés of talking about disease, death and dying. It doesn’t deal directly with funeral industry work, but it was enlightening to me in that it forced me to examine how I step around certain issues or interpret a situation incorrectly. Metaphors can be useful emotionally, but I think it’s so important as a worker in the funeral

industry to have a clear understanding what is going on. Dead bodies are harmless, sadness is acceptable, grief doesn’t stop. You are striving to establish Continuum, a funeral home with a difference. Can you please explain how it will differ from your everyday funeral home? The funeral home space has changed so much since when it was first established. It has gone from a home to a place of business with all the emotions of loss commodified. If it is going to keep going, it needs to adjust so that people find value in it, instead of feeling taken advantage of. Continuum won’t be a funeral home at all; it will be a place where the conversation about death is started and then when a death does occurs, a place where people will feel comfortable dealing with it. It could be from watching a film, or hearing a lecture or seeing a painting. So it will be a community death space first, then a funeral home. Has it been difficult to find the necessary financial support you need to open Continuum? It’s been hard only because I’m not good at asking for money and I’m not crazy. I could get a business loan, but it would force me to act in a compromised way that I’m not comfortable with. So I’m bootstrapping it. I’m working on the fringes until I absolutely have to ask for money. How can art help us to heal after losing a loved one? I think everyone can think of a time when some work of art like music, film, photographs, etc, have helped them heal from a loss. We play songs on repeat. We read poems or recite prayers. Art expresses what we feel too overwhelmed to express ourselves. You volunteer for a natural burial park called Eloise Woods. Can you talk about the function of natural burials, and the importance of having these sorts of facilities available?

Natural burial is when there has been no attempt to keep the body from decomposing on a natural timeline. No embalming is done, no protective structures like vaults or steel gauge caskets are used. Wood caskets or shrouds are acceptable because they will breakdown naturally. Natural burial grounds are very important because they stand in direct opposition to the culture of death denial. They are peaceful places that help people accept our collective mortality in a very real way.You can literally see the cycle of life happening. Nowadays, when you think of your own death how do you feel? Some days relief, other days terror, I’m not going to lie. I’m human. I don’t know more about death than anyone, I just think about it a lot more. I actually think more about making sure my affairs are in order than I do about the eternal darkness part of it. That part of it I’m actually ok with. Would you say that HBO’s Six Feet Under was an accurate portrayal of the funeral industry in the United States? I think so. But you have to remember, while there are generalities across the industry that are true as well as character types, the industry is very different in every region. But for a Southern California family-owned funeral home, yes I would say it was accurate. I love that show, so maybe I’m just biased. Can you describe your ideal funeral? Hard to say. I have witnessed some very moving services that range from big affairs with musical numbers to direct burials where the only sound was the dirt hitting the casket. I think the best funerals are when family or friends do the organizing and speaking, because then you can see how the act of having a funeral is a very healing process for everyone involved.

Find & Follow www.sarahwambold.com www.twitter.com/Sah_Raw

As a child, what was your attitude to death? I was confronted with it at an early age. I was very accepting of, and even fascinated by the concept throughout my childhood.

NOCTIR On black metal & death Black metal is as tightly twisted together with death as the strands of a noose and I wanted to get under the skin of a musician who’s discography, for the most part, explores the act of death and dying. Frontman and vocalist of bands Nattsvargr, Nocturnal Abyss and Blackmoon, Noctir has a relentless drive to create black metal which harks back to the early days.Through his music, writing and radio show, he urges others to look to the past and embrace what came before.

Were you exposed to horror movies and the like as a young child? I grew up with horror. I was exposed to these films from the beginning and took to them, immediately. I remember, when I was quite young, going to the school library and checking out a book about old horror films. It featured a great deal of the old Universal Horror stuff, so I ended up making sure to seek those out. As well, it was the ‘80s, so there was a new Friday the 13th or A Nightmare on Elm Street movie being released just about every year. I was constantly surrounded by that stuff.

So you’re not interested in leaving a mark on the earth? I used to be very interested in leaving something behind. However, it has been incredibly difficult to manage that which I envisioned, perfectly. And in the last several years I’ve realised in a sense that it doesn’t matter. A hundred years from now, no one is going to give a shit anyway. Most of my attempts have been failures, as it is. I’d be just as pleased to fade away peacefully, have every shred of evidence that I ever existed wiped away. What are your thoughts on depressive black metal bands who encourage people to kill themselves?

Definitely. I was mostly exposed to vinyl, early on, which placed more emphasis on the cover art, for sure. There was Motörhead, Iron Maiden, Kiss and so on, all of which I found interesting. Though the music wasn’t as good, I really liked the covers for some of Ozzy’s albums, when I was little. I kept a copy of the “Bark at the Moon” record in my room, as decoration, since I liked the imagery of the werewolf and the moon. This was probably when I was about six. I’d also taken a full page magazine ad for “The Ultimate Sin” and put it on my wall, since it looked pretty evil and cool to me, at the time.

I think most of the people in the DSBM scene aren’t very depressed in the first place. It’s just another trend. Most of it possesses no atmosphere of feeling to begin with, thus failing to convey any sort of feeling. It’s mostly just empty, rather than being depressive or melancholic. Many are also really poor songwriters, lacking even a fraction of the quality of a band like Burzum or Strid, both of whom seem to be the main influences for these bands. The vibe I get is that most of it is really forced and disingenuous. As for advocating their listeners to commit suicide, it just seems like more posturing and comes off as rather asinine. That said, the world would be better off if at least six billion people were dead, self-inflicted or not.

When you think of Nocturnal Abyss, what bands come to mind that inspired the music that you created for the debut album?

Can you talk about the creation of the album? Was it a straightforward process or was it quite a challenge?

Were you drawn to album artwork as a youngster?

The primary influence was the older material from Mütiilation.We hoped to capture a similar bleak and dreary feeling, yet to also infuse a more hateful element as well. Moonblood was another one of the main inspirations. We definitely had older things in mind, not wanting anything to do with the sort of dime-a-dozen, generic, modern trash that pollutes so much of the scene these days. Did any other musical influence contribute towards the creation of the album? Without consciously trying, it seems that a bit of early Burzum seeped in, influencing at least one track or so. I can hear some inspiration from the debut and Det Som Engang Var, as opposed to what most would expect when someone mentions Burzum, as bands usually pick up on the Filosofem sound more often than not. Nowadays, when you think of your own death, how do you think of it?

Peace. Ending. Something I should have done earlier. Relief. It is always on my mind, and I am convinced that I will die by my own hands, eventually.

I knew precisely what the concept should be and how it should sound, from the moment that I decided to resurrect the project. Upon meeting Obskuritas, everything fell together pretty quickly. Because of injuries, I am unable to play the guitar anymore, so I had to describe in great detail what I wanted. As he came up with material, I had to make some minor changes, but it worked out far better than I expected. His interpretation of my vision also added another dimension that would have been lacking otherwise. So what about the title? Was it in your head from the beginning? No, not really. There were a couple of working titles, throughout, but nothing was final until the last song was recorded. It comes from a story I’ve been working on for some years, and there are a couple of references to this in the lyrics, in a vague sort of way. Once the album was done, something clicked and then the concept for the cover art fell into place as well.

Concerning cover art. How important do you think cover art is today? Do you think it’s losing its importance and that people aren’t bothered about it anymore? How important is it to you and to your music? To me it’s very important. As it regards other people, most people won’t ever see the cover art. More people are downloading the album than purchasing it. I often would sit and hold the CD or cassette or vinyl in my hands and look through the lyrics and liner notes while I listened to an album. Otherwise, I’d prop it up on top of my stereo, so that I could see it while I was listening to the music. I always associate the music with the cover. When I hear a song, I’m picturing the artwork in my head. So for me, and for Nocturnal Abyss it’s very important that the cover art is a reflection of the music. That the aesthetics tie in with the music is important for all bands. And a lot of times they miss the mark with cover art. If the interior doesn’t fit with the music, it spoils the experience I think. If you look at a couple of the re-releases Darkthone did, with Ravishing Grimness and Plaguewielder, Fenriz mentioned that he wasn’t really bothered by the cover art during those years and he just slapped whatever on the cover because he didn’t care. Then as they did the re-releases, they actually had new art developed for these albums so they would look better. Some people just take a random picture in the woods, with no sense of atmosphere. It’s not bleak, it’s not dark, there’s just some green leafy trees and they make it black and white. And it’s not even a good picture. Just a random shot I could take speeding down a highway. People are really not putting enough effort into the cover art. It shouldn’t all be image, obviously, but the aesthetics should tie in with the music. You’re inspired by winter landscapes, cold temperatures, the winter months. How would you say winter impacts on your creativity? Are you more creative in winter than you are in spring? Absolutely. A lot of people complain of the “winter blues”, but I’m the opposite. Regardless of what is happening, my mood drops when winter ends and this lasts until the first chills of autumn arrive. Then, I am somewhat lifted and I feel a lot more motivated. I want to get more things done during that time.The Nocturnal Abyss album was recorded during the winter months. The recent Blackmoon EP was done in the autumn and the Nattsvargr EP was done in the winter. I almost never record in the summertime, as it doesn’t feel right. Honestly, I would be surprised if I am the only one that feels this way. With autumn as the season of dying and winter the season of

cold and silent death, I would expect most Black Metal bands to be writing or recording material during this time. Your music is inspired by a lot of early black metal. what are your thoughts on the bands rising today? I hate most modern bands. The majority of them lack roots and don’t understand what they’re doing. They listen to a few recent releases and try to imitate what they just heard.They don’t know the background...I heard a great quote recently - “They know the notes to play but they don’t know why they’re playing them.” And I think that describes a great deal of modern bands. They’re just cluttering the scene, polluting it really, with mediocre music that has no meaning. Their mere existence makes it harder to find those few that truly understand the essence of this music and have a message to put out there, some sort of feeling to convey. So what would you say are the running themes throughout the album? Death, dying. Transcendence beyond the living world. Escape from the curse of existence. Would you say the album is something of a death note? At the end of 2012 I decided to stop everything that I was doing. I was done with the radio programme. I was done with my bands. Things were getting worse and worse and after a couple of months I decided that I wanted to leave one last thing behind. Something really bleak and dark. I resurrected Nocturnal Abyss and the album was intended to be my final work.The plan was to make the album, get it released, after which I was going to be done. Then when we were recording the album, near the end, David (Parland) passed away, and it kind of turned my world on its side. And I almost stopped recording the album and gave up on it. Then I decided to move ahead with it and finish off the last song or two, and dedicate the album to David and also the split album that we’d planned, I decided I had to get that out there too. So, for the time being, I’m still here, living out this sentence for a bit longer. That’s how you see life, as a curse? Absolutely. It’s a punishment. It’s something that feels wrong. I find myself at odds with nearly every aspect of life in this modern world. There is a deep feeling, even during less miserable times, that I don’t belong among the living.

Find & Follow www.ritesoftheblackmoon.tripod.com www.nocturnal-abyss.tumblr.com

A R X AT R ATA T H E S E A S O N O F D E AT H The black metal scene in the United Kingdom has, in my opinion, only a select number of bands which do the genre justice. I have found myself edging away from certain acts, and was beginning to lose hope that I would come across another band which actually ‘did it’ for me. Fortunately, a friend randomly sent me a YouTube link to Arx Atrata, and I was immediatly captivated. I’m proud to present this interview with Arx Atrata and once you’re done reading it, I suggest you check out their exquisite debut album ‘Oblivion.’

My research failed to lead me to uncovering the history of Arx Atrata. Would you care to talk about the band’s origins and its members? It was always the intention to reveal very little about who is behind Arx Atrata, for no reason other than to allow the music to stand (or fall) on its own merits.The first track was spread online in an attempt to reach interested listeners without relying on word of mouth, prior reputation, label promotion, or awareness in a local scene. Thankfully this succeeded! Currently the band is a solo project, with all composition, performance, recording, and production responsibilities handled by one person. It will probably remain this way unless there is a specific demand for live performances in future. How long was it from the formation of the band, to the completion and release of your debut album Oblivion? Gathering ideas for the first track started back in late 2010, with the intention that the album would be finished the following year. Obviously that did not happen! It took almost 18 months to create the skeletons of the 5 tracks that make up Oblivion, and a further 6 months to complete them. As with almost all musicians these days, the album was written and recorded during the evenings and weekends to fit

around other commitments, hence the extended time-scales. But in a way this is a blessing as it gives you time to reflect on the tracks and ensure you are producing the best work you can – not always practical if you are trying to fit everything in to a fixed number of studio sessions over a short period. What is the origin of the name Arx Atrata, and how did you come to choose it? Did you find deciding on a name difficult? Choosing a name was incredibly difficult! Perhaps one of the key challenges here was the need for a name that came with few connotations about what the music would sound like or what topics the lyrics would address, as these are likely to be fluid over the band’s lifetime. Arx Atrata is Latin – or something very close to Latin! - for ‘blackened citadel’. The choice of Latin, essentially a dead language, imparts some sort of timelessness as well as a hint of times that are now forever lost to us. Hopefully the name as a whole reflects the music well. What are your thoughts on the metal scene in the UK? Would yourself an enthusiastic part of tend to distance yourself from and social media forums?

current black you consider it, or do you gigs, festivals

The UK black metal scene is certainly vibrant at the

moment. Winterfylleth and Wodensthrone are starting to reach the wider audiences they deserve, for example. And there are a whole bunch of great bands right now starting to make their mark: Fen, Cnoc An Tursa, Old Corpse Road, Fyrdsman, A Forest Of Stars, etc. But to some degree it’s an arbitrarily geographical division; a large part of the recent development has arguably been about bringing in outside influences, such as the folk-tinged aspects Primordial and Agalloch have been honing for years, or the soundscapes you might get from Alcest or Wolves In The Throne Room. Not to mention Drudkh, Negură Bunget, Dornenreich... perhaps what is surprising is how little of the influence on the UK scene has come directly from Scandinavia, all things considered. Do Arx Atrata fit into all this? That’s for others to

decide. But it is a good time to be writing black metal, as long as you are bringing something interesting to the table. Oblivion is an unforgettable journey. It’s an album which harnesses the atmospheric elements of black metal, and also the harsher, more primitive essentials. Can you talk about the creation of the album? Was it a straightforward process? What would you say were the biggest challenges? Writing the album was essentially three separate tasks, though each were repeated and revisited many times during the songwriting period. The first aspect is deciding exactly what sort of music to write, which influences should be felt most strongly, and how the different instruments should be balanced to meet those needs. The second aspect is writing parts

that meet those criteria, ensuring the message comes through while attempting to steer clear of musical clichés. The third part is arranging all these parts into a set of cohesive songs, ensuring each song is its own journey as well as making the album a unified whole. Time constraints were already mentioned above so the only other big challenge to speak of was trying to get the balance of elements right. In particular, making sure that the keyboards or guitars did not dominate each other was vital to the vision of maintaining light and shade throughout. Whether that was a success or not is for others to judge! Can you talk about the cover art for Oblivion and how you came to the art we are presented with today? Do you think album cover art in general is losing is importance, what with the increase of digital downloading and streaming sites such as Spotify? The art for Oblivion was made by a talented graphic artist long before the album was finished; it was just luck that the work was available for Arx Atrata when the release date was approaching. It was chosen as it is stark and cold, fitting one of the album’s main themes perfectly, that of the inhuman cruelty of nature. Hopefully you see the artwork and know what kind of music you are going to get. Having said that, I do think that album art is less important these days. Few of us spend our days idly thumbing through collections of 12” vinyl. But true fans usually do demand a physical copy of the albums they love, and high quality album art shows that you respect that choice. What music did you find yourself drawn to during the creation of Oblivion? Ultimately my musical interests remain constant no matter what I am working on, so there is little I can say on this that would be relevant. Occasionally it would be useful to fire up the album of one of the influences to have a reminder of the musical landscape, but on the whole, writing music requires focusing on that rather than other people’s music. What would you say are the principal influences for the music of Arx Atrata?

Find & Follow www.arxatrata.bandcamp.com www.facebook.com/ArxAtrata

Oblivion owes a heavy debt to the German band Coldworld, and Swiss act Paysage D’Hiver. Both bands demonstrated that black metal could co-exist with keyboards without going down the symphonic route a la Dimmu Borgir or even the industrial route like Samael. But the other main aspect influencing our sound (though

maybe not so apparent in the end product) is the folkinspired aspects of bands like Agalloch, Winterfylleth, and Primordial, who use the instrumentation and approaches of traditional music as effective seasoning for their musical meal rather than the incongruous side-dish you sometimes get with bands that tack on a fiddle or accordion to what is otherwise a fairly straightforward metal sound. Take those two major considerations, throw in hints of the modern “post-black” scene (though arguably that is a misnomer) and shades of blackened doom (eg. Forest Silence, Woods of Ypres, Forest Stream, Raventale) and that’s what Arx Atrata is aspiring to be. Your debut album has been received with astonishing success. Did you expect such a response? How does it feel? The response has completely exceeded all expectations. This means there is a bit of pressure in terms of ensuring a follow-up is of equal quality! But that is a good problem to have. All you want as a musician operating in this sort of genre is to be able to create the music that matters to you, and hopefully to be supported by fans enough to be able to continue to do so, and that is exactly what has happened. As such, it’s a great feeling. The band is based in Nottingham, but the music would argue otherwise. When you create your music, is your mind far from home? I think a lot of people, when they hear black metal, half-expect all the musicians to live in a hut out in the wilderness, only one harsh winter storm away from a Valfar-like demise. But the reality is usually much more mundane; we all have day jobs and fairly regular lives, which usually entails living in or a near a city. And recording an album usually requires that you have access to guitars, amplifiers, computers, and all sorts of technology. But modern life arguably brings with it a new kind of solitude, not one of physical distance, but one of anonymity and disassociation. It’s not hard, even for a city-dweller surrounded by others, to find themselves feeling alone, and the urban environment can often be no more welcoming than a winter landscape. So imagining desolate and barren places is not difficult to do. Besides, there are many other forms of escapism that can be drawn upon for inspiration when looking out the window will not suffice: books, films, and even some video games can set the mood. What impact would you say winter has on you creatively?

Very little, to be honest! As mentioned above, writing is about getting into the mindset, which can be done a variety of ways. Besides, an artist can rarely afford to wait for inspiration to come to them; whatever the field, art is mostly about forcing yourself to create even when you’re not completely in the mood for it. And waiting for winter to make itself truly known is difficult in a city that has only seen a handful of snowy days in the last few years. The spirit of winter comes from within! When it comes to collecting music, what is your personal preference? I exclusively buy CDs, but they are immediately ripped onto the computer for listening. This is an interesting tension, I think. I have no interest in having to carry plastic discs around with me when I want to hear music, and the freedom to be able to quickly listen to what I want, whatever order, from whatever device, is important to me. But as a recording artist – with Arx Atrata and other projects – I know that purchasing CDs is essential for supporting the bands. Acts like this can’t make money from gigs and the demand for merchandise is too low to even cover the costs of getting the merch made. And streaming sites pay absolutely nothing. So album purchases are the only game in town if you want to support the smaller bands. The choice is between CDs and digital, and I like having the album art, sleeve notes, and a physical backup in case my computer is hit by lightning, so I’ll be sticking with buying CDs for the foreseeable future. What can we expect from Arx Atrata in the coming months? Currently I am busy with my other musical project, but there is a tentative plan to produce a second run of the Oblivion album so that those who missed out on the digipak can still get a physical copy. Ideally that will happen in the next month or two. After that, there will be some reflection on how to approach a second album. There’s no point retreading the same winter theme for another fifty minutes of music so the main challenge will be to evolve the music in a fresh direction, interpreting the influences differently and coming up with a new subject for the lyrics and titles. I’m not a believer in re-inventing a band’s sound though, so have no fear – if you liked the first album, you’ll almost certainly enjoy the second, however it ends up sounding. Writing for that will commence later in the year.

What’s Förgjord’s back story? When did the band come into existence? It was almost twenty years ago when Prokrustes formed the band with two other members. Soon I was asked to play the guitar. Nothing at that time was done, only few rehearsal tapes with a four track, but it wasn’t serious cause some of us were just learning to play their instruments. Must say that it was fucking frustrating at times. And soon those two other guys left the band, luckily. It was only then when two of us were left, we chose the name Förgjord as a symbol of our vision. We’ve been friends, or more like brothers, since we were kids. We have grown together to heavy metal, then to thrash, seen the rise and fall of death metal, and finally fallen deeper into the depths of black metal. So if you can see Förgjord more like a brotherhood than a band, then one sees that it’s always been there. That’s one of the reasons why we’ve done this so long without splitting up, even if there has been big moments of silence between releases. Nowadays we are more complete when we got BLK to play drums. Now there are three members under the banner of Förgjord we have been more active than in many years. There’s been a number of name changes within the band’s history. What made you settle for and what is the meaning behind it?

FÖRGJORD Black Metal From The Land Of A thousand lakes Förgjord are, in my opinion, one of Finland’s supreme black metal expor ts. Delving into Finland’s dark histor y as well as contemporarily blood soaked tragedies, they craft black metal which works to sour the soul of the listener and settle deep inside their bones.

Those “name changes” were in our early days. But cause we didn’t have any demo out, we were free to change the name whenever we wanted. You know, we hadn’t any demo out so we could work as untitled or try different name ideas. Gotta confess that some of those ideas were quite embarrassing and full of clichés, but we were young, naïve and the flame had just started to burn. But when name Förgjord was chosen, then we were ready. And that was something like 15 years ago. It’s been a long time so I can’t remember how we found the name, must be something that we found from a book. “Förgjord” is Swedish word (and Swedish is second official language spoken here in Finland…) and long story short is that it means “cursed” and “destroyed”. But it isn’t simple like that. In old times people were really scared of bad things (fex, bears, demons, gods) so they tried not to speak their “true names” out loud cause they thought they would invite the bad things

to them. If someone said the name out loud, the he/ she was cursed (aka “Förgjord”) It fits really well for us and I can’t think any other name, not a single one. It’s been burnt onto our hearts so deeply, so even if the name (or the band) dies out, the scars will be there forever. The music world has changed almost beyond recognition since Förgjord was established. How would you describe your journey through the changes, and what are the benefits of being in a band at this current time? Most notorious change is that nowadays everyone can record anything really easily. And that isn’t any good thing at all. In the old days, bands needed to go to real studios just to make a demo. It cost so much that none would go there unprepared with unfinished songs or without rehearsing. Even four track equipment were pricy then. We used four track but couldn’t afford it, so in first years we had to loan one. With four track you have to keep things really simple. It’s just four tracks for drums, bass, guitar and vocals so you couldn’t always do what you dreamt about. No doubling the guitars, no backing vocals, no proper mixing etc. And what you played was there, you couldn’t just copy and paste over the mistakes or effect guitars afterwards during the mixing. It was just you, your playing skills and your riffs, music on its purest form. We had our own ways, for example recording one guitar track with drums to the drum track or we used bass as a second guitar and stuff like that. That was then and this is now. Of course we too have upgraded our recording equipment but those days have taught me that things need to be simple. One just can’t hide behind sugar wall soundscape just to hide that their songs suck. Many people do that, even I have tried use too much tricks but then went back to my roots again. I still have two four trackers in use. I don’t want to evolve as musician cause I want it to sound pure, fresh and ugly. Progression is regression in our way of Black Metal. As a matter of fact, I don’t see any benefits in being a band these days. Maybe it was “cooler” in our younger days, but nowadays I don’t see it that way. Förgjord isn’t a band like I said. We don’t jam in our rehearsal place or go there to “have some fun with friends”. It’s our instrument to express our feelings and visions. Together we are just stronger than we are as individuals.

and this is something I really admire. Can you talk about the themes you’ve explored, and possibly some you’re interested in covering within future releases? We try to speak from our hearts. So we don’t use just one particular theme in our lyrics but say whatever there is in our minds. Be it different feelings (hate, despair, madness) or different happenings (murder stories and other tragic happenings from Finnish history). The Finnish man’s mind is dark and we have some really tragic stories where minds collapse and blood shall flood. Some of those happenings haven’t ever clarified and we are possessed of those old stories. Take songs like “Suohauta” (Kyllikki Saari’s murder) or “Tulilahti 1959” (double homicide of Eine Nyyssönen and Riitta Pakkanen), there one can find mysteries that haven’t ever been solved. They are national mysteries, like Jack the Ripper or the Zodiac killer are to the wider world. And in our forth-coming release one can hear stories of “Surman Virta” (about local man who hanged himself in a shallow shed by the river after stabbing his wife) or “Kerpeikkari” (about Juhani Aataminpoika who killed twelve people in his killing spree in 1849) Those stories are really important for us and present Finnish history’s darker side. We just have recorded a new split CD with Nekrokrist SS and are now doing forthcoming releases. So we are really creative these days. From now on one doesn’t have to wait several years between new records.

You state that for Förgjord black metal is first an ideology, then music. Can you elaborate on this? Think I already commented about this above. But I think that ideology comes first not only in Förgjord’s case but it should come first in all Black Metal. Remember that its BLACK metal and not black METAL. Of course our lyrics present our ideology, but it’s also present in song structures and the way it is presented (musically and visually). Black metal isn’t just cool sounding music, it’s elitist and dangerous, or at least it should be.

What plans does the band have for 2014?

The music you cast out into the world is unapologetically raw and aggressive, powerful and enormously diverse. There’s always another layer to discover. What is your song writing process, and how do you know when a song is done? Usually it takes several months when I won’t touch any instruments at all. I need to get ideas and visions to my head and soon they start to grow bigger and bigger. And after that I have to grab the guitar and let it burst, have to let demons out. So usually I sit down with my guitar until the song is ready from start to finish. Let’s take this month for example. It was at Samhain (30.10.) when I did a demo of first new song for our forthcoming release. Now, after less than four weeks, I’ve composed and already demoed seven songs (something like 30 mins). So at this time I’m really inspired and try to get these feelings, demons, melodies and lines out of my head. It usually takes a month or two, and after that I’m done and exhausted and don’t need to touch a guitar for the

Like stated above, we have recorded a split (or more like a collaboration) CD with our comrades Nekrokrist SS. I know it pisses off many people cause we play with an “evil NSBM band” but that’s not the point. NK-SS have been our friends since the beginning, so it was natural to do a split with someone so close to us. We have talked about a split for several years, but at summer we managed to finally create it. And when I mentioned that it’s more like collaboration than a split, it’s because we did some special tracks which involve members from both bands. Just wait and see. Even if that split isn’t out yet, our forthcoming release is already composed and we started to record it. I know it’s a cliché to say this, but one can expect our strongest material in years. Or best maybe even ever.

next half-year or so. I can’t and don’t like to compose with schedules. If I have to play something when I’m not in my inspired mood, it turns out nothing but shit and it really frustrates me. That’s one of the reasons why we don’t like to jam/rehearse/do gigs. I know that it’s quite unorthodox way to run a band, but it suits us best. That’s how we can keep the quality up.

that suits for us. Luckily Finnish mentality is full of pride and honesty, so there is lots of self-respect and that means quality. Without any self-respect everyone would flood markets with half-assed releases.

Finland unleashes some of the strongest Black Metal acts. What are your feelings towards the music your fellow countrymen create? Do you feel a strong sense of pride?

We don’t take any clear influences. By that I mean that we don’t follow any particular bands but more the overall old school mentality. Black Metal once was pure and ready so it don’t need to evolve. We try to keep our music pure but still fresh.

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You weave intelligent themes in with your releases,

www.facebook.com/Forgjord

Finland is a small country so almost everyone knows someone who knows someone. So circles are small and

Which bands would you say fuel your creative fire? Do you primarily find inspiration in early Black Metal or is there a craving for new sounds?

Where can we find Förgjord on the web? We don’t have a website because we don’t need one. We only have a Facebook infopage. One can drop an email to us and ask whatever he/she wants and we shall reply.

Can you please talk about Askold Art, the services it provides and why you decided to set it up? Askold art is my art project. I draw covers, logos and other visual art for Black/Death/Thrash metal bands, projects, labels etc. I had two main reasons to start this project – I always liked to draw and I have been a huge metal fan for the most part of my life.The other reason is that I probably want to leave my trace in history. What is your background in art? Are you selftaught? Yes, I’m self-taught. I liked to draw since my childhood. I tried to draw some battle scenes and made attempts to depict British and Nazi bombers – to my childhood imagination they had some violent power. Later when I started listening to metal music all my writing books were covered with drawings of pentagrams, demons and attempts to copy the Morbid Angel logo and logos of other similar bands. After my graduation from school I told my parents that I wanted to become a designer, but they told me that it was an unclaimed specialty and I had to study another faculty. So I spent a lot of time working in different places including physical labor. But now I think I proved to my parents that I can earn my living with what I do. I am very interested as to what life is like as an illustrator in Russia. Are you supported in your career choice? It is very interesting to be an illustrator and communicate with people from all over the world through the Internet. As for support, certainly it is good to have it, but I work not for recognition, I’m guided by my inner creativity.

A S K O L D A RT DA R K A RT F O R T H E M E TA L H O R D E S One of the things I enjoy most in life is getting under the skin of an artist. I want to know what makes them tick and what drives them to create. The Facebook page for Askold Art was one I couldn’t leave alone. I was captivated, and found myself returning to it time and again. Before long, I decided I needed to find out about the artist and what fuels his dark, creative fire.

How would you describe the metal community where you live in Russia? As I am a musician myself I often play gigs in different cities of Russia, mostly in big ones. The closer to the capital, the wider the metal community. But unfortunately many clubs are dominated by modern and other fake styles of metal. There is another style popular in our country, so-called “Russian Rock”, but the metal community call it “shit rock” because most of the time musicians lack both creativity and technical skill. Fortunately in recent years a lot of metal labels have appeared and some Russian bands have become famous all over the world - Blackdeath, Pseudogod, Old Wainds, for example.

For the time being it is possible to download almost anything for free in our country. Recently the anti-piracy law was introduced, but I’m not sure whether it works. As for me I sometimes download music, but I always buy albums that impress me on CD or vinyl. What’s it like seeing your work grace the cover of a CD or t-shirt? Certainly it’s a pleasure. A few times people whom I didn’t know came to me at gigs in Moscow and Saint-Petersburg and thanked me for logos I made for their bands – that was really great. How would you describe your perfect working environment?

You create work for a whole host of different metal genres, including death, black and thrash, and I’m wondering what the process is like. For example, when you’re creating a black metal logo, do you immerse yourself in the music while you’re creating? Same when it comes to creating a piece of artwork for a death metal band. Do you feel that you need to have death on your stereo when you’re doing so? When I start to work with band of one or another style I always try to understand its ideology and listen to all their music, read their texts. After that different images appear in my mind and I convert them into an artwork or a logo. Most people nowadays would say Facebook is their best promotional tool when it comes to their art. Does this apply to you too, or do you believe other methods are more effective at getting your work seen? Yes, this applies to me as a lot of my orders come from Facebook. In Russia we have social network “V kontakte,” a lot of my orders from Russia and CIS-states come from it. Besides, a lot of people hear about me from each other. I make a logo or artwork for a band and they tell their friends about me. Wordof-mouth advertising. In the future I plan to start a website. But the problem now is that I can’t make a logo for Askold Art. Probably I’m searching for something which will suit

To have a productive work day I get up about 7-8 a.m. and get down to work. I used to work till late at night and slept late, but that exhausted me. I almost always listen to music while working on one or another artwork, it not only helps to create particular atmosphere but also makes me feel less tired. Recently I prefer to listen to Ufomammut, Dark Buddha Rising, Fading Colors and Depeche Mode while working. To have a rest and relax I walk in the park and go to the Gym. I usually finish work about 11p.m. perfectly and cannot possibly find it. Outside of music, what do you feel inspires your artwork? I derive my inspiration from beholding of nature, walks in forest and mountain hiking (I live near to the very beautiful Ural Mountains). I used to live in the centre of my city and thought it was comfortable. But then I grew tired of fuss, traffic etc. and moved to the suburbs. It is quiet here and the air is fresh, besides there are two beautiful parks near my house. What are your thoughts about how music is accessed nowadays? Are you all for downloading and services such as Spotify? What‘s your personal preference?

Apart from your art work, what else do you do with your creative energy?

What tools do you use to create your work, and what would you say is your favourite piece of equipment? I usually draw my artworks on watercolor paper. First I make pencil sketch, then I finish it with liners of different thickness (usually Faber Castell and Micron). After that I scan it and work on it in Photoshop. As for logos I paint them with pencil too, then with liner – and after the sketch is approved by client (band) I make the final version vectoring it in Corel Draw. Recently I bought a graphic tablet and star ted experimenting with colors. Hope that soon I will be able to make digital ar t.

Sometimes I make logos and other artworks for “common” (not connected with metal) people and companies, but not very often because it’s a difficult work for me, which demands some moral strength. I also play in a Black Metal band. www.pogost.bandcamp.com What are some of the difficulties that you’ve come up against as an illustrator? The main difficulties are connected with a lack of education and drawing technique, but I’m trying to remedy the situation, constantly perfecting my skills and gaining experience. I always look ahead and will do my best to get over all difficulties.

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the passing of time. Can you talk about the relationship you have with death, and why it plays such a prominent role within your work? I’m intensely nostalgic and I have this silly attempt to make everything last a little bit more than these bones and mind. Nonetheless, the passing of time is a love-hate relationship for me.

B L AC K I N S I G N I A TO W E A R TO T H E G R AV E I am a hunter for unique and unusual things that thrive in the shadows. Most days, I retreat from my hunt unsatisfied. But there are times when I happen across something wonderfully out of the ordinary, such as handmade jewellery creator Black Insignia. Can you please outline what Black Insignia is, and the sorts of goods it provides? Black Insignia is handmade jewellery/ornaments inspired by the occult, mysticism, memento mori, ritualistic symbols and nature. The main focus is in the brooches/pins that go from black metal related to death, occult and nature, where I can use my photography to create tiny framed wearable photos. It can also be found in earrings, locket necklaces, pendants and rings.

When did your fascination with the occult begin, and how does your interest infiltrate your daily life? I was born in autumn, December in the 80’s. If the place, time, epoch, etc..influences who you are then I can say this was embedded in me since my first breath. Through many ways the passion towards the occult has grown; cinema, literature, music, history, mythology, religion, post-mortem photography, and that’s how it’s still present in my daily life. It would appear that you are enamoured by

More than 12 years ago I had the blessing of reading “Loucura” by Mário de Sá-Carneiro, it approach this topic in a speechless way, and this feeling suddenly became a strong living thing in me. I also got in touch with one poem of Cesário Verde stated on the narrative “Ironias do Desgosto”, that I didn’t know until then. The beauty of it is the irreversible truth that everything that we love is going to get old, to get ill, to die/disappear/vanish, it will become dust. I think it was one of the main influences on me to become more passionate about everything, along with that to give more importance to the simple things in life… with that you can understand the fragility and the mortality of everything. By accepting Death as a part of Life and as something that all of us are going reach you are able to construct mind peace. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time, so I’m in love with it, well, I’m tragically romantic, even if you could not say that, but I blame literature for it.

The brooches you create are stunning and imaginative. Can you please talk about the process you go through to create them? The hard work part is the inspiration.You never have a control of it; even so you can have discipline. The practical part is just going from one step to another. It is important to you that the pieces you make aren’t massively reproduced. Can you please talk about the reason you prefer to make only a few pieces of the same item? It’s a way of respecting people. Every human being is one of a kind and cannot be reproduced. Nowadays, everyone is fighting to be different, so everyone is different. But only a few are authentic and unique, because they practice their own nature. Inline with that, I act. And of course, it could not be any other way, since it’s handmade in my free time and since I always have diverse ideas and projects in my head… is difficult to focus on only one nest… Black Metal plays a fundamental role within your creations. Can you talk about what sparked off your infatuation with BM and the function it has in your daily life?

because there are so many different epochs I would adore to have lived in. Most of the experiences I would love to have lived are related with music, but also linked with arts, culture or spirituality… why? Well… it’s my cup of tea. Naming a few… Victorian Era; in the 20’s in Portugal to drink red wine and have talks with Fernando Pessoa; in Tibet before the monstrous usurpation; to see Elvis and Maria Callas live in concert; in the 60’s to get mad seeing The Doors, to slide to the 70’s to see Ziggy Stardust, Joy Division, Black Sabbath in that magnificent concert in Paris 1970, and to run another decade to get the speechless pleasure of seeing Nirvana live concerts and a lot of Black Metal concerts of the 90’s. Do you enjoy listening to music while you work, or is silence more preferable? Music always depends on my mood; silence only depends on my mind… there is no rule for that… but usually I work in silence, since music has a profound impact on me. Talking about something that is linked with profound feelings & experiences is always strange and intricate… …Regarding the link with Black Insignia which was created from the inside to the outside… I started to create some ornaments to myself; I wanted to possess something made by myself that expressed my cult towards some bands that I really worship (although there are pieces created only by customer’s demand). I grabbed the concept of the old school pins, that for me are such a boring piece and don’t emphasise the magic and don’t offer a majestic touch which some bands or subjects deserve. So it was a way to reverence them in a visual and wearable way. I think I cannot describe better what black metal is to me than it’s something occult and raw that runs in my bloodstream, whether I’m listening to it at home or in a concert or even when I’m creating it. Can you please name some jewellery designers who you find particularly inspiring, and what it is about them that draws you to their work? There are some jewellery designers that I have discovered a few months ago that are really inspiring. They have different approach that is not patent in Black Insignia for the moment, due to different materials and techniques used. I’m really fond of, BoneLust, Lauren Kane, Wolftea to name

a few. All of them have in common the use of taxidermy, bones and nature elements, which I truly find irresistible and admire. And here we could go again to talk about the passing of time, death… I also appreciate the pieces of Bloodmilk, Ovate & vintage goodies found on antique fairs. And of course, the Portuguese Filigree is one of a kind. Since the Roman times the Portuguese filigrana artisans have mastered their art meticulously to create very delicate, intricate and amazing jewellery pieces. What do you do to maintain your motivation and passion for your occupation? For me inspiration it’s what moves me. Once you have it, your mind is willing to know/learn more, to create more, and to express more. The feedback from people is really important whether we are talking about friends or simply the people that follow and acquire my work and support the project with kind messages. It’s really good to have the opinion from all of them. Without them Black Insignia would not exist. I’m sincerely grateful to all. If you had the choice to live through a different time, what period would you choose, and what are the reasons for your choice? That’s a difficult question to answer in a one shot option,

Much of your work represents nature. Can you talk about the connection that you have with the outside world, and how important it is to you as an individual on a personal level? Nature has always a preponderant role in my life. I had the privilege of growing up in the countryside surrounded with vast plains; animals; lonely trees; a vast sky, where I could

observe big, red full moons and to watch around midnight a great white owl that passed by my window. It is almost a chemical dependency to go frequently into the woods to hear the birds, to see the typical fauna of each season, to collect goodies, to photograph or just to lie down on the grass and empty your mind. We can learn so much when surrounded by nature,You can learn not only about Mother Nature but also about yourself. We are part of Her, we are not above Her. It is our duty to respect and to preserve the Earth. How essential is it, in your field of work, to have a strong, online presence? It’s important to be present online to share your work within a greater range of folks and to know other interesting projects in different fields. It’s nice to get people’s feedback. I tend to do things in my own rhythm. I really don’t what to massacre people with my stuff as in the same line I don’t create massively ornaments. I keep my online presence as quiet as myself. I have less mind space for Internet garbage or no patience at all… Internet is gold and poison at the same time. It’s used as a tool, not as a breathing mask. Balance is everything. Do you sometimes find you need to escape the world of technology? What do you do to break away from it? Life is much more than technology and I totally need to escape from it, although I have an addiction problem with photography. I always have a tendency to photograph everything. When possible I take a break with a little journey. There are such beautiful places everywhere to be discovered. I go to museums, antique & flea markets, cemetery and forest walks; music jam and drinks with friends, preparing a photo shoot or crafting. There is a world outside the box to be understood and worshipped!

Are you working on any exciting new projects at the moment? I work in different fields at the same time, it can be crafting for Black Insignia, or moving ahead with my xerox zine Ruína Urbana, or getting ready for another photographic session, or exorcising my demons through music. As far as Black Insignia is concerned I have been trying to get other techniques/ materials that will allow me to keep my idea of making things “perpetual” or at least more durable in time. But there is always something new coming up… Where would you like to be at with Black Insignia ten years down the line? “In ten years from now I would like to be…” it’s something I tend not to think about. The important is The Here and The Now. We have no control over anything, only in the present you can make a difference. If you don’t have expectations, if you don’t give fuel to illusion, so you can avoid suffering and frustration. Only with that thought can you find peace that allows you to make what makes you happy now. Anyway, I think that in ten years Black Insignia is going to be dead at least in the format it is now. It will be a good and positive experience/lesson I will have to remember. But definitely I would be grateful if I could grow as an artisan, keeping on creating handmade artefacts, drifting in my perpetual landscapes…

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HAS M A N Y FA C E S D e a t h i s a n e x p e r i e n c e w e w i l l a l l e n c o u n t e r, a n d t h i s i n e v i t a b i l i t y t e r r i f i e s m o s t o f u s . Ye t , t h e r e a r e t h o s e o f us who have a fascination with the var ying ways in which death can be por tr ayed through ar t. We m a y f e a r t h e d a y t h a t o u r b o n e s s t a r t t o r e v e a l themselves, but we are still intr igued by the mar ks ar tists l e av e . T h e a r t i s t s p r e s e n t e d h e r e t a k e d e a t h a p a r t , p i e c e by piece , and put it back together in multiple different f o r m s . We s e e d e a t h t h r o u g h a c h i l d â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s e ye s . We s e e d e a t h u n c ov e r e d . We s e e d e a t h a d o p t i n g a m o m e n t a r y g e n t l e n e s s .

KATY HORAN

KATY HORAN K a t y H o r a n ’s w o r k t r a n s p o r t s t h e v i e w e r. In my case , it tr anspor ts me back to my

B U RY

ear ly childhood. The image ‘Deathly’ br ings t o m i n d a fi l m w h i c h w a s c e n t r a l i n m y d e v e l o p m e n t - Wa t e r s h i p D o w n , a fi l m w h i c h i n t r o d u c e d m y yo u n g s e l f t o t h e c o l d reality of death.

THE DREADFUL WIND & RAIN

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KATY HORAN

A N D S H E W E P T S O M U C H T H AT H E R T E A R S F E L L U P O N I T & WAT E R E D I T

D E AT H LY

SPECTRE

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MEAGEN MELI

MEAGEN MELI T h e r e i s a d i v e r s i t y i n M e a g e n M e l i ’s wor k which I greatly admire . The images below all hum of death, from the dar k and p r i m i t i v e ‘ C u t o f Te e t h ’ t o t h e a s t o u n d i n g l y d e t a i l e d ‘ C y c l o c e p h a l u s .’ M e l i s h a p e s d e a t h and presents it to us as a smorgasbord of ideas and visions.

CUT OF TEETH

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MEAGEN MELI

SIRENOMELIA SPECIMENS

CYCLOCEPHALUS

S K E L E TA L H A N D

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M I C H A E L A K N I Z O VA

MICHAELA K N I Z O VA Michaela Knizova takes death and rests it gently in our hands. Her wor k has a profound impact on how I am feeling physically, and br ings about a deep thoughtfulness. Her wor k has a gentleness about it that can come with death, though â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;They Keep Calling Meâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is like a sinister re-awakening.

THEY KEEP C ALLING ME

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M I C H A E L A K N I Z O VA

S Y LV I A P L AT H L A S T WO R D S

N OV E M B E R R A I N

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Fur, Hide and Bone Zine / Erica Harada ‘My favourite skull. That is a lot like asking a parent to pick a favourite child!’

here is something really exciting about finding a diminutive envelope on the doormat, with a hand written address on the front, an Air Mail stamp and two letters stating its starting point - NY. With 99.9% of our ‘mail,’ so to speak, ‘dropping’ into our inboxes, instead of through the letter box, it can be so easy to lose touch with the importance of giving and receiving authentic mail, and I’m not talking bills or anything like that, I mean hand written letters, random scraps of drawings and smoothed out pieces of newspaper clippings. In this case, inside the tiny envelope was an even tinier zine. Fur, Hide and Bone is astonishingly beautiful, original and delicate. There’s a drawn/painted cover, hand written pieces all the way through, and intricate drawings of bones, animals both dead and alive and fragile pieces of the natural world. The 14 page zine was created by editor Erica Harada, so she could share her passion about ‘Natural History and the collecting of dead things,’ and encourage others to share their experiences too. Harris re-writes the submissions in her own hand writing, which gives the zine a wonderfully personal feel, almost as if you’re reading the notebook of a good friend. Harada leads the way to start, discussing how the American Museum of Natural History inspired her as a child.

One of the pieces Harada shares with us is her juvenile hyena skull. It’s really interesting reading that as she progressed with her research into hyenas, she began to feel closer to her skull. She also goes on to defend this unlikely hero, and explain how hyenas are not only the harbingers of death. Harada soon gives over to other writers and illustrators, such as fifteen year old Carolyn Smith, who is studying to become a wildlife and scientific illustrator, and who collects mainly out of awe. And Katie Innamorato who creates artwork using road kill or rejected skins. She says, ‘I am respecting the animal and giving new life.’ And I agree. I looked her up. I think my favourite piece in this gorgeous little zine, is by Lisa Pawley who talks about the most treasured item in her collection.

‘ I t s i t s i n a wo o d e n b ox w i t h s m a l l e r b o n e s f r o m t h e s a m e s p e c i e s, a n d w h e n I t a ke i t o u t t o a d m i r e i t , I a m r e m i n d e d o f my ow n m o r t a l i t y. T h i s i t e m i s a h u m a n t h o r a c i c ve r t e b r a e. M e m e n t o M o r i Re m e m b e r yo u w i l l d i e. T h i s we l l k n ow n Latin phrase comes to mind when I hold a h u m a n b o n e i n my h a n d s.’ I enjoyed savouring every page of this astonishing morsel, lingering over the fascinating fragments of other peoples’ lives and what they do with the results of little deaths in the natural world.

Author/ Erika Harada Ye a r O f P u b l i c a t i o n / 2 0 0 9 Publisher / Self-Published

‘My fascination with the exotic, unfamiliar landscapes and animals recreated faithfully in glass cases eventually led to me collecting and sketching bones and taxider my and obsessively researching the various animals I lear ned a b o u t a t t h e m u s e u m .’

I Am Just Going Outside: Captain Oates – Antarctic Tragedy ‘He may have swallowed his opium pills, blotting out the last tormented, lonely moments of his life. But that was not Oates’ style. He probably just waited.’

have a macabre fascination with Lawrence Oates, and I know that there are plenty more of us around the globe, men and women. Those of us who can’t help feeling over emotional when there is talk of how this dashing, thirty two year old, quiet and intelligent gentleman perished on what was supposed to be the greatest adventure of his life.

as an example of how to die nobly...Oates was the finest example of how, if nothing else, Britons knew how to die.’ Just by looking at this famous portrait of Oates you can see that he was someone different.

‘He was always something of an outsider, a man who disliked the strict conventions of the Victorian era into which he was born and yet struggled to Michael Smith gave up his career as a leading come to terms with the reforms of Edwardian business and political journalist to write about Britain. He was a contradiction, a person who polar exploration. It goes to show that once the epitomised the English country squire but was no poles have slipped underneath your spirit, they dandy. He rejected the social customs, ignored class stay there forever. distinctions and deliberately wore shabby clothes to ‘I Am Just Going Outside’ documents emphasise his abhorrence of social status. He was Oates’ life, and provides an utterly compelling, inform in an age of formality.’ memorable and heart wrenching read. It reveals the inner workings of Oates and how he died without knowing he was a father.

The preface to the book is considerate and honest. It had me trembling slightly, eager to get the rest of it underway and build on what I already knew about Oates and one of the most famous tragedies in polar exploration. Smith points out, very early on, that Oates’s death left an enormous impression on the national consciousness.

‘Oates was at centre stage of the Scott disaster and the expedition’s most unfortunate victim. It was a tragedy which left such an impression on the national psyche that 100,000 British soldiers, who themselves were staring death in the face from the trenches of the First World War, were shown pictures of Oates and his comrades

But she loved her ‘baby boy’ and lavished her attention on him constantly. The chapter goes on to explore how Oates came before his three siblings in his mothers eyes. It also talks about when Oates discovered his passion for horses and how he was as a youngster, frequently ill, which resulted in him taking trips to South Africa for months at a time, to make the most of the warm weather. Another interesting point to note is that Oates was dyslexic - a disability hardly recognised in the late Victorian era - and this plagued him throughout childhood and his adult life.

illness only a few years earlier had developed into a robust young man.’ Smith goes onto examines the beginning of Oates’ career as a Second-Lieutenant, but it was really interesting to read how Oates was a man of strong views, and despite his background, believed in equality.

It was fortunate that Oates did eventually overcome the health problems that had plagued him as a child.

Smith spends a some time focuses on Oates’ decision to apply to join Captain Scott’s British Antarctic Exploration. Oates stood out, and was chosen by Scott over 8,000 other applicants. It wasn’t only the fact that he could make a significant financial contribution, but his cv was impressive and the fact that he had a wealth of knowledge about dogs and horses also helped to seal the deal. Though, as we all know, horses are not suited to travel across ice. Scott’s horses were supposed to carry tons of equipment and provisions across the Antarctic landscape, but could hardly walk without the pressure of their hooves sinking through the unstable terrain.

‘The active, outdoor life suited Oates and seemed to have had a beneficial effect on his health. By now he had grown into a fine strapping character, who stood almost 5ft 11ins weighed a shade over twelve stone and boasted an ample chest measurement of 381/2 inches The pallid, sickly boy who had been forced to leave Eton because of

‘Antarctica is not designed for humans. Yet the continent has always held a special place in the imagination...The continent is also the world’s most inhospitable place. Over 99 per cent of the land is permanently covered in ice and wind speeds have been known to reach nearly 200mph. Antarctica has also produced the lowest temperature ever recorded on earth...’

‘A well- known modern writer glanced at some of Oates’ letters in the 1980’s and correctly observed that Oates wrote ‘so ungrammatically and spelt so abominably as to be half literate,’ which was accurate.’

Smith delves into the history of the Oates family, and it’s all delicious fodder for my insatiable curiosity into the background and life of Oates.

‘Lawrence Oates sprang from deeply rooted English stock. The Oates family can proudly claim to be among the oldest in the country and, thanks to an ancient preoccupation with its own lineage, can trace the line back with considerable accuracy for almost 1,000 years.’ Oates only ever really had one woman in his life - his mother.

‘She was a stern, severe-looking woman who was entirely comfortable with the strict disciplines and rigid social conventions of the age, a natural Victorian.

Smith describes how, even before the party had reached Antarctica, the ponies were having trouble on board the ship. If Scott had any sense at all, he would have realised, while observing the horses finding it difficult to stand up, that there was absolutely no way the horses would be able to withstand the unstable Antarctic terrain. And it wasn’t only the horses that suffered.

‘The dogs, chained up in the middle of the ship, were drenched and forlorn and their long pathetic wines could be heard over the roaring winds. In one miraculous moment, the force of the sea snapped the chain holding one of the dogs and swept him overboard. Seconds later another wave washed the hapless animal back on board.’ He also goes on to examine the deteriorating relationship between Scott and Oates.

‘On the surface, Oates was perfectly suited to the role of cavalry officer in the late Victorian age. He was rich, indulged and knew nothing different from the social codes which had served the landed gentry for so long, But he was different. Despite his upbringing, he disliked the rigid class system and possessed an untypical streak of egalitarianism. He did his best to treat all people fairly and equally and regarded professional duty as more important than petty rules and protocol.’

‘The unseen continent was known as Terra Australis Incognita – The Unknown Southern Land. As the Northern Hemisphere lay under the easily recognisable stellar constellation of Arktos (the Bear), the mysterious land to the south became known as the opposite to the Bear – Antartikos.’

‘...was the greatest of all Polar explorers and his challenge to Scott was a stunning threat... Amundsen was the consummate single-minded and ruthlessly ambitious professional. From the moment that Amundsen challenged Scott in the race for the South Pole, there would be only one victor.’

The author talks briefly about the Norwegian polar explorers of the late Victorian era, and how they had embraced many Inuit practises. There’s also an emphasis on the suitability of dogs for polar travel. He also talks interestingly of Roald Amundsen.

‘It was an inspirational choice which positioned Amundsen 60 miles nearer the Pole than Scott – a valuable 120 – mile saving on the round trip. Amundsen was in the lead even before the race had begun.’

‘The problem lay in the personalities, with Scott a complex person who found it difficult to confide in others and Oates a straightforward man of few words who was curt and sardonic. The most common trait shared was introversion. The two introverts found it increasingly difficult to communicate and the more strained the relationship became, the harder they found it to reach the same wavelength.’ I really enjoyed learning one new thing after another after another about Oates, even if sometimes they weren’t the nicest of things. I was pleased that my reserves of knowledge were steadily growing with each new chapter. Smith spends some time looking into and revealing Oates’ relationship with foreigners. In a letter home to his Mother he stated I can’t stand this Norwegian chap, referring to Tryggve Gran, the one Norwegian in Scott’s party. It was nothing personal, however. His upbringing taught him to maintain a ‘superior English attitude towards other cultures.’ Before the party set out for the Pole, Oates fell into a dark depression, and had doubts about remaining in Antarctica, and wrote his mother that he intended on getting a ship home as soon as he could. Near to the close of the book, we are allowed an insight into the final letters Oates wrote before setting off with the final party to march for the Pole. In the letter he requests ‘1/2 doz books so that he would be able to start working

on his major’s exam on the way home.’ It makes the heart crack. He was a young man who had no intention of dying in the white darkness. And he would be going home. As we know, Amundsen made it to the Pole before Scott’s party. The image of the five men standing before their withered English flag brings a lump to even the hardiest person’s throat. In the image Oates looks absolutely done in. A horribly ironic fact, revealed in Chapter 22 – God Help Us...is that Amundsen had gained weight during his journey to and from the South Pole. In complete contrast, hunger gnawed away at Scott’s party and they grew more gaunt with every day that passed. I ought to mention the fact that only four men were supposed to go to the Pole, but Scott changed his mind right before they started and decided on taking five. The food and other supplies had been rationed for four men, not five, and foolish decision impinged on everything the men did. It is in Chapter 23 – The Ultimate Sacrifice, that we learn more about Oates’ condition on the way back from the Pole. He had had wet feet for over four months and gangrene had developed.

‘Gangrene, which is literally death of the tissue, takes two different forms. Oates was probably suffering largely from the dry form, which is acutely painful and caused be severe frostbite destroying the blood vessels. The pain was akin to red-hot pokers inserted into his feet and somewhere in his lower legs a red demarcation line would be clearly visible, distinguishing between the living and dead tissue.’

Oates made ‘the ultimate sacrifice’ on the 16th or 17th of March 1912. There has been much speculation about Oates’ final words to his team. It has been suggested that Scott, wanting to leave behind a legend made them up, but others have suggested that.

‘Oates’ suffering at the point of leaving the tent must have been extreme and helps explain why, as he contemplated taking his own life, he did not leave a final letter to his mother. It is likely that his frostbite was so severe that he could not hold a pencil...He did not bother to pull on his ripped boots and went slowly to his death wearing only his socks. Outside the tent a blizzard was raging and the temperature had dropped to a paralyzing -40F.’

‘The pithy, off-hand comment attributed to Oates is hardly the language of Scott, a gifted writer but a conventional character. It is difficult to see the orthodox Scott delivering such an unorthodox parting shot. However the expression is pure Oates.’ I have often wondered if Oates’ body will ever be recovered. I don’t think I would want it to be, if I’m being honest. As odd as it sounds, I’m really not sure how I would react. Despite my hope that he will remain in Antarctica’s cold embrace, I have a morbid fascination with how he would have spent his last moments.

‘I Am Just Going Outside’ is an extraordinary

book. It examines Oates’ life is such fantastic detail that the reader automatically feels closer to the gallant gentleman. I’m someone who can spend ages pouring over old photographs of strangers, so the images in here, of Oates as a baby, up to days before his death are utterly captivating. It’s often a difficult read, due to the subject matter, but it’s well-researched, gripping and unforgettable.

‘In vicious temperatures and unimaginable wind chill levels, his body would have soon become numb. It would have bought welcome relief if he had opened his clothing, accelerating the freezing process. He may have swallowed his opium pills, blotting out the last tormented, lonely moments of his life. But that was not Oates’ style. He probably just waited.’ Then final chapter in the book A Second Tragedy revealed that when Oates died he was, in fact, a father. However, the mother of his child had hardly been a child herself when they slept together. This fact may well shock people enough to change their views entirely on Oates, Author/ Michael Smith but we are not aware of the circumstances behind this affair. We don’t know if Oates was aware of her Ye a r O f P u b l i c a t i o n / 2 0 0 6 age, and we probably never will. Publisher / Spellmount Limited

FROZEN IN TIME: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition ‘There is something unner ving about people who can’t be located dead or alive. They upset our sense of space – surely the missing ones have to be somewhere, but where?’ – Margaret Atwood.

henever I visit the library, I make a beeline for the travel section, and crouch down to inspect the lowest shelf, where I can be sure to find a handful books about polar exploration. Fortunately, there must be another soul in the district who is just as fascinated by the poles - and the people who traverse them - as I am, as there is regularly a ‘new’ book or two gracing the shelf. In this case, it was ‘Frozen In Time,’ a book about the fated Franklin Expedition. I snapped it up. The cover, for a start, was one of the most poignant I’ve ever seen. In terms of impact, this was like a punch in the face. John Torrington is the man on the cover of this particular edition.Torrington died on the 1st of January 1846. Margaret Atwood wrote an absorbing, yet suitably unsettling introduction to the book. ‘In the fall of 1984, a mesmerizing photograph grabbed attention in newspapers around the world. It showed a young man who looked neither fully dead nor entirely alive. He was dressed in archaic clothing and was surrounded by a casing of ice. The whites of his half-open eyes were tea coloured. His forehead was dark blue.’ ‘...Here is someone who had defied the general ashesto-ashes, dust-to-dust rule, and who has remained recognisable as an individual human being long after most have turned to bone and earth.’ ‘The man in the sensational photograph was John Torrington, one of the first three to die during the doomed Franklin expedition of 1845.The stated goal of the expedition was to discover the Northwest Passage to the Orient and claim it for Britain.’

In 1981, an archaeological team from the University of Alberta scoured the south coast of King William Island ‘one of the most desolate places in the world’ searching for human remains. They wanted to discover clues that could hopefully lead them

to an understanding of the last days of the Franklin Expedition’s 129 men, as it was here, in 1848, where the expedition came to a cold, miserable end. On the second day of their search, they found bones. ‘Most of the remains were found exposed on the surface...The texture of the bones illustrated the severity of the northern climate. Exposed portions were bleached white and powdery flakes of the outer bone surface cracked and fell off if handled too roughly. Sharing the exposed surfaces were small and brightly coloured colonies of mosses and lichens, anchored firmly on the sterile white of the bone as if braced for another harsh winter.’ The bones showed evidence of debilitating scurvy, a disease which effected European expansion and exploration expeditions starting from the 16th Century. Symptoms included ‘ulcers, rictus of the limbs, spontaneous haemorrhages in almost all parts of the body – and a bloom of gum tissue that enveloped what teeth had not already fallen out, producing a terrible odour.’ It was only in 1917 when the root cause of scurvy was discovered. The finding of bones incited three further expeditions over the following five years. Each investigation uncovered new leads, and the eventual exhumation of three of Franklin’s men; John Torrington, John Hartnell and William Braine, which is where the emotions start to stir more frantically. ‘On 12th of August 1984, having erected a tent shell over the grave to protect it from the elements, the University of Alberta researchers began to dig through the ground of Torrington’s grave...Soon after the uppermost levels of the permafrost had been chipped, broken and shovelled away, a strange smell was detected in the otherwise crisp, clean air.’ I most certainly started to toy with the idea of my own mortality, and what will happen to my body

when I go. I can’t even begin to imagine how researchers really must have felt on uncovering these preserved young men. (I say young, and they were, early twenties to mid-thirties.) ‘The first part of Torrington to come into view was the front of his shirt, complete with mother-of-pearl buttons. Soon, his perfectly preserved toes gradually pocked through the receding ice...But for artists’ portraits and a few primitive photographs, who living today has ever seen the face of a person from the earlier part of the Victorian era, a person who took part in one of history’s major expeditions of discovery?’ Following the painstaking excavations of the three men, samples of tissue, hair and bone were analyzed, to validate or defeat Owen Beattie’s theory about the catastrophic impact that lead poisoning had on Franklin Expedition. Preservation of food through canning was still a fairly new innovation, and it transpired that some of tins uncovered by researchers, were flawed. ‘...lead played an important role in the declining health of the entire crews of the Erebus and Terror – not only in their loss of physical energy but increasingly in their minds’ despair. Loss of appetite, fatigue, weakness and colic are some of the physical symptoms of lead poisoning. It can also cause disturbances of the central and peripheral nervous system, producing neurotic and erratic behaviour and paralysis of the limbs.’ Torrington, Hartnell and Braine were all victims of tuberculosis and pneumonia. But it was the lead entering their bodies, during the early stages of the expedition, which weakened them enough that they were susceptible to the illnesses which eventually killed them off. As to the question why did the Franklin expedition fail so spectacularly – there is no single answer. What this astonishingly well researched book does is bring together the multiple threads, and provides as good an explanation as I expect we’re ever going to have.

Author/ Owen Beattie & John Geiger Ye a r O f P u b l i c a t i o n / R e v i s e d E d i t i o n 2 0 0 9 Publisher / Bloomsbur y

The Enchanted World: Night Creatures ‘ Mo s t p e o p l e c h o s e t o s l e e p w h e n d ay l i g h t f a d e d . ’

seem to recall owning a mass of these TimeLife books as a child, but where they’ve disappeared to is sadly another story.The book I am writing about here was a gift a couple of years back, and came from one of the finest bookshops in the land - Bookcase in Carlisle, a place you could easily wander for a week. Anyway, Night Creatures is, like it’s twenty siblings; absolutely stunning, with the highest quality illustrations, durable paper and strong, hardback covers. Chapter One – Perilous Paths Through The Dark features an edited version of Beowulf, followed by a more general discussion of creatures of the dark from around the globe. The writing is elaborate but not to the point of excess. It’s beautifully dark and alluring, drawing you in so you hold the book tighter, closer to yourself and get lost for a few hours or so. ‘These beings were vestiges of chaos, remnants of a formless time older than human reckoning.’ Doesn’t that sentence taste so devilishly delicious on your tongue? The (multiple) editors of this book have crafted each sentence with precision, creativity and a strong, heady dash of darkness. What I absolutely love about this book is the fact that every page or so, I’m introduced to something new, or my knowledge about some dark force is enhanced. ‘In Greece, the night goddess – first child of Chaos – was called Nyx. Darkly fecund, she gave birth to a host of terrors. Doom and disease, pain and strife, sorrow and age were her children, and she was the mother of those same-seeming twins, death and sleep.’ When the talk comes to that of how the night has influenced the human race over the centuries, I find myself making myself that bit more comfortable in my seat and allowing a grin to snake its way across my face.

‘By day, the world presented an orderly picture: in the shadow of bristling castle towers, linen smocked farmers, attended by flocks of greedy cows, ploughed and sowed and harvested; white-wimpled goodwives tended their hearth plots; blacksmiths worked their forges; children played in the fields. But that cheerful order began to dissolve each afternoon when the shadows lengthened. In the twilight, all made for shelter.The crows gave their last, harsh calls and took wing for their woods. Lowing cattle , their bells clanking dully, were driven into their byres. Grandmothers herded flocks of geese to the haven of pens. Then the curfew sounded, tolled by a bell or called by a horn, and lords and ladies retreated to their fortresses and dropped the gates...the darkness that blanketed the turning world in those days is hard to envision now.’ Within chapter one, there is also talk of those who choose to stay out when the moon is heavy, and I’m reminded once more of exactly why I love these books and admire the researchers behind the contents. ‘If he was wise, his walking staff was made of rowan – mountain ash. The rowan was the Northmen’s ancient World Tree, the source of life and guardian of humankind. Travellers also clung to certain objects that recalled the light of day, hoping that these might cast day’s grace on them and shield them from the dark. Among such charms was the field-grown daisy – the cherished “day’s eye” of the British, which opened its petals to the sun each morning and closed them again at nightfall.’ It’s always exciting to come across a creature in British folklore who I haven’t already encountered. On this occasion it was Black Annis. ‘Said to be a descendant of an ancient, bloodthirsty goddess, Black Annis was one-eyed, livid-faced and

‘

e r r i fi e d s h e w h i r l e d t o r u n , b u t t h e w o l f wa s q u i c k , a n d

I particularly enjoyed reading the considerably more sombre version of Little Red Riding Hood.

his teeth met in the red cloak in an instant. Then he

‘when hollow-bellied wolves prowled near human paths.’

fe a s t e d s l ow l y a n d p l e a s u ra b l y o n t h e ro s y f l e s h a n d sw e e t young blood of Red Riding Hood. What he could not eat he

long clawed. She haunted the Dane Hilld and, at twilight, crouched in an oak tree. This tree, the last vestige of a forest that had covered the land before history began, evidently gave her special shelter. She waited patiently for passerby, but her special victims were children. These she flayed alive with her curving claws, but the pathetic little skins she took to a cave in the hills...’

into an unwatchfulness as vulnerable as a child’s. The sleeper’s stillness seemed a little death, and indeed, people named sleep death’s brother.’

Chapter Two – Visitations From The Realm Of Shadow is another chapter laden with dark tales from all sorts of places, of creatures, spirits and demons I’ve never heard of. I particularly like the tale of the Nocnitsa - or night hag - of Polish folklore, who was said to torment children whose mothers had failed to bless them at bedtime. She would tickle their bellies and feet and suck blood from their veins, all for the pleasure of hearing the babes cry.

Chapter Three – Blood Feasts Of The Damned naturally contains some generously gory vampire tales, but there are others who steal through the shadows too, such as The Child-Eater Of The Black Forest, otherwise known as the witch, or flesh eating ghoul from the tale of Hansel and Gretel. There’s a particularly interesting section which lingers on the subject of blood magic.

The night hag would disappear if a parent entered the room, but would leave behind a mark – as they were a bringer of fever and disease. Chapter two also explores the realms of sleep, and talks about how it was ‘an intimidating mystery.’ ‘Every man and woman who looked upon a sleeping companion knew the fleeting loneliness of seeing the beloved and familiar face become remote and expressionless, locked away in the solitude that is the human lot. Everyone knew the pang of tenderness at seeing the sleeper, alert by day, sink

‘

c a r r i e d a wa y i n c h u n k s a n d b u r i e d fo r a l a t e r m e a l .

‘Terrified she whirled to run, but the wolf was quick, and his teeth met in the red cloak in an instant. Then he feasted slowly and pleasurably on the rosy flesh and sweet young blood of Red Riding Hood. What he could not eat he carried away in chunks and buried for a later meal.’ Night Creatures was first published in 1985 a year before I was born, and I can tell you that it could have been penned yesterday. The tales and illustrations within this wonderfully eerie and insightful publication are timeless, and will continue to hold a place in time no matter how many lights are ignited in an attempt to brighten the night sky. Author / Daniel Stashhower Ye a r O f P u b l i c a t i o n / 1 9 8 5 Publisher / Time-Life Books

There is also talk of staying safe whilst asleep. ‘Some never slept with their heads to the nor th, where lay the land of death and darkness. Some placed their shoes by their beds with the pointed toes facing outwards...’

‘Humankind from earliest times, revered blood’s magic vivifying power and cherished it as the most precious of substances, the river of the life force. The highest sacrifice that could be made was that of the blood of living creatures...Among the Norse, even sailing vessels were consecrated with blood: The Vikings ran their longships over the bodies of prisoners before sailing, so that the keels might be reddened to honour the sea gods.’ The fourth and final chapter The Way Of The Werebeast is a succulent, fulfilling chapter, where I learnt that ‘a werewolf ’s howl was more mournful that that of a wild wolf because it was a lamentation.’

DA R K M ATDA T ERRK M AT T E R RAT K M AT DA RDA K M TE RT E R ‘ U p h e re a m a n b e c o m e s aw a re o f t h i n g s t h a t h e c a n ’t p e rc e i ve f u r t h e r s o u t h .’

t’s like Paver stepped into my head, gathered up all my desires for a story and stitched them together to create Dark Matter. It’s a ghost story set in the Arctic. For me, ‘ghost’ and ‘Arctic’ are the two magic words, enough to make my knees go weak and for my head to feel like it’s filled with dynamite.

Dark Matter is set in 1937 and the story revolves around our protagonist Jack Miller, a sad and lonely twenty something year old who wants to dramatically change his life. So, when he’s offered an opportunity to join an Arctic expedition, he leaps at the chance. Jack finds himself on a ship to Spitsbergen (Also known as Svalbard) and to a remote, uninhabited bay called Gruhuken, where he and his upper class companions are to spend the year. When they reach the bay, circumstances mean that one by one, the other men abandon him and the project, until he is left alone with eight huskies and a rapidly arriving polar winter, when the sea will ice up and the sun will disappear. But there is someone else at the bay, someone who walks in the dark. The story is narrated in first person through Jack’s diary. Paver’s descriptions of the Arctic landscape are impeccable. Her ability to build atmosphere to the point where you are scrunching up your toes, and dipping further under the bedcovers is absolutely exceptional. This novel terrified me. The fact I suffer from mental health problems meant this touched me in a way not everyone can experience. I felt Jack’s loneliness. I felt his fear. I felt his growing desperation for human contact. Fortunately, Jack befriends one of the huskies, and there are some really tender moments which worked to strengthen my love for these amazing animals. There are multiple times where Jack has these poignant moments of realisation. For example, as he’s standing next to a bear post which used to be used by hunters. And yet, I think I now understand the impulse which drives men to shoot bears. It isn’t for the pelt or the meat or the sport – or not only these things. I think they need to do it.They need to kill that great Arctic totem to give them some sense of control over the wilderness – even if that is only an illusion.

There’s another moment when Jack and one of his fellow expedition member’s are watching the Northern Lights. With his heel, he hacked at the snow. “I read somewhere that the Eskimos believe they’re the torches of the dead, lighting the way for the living.” He hesitated. “They say if you whistle, the souls of the dead will draw nearer.” There’s also a gorgeous moment when Jack is talking about the dogs. My God, what would I do without them? They’re the liveliest, most affectionate creatures. I love the sound of their paws pattering over the snow as they hurtle off to investigate things, then hurtle back to tell me about it. Midway through the story, Jack gets unexpected company from a Norwegian hunter, who is wintering a few days walk away from Gruhuken. I really enjoyed their exchanges and the smattering of Norwegian words, and at moments the pronunciation made me smile fondly. “Nej, nej, Mister Yack, this is not pack ice! That comes in Januar, and you will know it, you will see the islyning, the ice blink, when it throw the light in the sky. This is just drift ice from the storm. Very danger, you stay off it Mister Yack. But don’t worry, soon the wind change and the ice is clear.” I’m going to end with this extract. It chilled me to the bone. I love it. Jack’s Norwegian guest has left, and Jack is alone with the dogs again. The moon has waned. It’s just a slit in the sky.The dark is back. Once, I thought fear of the dark was the oldest fear of all. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s not the dark the people fear, but what comes in the dark.What exists in it.

Author / Michelle Paver Ye a r O f P u b l i c a t i o n / 2 0 1 1 Publisher / Orion

EXPLORED Creative wr iting enables us to explore death from ever y conceivable angle. Wyrd Wo r d s & E f f i g i e s p u t s u p n o b o u n d a r i e s and allows the wr iter s you will find here to explore their subject in whatever way they see fit.

K AT I E M E T C A L F E

DEEP TRAUMA

o f d i f f i c u l t c o n v e r s a t i o n , I t o l d yo u it was time to drop the depression, time to sweat through the withdr awal.

Yo u r b o d y h a s s u f f e r e d d e e p t r a u m a a n d t h e y ’r e n o t s u r e yo u ’r e g o i n g

Yo u ’d t o l d m e yo u w e r e n ’ t r e a d y,

t o w a k e u p f r o m t h i s c l o t o f s l e e p.

that it wasn’t time.

I h o l d yo u r l i t t l e fi n g e r, t h e w a y I d i d

I r o l l e d m y e ye s , t u r n e d a w a y

w h e n w e w e r e k i d s a n d yo u w o u l d s a y,

w h i l e yo u f e l l b a c k w a r d s a g a i n

‘hold my hand’ so the wolves don’t get us.

into the battlefield.

I ’d c o n v i n c e d yo u t h e r e w e r e w o l v e s

We ’ v e a l l a g r e e d i n t h e t u r n i n g o f f

o n t h e m o o r s , h i d d e n i n t h e h e a t h e r, w a i t i n g .

o f yo u r l i f e s u p p o r t m a c h i n e .

I w a n t t h e m t o fi n d t h e h o s p i t a l , p a d a l o n g

Q u i e t l y, yo u s l i p ov e r, yo u r f e a t u r e s

t h e fi e r y w h i t e c o r r i d o r s , d o c t o r s t h i n k i n g

more fr agile than I’ve ever seen

t h e y ’r e a b e a u t i f u l h o a x . I w a n t t h e m

and tranquil.

t o c o m e h e r e , t o yo u r r o o m . In my fit of mid after noon dreams, My hear t has developed new r idges

yo u ’r e o n t h e m o o r d a n c i n g b a r e f o o t ,

a n d c a n yo n s ov e r yo u . I c a n ’ t r e m e m b e r

a n d t h e r e a r e w o l v e s w i t h yo u

the last time it felt smooth.

Before the cr ash, before I saw yo u d e s t r oye d b y f o g a n d a h o t b u r s t

K AT I E M E T C A L F E

GREETING THE CROSSFIRE

We d o n ’ t g o o n t h e i n t e r n e t n o w. Yo u ’ v e d e l e t e d F a c e b o o k a n d a l l y o u r other social media accounts. ‘I don’t want to be there after I’m not’ y o u s a y, g a t h e r i n g j p e g s o f p h o t o s t o g o

The day you told me it was ter minal, t h e f i r s t s n o w w a s g a t h e r i n g i n t h e s k y. I t o l d y o u I l o v e d yo u . T h a t w a s a l l

on a harddr ive you won’t plug in again. I offer to go to Boots, pr int some off,

I c o u l d m a n a g e , m y b r a i n w e t p a p e r h e av y.

b u y a n e w a l b u m . Yo u a g r e e .

Yo u s i p y o u r t e a m o r e s l o w l y t h a n b e f o r e ,

‘ I c a n t a k e i t w i t h m e ,’ y o u s a y,

closing your eyes before swallowing. T h i s i s a g o o d c u p. I k n o w b e c a u s e

before your voice fades into an a n t i c l i m a c t i c w h i s p e r. I c a n j u s t

b e h i n d y o u r s c a r f yo u ’r e c r y i n g .

hear that faint fizz of your pulse .

In a small voice , you talk about when

I retur n, we spend hour s leafing through

y o u w o u l d g e t b o o k s f r o m t h e l i b r a r y, and star t with the one that was least promising.

pages of photos we commented on the other week.

Yo u s a y y o u w i s h y o u h a d n ’ t d o n e t h a t .

Yo u s a y y o u d o n ’ t w a n t t o d i e .

I t r y a n d av o i d l o o k i n g a t t h e l i b r a r y r e t u r n s

of my skin, sink into my bones.

s h e l f w h e n I p a s s i t i n t h e h a l l . I t ’s p a c k e d with Canada guides, 24 tips for better sex,

Yo u r w o r d s c u t t h r o u g h t h e b o r d e r

All I can think about for weeks is how

r e c i p e b o o k s f o r a C h r i s t m a s yo u w o n ’ t s e e .

dar kness will deepen as soil wraps itself

Yo u a s k i f t h i s i s G o d ’s i d e a o f b l o o d s p o r t ,

and our bulging photo album.

a n d i f t h e t u m o u r s k i l l i n g yo u a r e h i s h o u n d s . Yo u s a y y o u f e e l f r u s t r a t i o n i n yo u r r i b s . Yo u w a n t t o c r a c k t h e m o p e n , p u l l t h e m o u t . I t h i n k y o u w o u l d i f yo u h a d t h e s t r e n g t h .

around you, your one designer dress

When you become too weak to talk, I h o l d y o u r h a n d s . Yo u ’r e a b o u t t o g r e e t the crossfire . There will be howling w h e n y o u ’r e g o n e .

I want to bur y you at night so I can p r e t e n d i t ’s n o t r e a l l y h a p p e n i n g . But you want it fir st thing in the mor ning. Yo u ’ v e n e v e r r e a l l y l i k e d t h e d a r k .

K a t i e M e t c a l f e i s a n w r i t e r, p o e t , b l o g g e r a n d m a g a z i n e e d i t o r. F i n d o u t m o r e h e r e : w w w. k a t i e m a r i e m e t c a l f e . w e e b l y. c o m

A N DY W I L L O U G H B Y

THE DOOR

MAN MAKING

Is leopard skin coated There is the buzz of tropical flies behind it And the promise of coconut milk

To r e p l a c e t h e p e o p l e d e v o u r e d b y b e a r

All the fires you’ve ever known

I g a v e h i m w i n g s b e f o r e Te e t h o r h a i r

Is green marble I t ’s c o o l a n d s m o o t h w i t h h e f t y r e s i s t a n c e I n t h e r e t h e r e ’s s o m e d i g g i n g g o i n g o n The scr ape of spade and shovel For man bones and old stones E v e r y o n e ’s d a d s b e e n h e r e Is yellow papyr us T h e r e ’s r a i n a n d s n a k e s i n t h e r e And all the times in there you Called an adult by the wrong name Then shrank to a dot When you were ver y small Is Yves Klein Blue Holds the promise that one

And a reptilian snout that said beware To t h e e v i l t h i n g s t h a t d w e l l o u t t h e r e I kneaded his limbs with fear and love I wished him strength to r ise above The assaults of memor y and disease, The call of unknown pleasures to er ase The feeling of ever being bor n of man at all And unlike me , I made him rather tall. Looking now upon his monstrous for m Laid out flat waiting to be born I recognise the red mis-shapen clay As myself upon the desper ate day

Day you would lear n to dr ive

When I will long for the power to soar

Which you have now abandoned

A b o v e d e a t h ’s r e a l m o f f r o s t a n d h o a r,

Because you can’t get the notion of Hidden snakes shook out Of your thinning locks.

So I moulded his being without delay

From dancing Brazilian maidens Are burning in there

Coyote bid me make a man from clay

Stop the rot and shr ivelling from within Lest the shr iving of my soul begin.

A N DY W I L L O U G H B Y

DIAGNOSTIC

Of sudden Sakura. All the time tr ying Hard not to ponder

M a n i t ’s l i k e t h i s ,

If the so called benign

when ever y par ticle of time

Suspicious throat lump

May be the last -

Isn’t really spr inkling

How much is precious?

metatastic par ticles

how much is hor ror?

Throughout my body

REM on the Stockholm bar boat;

That will eat all of the time

M i c h a e l ’s l o s i n g h i s r e l i g i o n a g a i n

We s h o u l d h av e c o m i n g

A s I l o s e m y s o b r i e t y,

Before they can cut it out.

mess up the anti-biotics

And what you do in this situation bud

With beer and jaga for 89 krona

is see her face in the fine moment

And project into the future

Yo u m i g h t o r m i g h t n o t h av e ,

A springtime jaunt

And live towards it regardless.

Here with my wife , so I t ’s n o t j u s t a p o r t e n t o u s place I pass through, En route to perfor mance , With winter dar k water s But a site for spr inkling Fistfuls of pink blossom Into the harbour full of good vodka, And the aching wonder

A n d y W i l l o u g h b y i s a p o e t a n d p l a y w r i g h t f r o m Te e s s i d e where he r uns Ek Zuban Independent Press and Literature Development with Bob Beagr ie wor king in education and the community especially with hard to reach groups. He is also co-director of the Electric Kool-Aid Cabaret and S e n i o r L e c t u r e r i n C r e a t i v e W r i t i n g a t Te e s s i d e U n i v e r s i t y. H i s c o l l e c t i o n s i n c l u d e “ To u g h ” ( S m o k e s t a c k B o o k s a n d “ T h e W r o n g C a l i f o r n i a .” ( M u d f o g P r e s s ) .

TA B I T H A M C K I N N E Y

TOMB & WOMB The funeral was as still as Death No life in the four-walled room Bodies walked one by one, for one last look Two holes in her plum-sized heart She would take no memories to her inauspicious grave

After the sepulture, family and friends gathered The mood conceivably somber-As the departed had only arrived five weeks before this day Just a baby whose pocket-sized feet had not the time to touch the Earth

Her mother slept for days after the house cleared The only movement spectral Drawn curtains diffused agonizing Light

Her brother woke to the Ghost of his sleeping sister Resting on the pillow beside his shadowed head

Her father worked tirelessly, his hands kept busy to ease his wounded Heart Tabitha McKinney is a wr iter, poet, and occultist studying Jungian psychother apy in Santa Barbar a, C A. Her wr iting ser ves as a conduit to unseen wor lds, tr aver sed mythically and imaginally. Having migr ated West some year s ago, her Amer ican Souther n roots continue to haunt and to colour her poetic lens.

JEM HENDERSON

of our wedding day the reception line of 200 stranger s

THE DRAUGHT Finger s now claws clasp the spoon to stir the mixture: bone white solution procured from some seedy par t of the internet

when all we wanted was each other the long nights where he was out wor king and I was feeding our son from my breast a hole at the centre of me shadows moving from wall to wall as the sun slowly rose

after much research and discussion on our par t he is my sun, my moon, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve sent a letter to our son, to make it clear this is our decision in case the police decide to investigate h a n d w r i t t e n , o n t h e fi n e s t , t h i c k e s t p a p e r a final note telling him how much we love him so many year s together

my star s, the catch in my throat the beat of my hear t I hold the glass to his lips shaking as he sips I force him to take more the whole concoction down with a shudder and a cough

each day filled with: not him and I

he makes a sound

but us together

somewhere between a yelp and a sigh

I cannot imagine life without him

a spasm r uns down his ar m

he lays on the bed pale against the br ight or ange and black quilt eyes sunken, wr inkled skin dr awn tight h e s e e s m e g l a n c e ov e r smiles

his hand flails, rests he is gone I lay down beside him look at the ceiling of my home w h e r e w e h av e l i v e d f o r 4 0 y e a r s s e e t h e s p i d e r â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s w e b I had been meaning to get off the pink lampshade

that smile has seen my ever ything

f r o m t h e u t m o s t j oy

drink the bone white fluid,

yet fr ustr ation

let the glass fall from my -

JEM HENDERSON

THIS IS HOW I LIVE SINCE Y O U H AV E D I E D I stay up all night I write The har sh light of morning signals time to sleep cr umpled, mucky bed sheets T h i s i s h o w I l i v e s i n c e yo u h av e d i e d a bundle of ner ves exposed to the air hiding the wine finding in the wine a communion of sor ts a t o a s t t o t h e m e m o r y o f yo u the for getting of you T h i s i s h o w I d i e s i n c e yo u h av e l i v e d each day as grey as the hair on my head a s t h e c o l o u r o f t h e s k y o n t h e d a y yo u l e f t a s t h e c o l o u r o f y o u r s k i n a f t e r yo u h a d g o n e e a c h n i g h t a b l u r o f c o l o u r w i t h m y m e m o r y o f yo u T h i s i s h o w I l i v e s i n c e yo u h av e d i e d T h e p a s t r e n d e r e d e x c i t i n g b y yo u r n o w s t a r k a b s e n c e T h i s i s h o w I l i v e s i n c e yo u h av e d i e d To o h o t t e a b u r n s m y t o p l i p the ashtr ay overflows with the nightsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; insomnia Yo u r p r a y e r s w i l l n e v e r b e a n s w e r e d a g a i n T h i s i s h o w I d i e d n o w yo u h av e l i v e d

Jem Henderson has an MA in Creative Writing from York St. John University, UK. She is the editor of Indigo Rising UK and she has previously been published in Beautiful Scruffiness, Down in the Dirt, The English Chicago Review, The Night Light and other publications online. jemface.wordpress.com

OZ HARDWICK

THE MOTHERS

STATUS UPDATE

It was the last stor y: dust to dust from days on end, bottled sound in boiling rooms, we gazed from many windows, s t r a n g e r s w i t h t h e s a m e f a t h e r. Still dar k outside, small sighs

I’m being followed by a dead gir l. When she asked to be Facebook friends, she didn’t say she was dead, it wasn’t in her ‘likes’ or on her timeline . Her profile looked – looks – alive .

lost within the big sigh, handicapped b y a d e s p e r a t e f e a r, I t u r n e d to see if I might chance on answer s. Ashes to ashes: she stepped outside.

She never posts updates, but each year I’m reminded o f h e r b i r t h d a y, a l w a y s t h e s a m e age. And each time I s e e h e r, I w i s h h e r e y e s d i d n ’ t l o o k a w a y, a n d t h a t o n e d a y she’ll turn to look at me.

Widely published in journals, Oz Hardwick’s latest poetry collection is An Eschatological Bestiary (Dog Horn, 2013). Oz has performed his work, both solo and in collaboration with a variety of musicians, in Europe, the USA, and throughout the UK. By day, Oz is Programme Leader for English and Writing at Leeds Trinity University.

JEM HENDERSON

CAT WOMAN Growing up, we never had a cat. My mother only liked dogs, big ones that would need miles of walks that kept me and my sister out of the house for long periods of time, so my mother could do whatever it was she was doing that day. She moved away when I was nine, choosing alcohol over her two children. That was 1983. In 2005, I moved here to York to try and get to know her. It was no good. She lived on a rundown estate, the noise of sirens constant outside her window during our stilted conversations, over tea served in tannin stained cups. She had changed in one way, anyway. Cats. More cats. Twenty, thir ty at a time. There were visits from the police, the RSPCA. Tickets. Summons. Rescue attempts by concerned neighbours and teenage girls. You name it. Her standard response was ‘let the neighbourhood dogs thin out the crowd. You can imagine her carpets; the sharp scent of piss that burns the throat. When she died and the little flat where she lived was cleared out, a hundred, maybe more, kitten skeletons littered the back garden, hidden by knee height grass and a rose bush that scratched me so I bled when I tried to cut it back. Now I’ll make a confession. My mother’s ashes sat in the urn outside near the front door for months. I didn’t really know what to do with them until my next door neighbour asked me to watch her cat while she went on holiday. I took great pleasure mixing my mother’s ashes in with the gravelly cat litter. After all, she did say she loved cats. They were her babies.

KRISTIN HUGO

JANE DOE

I have found dead birds, squirrels, raccoons, and deer just a few feet from the road. Given her proximity to the street, it’s most likely that Jane died after being struck by a motorist. It’s okay I suppose; the deer population is still stable in this area. There is consolation in that fact. She wasn’t any sor t of keystone; the logical

She had been dead for a while when I found her. Her bones, dry and sunbleached, were scattered widely on the side of the hill, her skull fragmented and almost unidentifiable. She was just young blacktail deer. Too many of the dead animals I find are so young, even fawns. Deer, coyotes, turkey vultures and Jericho crickets inhabit Macedo Ranch, hills nestled in an unknown corner of Mt. Diablo. Cattle languidly chew the grass, which is characteristically golden most of the year. Residents don’t like this living gold, and they don’t want it in their gardens. They think the native grass looks dead. It’s not. It’s just drought resistant; it dries in the summer and comes green again in the spring, as verdant as ever. You should be so lucky as to come back

conservationist sheds no tears for her. Years ago I found a familiar calico pelt flattened on the side of the road. The pattern was random but unmistakable. It was the remains of my first cat, who had met the same fate as Jane. The cat population didn’t suffer much, and the ecosystem was not disrupted. I am a conservationist, I’ve been involved in countless environmental effor ts and minored in sustainability, studying statistics and population curves on char ts, and I am astutely logical. But my cat was not just an organism or a par t of a food web. She was Mew Mew. She had slept in the crib with my sister. So I cried for her.

from the dead.

I made a simulacrum, I laid down the scattered bones as they may have been

You can get to the top of the mountain by starting at Macedo Road, through

thinking of the natural cycle of life and death and the food web would have

trails that are cut through with shallow creeks, where red-winged blackbirds call in the cattails, and over bare rock. I have run hundreds of miles here, most of the time never having realized how many skeletons rest there to be found, if you just know where to look. Cattle were brought to these hills by the Spanish to feed Mission San Jose, and to this day their descendants live and die in the shadow of the Devil Mountain. In dry creek beds and at the convergence of hills I find, touch, arrange skeletons, morbid but an osteal testament to the animal in life.

perimor tem. I didn’t know Jane Doe, and she wasn’t my pet, but I doubt that brought her much consolation in her final moments. Was she the same fawn who had hid in my own back yard? Did she bleat at her herd members before expiring? I picked up her triangular distal phlanges, from toes that skittered up the yellow hillside. I saw fear in her eye-sockets, a ghost of when she hesitated, a deer in the headlights. She wasn’t the first skeleton I’d found, and wouldn’t be the last. She had been dead for a while when I found her, and soon she’ll be grown over with golden grass.

Of course I would rather find the animal herself, alive, but bones are noticeably easier to catch. My deer waited patiently where the hills met the road. Jane Doe was a victim of the edge effect, wherein the ecological community of a habitat is affected by sharing a boundary with another habitat or urban area.

Kristin Hugo is a West-Coast bone hunter and animal enthusiast. She

There are herds of Colombian blacktail deer that live in these hills, but as they

received a journalism degree from Cal State Northridge and now writes

venture closer to the city, they spend more time in gardens and crossing streets, and so they are more vulnerable to being hit by cars. On dozens of occasions

the blog called StrangeBiology. Currently she is working on turning the blog into a book while working a day job in the Silicon Valley and doing outdoor recreation in the evenings.

C . Z . WA R N E S

beyond, but, frightened though I was, I had to behold it. This was Your tract.

THE ORDER OF THE DEAD Dear Master,

The eternal spirits have always guided me. For their perverse

entertainment, they confused and distracted me too, so my quest has been tortuous and fraught with peril. But when their mirth dried, their skeletal fingers

I have read countless zines and pamphlets. If oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ideas are sufficiently

overwhelming and unor thodox that one must etch and circulate them oneself, surely these are visions which enhance collective understanding. And many a time h as a zine cast a flicker of light upon The Way. But never before has every letter of a treatise sent tolls of the deep reverberating through my soul.

Though You are a High Priest of an Order, I recognise this is less a legion

than the opposite of disorder, the way things ought to be. So, pray tell, how does one join The Order Of The Dead? Yours,

gently re-aligned me on the rightful path.

In childhood, I fled from my playmates for the solace of ancient forests,

where I exulted in the dual odours of vitality and rot. Like many teenagers, I shunned the outdoors, the province of sporting clones and sunburnt lager louts, but I heard that same thrilling and sinister whisper through the cacophony of black metal music. I soon realised most of its minstrels espouse ideas beyond their comprehension, but these mysteries captured my imagination and I saw no choice but to unravel them myself.

First, I sought prophets who claimed initiation into the shadow realm. But

they insisted that no representation of their insights could compensate for ritual. Thus, I looked to Satanic organisations for methods and their seductive windowdressing held me in their thrall for some time. Yet vibrations from the beyond eventually exposed these groups as pathetic individuals, craving merely pride and belonging. I want nothing of the sort: only enlightenment, courage and wonder.

Many gurus attest to the power of equal and opposite entities uniting,

and I came to believe I would never see the divine without a mirrored twin. Through Internet forums, I sought one who shared my dreams and I connected with a Belgian lady. Though she seemed reckless and unstable, I understood she was nearing the truth. No victory is won without battle and one must weather

Seeker Novice,

There are five steps. The first is to destroy your drive for pleasure. If you

want to read comics or build model aeroplanes or drink single malts, lose that urge. Write when you have accomplished this. Your Guide Master,

How I rejoiced upon receipt of Your instruction! For I long ago lost my

ability to benefit from ear thly enter tainments. Every pursuit I have under taken has been a means to an end, and now I see their wor thlessness, no joy can be derived. I strode back to the forest when I heard screams of its glories, but the stateliness of trees and the scuttle of small creatures seemed devoid of meaning. I still used songs of wrath and lamentation as accompaniment to my masses, but I came to find them jarring and counterproductive. I continued to read Satanic propaganda after discovering its purpose, so I might glimpse the truth by studying falsehoods. But such discourse has blurred to blather. What do I do next? Eagerly,

nightmares before the dawn. But she had no respect for the immortal flame. Rather than letting it steadily ignite her, she frazzled to a crisp. I found her dead on her sofa, pills spilled over her coffee table, a ceremonial dagger in her heart and a blood-stained parchment in her hand.

It seemed right, however, that fate should remove my final companion in

what must ultimately be a solitary journey. But the text she held was surely the key to the world between. She had plummeted straight through it into the abyss

Seeker Novice, The second step is to cease all activity that makes you feel valued by others. If you have a job, quit it. If you have a Facebook account, delete it. If you help old ladies across the road, let them fall in the traffic. Live like this for a month, then write again. Your Guide

Master,

was pure. Yet erotic visions of her fogged my consciousness. To dwell would be I reply sooner than You requested, for I have lived this way through

numerous moons. I have never worked. When I found the Belgian, I deleted all my online profiles, knowing I should never care to impress another. I never leave my house, for my mother brings me food and essentials. What is step 3? Seeker

knew.

Step 3 is to eschew all human contact. Obtain materials to write two

more letters, then move as far from civilisation as you can. If you see another

And sure enough, when my mind grew drained, I heard voices from the

other side. They only babble fast-forgotten nonsense, but after the next two steps, I trust I will comprehend.

Novice,

pleasure, so I distracted myself by recalling everything I’d done and every fact I

Sometimes I’ve thought, “Only x days to go, then I can return to

normality.” But I can’t, can I? This isn’t a trial, this is how life must forever be. Still, I know this is the only way. Step 4? Seeker

soul, move further. Do not read, watch television, use the Internet, or otherwise experience the presence or legacy of persons, real or fictional. Do this for six months, then report on your progress. Your Guide Master,

This stage has not been easy. It was trivial to begin: the Belgian left me

Novice,

Indeed you must uphold the practices of steps 1-3. And now you must

abandon your remaining comfor ts. Cut up your credit card and throw your cash in a river. Set fire to your caravan and dispose of all but one set of winter clothes, blankets and matches that will enable you to over winter outdoors, and the

everything in her will and she owned countless rare tomes and records, the

materials to write one more letter. Stay in the Ukraine, unless you are depor ted.

sale of which enabled me to buy a caravan and six months’ provisions. Absolute

It is irrelevant whether you dwell in the countryside or a city, providing you shun

solitude has evaded me, however. Farmers banished me from their land and I

the company of others as far as possible. Hunt or steal food. When you fall ill, do

heard walkers shouting inanities to their dogs. After various migrations, during

not obtain medicine. Write when you have done this for six months, though if

which I couldn’t help but see drivers and pedestrians, I had to buy petrol. I

you are arrested, discount any time spent in prison.

drove to the Ukraine, the most desolate land I could access without a visa, and

Your Guide

ventured off road onto the steppe. But even here, people occasionally approach, and because the stamps I bought in England are invalid, I recently drove to the nearest town, bought more and set up a P. O. Box so You can respond. If this degree of isolation is insufficient, I will concoct a plan to avoid humanity entirely, but rest assured, the consequences have been profound. Though I’ve never cared for company, I have also never appreciated the role it plays in my existence. Even the first night, as a storm buffeted my cold caravan, I ached for the television’s drone and the predictable pad of my mother’s slippers. A distraction would have helped tremendously, but in accordance with the first step, I had no means of entertainment. I walked for fifteen minutes a day as exercise, but any more I knew would be indulgence. I savoured every morsel, then recalled that culinary delight was verboten, and ate as quickly as I could. I have always had an unusually low libido and my relationship with the Belgian

Master,

These last six months have been educational. I have never thought upon

the plight of other mor tals, but after frost and hunger, threats and violence, stinging boredom and towering insanity, I feel overwhelming sympathy for those who are forced upon this path against their will. I also appreciate my initial circumstances were very for tunate indeed.

Yet I feel fur ther from the truth than ever. As an infant, the beauty of the

multiverse glimmered through the irrelevant. Now I just want a hot bath and a new pair of shoes. But the deepest sorrow comes before the highest bliss, yes? What is step five? Seeker

Novice,

Guide, Step five is to leave those things on which you still rely. Burn your clothes

This wasn’t the effect you were aiming for, but I’m alive, alive in a way

I’ve never been before, and it’s all thanks to you. Now that I’ve witnessed dead

and blankets. Cease to eat and drink. Your Guide

people besides the Belgian, the ice-encrusted vagrants on the streets of Donetsk, I know that you’re right, death has freed them. But they haven’t known the joy of seeing the numinous, only received a reprieve from seeing anything.

Master, Forgive my shor tage of faith, but won’t I die? Or have I transcended my humanity and no longer require the means generally considered essential to prolonging life? Seeker

prevented me from abandoning hope there and then:”I could murder a cup of tea.” That death too would a relief from anxiety; merely a fleeting distraction, but I could always join the tea in permanent oblivion if I saw fit. I have not. I phoned my Mum who arranged for me to return to England,

where upon she presented me with a rather tasteless cuppa. Since then my

I couldn’t possibly say. Me

life has been one of similarly modest pleasures. I go to the gym, take Ukrainian lessons, and volunteer at a homeless shelter. I have a girlfriend, who likes hip hop and runs perennially late, but I realise now, I cannot have everything. Which

Master,

When I got your letter, I should have been devastated that my lifelong

quest had led me to dead end (excuse the pun). Yet one pressing concern

Correspondent,

You can’t say or You won’t say? I am wracked with indecision. Though I

is fine. Because my own death was not necessary, only the slaughter of those malevolent spirits who promised me the all and would never deliver.

have followed Your instruction as closely as I could, I sense myself wholly enslaved

Thanks,

by my mortality. This is a most sacrilegious and impertinent question, but in this

time of grave consternation, pray humour me: You are Yourself a fully-initiated member of The Order Of The Dead, aren’t You? Seeker Correspondent,

The insanity really has taken hold, hasn’t it? Of course I’m not a fully-

initiated member. How could I write to you from an urn or a coffin? I stand by what I prescribed: nothing but death will free us from our mundane concerns. Nevertheless, as a high priest of The Order Of The Dead, I am obliged to remain on this plane, guiding interested parties through the stages of initiation, until the fates determine that I hang up my robes and join the congregation. Me

C. Z. Warnes divides her time between north Cumbria and the road. When she’s not attending metal gigs, studying German and Norwegian, playing in an orchestra and writing computer games, she works diligently on The Great Novel. So expect to see it in about 2050. Her website is at www.verbalvoodoo.org.

NOCTIR

Suicide is looked down upon for many reasons. One of the major causes for this is that others are too afraid to follow the same path. Misery loves company

ON SUICIDE Suicide is a very controversial subject, to say the least. Just the word itself stirs up a lot of strong feelings in many people. There is something very powerful about the act of going against every natural instinct for self-preservation and making the decision to end your own life. Every creature on earth, no matter how large or small, will do anything in its power to continue to survive. The same is true for most humans. This explains why so many will opt to persist even if they are kept alive by machines and have absolutely zero quality of life. Yet the act of committing suicide is to cast away these chains and to overcome the dominant instinct that is a characteristic of every living thing on the planet. As well, it is to conquer the fear of the unknown; the fear of death that so frequently is the only reason a lot of people fight, claw, and scratch to prolong their existence. But some are more than willing to accept death. They not only look forward to it, they seek to hasten its arrival. Of course, there are many reasons for suicide. Often, it is a matter of complete hopelessness; of enduring absolutely unbearable pain, whether it be mental or physical or both, with no end in sight. In such cases, killing oneself may be the only logical choice, regardless of how hard it is for others to accept this. At times, there may be no clear indications of why a person is miserable, as they may be very depressed despite not having such bad circumstances. Some people are simply more “awake” than the masses. They see the world around them from a completely different perspective. In fact, they see something entirely different from what most others see. That is not to say that they are more intelligent, though it is often the case. These people see through the illusion of this world and are horrified by it. What they see is the utter nightmare that this world truly is. Unconcerned with the trivial things that distract so many, they can feel the true emptiness of the modern age. They can sense the pointlessness of everything. No matter what we do, in the end, it is all meaningless. Living in this false realm is seen as a curse to such individuals. When coupled with deeper mental and/or physical agony, it may be too much to bear.

and those who are too afraid to leave this world behind, and wish to cling to whatever false hopes they can, are bothered to see some that refuse to par ticipate in the great lie. Usually, they do not even like to associate with someone that sees through it all and speaks the truth. It shakes their own fragile existence and the untruths that it is built upon. They fear those who take things into their own hands and end their lives because, deep down, they know that they could never do such a thing. This also cheapens life, in a sense, shattering yet another illusion for those that want to think that human life is so precious and special. For someone to reject this “gift” and to go into the unknown, it somehow makes those left behind feel even more weak and afraid. They come up with many excuses, telling suicidal people to think of those that they will be saddened by their choice. Yet what are those people doing to make things better? It is asinine to think that someone continue to suffer and exist in pure hell just for the purpose of sparing others the temporary sadness that would come as a result of their suicide. Anyone that truly cares, if they cannot help a suicidal person, should at least be understanding enough to not let their selfish desires get in the way. Another explanation for suicide being looked down upon is simply because there are a lot of people that do it for no reason. Or, rather, they do it for the wrong reason. I do not agree with those that end their lives based on nothing more than an extreme emotional reaction to something. A teenage girl that kills herself because a classmate called her ugly or a young boy that shoots himself because his first girlfriend dumped him would both be examples of senseless deaths. They often call suicide a permanent solution for temporary problems. In those cases, that is very accurate. However, when a person has problems that simply have no solution, it is a different matter altogether. Even the most idiotic people sor t of understand when a terminally ill person chooses to die. Unfor tunately, there are other instances where a person is completely hopeless and has no chance for a decent life, but they are scorned because they don’t happen to have a recognizable disease. Sometimes, a person simply realizes that there is no hope. Even someone of fairly average intelligence should be able to recognize patterns and to use logic to predict what will happen. When one has been trapped in an endless cycle of suffering, for years and years, even a complete idiot can realize that it is not likely to change. Obviously, trying different approaches to solve the

problems and alleviate the misery might be beneficial. One should not opt for

death for most. Still, some people simply cannot accept this. Sur viving just to

suicide without trying everything they possibly can. Once all of those options are

suffer, with no chance of escaping this hell, is just not wor th it. Increasing pain

exhausted, reaching out to others for help is the next step, though degrading.

and deepening depression, with no real hope of bettering things is pure hell

Whether begging help from friends, family, social welfare institutions, etc. these

and is no way to live. In fact, it is not even wor th being called “life”. So then, if

things should at least be attempted. If outside assistance still fails to change the

one is not truly alive, is it even possible for them to die?

circumstances in any possible manner, then it is rather safe to say that the course is unalterable and that one can either accept their fate and suffer until they

When existence is so empty, save for the pain, agony, misery, despair, sorrow,

gradually grow old and die, or they can take things into their own hands and still

loss, hopelessness, hunger, solitude, homelessness and so on, is it not better to

do whatever necessary to end the agony.

put an end to this? For those that have used their brains to their fullest extent and still failed to solve such problems and to improve their conditions, as well

It may be hard for many to accept, but sometimes dead is better. After suffering

as reached out to anyone and everyone that they possibly could (to no avail),

a lifetime of misfor tunes; i.e. physical and mental abuse, molestation, neglect,

I think it is perfectly acceptable for them to then consider the only option that

homelessness, abandonment, injuries, constant physical pain, severe depression,

they have left. It is not even a matter of seeking happiness and love and fulfilment

lack of friends or family to provide any sor t of safety net and so on, one may

and success and all of that. The point is that if someone is in constant torment

rightfully look at the evidence and conclude that nothing is going to get better.

-- physically, mentally and emotionally -- there is always one final option when

Year after year of things only getting worse, with no sign of improvement and

all others have failed. Death solves all problems. Like the title of the well-known

no new ideas or strategies and no one to offer help, would appear to indicate

Dissection instrumental says, “no dreams breed in breathless sleep”. When death

that one could expect only more of the same. Naysayers will often point out

has come, all nightmares end. The torment is over. For some, there are other

that they know of someone that came from an even more brutal background

methods of escaping the countless horrors of this existence. Yet for others, there

and still managed to overcome it all to make a pleasant life. It may be true

is only one path to lead them beyond this hell.

that “Mr. X”, down the street or on the other side of the planet, had worse circumstances and an even more difficult life. Some have it better than others and some have it worse. Yet that does not change anything. Not all people are equipped with the same tools and coping mechanisms, for one. In addition, nearly every person that I have ever heard such a tale from also went on to say how they would never have survived to make it if one or more people had not helped them along the way. Whether with advice or suppor t or more concrete forms of assistance, there is almost always some other person that intervened and aided them in their rise from the abyss. When someone is completely alone, lost in the dark with no idea where to go or what to do or who to turn to, only misled by liars and those who would take advantage of the situation rather than help... there comes a point where that person should assess the situation and to decide if there is any chance of repairing things or if continuing to exist will only prolong their pointless suffering. For those that are weak-minded and fearful, it may be about quantity over quality. Even serving a life sentence in prison and being raped on a daily basis may be preferable to

Noctir is a black metal vocalist. Bands include Nattsvargr, Blackmoon and Nocturnal Abyss. He is also a metal DJ, hosting “The Abyss” since late 2001. The program’s most prominent concentration is on black metal, with healthy doses of speed, thrash, doom and old school death metal as well as NWOBHM and traditional heavy metal.

MJ KOBERNUS

THE RIVER ROLLS ON

Death is not terrifying. It is not the end of life but its

transformation. Dying releases the energy of our beings and lets us recombine in new ways, creating new life. We are still a par t of the univer se; we never leave. The river rolls on.

Many people have a fear of death. It is called necrophobia. For

some, it plagues their lives and is a constant source of dread and unease. Why is this? Is death something that we should fear? Does worr y help us to avoid it? Can we eek out our existence one second longer for all the hair pulling, bead counting and hand wringing worr y? Of course not.

Perhaps then wasting time on something that we cannot avoid is

pointless, and ser ves no purpose? Perhaps. But perhaps there is value in contemplating death? After all, it is a major event in all our lives. But while it may come to us all, what does it really mean to us?

In some cultures, death is not seen as a permanent fixture. It is not

the silent night, the abyss of nothingness, but a transitor y state through which we pass on the way to, hopefully, more elevated levels of being.

This sounds attractive, and it makes me wonder why we put

so much credence into religions that teach permanent salvation or

But if this still terrifies you, then calm your self. Look to your child.

Kiss and hold your baby and remember that you are blessed with two lives. The one that will recombine in endless ways in the univer se, a pure energy that can become anything and ever ything, and in the other, you live on in your child. You hold the end point of billions of men and women in your arms. Now look around you. Do you see other men and women? Other children? They are a par t of you too. They are your sister s and brother s. They carr y the same thoughts and dreams as you. They live, they die and they transform just as you do. And yet, they carr y on too. A par t of them exists, and will always exist in the billions of lives that exist in the wor ld. You are par t of that great chain of life. And when you die, that chain is not broken. It connects with ever y other chain, ever y other life that ever was and ever will be.

The river rolls on.

damnation. The ver y idea of a heaven or hell is quite contrar y to all that we know about the universe, which arguably may not be all that ver y much. But letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just think about this for a second. Letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s take a step back and consider what is life, before we consider what is death.

Ever y new life that is born is the result of millions of years of care

and struggle and love. We are the endpoint for the hopes and dreams of a multitude. We are each of us Legion. This is a form of immor tality. Whatever else happens, we are a par t of the great river of humanity. One drop more or less, what matters it? The river will keep rolling.

I do not fear death. All life is but a complex dance of energy and

matter. When the substance of the matter changes, it is not lessened, it

MJ Kobernus is an Anglo/American living in Norway. A writer, archer, guitarist

is not gone. Burn a log of wood and you get ashes. But you also get heat,

and motorcycle aficionado, he has travelled widely, loved wildly, and written

and flames and smoke. Energy is released into the universe, to mingle and combine and be made anew.

weirdly on many topics. He enjoys combining philosophical and spiritual elements with Fantasy, while exploring the darker side of the human psyche. Visit: metaphysicalgeometry.blogspot.no/

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