When I was younger, summertime, to me, meant curling up on a sweaty vinyl chair on the screened-in back porch with a pitcher of powdered iced tea drink and reading stories of ghosts and monsters and possessed children. If I was lucky, the skies would darken at midday, the winds would pick up, and a fearsome storm would thunder through the area; this is a common occurrence on a summer afternoon in central Florida, and normally would not last more than ten minutes.
I avoided the sun when at all possible; I did not relish playing outside with my sisters or the neighbor’s kids, I did not care for trips to the beach, I didn’t like being hot and sticky and gross. And I didn’t really have any friends to do any of those things with, anyhow. But then again, I’d never had many friends, so I really didn’t know any better and I didn’t feel badly about it! These long, sweltering days on the back porch voraciously tearing through stacks upon stacks of cheap, lurid used bookstore finds are some of the happiest memories I have from my pre-teen years. This was how summer was supposed to be, I thought, and at the ages of 11/12/13, I was young enough to have the luxury of spending that time however I liked. And after the daily rains, which were impatiently anticipated and perfectly inevitable -that was my favorite part of the day: a few glorious moments when the humidity dropped the tiniest bit, the air cooled a few degrees, and the sun disappeared entirely, culminating in a rich scent that still tugs at my memories and the edges of my dreams many years later. The musty scent of disintegrating paperbacks, the air heavy with the sweet, musky fragrance of jasmine, the tang of ozone, just before a heavy rainfall. This was the scent of my summers.
Years later when it comes to scenting myself for summer weather, I steer clear of many of the perfumes marketed for these sizzling, stifling afternoons when the evil day star holds sway. I don’t want to smell like the synthetic coconut of greasy suntan lotion, nor do I want to smell like those generic aquatics that are supposedly “crisp and refreshing” or the ubiquitous green tea and cucumber/melon melange which smell like so many country club air fresheners. Yes, I do want something lighter, for anything richer and heavier would certainly suffocate and strangle me in our notoriously murky, muggy Southern summers…but I want a scent that also evokes some sort of nostalgia, triggers a memory, conjured a long-forgotten dream.
Below is a list of my five preferred fragrances in this vein; scents for these summer months that are at turns cooling, invigorating, revitalizing and imaginative: summer scents for those who shun the sun.
Coriandre by Jean Couturier is a light, lovely chypre launched in the mid-70’s. If you are not familiar with chypres, well, they seem to be a rather divisive grouping of scents, with perfume lovers falling squarely in either the Love Them or Hate Them camps. To me, generically, chypres smell a bit cold and astringent, distant; but Coriandre is on the warmer, more familiar end of the spectrum. It does remind me of something from the 70s; it’s got a hazy Polaroid quality to it. A warm, grassy summer day recalled through the yellowed veil of memory. It’s dry and woody and musky and I think it smells a bit like a lovely little secret that you might never be ready to share.
Annick Goutal’s Mandragore reminds me of a scene in the 1980’s vampire film The Lost Boys, when the main characters’ grandpa says “….well that’s about as close to town as I like to get.” My perfume shelf is filled mostly with deep, dark, resinous fragrances, and Mandragore, with its bright lemony/peppery opening that quickly fades to a soft, minty bergamot, is as close to a “summer scent” as I like to get. It’s a lovely, (softly) zingy scent that calls to mind some sort of mildly alcoholic herbal shandy one might drink to refresh one’s self at the close of a balmy June afternoon. Unfortunately, much like the buzz from this weak cocktail, the scent lasts but a moment and is gone.
Safran Troublant by L’Artisan is a wonderfully restorative, heart-warming/opening scent. It should be part of a comforting bedtime ritual at the end of a long, hot day where one has done a lot of yard work or gardening. There’s a comforting sweetness to it, though not at all sugary or cloying. A creamy sandalwood pudding, a lukewarm bath lightly infused with milk and rose petals and a deep, enveloping hug. You’ll sleep quite well and be visited by the loveliest midsummer dreams.
Danube, by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab is a beloved scent that is, for me, more about memory than the actual fragrance itself. It is a deep blue aquatic scent – but not salty, ozone-y, beachy aquatic, nor is it murky, swampy aquatic. Like a cold swimming pool on a hot day (maybe if you were adding grapefruit to your pool instead of chlorine) with every blue flower imaginable floating on top of it. Imagine being 6 years old and holding your breath and submerging yourself in a swimming pool, then slo-o-o-wly sinking to the bottom. The water is chilled, you feel like the only person in the world and everything is totally silent. Imagine peering up and seeing the sun streaming down into the water, between all of the blue petals. It’s calm and soothing and serene and is an absolutely a must for hot, sticky weather and for people who haven’t got a swimming pool. Unfortunately, I do believe that Danube is discontuned. For other other unique summer scents from BPAL, sniff out Fae (sweet, floral, peachy), and Zephyr (light musk, soft lemon and florals), and Aeval (dried herbs & sweet pea & tonka and it smells like all of my favorite occult bookshops at once -herbs and oils and stones and crystals and and the crisp pages of unopened books filled with unlearned knowledge.)
When I was 18, I was dating the boy who used to live next door to me, but who had since graduated high school and moved to Indiana to attend Notre Dame. We spent a week together on summer break, during which time he had flown down South to stay with me and my family. It was early in this visit that he proposed to me on the beach one night, and I accepted…though something told me that this was a doomed venture. I knew it was not going to last, and yet I agreed anyway; I suppose I just liked the idea that something interesting loomed in the distant future for me. One late afternoon a few days later, we took a drive; the sun hung low on the horizon, the windows were down, and on the wind that ruffled our hair was the musky, sweet scent of orange blossoms, as we had just driven past a massive orange grove. Jo Malone’s Orange Blossom smells like that summer afternoon, sweet blooms and dying suns and the melancholy of tears yet to be shed for reasons you’re not quite sure of.
A bonus scent, which I have mentioned before, so it didn’t seem quite fair to list it above: Comme des Garcons Incense Series: Kyoto. To be honest, Kyoto is my go-to fragrance no matter what the season; it’s austere and meditative and calls to mind a dark prayer in a cool, shadowy forest temple. But there is something exceptionally wonderful about it in the summer months. On a day of wretched, heated summertime oppression, do this: draw the curtains, dim the lights, strip naked, and liberally spritz yourself with Kyoto. Lay on your bed, mid-afternoon in the dark. Nap for a time. Dream of cooler places. And for what it’s worth, I just purchased my 5th bottle of this particular scent (and you know I have quite a lot of perfumes to choose from) so Kyoto is obviously getting a lot of mileage.
What scents do you dream of in summer time? What cools you down & soothes your brow when the temperatures soar?
Last month I had the privilege of interviewing Sarah Faith Gottesdiener, a designer, art director, and artist whose artwork and design is based in the spiritual, feminist, and mystical. Sarah is the creative force behind Modern Women, an intersectional feminist gear company, combining the different elements of designing, art-making, publishing, editing, and collaborating under the unifying umbrella of Feminist and Queer philosophy. We spoke specifically about one of her wonderful offerings, The Many Moons workbook, and how the moon and its magic influences her creative practices.
If you missed it when it initially went live on Haute Macabre, I highly encourage you to give our interview a read now–Sarah is a brilliantly inspiring luminary and no doubt this workbook, which imagines a world where witches, women, femmes, & weirdos make their dreams come true, is relevant to all of your interests! You know, all two of you who read this blog.
Kaleidoscope Color editorial shot for Interview Magazine by Gregory Harris, 2011
It’s well and truly summer. Sigh. I guess that means hemlines rise and colors lighten up. SIGH. You know I have a very difficult time with these concepts.
But sometimes it’s good to go with the flow, right? Experiment a little? Maybe don’t go too crazy (as the title of this post suggests), but perhaps…just one crayon at a time? I think we can do this.
Find a slip of a dress that whispers the soft pink of the dawn before the day’s heat begins to blaze; a sheer tank top that reflects the cool, clear blue of a secret swimming spot, a weirdly patterned frock in the bold shades of children’s pool floaties or another echoing the hues of a deep red rose, a tee shirt screaming the lurid orange of the sun’s dying rays on a late July afternoon, or a dress the vibrant green of grass clippings that stick to your feet when you walk outside barefoot to get the mail, after the lawn man has cut two weeks worth of growth…
Below you will find a few suggestions in this vein; I would typically direct you to click each ensemble to take you to a page with details, but unfortunately, future me had to edit this past post to indicate that these were created using Polyvore and those useless jerks fucked off into the sunset with all of that data a few years ago. Just google “purple shirt” or whatever. I don’t know what to tell you.
A long, long time ago, I had a livejournal account. As a matter of fact, I had several. I was always moving around, and purging and deleting and recreating myself. Mostly because I was living with a despot, an utter bastard of a human being who could not bear the fact that I had connections beyond the tenuous and yet tyrannical connection that he had with me. I had few friends beyond those I developed online, and I would be damned if he ruined that.
Thusly, a new livejournal name every three months or so (and again, my apologies to those who had a hard time keeping up with me.) Before all that, though, in the early days of LJ, I became somewhat friends with a certain LJ user. You know what I mean by “somewhat friends”; you thought they were really cool, so you friended them, and then eventually they friended you back and every once in a while you’d comment on each other’s posts but you never exchanged email addresses or AIM account info, so you probably weren’t really good friends, right?
This person, we will call her A.–and I am refraining from using real names or even online usernames or monikers, the reasons for which I will explain shortly*– was an artistic sort, and i loved seeing the creations she chose to share, and the evolution of her work. I enjoyed reading about the new techniques that she employed, and the snippets of whimsical, surreal poetry and prose that would sometimes accompany a new piece. I rejoiced with her when her work was commissioned as cover art for a work of speculative fiction/fantasy. I looked forward to every time something she posted in my feed…until one day, after noting a prolonged absence on her part, I realized her journal had been purged and her site had been taken down.
I grieved in a quiet sort of, hopefully non-creepy way. I barely knew a thing about this person, and we certainly weren’t true friends, but I found myself strangely bereft not knowing where she was or what was going on with her. Every few years I half-heartedly peek around the internet to see what turns up; one year, through a blog I thought belonged to her partner at the time, I briefly saw her appear under a new username. I found that same username listed in a popular fragrance forum which I lurk about frequently. I reached out to the user and never received a response. A few years after that, while searching for her older user name, I saw that she commented frequently on a certain blog over a decade ago. It appeared that the blogger and she were on friendly terms and seemed to be personally acquainted, and what excited me is that the blog had been consistently updated and was current. I found the blogger on twitter and contacted him. He wrote back to me! He knew who I was looking for, and thought she was well and said that he would pass my information on.
I never heard back.
I should learn a lesson from this, I imagine. Some people don’t want to be found. Perhaps some people don’t want to be found by me. Or, at least they don’t want to be found by revenants from their past, good, bad, or otherwise. And so I stopped searching, and poking, and peering and prying. My intentions were good, but I don’t wish to hurt anyone. I don’t wish to be a reminder of a life someone has tried to leave behind…I mean, I think I understand that almost better than anyone. And so I am not linking to anything I have found, or referring to this person by any of the names I know them by–that’s not fair, and who knows, it might even be dangerous for them. I don’t know their circumstances, do I?
But I do hope they are well, and that they are happy, and that they continue to create. I’m afraid for her, and for many artists, I suppose, that once they disappear, their work might too. And I thought it was so beautiful, and that she had so much potential, and it nearly breaks my heart to think that one day there will be no evidence of it. That it will be as if it, and she, never existed.
If you read this one day, A.,you’re probably going to be weirded out. Our exchanges were so brief… the only one I actually even remember is our mutual complaint of over-sized SUVs in the tiny parking spaces of small apartment complexes. Why do I care so much? Why do I care at all? I think maybe you were (are?) a sensitive soul and I that you will understand, even if I can’t articulate it. Are you still creating? I hope so. Be well, where ever you are.
This is me letting go.
(But I wanted to have a record of some sort, of your fantastical works, just in case. I hope you are okay with that. )
*though I have refrained from using names, etc., I have left the watermark on the art, because I think it’s kind of rude to mess around with that stuff.
The Crone issue, the final chapter in Sabat Magazine’s life cycle, arrived in my mailbox this weekend. The timing is interesting; I’ve been reflecting often lately on this ancient archetype, ruminating on a chapter in my own life that has recently ended, with the loss of my own beloved crone, my 96 year old grandmother and family matriarch.
As I remove the magazine from the cardboard envelope, I note its heft and weight in my grip, similar to that of the previous issues I have received, The Maiden and The Mother, but with The Crone there is a grandeur and gravitas and air of finality that is remarkably evident before I even see the cover, before I turn the very first page. And so I pause. For many reasons, I don’t know that I am ready for this journey to end.
I’ve been keenly interested in Sabat’s offerings since whisperings of its inception; I delighted in wonder and excitement at the raw, unharnessed power of the Maiden Issue; I basked in the complex, mysterious vitality and mental/spiritual nourishment offered in The Mother. The Crone lies in front of me, beckoning and wise, and still I hesitate. I am afraid. It feels like fate. It feels like death.
But when I search my heart, (which feels ancient lately, and I am sure I am not the only one), I know better. With an act of creation, there must be a completion. Notes Sabat’s Editor and Creative Director Elisabeth Krohn,
“Sabat was born, came into power, blossomed, we harvested a lot from it — it seems natural that Sabat should die too.”
image credit: Samantha Macabre
There is a transformative magic in endings, though, is there not? After the curtain falls, and in the quiet, stillness, and healing dark, we can reassess, revise, recharge, rebuild. There are revelations and renewals. And sometimes…rebirth. To that end I am happy to report that Krohn, in a recent communiqué with Haute Macabre has shared that, “…the Sabat soul will reincarnate in some other form in the not so distant future.” In darkness, light.
“What is Crone? This third and last issue of Sabat explores one of the most feared, ignored and ridiculed of female archetypes. Embodying a life lived, she is wisdom and audacity, the sacred trickster and dignified doyenne, and perhaps most terrifyingly, past caring about patriarchal proprieties.The one who stands boldly with her lantern in the night, her truth and experience are destroyers of illusion, and not for the faint-hearted. When we are close to an end she asks us: “do you want to fight harder or just let go?” identifying them both as viable options.”
An amazing community of artists, photographers, writers, and witches (including Haute Macabre’s very own Sonya Vatomsky) contributed their unique perspectives to this 164 page multi-faceted tribute to The Crone, the final face of the triple goddess:
“Pam Grossman holds a torch for the twilight years, and Jenna Opsahl looks for signs of the end in The Omen. We enter into the darkest of the woods with April Graham and the Baba Yaga. Queer feminist Witch and anti-ageist activist Dulcamara lets me in on a crone perspective and Elisabeth O’Neill investigates how to be a Virtuous Vampire. David Zunker explores the astrological connection between Saturn and fate and encourages you to Go Your Own Way, while Sophie Holmes and the #witchesofinstagram let us know when it’s time to #letitgo.”
image credit: Samantha Macabre
Structured around that elegant monochrome design with which we have become familiar, and including a brooding, moody mix of atmospheric black and white photography and illustrations, The Crone issue also boasts a beautiful series of die-cut moon phase symbols on title pages, fiery red inserts, occasional, luminous gloss pages and the bewitching sorcery of that double fore-edge painting of the pages; when fanned one way: “IN DARKNESS LIGHT”, and the other: “EN EREBOS PHOS”.
With Sabat Magazine, and The Crone issue in particular, Elisabeth Krohn and those with whom she worked on these preternaturally powerful publications, has created splendid works of art that deserve a special place on your shelf, your altar, or where ever you keep your magical objects of power.
What comes next, then? The unknown. But “…meanwhile,” Krohn writes with hope and love, with both darkness and light,
“…the power of three will set you free.”
I very nearly had a piece in here*, myself, but alas it was submitted too late and there was not enough room. However! My wonderfully talented friend Sonya Vatomsky contributed not one, but two pieces in this issue, so that makes me feel pretty good. (Also I did actually sneak something kind of small into this issue after all–let me know if you see it!)
Described as “a David Lynchian fever dream on Beatrix Potter terrain”, Christiane Cegavske’s exquisitely-crafted stop motion tale Blood Tea and Red String is a macabre delight and a labor of love that was 13 years in the making. The film, a dialogue-free, avant garde “fairy tale for adults” follows two groups of anthropomorphic creatures in fancy costumes -the aristocratic White Mice and the rustic Creatures Who Dwell Under the Oak – and the “struggle over the doll of their heart’s desire.” This struggle, notes one critic, is so fascinating because the actions and emotions of these bizarre creatures “so uncannily resemble warts-and-all human behavior”. We find a “disturbing comfort” in these unconventional characters, and we see ourselves in this magic world that Cegavske creates.
This beguiling, nightmarish, deceptively whimsical world extends far beyond the phantasmagoric fable that is Blood Tea and Red String. Cegavske, also responsible for the animation in Asia Argento’s The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things, began dabbling in film making and animation at an early age (5th grade!) with an oddly satisfying-sounding claymation short about trick-or-treaters whose candy is stolen. Not only is she an extraordinary film maker, but a talented artist in several mediums and a self professed “Creator of Many Things” with an Etsy shop full of delightful oddities as well.
See below for a tête-à-tête with Christiane in which we parley on the subjects of muses and myths, future dreamscapes, and fancy edibles.
It took 13 years to make this film – is that typical of this sort of venture? During that time were you working on other creative endeavors or was your sole focus dedicated on this particular project?
Christiane Cegavske: I don’t really know. Most people aren’t crazy enough to attempt such a long project without funding and a crew. The high budget animated films get done a lot quicker, of course.
It was my primary focus, but I’ve always got other projects going. I continued to paint and write and sew. Side projects can invigorate a primary project. By letting your mind wander to less overwhelming work, solutions to previously insurmountable trouble can suddenly appear. The thing that really slowed this project down, was earning a living. It can really be a challenge to produce artwork after you are exhausted from working all week.
Blood Tea and Red String, 2006Blood Tea and Red String, 2006Blood Tea and Red String, 2006
I have heard tell that Blood Tea and Red String is part of a trilogy – is there any truth to that, and if so…can you tell me a bit about what we might expect to see in these sequels and when we might expect to be able to view them?
Yes that is true. I am currently working on Seed in the Sand which is part two. I don’t know when this one will be completed. I have a few other projects that were on hold during production of Blood Tea and Red String, that I want to complete first. My main focus right now is a series of 8 paintings that have been plaguing my mind for the last 10 years. A few months ago, I finally started to work on them. It feels so good to see them developing now.
In devoting so much time to a project it must be inevitable that you run across other amazing artists with whom to collaborate -is this how you came to know Mark Growden, for example, who provided the haunting soundtrack for Blood Tea and Red String?
I am very fortunate to know some amazingly talented people.
I first went to see Mark perform with some friends of mine. I really liked his music and he gave me a CD at the show. Later, I was watching my work print of my film and my friend started playing Mark’s CD. There was a scene where the music matched up to the visuals so well, I just knew I wanted him to compose the music for my film. Luckily he was interested and agreed to do it.
Mark gave me a copy of his new CD, “Saint Judas” and asked if I wanted to make an animated video for him. I listened to it and chose “Coyote”. I told him that was the one I wanted to do, and he said to just follow my inspiration and do what I wanted with it. In return for this music video, Mark is going to create the first song for my new film, Seed in the Sand. With this song, I hope to animate a portion of the beginning of the movie. I am almost ready to begin animating. I just have to get the set finished and find a way to purchase the camera. I hope to get the Canon EOS Rebel T2i EF-S, but at this time I don’t have a way to purchase it. If I get everything ready and still can’t get the camera, I can still shoot a short promotional scene with the equipment I have. The quality just won’t be adequate for the final film, so I would have to reshoot that part.
You call yourself “a creator of many things” – off the top of my head, and in addition to being a film maker I know you are also a poet, a painter and a seamstress – what else are you involved in? Where else can we see your work?
I came up with the title Creator of Many Things because I was at a loss to categorize myself since I do make art in so many mediums. You’ve listed my primary pursuits nicely. I guess you might add “creator of fancy edibles” and “doll maker” in there. So far the edibles are just for family and friends, but more than one person has suggested that I make a cookbook to share my inventions. That is pretty far down on my staggering to-do list though. Maybe I will put one together for my little girl when she goes off to college in about 13 years.
There are currently two books of my poetry available, and I am working on illustrating a short story called “The Black Cloak”, no publication date set at this time, and the series of paintings that I intend to release as an art book when finished.
Have you found that your recent move from the city (LA) to the woods of Oregon has helped or hindered your creative process?
It has been severely disorienting. Since I have a child, it helps to have my family around for support, but I am not sure how I feel about staying here long term. I don’t like the isolation from my peers. If I just consider it a temporary hermitage it helps. I am able to work on my paintings out here and I have a nice sized garage studio. I didn’t have a studio for shooting film in LA. So that is a big improvement.
“Cat’s Cradle”, Oil on Canvas
Crows, ravens, ragdolls – these things show up quite frequently in your work, in almost every medium. What draws you to these items, what meaning do they hold for you?
That is a little tricky to answer as putting a definition to them takes away from some of the symbolism that hits the viewer behind the rational mind, but I will comment. Crows and ravens are like my muses, my familiars or my alter ego. They watch and tell and illustrate. They are usually portrayed as helpers, sometimes mischief-makers, sometimes just witnesses. Ragdolls are like the outer mask of a person. That which is seen and judged and must be discarded to reach authenticity. It is a danger to identify with the doll. Dolls don’t grow, dolls don’t love, dolls don’t feel. It can be tempting to hide inside of one or to love one, but is not a good idea to forget that it is only a thing, not a being.
“Giant Crows at Meat Table”, The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things
There are, of course the obvious comparisons of your work to surrealist Jan Švankmajer and Jiří Trnka, and perhaps to a lesser extent, the Brothers Quay –would you consider these folks among some of your influences ? From where else, or who else, do you draw your inspiration?
Definitely they have influenced me. Beyond my own mythic imaginings that have drawn from many sources in the world around me and sources lost to my conscious memory that I can’t identify, inspirations include Bosch, Botticelli, Frida Khalo, Jan Svankmajer, Ladislas Starewicz, Ray Harryhausen, Joseph Campbell, the ancient myths of many cultures…
“Skeleton Doll with Secret Mouse”, photography by Robin Loznak
What are you currently working on? What can we expect to see from you in the future?
In addition to getting Seed in the Sand ready, I am working on a series of eight small paintings that I want to release as an art book, and I have just finished a script for a live action film I would like to make. There will of course be a little animation in it. My next step is to do a few storyboards and prepare a pitch for it so I can start to search for financial support. I really hope to find a way to make this film. Since it is live action it will require a team to make it. That is a little different than toiling away alone in a garage for years, so I can’t just dive in without help.
One of my friends who read the script liked it so much that he suggested I write more stories. So you may see new publications from me if inspiration takes hold. Time will tell.
My list of projects is excitingly long and sometimes daunting. But, given time, health and support, they will all be accomplished.
A gathering of death related links that I have encountered in the past month or so. From somber to hilarious, from informative to creepy, here’s a snippet of things that have been reported on or journaled about in or related to the Death Industry recently.
I love it that you’re enthusiastic about your babbies and your doggos, and I live for seeing all of your beautiful selfies. Your political talk doesn’t bother me one iota! Sometimes, though, I got a lot of problems with you people. And now you’re gonna hear about it.
A List Of Reasons For Which I Have Unfollowed People On Facebook, Ranked
10. Too many photos of your boring food (delicious looking food is okay).
9. Vaguebooking. Jesus. Either say whatever, or don’t. Quit dicking around.
8. Run-on sentences with no punctuation. Your poorly constructed shit gives me vertigo.
7. Your stupid drama. Work that out privately. You’re causing me the fremdschämen willies.
6. Animal abuse. WTF is wrong with you, you fucking psycho?
5. Your themed engagement photoshoot.
4. Folks who are purportedly #soblessed. You are the literal worst.
3. That friend from long ago who I thought might still be decent, but you posted a Ted Nugent photo.
2. You shared a video of that woman on instagram who is always eating exotic fruit & smiling vacuously
1. You tagged me in something really dumb, in a very public way. You’re dead to me.
