What is it about the desolation of abandoned spaces that fascinates and captivates us so? The architectural corpses of feral homes, deserted temples, ghost towns, dilapidated castles, drifting shipwrecks–whether it’s run-down, ramshackle structures or their derelict surroundings, humans can’t seem get enough of their own oblivion.
There’s an eerie, inherent beauty in decay and abandonment, in the decrepit, ghostly aesthetics of what was once thriving and pristine, now fallen to ruin, suspended in time and place. So many things vanish, yet these decaying buildings, these vestiges of places that once existed, remain in the landscape, reassuring our minds that death might not be the end.
If that’s all just a little too deep to contemplate on an early morning, perhaps then, consider this: in the grim gloom, bleak debris, and phantom shadows we conjure of those who once populated these spaces, there is much in the way of unusual and thrilling imagery to be found. Why not consider incorporating these spectral stories and eerie, distressed, decayed motifs into your seasonal wardrobe shifts?
Whether you’re a natty urban explorer poking about an abandoned asylum or a lounging quaintrelle with a penchant for tea parties in dusty turrets, no doubt you will find a bit of inspiration in the four ensembles I have compiled for you below.
Please note: This post was originally created in 2016 for Dirge Magazine, a site that no longer exists on the internet (except in some form or another at archive.org, probably.) I have not included the items used for these ensembles because these were created four years ago and everything is most assuredly out of stock! If you have questions about anything though, please leave me a comment, and I will try to find the answers for you.
Danvers Asylum
Corfe Castle
Prambanan Temple
Roosevelt Smallpox Hospital
Bonus! For your ears: ominous aural accompaniment to these ensembles in the form of a Spotify playlist , inspired by Roland Torpor’s The Tenant.
Vanitas with Sunflower and Jewelry Box by Maria van Oosterwijck (c. 1665)
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.
It feels super weird and maybe a little tacky to keep mentioning my forthcoming little book goblin, but part of my job of having written it is to occasionally promote it. Please don’t get annoyed with me!
In the vein of keeping updates brief and lively for your eyeballs, I thought I might share a peek at the table of contents. Hopefully, this is what it will all look like in the end, but if it’s not exactly as displayed in these photos and screenshots, it will be pretty close. I’m pretty thrilled that they included this image of Waterhouse’s Circe Indiviosa here, it’s an incredibly gorgeous work, and one of my very favorites by the artist. What do you think?
To anyone who has already preordered a copy, thank you so much! Preorders help with creating an early buzz about a book, and it’s a clear message to the publisher that there is a demand for the author’s work. So I appreciate all of you for sending that message–it means the world to me!
A few years ago I put together a blog post gathering of artwork that I had been gazing upon at that point in time, imagery that enraptured and entranced me, and that buoyed me and kept me afloat when life was feeling rough. Art, in this transportive and transcendent way, is a great balm for me. It always has been.
One thing I noticed about that little gallery, is that, though beautiful, it’s not very diverse, and to put it bluntly, it’s quite full of white faces. I know what my tastes and inclinations are, and I know what I personally find engaging and compelling (moody midnight feels and otherworldly splendor 4ever.) Without sounding too defensive (I hope) I will state unequivocally that I find beauty in all colors of faces and shades of people that inhabit the canvases of the art that I love. But. I’ve actively never examined where it is I am finding these works that I gravitate toward, and who it is creating them–and questioning myself as to why searches for the art I love are so exclusive and narrow.
Black art matters. And it isn’t that Black art is rare or that Black artists are in any way less talented, so why I am not seeing it? Well, the answer is that the onus is on me, as a passionate and enthusiastic admirer of the arts, to find it. To share it. To support it. And to that end, I have been making a daily habit of actively seeking out art created by Black artists and makers of color.
We are living in strange and fraught times right now with this recent and unprecedented-in-our-lifetime pandemic calamity hanging over our heads and our homes, and the long-standing unjust, and, unchecked crisis of violence and oppression of Black people. It’s heartbreaking and infuriating, and I have to believe that we can do better. I have to believe and push at our governing bodies to do better. I have to believe that we are on the precipice of a change.
And sometimes when doing and pushing and even believing is too much…I have to take a break and look at some art. Below are some articles and reading that I have found interesting, informative, and insightful, and below that, I have included a small but powerful gallery of incredible art created by brilliant Black artists.
Well, you knew I was eventually going to do this sooner or later!
Also, this is a small announcement that the publish date for The Art of the Occult has been shifted from September 20, 2020 to October 6, 2020. With the world being in such a state right now, I wouldn’t be totally surprised if that shifted again, but if I find that out, I will update you immediately.
I’ve been keeping quiet but I am not sure that serves anyone. That’s my MO when I don’t know what else to do. But I also know that passivity can’t play a part in activism, and this isn’t the time to indulge in my timid tendency to do behind-the-scenes work.
I’ve been assuming that my family, friends, followers, and fans (can I say “fans”? I might have a fan or two, I don’t know) know that I absolutely condemn racism and the institutionalized oppression and violence against Black people. A small part of me thinks that these words just go without saying. Except they don’t, do they? And it turns out that when it comes to me actually giving voice to these words– to assert them to you, instead of making you assume them of me–that I am not even sure that I am saying the words right.
I don’t kid myself into thinking that I have much of a platform here. But those who regularly read my words are noting a disappointing lack of of them addressing the subjects of social injustice and racial inequality, of unlearning white supremacy, of focusing on working toward current and systemic changes to a shitty system that you can’t even call broken because it’s operating exactly in the dreadful ways it was intended. I know I have to do better. What use are words even for, if not to use their energy and power in working for and creating these changes?
But I know words are not enough. And I am probably going to say some things wrong. I am probably going to do some things wrong. But I am going to fail better, and in the process, hopefully, do better.
What does that mean for me, though, beyond donating and signing petitions? These are both very good things to do and I will continue doing them, but I know there is a gap to be bridged between words and actions, and I need to figure out what that looks like for me.
I don’t know a thing about my local government. About our mayor or city commissioner or zoning laws or what’s going on in the local news. I didn’t even know that we had a Black Lives Matter protest across the Dunlawton Bridge last weekend. This is an admission that is embarrassing, at the very least, but really, it’s irresponsible and shameful. I don’t know what role I want to play in local politics other than being an informed citizen and voter, but that’s a good start.
Seek out and support Black artists. Prior to now, this is not something I have spent much time doing. If I happened to find a piece of dreamy or fantastical art or a spooky or speculative story, or an eerie piece of music or a terrifyingly impactful horror film that also happened to have a Black creator, that was mostly an accident, I guess. It wasn’t something I was paying attention to. I’m working on being much more intentional about seeking out, supporting, and sharing the works of these creators in my reading/watching/eyeball fodder practices –in order to listen, learn from, and lift up voices other than those emanating from the mouths of people who look like me.
Confront racism where I see it/hear it. Which includes addressing my own biases. This is going to be scary. I am scared of everything. Especially confrontation. But what if my skin color was just one more reason for me to be fearful in this world? That’s an ugly thought but more than that, it’s a sickening reality. One that I have never had to struggle with. That’s something to sit with and think about. It’s going to be uncomfortable.
I like to wrap things up neatly, when possible. But wrapping up implies that an end is near; that an end is even possible. Wrapping indicates a great deal of work has been done. I have barely begun. This, then, is not me wrapping up a one-off blog post. This is the messy beginnings of critical work that may not always even make it to this space for you to know about, but which I intend to work at regardless of who may be watching or not. I don’t know if any of these things are right or good or important, but they are practices that feel meaningful to me to start with, and so I have to trust in my gut that they will be beneficial beyond that.
I am sorry that I expected you to make assumptions. Assumptions about where I stand on matters of racism and inequality, what I stand for with regard to social injustice, and who I stand with, in terms of Black Lives Matter. Loudly, as loudly as I can proclaim here in these written words displayed on a screen, I am telling you, my readers; you the people just stumbling across my little spot here; you, the person who finds this space at some future time: Black Lives Matter. Today, tomorrow, and always.
I could not have written this post without the scores of Black writers and creators and bloggers who have given me the language and resources to even begin thinking about this, let alone commit my thoughts to words. If you’re not already, please check out the work and words of the following individuals:
The intro for our monthly installment of Links Of The Dead typically reads as follows: “Some deathly reportings 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 come across my radar with reference to matters of mortality.”
This month I think I am going with: here’s a bunch of mostly depressing news brimming with heartbreak and despair. But some of it may be helpful or heartening, too. Don’t lose hope, friends. We will get through this.
“All the Flowers and Insects” Toru Kamei (2016)
(This month’s featured artist is such a favorite that I am compelled to include two images.)
On this month’s (?) (unidentified measure of time)’s installment of Ten Things, I am thrilled to share the spooky musings of Hannah, creator of the Generally Gothic blog.
Generally Gothic is a collection of content on broadly gothic themes; articles exploring the Gothic within art, literature, architecture, film and television, social history, and life in general.
Today Hannah shares the ten things she finds necessary to maintain these spooky endeavors!
Bio:
Hello! My name’s Hannah and I’m a Master of the Gothic. You can find me online as Generally Gothic, where I blog and post about (you guessed it) the Gothic within the arts and humanities. I am currently exploring literary and historical witches under my current theme: Season of the Witch. You will also find me as Associate Editor of dark literary journal, Coffin Bell, and in the upcoming edition of YOGURT Culture Zine.
One of the questions I am most frequently asked at, and as, Generally Gothic is how I maintain my blog. I am grateful to have found a space in which I am no longer asked why, but still find it shocking because mine is a sporadic and not very present online presence…
Regardless, during this weird year of confinement and armchair adventures, I thought I would share ten of the things necessary for maintaining my spooky endeavours, which I hope you can apply to whatever it is you’re nerdy about online.
1. A Sincere Passion
Mine was born on the bathroom floor at the age of seven.
I grew up in a house that had books in every room. Amongst the clothbound volumes on the bathroom shelves was a collection of short stories. And amongst their number was Edgar Allan Poe with ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’. I devoured most of the books on most of the shelves, but that moment with that story in that unlikely room was what can only be described as ‘formative’.
Just as gardening cannot be done without getting muddy, writing, for me, cannot be done without getting inky.
I find greater freedom in writing by hand ‒ that I cannot truly write without pen and ink. If you follow my posts closely, you will spot strong suggestions of my ecological beliefs. It should, therefore, be no surprise that I favour an ink pen that is refilled over and over again, without waste. Mine is very dear to me ‒ it was a graduation gift that I intend to collaborate with for the rest of my life.
I am sure that there are ways of refilling the cartridge without pouring ink into my pores, but I don’t think I want to know them…
3. So Many Papers
With inky fingers come papers… so many papers. Bound in books, and loose, ripped, recycled, and lost, and rediscovered in pockets once long forgotten.
I know that hoarding paper isn’t the most eco-friendly practice, but like inky fingers there is something in the physical, the tangible, that I cannot turn my back on.
Do you remember assessments in primary school to determine ‘what kind of learner’ you were? I am a note-taker. I don’t know that that’s even one of the options. I also don’t know that it works… but that’s what I am. And those notes are the seeds that develop into my blog posts, so I take it back; be a note-taker ‒ it does work, because it is the work. Or part of it, anyway.
4. An Internet Connection… Albeit a Terrible One Right Now
This post is consciously not about the whole Voldermorty (You-Know-What, or That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named) state of affairs, but I would like to ask just one related question.
The internet has undoubtedly been an invaluable tool in innumerable ways during this time, but has anyone else been surprised at how it’s struggled to cope with the increased traffic? Maybe it’s just the service offered by They-Who-I-Really-Want-To-Name-(and-shame-)But-Won’t…
Anyway, the internet, though fatigued at present, is obviously a spooky nerd essential. There were already so many incredible resources, and now an influx of services have digitised or temporarily waived fees, which is as exciting as it is overwhelming. Go forth and discover!
5. Open Eyes
Whilst memory is not a strong point of mine, I do have a spongey constitution.
Perhaps it’s an individual thing, but once I began to look for it however long ago, manifestations of the gothic in life around me became delightfully inescapable. Whatever it is that I am researching, reading, or writing about at any given time, I will find echoed in likely, and very unlikely, places. I suppose this synchronicity relates to passion. If you find what you love, you will seek it. Once it takes root, you will encourage it to grow wild, as I do.
Though the world of natural and human invention is ripe with inspiration, it is undeniably more so in certain corners than others.
Just as the great poets and painters sought intellectual salons, country retreats, and dimly lit cafés, I find that connecting with the existing work of the world positively impacts my own output.
Personally, I have a soft spot for museums, galleries, and historical homes. I know I said I wouldn’t mention it again, but one of the greatest things to come out of the pandemic is level access to the arts. I honestly cannot say whether theatres, performers, workers, establishments, etc., are being supported sufficiently by governments and public donations, but I can say that I am hugely grateful for the resulting geographical and financial equality afforded to their expanding audiences.
7. Human Inspiration
Once again making an example of historical creatives, we know that, whilst many succeeded in isolation, with community as muse, art proliferates.
Through Instagram, I have found myself surrounded by a collection of companions with whom I can share and from whom I can learn about all sorts of interesting things that spark endless inspiration.
I remain open about the fact that I would be doing what I do whether anyone was listening or not. And, whilst it’s true that I began by whispering into the silent void, it would be entirely dishonest to discredit the impact that community has had on Generally Gothic. A discussion, rather than a lecture, allows for everyone to grow and, having just this year learnt that I am 3 inches shorter than I had previously believed myself to be, that sounds pretty appealing to me…
…for I am human, and I need fuel. I can write without tea, coffee, and cake, but I’d rather not. It really is that simple.
9. Libraries
As you may have gathered, I feel very passionately about access to information and equality in education. I believe in books, and I believe in trees.
I am soon moving from the place that I have called home for the past 2 years. Amongst an assortment of wonderful organic things, such as people and landscapes, one of my favourite foreign discoveries has been the local network of Little Free Libraries. (Take a book, give a book whether back or forward.)
I vouch to build one of my own when I am a home-owner, but until then, I aim to share books online. I am currently giving away 2 vintage Daphne du Maurier hardbacks that I purchased from one of my favourite, virtual second-hand book shops. It is an ongoing attempt at practising what I have always vaguely known to be true: that books need people as much as people need books. And that I can exist without hoarding them all… particularly when my luggage allowance is limited.
I have scattered a selection of my library back around the Little Free Libraries I frequented. If you ever find a novel with a Generally Gothic stamp inside, let me know! I’d love to see how far they travel.
I have a really strict schedule of expectations, and also a whole load of other commitments that are as demanding as they are unavoidable.
I have found that when I choose to cut a bigger slice of cake, take a break with a book, and shrug it off if I miss my self-imposed deadline for another formless week in a row, I create better.
My little sister has done an admirable job with keeping a “plague diary” over the course of the last X number of days (yikes, has it really been that long?) I wish I had that same dedication and fortitude and the …motivation, I guess, to summon thoughts and what to say about them, but I guess I don’t. So much of this time right now feels exactly like the life I was leading up until this crisis, and it seems…profoundly uncool to talk about how much my life has not changed. Still working from home. Still a homebody. Still relieved when it comes to canceled plans. Still living in my own little world.
My fears and anxieties come not from concern for my own safety or worries about my continued financial stability (although quite frankly I am not sure how or why I am still employed) but rather…sympathy pains, I suppose you could say, for my friends and family and the rest of the world. I’ve internalized so much of the collective chaos and I am sad and stressed and scared; this article says it has something to do with “allotastic load” and this article says that the discomfort I am feeling is grief. From whichever perspective I look at it, man, I am drained. And I can’t even believe I am saying this…I have now officially spent too much time at home.
Last month I was to have visited (and met in person for the first time) a dear friend in the midwest; this past weekend I was supposed to meet up with my sisters to celebrate one of their birthdays; typically we visit Y’s parents every month or so, we go into Orlando for a weekend, we have a few dinners out during the week, and not to mention the absence of grocery shopping and hair appointments! But. Nobody’s going nowhere and there’s nothing to be done about it and that is all for the best.
As far as all of this time we supposedly have on our hands now. I’ve got the same amount of time as I’ve always got. It just feels different. It simultaneously feels like swimming in jelly or running in slow-motion as though in a dream, except there’s this dreadful urgency there, because, although I am still feeling foggy and slow and drained, I am expected to work my same 8:30-5:30 (or sometimes 6:00 or 6:30 every day.) I feel like I’m both in this liminal, holding pattern place–sort of like how it feels here, in FL, right before hurricane hits–and I am in real-life, where things are needed and expected of me, and it’s taking a superhuman effort be in both places at once.
I also should note I have been trying to write this blog post since the beginning of April. Ugh. Is there any point to finishing it and posting it now? I think there is. Even if it feels like life is at a standstill…it’s not. It’s not on pause. It’s still happening and unfolding every day, and I guess I’d like a record, of sorts.
Instead of the travels I had planned, then, let me tell you about my culinary explorations. I made biscuits for the first time, ever! I made my first-ever chocolate cake from scratch (it looked horrible, but it was delicious–and I don’t even like cake!) I ground my own spices and made Masala chai; I made a vegan caesar salad dressing and vegan jerky; I made what I am calling a “savory fruit salad” in an attempt to salvage a few tomatoes and an avocado that were just past their prime.
Which is to say: combine diced and ripened tomato and avocado, a bright green funky flurry of chopped scallions, a nutty slick of sesame oil, a tangy dribble of rice wine vinegar, and several enthusiastic shakes of aromatic shiso furikake. It may look like a glunky pile of unpleasantness, but holy Japanese guacamole, was it incredible.
…and have I shared sweater journeys with you? I haven’t knit a sweater in years and years, and the reason for this is because they require more precise measurements than I care to deal with; socks and shawls don’t really have the same fit issues that sweaters do, so I’d prefer the fiddliness of tiny stitches and complicated lace to the prospect of a sweater that’s going to end up being the size of that tent that the Weasley family travels with for Quidditch matches.
However! I was gifted with a sweater pattern book for the holidays, and I thought “well, hey, now that I am living in the semi-tropical climate of Florida again, it sure seems like a great time to knit up some heavy woolen sweaters!” When the imp of the perverse calls to me, I must obey. And so I did.
And do you know what? Now that I’ve got another decade of knitting under my belt, these things actually fit!
From the top photo down is the Sashiko sweater by Mona Zillah, the Emerge sweater by Andrea Cull, and the work in progress at the very bottom is the Carlina pullover by Whitney Hayward.
Other things I have done while self-isolating and social distancing over the past few months:
Last week I left the house and drove my car for the first time since mid-March. I went to the dentist for a tooth-cleaning. It was both scary and underwhelming. I’m ready for more normal, stupid activities like this, but at the same time, I’m almost certain we’re collectively not ready for this at all. I guess we’ll see. A dental visit and an expression of depressing uncertainty is a bummer of a way to end this missive, and pretty anticlimactic to boot, but that’s all she wrote, I’m afraid.
This week on the YouTubes I am taking a page from the book of friend and fellow writer Lucinda Rose, whose weekly Writer’s Log updates I very much enjoy. This sort of update will not be a regular occurrence, but I thought it might be a good exercise to share what I’ve been up to with my writing, what issues and concerns I have had in the process, and what I’m looking forward to now that I conquered what I hope is a final deadline, wooooo!
Anything I’ve mentioned in this video that you might be curious about, people, books, etc., I have linked to below! I include this for friends who don’t like watching videos or who might get an awful, visceral fremdschämen reaction to watching a recording of one of your friends talking. Trust me. I get it. If anyone wants to peek in on my YouTube otherworlds, it is much appreciated, but I promise my feelings are not hurt if that’s not your bag.
My little sister has done an admirable job with keeping a “
…and have I shared sweater journeys with you? I haven’t knit a sweater in years and years, and the reason for this is because they require more precise measurements than I care to deal with; socks and shawls don’t really have the same fit issues that sweaters do, so I’d prefer the fiddliness of tiny stitches and complicated lace to the prospect of a sweater that’s going to end up being the size of that tent that the Weasley family travels with for Quidditch matches.
