Sous-Marin. The Fallen Angel graciously glides over his treasures. Those beautiful, lustful bodies that are able to freely enjoy themselves. No feelings of guilt, no remorse but pure Evil: to go beyond petty morals. The transgression of the Law is exactly that which sweetens the Sin. Colours of gold surround the Last Men and Women, and in the background one can see an air of absinthe as if this painting wanted to be a beacon of inspiration.
The Symbolist painter Jean Delville has truly been able to create an exquisite picture of Hell, the stage of the Nigredo where our damned souls reside and find infinite pleasure in the Prima Materia. The painting radiates no suffering only surreal Beauty and a passionate energy.
I created this drawing of the Acephalic years ago for the cover of one of This Morn’ Omina’s singles. Of course, I was inspired by the logo of Bataille’s Acéphale, and I wanted to create another, more organic and less human version. This headless being could be human or it could be an animal or a plant … it should not be that specific for these are all but versions of the incessant flow of Base Matter through a heterogenous continuity. According to Bataille, and I agree with him, there is a profound unity between all beings and things. Like Heraclite and Nietzsche the French mystic recognized an incessant flow of things. Nothing is stable, everything is becoming. We are energy. The circle around the figure symbolizes this eternal becoming and the figure itself is quite abstract but because of the curved lines I wanted to imply a sense of movement, change. The Ouroboros is its alchemical symbol. “Life itself is movement and nothing in this movement is protected against movement”, Bataille writes in his book Eroticism. Therefor no head because thinking, our ratio tries to stop this movement, this flow in order to grasp it, study it. But this is but an illusion. My drawing could be a print, a fossil which the human animal would yearn to comprehend in order to give it a name, a function… But this is such a futile quest and I can only laugh about it.
A Slave hangs bleeding in the abysmal deep. Listen carefully to this Slave as he expresses his darkest phantasms deleriously:
“He never deemed me worthy of his sickening presence despite the frantic efforts that I made when I was younger. notwithstanding the countless nighttime rituals I performed He always seemed to reject me, while I had read about sorcerers being able to summon Him. I always imagined that this sinister evocation would unleash a blast of dark energies. How else could one imagine this for He represents a multitude of forces that have been developing through the aeons.
Such a force, which cannot be signified, would never present itself good-naturedly or gently, but would erupt violently like a volcano. A most sublime spectacle which does not strengthen the ego but would destroy it. I would expect to be surrounded by a darkening gunge of bad smelling incense that, just like a snake does, coils around me as if there were numerous tentacles that explore my body; a sense which is erotically stimulating, but at the same time I would become aware of the smell of blood. The tentacles that caress my body have minuscule barbs scraping my skin. Masochistically I’d endure the Pain as deep inside my desires come to the surface: a craving for Pain and Death, to be subjected to His Will and to be crushed like an insect, but also a desire for Pleasure, an extra-human joy that, if only temporarily, liberates me from my wretched existence. Liberate me! Lord, why hast thou forsaken me.”
Von S, 127yf