Thursday, November 12, 2009

Guiding Light

Much inspired by (IN)DECOROUS TASTE and her FABULOUS crystal encrusted table (the one everyone must see this exact moment…) we had the overwhelming urge (although this was IN NO WAY advocated in her post) to run around the neighborhood draped in nothing but stands of chandelier crystals. Now before the blessed (?) event could take place we came to our senses (??) and realized it is November in Seattle (and hypothermia be damned) the constant rain was going to cut down the spectators to our spectacle…ouch…someday you will see us on the news in some interior décor related act of anarchy. Do not say that you were not warned…

We will be the first to admit that we have some serious issues regarding lighting fixtures and their proper use and function. One will not find a traditional silk shade in attractive (as in putrid) shade of beige anywhere in our studio. Instead you will discover a singular and wonderful Art Nouveau table lamp with a stunning glass shade (a cherished antique that belonged to Seraph’s grandparents and then to his parents before making its way to our eccentric Obsidian Halls.) In a desperate cry for attention this lovely lamp has taken to spitting sparks and breaking bulbs thus becoming the latest (in a long list) of inanimate object disrupting the tranquility our lives…HA!

Along with the unruly heirloom we have a growing collection of pierced brass lanterns. Several have elaborate arabesque domes and dangle from spindly chains while others are adorned with beaded fringe and studded with mirrors. And there is one of course that looks as if it is from a Spanish dungeon (an erotic one that is…) Slowly most of the incandescent lights have been replaced with red bulbs giving an infernal glow that would make the Dark One feel right at home and forces our guests to stumble through dimly lit corridors just to find the powder room. (Did we mention that our relatives have stopped visiting us…hmm…?)

Speaking of unwelcome guests, the lighting fixtures that are installed in our apartment are new and from IKEA. Never has there been an uglier assemblage of track lighting, vanity bulbs and odd UFO inspired ceiling fixtures in the existence of mankind. We kid you not. Fearing an alien abduction or an unwanted interplanetary rift appearing in our parlor ceiling we finally broke down and hired an electrician to replace the offending fixture with a vintage chandelier. OK, “hired” is a strong word, actually we just gave the man that wanders around here doing maintenance $20 to put the thing out of its misery and return its body to the aliens. And for those keeping track at home this was NOT the same guy that came by to fix our drippy faucet, crawled under our kitchen cabinet and never came back out. The current theory (OK, the one we just made up on the spot) is that he was devoured by rats or is under there still living on crumbs from our under sink recycling bin …

Now the odd twist of this tale is the fore mentioned chandelier turned out to be the ORIGINAL FIXTURE (!!!) that was cruelly ripped from its proper home and discarded in the garage amid a pile of equally unloved cardboard boxes and delinquent patio furniture. Now it seems that over the month of unwilling exile all of its crystals were slowing taken by various vagrants and miscreant that lurk in the subterranean depths beneath our building. Needless to say by the time we rescued it needed both physical and emotional refurbishment. But after a little TLC and a dozen or so pounds of crystal shards, spikes and garland it once again illuminates our parlor…Tell us, dear readers, what illuminates you?

Black Sun Ascends. Forevermore.
Granted to the elected is the key to Chaos core.
Judge me now oh shining one, by blood and fire.
To wield thy sword, oh Lord and Master.
The eleventh and the first.
Whose wordless word echoes Chaos!

(“Legions of the Black Light” by Watain)

Friday, November 6, 2009

Art Department Part I

Now seriously folks, we have a Rembrandt hanging right next to a gigantic Brueghel (the elder, no less) along with an assortment of dark and dreary 17th century Dutch florals adorning our front parlor. And no, we have not won the lottery or have been caught drinking too much absinthe again… (although our garbage disposal…er, excuse us, our    “IN-SINK-ERATOR” as it demands to be called is starting to sound like the Beherit album “The Oath of Black Blood”…) But that is a problem for another day…No, our parlor is full of vintage reproductions. This is due to various factors including budget, questionable good taste and a perverse design aesthetic. Do not get us wrong, they are truly quite lovely clad in their crumbly gilded frames and the fact that they are grimy and smoke damaged only adds to their old world charm. And they look quiet authentic if viewed by candlelight and slightly inebriated…and in denial of reality…

Now if things were as they should be and we could pillage the museums of the world at will, our walls would be drenched in the finest of art. A great shrine to the beauty and mystery great art evokes. Now to avoid the consequence of a Thomas Crown Affair style incident here at Chintz of Darkness (we simply do not have the time…) we must appreciate our beloved artists from afar. This has perhaps been our excuse to begin to fill our studio with our own works. We personally draw much inspiration from the darker paths of art, especially works that transcend modern culture and instead focus aspects of mythology and the occult that still touch our everyday lives. We continue to work on our series of infernal beasts for Seraph’s Blood Etching project. Recently completed is the upper helm to our Beloved Prince sculpture. More to come on that soon…

The foreground to this post is the haunting and otherworldly paintings of Jørgen Boberg that were featured in Avant Garde magazine in May 1970. These works by the self taught Danish artist are truly remarkable. The series of images portray the enigmatic Teresa (perhaps inspired by wicked version of Teresa of Avila, a 16th century mystic.) The paintings are both sensual and disorientating, ethereal landscapes under skies of dread. Foreboding and mystery abound. Teresa is depicted as if her very body and soul have been dissected for a lavish and disturbing look into her being. Within her we see her dreams and nightmares intermingle with concepts of death and rebirth…Take a moment to contemplate these works if you will, dear readers…

Jørgen Boberg

Impersonal Whirling Cynical Hate
Abrupt Irritation Morphed (into) Anger
Pounding Exploding Ravishing Grimness
Genes Drenched in Ferocious Wrath

Chronic Deviant Mood Reactions
Vindictive Instincts greeted with Glee
Completely Born and Built to Loathe
A Dreary Hell's in Store of Me

(“Ravishing Grimness” by Darkthrone)
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