Dr. Jürgen Otto‘s footage of the courtship and mating behaviour of the Australian peacock spider Maratus volans.

✸ I’ve been getting really excited about Triboluminescence lately. Such a strange phenomenon!

✸ 5-10-15-20: Antony – I loved this article from Antony where he talks about his musical influences.
Christian Death, Marc and the Mambas, Nina Simone and Selda! Inspiring as always.

✸ Lakshmi Bai – the Rani (queen) of Jhansi
freedom-fighting warrior heroine from On This Deity

St Clemens, Church of Sts Peter and Paul, Rott-am-Inn, Germany – photo by Paul Koudoun­aris

✸ A wonderful article about the The amazing jeweled skeletons of Europe from Fortean Times

✸ Caddis fly larvae are known to incorporate bits of whatever they can find into their cocoons,
be it fish bone or bits of leaves. Hubert Duprat gave them gold, turquoise, gems and pearls.

“Since the early 1980s, artist Hubert Duprat has been utilizing insects to construct some of his “sculptures.”
By removing caddis fly larvae from their natural habitat and providing them with precious materials, he
prompts them to manufacture cases that resemble jewelers’ creations. Information theory, as explained by
biologists such as Jacques Monod and Henri Atlan, helps us understand what seems to be the insect’s aesthetic
behavior. The activities of the caddis worm, as manipulated by Hubert Duprat, are prompted by the “noise”—
beads, pearls and 18-karat gold pieces — introduced by the artist into the insect’s environment.”

✸

Victorian-Era Dress, Made With 1,000 Beetle Wings, Restored for £50,000
This is my dress. I need it back! Can someone go tell them?

✸ I’ve been meaning to moon about my love for the Kenzo Spring/Summer 2011 show for ages –
of course it’s right up my alley with the combination of hyper-saturated, rich color, exciting prints,
delicate silks and loads of intricate details. I go crazy for anything resembling an ethnic costume,
and this show was a mish-mash of Russian doll, Peruvian shepherdess and Japanese geisha. Heavenly.

It starts out a little dull, but watch and wait for the gorgeous and perfect grand finale. J’ADORE!

✸ The Orchid Mantis (Hymenopus coronatus) is called so, because it mimics orchid flowers.
They are usually white, but some of them grow little tints of pink over time. They live in papaya trees,
orchids and blossoming frangipani trees in Malaysia, Indonesia & Sumatra.

✸ When everything flies away, the outline of the heart goes black
Hans Christian Andersen’s illustrated “stamp books” from 50Watts

✸ What is Peter Falk Doing in Wings of Desire ?
Oh darling man, you will be missed! I used to watch Columbo and eat dried mangos with a couple of macaws every afternoon.

✸ The Paper Cuts of Chad Merritt featured in Hi-Fructose
Hooray for Chadling! I love that we will be living in the same town very soon!

✸ Norman’s Ghost Hole via Coilhouse
I love this. A lot.

That what I’ve got for right now! Send any bits of excitement + enchantment my way, won’t you?

Everywhere, wood violets congregate prettily, in purple and white flounces,
casting their winking National Velvet gazes dirt-ward, mischievous smiles
playing at the prim corners of their tiny petal faces. They look like my sister.
I saw a pair of little fox kits in the woods, and they looked like us when we
were small, and red-headed. They wore black stockings and curious faces.
I had never seen such a thing, and it moved me beyond words. Kindred.

You are brief and frail and blue-
Little sisters, I am, too.
You are Heaven’s masterpieces-
Little loves, the likeness ceases.
– Dorothy Parker

We stayed in a marvelous wooden lodge on Stone Lake,
and caroused with family, and drank lots of champagne.
Parties of morel-hunters combed the woods, and brought
back a bounty to be fried up. Fresh asparagus, artichokes,
and strawberry-rhubarb pie. Butter on black bread as dark
as turned earth. This is the way we were born to eat – like
wise peasants who know where to find all the best mushrooms.

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania some time of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight:
And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
– William Shakespeare

Who hath despised the day of small things?
As violets so be I recluse and sweet,
Cheerful as daisies unaccounted rare,
Still sunward-gazing from a lowly seat,
Still sweetening wintry air.
While half-awakened Spring lags incomplete,
While lofty forest trees tower bleak and bare,
Daisies and violets own remotest heat
And bloom and make them fair.
– Christina Rosetti

This little town once made these majestic woodstoves – modern hearths,
designed to sustain a family throughout a long and bitter Michigan winter.
The factory that made this vessel of iron made to hold fire, so carefully ornate,
is now a buckled ruin. A fascinating, haunted place near the train-station,
where I found this beauty. The train rushed by so fast it stopped my heart.
It only stops here twice a day now, though the station is the handsomest
I have ever seen. I envy the woman who works there, in her immaculately
preserved office with elegant bay windows, old wood, tea and the radio on.
I could hear in her voice a deep contentment with her work. She is framed
behind glass at all times, sacrosanct. Her face is dark and gentle. Kind.

The reason for our journey was to celebrate Colin’s grandfather’s 88th birthday.
Jack + Betty, in love for all these years, the two trees which have borne so much
fruit. We watched old home movies of them, standing in fields, gathered at the
old homestead, kissing deeply when they thought no one was watching, laughing,
flickering there – young and large as life for an instant, and then gone. Play it again.
At the big family dinner (which was a mostly hilarious disaster of epic proportions),
I was coaxed into singing Sweet Violets in front of the massive Biek clan, which I did.
Not well, without considering the complicated lyrics, and without the benefit of any
liquid courage to bolster me, but nonetheless I sang, hands shaking – with Marge
and Paul backing me up on Casio keyboards. I would do anything for Betty, my
beloved soon-to-be grandmother in-law. It made her so happy, she even got up
and sang it with me. It is our song, after all… Have you ever heard it? It’s catchy!

Sweet Violets
Sweeter than the roses
Covered all over from head to toe
Covered all over with sweet violets

✸ An Interview With Roxanne Carter by David Hoenigman from Word Riot
I have long admired Roxanne’s work from afar, and this one question interview
only solidifies the notion I have of what an excellent person she is. One day, I hope we shall meet, and have tea!

✸ I’m joining the throngs of devotees who (j’)adore the majestic Catherine Baba!
I don’t have very many living fashion icons, so I’m very happy to have found one to inspire me constantly. What a wonderful woman!
Gala Darling put together a super piece on her for her Style Icons series

✸ Casting Our Favorite Books: The Secret History
Casting characters from beloved books is one of my favorite fantasy games, and I’ve long imagined who I would cast in a film version
of The Secret History. I don’t disagree with most of the picks in the article, though I do think Cillian Murphy is far too pretty and delicate
to be Henry Winter. They needed Nick Cave for that, about 30 years ago. Oh, how I wish they would just finally hurry up and make it, though!

Julie Heffernan, Budding Boy

✸ Q and A: John Seed Interviews Julie Heffernan
“In ‘Self-Portrait Setting Up Camp’ I’m imagining re-making the world where the only people who exist are the Builders,
the Buriers, the Mothers, the Healers, the Story-tellers, the Fishers, the Dreamers and the Growers. The trees are bedecked
with billboard size copies of paintings that have given me wisdom in my life. Others are there for protection from the sun.
The space is constructed as a gigantic spiral. As we end we begin again.”

✸ In Remembrance: Kenneth Grant (1924-2011) from Coilhouse

✸ Show The Monster Guillermo del Toro’s quest to get amazing creatures onscreen –
a fascinating piece on one of my favorite auteurs from the New Yorker.

✸ 8 Beautiful Bioluminescent Creatures From the Sea

✸ At the Core of Traditional Witchcraft from Speculum Celestae

Natural Dark by Lindsey Carr

✸ Carnivorous Plant Feasts on Bat Dung

✸ Fuck Yeah Altars – This is just wonderful. I was very happy to find one of my own included among the beautiful altars there!

Portrait of Madeline von Foerster: An interview with the New York based artist about “The Red Thread” –
the key painting of her 2010 solo show “Reliquaries” at Strychnin Gallery, Berlin. Von Foerster works in “mischtechnik,”
a mixed technique of oil and egg tempera used by the Flemish Renaissance Masters. Her current series is concerned
with endangered/extinct wildlife, and also inspired by the reliquaries of the Ursula church in Cologne, Germany.

✸ Swan on Swan – Black Swan’s Sexy Tropes from the ever enchanting Jiz Lee

✸ Interview with a Female Funeral Director By Susannah Breslin I really need to meet both these women.

✸ The Pale Blue Door, Prinzessinnen Garten, Berlin. Pictures by Manuel Vazquez (Thank you for this, Mlle. Verhext!)

✸ Trouvelot Astronomy from BiblioOdyssey
(Thanks for the tip go to Miss Patience Meliora Blythe – her real name, folks!)

“Frenchman Étienne Léopold Trouvelot (1827–1895) was primarily a portrait artist when he arrived in Massachusetts in 1852.
During the following 30 years that he remained in America his amateur passion for science would ensure a legacy that straddles
both fame and infamy. Trouvelot had a particular love for silkworms and he had a 4 acre plot behind his house where he cultivated
a native variety. To increase production he hoped to crossbreed the regular type with a species from Europe. He brought back Gypsy
Moth eggs from a trip home and so introduced a virulent pest that ravages forests in America to this day. To his (slight) credit, he realized
the enormity of the problem straight away when some of the introduced moths escaped. He made it publically known, but unfortunately local
entomologists did nothing at the time to eradicate them. Trouvelot turned his attention from moths to the stars and began illustrating celestial
phenomena. His drawings were so good that the Director of Harvard College Observatory put Trouvelot on staff where he gained access
to their powerful telescope.”

Back in September, when I was visiting San Francisco, I had the opportunity to experience
a very magical place, high up in the green hills of Inverness: The J.B. Blunk Residency, which
is sort of a secluded zen fairy cabin-haven for craftsfolk and artists, and all sorts of interesting
people. We had the luck to be there for a delightful evening barbeque, and a tour of the house
and grounds from J.B. Blunk’s lovely and charming daughter, Miss Mariah Nielsen.
She is deer-like and top-knotted, and has that “effortlessly elegant” thing down pat in sandals
and a abstract print silk shift. She grew up there, wild and rambling among the pines and white
breakers of Inverness, in that magical house filled with good reading, and the coziest nooks.
She has made it her mission to preserve her father’s legacy, and honor his wish to share his
home with artists, so that it might serve as muse. Just visiting there flooded me with inspiration,
so I imagine a two-month residency would be an incredible opportunity to make new work,
undisturbed by noise or distraction. Any of you artists who have or are pursuing an MA or MFA,
might want to look into applying – it’s a magical place, that engenders magical work.

“The J.B. Blunk Residency offers a home, studio and outdoor clearings for work.
The home and studio, built by J.B. Blunk in 1959, with salvaged materials, suggest
a certain lifestyle that is independent, sustainable and closely connected to the landscape.
Because of J.B.’s profound connection to the surrounding environment the hope
is that the residency program will foster work inspired by the site.”

The view of Bishop Pine Nature Preserve in Inverness, California.
This is what you see from the bedroom window. Can you imagine
waking up to that every morning? It is just unbelievably perfect.

J.B. (James Blain) Blunk, 1926 – 2002

“I began making wood sculpture in 1962.
I knew how to use a chain saw and it was
one of those things. One day you just start.”
— J.B. Blunk

“Since he had no training in joinery and owned few tools, Blunk carved his furniture from oversized
pieces of redwood and cypress with a chainsaw, finishing them with an angular grinder and chisel.
His interest in texturing the wood, rather than polishing it to a high sheen, may have had it’s roots
in the rough, complex stoneware surfaces typical of the Bizen ware Blunk made in Japan.”
- Glenn Adamson

There are stone collections and cairns everywhere you look. Rocks with power, natural sculptures.

“It is hard to know where to place Blunk as a craftsman. Though he has achieved his primary success
as a woodworker, he has also created an extensive body of work in clay, carved stone and cast bronze
and has even made jewelry and weavings. Furthermore, he tends to blur the categories of furniture and
non-functional sculpture as if they weren’t there.”
- Glenn Adamson

The light pulls are all these clever little sculptures that you tug on to turn on or off. Form and function,
and art as everyday useful objects. He infused his aesthetic and sense of humor into everything around him.

It’s there in the bathroom sink, in every aspect of the architecture of his home. Seamless, and somehow – holy.

It’s that tongue-in-cheek playfulness that peeks out at you from shadowy corners. Woodcarving is rough – an earth art,
and it’s no surprise that you see raw sexuality there. It reminds me of African carvings, sacred renditions of genitalia,
our origin points. Also, of the fun Shinto emblems of giant phalluses and other parts – those aspects of life that are
everyday, but mysterious. It’s a good juxtaposition to find next to the somber zen stillness, those earthy curved forms.

Mark Dion and Mariah, contemplating the view.

Mariah, Dana and a blue ghost.

Everywhere on the sides of the road up there, you see these slim pink lilies called “Naked Ladies”.

A house-elf sea-goblin hanging around in the workshop.

J.B. Blunk exhibition at Blum + Poe

Fecal Face – N&P: Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill

Full set of my photos are up on Flickr here: J.B. Blunk Residency

From the Ephemerata site:
This Museum exhibition is an earthquake that rends the ground to expose the UNDERGROUND.
A hole opens up, and we are walking down into the damp dark unknown. Descend into our show-cave
through normally hidden strata! Beneath our city is a crowded metropolis of graves, pipes, cables, tunnels,
sewers, and landfills, and as we travel down past the aquifer, a glowing lake of magma! The mysterious
corridors of our subterranean journey branch off into political undergrounds, the subconscious, and the
Underworld — lair of monsters, land of the dead. By spelunking through these passages, we come to learn
that humans are strange creatures like earthworms, ceaselessly dedicated to the circulation of vast undergrounds!
The earthquake of industrialized humans has reversed the strata of land and sky such that what was underground
has become our atmosphere. Please watch your head for low-hanging rocks.

The Museum is open Thursdays (4-7pm) and Saturdays (1-4pm).
We are also open for appointments — call 320-0566
or email mnae@mnae.org for availability.
$4 suggested donation

Beware the wasps at the entrance! Behold their marvelous architecture!

A panoply of stone gnomes are there to greet you when you arrive. I think they might bite.

A new addition to the Ephemerata family has been created this year: baby Kai, who is a player piano virtuoso!
We loaned them the piano a while back for their Wondrous Instruments show, and they’ve very kindly kept it
for us. I fear we’re going to have to figure out what to do with it soon! In keeping with the them for the show,
it plays “There’s a Goldmine in the Sky” – “Take your old time mule / I know you’re growing lame /
You’ll pasture in the stars / When we make that claim” Sad songs for desperate miners!

Enter the crystal cavern – but watch out for the troglodytes!

Some excellent mineral specimens – including the “dubious minerals” – Pyrite, Citrine, and Chrysocolla.

Some Civil War relics, old bones and blood-stained dice. Flotsam buried in ancient battlefields.

We also lent a Tailless whip scorpions from our collection, though I have no photo of the actual article,
the beautifully done guidebook illustrates the beastie. I’m not disturbed by spiders at all, but these guys
are actually quite horrifying to behold! They are extremely intelligent, and have developed brain stems.

The plastic descendent of stereoscopic viewers – a 3-D viewmaster depicting Carlsbad Caverns

In the Impermanent Collection you can view this death-defying feat rendered in ceramic!

Ephemerata Gardens out back are lush and overgrown with sunflowers and fig-trees. A bunny lives there.

As well as some very impressive spiders! Arachnophobes, I apologize for the spider-surplus:
they just seem to keep popping up everywhere I look, and I’ve always seen them as very good omens.

I want to go here very badly! I love caves and their beautiful stone formations so much.
We are lucky to have some really excellent ones here in Texas. Imagine how many are
undiscovered, or on private property? It’s our fantasy to have a subterranean nightclub
one day. We have dreams of excavating under our house and digging down. Oddly enough,
a guy in our neighborhood did just that – this 70 year old man dug 30 feet down below
his house, by hand! Just brought out buckets of dirt, one by one until he had created
three underground levels! Pretty impressive. Now the City is filling it all up with concrete.

“The magnificent underground cave system traditionally called Reed Flute Cave
and known today as the Palace of Natural Art lies beneath the city of Guilin, China,
and is over 750 feet (240 meters) long. The first recorded visits to the cave took place
over 1,000 years ago during China’s Tang Dynasty. Artificial lighting is used to enhance
the stunning rock formations in the cave, which has been officially open for visitors since
1962. One of the largest parts of the cave system is the Crystal Palace of the Dragon King,
which can hold up to 1,000 people and was used as an air raid shelter during World War II.
The grotto features a solitary stalagmite that resembles a human being –
it’s said that a visiting poet attempted to write about the beauty that
greeted his eyes but took so long to find the right words he turned to stone.”

The full set of photos from our Underground tour are up on Flickr: have a look…

✸ Exciting news! The latest issue of Coilhouse is out now:
Coilhouse 05: Let All The Children Boogie is the juiciest, most glam-tastic issue yet,
and I am proud to have a piece on The Last Days of Gadjo Disko
included in those glossy pages! Grab one quick, because the sell
out fast – you can buy online, or at most decent booksellers.

For your daily dose of wonder, I highly recommend developing an
addiction to the blog as well – there’s just so much goodness there!
For the last few months, my life had become almost unmanageably
busy – to the point where I no longer had any time to read all my
favorite blogs. Now that things are a little calmer, I’ve been making
time to go back through some of the great articles I missed, and
was especially taken with these gems. Deliciousness, ahoy:

✸ The Anthropomorphic Glamour of Antoine Helbert

✸ A Decadent Parade of Outrageous Fancies: Alastair

✸ Rachel Brice: Serpentine

✸ Alt/1977: WE ARE NOT TIME TRAVELERS by Alex Varanese
I love this set of re-imagined mp3 players and cell-phones designed
and advertised as it they had been invented in 1977. Reminds me
of the tantalizing technology I used to gaze longingly at in my uncle’s
OMNI magazines! I miss OMNI, man! I’d love to look at some old issues.
Happily, the folks at BoingBoing read my mind! There’s a great post
up with links to some of my favorite covers and more. Too good.
Memories of Omni magazine

✸ I ♡ LadyFag!
StyleLikeU has a great tour of her closet and boudoir.
I think she’s divine, and I’d like to comb her armpit hair
with a painted bone comb and then raid her wardrobe.

✸ Latest booklust and fascination: Hugh Raffles’s “Insectopedia”
He’s an anthropologist who’s exploring our relationships with
the insect world. I have a feeling that reading about his work
might really help me with the revulsion and panic I feel at times
when confronted with particularly nasty bugs. Namely the giant
“palmetto bug” cockroaches that we have down South. They fly.
I am fascinated and delighted by all sorts of other bugs, but there
are some that just make me act like a shrieking child! It’s so silly.
I have a good friend who is an entomologist, and I could pick his
brain for hours about the complex worlds of these creatures.
I love this excerpt from the Times article:
“Insects are all around us. They are the most numerous animals on earth,
yet we pay them scant attention. Few of us attend to their innate beauty.
More often than not, they are seen as pests sent to plague us
(with the notable exception of the now threatened honey bee).
‘We simply cannot find ourselves in these creatures,’ Raffles writes.
‘The more we look, the less we know. They are not like us.
They do not respond to acts of love or mercy or remorse.
It is worse than indifference. It is a deep, dead space
without reciprocity, recognition or redemption.’
[....] Raffles’s entry on “queer” insect sex is more life-affirming,
and comic, sparked off by an image of a butterfly probing the
anus of a rove beetle, ‘just two little animals enjoying a little action . . .
and feeling pretty good about it,’ as Raffles writes, exhorting,
‘We need more queerness!’”
There’s also a great interview with Hugh Raffles here

✸ I recently fell in love with the Texas Invasive Species
website. It’s so well-designed and informative! Yes, I am
aware of my intense dorkness. Honestly, though – it’s so rad.
I mean: Emerald Ash Borers, Raspberry Crazy Ants, Tropical
Soda Apples (which are listed as a Federal Noxious Weed!)
I could spend hours poring over plants and bugs that don’t belong.

✸ Scouting New York is the wonderful photo-blog of a location scout
who has a knack for finding the strangest and most amazing places.
Hidden In An Abandoned Orphanage
The Wizard Of Park Ave
Decapitation at the Ziegfeld

✸ I’ve been contemplating a re-design of my studio,
and have been much inspired by Rebecca Kasner’s
tumblr of inspired rooms. So much to drool over there!

✸ It’s been storming like crazy here this week, and we’ve got lots
of interesting neon-yellow mushrooms cropping up everywhere,
but I wish we had glow-in-the-dark mushrooms like the ones that
are appearing in Japan! I bet the kodamas sit on those.

✸ A Journey Round My Skull never ceases to captivate me with obscure prints
and illustrations. Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy is an incredible series
of prints of Chinese opera make-up. They are so fantastic, do go see them all!

Curious, isn’t it? It all seems very much in order with what’s going on
with me lately, though surprisingly more positive than I might’ve
anticipated. I’m glad of it! I’d be interested in any thoughts or
interpretations anyone might have on it. It seems to be a time
of flux, not only for me, but for the world in general. Times like
these, I’ll take any oracles I can get! The trick is to not consult
them compulsively, though it’s hard when you find one that
really resonates with you. Lately, I’ve been really impressed
with the work being done by Barry Perlman, and I have always
loved good old Astrodienst. Got any recommendations for me?

I am in love with our miniature orchard. The puny little peach trees
that have never grown much, are so heavily laden, they bend nearly
to the ground beneath the weight of so much fruit! Our pear trees
and the pomegranate are also getting heavy with deliciousness –
we’re waiting anxiously for them to get ripe enough to eat. This
time we don’t plan on letting them become prey for stinkbugs
or butterflies, either! Dr. Bronner’s in a hose sprayer seems to
be doing the trick so far. We have a peach cobbler in mind!

Our garden also produces fuzzy little peaches with claws,
and lots and lots of problems! Mr. Renfield Bojangles
(pronounced in the Spanish fashion, please) Whiskerwitz,
also known as Tom Tum, was found hiding from the hounds
behind the hated Nandina bushes, skinny as a bundle of rags
and sticks, with a big wormy belly. His face had been
attacked by some vile creature (maybe a possum?),
and his lower lip and chin nearly ripped off! He also
has a terrible case of ear-mites. We cleaned him up,
and he’s been recuperating and is definitely on the
mend. Of course, we’re supposed to be getting him
in better shape so that we can find him a home, but
naturally we’ve gotten very attached to him! I only
ever seem to have orange kitties – all my life, that’s
all I’ve ever had! I also tend to live with people that
have brown tabbies. Those two always end up being
paired, over and over. Anyhow, little Bojangles has
been an incredible source of solace recently – he’s
basically a living motivation poster. He is the kitten
hanging off the branch. “Hang in there!” is his motto,
all the way. I’m a big advocate of kitten or puppy therapy.
It’s pretty hard to be miserable with a cute baby animal
around, and it’s good to have something to take care
of rather than just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.
I’ll try and post regular photos of his progress to boost morale!

Rusty Jacknife wants to devour Bojangles. We’ve decided that Jack isn’t a cat
at all, but rather a minor demon who wears an ill-fitting cat suit and has
decided to keep us company. He doesn’t even walk like a cat! Instead,
he has the lumbering gait of a fat possum. He’s so ridiculous and adorable
though, it’s hard to resist his charms – even when he does insist on coating
the velvet loveseat in my studio with a thick pelt of orange fluff! I had to put
down a towel, because it got so grody. The copy of Lula Magazine obscured
by cat-fat was a lovely gift from my dear sweet darling Chad Merritt, who will
be here in just a matter of days! I cannot wait to frolic and watch fireworks with him!

Oh how I wish this lovely hand-tinted moth print could be mine! Alas,
a photo must suffice. I want to plant more and more night-blooming
flowers to attract giant moths to our garden. I have loads of moon-flowers
seeds that never made it into the ground – I wonder if they’re still any good?

In lieu of moonflowers, we’ve got loads of angel trumpets, oh heavenly datura!
The other evening we sat transfixed, watching the huge flowers unfurl. Who
needs television when you have a garden? We even made a video of it
happening! If you are very, very patient, you might enjoy it too:

Poppy imagery has been following me everywhere – on old postcards
and pillows, and songs and in dreams especially. I dreamt I encountered
the god Narcos – he was six storey talls, swaying gray and ancient high
above me. His arms were snakes made of fire and hundreds upon hundreds
of hands. He was challenging me in a voice made of stone and centuries
of bringing sleep, numbness, dreams and death to the countless. The
poppy priestesses spoke for me, in white robes crowned with the red
and black blooms. They told of the blood pact, the monthly sacrifices
all women must make, and our calling to honor the flower, and not
the poison. They used the nectar only for healing, for bringing succor
rather than sybaritic oblivion. A boon was granted; I had their protection
and thus Narcos was rendered powerless. It was one of the most intensely
symbolic dreams I’ve had in a while, and I feel like the spirit of the plants
were speaking to me. Interesting, too because I actually cannot ingest
opiates or opiods at all. They make me so uncomfortable and ill, which
completely negates their purpose. I do love the flowers, though and I
love the dried pods. We gathered so many seeds! Also tons of arugula
and kale seeds. If anyone wants to do a seed trade, just holler.
Oh, and I just found this article about Wolfgang Stuppy, Seed Morphologist Extraordinaire!
He’s doing amazing work, and his book Seeds: Time Capsules Of Life
is really stunning. “Stuppy works in the seed conservation department at the
Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew (or Kew Gardens) in London. Kew heads up the
Millennium Seed Bank Project, an international conservation effort to collect
and store the seeds of 24,000 plants from around the world —
and the seeds of all native flora in the United Kingdom.”

“Ooh, their breath is warm,
And they smell Iike sleep
And they say they take me home -
Like poppies, heavy with seed -
They take me deeper and deeper.”
– Kate Bush, And Dream of Sheep

Our nectarine, pear and peach trees have been thickly laden with fruit,
but we got distracted and forgot to spray the fruit with soapy water.
I was shocked to discover all the pretty golden orbs covered in
sucking beetles, who drilled holes and swarmed the trees.
The leaking nectar attracted loads of butterflies who made
little tea-parties, extending their curled tongues to lick up the juice.

Obviously, I was very transfixed by them! I couldn’t stop taking pictures.

I’m hoping all of you are having a very fruitful and delightful summer solstice!
I wish we had time for some fire-leaping or corn dances or something, but
in lieu of that, how about we all watch Wicker Man again? Mer posted a
great reminder up at Coilhouse, but if you’ve never seen the whole film,
hop to that first, eh? It’s one of my all time favorites. Avoid the remake, please!

“Sumer Is Icumen In” (Wicker Man Version)

One pink flower and one blue flower – I’ve never seen such a thing!
Borage is one of my favorite herbs to grow. I just found out that the leaves taste
like cucumber! I’m going to experiment with eating them soon. The oil is good
for lady-troubles and hormonal imbalances, among other things. It’s also known as Starflower,
and comes from Syria. The flowers apparently have a sweet honey-like
taste and are one of the few truly blue-colored edible things! I had no idea Borage
is used in companion planting – it’s something I’ve been researching for a bit, but
there’s so much to learn! It is said to improve the growth of tomatoes, and also
make them taste better, and is said to repel the tomato hornworm. Likewise,
it is thought to protect or nurse legumes, spinach and brassica, and even
strawberries. Well, I need to plant Borage everywhere now, eh?

Blue Skullcap – Scutellaria lateriflora (also known as Hoodwort or Blue Pimpernel)
It’s said this this one is powerful remedy to calm the mind and prepare for meditation,
and good for strengthening the insight. It’s a ceremonial symbol of introduction
for young girls coming into womanhood, and a well known herb for the lady troubles.
It’s also a weapon against muscle spasms caused by rabies (that’s why it’s also called
Mad-Dog Weed!) Skullcap has a long history of use against insomnia, nerve pain,
anxiety, and delirium tremens. I grow the pink kind too, but this special blue one
was a gift from a magical elf gardener-man. Its growth patterns are very psychedelic!

So, I must learn this Joanna Newsome song this week for a benefit on Saturday.
It’s not an easy one to sing at all! Wish me luck, won’t you?
Hopefully I won’t be petrified. I remember when this song
was released before Have One On Me came out, and I
listened to it over and over on repeat, huddled in blankets
and aching for the warm days when I could work in my
garden. I’ve been thinking about forgiveness a lot lately,
and welcoming everyone into my garden with an open
heart, regardless of the trouble we might have had.
It’s especially significant, because I’ll be doing this
song with my step-brother (he’s going to play it on
guitar.) We’ve never played music together, and
a year or so ago I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
But we’re working on it, and this will be part of that process.
It’s hard, but worth it. I would rather love openly, than
protect my heart. I don’t hold grudges, as a rule,
and I tend to be loyal to a fault. I guess there are
worse things to be. I’m learning how to make it work.
I’d rather just have everyone be together, I guess.
Well, I think Joanna really says it best – I hope we
can do the song justice! I’m trying not to be scared.

“I found a little plot of land
in the garden of eden
it was dirt and dirt is all the same

I believe, regardless, I believe in everyone”
- Joanna Newsom – ’81

“It’s 3:23 in the morning
and I’m awake
because my great great grandchildren
won’t let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?

what did you do
once
you
knew?”
-Drew Dellinger, “Hieroglyphic Stairway”
From “Nature and the Human Soul”
by Bill Plotkin

Tonight, I’m up late. Like Drew, I cannot sleep —
though I am very tired. I’ve never felt so helpless
to do anything useful in the face of such a vast
spoiling. I’ll re-shave half my head, my lover’s head,
my fluffy dogs and bag it up and mail it in hopes that
a part of me and those I love might soak up a tiny bit
of that poison. The poison that fuels my world, that
gets me to work everyday. I sit here hallucinating that I can
smell a whiff of crude on the breeze, knowing that folks
in Mid-City (NOLA) already can. The fertile delta is being
getting kicked in the cunt, repeatedly. Have you ever been
to the coastal wetlands? Do you know what a flock of egrets
looks like? White-white shaded red against the black and twisted
cypress castles in the sunset, the sound their wings make rising up
from the swamp, all at once. Rails, gallinules, and snipe slathered
in oil, eyes blistering. It makes me think of the first trip I made to the
Gulf when I was small. Port Aransas family vacation desperation,
scrappy sad sea-town with sad sea-shell shops that stunk of brine
and pina-colada. Bon Jovi’s Blaze of Glory on every radio, stirring
the first throbs of pubescently painful longing. I was the fetal shark
stuck in the jar at the front desk of the scab-hole, flea-bag motel we stayed at.
Noisy old mold-smelling air-conditioner and sand in the carpet, MTV on every
minute. Walking the apocalyptic beach every day, and finding nothing
but death. Sting-rays, countless fish and birds, and the pulsing, hypnotic
cobalt jellyfish. All rotting, rotten. I was thinking something must’ve happened,
but no one could tell me. I tried overcoming my fear of something sharp touching
my leg in the water and then tugging me down, and let myself be carried out far.
The brown water too warm, like salt-coffee, mud-sea. The bobbing and tar-smell
made me nauseous, but the sight of men fishing off the pier nearby reassured me.
Later, I walked up to see what they were catching so many of. Hammerheads, big ones.
The most pre-historic and vicious of fishes, pulled up from right were I had been
dumbly treading water moments before. Blackout Beach is what I’ve been listening
to over and over while writing this. The perfect soundtrack for my heart’s bleak moments,
and for dark nights in general. Really, really good stuff. It’s Ass Saw the Angel on Ketamine.
Carey Mercer‘s lyrics make me wish he wrote books as well. More albums will suffice
for the nonce, though. I’m doing what I always do in times like these: I stay up late reading
everything I can find, poring over diagrams, fretting, wishing I had a whiskey, being glad
I don’t smoke anymore (because I’d be through a pack by now) and trying desperately to
write. To get it out of me, and out to you. An exorcism, and a hope that even through some
awareness, there could be a chance at helping. So, here’s a slew of what I’ve been reading
and looking at. Check it out, and at the very least, focus some of your consciousness on what’s
happening right now — and while you’re at it, please spare a thought for poor Tennessee,
seeing the images prickles my neck, it’s so familiar. Drowned cities. This earth, she’s a snake.
She’s being pierced with arrows, curled into a ball, biting her own tail from the pain, and now
rising up in anguish, her back rippling and knocking askew settlements nestled into her corded
muscles. Her hips buck up, and she’s thrashing, drooling and panting, tears and blood streaming
out in great gouts and overflowing the banks. How long until she shakes us off for good?

✸ Deepwater Horizon Response – Gulf of Mexico-Transocean Drilling Incident

✸ New Orleans Journal – As Oil Spill Looms, a City Plays the Waiting Game Again

✸ The Gulf oil spill blame game
“If you are searching for the perfect metaphor to describe humanity’s 21st century plight —
an energy-hungry and energy-dependent civilization occupying a resource-constrained planet —
then you need look no further than at a satellite photo of the giant spreading oil slick in the Gulf
of Mexico. That massive hydrocarbon stain is our collective scarlet letter, the price we pay for a
lifestyle of extraordinary affluence and comfort — at least as compared to most of the humans
who have ever lived.” – from Salon.com

✸ Sierra Club: “Oil spill is America’s Chernobyl”

✸ Sunset, Mississippi Gulf Coast near Waveland, 2008
“Katrina. The plight of poor working people. The Great Recession. The BP oil spill.
These aren’t just incidents, or accidents, or unfortunate circumstances.
I’m not saying they’re a conspiracy either. I’m saying they’re all a byproduct of a system
which is deeply, fundamentally broken, and increasingly can produce no other results.”
-from Clayton Cubitt’s amazing blog

✸ Photographs of the oil spill approaching Louisiana coast

✸ Just in case you can’t quite get your mind around it (I know I can’t),
the good folks at GOOD have provided us with this horrifying bit of perspective –
Infographic: The Size of the Oil Spill

✸ BP using toxic chemicals to ‘disperse’ spilled oil

✸ Black Death: Will Fisheries Survive the Oil Spill?

✸ Tracking the Oil Spill
A map of the extent of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, day by day.

(Photograph by Karen Glaser)
from her breathtaking Springs and Swamps collection)
I can’t stop myself from thinking about what’s going to happen when this shit permeates
the bayous. No more crawdads, man. Looking at these gorgeous underwater shots from
Karen Glaser makes me weep for places that were far from pristine a month ago — now
soon to be poisoned beyond all saving. I’m really not sure if a lot of people are comprehending
how majorly fucked we are. This is going to have far-reaching, and long-lasting effects,
and the ripple’s going to touch you at some point. Next time you put a piece of seafood
into your mouth, consider where it came from. Consider the water it lived in. Even if you
don’t eat animals (which I respect, but can’t quite manage), or never considered the Gulf
of Mexico or its wetlands as important (they are), this is going to affect you. A good friend
of mine drove down to the Gulf coast the other day, to see it with her own eyes, and to
say goodbye before it’s ruined forever. She says denial is the general state of mind of
the people she’s met down there. What are the 5 stages of grief? When are we going
to get angry? I’m there, but what will it do? Help me write all this out, I guess.

Or, here’s some things we can do to help:
✸ Oil Spill Volunteers

✸ GREATER NEW ORLEANS FOUNDATION OPENS GULF COAST OIL SPILL FUND

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

- The Walrus and The Carpenter
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

Isn’t this the most amazing painting? I’m cursing myself for
not buying it when I had the chance. Luckily, I got to take a
picture before it was swept away. Look at the giant grasshopper!
I just want to hang out with big green bugs and talking irises and be five.
Can that be arranged? Thanks. Damn, why isn’t this painting mine? Foolish!

Here’s another wonderfully naive iris painting. I love the bare trees in the
background and the crackling paint. It’s kind of sweet and depressing all
at the same time. We get some really great artworks by mysterious painters
in the shop fairly often. I have the urge to start collecting some of them,
but I know what a slippery slope that is! My collections are already pretty
out of hand as it is. But, still. I guess if I had nabbed the first creepy iris
painting, I would’ve had to get this one too, right? That’s a pretty obscure
genre: weird iris paintings! I suppose it’s really for the best. Alas, alack.

Instead, how about I collect real irises, and iris perfume?
I remember endlessly poring over iris catalogues with my
mama. Even then, I was obsessed with the pure black and
bright blue irises, the odd green ones and the bi-colors and
tiger striped ones. I love their regal beards and crazy names.
Irises are pretty metal, as far as flowers go. Case in point,
the one I can’t wait to order for my metal-loving blacksmith
boyfriend: Anvil of Darkness! Hell yes. We’re going to have
the most hardcore garden. So far, we have some lovely purple irises
that Violet planted, and white ones from our sweet botanist friend.
I have to wait until Fall to plant more, so in the meantime I’ve been
dabbling with Iris scents. I’d always wanted to try Bois d’Iris
by The Different Company, but I have to say – it’s just not ringing my bells.
The notes are: iris, vetiver, bergamot, cedar, narcissus, geranium and musk,
but I’m only getting old lady. My favorite perfume blog, Now Smell This
describes the sensation of wearing Bois d’Iris as “…closer to being in an
undergound tunnel, with the smell of damp wood and roots.”
I wish I could agree, as I feel like I’m missing the damp and earthen
root smell I crave. In Le Labo Iris 39 sounds more my style with iris
“as earthy and inviting as a rundown house with a wild garden”
I’d also love to try Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist one day,
though it’s probably too civilized for a beast like me.

“For Iris Silver Mist, for instance, the idea came to him
in a Moroccan bookshop that he should look for an iris
so refined, so almost grey, that it could be worn by a man
in a grey flannel suit as easily as by woman.
— From Seducer of The Senses,
a long profile of Serge Lutens in the Financial Times.

Sodden rose-petals on the front porch. Cross your fingers that it keeps
raining all spring. We need it! Our roses are going crazy – busting out
in fuschia and lavender all over the place. I do love me some wild roses.
I think these look like pomegranate kernels, do you see it too?

Mlle. Verhext’s sweetheart + husband to be, Mr. Lee
sent us the sweetest parcel filled with mangosteens (aka. mogwai eggs!)
and (holy cats) Amorphophallus konjac corms! We are going to have voodoo lilies!
Hello, dream come true! On a much graver note,
please, please send good finding energy to Tam’s friend Alex.
She’s been missing for almost a week now. If you’re in the Bay
Area, or have friends that are, please take a minute to re-post
the information about her. I can tell that she’s an amazing person,
and my heart is clenched up wondering where she is.

More treasures from Uncommon Objects:
the best rabbit brooch ever, a very handsome pocketwatch,
and some Victorian woven-hair mourning jewelry. I want it all.

Oh, and here’s another intriguing painting from the shop! Luckily,
my friend and colleague Jeff bought this one, so I can go visit it.
It was painted by a man named Richard Wilt,
in 1951. Jeff was so intrigued by it that he looked up some information,
and ended up talking on the phone to Richard’s widow! She remembered
the piece well, and was very happy to talk about her husband’s work.
Everything we come in contact with at Uncommon Objects has a story -
sometimes we make them up, but sometimes we get to solve mysteries.
Often, I can hold something old and let it tell me its story. Have you ever
had that sensation? Psychometry. I’d like to get better at it. By the way,
I really love my job – I’m super lucky to be able to work in such a creative
place that’s constantly stimulating my imagination with magic, history and art.
I’ve worked some awful jobs in the past though, and I wish I had read this
back then: ordinary magic – part 2 (via Lorra Faye and Gala Darling – thanks ladies!)