I am placing the blog on a summer hiatus/summer schedule. This essentially means I will not be posting on a regular basis for the next few months, due to other obligations, travel plans, and the desire to focus more fully on my visual creative works.
I realize this runs the risk of alienating those folks who do follow me, but it’s a necessary choice. I am feeling a bit burned out with life online in general.
The heavy push of “AI” in all things with no choice to opt out, accompanied by some very invasive licensing rewrites, requires that I consider at length the type of materials I will be making available to the Internet. Indeed, the digital creative process that I have spent many years of my life and career learning and improving is now potentially swept away. This is not any context that the AI is “replacing” those skills, but that the AI, and the companies who own it, are assuming rights to do with my work what they will, under the sham excuse of “protecting against improper use”.
My initial response to this overreaching asset grab is to go analog. A painting or sculpture made by my hand, is unquestionably my own work, to do with as I will, not what the corporation will. Even should I employ digital means to present and sell that work, the work itself lies outside the grasp of corporate greed, and the ignorant masses who are too ready to fuel it by boosting their own egos using AI created works “they made”.
A secondary consideration is that social media is now swarming with advertising to the point that I have no interest. Every new splinter service that bubbles up, should they survive long enough to reach a viable population density, must either subsist on ads or subscription. This is not unreasonable in itself. I am in the technology business, and I understand that the resources cost money (though I seriously question whether it costs as much as the mega-corps are raking in). A recent foray onto Pinterest looking for reference and inspirational images was saturated with 50-60% advertising pins. I have no time for that.
Meta properties are possibly the worst (I find it rather easy to ignore ads on Youtube, as I have many years experience ignoring them on TV) as far as this exploitation goes. Again, I seriously doubt the ratio of cost to profit is “fair and reasonable” even given the global reach of these applications and the need to support them 24/7/365.
Hardware is cheap. Software licensing from third parties (where it exists, most of the web runs on freeware Linux, Apache Servers, and MySQL databases) is tremendously cheap at scale, and this then leaves the proprietary code of application, and the humans engaged to modify and maintain it.
Facebook and it’s brethren are devised on top of freeware or Open Source engines, that are then extended by programmers. Many, if not most are offshore, making far lower wages than their US equivalents. The greatest amount of energy and resources are devoted to keeping “the algorithm” a perpetually moving target.
This spawns the false requirement to purchase advertising, and feeds a sub industry of expert consultants to “optimize your SEO”.
Having seen the output of various seminars and training programs, I can say without much fear of contradiction, that the persons touting them are not imparting any real understanding of marketing principles, and encourage practices which are antithetical to long established mass communication principles.
This leaves a discouraged attendee wondering what they missed, and ripe for the next round of “miracle cures” for the algorithm blues.
In short, the best way to make money on social media is to sell training on social media. Since the algorithm is always changing, and there’s really very few useful metrics available for statistical analysis, the average sole proprietor or small business won’t recognize the snake oil until you’ve packed up the wagon and moseyed on to the next town.
Obviously, there’s a lot of venom here.
I am not even going to elaborate on the extreme amounts of unwelcome posts of socio-political nature that, despite actively “curating” my connections on the social platforms, continue to invade that space. Yes, I do have political views. I have political discussions when it suits me, in private, with people who I may or may not know “in real life”. But so very much of what floats on line is pure misdirection, propaganda, and outright fraud.
I do not need to be marinating in this toxic soup daily. It makes me grumpy, stifles the creative impulse, and wastes a lot of time I could be drawing and painting and sculpting and petting cats.
So for the nonce, I shall post when I am inspired to post, and I really hope to post only when such inspiration is a positive thing.
No one (especially me) wants to hear nothing but bitching. I don’t want to be the one telling those damned kids to get off my virtual lawn, and lately I am feeling it. So I hope you will all understand.
The book is not closed, but I am going to put a marker here and come back to it at some later point, when I feel better about it all. If that doesn’t happen, well, I was around before all this. I am fairly sure I can function without it.
Thank you all who have supported me to this point. I hope you have some value from it. All previous articles will remain available for as long as I keep the site going. I now need to focus on other things, some of which may generate needed revenue to that end.
As a child in the 70s, particularly one with an artistic bent, there was nothing quite so cool as the big 64 color box of Crayola crayons.
Yes, there was probably some sort of status symbolism attached to it. It was not, despite what one might think, accessible to people at all income levels.
At least, that was what my parents frequently told me, and I accept that to have been the case. The big box (with that ever so cool built in crayon sharpener) was a rare gift, one that only came every few years. It had to be shared with my brother, and frequently with cousins and other visiting children, who invariably would break the crayons, lose them, and possibly eat them.
Leaving me with a less than pristine complete set, which caused me no end of frustration. Imagine how one might feel if the neighbor borrowed the Mercedes and returned it dented, with a broken windshield and missing fender. It was that big a deal.
I’m certain this probably relates to numerous neuropsychological issues that people over the years have quasi-diagnosed my having. I have no further comment on that.
But I do have my very own 64 color box of Crayola crayons (though the sharpener is no longer included…lawyers…) that I don’t have to share with anyone else.
Possibly as a result of this trivial (yet very real to a seven or eight year old) trauma, I have a tendency to want “complete sets” of things, especially art supplies. When I find a brand and type I like, the first thing I do is go to the factory website and see how many colors are available. Then I look for how much that complete set is going to cost.
Most of them are considerably more than the 64 color box of Crayola crayons. Some of them approach the cost of that dented Mercedes.
All sorts of fancy watercolors/ink blocks/color media. This doesn’t include the numerous bottles of ink and liquid colors I keep in the other room. I have accumulated many of these over the years when I could afford them, usually when I got a commission or project so that I could “use” them. Recently though, I have gotten some just because the media intrigued me. When I started out (around 40ish years ago) many of these didn’t exist. In a market where differentiating yourself from all the other color companies is difficult, many vendors have invented completely new media.
But if I truly really want them, I will save my change and eat bologna and eventually get them. I’ve been doing this a bit more over the last few years, because my children have reached independent adult status and there’s less of an obligation to be frugal in all things.
I have apparently been collecting art supplies (because hoarding implies another one of those metal quasi-diagnoses). This is a thing called “opportunity buying”. I know this because I am a professional buyer. That’s actually part of my job description in the day job.
Opportunity buying is getting stuff when it’s on sale, on clearance, close-out, discontinued, or special reduced rate, and buying all the store has of it. Because it appears to be a useful thing that somehow someday you will need and won’t you feel oh-so-smart and oh-so-smug when you already have it.
Now much to my recent delight (and smugness) I have discovered that I bought some clearance priced oil painting supplies that I found really really cheap but frankly had no idea what they were. Now that I am working with oil paint again, and learning and relearning the various sorts of alchemies involved, I actually do have a use for these things, and now I don’t have to spend more to get them.
This joy came as a complete surprise, because, in looking for some other thing (which I still can’t find) among my collection (okay, okay…hoard) of supplies I discovered that I had bought this thing that I now could put to good use.
I hope I don’t forget where it is, when I actually get around to using it.
The box of colors on the top are 24 of the full 72 color set of Derwent Inktense colors. It comes in the tin on the bottom and in as set of sticks/blocks which I also have. The company has recently issued a set of watercolors, but they are presently not yet available stateside. Similar high end manufacturers such as Winsor-Newton, Sennelier, Cretacolor, and Caran d’Ache, are based in Europe, where the tradition of fine art supplies has a history going back at least two centuries. Unfortunately, this tends to increase the price.
But I find I am considering just how much of this stuff I really do need. How many “complete sets” are actually required?
Am I simply fulfilling a kind of art Pokemon game, where owning the set still satisfies that seven year old with the broken crayons?
The set of pricey art supplies will not in and of themselves make one a better artist. That is in you. It’s focus and practice and patience.
Will it make it easier for you to achieve your vision. Potentially, yes.
If you struggle with the medium, it’s frustrating. Most artists will tell you they are already struggling with their vision versus their skills. We are never satisfied with the work that comes out (or at least mostly never satisfied). Adding another layer of combat between you and the brush or the chalk or the canvas just makes that harder.
But maybe I don’t need all the crayons. In fact, I have found that having all the crayons sometimes makes for a less expressive or inventive solution. So I am working toward having the crayons I will use (whether they be crayons, or pastels, or colored pencils, or paints, or papers) and living with the idea that if I find out I really really need another color, I can probably go get that.
I justify the use of such materials because they are formulated to outlast me. The various pieces I made back in art school, that have not already been lost or damaged by various external agencies, may have already started to fade.
The work I do now, with the better tools, has a shelf life of at least 500 years. Should my work please whatever culture exists in another half-millennia, I trust they’ll be technologically advanced enough to extend it’s preservation, much as we are now doing to save masterpieces from the Renaissance.
So it’s not entirely ostentation, to collect these materials, so long as I am actually working with them.
A small test piece using a 24 color (out of 96) set of Caran d’Ache oil pastels. I got these because the 12 color set of Sennelier, while wonderful, were quite expensive, especially to get the whole set (120 colors). Caran d’Ache were favorably reviewed in comparison to the Sennelier, so I thought I would try them out. So far they are very different. Not bad, mind you, but very different.
It was gratifying though, working on this image last night, to realize that I was simply painting with the goal of making the media work for me. That is, there is no deadline, no client waiting, it’s just picking up the tool and trying something. That’s an exquisite relief from a very long time of working for paid output.
The same applies to the numerous wares and paraphernalia associated with the practice of magic. The “aesthetic” of witchcraft is a topic frequently raised on the socials. I have my own counsel on that.
If one looks to the traditional folk magic of our species, it’s fairly obvious that witches and their like didn’t keep specialized tools displayed on elaborate shrines or altars. For one thing, doing so in a post pagan world would get one imprisoned, or killed.
More likely the broom was the same one used to sweep the hearth, the knife the same used to make the meal. The cauldron was that pot the meal cooked in, and the hearth it sat on was altar enough. In point of fact, the connection between these things used in life made them, in my personal view, more sacred and more potent, than if they were kept hidden and separate.
Does it feel “cool” to have the custom made special broom, the hand-forged athame, and the special cauldron upon the sacred altar? Sure it does. To the extent that it makes it easier to enter into an altered state of consciousness for the performance of a rite, such props fulfill the similar role that having the higher-end paint does for the artist. It removes another barrier in the creative process.
But as to the necessity, well, that’s a personal decision. In the many years I have been both an artist and a magician, I have had to make do with what I had, or what I could disguise as “normal”. I made up for the difference with willpower, ambition, and work.
So maybe we don’t need that big box of crayons. But there’s no shame in having it if we want it.
One of the chief reasons for my Yuletide sabbatical was that I had not had the time in recent months to work on any of the art projects that I had planned/sketched/imagined during the several months between my last major road trip in August and the advent of my Halloween/Birthday season.
As a creature of the Winter Dark, this period is often when I circle back into myself and focus on the creative endeavors that summer obligations make difficult. Alas, as the years pass this luxury of a winter respite seems harder to return to, but in this case, the one thing I could set aside was my own commitment to a weekly article here.
I am aware my readership, while loyal, is not large. And that’s fine, because I feel like I am reaching those who are open to hearing what I am saying in the way I am saying it. I had contemplated other means of doing this, most notably a book and a podcast (not necessarily both). But the logistics of doing these to the level and extent that I envisioned them, required a great deal more of a commitment of time, at least, and energy to “make a go of it”.
The slow progress on this painting is deliberate. I have not worked in oil in many years, and, to be honest, I was never terribly good with them when I did. The years have given me patience to work with the more complicated techniques, as well as wait for layers to properly cure before barreling forward to the next part. I suppose I would have been a good fresco painter back in my 20s, because I worked fast, and sometimes the spontaneity served me, but often it left a work that was not as good as it could have been. Many of the works I have envisioned for 2024 and beyond are to redress the less successful versions of my young.
So I started to put together this website with the intention of using it as a storefront, a place to sell such works as I had imagined. To compliment and enhance the branding of said wares, I started trying to put together a page or two on my personal perspective of magic and how it relates to my art. But as technical issues delayed the storefront, and I was working out options (and budget) to move the site to a new service provider that would support the storefront technology reliably, I started working with this WordPress side-site to help better articulate that message of magic and art.
I have mentioned that somewhere along the way the tail started wagging the dog. In mid December, I decided to send the dog to obedience school, and get back to the creative art part of the thing, because, a. ) the pre-paid contract for the website was already a year in with no storefront to fund renewal; and b.) there wasn’t anything for the storefront to sell.
The last couple of months have not been as productive in that respect as I would have preferred, but I do not consider the time wasted, nor do I feel that the directions I am heading in now are un-useful.
Sometimes we need to not just go back to the well, but back to the basics.
A consequence of taking a break is that my brain was somewhat more rested. Thus, said brain returned to it’s proper job of producing new ideas, resulting in a number of ideas for artwork. This was the intended purpose of taking the break. However, the new ideas brought with them a desire to use materials and methods that I had not used for some time, or never, or never together, and well, I was not at all sure I would be able to execute on the ideas offered by the now properly operating brain.
If you are a creative person, you may have had that experience of attempting to make something you can clearly see in your mind, but can’t seem to get right. It’s frustrating to the nth degree, and also, the anxiety of having such a failure can paralyze one to trying in the first place.
In fairness, after almost 40 years as a working artist, I am reasonably skilled at making my hands behave. Absent the occasional arthritic twinge, expressing visually what I see in my head is not so difficult as it used to be.
Except in the case of doing so with materials and methods that I had not used in ages, or ever, or ever together. That’s reasonable. One should not expect to execute flawlessly in a new media, or an old one that was never as friendly. And yet, the desire is there to do so. Especially if the end result is expected to be a commercial success.
Thus one is required to practice. To test, rehearse, fail, rethink, retry, and otherwise make those inevitable mistakes without the final piece being subject to these errors.
Thing is, the art of practice is not as easy as you think. Especially for a creative sort, who is expecting high quality outcomes.
Progress on a small gouache sketch on smooth bristol board. I had acquired a set of this type of paint in a discount sale, and used it with a couple of water color and aquarelle works. But in those executions, with the exception of using the white tube as a correction, I more or less used it transparently, as I would a watercolor.
That is a valid method. Essentially gouache and watercolor are the same thing- pigment with a gum arabic binder. Gouache has additional “whiting” or “body” to make them go on opaque. Unlike acrylic paint, which has largely replaced gouache in professional illustration work, the older medium will soften, melt, run, and blend even after the initial layer dries. This can be a disadvantage, or it can be useful to lighten or blend out a heavier color, as in the face above. Finessing these qualities is difficult, particularly if one doesn’t frequently use the medium.
It’s fortunate that as I am in my late 50s I have acquired the patience I did not have in my 20s. In my 20s, I worked without regard to error, in a mad blind rush of ego and drive that merely put imperfect or less successful works under the bed or in the closet to be forgotten. I had no time for specific tried methodologies of testing and practicing.
So now, I have come round full circle to making tests, to establish how the media will work for my intended final piece, indeed, whether or not it will work. In some cases, I have taken out a particular type of tool purely to practice, knowing it might not be suitable for the thing I am trying to do.
For example, I had an idea for a painting. I sketched it with oil pastel, though I knew the oil pastel wouldn’t actually give me a good result. It was not the best option to do the sketch, but I wanted to get a better feel for the oil pastels.
Yet, it is the ultimate outcome of learning mastery, and understanding better, the materials which are new to me, or that I have forgotten.
Coincident with these practical exercises has been extensive research into both the direct use of these materials, but also into the proper curation of finished works using them.
Many of these latter media are “fussy”. They can be complicated exercises in alchemy, such as oil painting, printmaking, and analog chemical photography, or simply just rather difficult to use, preserve, and store, such as pastel, water color, and charcoal drawings. In my 20s, short on patience and high on passion, it was all to easy to set these to the side, and assure myself that the “new media” of polymer emulsion acrylic paint was the way to go. “Plastic” paint would last for ages, even without a layer of polymer varnish (also easy to apply and clean up versus oil paint) and the pencil stuff was safe with enough spray on fixative.
Almost 40 years on, the implications of a petrochemical based art media is something I have more concerns about. While certainly there are pigments in use in all media that are derived from chemical sources, rare earths, and potentially toxic materials, older methods, like oil painting, watercolor, and pastels, are typically more sustainable and earth friendly.
I have spent my “mad money” the last few years on getting best-in-class art materials that I dreamed of having as a young starving student. These are expensive compared to what you run across in the “art” section of a craft store, or even at college book store. But in this case, the old adage “you get what you pay for” is often true. The quality and purity of the pigments mean that you end up using less to get the same vibrance of color compared to student or hobbyist grade materials. Another advantage to such sets is that most professional media is sold as single replacements, so if you run through all of your Naples Yellow, then you can just go get that.
Perhaps of most concern though as I get older is that the better quality materials may be less toxic, or at least are formulated with an awareness that the artist wants materials that are safe and renewable, and will pay a premium for it.
The most toxic solvent generally used with oil paint is turpentine, which is a by product of pine trees. Oddly enough, a number of professional paint companies have shifted to an “odorless mineral spirit” which is petroleum based. Neither is something you need to be breathing in close quarters. Both are volatile and flammable. Turpentine at least is renewable. Manufacturers are working with citrus based solvents that have the same effective properties, but are renewable, non-toxic, and no-flammable, so there is an awareness in the professional art industry that these things are an issue.
Likewise, manufacturers of pencils, crayons, and pastels are now producing vegan friendly solutions, These remove the beeswax that has been a feature of paint binders since ancient Egypt. In some media, eggs, animal glues, and other such by-products are being reconsidered in light of animal cruelty. Unfortunately, the alternative product is often a petrochemical, such as a paraben or an epoxy.
Hopefully research will yield solutions that meet both the ethical considerations and provide sustainable archival media that will allow today’s artists to be seen and appreciated in the museums of the 26th century, as we now can look at the works of the great Renaissance masters. Ironically, the late 19th and 20th century “modern” media are often the more problematic for curators. The materials themselves being made to a “commodity grade” standard, and applied, frequently, without the care and diligence that the artists of earlier eras learned through long apprenticeships.
While clearly I am writing about my recent studio work, my brain was not without the appreciation of the parallels to magical practice. During the last week I was also interviewed by Your Average Witch Podcast, and part of the discussion is always about methods of practice. It occurred to me that my approach to magic, like my approach to art, might benefit from a reacquaintance with those first principles. That is, while there are a number of things I do as habit, it couldn’t hurt to at least dig into the underlying principles behind those habits, and see if perhaps, in habitualizing them, I had shortcut some of the needed structure for the sake of convenience and time.
Like the painting, if I am doing something familiar, my hands know the way. The results are sufficient, but perhaps not spectacular. Such complacency is not beneficial. It leads to the trap of excusing poor performance, when paying closer attention, taking the time, and doing the research, might in fact have yielded a better result. And in fact the additional effort to get that first result invigorates and educates all subsequent attempts.
If I do a lot of the fiddly stuff for one or two paintings, then the next 10 or 20 paintings benefit from what I have learned, and also from the better habits of practice and research.
The same applies to spell craft and any other magical disciplines.
When we are young, we rush by what we need to do because we are in a hurry to get something done.
When we are older, we shortcut what we need to do because it doesn’t seem to make a difference.
And that’s because we didn’t do it when we were younger and didn’t have the basic sense to realize we were wrong.
Slow down. Take a breath. Re-read that chapter.
Not everything has to be a finished work. It’s okay to do something just to figure out how to do it. And to absolutely flop doing it until you figure it out.
I’ll be back in a week, I think. I have no idea what we’ll be getting into then.
After much contemplation I have made the decision to take a break from publishing this blog. I believe this will be a temporary absence, and expect I will resume sometime after the start of the new year, but I do not have a specific date I can point to.
In recent weeks, I have felt too often that I am repeating myself. Some of this is, I know, due to an understandable desire to tie the content to calendar events and topics of interest. While this technique is a tried and true one used by editorial directors worldwide, it does have the disadvantage of becoming a rut.
If I am returning to plow the same fields, then I should hope to unearth some fresh or novel idea that makes such re-examination worth the effort. I can’t say that I feel that is happening.
If I am lacking in inspiration, that too, needs a remedy, whether it is to deliver a new perspective on a previous topic or to find uncharted territories to explore. In this, I find myself greatly distracted by daily demands on my time, and the subtle nudge that there are other things that I might be doing that are perhaps more mentally stimulating and emotionally rewarding.
Truth be told, the website here was meant to be a showcase and storefront for my art, and to date that has not occurred. The blog was intended as a sideline, to express how my own viewpoint on sacred thinking influenced the creation of that art. The growth of it into what it has become was unexpected, has been enjoyable, and a source of personal satisfaction. Yet as I feel an ebb in my enthusiasm for what I am doing with it, I must wonder if the few hours I spend each week, writing, editing, and illustrating each article may not be better spent, at least for a while, in pursuit of the art. So that is the decision I have come to.
Of course, if the muse strikes, as it often has, I cannot say that I won’t post during this chosen hiatus. Nor can I say that I am fully committed to restarting at any point, because I need to feel that it is something I can sustain.
I realize that I do have readers out there who enjoy and appreciate what I am offering, and it is for those readers as well that I am making the decision to take some time away. If all I am offering is a slightly repackaged version of last years content, it’s going to be of little interest. and ultimately both audience and author will fade away.
I hope that my readers do understand this, and will spend the time they took to read the weekly article in enjoyable pursuits of their own. I will be back in some form or fashion. I am far too much of an opinionated crank to be silent for too long, and this is only the most recent in a string of such forms of personal expression I’ve had since grade school.
Until then, tuck in, stay warm, enjoy each other, and celebrate what holidays you hold.
Card IX of the Major Arcana is one that I find myself drawn more and more to as I get older. This is, to my thinking, something of a natural progression, and we’ll look into that. For those who have not read my earlier articles where the Hermit is discussed in various contexts, this will likely all be new territory. For those who have followed me for a while, I trust you will forgive any repetition of concepts mentioned in those earlier articles as we delve into this week’s topic.
The Hermit card shows a lone figure standing on a snowy mountain summit against a blue sky. He wears a hooded grey robe, and has long white hair and beard. In his left hand he holds a simple staff, and in his right he holds a lantern. In the midst of the lantern is a hexagram star, giving off rays that travel only a short distance. There are the tops of other mountains seen in the distance. His gaze is cast downward.
In keeping with austerity of a life in isolation, this is one of the most minimalist designs Pamela Smith offers us.
The design here is one of the simplest of all the Major Arcana. That is appropriately in keeping with the subject as an ascetic engaged in isolated contemplation. Because, as we have discussed, Waite’s charge for this deck was intimately connected with Christianity, the figure is portrayed more or less as a lone monk.
Monasticism in origin was not the movement that it later became. The practice began with individuals withdrawing from the word and living completely alone, often in caves in the desert. There were no orders, and there certainly were no monasteries. The “mon” in monastic, and indeed in monk, is derived from monos- one, or lone. Supposedly Benedict was the first of these early monks to put forth the idea that they could all be alone together, and thus formed a monastic order. Later such orders would be approved as official by the church, and charged with specific duties and obligations. I imagine similar developments occurred within Buddhism, but there are still hermit monks in many traditions, who seek personal wisdom and enlightenment by a quiet withdrawing from the world.
This context is central to a number of the meanings and associations ascribed to this card. In a Christian scenario, the withdrawal is to place oneself away from sin, or at least, from the temptation to sin. In this way the Hermit purifies himself from the flesh, and thereby encourages the spirit. The wisdom imparted here, of course, is the absolute truth and rightness of the Christian teaching, and thereby the hermit monk has his soul saved, while his body suffers.
Mortification is practiced in multiple cultures for purification, but also for the creation of trance states and the getting of visions. Living in a cave in isolation, subsisting on a diet of “locusts and wild honey” could certainly induce psychologically altered states of consciousness. If one is bent to be looking for signs from God, those altered states can take on the character of a profound religious experience. Ironically, of course, these experiences are frequently depicted as ecstasy, general of the physical kind that the hermit has moved out into the wilderness to avoid.
The Hermit is traditionally given the Sign of Virgo astrologically. I find this a rather simplistic reading, equating virginity to the avowed celibacy of the monk. The two are not identical, nor are they interchangeable. It’s simply convenient to make the attribution if you are looking for some place in the Tarot to attach Virgo. The fact is, as I have mentioned before, that the Hermit in earlier decks is a personification of passing Time, and this Chronos being confounded in ancient days with Kronos the Titan, makes Saturn a more apt connection than Virgo.
This Hermit Card from the Wildwood Tarot is one of my favorites. The figure is reminiscent of Dicken’s Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come. It is faceless, and the robe is worn. The wreath and the faded adornments on the lower part of the robe identify this figure as the Holly King, the spirit of winter, and a potent symbol of the fate that awaits us all at the end of the path. Yet it carries a bright light in that Winter Dark, and shines it upon a lone little bird. The bird, along with the blades of grass piercing the snow, remind us that the future holds the promise of rebirth, and even when death awaits, it is a transition to
I have personally always seen the Hermit as analogous with both Father Time and some Saturnine aspect, and as I age, this is even more apparent. My own second Saturn return is now less than a year away, and astrologers suggest that this brings with it contemplation of deeper meanings, the path that we have taken, and the potentially shorter path that lies ahead. Old Saturn with his 29 year cycle, was rarely met more than twice by our ancestors, and sometimes no more than once. Thus associating him as I do with the aged figure on the mountain top, perhaps looking back along the trail he has climbed, is not so arbitrary as the monkish renunciation of carnal activities.
I personally identify greatly with the Hermit card. It is not that I am anti-social, at least in the sense that I live in a cave in the desert and eat bugs. But I have for more of my life than not, been very insular and private. My world has almost always been more of the inward one than the outer one. The cave I inhabit is internal. As a precocious and odd child, my social isolation was very common. I had few friends and most of them were similarly odd. I cannot with any accuracy say if the experience of being an outsider or loner led to my inclination toward silence and self-contemplation, or if I had a bent for quiet meditation that limited the ability of other more outgoing types to bond with me. Whether it was the chicken or the egg, the result is that I generally prefer pursuits of a personal nature rather than a collaborative one.
That is not to say that I am incapable of interacting with others, but it does require a great deal of energy and focus, even with persons whose company I enjoy sharing. This, I believe, is what they are defining as introversion these days. There is possibly also some overshadows of the autistic spectrum that may be applicable. The difficulty inherent in expressing oneself, combined with the discomfort, or even fear, of being misunderstood, and a compulsion to pre-run the outcomes of any and all scenarios, creates a synergy where communication is a complex and stress inducing task. The result is frequently exhausting, and therefore the appeal of the quite moments alone. The obligations of my life as I have lived it, and as the result of the choices I have made along it, require me to adapt and develop coping mechanisms to address these stresses. I have been doing so for the better part of half a century, but as I get older, I am becoming more selective as to when I need to employ those mechanisms, and when the outcome is equal or even better if I simply make the choice to be that Hermit.
Of course, my life would probably be much simpler if I had not self-imposed the need to author a weekly article on various subjects to an audience who may or may not be out there.
But that brings us to the Hermit’s Lantern.
My “genuine official” Hermit’s Lantern, or a reasonably close facsimile. Like many of the odd things in my collection of odd things, it is both a prop and a magical object. This is not unusual in the history of occult practice. The knife and cookpot and the hearthstone and walking stick are all mundane objects, with mundane uses, that the village witch of yore would have employed both for practical and more esoteric purpose. The idea that we have to have a sacred set of special tools that can’t ever ever be used for what they actually are would have been ludicrous to our ancestors. Certainly, owning a “magic wand” or “witch’s cauldron” would have brought considerable risk in the days of the persecutions, but most houses would have had staffs, clubs, switches, and other sticks, and of course there was a big black iron pot over the fire. My lantern can be used symbolically, and in spell craft. But it can also be used to light my way in the dark.
I have one of those, you know. Found it at one of the discount stores that deal in leftover merchandise originally offered in the high-end department stores. I also have a staff and the monks cassock. Sometimes things just click like that.
But the Hermit’s lamp first and foremost is the analogue for the wisdom he has gained, the secrets that he has teased out of the dark bosom of the universe during the nigh endless hours of lonely seeking. Because, frankly, the point of wisdom is to pass it on. We are potentially alone on this planet in our ability to communicate our experiences to others in a fashion that expands and extends their value.
While there are a good many creatures that exhibit the ability to pass data instinctively, there are, at least as far as we know, none that can record that data in perpetuity. The monasteries of all faiths seem to affirm the need to chronicle what comes from contemplation, meditation, and isolation. They maintain libraries as a part of their function, and through that we have preserved the collected musings of the ages. It is a sad fact of history that many such libraries were lost to war, disaster, and accident, yet what remains, though meager, is wonderful.
The purpose of the Hermit is therefore not to leave this world, but to know it. This ties card IX to card 0, the Fool. As I stated early, the symbolism of the Fool is that state of Unknowing, that exists in the Unformed. It is that moment of Becoming, that is precipitation by the I withdrawing from the Not I , that is the creation of all. The edge of the cliff the Fool strides toward is where the Universe divides from itself in order to know itself. The death presaged by the card is real. The Universe as it was before will die, and never be again, because as the full plunges over the edge a new Universe begins that has the capacity to be experienced.
Stephanie Law gives us an ethereal and elfin Hermit in her Shadowscapes Tarot. Her mastery of watercolor and deep knowledge of anatomical forms results in unique and wonderful depictions that preserve the spirit of the card, while giving us a gateway into a whole new kind of world. The symbols seem derived from Celtic myth, but walk far closer to the walls of Faerie than something like Wildwood, which is more directly a restatement of Celtic Shamanism. I work frequently with both decks, depending on mood. The Shadowscapes have a kind of music about them, and are far easier to travel into and through.
And here is the Hermit withdrawing from the world, to know himself, and in doing so, to know the greater truth that lies beyond that edge, to return, perhaps to the Unknowing, beyond that event horizon where the original Idea was made form. It is a parallel intention.
While the Fool simply does, and the result becomes the intention, the Hermit intends. I made a distinction earlier between virginity and celibacy. This is exemplified in the relationship between these two cards. Virginity is an initial state of the origin of things, that once lost, may never be again. Innocence cannot be regained. Celibacy or chastity is the result of an intended act of restraint that may be constant or practiced in intervals. While the two can exist together, that is, one can be virginal and also chaste, it is not necessarily required for the chaste to be a virgin.
Virginity is the condition of our beginning. The Fool is the first card. When we reach the Hermit, we are presented with an old man, who we hope is wiser, but is likely no longer innocent. He chooses to be apart from the world because he has known it. Yet this choice makes it all the more present in his mind.
Anyone who has gone on a diet has experienced the stronger craving for something they are forbidden, even though they were not so desirous of it when they could have it. This is what makes the changing of habits difficult.
The Buddhists say that this is why we can’t free ourselves from the desire to be, and return to the nothingness that is. We are no longer the Fool, the Unknowing, and while our objective as the Hermit is to deny it, that denial makes the desire for it even stronger. We can be as celibate as we want, but it doesn’t ever make us a virgin.
So faced with this contradiction, the Hermit re-enlists in the world, at least to the extent that those rays will reach. The light from the Hermit’s Lantern is dim, not because it does not burn brightly, but because, as a consequence of the experience only known to the Hermit, is incredibly difficult to communicate with others who lack his frame of reference.
A final variation on our theme, this from the Ghosts and Spirits Tarot by Lisa Hunt. This deck is certainly one of the most unique ones I have, and not for the faint of heart. The imagery is frequently dark and disturbing, even when expressing images that typically are considered positive in the Tarot literature. It departs significantly from conventional designs. Like Shadowscapes, it offers complex swirling tableaus where faces seem to peer from everywhere. This reflects an animist perspective, but it also signals that we are looking into a world behind the mask of simple mundane reality. The Hermit from the usual card stands here at the rear right of the image, The lantern aloft, the eyes closed in some internal reverie. But the spirit of the Hermit is a sparkling whirlwind in the middle of the wilderness of hidden realm. It is also a realm we can step into, if we are willing to take the risk.
This is why scholars and writers on esoterism and philosophy make a distinction between intelligence and wisdom. We can easily impart facts to one another. We can express that two and two are equal to four, and that four and four are equal to eight. We can explain how to properly conjugate verbs in all the languages of the human race. But when it comes to sharing our insights into the sublime wonders of the Divine our mouths fall silent. Our tongues are still. The words are simply not enough.
The Hermit’s Staff is his knowledge. He leans upon it. It is firm. It is strong. He can hand that Staff to another and it will be unchanged. It will be firm and strong and equally useful, but it is not the Light of the Lantern, with the shape barely visible within it, the simple, but also phenomenal “As above, so below”.
And as without, so within. He lives in the internal world, his eyes downcast. What does he see? What does he not see?
He may be looking toward the path he has climbed. He may be looking at the deepening road before him.
But one thing is certain. He does not, at least, look at the Lantern.
Is it because he has already seen the Light, or is it because the Light is too bright to bear. It stands out from him. It is separated from him, unlike the staff which he holds close to the body. Is this to make it a beacon unto others, or is it because he cannot stand it being too close, because the brightness is a pain and a distraction? Does it light his path, or does it obscure it to his aging gaze?
I can only say that walking along that path myself, there are times when the light is too dim to make anything out, and times when it is too bright to make anything out, and in the end both results are same. You have to put your next foot forward carefully, and hope for the best.
If you are lucky, you won’t step off that cliff.
Join me next week for Fortune’s Wheel and the inexorable turning of the days from spring toward summer. Thank you for your continued patronage.
I had written a different article for this week. It was drenched in downer September thoughts and after the heavy stuff last week, I thought it might be better for all concerned to postpone it for a later publication. Ergo, I am going to do a bit of a review/recommendation article of some of the various occult -ish stores I have visited around the country.
I encourage you to visit, if not these stores, then the one’s in your neighborhood.
Between the ‘zon and B&N and the mad mutant masters of mass market merchandising, one can obtain almost all manner of book, bell, candle, card, crystal, pendulum, mirror, seal, sigil, tablecloth, wall hanging, and T-shirt related to the practice of esoteric beliefs that one wants.
Had I these resources when I was young and living in rural Appalachia with virtually zero access to any of it, I’d not be the person I am today. I think there is a danger to the ease with which we can get the trappings of the craft; a tendency to assume that all the shiny things are both necessary and capable of making the magic work. I have found that neither is true, and like my art, I have often had to make do with less.
Before there was a ‘zon, before there was a B&N, and before there was an internet, there was mail-order, and the mail order catalog from Universal Imports featured all manner of goodies that you can’t get on the ‘zon even today. I never had the money to send off for any of it, but I still have one of the catalogs in my bookshelf. It’s both nostalgic and a reminder of the kind of magic that was being done pre-twitter.
Magic finds us in mysterious ways (as it rightly should). In addition to the things I could imagine I might do with potions and talismans from Miss Anna Riva, I was also fascinated with something called the Necronomicon that was hawked monthly on the back cover of Famous Monsters of Filmland. At the “outrageous” price of fifty late 1970s dollars, it was far beyond my reach, but I was certain if I got it, then I’d be a real sorceror.
If you’re familiar with the book, you know that it might at best be considered a hoax (in the same sense that the 1938 War of The Worlds broadcast is – something of a well intentioned practical joke). It purports to be a “discovered” manuscript of the real work of Abdul Al Hazared, referred to in the fiction of H.P. Lovecraft.
The Necronomicon is a synthesis of many Renaissance grimoires (the Picatrix, the Grand Grimoire, etc. ), borrowing names from the lesser known Sumerian mythology, and giving the usual proscriptions for doing rituals in certain planetary hours using talismans carved under the proper stars on exotic (and impossibly expensive) metals and gems.
Of course if you’re in your teens and you’ve not yet read any Medieval grimoires, it sounds amazingly powerful, Especially when you are primed to talismans and sigils and oils from the Universal Imports catalog.
I went with the considerably less expensive paperback version of the Necronomicon that I found in a mall bookstore along with the Satanic Bible. The latter I have since passed on to someone more interested in that, but I still keep the Necronomicon on the shelf, even though much of it is clearly fictional. And that is because in reading the “history” included in the introduction it mentions the Magical Child Bookshop in New York City.
I went to New York my first year in college, and I was determined to visit this place. It’s gone now, but the fictional bookstore in The Craft and “Ray’s Occult” in the Ghostbuster movies have the bones of it. It rambled through an old house in the East Village, with a wall of herb jars, rows of ritual candles (of the adult kind “wink-wink-nudge nudge”) and all the other paraphernalia we associate with a witch shop. In those days, it was probably one of three or four in the country. I bought a few herbs and incenses that I could afford, and made my way back to the more mundane world I lived in.
There are several more occult shops in New York City today, and doubtless a few that are not easily found on Google. I went to one that was called the successor to the Magical Child, called Enchantments. It’s focused very much on the herb and incense trade, with a somewhat limited selection of other items. At least this was my experience in 2021, when the city was still recovering from the pandemic. During the lock-down, the witches at this store did the best they could to continue supplying local occultists with herbs, incenses and other requirements for their practice. For that alone, they have my respect and my recommendation. That said, it’s not the shiny crystal laden prop shop that some stores are. The atmosphere is thick with the scent of exotic concoctions (made fresh on the premises) and the quarters are close. But the experience is authentic, and the staff, even when busy, acknowledges visitors and is respectful and helpful. You can find them in the East Village:
Among the number of occult shops on Manhattan Island, not to mention the rest of the five boroughs, I am a repeat visitor to the Namaste Bookshop on 14th Street just down from 5th Avenue. It’s tucked into a small storefront, but is chock-full of crystals, cards, books, and altar items. The staff was friendly, helpful, respectful, and seemed to genuinely enjoy being there. If you are looking for Tarot or graven images, this is a good choice. Despite the name, they have a wide selection of items ranging from Egyptian to African to Nordic, Celtic, and other European Pagan. They have a broad offering of crystals and stones as well. They can be found at:
Bookstores in and of themselves can be great resources of occult information. While so many small shops, antiquarian stores and secondhand booksellers have vanished with the rise of the megamall and the broad illiteracy of a web-focused population, I would be remiss if I did not mention and highly recommend that venerable Strand Book Store in Greenwich Village. It’s been there for ages, and despite struggling during the pandemic is still holding on to some of the more expensive real estate in Manhattan. I fear it, too, will go the way of the dinosaur, but in the meantime, you can find this resource of used and antique books on Broadway at:
There are, of course, several other occult shops and book stores in the greater New York area, but these are the one’s I have recent direct experience of, so they are offered here.
A shelf in my library demonstrates the odd sources I have used over the years to collect texts on magic and the occult. A great number of these were from second-hand stores, a few came as review copies, others as book club editions, and a few from modern market purveyors. When possible I buy my witchy books from witchy stores. They carry a broader selection and are more likely to have stock of less widely published tomes.
I visited Salem, Massachusetts for the first time this year. I was in Boston on a semi-business trip and was not going to pass up the chance to see this place so tied into America’s witchcraft history. As you may imagine, there are witch shops everywhere – at least in the touristy section of town. I visited a number of them, and I leave it to the reader to explore on their own, but I will make mention of three that I feel I can recommend.
First up is Pyramid Books, though they have much more than books. The selection of books and cards was amazing, were the stones, and other items, many which were locally made. Having a large collection as I do, I didn’t find a set of Tarot that called to me, but I definitely believe a visit to Salem should include this store. There were a number of things I would like to have had if I were not limited by having to return on a commercial aircraft. Pyramid is on the main street near the wharf, at:
It’s just a short walk from Pyramid Books down to the wharf where you’ll find Enchanted of Salem. This store is affiliated with Laurie Cabot, the Official Witch of Salem. You’ll find a number of her books, magical charms, and related items here. I understand that she does make appearances from time to time, but that was not the case when I was there. It’s a small space, but a friendly one. There are books, cards, crystals, jewelry, and a genuinely interested and supportive staff. As with Pyramid, there was much more I would have purchased if I could have gotten it safely on the plane. I satisfied myself with a deck of Fabio Listrani’s Goetia Tarot, a small silver bell, some jewelry for my wife, and a charm to protect my grandcat Dean. I highly recommend this shop.
If you find yourself at the Witch Trials Memorial -and you should- you will be very near to the third shop I am sharing, Pentagram. Admittedly the “new kids” in town, Pentagram has a good vibe, well stocked shelves of books1 including an anniversary re-issue of the Necronomicon hardcover- now doubled in price , cards, and other necessaries. The staff is helpful and genuinely interested. I did not end up purchasing anything, because, again, my collection is fairly large. The owner and I discussed the difference between today’s mass market and the habit of scouring antiquarian stores where you might have to read a bit of Latin and Greek. I think they are definitely worth a look, especially for the new witch, and as they are right next door to the memorial, you’re going to be there anyway. Check them out at:
Salem is a bit of a mixed bag. I wandered into one souvenir shop that was half an occult store. These are the tip of the iceberg, and there are of course the gift shops at the various museums and experiences, as well as a number of other specifically witchy shops. These three are again, those I have personal experience of and feel good passing on.
Closer to home is another place one might rightly expect to be full of witch shops, and that is New Orleans. My time there is principally spent in the French Quarter, where my wife and I attended an annual writers’ conference until the pandemic (ever shall it be cursed) shut that down. I am hopeful that next year it will resume. Not to be deprived of the experience, I visited there in 2021 on my birthday weekend. The city was something of a ghost town due to COVID, and the shopkeepers were happy to see us. There are several magic shops in the Quarter, and I am sure there are more in the city proper, as well as a number of solo practitioners who offer products direct to clients. New Orleans is synonymous with Voodoo and Hoodoo, though the shops I have visited offer broader options. With so many to choose from, I will focus on a couple that are not perhaps as well known.
A selection of the shiny rocks I purchased for my birthday last year. The majority of these came from Earth Odyssey (below) but a few were picked up in other rock shops in the Quarter. The porphyry mortar and pestle was from a stall in the French Market, just before they closed for the day. If you have a capacity to haggle, you may find some great bargains there.
The first is primarily focused on crystals and stones, and that is Earth Odyssey. It’s a bit hard to find, as it’s nestled in the middle of Chartres Street away from the noise and bars typical of the quarter. They offer polished and raw stones, multiple shapes (spheres, pyramids, obelisks, wands, and mirrors) a selection of locally made jewelry, and a smattering of books and cards. The staff at my visit was made up of the owner and a few long time employees, with enthusiastic young people who found themselves in NOLA temporarily. They were all fabulous to work with, patient, supportive, and knowledgeable. I spent quite a lot, because I found a number of things I’d wanted for a while, and it was, after all, my birthday. They very carefully packed it all for me, as although I usually just drive over to New Orleans, this time we had flown. Everything got back in perfect condition. They are on my “must-visit” list for my next trip. You can explore them here:
If you are looking for a more witchy experience, I definitely recommend Crescent City Conjure for your needs. The store specializes in Voodoo, Hoodoo, and Witchcraft, and is practice focused more than prop focused. That is, you are going to find candles, oils, washes, spell kits, gris-gris bags, and other items from Southern American magic culture. It’s authentic, results oriented, direct magic, about hexing and protecting. While aimed at a practicioner’s market, they staff was courteous and fun with the wide-eyed tourists who wandered in there. It has the New Orleans vibe that way, everyone is welcome at the table. You can come sit at:
A word about the New Orleans experience, (and perhaps about Salem as well). New Orleans has traditionally been a very laid back environment. Despite the horrors of Katrina and the privations of the pandemic, the city’s spirit remains one of relaxed enjoyment of life. With this in mind, don’t expect that shop hours as posted are particularly rigid. Opening at noon can be noon, 12:15, 12:30 or maybe a little after 1:00. Closing may be whenever the shopkeeper gets tired for the day. This is not a disregard for the customer but a dedication to embracing the motto of the city – “laissez les bontemps rouler!” – Let the Good Times Roll.
I also make an annual trip down to Clearwater/Tampa/St. Petersburg in Florida. There are a few little shops in the retirement towns along the coast that I will mention if you ever find yourself in the area. There’s Enchanted Spirit in Dunedin, Florida (it’s pronounced Dun – eden, though my brain keeps reading it as Tolkein’s Dúnedain). It’s a very laid-back shop run by a couple I would guess are semi-retirees. They have a bookshelf with a good assortment, and some Tarot and oracle cards, but the majority of the shop is dedicated to incenses. oils, and stones. I gather reiki and crystal healing are very popular in the area. They have a number of beautiful raw crystals if you have deep enough pockets, but I’m confident you can find a few things in your price range and interests. They can be visited at
Just a few blocks away in this charmingly walkable little town, you’ll find Emelia’s Apothecary. Although the namesake owner sold it just before the pandemic, the new proprietors maintain her focus on natural herbal solutions and homeopathic treatments. You will find a good selection of high quality essential oils. Be prepared to pay a premium for the more exotic ones like neroli, but they stock it. There are also custom-blended lotions, spritzes, and other aromatics for curing what ails you, or at least making for a long relaxing bath. They are located at:
There’s a friendly old tree right outside. Be sure to say hello.
If you drive, or take the trolley a bit further up the coast you will come to Tarpon Springs. Like many towns that had an earlier industry, it has turned it’s old downtown into a walkable shopping area. Here you will find the Healing Hedge Witch, an apothecary with a small selection of stones, books, and cards. I visited them last month and found several items of interest that could easily go home in my checked luggage. The owner was very friendly, and closed the sale by giving me an “intention card”, which had a good message. I thought the practice innovative, and genuine. I will call again.
A very short walk also took me to the Bohemian Gypsea, an eclectic shop spread throughout an old Victorian style house. The exterior yard is filled with potted plants which are also for sale, and the interior is crowded with goods of all sorts. The proprietor offered me tea upon entering. That is unexpected, but set a happy tone. I spent the better part of an hour wandering through the stones and artwork in the back, before continuing upstairs to peruse their offerings of books and cards, and clothing in the Stevie Nicks style. None of it would have looked good on me, of course, but it was a varied selection. I ended up with another set of tree/forest based oracle cards, a tiny deck of RWS Tarot (for my bookshelf witch- who I’ll now have to build a table), and some Tibetan prayer cymbals. As I said, it was a very eclectic shop, and one worth a look. Their address is:
I felt like I was visiting the aunts in Practical Magic.
And finally, closest to home, are those shops that I visit two or three times a year (or more) in the greater Houston metropolitan area, for my local occult fix.
Furthest afield (for me anyway) is the Witchery in Galveston, Texas. Located a couple of blocks off the more promoted Strand district, the Witchery has been there for at least a decade that I know of. The Woods who own and operate it are very customer-oriented, The selection is wide ranging and high quality, including books, cards, stones, crystals, altar ware, and other paraphernalia. If you’re vacationing in Galveston it’s worth a stop. You’ll find them at:
Houston has a number of esoteric shops, and at least two pop-up occult markets. As a melting pot city, we have specialty shops for Eastern medicine, botanica yerberias, Voodoo and Hoodoo, as well as the more general witchy type stores. I’ve been to a lot of them over the years, and am always on the lookout for new ones.
Some that have gotten my recent attention, and money, are nearby in Old Town Spring. You may have heard of it as Hometown Horror on the Travel Channel did a piece on a supposed “cursed doll” at the Doll Hospital.
Like Dunedin and Tarpon Springs in Florida, the original downtown of this Western railstop has re-invented itself as a walkable shopping district with a mix of galleries, restaurants, bars, and boutiques. And among them are several little shops for the strange and unusual.
Let’s start with the Chakra Shop. As you might expect from the name, it’s focus is on spiritual balance and meditation. The wares features are crystals, raw stones, meditation aids, incense, a few books and cards, and jewelry. Yet it is one of those places that I will visit when I am in the area, because I am always treated well, and with respect. The prices are fair, and they offer many services. They are in Gentry Square in the heart of town at:
At the other end of the porch you’ll find Xuxa Mystical Bazaar. It’s an eclectic mix of crystals, herbs, incenses, and statuary, chimes, and singing bowls. This is a second location for Xuxa, and the hours are variable. The shop is small, and there’s a lot of stuff. The operator is helpful, but can get busy assisting people especially if they are compounding herbs.
A bit further down the street you’ll find the Celtic Odyssey Emporium and Spa. The name might tend to confuse, but there’s a good selection of occult items in this old house, including cards, books, clothing, blades, and altar ware. They have a section in the back with old games and toys, as well as costume pieces from Gaelic to steampunk. I typically go for the odd stuff. They offer readings as well. It’s close and sometimes crowded, but very cool.
However, I have to say that my new favorite shop for odd things is Mallott’s Hardware and Variety. Do not let the name fool you. It’s the variety that attracts, and this can include singing bowls, Egyptian statues, incense, crystals, antiques, artwork, and oddities. I spent a significant amount there, and was very pleased to contribute to a local family business who appreciated. The only downside to Mallott’s, is that it is located in the old bank building (be sure to look at the cowboy era vault in the back) and is very small. Because they have a tremendous amount of goods, access to the store is limited to a few people at a time, so during peak hours, you may be waiting on the sidewalk. That’s okay, as they keep a generous amount of incense burning on the sill and there are some items to shop through. The compact and intimate nature of the shop is part of the charm. Just be aware of your surroundings, there’s fragile and breakable stuff everywhere you turn. Like Aladdin’s cave, there’s a tendency to be fascinated by all the treasures. I believe they do offer call – ahead access, as their hours can be flexible.
Recent additions to my strange and unusual items may include items sourced from charity thrift stores (great place to find cursed jewelry) craft and hobby shops, and museum stores. The large singing bowl , Vajra bell , and the little Tibetan prayer wheel to it’s left were found unexpectedly at Mallott’s in Old Town Spring. The thing to remember when purchasing items for your altar or magic space is that it should resonate with you personally, and mean something to your workings. It doesn’t have to be what it says in the book or on the ‘Gram. Power begins when you see the thing on a shelf that you just have to pick up.
And if you do find yourself shopping in Old Town Spring, please visit the numerous restaurants and shops that are more mainstream. The people are very friendly, some of them are friends of mine, and they are grateful for the business people bring to their town.
Well, I hope you found this listing enjoyable and useful, and a pleasant diversion from my usual stuff. Worry not, the creepy and creepier will return as Spooky Season progresses.
And wherever you are, I do encourage you to search out the local purveyors of the weird and wonderful when you do your seasonal shopping. Many of them source product from local artisans and craftspeople. Amazon and B&N don’t need another billion, but that esoteric shop down the street, with only a few unusual clientele, needs to feed their kids, or their cat, or that dark something they have in the attic, and you can make that choice.
-A bit late going live this week. There were some technical issues with the photos below. I wonder if the spirits weren’t willing.
I had planned on this week’s article as being a fluff photo-montage of all things witchy and kitchy from my trip yesterday to Salem, Massachusetts.
That probably would have been the case, but for the maintenance schedule of the trains from Boston, which precipitated my leaving early, arriving early, and finding the majority of shops and attractions in the visitor’s guide being still closed.
I discovered that, much like the shops of the New Orleans French Quarter, the time on the window and the time the proprietor arrives and opens up, may not be as closely connected as one would hope.
This fluidity of lifestyle is part of the charm of places like this, so one learns to adapt. Switching to a more laid-back attitude about time is vitally therapeutic.
I was left with some idle hours to kill. I’d brought my camera along, so I was sure I could find some scenic delights to photograph. I was not disappointed.
As I climbed up the rise on Howard Street toward the tourist part of town, I passed by the Howard Street Cemetery. I snapped several test shots from the road, as the gates were still locked.
I love an interesting graveyard.
I worked in my teens and twenties as caretaker of a large cemetery where my ancestors are interred. My great grandmother had donated the land at some point so that other members of the community might be buried there, but its occupants are still mainly my kith and kin, going back to just after the Revolutionary War (at least as far as we know. Some of the original stones were stones, so it’s not clear when the family first started using that part of our hill side to bury their dead).
Resolving to see if the one on Howard Street was open on my return journey, I made may way on into town. I rambled around the historic buildings that had been relocated next to the old armory which is now a visitor’s center (that was not open on Tuesdays at all -oh well) . Then I ambled toward the sign indicating the Salem Witch Trial Memorial.
One of the shops I was interested in was in that area, I recalled. And I knew I was going to get a look at the memorial, because, well, history and all that. I walked past what I took to be a part of the cemetery wall, saw that cemetery gate was locked, and went looking for another entrance. I rolled all the way around the block , and came back before realizing that this granite rectangle actually was the memorial.
Once I realized it, and realized how the design had been conceived, I took the photos below.
As I made my way around, recording each name, my mood for the day underwent a transformation. What I had expected to be a light touristy kind of experience became something much more profound.
Even though I had read these names many times in my researches on the Salem incident, walking through this memorial brought home to me that these were people. Real, live people, separated from me by hundreds of years, but the same as any one of us. It’s the truest value of places like Salem that it connects us to the human part of history.
These people were murdered for being different.
They were murdered by the civil authority for being different from the rest of the culture.
And that’s all.
While Salem today has a number of practicing witches, there’s little to no evidence that the people killed there in 1692 were actually witches, part of a secret witch conspiracy, or doing anything that could be identified even loosely as witchcraft.
Reports of the Salem incident and three centuries of analysis have blamed it on everything from land disputes to ergot poisoning. We view through the lens of contemporary accounts, who believed, without question, that an evil force was loose among them. The Devil Himself was responsible, and that’s all there was to it.
Left with only their conclusion as to the truth of witchcraft, we are left filling in the gaps, with most explanations dismissing witchcraft entirely (except as a Puritan superstition) .
Yet the accounts (including her confession) say that Tituba, an enslaved African or mixed race woman, had performed divinatory practices with the two young girls whose “fits” were diagnosed as the “bewitchment” that started the entire thing.
Tituba was from the Caribbean originally, so it’s entirely possible that she engaged in some form of voodoo or other practice of African origin. Among the ultra-conservative Puritans, even saying “Bless you” to someone who sneezed might be considered blasphemous.
Anything that didn’t conform to their very narrow interpretation of Christianity was the Work of Satan, especially if it came from someone not quite as white as they all were.
Racism has to considered a cause for the Salem incident. It started with the hateful primitive view of persons of color, as being different, inferior, and ungodly.
If Tituba performed any ritual or act from a Voodoo or Vodun tradition, if she was frustrated and fed up with the two small girls she had been charged with watching briefly, there is little doubt that the Puritan children would have considered themselves in the presence of infernal powers, and their subsequent erratic behavior can be seen as a psychotic reaction to such a terrifying experience.
The tragedy of the Salem incident is that anyone took the ravings of these children seriously. We are talking about a 9 year old and an 11 year old. There were no allegations of actual physical abuse here. It was first and last supernatural. Even during the trials the girls maintained they were being pinched or poked by the accused witches. We are not dealing, at least as far as we can tell, with any actual cases of child abuse or molestation.
So without the Puritan fanaticism, we have no real reason to suspect anyone of witchcraft, beyond perhaps the maid Tituba.
You don’t see her name here. She confessed to performing certain divinatory acts, and performed penance, but was never imprisoned. She assisted in the prosecution of other victims of the hysteria. So while the Puritanical authorities saw her as a sub-human envoy of the Dark One, they also found her useful.
Ultimately we cannot know what drove this small community to commit mass murder of entirely innocent people. We can only know that it is part of our cultural heritage, and sadly, a part of our own culture even now.
We have an unpleasantly easy capacity to persecute those who are different from the majority. I have lived this. And the only difference between me and the community I lived in, was that I thought and acted differently.
Doubtless the people who were victims of the mob in Salem had some characteristic that marked them as non conformist.
The photo below was taken near the Salem wharf as I wandered around waiting for the shops to open. I don’t usually make a point of Pride Month because I resolved a long time ago to treat all people with respect regardless of the day or time.
But it struck me, that we are still capable of persecuting those who are different.
I am happy to have seen so many Pride emblems in Salem, as I know there are as many LGBTQ+ people in the witch community as there are in the arts community I have been part of for most of my life.
But I see that we still have a long way to go as human beings to be worthy or our dominion of the planet,
I came away from Salem changed.
And I am pleased with that. I hadn’t expected that.
But if we are lucky the world teaches us when don’t expect it.
Do to limitations and frustrations with my current web host, I will be moving my web presence to a new provider sometime in the next couple of weeks.
While the actual downtime should not be more than a couple of days, I have postponed this week’s blog post until the transfer is finished. This is in order to focus my time on the process of moving all my domains and insuring that everything is fully functional once on the new host.
I am hoping that this move will provide benefits to me and my readers, and my customers once the webstore is implemented. In the meantime I greatly appreciate your patience and will post when the site is live again.
Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll return to see what we have coming.
If you’re hearing Mick Jagger in your head then we’re off to a good start.
It’s been a long time since I did any kind of update on ye olde “About Me” on the interwebs. Frankly. I always feel a bit ego-centric trying to write that kind of post, but as it sets the proper scene for later discussion, here goes.
Me and Lord Andrew. You guess which is which.
My name is Larry S. Evans II, but you may encounter me on the internet under the nickname “relik” which I have been using since the late 90s or so, when I was a forum admin on the now closed RuntimeDNA.com.
RDNA was a resource for digital 3D models and support for digital artists. By the time I became associated with them, I had been working in digital art for almost a decade. Before that, I was trained as a professional fine art painter. And before that I was painting and drawing and sculpting anyway.
I started at around 4 or 5 years old. But then so does every kid. Most of them don’t start with paintings of a Viking ship being smashed by the Midgard Serpent. I confess that it is entirely possible I saw some such thing on TV (I was very much a TV kid) but I don’t recall it. There are a lot of these odd instances in my life, which probably reinforced my penchant for magic and the occult.
I shan’t give you my birthdate, but it’s fair to say that I lived before humans had walked on the moon, and that I watched that happen. Indeed, I watched all the Apollo missions from beginning to end, and then Skylab, the Apollo-Soyuz mission, and the Space Shuttle program.
It is probably not a coincidence, then, that I live in the greater Houston metroplex, home to NASA’s Mission Control, and designated “Space City USA”. So along with all that occult and magic weirdness, I am something of a mad scientist as well.
I have had the great good fortune to travel extensively and experience things that are rare and wonderful. I have done many of the things I dreamed of as a child in rural Appalchia.
I looked upon the faces of Ramesses and Lenin. I spent days roaming the Louvre and the British Museum. I crawled into the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid. I stood on the battlements of the White Tower, and walked the back hallways of Henry VIII’s palace at Hampton Court. I haunted the alleyways of storied Venice. I swam among the corals and fishes of the Red Sea. I marveled at the glow of the Aurora Borealis as I flew over the pole.
I met so many people in my travels, in shops and bazaars, in cafes and pubs, in hotels and inns and airports and train stations. I delighted in how they were are different, but was constantly struck as to how we were all the same. It is this essential realization that many of my countryfolk do not have, because, sadly, they have never had this opportunity. It is not that travel just broadens the mind, it also redeems the soul.
All of us are a single species, on a very finite planet, parts of which I assure you are uninhabitable without great effort and energy. It is imperative that this species learns how to live with that planet, and with itself, because we seem hellbent on self-destruction.
I grew up in the cold war, a little too late for Duck and Cover but a little too early not to be marked by it. My childhood was imprinted with images of the Vietnam war, the Munich Olympics, and the IRA bombings, along with the persistent threat of world wide nuclear war. Our popular culture was inundated with themes of a post-apocalyptic world, almost always the result of “the bomb:, but occasionally springing from plagues or other monsters of our own creation. It seems we are collectively aware of our suicidal nature. We can find ample evidence in the films of the 1970s and 1980s. And we seem to simply morph the antagonists in light of recent history as we come forward to today.
The consequence of my personal journey across those years, is what I am calling the Sacred Life. That is, to live my own best life. to pursue what I am passionate about, and by living that, to encounter the divine within myself and others.
There is much made of ritual and ceremony. Yet all things are sacred. All actions are ritual. To embrace this elevates your daily meanderings above the mundane. It alleviates that desire to seek purpose and fulfillment because life itself is the purpose and the fulfillment.
So welcome to this, my little corner of the interwebs. I make art. I take photos, sometimes I make movies. Of late I have been learning to make jewelry, and in some respect music. I hope that you will find the content as it evolves worth visiting from time to time. I can only promise that it will be a wide variety, as I am notoriously easily bored, and jump between interests at a fairly brisk pace. Perhaps that will mean that the articles here will satisfy a broader range of appetites.
A final caveat, and that is that the opinions here are my own, and are not meant to exemplify, teach, cajole, coerce, convert, or otherwise have any impact whatsoever. That perhaps, is more egocentric than a biographical sketch, but there it is. I write what I want. You may read it as you wish, that is the only contract here. That said, if you are offended, upset, disgusted, irritated or feel in peril of your mortal soul, please feel free to go elsewhere. Comments will be monitored, and I have full and final authority regarding what is posted. I have no interest in being saved, converted, warned, or preached to, and if that is your intention, go get your own corner of the interwebs where you can hold sway. They’re fairly inexpensive and apparently plentiful.
And with that I thank you for reading, and invite you to return. I am committing to having an article of some sort at least every couple of weeks.
This has been some time in coming. If anyone wants to experience the Dark Arcane Arts they should try and set up a WordPress site (with e-commerce yet) that includes ye modern bells and whistles. It’s been infuriating, and there’s still much to do.
I am posting this while the virtual paint is still drying in case someone may wander in from one of my social media sites. The links to the right will let you follow any you don’t presently (just in case you want to) and there’s also a sign-up for a quarterly newsletter that I will be producing.
I am also setting up my Patreon page, which is not yet ready. To be honest, I’m having a hard time figuring out what I can offer to supporters because so many of my projects are individual one-off art pieces. I’d love to hear suggestions.
I am an artist, writer, jewelry maker, cartoonist, photographer and filmmaker, and learning to be a musician. I am also an occultist and maker of magic, and my work is inspired by, and partakes of, that magical practice. I’ll likely elaborate over time – as it makes sense or the mood strikes. This first post is just to have something other than Hello World and Test Test Test 43 showing up.
I have been trying to work out what goes here, and have had a couple of false starts on other sites. Dragonfly Moon started as being about the jewelry work, but I have connected with so many wonderful people who live in a similar weird world as I do, that I have decided to embrace my strangeness and express it along with the artwork which I hope to have up for sale soon.
The shop section of this site is still in process. I have the software ready, and now need to finish the products, photograph them, and get them loaded. For sale, when completed, will be my jewelry work ($25 and up) art pieces (price as yet undetermined) and maybe – someday – even music.
I have plans for a podcast. Who knows if that will happen? And as I get bored easily there may be ten other projects that pop up here from time to time. Hopefully you’ll find them entertaining. Some material may link back to Digital I Productions which is my business identity.
In the meantime, again, welcome. I hope you’ll come visit regularly.
Larry S. Evans II
Evans is an artist, designer, photographer, filmmaker, and jewelry maker living in the northern suburbs of Houston, Texas with his wife of 32 years, five cats, and an ever growing collection of books, swords, guitars, skulls, and tarot cards.
