Monday, November 26, 2012

Flight




'beneath the pale sun ,the trees are trembling, the most cherished loyal friends which I enjoyed the sight of ,are now rattling like bones ,and the spectral outline of the birch resembles an hand ,raising from Hel striving to drag me down under.. . the woods which I enjoyed the warm embrace at night, fill me with dread and the voices in the wind are warning me not to get close ….be careful for what you wish for sweet child of mine …The wild hunt swings the doors of my dreams wide open as my spirit soars to join my kin and the screaming herd …the smell of the sweaty horse, His balmy flesh warmly woven into mine, the cacophony of the winds and the icy cold air fill my lungs with Life.. Herself, covered in nightmares leads the way to the blackened skies …towards the mountain of Lilies where the scent are overwhelming my senses, where release will be gained…hold tight dear child, hold tight …below is the worlds of nightmares, below is the world of lies, below is the pale illusions which fill the eyes of your peers with shiny pink plastic steps..You won’t go far my children with your eyes open; you won’t reach above, wide open to a world which has nothing to offer …close your eyes and See …
fff
isabelle
                                                            Frenzy of Exultation
                                                                       1894
 

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

A calling



This is an old entry from my journal , apologies for those who have read this before ....

Let me tell you a story , a very familiar story , which even though you have heard it all before so many times , it keeps on amazing me and rekindle the Wonder ,so allow me to narrate … I recently moved in this little village in the middle of nowhere in the west of Ireland , the reason why I ended up here , I do not know  , could it be the sheer beauty of the place , the lake , the woods , the sense of Place ,a simpler life away from the busy towns ,or could it be the proximity of an early Gnostic monk monastery on the Holy Island nearby and its Round Tower reminiscent of the Qutub , the intimacy of its location too far from everywhere of ‘importance ‘ yet at equal distance to the nearest towns if you choose to avail of its services .. the sense of arriving home , once more … the kind of place which will embrace you or just spit you out …it called me and I had no choice .from the moment I arrived here , a chain reaction of ‘events ‘ unfolded …nothing too strange here really …
Right in the centre of this little village one can visit  a park , the Aistear Project ( journey in Irish ) , Thomas Berry described  the Aistear project as …‘an effort to bring the human and the universe into an immediacy with each other ‘…a project  instigated 20 years ago , when the all community followed their ‘vision ‘ and got together to create  this monumental  gem of a place .The project consists of a maze, a labyrinth and a performance area in the shape of a vesica Pisces...
Recently I decided to show and walk the maze with a dear friend, who was visiting, we started with the labyrinth only to discover at its very heart  a red rose blooming in Her glory ,defiant to the frost and enveloping chilly air. We proceeded to enter the maze, starting the pilgrimage which would walk us through the 7 chambers, which we found ourselves walking widdershins, again nothing strange here; the place was taking charge, sure why not... I will spare you most of what was revealed along the ‘journey ‘, clues scattered along …the spirals, the hammer  ...The stars, the Tau cross, the Plough...the Lilies , the air was charged , the place was  opening  up like a flowers revealing wonders , hidden in plain sight .. (I had walked the maze many times with my daughter and a multitude of people but never reach such an intensity)…until we arrived at the 5th chamber …and looked...there was a yew tree and a decorated high Cross depicting scenes of the crucifixion with the two ‘thieves’ on either side of Christ and the Holy Women and St. John at his feet.  The top panel of the shaft depicts Adam and Eve and the Tree of Life and below that Cain and Abel .There someone, a child maybe, had left on the bench a small worn laminated picture of a Wren...it left us speechless at first, both at once dazzled by the Mystery revealed, the simplicity of it all …I did buy since then the book written after the making of this place …inside there is a dedication.. ’this book is dedicated to all those who believed.’...

I do believe that this place created itself, the Force, the Stream finding the way, an expression through Form, creativity, to Life against the Lie. A Catalyst for this community who would run away in horror if words like witchcraft, Stream, Lucifer would be uttered to them. In this instance I know that the Blood spoke to Me , I do not have the delusion to have been 'chosen' to be the sole ‘guardian’ or this place ; this Flow , this Stream does not Need me to find expression , I am a simple woman trying to make sense of her own thoughts and life most of the time ,however I am aware of the responsibility given when that Link reflected in me whether or not I was aware of their existence before they came to call . This 'at all cost should be protected’, like so many did before, this is the Gift, Gebo, the sacrifice which has to be made.
That day we had gain a right of ingress congress and egress…I walked the maze and came out transformed. Now I KNOW why I moved here. I am at peace …for a while.
fff
Isabelle

“At each point you are reminded that other people have travelled, other people have had spiritual beliefs, other people have engaged in pilgrimages in the past and you are part of a very long continuum of human behaviour, a search to understand ourselves in the cosmos, in the Universe we live in.”  Dr. Eoin Grogan (2005)

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Awake



There is no secret in the world that cannot be discovered if the recipient is ready to listen to it, since the very Air itself carries memory and knowledge." - Robert Cochrane



‘Awake’!
A voice calls in from the velvety depths of the hours of darkness pulling me out of the oneric realms where the world makes sense.
‘Awake’!
Once more I am being torn from the beautiful warmth of my lover.
‘Awake’!
The Lady is calling and demands me to watch her bathe in the dew as the Light rises in the eastern sky .

As I sit alone in the darkness of the kitchen gently rocked by the humming purr of the cat my senses are wakening one by one by the odorific familiarity of my daily caffeinated delight.  I cannot help but reflect on the glimpses of last night …one by one they walked through the door, the friend, the wife, the joker, the fisherman, the butcher, the blacksmith, the painter, the dog lover and man hater..All to sit in their respective corners or places in the warmth of the Queen Bee’s den. What brings them all here …the beer and the sweet influence it has on their moods …certainly...or maybe it is the calling of family, this nagging desire to connect, to talk, to feel the embrace and warmth of her bosom. The landlady is charming and her smile is soft, behind her eyes, only seen by those who really know how to Look, sadness resides of a life sacrificed for others and that her bed shall remain cold and empty of the warmth of a loved one; nevertheless she does her duty well and feeds her children the ambrosia which will bring them the sleep, the forgetfulness they desire. As the conversation enflames I suddenly find myself floating above the crowd...oh here we go again...I just drift off from the soft embrace of the communal joviality to heed a familiar voice …’remember where you come from’ she whispers …I do not know the answer to this, French by blood, Irish by heart I always felt apart, aside from my peers, a wanderer who craves for Home and who is still searching. This land has tried to claim me, sovereignty reigns high in this parts and her grip is firm. She called me 20 years ago and I came, IN FATE  I was, and I recognised the pattern of wyrd to follow, however the winds whisper and sometimes howl  of an-Other, a calling  felt on a cellular level…as my brothers and sisters of the Arte  rejoice in the circular dance and the seasonal tides and changes, my eyes, my gaze, my core, my blood spirals to the stars …another attempt to recover the keys to unlock my soul to a deeper understanding of itself... A lone pilgrim I have become preferring the company of the winds over the opiatic reassurance of those who brought joy but also distraction to the work …

‘Are you aright love?’
The sad eyes and the gentle smile brought me back to the teasing company of my chosen family and friends; I shall come back to the Dance and enjoy Creation engendered BY and THROUGH life … always mindful of a part of me that listens to the winds howling outside inviting me to the depths of the wintery darkness
‘I am waiting’ He murmurs …

In Fate I am
fff
Isabelle


“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.”
Edward Abbey

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Covers



Part of my practise as a visual artist, I was asked a few years back to provide covers for an Irish pagan magazine, after a few trials and errors, mostly working on a digital format after so many years working solely  with canvases and paint , I can finally be confident and delighted  to show some of the works I produced .. Here is a little selection of my most favourite covers. Please note that this work is under copyright and that none of my work shall be reproduced or used without my permission .