| Old Gothic Happenings |
PJ Harvey's White Chalk - 11th December 2007
I've always adored Polly Jean Harvey from the first hearing of 'Sheela na Gig' on John Peel's show
years ago. Each album she produces seems to be completely different from the others, from the
jagged violence of Rid of Me through the demented swamp blues of To Bring You My Love to the
slick pop-rock of Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea. Yet - like Gothic itself - the Corscombe
songstress has maintained a strange unity. In fact, White Chalk, with its tales of brokenness, sorrow
and loss, could be classed as her most completely Gothic work to date.
I've always adored Polly Jean Harvey from the first hearing of 'Sheela na Gig' on John Peel's show
years ago. Each album she produces seems to be completely different from the others, from the
jagged violence of Rid of Me through the demented swamp blues of To Bring You My Love to the
slick pop-rock of Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea. Yet - like Gothic itself - the Corscombe
songstress has maintained a strange unity. In fact, White Chalk, with its tales of brokenness, sorrow
and loss, could be classed as her most completely Gothic work to date.
Apart from the subject matter, three aspects of the album contribute to this impression. For the first
time, in any sustained way, Miss Harvey sings in what she calls her 'church voice', a high, thin wail in
contrast to her usual force and vigour, finally breaking down only in the last bars of the last song, 'The
Mountain', and turning into a mad shriek worthy of the great Diamanda herself. Secondly, there is a
powerful sense of place - the 'white chalk' is the cliffs and hills of the writer's native Dorset, which
obviously means a lot to us here. Thirdly, this album seems weirdly to have been written a century or
more ago: without in any way being pastiche Victoriana, it contains enough antique references -
including the eerie album sleeve so obviously inspired by Victorian photography - to make it a very
Gothic exercise in the revival of an imagined past somehow filtered through the present. I'm not
expressing myself very well, but imagine these songs being sung by a sad girl along a deserted
promenade in Weymouth on a wet October Tuesday about 1900 - as though Graham Greene had
written Thomas Hardy's short stories instead of him. Not an easy listen, this, but an astonishing
exercise in imagination, and self-reinvention.
time, in any sustained way, Miss Harvey sings in what she calls her 'church voice', a high, thin wail in
contrast to her usual force and vigour, finally breaking down only in the last bars of the last song, 'The
Mountain', and turning into a mad shriek worthy of the great Diamanda herself. Secondly, there is a
powerful sense of place - the 'white chalk' is the cliffs and hills of the writer's native Dorset, which
obviously means a lot to us here. Thirdly, this album seems weirdly to have been written a century or
more ago: without in any way being pastiche Victoriana, it contains enough antique references -
including the eerie album sleeve so obviously inspired by Victorian photography - to make it a very
Gothic exercise in the revival of an imagined past somehow filtered through the present. I'm not
expressing myself very well, but imagine these songs being sung by a sad girl along a deserted
promenade in Weymouth on a wet October Tuesday about 1900 - as though Graham Greene had
written Thomas Hardy's short stories instead of him. Not an easy listen, this, but an astonishing
exercise in imagination, and self-reinvention.
Gothic Homemaking - 25th November 2007
Two recent additions to my interior fittings are the lady to the left and
the skeletal gentleman to the right. She is a plaster copy of Raphael
Monti's mid-Victorian sculpture 'The Veiled Bride', which I purchased
from a lady whose daughter insisted the bust be removed as far from
the house as possible and turned her to the wall whenever she could. I
think she's delightfully creepy, and have put her on the lavatory
windowsill to replace Aswell, the Lady's camel skull which has now
gone to live with her. He is a ceremonial fly-whisk made for a
the skeletal gentleman to the right. She is a plaster copy of Raphael
Monti's mid-Victorian sculpture 'The Veiled Bride', which I purchased
from a lady whose daughter insisted the bust be removed as far from
the house as possible and turned her to the wall whenever she could. I
think she's delightfully creepy, and have put her on the lavatory
windowsill to replace Aswell, the Lady's camel skull which has now
gone to live with her. He is a ceremonial fly-whisk made for a
chief of the Khwose people of eastern Zambia, and found his way to
an antique shop in Shrewsbury, where I found him. I think he's rather
cute, but did say a quick prayer over him just in case.
an antique shop in Shrewsbury, where I found him. I think he's rather
cute, but did say a quick prayer over him just in case.
Useful Advice from The Chap - 15th September 2007
The Chap magazine is, as we know, a splendid if completely demented
journal dedicated to restoring British society through cufflinks, cravats,
and tea. We have become aware of a curious but becoming overlap of
gentleman Goths and devotees of The Chap; and from the latest number
comes this useful item on erecting your own Gothic folly. From 'Choose
a large, flat area in the grounds of your estate' to 'kill everyone who
assisted you with construction, including the priest and the goat', via
important milestones in the process such as 'employ 56 art students to
paint your fresco of the Rape of the Sabines' and 'insert your ossuary',
this advice is indispensable to modern Gothic living.
The Chap can be located here.
journal dedicated to restoring British society through cufflinks, cravats,
and tea. We have become aware of a curious but becoming overlap of
gentleman Goths and devotees of The Chap; and from the latest number
comes this useful item on erecting your own Gothic folly. From 'Choose
a large, flat area in the grounds of your estate' to 'kill everyone who
assisted you with construction, including the priest and the goat', via
important milestones in the process such as 'employ 56 art students to
paint your fresco of the Rape of the Sabines' and 'insert your ossuary',
this advice is indispensable to modern Gothic living.
The Chap can be located here.
The Museo 'La Specola', Florence, Italy -
20th April 2007
In 1775 the Grand Duke of Tuscany ordered the opening of a museum of zoology and natural history in
Florence. The first director, Felice Fontana, began a collection of anatomical wax specimens for the
instruction of the city's medical students. 232 years later, we arrived for a look around.
Most of the museum - reached up an endless series of stone staircases, they don't go in for
disabled-access much - consists of rooms full of dusty and frankly rather motheaten-looking zoological
specimens in cases, all very well, but nothing particularly striking. Then, at the end, this - an incredible
collection modelling in wax organs, bones, muscle systems, a very strange set of tableaux by one
Gaetano Zembu of Sicily - and most dramatically a number of full-size human forms, in various stages
20th April 2007
In 1775 the Grand Duke of Tuscany ordered the opening of a museum of zoology and natural history in
Florence. The first director, Felice Fontana, began a collection of anatomical wax specimens for the
instruction of the city's medical students. 232 years later, we arrived for a look around.
Most of the museum - reached up an endless series of stone staircases, they don't go in for
disabled-access much - consists of rooms full of dusty and frankly rather motheaten-looking zoological
specimens in cases, all very well, but nothing particularly striking. Then, at the end, this - an incredible
collection modelling in wax organs, bones, muscle systems, a very strange set of tableaux by one
Gaetano Zembu of Sicily - and most dramatically a number of full-size human forms, in various stages
of dissection and languorous poses. The standard of the modelling is breathtaking. Every tiny vein,
artery, and nerve delineated in wax up to three centuries old. These figures are beautiful - and also
slightly disturbing, not just because anatomy is intrinsically a bloody business and is here presented so
delicately, but because some of the models look at you with an almost imploring gaze; and in some cases
the languor has a hint of the erotic about it, not a complete surprise considering the similarlity there was
in the 16- and 1700s between anatomical and erotic art. To find this in a city so chock-full of
devastatingly grand architecture and art reminds you that at the centre of all that productive energy is the
human being - a frail thing of flesh and sinew. Astonishing, and humbling.
Click here for more about the Museo La Specola.
artery, and nerve delineated in wax up to three centuries old. These figures are beautiful - and also
slightly disturbing, not just because anatomy is intrinsically a bloody business and is here presented so
delicately, but because some of the models look at you with an almost imploring gaze; and in some cases
the languor has a hint of the erotic about it, not a complete surprise considering the similarlity there was
in the 16- and 1700s between anatomical and erotic art. To find this in a city so chock-full of
devastatingly grand architecture and art reminds you that at the centre of all that productive energy is the
human being - a frail thing of flesh and sinew. Astonishing, and humbling.
Click here for more about the Museo La Specola.
Discovering the Stolen Babies, April 2007
It's immensely exciting to stumble across musicians you've never encountered before that ring all the right bells, a pleasure increased if not very
many other people have done the same. I remember hearing PJ Harvey playing her first session for John Peel in 1991; finding Diamanda
Galas'sYou Must Be Certain of the Devil in a record shop in Oxford; pausing the credits on Plunkett & Maclean together with my sister to find
out who was producing that carnivalesque shrieking on the soundtrack (it was the Tiger Lillies); and our friend Maurice playing us the Dresden
Dolls. This year, it's happened again.
www.allmusic.com cited the Stolen Babies as a 'similar' band to the Dresden Dolls, so I looked them up. They aren't in any way like them,
other than being similarly unclassifiable, but you come to expect that. Anyway, I was sufficiently taken by the little snippets of music I found on
the magic Web that I ordered their album, There Be Squabbles Ahead, and, it having arrived, spent forty-five minutes laughing almost solidly. So
much 'Goth' music (if there can be said to be such a thing) is produced by po-faced would-be lost souls with a sense of self-importance in
inverse proportion to their imagination or ability. Not this. This is fun. I can't recall a band whose output contains as much traditional shouty
thrash-Goth which has quite such a sense of humour, from the jaunty Burtonesque visuals to the musical style, for which 'eclectic' is not a
sufficient word. Just when you think you have a track pinned down in terms of genre and mood, the Babies get bored and in comes the
accordion. Or the tuba, or trumpet, euphonium, sitar, stroviol (I never expected to see that instrument in any band's sleeve notes), or, as they
admit, 'electric guitar wankage'. It's just so funny. 'Lifeless' is the only song which strikes a classically miserabilist Goth tone, and it works very
well in that vein; alongside it you get such wonders as 'Swint? Or Slude?', which could have emerged from a wandering troupe of ghostly
klezmer performers looking for a lost fairground. No, this is not the Dresden Dolls, whose sense of fun is anchored in real sentiment and rage. It
isn't the Tiger Lillies, who while you're wondering what depths of depravity they can plumb next, can twist your anxieties with a sad ballade. The
Stolen Babies appear to be driven by nothing deeper than the desire to amuse: thankfully they seem to have the talent to bring it off. Absolutely
splendid: completely superficial, but what a dazzling surface. Two questions: when will they come to Britain, and what's next?
It's immensely exciting to stumble across musicians you've never encountered before that ring all the right bells, a pleasure increased if not very
many other people have done the same. I remember hearing PJ Harvey playing her first session for John Peel in 1991; finding Diamanda
Galas'sYou Must Be Certain of the Devil in a record shop in Oxford; pausing the credits on Plunkett & Maclean together with my sister to find
out who was producing that carnivalesque shrieking on the soundtrack (it was the Tiger Lillies); and our friend Maurice playing us the Dresden
Dolls. This year, it's happened again.
www.allmusic.com cited the Stolen Babies as a 'similar' band to the Dresden Dolls, so I looked them up. They aren't in any way like them,
other than being similarly unclassifiable, but you come to expect that. Anyway, I was sufficiently taken by the little snippets of music I found on
the magic Web that I ordered their album, There Be Squabbles Ahead, and, it having arrived, spent forty-five minutes laughing almost solidly. So
much 'Goth' music (if there can be said to be such a thing) is produced by po-faced would-be lost souls with a sense of self-importance in
inverse proportion to their imagination or ability. Not this. This is fun. I can't recall a band whose output contains as much traditional shouty
thrash-Goth which has quite such a sense of humour, from the jaunty Burtonesque visuals to the musical style, for which 'eclectic' is not a
sufficient word. Just when you think you have a track pinned down in terms of genre and mood, the Babies get bored and in comes the
accordion. Or the tuba, or trumpet, euphonium, sitar, stroviol (I never expected to see that instrument in any band's sleeve notes), or, as they
admit, 'electric guitar wankage'. It's just so funny. 'Lifeless' is the only song which strikes a classically miserabilist Goth tone, and it works very
well in that vein; alongside it you get such wonders as 'Swint? Or Slude?', which could have emerged from a wandering troupe of ghostly
klezmer performers looking for a lost fairground. No, this is not the Dresden Dolls, whose sense of fun is anchored in real sentiment and rage. It
isn't the Tiger Lillies, who while you're wondering what depths of depravity they can plumb next, can twist your anxieties with a sad ballade. The
Stolen Babies appear to be driven by nothing deeper than the desire to amuse: thankfully they seem to have the talent to bring it off. Absolutely
splendid: completely superficial, but what a dazzling surface. Two questions: when will they come to Britain, and what's next?
The Dresden Dolls, The Roundhouse, Camden, 3rd November 2006
At last, we actually managed to get out to hear a recognisably Gothic band ... albeit thanks to a chum buying us
tickets as a joint birthday present. The Roundhouse, a converted rail turntable, is a wonderful venue with an
ad-hoc atmosphere that makes it feel as though you're doing something undefinably dangerous and edgy rather
than just watching a band. Actually, we could quite happily have done without some of the edgier bits of this
show, namely the Australian avant-garde dance troupe, and the compere Margaret Cho thanks to whom we
won't be able to look at Chinese women in quite the same way again for some time to come. But one of the
warm-ups, Jason Webley, provided a set of jauntily gloomstruck tunes on the accordion which we much
enjoyed.
At last, we actually managed to get out to hear a recognisably Gothic band ... albeit thanks to a chum buying us
tickets as a joint birthday present. The Roundhouse, a converted rail turntable, is a wonderful venue with an
ad-hoc atmosphere that makes it feel as though you're doing something undefinably dangerous and edgy rather
than just watching a band. Actually, we could quite happily have done without some of the edgier bits of this
show, namely the Australian avant-garde dance troupe, and the compere Margaret Cho thanks to whom we
won't be able to look at Chinese women in quite the same way again for some time to come. But one of the
warm-ups, Jason Webley, provided a set of jauntily gloomstruck tunes on the accordion which we much
enjoyed.
Now, from the first few bars of an unremembered but dramatic Dolls
track played for us by our chum, I thought they were the most
captivating and original sound I'd heard since stumbling across the
Tiger Lillies years ago, and the live performance matched that
impression. The opinion was voiced that the songs were a little samey,
but with only piano and drums to work with that shouldn't be too
much of a surprise. Instead what's impressive is more the overall
sound - that anyone should think to combine piano and drums at all is
remarkable enough, notwithstanding the occasional appearance of a
guitar. They do punish their instruments, and no wonder that by the
end of the encore - which was less an encore, and more a second half
- Amanda Palmer's voice was beginning to give out. If there was a
highlight to pick out, it was the (first) finale - 'Sing', a wonderful
melodramatic and quite poignant track which seemed to finish the
whole evening off beautifully. Then the encore started. And a
spectacular acrobatic act thrown in for fun.
track played for us by our chum, I thought they were the most
captivating and original sound I'd heard since stumbling across the
Tiger Lillies years ago, and the live performance matched that
impression. The opinion was voiced that the songs were a little samey,
but with only piano and drums to work with that shouldn't be too
much of a surprise. Instead what's impressive is more the overall
sound - that anyone should think to combine piano and drums at all is
remarkable enough, notwithstanding the occasional appearance of a
guitar. They do punish their instruments, and no wonder that by the
end of the encore - which was less an encore, and more a second half
- Amanda Palmer's voice was beginning to give out. If there was a
highlight to pick out, it was the (first) finale - 'Sing', a wonderful
melodramatic and quite poignant track which seemed to finish the
whole evening off beautifully. Then the encore started. And a
spectacular acrobatic act thrown in for fun.
Jason Webley and interloping
photographer
photographer
| Amanda Palmer being uncharacteristically quiet, and Brian Viglione foraying into guitar work |
Girl dangles dramatically from
ribbon
ribbon
Gothic Nightmares - exhibition at the Tate Gallery, London,
22nd April 2006
One of the Tate's blockbuster exhibitions this year focused on Gothic. Marvellous!
We attended on a Saturday when it wasn't overrun with visitors and thought it was
quite splendid. The subtitle was 'Fuseli, Blake and the Romantic Imagination',
though Blake was largely an afterthought, represented by bookplates and so on
which shrank in the face of Fuseli's blazing theatrics: instead 'Fuseli and Friends'
would have been a more representative title. What the show did was demonstrate
how Fuseli - and Blake, despite his eccentricities - was part of an artistic
continuum, not an isolated genius whatever he might have liked people to imagine.
It also showed the connections between art, pop literature and entertainment (we
much enjoyed the 'Gothic Gloomth' room with its fake books in the dim centre of
the room, the raucous satire of Gillray, and loved the unexpectedly spooky
Phantasmagoria). What you had to do was keep your head, and remember that all
this stuff was largely crap. Glorious, flashy and tremendous crap, but crap all the
same. Forget that, and the swooning maidens, muscular Classical heroes, feys and
witches become overwhelmingly wearisome.
The exhibition is now closed, but you can still find out more by clicking the image
...
22nd April 2006
One of the Tate's blockbuster exhibitions this year focused on Gothic. Marvellous!
We attended on a Saturday when it wasn't overrun with visitors and thought it was
quite splendid. The subtitle was 'Fuseli, Blake and the Romantic Imagination',
though Blake was largely an afterthought, represented by bookplates and so on
which shrank in the face of Fuseli's blazing theatrics: instead 'Fuseli and Friends'
would have been a more representative title. What the show did was demonstrate
how Fuseli - and Blake, despite his eccentricities - was part of an artistic
continuum, not an isolated genius whatever he might have liked people to imagine.
It also showed the connections between art, pop literature and entertainment (we
much enjoyed the 'Gothic Gloomth' room with its fake books in the dim centre of
the room, the raucous satire of Gillray, and loved the unexpectedly spooky
Phantasmagoria). What you had to do was keep your head, and remember that all
this stuff was largely crap. Glorious, flashy and tremendous crap, but crap all the
same. Forget that, and the swooning maidens, muscular Classical heroes, feys and
witches become overwhelmingly wearisome.
The exhibition is now closed, but you can still find out more by clicking the image
...
Edward Scissorhands at the Ambassadors Theatre, Woking, 31st March
2006
Would Tim Burton's creepily touching Gothic fairy-tale film from 1990 starring Johnny Depp and
Winona Ryder translate to a ballet at the hands of acclaimed director Matthew Bourne? We thought it
did. The choreography was splendid, so precisely defining the various characters; even if a few of the
youngsters were fairly interchangeable - and the music, a lot of which was based on Danny Elfman's
original score for the movie, swept up and down with a great sense of fun. The sets were hugely
inventive, and we were very impressed with some of the remarkably filmic effects, such as the
cheerleader portraits 'coming to life' in Edward's dream sequence. Amazing what you can do with
sheets of painted gauze! A massively enjoyable evening.
Check here for the ballet's tour dates and more information.
2006
Would Tim Burton's creepily touching Gothic fairy-tale film from 1990 starring Johnny Depp and
Winona Ryder translate to a ballet at the hands of acclaimed director Matthew Bourne? We thought it
did. The choreography was splendid, so precisely defining the various characters; even if a few of the
youngsters were fairly interchangeable - and the music, a lot of which was based on Danny Elfman's
original score for the movie, swept up and down with a great sense of fun. The sets were hugely
inventive, and we were very impressed with some of the remarkably filmic effects, such as the
cheerleader portraits 'coming to life' in Edward's dream sequence. Amazing what you can do with
sheets of painted gauze! A massively enjoyable evening.
Check here for the ballet's tour dates and more information.
Seeing is Believing, at the Photographers' Gallery - 17th January 2008
A bizarre show at a bizarre little gallery: a gallery split into two, in fact, which led me originally to go to the
wrong bit. The hook which got me here was the chance to see some of Harry Price's snaps. The great
paranormal investigator of the 1920s and 30s turned the light of science onto ghosts and mediums - often in the
form of flash photographs. In fact, apart from a couple of the famous images, including the ghost before the
altar of St Nicholas', Arundel, they're unemotional and often unintentionally comic: a medium slumped against a
table, 'Mrs Wilkins emitting ectoplasm', that sort of thing. The modern work forms a commentary on all
A bizarre show at a bizarre little gallery: a gallery split into two, in fact, which led me originally to go to the
wrong bit. The hook which got me here was the chance to see some of Harry Price's snaps. The great
paranormal investigator of the 1920s and 30s turned the light of science onto ghosts and mediums - often in the
form of flash photographs. In fact, apart from a couple of the famous images, including the ghost before the
altar of St Nicholas', Arundel, they're unemotional and often unintentionally comic: a medium slumped against a
table, 'Mrs Wilkins emitting ectoplasm', that sort of thing. The modern work forms a commentary on all
attempts to prove the existence of an occult world through photography. Only Tim Maul takes it seriously,
snapping bits of New York where a psychic has detected 'presences'; those photos are remarkably
unremarkable. Otherwise we get Ben Judd's lovely modern stereoscope pictures of a friend in everyday
landscapes with rocks and bits cavorting around her, and more jokeyness, with much chewing of cheesecloth.
None of it beyond Mr Maul's images feels eerie, I must say: this is the uncanny as comedy.
snapping bits of New York where a psychic has detected 'presences'; those photos are remarkably
unremarkable. Otherwise we get Ben Judd's lovely modern stereoscope pictures of a friend in everyday
landscapes with rocks and bits cavorting around her, and more jokeyness, with much chewing of cheesecloth.
None of it beyond Mr Maul's images feels eerie, I must say: this is the uncanny as comedy.
thirty years of punk, post-punk, goth, glam, and all the generic flirtations of the Banshees and the
Creatures poured into forty minutes of glittering, intelligent, and fun pop. Siouxsie's wonderful
blood-down-a-drainpipe voice has only deepened with time and now glows. Yes, some of the
lyrics fall in leaden clumps, and I find the single, 'Into A Swan', almost completely vitiated by its
lyrical ineptness and repetition - but then both Banshees and Creatures always released the worst
track on the album as the single too, so this is just keeping up a grand tradition. But do many
artists of Siouxsie's stature emerge the far side of 50 and still produce so many delicious
surprises as Mantaray offers? We suspect few.
Creatures poured into forty minutes of glittering, intelligent, and fun pop. Siouxsie's wonderful
blood-down-a-drainpipe voice has only deepened with time and now glows. Yes, some of the
lyrics fall in leaden clumps, and I find the single, 'Into A Swan', almost completely vitiated by its
lyrical ineptness and repetition - but then both Banshees and Creatures always released the worst
track on the album as the single too, so this is just keeping up a grand tradition. But do many
artists of Siouxsie's stature emerge the far side of 50 and still produce so many delicious
surprises as Mantaray offers? We suspect few.
Siouxsie Sioux's first solo album 'Mantaray' 17th January 2008
I often wonder whether Siouxsie can be accommodated within the Goth spectrum now, if
indeed she and the Banshees ever could. Mantaray hasn't helped me decide, but it shouldn't
matter. She's still being played at Goth events, so that's probably enough.
Mantaray is Siouxsie's first solo venture and plenty of commentators have done a lot of work
trying to read her recent history into the music, which, as usual, is the least interesting question.
The album is in fact a tremendously assured, confident statement of the girl's indomitability:
I often wonder whether Siouxsie can be accommodated within the Goth spectrum now, if
indeed she and the Banshees ever could. Mantaray hasn't helped me decide, but it shouldn't
matter. She's still being played at Goth events, so that's probably enough.
Mantaray is Siouxsie's first solo venture and plenty of commentators have done a lot of work
trying to read her recent history into the music, which, as usual, is the least interesting question.
The album is in fact a tremendously assured, confident statement of the girl's indomitability:
Mystery Folly - 17th January 2008
I often end up where I shouldn't be. Out wandering the hills near
Wotton, Surrey, looking for a well, I spotted a tiny dot on the
map with beside it the single word 'Tower'. Not in Gothic script
or anything else to indicate a monument. As the sky turned black
and the rain pelted I toiled up to the hilltop and found something I
never expected.
There's a line of wall behind a fence - a sham ruin of stone and
arches. Of course you shouldn't go in, and of course I did. I'd
suffered enough not to investigate the vague and massive shape I
glimpsed through the pouring trees. And it is, indeed, a tower,
like a small and swallowed version of Clavell's Tower at
Kimmeridge - only twenty feet or so high, and enough space
inside for a winding stair and possibly an internal floor. A plaque
in the ceiling reads 'ND 1924', hardly the most popular era for
building Gothic follies; but apart from an indistinct image at the
tower's top (a knight on horseback, or perhaps not) nothing else
gives a clue to its history.
I often end up where I shouldn't be. Out wandering the hills near
Wotton, Surrey, looking for a well, I spotted a tiny dot on the
map with beside it the single word 'Tower'. Not in Gothic script
or anything else to indicate a monument. As the sky turned black
and the rain pelted I toiled up to the hilltop and found something I
never expected.
There's a line of wall behind a fence - a sham ruin of stone and
arches. Of course you shouldn't go in, and of course I did. I'd
suffered enough not to investigate the vague and massive shape I
glimpsed through the pouring trees. And it is, indeed, a tower,
like a small and swallowed version of Clavell's Tower at
Kimmeridge - only twenty feet or so high, and enough space
inside for a winding stair and possibly an internal floor. A plaque
in the ceiling reads 'ND 1924', hardly the most popular era for
building Gothic follies; but apart from an indistinct image at the
tower's top (a knight on horseback, or perhaps not) nothing else
gives a clue to its history.
Myspace Musical Wanderings - February 2008
I've finally completed my Myspace trawl of self-described Gothic
artistes. More here.
I've finally completed my Myspace trawl of self-described Gothic
artistes. More here.
Accessories for the Gothic
Gentleman - 13th March 2008
I am having a terrible time buying things
from eBay at the moment, and my debit
card wants a rest. It's not all faded
engravings and ecclesiastical tat: here are
two, or four depending how you interpret
things, of the latest purchases, lovely sets
of coffin and spiderweb cufflinks in bright
silver. The coffins open to reveal a
skeleton, and the spiders rattle around the
web in search of the fly at the centre!
The shop which supplied these delightful
items is Stuart Sinclair Silverware.
Gentleman - 13th March 2008
I am having a terrible time buying things
from eBay at the moment, and my debit
card wants a rest. It's not all faded
engravings and ecclesiastical tat: here are
two, or four depending how you interpret
things, of the latest purchases, lovely sets
of coffin and spiderweb cufflinks in bright
silver. The coffins open to reveal a
skeleton, and the spiders rattle around the
web in search of the fly at the centre!
The shop which supplied these delightful
items is Stuart Sinclair Silverware.
Chobham Gothic, March 2008
In 18th-century monuments and art you often find putti, which are like cherubs, only without a body
- happy little chubby baby faces fluttering about on wings. Chobham Church in Surrey, we
discovered, has a variant on this theme we hadn't seen elsewhere. And for some reason they are
peculiarly shudderworthy.
In 18th-century monuments and art you often find putti, which are like cherubs, only without a body
- happy little chubby baby faces fluttering about on wings. Chobham Church in Surrey, we
discovered, has a variant on this theme we hadn't seen elsewhere. And for some reason they are
peculiarly shudderworthy.
