http://www.martinbladh.com/ 2018-01-19 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5928668536ffe3e930961da84aecb6d3_hd.jpg http://www.martinbladh.com/collage-mixed-media 2024-11-23 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cd58fd44c7af239e55991ad888ed3389_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b94e0304a160b6883475708a13d7677d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/32cb5463d3e64da69896cb3ea66b4be5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5481a608111e02ba6c05d8cc377a6ac6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cf531eef1f581a6f85a7f71de3f4e01b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f7fe849122feff9fa0dde430fce33aad_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/6faf4f66d11b70b89ac1077b599783a5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/72a2748652ed918a4b5b84e636825ed5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5eb95c94de9935b6b1d428d11f7b22c4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9df65afa5f461e6b8f33c2518c0b0ab6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0120fef51fb91b65df67c6b6c872be66_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5a58c72519df5feb08a9e088b95d5c12_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ed704ec3f564cc8360403e6c9d1b67db_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d3a94242ed65766f02561af065788020_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7e3188d7a019fa720b17afd2b61723ad_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ff84fe82c317c55d7937021c9be25917_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b1af2eb9d9703291707b1cbea66ec3d6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/20ffc159cb925f5aee76943e56306aa0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/495a43574c9c5bc5f3e8c9faf0036148_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/354b07cbda611a88344a35b5d1d2fc91_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e6116063374571f02d75e5d0137300f5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3630b1e5b2fc434e7231a41701b259a8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e9a20403b898529fd9347f26cac60aab_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4a00fe7e8ce2c6fab84b1579ffc00653_hd.jpg 1. Georges Bataille – The Sacred Conspiracy: Man has escaped from his head just as the condemned man has escaped from his prison. He has found beyond himself not God, who is the prohibition against crime, but a being who is unaware of prohibition. Beyond what I am, I meet a being who makes me laugh because he is headless; this fills me with dread because he is made of innocence and of crime; he holds a steel weapon in his left hand, flames like those of a Sacred Heart in his right. He reunites in the same eruption Birth and Death. He is not a man. He is not a god either. He is not me but he is more than me: his stomach is the labyrinth in which he has lost himself, loses me with him, and in which I discover myself as him, in other words, as a monster. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ecb0910242b5a78f6bc861e20db4eb58_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cdc527ac9339eace259e3fadb3f5e8f8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e1260fea41088e1237470ffe75df80c8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/543074cbb92213d0566717a0fcfc9c3e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/17034750bfa011c6bf9e96160ce1fb77_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c19c8ead7929c00f83d4a23a9d5c15b7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/2bfa10db80068f9133a5d7d32116a843_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/59e2560f29f01c1b60604f545f5f73ac_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/46d211f72e4c5ee7b3b073ac7ad40ac9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/27e996ee0ec6895800e4dc9d0dca03a4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d7941819537a9196807ed321bfe5d499_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/2ad5e5450f106bc048b26314eeac9111_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f8f8738cd59f1ade808ab0144dfeb1f7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/eef08852650544a1c89f40dbef57f324_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/54bfcd041ee36f655f6886a6bd954fd9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/fe9432efb2f476d54322f104ad75eb0c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e2a4955c1af54cc0cb6a57b9c54fe3bc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/700b6cd291bcd9d6d42e35b7a8c488a0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0ca947a7ecc2fab98b18657c5f3dce8c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e5b55cc4a19d02e5fd4e592a689a75ae_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7b3c461cb2bcd445521740c8129704fc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b12b1c5e377931395e8bbbd6fb50dd8a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d3710b20a1ae932f4f916dddf3771a7f_hd.jpg The jack-in the box. Just what happens when you are in the box. As goes along it tries to change but gets blacker and blacker, all horrible. It has never seen anything like it before, that’s it. That’s a person who thinks naturally then thinks of something else, blinded. Those are bandages over its eyes. This is what it thinks. White part is the good part, it floats away, does not like the black. Mindless people, they are not mad, just negative, don’t think or do anything. They see all this, they get the horrors and die. They are all moving, the blind one sees again, kills all of the black and things. White is all right. Jack –in-the-box trying to get out, this gate stops him. The whole thing is obscene, evil people, evil thoughts. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b9c1c76d02323da5c6a5c0868bb7a5f5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/45c2c2a7352431765dec8b0e33cf0cc3_hd.jpg Threshold https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/547ab901f105752dcf552853c6f6bec6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c2af71ac76529559ac7b0024ff91b945_hd.jpg Georg Trakl (1887 – 1914) Francis Michael Sharp – The Poet’s Madness; a reading of Georg Trakl: On one occasion, Trakl allegedly threw himself in front of a frightened horse. At another point early in his life, apparently prompted once more by an abhorrence of rapid motion. He stepped into the path of a moving train. The circumstances and aftermath of these two events are not recorded. The third event has been interfered both as absent-mindedness an as an “expression of a psychotic situation.” Sometime between the ages of five and eight, Trakl walked directly into a pond until he disappeared under water. His hat floating on the surface provided his rescuers the only indication where he could be found, and he was pulled to safety. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/823105388e75bcabdf50980f03fa8d7b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1e5c7d29b8317c56fbcbd9d4f60b4649_hd.jpg The Celebration of the Untouched Skin https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fd9482aedbff257e2e809e025b325ff9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8e7340cd46bc4f4ff3941d8da1ceeeb0_hd.jpg 2. André Masson quoted in Critique, 1956: I saw him immediately as headless, as becomes him, but what to do with this cumbersome and doubting head? – Irresistibly it finds itself displaced to the sex, which it masks with a “death’s head.” Now, the arms? Automatically one hand (the left!) flourishes a dagger; while the other kneads a blazing heart (a heart that does not belong to the Crucified, but to our master Dionysus). […] The pectorals starred according to whim. Well, fine so far, but what to make of the stomach? That empty container will be receptacle for the Labyrinth that elsewhere had become our rallying sign. This drawing, made on the spot, under the eyes of Georges Bataille, had the good luck to please him. Absolutely. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f9c90a88f8e50a02f66be96ede4c3270_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/57e2f82a6319c41ce39e37336e6b5cc7_hd.jpg walking over there he left the room then he died https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e198bcb6bed1a8e683c5fc35617e8b5c_hd.jpg Photography: Karolina Urbaniak https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/81aa42f9853911276ad46ce4f21e0c87_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ee3d9c2386bdc3511e1c770d5dd1ff92_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/fabd6cff5d1595bf23f9f0902df780f1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b15733d8d4445fde444329a6811216da_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cc07966af7bb9a772750c61a90a76548_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/2b4f733242fff77168e7c52c7632e709_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c66180e6a193936416c96940acc25b80_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8d63895648a65ad63eaa15a8d9a544ee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/bb76540e0d31150fc75cbc00a48995e7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b49d8e68db3b47d8596f84daa560e1b4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/96d8647f4cfc654add3afe915f7a9c50_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0304ce18baf529bdcd2928bb91835819_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e49b8c3edb7e4345643ab7eb3d478dd3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/89f3b7a99afd97e1899b14e0e8f2f173_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8c6e3de32733e2e1a73fedf3904587b6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f2ee906c45c3d16057fb412cf049029d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cd9e7541d89c00baabe3354fec42ffa1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c78e5f21dd9a67d9d4a402bcdf5023d3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/aaeefd311f51c34ab0fb93f24e4caf46_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3ffec46cd0e3d93434f788347fa9f50e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/bf6001f279df18eff2a655bb2d51fe04_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f4668ab7258775031529cec07eb7f206_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/faed54ecacfbdd8bc7f20eb4717ade7b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/85141356111acbe664778c7ee7c5e606_hd.jpg I started off being frightened. I hate anything violent in these. It became all right when I invented the bird, a sort of hangover. I wanted to get rid of all the red things, but I don’t know if I have done that. These get overhot, they have to explode. These are people. This is underground. The roots are frightened. Half of them get away, but when above ground they are no use. These are the faces, they see what is happening, they turn back, escape but they die. It trembles and the white bird flies away. It sees that if it does not like it, all this will be destroyed. It is wounded, it falls to the ground and dies. The ghost of the bird goes on losing its feathers helped by an aircraft. It flies away. It is only a machine now, can’t feel or think, goes away forever. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c065e923cbe9a4b4c99c62f450723834_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3ec2c6364082ef31f4d05fbd091aebea_hd.jpg Threshold ll https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/25bdbf136f4f4f25010be70ad9dfb6b6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a48f7984f03223b1888b5c2c06b8e6d4_hd.jpg Egon Schiele (1890 – 1918) Wolfgang Georg Fischer – Egon Schiele, Desire and Decay: In 1910 a gynaecologist friend, Erwin von Graff, secured Schiele access to the university gynaecological clinic, and there he found his material for a realistic unmasking of the traditional iconography of children. Newborn Baby (1910) was one of the drawings Schiele did at this time. The baby’s head is outsize, the body rickety, the movements of the hands and legs as yet uncoordinated. Schiele drew the baby’s hair standing on end, its facial features distorted and its half-closed eyes fixed in an expression that seems one of horror and suffering. Its belly is like a limp, leathery bag, and its navel is like a wound, a hole in the body. The red scrotum looks ulcerous between the spread, bluish legs, and the thin, purpled arms reaching out to the shoulders look cramped. This is the human child as homunculus. Schiele saw newborn infants as shrivelled ancients with grief in their eyes, as if they were afraid of beginning their journey through the worldly vale of tears. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/35f70e5c0c00cd2b76fba9496adbb9be_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/83d6be5fde07f985a7334858ee93e4e6_hd.jpg Oedipus Dethroned https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2b3d6218c91107a1c150940a5a0b697c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1d18e7a96a46950f3e985a6b267a7d49_hd.jpg 3. Patrick Waldberg – Acéphalogramme: The war had burst upon us, Acéphale vacillated, undermined by internal dissensions, its conscience shattered perhaps by its obvious incongruity in the face of world-wide disaster. At the last meeting in the heart of the forest, there were only four of us and Bataille solemnly requested whether one of the three others would assent to being put to death, since this sacrifice would be the foundation of a myth, and ensure the survival of the community. This favour was refused him. Some months later the war was unleashed in earnest, sweeping away what hope remained. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/33f5f501858ad36679f48d1b04c41e59_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b609fc5745f8688b431c5dc2e9d79669_hd.jpg little cuts to test the blade an open-and-shut suicide didn't want to get blood on them https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e3e4ea5f1beef33377abc618e02b7fe2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/52338656a97b7870a4aadd6d4427e94d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/786b350356c8e96ee19a226323df7e0b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5dc0409f085dbc68a43cca8c2d15a287_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5d235e7b551bdf28502e3c21a9ba5b01_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/77c7c5d06905a3424f3083543a065a8b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/100de3b015e2359978e410d7112584d3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/26e4410fed078ee9e2a237ce777a40db_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/bf9db453a2deaa08851c2f34024d8e1e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9c264ac98f77e6607956dd8367660e33_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/fd4d86e21ed7b3fb1a6969d83d8a0ff8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3b5a3e766bb4a7dc77f83799da837298_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/59c050fbb841070a6c7a15734248e467_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ebbdf6bb70873d841156c4333d38e700_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a5752c4d52a9609aef9521b5b6a69e3d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c5dcdc73abcca81354f9dc99c32bbd51_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0c1f3e929de99e26ee98240626f15909_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1e9ca3ab9ef3abf7ce3d128be4f6a351_hd.jpg ( Horrible creepy shapes. There is a mask and there are a number of eyes. The yellow square is a lighted window. He is outside where it is dark. There are eyes looking at him everywhere from the darkness. In the darkness he sees the horrid shapes of crawling things. At the same time the darkness is alive with sex. This is shown by the red of sex. From outside where it is so dark and horrible, he looks in through the window, into the lives of other people, where it is bright and happy: but it is guarded by three bold crosses which show that this is not for him). You can’t go in there. You pass lighted windows at night and the people seem happy. I suppose they are not really happy. The crosses are to keep you out. The crosses turn into people. All things like creeping insects and animals. Not real animals, but they keep you out. This is a long lizard snake thing. More eyes. That’s a person that isn’t really a person. Eyes. A ghost. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/15b31e1dfe366ecea00002e2dbe3baf7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f6c7de0331608e72b7112e305daf01d5_hd.jpg In The Skin https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/86f7d254cd6432e01b2ad23351c3eaef_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c93183b33fa28d832f520d23646c746e_hd.jpg Kimitake Hiraoka (1925 – 1970) John Nathan – Mishima; a biography: The body did not come home until four the following afternoon, and since the crematorium closed at five, there was scarcely time for the final “leave-taking.” As he had requested in his will, Mishima was dressed in his Shield Society uniform, a military sword laid across his chest. At the last moment Yoko placed some manuscript paper and his fountain pen in the coffin with him. Only Azusa and Yoko’s father, Nei Sugiyama, accompanied the body to the crematorium. The following day the house was open to friends who came to light incense to Mishima’s memory. Yoko greeted and looked after the guests whose acquaintance with the house had begun after Mishima’s marriage; Shizue took care of older friends. One had come with a bouquet of white roses. As he stood in front of the Buddhist altar looking up at Mishima’s photograph, Shizue said from behind, “You should have brought red roses for a celebration. This was the first time in his life Kimitake did something he always wanted to do. Be happy for him”. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1e7fc38020ea72045086c8cf5ee4b4d0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/565037e280cba980dcda6ce0eab783ed_hd.jpg The Disease https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f5bfccba34c4e40de510f89d61ed83ad_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/bf2f1ec6143724ed93f26bbc00642dd0_hd.jpg 4. Suetonius – The Life of Nero: He so prostituted his own chastity that after defiling almost every part of his body, he at last devised a kind of game, in which, covered with the skin of some wild animal, he was let loose from a cage and attacked the private parts of men and women, who were bound to stakes, and when he had sated his mad lust, was dispatched by his freedman Doryphorus; for he was even married to this man in the same way that he himself had married Sporus, going so far as to imitate the cries and lamentations of a maiden being deflowered. I have heard from some men that it was his unshaken conviction that no man was chaste or pure in any part of his body, but that most of them concealed their vices and cleverly drew a veil over them; and that therefore he pardoned all other faults in those who confessed to him their lewdness. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/527b52b94cc0e2519df4b4ae2b43a1f5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/00b8db76cbefa2e51ff7ff3a52053d27_hd.jpg I cocked the hammer I could feel the cold of the steel in my mouth I could probably feel my heart beating https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a791b0e3c59072431eb72f2af2d0ea73_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/99fcd0c0196d353c909483796a0fbb5d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/46930f0f561b2535a0fb9fde707c1dd4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7d9f9157a20641e195dab78e84a9b325_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e0c53941dfb68d9ec8ceb140383463ec_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/2a2d762b60c4922e8a538ad996393a59_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9edff0e54d5123925f57bc9f42bb0e61_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/59805aab676b9ae00a7bd1dfdefb8985_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e7667d9ad6302d82d615fda830547bfd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/788c0cf030943cffb8c3a7f14fbe50e0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/82c4de4bd3e959dad53481c0dc32954c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e3f8f1534952068080c14095fad4b599_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3501f923dc2e046de5b20cf5ebd138c5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8ff976316e6a5097daa90e1c86b0aed7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7f1cdbfb576548dcab9f2cb789ffddd8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5aa16581b99c25a2e3ce83dec85a623a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d9a225893a5ad4cacdcb60d6b6f8f50f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/10cecc6962aa3a7b428f435266f35348_hd.jpg Don’t know what it is. That is night. As a child, used to go to walk at night. Now hear thumps. Don’t like it. There is someone there, but I know there isn’t. Frightened to go to bed. Not frightened of the other. Don’t know. It’s all imagination. Was only about three or four when this happened, this awful fear of men. Liked men that did the gardening or men that resented me. It is the bird, the claws of the bird. The monster all red. The door. The monster wanted to get to the door. Why should the red lead to the door, that is wrong. Started this scratching and digging into myself again, but can’t. It seems to be put on, but why? Just got to. Is that me? Or something else, or something imaginary? (What do you think?) It must be me. (It’s pointing to the door. The red is the way to the door?) Yes. It should stay shut. (But the red is all orderly) But it is still red. Don’t know why this rude comes. (Is it really rude?) In other people it is acceptable. Used to think a lot of sexual things, don’t so much now. (Tell me) Each figure. It’s a man. Felt I had to destroy something. Felt elated as I burned those things. I wanted to be a man. Now I don’t. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1d6565b79de4d9abf946d1afe13d8616_hd.jpg In The Skin ll https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/89495ba43552c21e7ec5e5f7fdd1ae44_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/277c7bc08c7a7a1ed37c6e644ef8d21e_hd.jpg David Wojnarowicz (1954 – 1992) David Wojnarowicz – From the Diaries of a Wolf Boy: Sometimes I wish I could blow myself up. Wrap a belt of dynamite around my fucking waist and walk into a cathedral or the Oval Office or the home of my mother and father. I’m in the last row of the bus, the seven other passengers are clustered like flies around the driver in the front. I can see his cute fuckable face in the rearview mirror. I lean back and tilt my head so all I see are the clouds in the sky. I’m looking back inside my head with my eyes wide open. I still don’t know where I’m going; I decided I’m not crazy or alien. It’s just that I’m more like one of those kids they find in remote jungles or forests of India. A wolf child. And they’ve dragged me into this fucking schizo-culture, snarling and spitting and walking around on curled knuckles. They’re trying to give me a damp mattress to sleep on in a dark corner when all I really want is the rude perfume of some guy’s furry underarms and crotch to lean into. I’ll make guttural sounds and stop eating and drinking and I’ll be dead within the year. My eyes have always been advertisements for an early death. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/720ff61e4146c7321c9af58ff9c11f14_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/086667ee37bafab858b22af3d174b761_hd.jpg The Stage-Surgeon https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/20ed16a172076ddac0fd767eb2135dd0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3d3cb9149e9501b85fdbb193ee1917ba_hd.jpg 5. Gerard de Nerval – To Alexander Dumas: Was this young Nero, the idol of Rome, the handsome athlete, the dancer, the poet whose only wish was to please the populace? Is this what history and the conceptions of our poets have left of him? Ah, give me his fury to interpret; his power I would fear to accept. Nero! I have comprehended thee, not alas! according to Racine, but according to my own heart, torn with agony whenever I have ventured to impersonate thee! Yes, thou wast a god, thou who wouldst have burned Rome. Thou wast right, perhaps, since Rome had insulted thee! https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5833c1181cd0239d828273c2e478b6cc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/99c219df911bb5627e24b8539a738c49_hd.jpg the cut he had made across his stomach was 13 cm across and between 7 cm and 9 cm deep 60 cm intestine had been exposed https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/dfde692a28749f4462b11cd90f40eac2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7c352f63e7143345c962de5dca752925_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1b9401715884a2f7d49302c6d3d9cc0a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/feba32e2f7db4500e34b746a3b9fd435_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f64bce272cf8cf549dfe69c2aae70833_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/bbd877d2b0ebcd397470dfea90e33e9c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d7b3d01dcb77a6fac7b8b28c1554f6f8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a427fe453d3f9028204f98555afcd08e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5a00ea40f27366950f846f98cd826a5b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d5fec725aec6cc7fc395ebde3140f675_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3c77c9320ae6671e08e2d1dfb3e12786_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9939640187372deeaa8045b36e70441a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4d0913c0d266c63948658fed568e2f1d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/92006a7eb5505fe7ea0fad59760dcfe3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0841670390598ed880a2e20011b6b1c1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a8786bacb9e51ead184643a3bc4c615a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9cbb008274d8ed020755c3ae280e0e08_hd.jpg It doesn’t mean anything. That is a bird an that is a hand. Hand is pointing towards the gates. Railway gates. Don’t think I have ever been there. Accident. Have the feeling I was there when I was very little. Forgot all about it. That is the moon. Don’t know what the other thing is. Used to look at the moon a lot. Used to think that things must be better up there. I had never heard of mad people before, and one still, eerie night with a full moon, a man started making weird noises like a wolf. People explained that it was a lunatic, and that the moon had sent him off. Everyone was terrified. (The hand is pointing through the gate to the moon?) I thought it meant that you should not go through the gate. (But it is pointing through the gate) Yes. No. (There has been an accident at the gate) Got into my head that I was there, but I wasn’t. (Would it refer to some other thing?) Don’t know. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/30781013102ffdb719349ce9f0c44d27_hd.jpg Rothko Field https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3a477c1ee078221af076f9d0a8a4a5cc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7fd53313a06d665a94c00372b5ca1156_hd.jpg Ian Kevin Curtis (1956 – 1980) Paul Morley – Nothing: I’m sure that the he that once livened up this body would have been pleased with the pose and the shadow of death that grazed it. Film stars and pop stars and models work hard to create such a cold and splendid pose. Working too hard to achieve such poses can often lead, what with one thing and another, to an early, controversial death. The earlier the death, the better, the more tragic, this final pose. The neat black marks crossing the neck of the body of the man who died early and was truly in front of me only succeeded in increasing the depressed glory of the final pose. The black marks that danced on the body’s neck like some gothically extravagant beauty spot drew attention to the damned flawlessness of everything else, emphasising with sick, magnificent force that this was indeed – as he would have wanted, if he had chosen – a good-looking corpse. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/21000fbbedee488d64e8e197892ddb1b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6fda8162031bc2a438339658c2241964_hd.jpg Inside the Skull of a Mannequin https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6818eda30c7cf78d6b7905408fe3a8b3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/73c1c1d79661d53db167102c01fe51b5_hd.jpg 6. Joel Black – The Aesthetics of Murder: Going back to antiquity, we can find the modern artist-criminal’s ancestors in the early Roman emperors, particularly Caligula and Nero, whom Leo Braudy has depicted as performance artists:”Both emphasized the element of performance in the role of the emperor and presented themselves as great artists, even entertainers, for whom approval had to be immediate.” Lacking their predecessor Augustus’s achievements and abilities, these emperors could only demonstrate their sovereignty by taking crime to a theatrical extreme. “When one’s inheritance was absolute power, only the striking colours of art or crime could make one truly distinctive. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4d04b82cc3b3d363ebae219f29ef2c62_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8f67a131db79d52ef89c36d1114a9338_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/52c7892b56f79d1be11dd006a1d71936_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/18ecf0d68686c0bf7e51034e3718f145_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/233f1460f7fdb10a13a26b8aa106af4f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ae809abec4ea8c8a30c8787c14f5d2d0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/04aa3784bd600eabcb64ec134de10769_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/816f42b1c45466879ff0e61a707ef655_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/bb053bda972b0873b37642ccab76a103_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0e1c5df31dc1f2e6b57423579d4d1150_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/500223e2e0f250e0b511e6e35a2030ec_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/56860eeca1a19ee86edb98c77ab937fd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9ece6cd79857532589a808787bc65733_hd.jpg (There is a head in which the piercing eyes are the conspicuous feature. From the head comes a black rod which ends in a black mass surrounded by red. The piercing eyes are leering with sex. The head is surrounded with the white hair of the old man. The black rod, surrounded with red sex, is the organ with which he soiled him. It’s wet, it’s slippery, it’s hateful, it’s slimy.) He is there. The old man. He is there. Sort of hangover from when I was a kid. Sort of an idea that there was a lunatic somewhere. It made men frightening. An old man in a room which was like a picture. He was in bed. Suddenly he sat up. His face was surrounded by masses of white hair. He leapt out of the room. He was like a fire-ball, coming closer and closer. He was like the devil, and was coming toward me. Then he changed, and I saw that he was not angry anymore. He was mad, and he had been startled and frightened by something. The red disappeared. His eyes were bright and very large. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/db310fcefdf61c60cfcc463ded10e01d_hd.jpg Rothko Field ll https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1cb7296a46133e38a86123f0c95f0541_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a3d992876830079e7792836d68c039fa_hd.jpg Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer (1960 – 1994) Brian Masters – The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer: After a while, Jeff felt he knew David well enough to bring him into part of his private little world. In his solitary moments, which were frequent, he had dreamt up a game involving stick men and spirals. The stick men were spindly figures who would be annihilated if they came too close to one another, as each boy manipulated his little army. The spirals were tightly drawn, intensely imagined symbols of descent, whose ultimate destination was a black hole. He called the game Infinity Land. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1a5de656f742c02e66409808639c4e34_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0402dc511ad1feca3f420dbafad2f231_hd.jpg The Wound https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0521303baa1adc13cb7225160260bfb9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1303743e12752fc622e58d92f317249d_hd.jpg 7. Guido Ceronetti – The Silence of the Body: Maybe Gilles de Rais should have been put in an asylum and asked to make collages at the first sign of the cravings for orgies and massacres seething within him. He would have found and outlet for his madness and been cured. His extraordinary collages would have sparked endless discussions. He would have been reborn as an artist who carried the seed of great crimes. But we would never have known that he carried them, just as we do not know how much crime is contained and submerged in the expiating ergon of certain great artists who never cease to amaze. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6b4a59ed5c6c642266eda0aa5a56f0c3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/91ccd70c4b4ad9b2063f0cf3f21afdd2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/66254c62577b7896244e9f522df7c58f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/cf373a9f7d06703b1d451a74643a16fc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ddb59e9c8098697c51279d47047da68e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/578e6107a4e467f237bf0e9c2a9b2744_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/79d8d15fd6b19dea6fdb6a820ee1ce06_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f876b593d26cd5b646c0e487a8cb2a43_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/16de00af2affc097f792fddda73b0de1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9f9eddc221760fe8fc5523a7739cedc8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/00ec105da9f4929401210f75a1db4ed1_hd.jpg All this red comes out of its head, gets up there and explodes. Then it sees people. Those are people as they appear outwardly. When it sees people, it falls away back to its rat-hole. That’s where it lives. That’s a house. Those are doorknobs. They can see, they pry, they are disapproving, they are only interested because it’s bad. The sun shines there on the right, but it is blot out on the other side. Those are people, keep red and black in place. They are normal people, the black was depression. In spite of their purity they pry and question. That’d me I suppose because I called it Ruby. Ruby is me. When I get stuck I talk to myself. I just use that name, it’s a name I hate. The empty box is its head. I always wanted to be a girl then I felt it was wrong. When I was little, I saw the differences between me and little girls. I have always wanted to be a girl. I hated boys’ clothes. I think people look at me because they think I am immoral. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5dc190e1aa0bc64b8a54a968104192ad_hd.jpg Hypnagoga https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d3db4ed131d7c0ef3c1486eef307def0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c60a6a56982c1aecf32530894938f2f6_hd.jpg Per Yngve Ohlin (1969 - 1991) Dead quoted in Michael Moynihan’s and Didrik Söderlind’s Lords of Chaos: I had a weird experience once. I had inner bleeding and it couldn’t be found at X-rays so when it continued to bleed and bleed I finally fainted and dropped down to the floor cos I run out of blood. The heart had no blood left to beat and my veins/arteries almost emptied of blood. “Technically” I was dead. At that moment when I fell down (into a door, I heard later), I saw a strange blue color everywhere - it was transparent so I could for a short moment see everything in blue, till something shining white and "hot" surrounded me ... it’s someone I know who’s had many out-of-body experiences and knows much more than I do about "supernatural" experience, that I asked this cos it was so strange about those colors. She told me that the first “plane” in the astral world has the color blue. The earthly plane has the color of black. Then comes a gray that is very near the earthly one and is easy to come to. The next one further is blue, then it gets brighter and brighter till it “stops” at a white shining one that can’t be entered by mortals. If any mortal succeeds in entering it, that one is no longer mortal and can not come back to the earthly planes nor back to this earth. After the white plane… it goes further with other colors that I don’t know of – there only spirits and great sorcerers can travel. I was told that the white plane I then entered, without knowing it, was the deadworld, and I had died. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/932c2a8e3d1d41d1382f3e49f698f3e5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/60d1b821569540381dbb48b8dada1831_hd.jpg The Stage https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f3669fc3fb2beb27c7b5daeab16df4a4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/87daf9a73874987547f3e97977344da2_hd.jpg 8. Jim Fielder – Slow Death: Standing right next to the Satan’s Den sign was a tall tripod with a very expensive RCA Victor camcorder pointing toward a large black leather table/chair rigged up with metal stirrups, electrodes and dozens of red plastic straps. Hanging from the ceiling next to what looked like the gynaecology table was a RCA Victor television set, positioned so the female victims could see what Ray was doing to them. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3a461352ee2e98bd153ba64c86d323bf_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ea7fa50e3fb1b7fff10ef1812d3360e0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5c1cce36824c12626728e718457eb56a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a5f4f716e52e865c2557de8f79e08ec4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8cdcbd5f2637e4ffd574977fe6b1a814_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/385065840f068f41de16503cdf7d069a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/01ab596d1902eede443f95d93a4637c8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/38476713d8eb2404495e069947832766_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d9f7cf7d1d3dfa1ff283e9a18079c07e_hd.jpg These people started off pointing at that person so I chained up their hands, so they could not point. I suppose he was a bad person. Dead people. The person was blue, then I changed it, then I put red over it. The red was locked up by this great door on him. Then it got out. (On his body there is a door. The red sex should be kept in by this door, but it has burst forth. People are pointing at him. To try to stop them he has put chains on their hands, but it is of no avail. The few careless curves which outline the grotesque figure express the full pathos of his concept of himself. He is so misshapen as to be hardly human. His face has no features at all. There is nothing for him to see with, and nothing to hear with. He has no mouth that would let him talk to his fellows. The swollen belly, the amorphous legs give the impression of some horrid jellyfish in the shape of a man, and over all is the fire of red sex which burns his body. Over it all is written: Going away Tomorrow day Now not where But I’ll get there). https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5a42be2a89e5825c0c0e569484a05f84_hd.jpg Hypnagoga II https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4cf3a84f8610a2de2f8108d8adf9b75d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/00c46c50e807988b4de44601969db467_hd.jpg Eric David Harris (1981 – 1999) REB quoted in Jefferson County, Columbine Documents: It will be like the LA riots, the Oklahoma bombing, WWII, Vietnam, duke, and doom all mixed together. maybe we will even start a little rebellion or revolution to fuck things up as much as we can. i want to leave a lasting impression on the world, and god damnit do not blame anyone else besides me and V for this. don't blame my family, they had no clue and there is nothing they could have done, they brought me up just fucking fine. don't blame toy stores or any other stores for selling us ammo, bomb materials, or anything like that because it's not their fault. i don't want no fucking laws on buying fucking PVC pipes. we are kind of a select case here so don't think this will happen again. don't blame the school, don't fucking put cops all over the place, just because we went on a killing spree doesn't mean everyone else will, and hardly ever do people bring bombs or guns to school anyway. the admin is doing a fine job as it is. i don't know who will be left after we kill but damnit don't change any policies just because of us. it would be stupid, and if there is any way in this fucked up universe we can come back as ghosts or what the fuck ever we will haunt the life out of anyone who blames anyone besides me and V… https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c1b6c3f2c624bf52be4cca547f482181_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1629e96acfe520ae8b6fbc3e671c7048_hd.jpg The Crucifixion (The Final Stage) https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1b33c3f0732540b0021970760ea7703d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1b2fa3d0a52b0329bd4a3c92a32d7b28_hd.jpg 9. Gideon Bachmann – Pasolini and the Marquis de Sade: It is the classic scene of every pornographic novel, with or without literary pretensions, the first moment of the manifestation of supremacy of one being over another. Since the film is to be made without emotion, I find it hard to understand the willingness, even complicity, with which these boys, even as film actors, expose themselves to the camera’s anatomical panning and tilting. There is joggling for position, pride of the chosen, sly jockeying and competition. For a moment, the film scene and the reality of its filming seem one. These boys are proud of their bodies in front of Pasolini as they might have been, in their innocence, in de Sade’s castle in Switzerland two hundred years ago. When they were picked for the film, they were not told about the script. There might be some nudity, they knew, seeing that it was a Pasolini film. But none were aware of the portent of what they were involved with. And yet, so strong is the career strife, so important the parts in a Pasolini film for their financial future, that none rebels. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9e155002646dc4fb985cba8622980ca0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d6b21f7ada0d0aafbe2bf20dd2f722d6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0b569584869bf590cd81f06b5b0d02e6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/dfda5f9a94a44d71b109fb80bbac7e40_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5bbec7738a66f173ed1e2309128599a7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0d4f59b28ecf052117f73a0b57d6f922_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ecf8cdb671659afee4deb1d16e8efb2c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/24e03466729941402aca588cef4c534d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ff2b3d50d1308bdd6e6f515883f6fc04_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2cb57ad94963fda9b70c35a8dce7d0df_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/bec837f541295a70f756c5ecabb43892_hd.jpg 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/60d326e691ff14b2dc21f4de802e9c68_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/babc41c46785411a3eae78fb1f6686c0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5aa7e70b3c389ebce934d0e434d2c116_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7805aa864057d4d7468195e0d87a29cf_hd.jpg http://www.martinbladh.com/mise-en-scene 2020-06-08 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d1d1bf72fa911db2f282424d8f767b1b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/af436aa5c6d91c02958dd79af47f097f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c749bf887c3d84159d42e10e92462606_hd.jpg TO... Photography: Mikael Oretoft https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/bd672c11568b4e8e4e95fa30ef8022fe_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ff9f9cce588782732a5a80840561cfe1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9f3a8e9dc0783b0bf6cc2c0d56bb4805_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/64de42d7573062f7571b62ca31a5620f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3df1b6ae9e5e0fe762da0da02f9bbe92_hd.jpg EARN... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a28784bba12ac0c813d70f7455eec99b_hd.jpg Photography: Mikael Oretoft https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5e80afb07c00221d9b9ba42466c3509a_hd.jpg 1:1 in/cum/image/shame. scrotum cut-off torso directly above nipples cut-off upper thighs optiderm above suspensor. All acts of violence have been performed offstage. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/cf9aedb62a7ae53939fca40006392ef8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/428ab4ff35bfdc3bee54419db811d9bf_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/168335d798c1f3bc7829b32a7b0d4c8b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/74b1bd16bbd6b46ef7c9ddb87107268c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f6748600093f6f8515e8c8a14f51abeb_hd.jpg Rudolf Schwarzkogler (1940-1969) Otto Muehl interviewed by Francesco Conz: Francesco Conz: Didn’t you meet him two or three days before his suicide together with Ossi Weiner. How did he behave? Otto Muehl: Ossi Weiner, Kurt Kalb and I were at the workers’ swimming area, Schwarzkogler turned up there, too. But he was quite alone and isolated himself. After that I was at my place together with Wiener in the Praterstrasse. By chance Ossi Weiner and I looked out of the window down onto Praterstrasse, there on the other side of the street I saw Schwarzkogler passing by bending forward and with tired steps. “Look, Schwarzkogler is walking over there”, I said. “I have a feeling that we won’t have him much longer”, Ossi Wiener responded in his cool manner. It was really striking how Schwarzkogler was walking along lost in thought. After his suicide, Edith, his partner, told me he had talked to her all through the night before jumping out of the window. He reproached her. He was jealous. When day was dawning she said: “I can’t stand it any longer. I want to sleep.” He left the room. After a while a policeman knocked on the door and asked if that dead man lying on the pavement was a friend of hers. She looked down and saw Schwarzkogler lying there. A man found him and said he had still been conscious, Schwarzkogler had stammered unintelligible words. Then he died. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/55272bd9021d720a057d5c98626bd76d_hd.jpg VIOLENCE... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/07cf456fadfab9f52988e8bfa389e380_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/dee75097ee43489344b75447f8c084a7_hd.jpg 1:2 Joel Black – The Aesthetic of Murder: The aesthetic or theatrical violence of cathartic or transcendent killings has institutional parallels in very different cultures, from the mass murderer’s last stand, to the mayhem of American street-gangs, to the ritual suicides of the warrior class in Japan. For all their cultural diversity, these violent forms of death are similar in that they are characterized by a certain artistry on the part the murderer or suicide. What Leyton says of the mass murderer Mark Essex can be said of the fictional character Hedda Gabler and of the writer-suicide Yukio Mishima: they “stage” their own violent ends in such a way that their deaths assume an artistic form and become an artistic gesture. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5e1788ecee7e84ffec825dda1c0db86a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8699b66f67cf7bfda0346f76479b571f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/61a5ab114978a5bf201d3c6d7f5fdcc5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/22e3956c77a550680492e777e8616b49_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0f62dd3c0b4a473216bebf7a4bb636cb_hd.jpg I... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/930c08ffab965d70c139c493ce54db41_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/91e379b49ca202708a1e82aa01812ccd_hd.jpg 1:3 Jenny Murphy – Art Therapy with Young Survivors of Sexual Abuse: As we would have anticipated, Sally and Sonia were confident in expressing anger towards their abusers and the desire to punish them. I feel it is so important for these children to express symbolically the abusive feelings aroused in them, so that there is less chance of perpetuating the cycle of abuse. We know how many sexually abused boys go on to enact their abusive feelings by becoming perpetrators and how other survivors of abuse re-abuse by harming themselves. I think it is an important part of our groups to allow a different expression of abusive feelings and in this session, Sonia and Sally did pictures that were very punishing and used strong language which would have been unacceptable elsewhere. They continued their abuse by cutting up the clay models of their abusers and disposing them. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/537e65feedf7739f01e4cd16a9bf20e5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2bb1a5af0f0887b11f8aa1d8cd8431d5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/20aa8babb47dfad88bd80595b42a09a5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ac721d9c196836b8ae3514983cb7cfbf_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0d1862f6c3bdc5a50aa0204b4e3053f1_hd.jpg Mark Rothko (1903-1970) Why So Many Real-Life Detective Stories End With a Rubber Stamp, Paul Wilkes, April 19, 1970, The New York Times Magazine: The body is lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen and the water in the sink is still running. Lappin glances quickly around the room and sees that the double-edged razor blade that apparently inflicted the deep gashes has a piece of Kleenex on one side. 'Suicides are amazingly careful not to cut their fingers as they slash their forearms' says Lappin. The artist's trousers are folded neatly over the back of a nearby chair. 'Didn't want to get blood on them. And the water in the faucet was on because he didn't want to leave a mess for somebody. He did himself in at the sink and fell to the floor when his blood level got too low. And he has hesitation marks on his forearm - little cuts to test the blade while he thought about it.' Rothko's wallet is intact and there is no sign of rifling in the studio, which contains scores of the artist's works, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. A call was to the artist's doctor reveals that Rothko had been despondent after a recent operation and that his health generally had not been good. 'An open-and-shut suicide' says Lappin. Although he has never heard of Rothko and has no idea what the artist's works are worth, he takes no chances; he arranges for the police to guard the studio 24 hours a day. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/809d70217b27f364fe2b69b5b3d544b3_hd.jpg HURL... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fb3f2263220d38959808885b6a382384_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/639b9ebe7e49155ca503f6ed9e63d970_hd.jpg 1:4 Diana Milia – Self-Mutilation and Art Therapy; Violent Creation: Despite the degree of morbidity involved in self-mutilation, there does appear to be present an active urge towards separation and change that is not apparent in the use of the fetish. Like the sado-masochistic behaviour that is confined to sexual practices, fetishistic behaviour is not usually ego- dystonic. That is, the behaviour is incorporated and accepted into the personality, and does not interfere with functioning in other areas of life. It is in fact a compromise a compromise that fulfils its function smoothly and continuously. However, as has been discussed, the self- mutilating person is often concerned with personality change, and with taking control over his or her body. While the self may be split between victim and aggressor identities, there is an attempt to move from a passive to an active position, such as in the “identification with the aggressor”. Taking control by the self, even in rudimenentary and impulsive forms, is a manifestation of an attempt at separation and individuation. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fc69bb6f8649023f26b96b920063d23d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/947ee0a53657b6f64cba8f65bc35e0cf_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9d8949dd560067d2c29b87cba64b16aa_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/eefb25dd528377dfa6948d9d891f5771_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7facdfd4e0d20060e5630ac3919ec34b_hd.jpg MYSELF... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/63eae1366a719efb0dfac5136b87345a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a0393e90365528cad1265b9125d7e9e9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e4e7679241f59e5b4931cc133faa6ffd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0bb00028ed77a470a9d0be17104bb6b7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/65d1fd0e4a01dc268e5d7dc870987317_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/dc69f54a83a749a7cb411d22838e7fe8_hd.jpg Jacques Rigaut (1898-1929) Jacques Rigaut – Jacques Rigaut: Lying down naked on my bed, I was naked in the room. It was cold. I hurriedly buried myself under the blankets. I cocked the hammer, I could feel the cold of the steel in my mouth. At that moment I could probably feel my heart beating, just as I could feel it beating as I listened to the whistle of the shell before it exploded, as if in the presence of something irrevocable but still unconsummated. I pressed the trigger, the hammer clicked, but the shot didn’t fire. I then laid the weapon on a small table, probably laughing a little nervously. Ten minutes later, I was asleep. I think that I just made a rather important remark. What was it again? But of course! It goes without saying that I did not for an instant consider firing a second shoot. The important thing was not whether I died or not but that I had taken the decision to die. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2b1a483f4a0fff1f436862fbc685dff2_hd.jpg INTO... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e6ade609e3162f978fd388bc56ce7b99_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d1e867f887715aa22f2896222569bf20_hd.jpg 2:1 clean/wound/off/stage. front torso cut-off arms cut-off throat waist cut-off. All acts of violence have been performed offstage. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0b2cd9d061ea870a48c8f846e23bdbb6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a9bfb963788c31270de87e34f732cd1d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fc1404074f9eee2981d43e428818743d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/95dc7bcd3fb59fe8f7e523507d553cd3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b24b5e8a16f715ac3d673611e0a6c14f_hd.jpg THIS... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a41f95a4410709d3de7e1b179541772e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/24be44b250c80a4aa70b0464bb9c3d63_hd.jpg 2:2 Sarah Kane – quoted in Graham Saunders’ Love me or kill me; Sarah Kane and the theatre of extremes: I’ve only ever written to escape hell – and it’s never worked – but at the other end of it when you sit there and watch something and think that’s the most perfect expression of the hell that I felt then maybe it was worth it. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0c621e68f4408dcc58095330c2305382_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7f129ca23b4444c0ed176c0d57ca7cb4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/13b04afa31370e5374f06a9f15ce7636_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/87c028b81b20daf744432e39e0eec137_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f360eecadcccdc07fe827d42c95835f0_hd.jpg Yukio Mishima (1925-1970) Autopsy performed on Mishima at the Keio Daigaku by Fuzoku Byõin: The cut he had made across his stomach was 13 cm across and between 7 cm and 9 cm deep; 60 cm of intestine had been exposed; he had bitten through his tongue, nearly severing it; there was a piece of the sword blade embedded in his teeth; cause of death – decapitation. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b3378a9b321b327cb6c769f026abe9b5_hd.jpg SURPLUS... https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/646b2a2fb85e8133748a0906aa1d6390_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3659cf7830136bef1d3f7d917b972d12_hd.jpg 2:3 Gottfried Richter – The Isenheim Altar; Suffering and Salvation in the Art of Grünewald: Then, furthermore, there is this Crucified One. With gruesome realism the painter has depicted him so tortured. Who had ever dared to do that before! This broken body, wounded by innumerable thorns, the hands spread out in agony, the feet swelling round the wounds of the nails, the lips swollen from feverish thirst, the convulsion of the whole body, the pallor already turning into greenish putrefaction – this whole horror of torture and death. Utterly realistic. But quite unrealistic is this Crucified One in proportion to the others: he is drawn much too large. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/151699505aee7c60a93042ff96b4f231_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e3e3424ad8fe77f3483706b264edd165_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b93731ddac7fb3e58f5395951ab3478e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/19761fbddbd7b02ba6084d9e9d9c7dba_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9941dbd29de95d90d0a5e61d8d81ed90_hd.jpg GASH. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/98eaa12b35f4c4a71d40a7e97cf43e26_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/30cbdfab6ffc3534c10615a0dd44862e_hd.jpg 2:4 “Andrew” quoted in Marilee Strong – A Bright Reed Scream; self-mutilation and the language of pain: You’d been working all day, wanted to go out and relax, enjoy yourself. No one around. Went to the liquor store, bought something to drink, sat in your room, listening to your favourite violent and depressive music. Something is welling up inside you, you notice. It feels like at any minute you’re going to explode. Your eyes become watery, you start crying. The crying becomes shouts, yells, screams. You try and hold yourself down. Start kicking the door. Throw staff across the room, out the window. You can’t calm down. You don’t even know what got you into this state in the first place. You dig your nails into the skin on your wrist. Can’t feel anything. It’s like you’re watching a film of someone, this isn’t you. You take your shirt off, look in the mirror. Hate, disgust, frustration, anger, regret. Almost like a ritual, without even thinking what you’re doing, you pick up the razor blade … blood dripping down. Rub in some antiseptic, do it again, do it until you’re calm, you’re satisfied. Like when you go out for a drink and have one or two and just want more, and you know it’s stupid but you just can’t help yourself. How do you feel? Alive. Real. Numb. Calm. Satisfied. You smear the blood around. It’s sick, but the blood feels real, feels human, feels good! At the same time, you feel the pain, you deserve the pain. You tell some people. They say you’re manipulative, attention seeking, you believe it. Only serves to make you feel worse. Some people think you’re sick, you’re weird. One or two may understand, but they’re wary, still shocked by it. Some think you’re suicidal. You’re not. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2a1d4ee8b6efc1fb438aad1c1ce36350_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/38ab1eefe81cd3a3e48aa7ba12971f94_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/42ceebbe9063a69575e8a2e3bb533463_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/dc95dcf57314689466721013f404d3fc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/714eae7ca376c3491c95a26e4a0e90e2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5aea35c75330a47d141f4c5a088f1464_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/085085b82f5d74bba655b985bc8eb816_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/91ce0acbbfe3383eecb4ed07ae40f763_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ba27d9146c39af8fa5cd196acd1f8cdf_hd.jpg 3:1 famine/force/blind/birth. torso cut-off at throat cut-off at hips arms raised out-from body (Y) expose ribs left-side. All acts of violence have been performed offstage. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8e6169b8e889648cdd51f6c349882502_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ae5e080ce002be7899aa2dbb9e71a76e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3ae73ad1f8ccb26c1b3a2c4a8c838365_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6869c08879e376d6954a85c7f69b9bea_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/45b11755304c89af2de4ef9f052b2e34_hd.jpg 3:2 Yukio Mishima – Confessions of a Mask: There, in my murder theatre, young Roman gladiators offered up their lives for my amusement; and all the deaths that took place there not only had to overflow with blood but also had to be performed with all due ceremony. I delighted in all forms of capital punishment and all implements of execution. But I would allow no torture devices nor gallows, as they would not have provided a spectacle of outpouring blood. Nor did I like explosive weapons, such as pistols or guns. So far as possible I chose primitive and savage weapons-arrows, daggers, spears. And in order to prolong the agony, it was the belly that must be aimed at. The sacrificial victim must send up long-drawn- out, mournful, pathetic cries, making the hearer feel the unutterable loneliness of existence. Thereupon my joy of life, blazing up from some secret place deep within me, would finally give its own shout of exultation, answering the victim cry for cry. Was this not exactly similar to the joy ancient man found in the hunt? https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b5103b0bacb4a0bb57ac6cbf801dc78d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c8dca57f48b403ed557aa2f22133cd4c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5de14f611d94e5d91f1346fd38e6f05d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/53d3350b7da7e891d081383f04d9dd94_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a4ffef77c6798e2ad55aa6068ba00cf6_hd.jpg 3:3 David Nebreda quoted in an interview with Virgine Luc: Violence does not need any explanation or justification; it is an inevitable cultural argument. The human measure is something insufficient, violent, and always insufficiently violent; with a single nuance, silence and reduction to myself. I think that is how you became intelligent. Discipline is intelligent, thought from hatred is a mature, fertile and discreet activity; in a state of isolation that ends in injuries or death, violence is only the trap of a forgotten language. Unfortunately I have known different forms of tranquillity and we could talk about the extreme violence of tranquillity. At all events, discourse about violence is one thing; human blood or fear is quite another, and yet another in the end is our own blood and our own fear. Violence has only one interlocutor and one pupil. It is a practice, a discourse, immediately, wretchedly close. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4ec9711479ac6b50616159a0ce05284c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d6af39bc333760954077027d1e8ac662_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/04a02df652cec9ab32842270b60f4bde_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a7be6cce2f64f3179302de000627354f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/33472897b00b3ca6427e3472ff069e2b_hd.jpg 3:4 “Pascal’s” quoted in Michel Dorais – Don’t Tell, The Sexual Abuse of Boys: I must admit I’ve had fantasies about younger boys also. At a certain point I had a dream: I was abusing a young fellow the way I was abused. That’s really not my thing. I reacted badly. It was as though I’d been hit on the head with a sledgehammer. I thought of killing myself. I cut my veins. But I stopped in time. This went on for about eight or nine months. I said to myself: If I’m capable of doing it in a dream I could do it awake. But I don’t want to be involved with young boys. I’m in therapy for that. I try not to think of the past. It’s like putting on a suit of armour. I’ve had other similar dreams recently, with girls in the dreams too. I wake up and feel excited. But now, instead of panicking, I try to make connections. I ask myself what happened the day before to make me think of that. I keep a journal to help me understand, to make connections between it all. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/84bd70b3b51becc4f4f509279461806f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f247b177e7d282f094bc7c6353c85254_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d5dbf78f9838698ece2aaa1b4a6826dc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6d35f2921931971c7aa026a33a84d522_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/22c043bca0f34f60dca762c1bdef1b66_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/75e4195dbad8a44a7607af06ec972ede_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5ce0dafada6438a2eb086b6a5130e0ce_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/be063aea73acb2de89130b28c0f97b4c_hd.jpg exit/mark/cut/out. back cut-off neck cut-off small-of-the-back arms raised out-from body (Y). All acts of violence have been performed offstage. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/564532bf723d5f6192a38cbf29c7b185_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ca58036279cd5be9abe628ceaa8eac43_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ca955859c05a98963b61d5e39f2a6362_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/297fd77a64531e19fe259a7a593c5e15_hd.jpg 4:2 Antonin Artaud – The Theatre of Cruelty; first manifesto: The theatre cannot become itself again – that is, it cannot constitute a means of true illusion – until it provides the spectator with truthful precipitates of dreams, in which his taste for crime, his erotic obsessions, his savagery, his fantasies, his utopian sense of life and of things, even his cannibalism, pour out on a level that is not counterfeit and illusory but internal. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f47318e3342912a498d348821d5492f3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/458a0f9122c9c68b993256095a5cff5c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1c7849cc31ca6e9849ad7224f3a64bab_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/03e4056571589cc436b7dd88bba70f93_hd.jpg 4:3 Robert Hughes – The Fall and Decline of the Avant-garde (Times Magazine, Dec 18 1972): Those interested in the fate of the avant-garde should reflect on a Viennese artist named Rudolf Schwarzkogler. His achievement (and limited though it may be, it cannot be taken from him; he died, a martyr to his art, in 1969 at the age of 29) was to become the Vincent Van Gogh of body art. As every moviegoer knows, Van Gogh once cut off his ear and presented it to a whore. Schwarzkogler seem to have deduced that what really counts is not the application of paint, but the removal of surplus flesh. So, he proceeded, inch by inch, to amputate his own penis, while a photographer recorded the act as an art event. In 1972, the resulting prints were reverently exhibited in that biennial motor show of Western art, Documenta V at Kassel. Successive acts of self-amputation finally did Schwarzkogler in. That the man was clearly mad as a hatter, sick beyond rebuke, is not though important: wasn’t Van Gogh crazy to? But Schwarzkogler’s gesture has a certain emblematic value. Having nothing to say and nowhere to go but further out, he lopped himself and called it art. The politics of experience give way to the poetics of impotence. Farwell Jasper, hullo Rudolf! https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8d3c86e2f968e850d5b47ad547dbd6aa_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0b5e3c67d6b4d621180f5658551ef72c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a7d5315710a244a93072ba0dc6a78004_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4e954a7f17d66d8848cdb3b68b2d1883_hd.jpg 4:4 Peter Kürten qouted in Karl Berg’s The Sadist: You have asked me when I first detected in myself a tendency to cruelty. Well, that goes back decades. When I was a child I did not torture animals, at least, not more than other boys do. Of course we went birds-nesting and caught frogs. But I was prematurely developed sexually and at the age of fifteen or sixteen I was already like that, then I used to stab sheep, for instance, that grazing on the Grafenberger meadows. When I did that I realised that it gave me an agreeable feeling, but without ejaculation. That was the start of it all, and the first time that I became conscious of the connection between cruelty and the sexual urge. I had also at that time cut off the head of a dog. Then I realised that there was something nice in it. You could imagine that, professor, and you must try it for yourself sometime – how the blood rushes absolutely silently when you cut off the head of a goose. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/46daa6dc1c5041364fb86f98c7e9ff4a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e64425f3ecf3c5d383fc23ee928e48b9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/039ac4a2a6c6063584ea014d4ea2fcaf_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/abbfcd10ec1597d5d5865d4efc65d514_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/277ea23a85cf57e46279c668c1a6090c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/09cbbd44f0284318739dc143e8cda25f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f5406c2cebcbb440d7410d29bd134beb_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c64df4d71faf813183ce9de5d2a2e6f9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2e996dc1cac0081ed75cb760d6209051_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8558cdc92c3fff534ce4c7d3b91367c2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/55b8930235d275c963d3ba93ce824f5c_hd.jpg 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A big projection screen showing outtakes from Karolina's Island of Death.  A table and a chair located at the edge of the stage, left corner. On the table  stand/lies: a razor blade, a box of matches, some eye shadow, a hand mirror, and  three kidney shaped bowls,  bowl 1 contains talcum powder,  bowl 2 contains human hair, bowl 3 contains black coal mixed with ashes, -------------------- My earliest childhood wonderings and speculations about death and the hereafter. Basically, there could only be three options: either you go to heaven, to hell, or you dissolved into a heap of crawling maggots and insects that would scatter and then transform into soil. Still these where just conceptions: the state of death didn’t feel like anything tangible or permanent. I started to have nightmarish thoughts about immortal bodies floating in orbit around asteroids in space after the inevitable global catastrophe that had finally obliterated the Earth. Immortal bodies lack the privilege of suicide. What would be done and what should be done to my dead body? Organ donation was totally out of the question, as was cremation. I was determined to keep my body as intact as possible. If there was no entity inside the broken body, at least it would transform into another form of organic life, and it seemed important that the origin, the body, had to be intact and gathered in the same place. I still get an uneasy feeling when I visit Goya’s grave knowing that his skull is missing. 2 I had especially during my earliest teenage years, a notion of the world as something that only existed from within and through me, a world that was being fabled and perceived by me alone. A world in which I was the absolute, sole existing entity, a centre, where everything around me – humans, nature, edifices – were props that I had put there, my own fictitious chimeras. As an uncovered incubated brain, a single naked body floating through an empty universe I dreamt up movements, time and the course of history. Everything had become an extension of my body, my thoughts and fantasy and everything would disappear when I finally shut down and left my universe. 3 During my mid teens I became obsessed with the Norwegian black metal band Mayhem’s lead vocalist Per Ohlin aka Dead. To me he was the embodiment of all my juvenile devotions. His pathological obsession with death and putrefaction proved itself as a theatrical, destructive force mainly directed inwards, towards his own body. He seemed to have lived and distilled the world through a morbid fantasy which he had nourished since his earliest childhood years. The body is visible from the waist up, it’s slumped on an unmade bed, his profile share a certain resemblance to my own and the face displays a peculiar indifferent expression, the top of his head, just above the forehead is missing as if it has been removed surgically with a saw, bloody tufts of hair are still left on the back of the head, the brain tissue has poured out on the white sheets where a blood stained kitchen knife and the shotgun lies. To me such a monumental act would have required a more aesthetically approach than the messiness Per had chosen. First of all the body would have to be preserved as intact as possible which of course would exclude a blast against the head, the heart would be a better choice whereas the damage would be unnoticed when the body was being displayed on Lit de Parade. 4 A new obsession, a new body: the representation of the dead body, my body. Beautiful icons, martyrs and suicides became obvious mirror reflections and standards for the way my own corpse should be exhibited and depicted. The Cult of the Young Man was born – a compulsive fixation with simulated, carefully arranged death – the beautiful, emaciated corpse akin to Holbein’s depiction of Christ’s body in the tomb. In my staged fantasies the naked, ‘wounded’ body was the focus of attention. A soothing mixture of narcissistic masturbation and self-loathing became a heroic, even erotic virtue: the beautiful self-imposed resignation of the self. My mirror reflection became a doppelgänger, the real me, and his act of dying would add the final brick to an unfinished masterpiece – the total work of art. 5 I chose to believe that several artist have turned the aesthetic destruction inwards by staging poetic suicides as a closure to a mayor body of work. Their lives would be read like straight lines, their works indicated as dots upon these lines which reach contextual perfection in death: the last masterpiece. The protagonist’s life becomes a real life drama, his action, work and achievements are enacted as chapters in a novel or tracks on a concept album. The final act of self-annihilation would be his last sublime creation. I don’t believe in enlightenment, or final catharsis, only further titillation, mental masturbation, and more trophies to put on the shelf. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2f6380782f865f5ccb0694bdb1a403d8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1a45f0366d9840facde81e9acba1e2c9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0b428e89ee7622c313fccca4f0da0ecd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/21e1e2b8786711f82355cb6f671e9a09_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/259bca08651940eb9ccfcc369359a5e4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/99dd4c7d770c736a70277e644547e9a6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d9541559c40215079ea0b9912713829f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0c9c6732f44e059424d76ccaabdf3bb4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f09069787e0e1982e534b512dd2fd82d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9f61830952dbb274ad8f5ae21a3668ee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c19d522af4c678f4f7f10cf0e763046b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6994f3a646f3888113926f8bd854ac2d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9319a8b057036a5fd64397d123776c15_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/73551a510135e64cd4b082d74e8549c5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1b5500fa79469494165e7d2a40f2bdde_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/21dff08e101e5a99e5da34617a06da63_hd.jpg Wolfgang Georg Fischer – Egon Schiele, The Theater of the Self: In the oil The Self-Seers (Death and Man, 1911) there is a pale, hazy phantom image – as at a séance – behind the darker portrait in the foreground, and it is as if this phantom had been called up by the hand that rises from depths. The portrait sitter’s eyes are wide in alarm, his eyebrows raised, as he sees his second image as Death behind him. The doppelgänger as mask and death mask; the opposition of the present and a menacing, fateful future. The recurring death motif in his work prompted Schiele to offer a written comment. For him, life and death were co-present, as the doppelgänger images imply. In a poem of 1910 or 1911 he wrote: “I am a man, I love death and love life.”(…) For an artist to give such preferential treatment to his own body and face, to use his available person so insistently, to look so addictively into the studio mirror, is inconceivable if the artist is not also narcissistic beyond the usual. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5afba4228f385a2d53ff527f5aa7bacb_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f9e4ce39757924a8c531e8bdfe0fb30e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/6a330bae556f0f5540d035f966a2c7f8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/12fe45cda61ba26903bd816abacd5b0d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/54a0c406462e82645cd0826fc30b0cc4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3e9569df188aae0e82aaba7bede6a268_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f50754a89044f8ffccd91dda40710404_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/5bfe1107e19e7054b451e5a20e9306f3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/44e00a500684d8172c7efb03dbc93c3d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3edcb7077466484be598649db35761ab_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/054cd39c6454ece0b74b4f126052011a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/db1ecf96820503d30299bb2d3f90db24_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1291a9b744353e10a28fc461940bda85_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b6c378434171b683d4131704f36912a5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/7720d9914ece27b2dcffcaab0be75a62_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1372ca1894f0c60e3827635b0251dd18_hd.jpg John Nathan – Mishima, a Biography: In mid-September Mishima posed for the young photographer Kishin Shinoyama for the first of a series of photographs called “Death of a Man.” The series was Mishima’s inspiration and Mishima designed the scenes. They included Mishima drowning in mud, Mishima with a hatchet in his brain, Mishima beneath the wheels of a cement truck, and of course Mishima as Saint Sebastian, arms roped above his head to a tree branch and arrows burning deliciously into his armpit and flank. The photographs were intended for publication in a magazine called Blood and Roses, but when Mishima died, Shinoyama could not bring himself to release them. The photograph that most unnerved him was one he had taken in jest; Mishima sits naked on the floor with a short sword buried in his abdomen, and standing behind him, with a long sword raised waiting to behead him on his signal, is Shinoyama. What can Mishima have been thinking? Were these moments when stage blood and the real thing came confused in his mind and he looked forward to his actual death as simple another more sensational pose? In all the hours of talk about each scene while it was being planed and photographed, Shinoyama’s only impression was that Mishima was intensely serious about the project, “the most demanding and the most cooperative” model he had ever had https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f5a83675b1167825520d21cd551dfc24_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ae49602c30e44eb87f02025fa26a17e6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/06de5807ece7c7f91b62dfc8d6130ba4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b20475044e5c2f3990caa73a9a6a8789_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/527876390e3f1a269fc34bfb84448111_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/2b47901e6532ee668496a73d58775a61_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8365e709dbf8a1e1ecb77bbe7a467358_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8181f0cbafd52e1a7a2e812dd7ba702f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/bf6b6c9622df76445a0ca59054113db9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9355566342b1a4d97dfd852b740f1615_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e73e4ae50fcb210ec2332730f46b3e3d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/98a349ad86c5aadec28da195a8ef6e6d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1e93232c85a5c426a3b41274bc0428ee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a9eb9f1809325c12bf228ad13b4e0f04_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/2a27f4b92a63b8dfe66f0a8adfb52bb9_hd.jpg Jean-Luc Mercié – Pierre Molinier, a retrospective: On the fixed date - 3 March - at the appointed time of 7:30 p.m., Molinier lie down across his bed in front of the mirror and shot himself in the mouth. This was the last encounter of Eros flouting Thanatos, eye to eye, until the final spasm of detonation. Baudelaire would have surely hailed the courage of this dandy, who lived and died in front of his mirror. An artist’s scruples, a last concern for his appearance prevented Molinier from photographing the fatal moment. It would have been easy for him to use string to attach the trigger - although he would have surely preferred the term “finger piece” – to attach the finger piece of the revolver to the cable release. He didn’t do it, undoubtedly so as not to leave the subtle operations of development and printing in the hands of strangers. What does exist, however – worlds apart from the Molinier method, for here, nothing is touched – are the photos for the Criminal Records Office. Only a handful of us have viewed them. A drizzle of blood runs from his nostril, another from the top of his skull. The gun’s kick sent the barrel back out of his mouth, and the Colt lies on his chest. One bullet and sputters of a flash were enough to wipe out any misunderstanding. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8b798e7352288ef6955d86350777491e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/67cb1739c5b9ee84a59fcf37841ac132_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e4dc4c99994e654bcc26934ee24c6f38_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4af335855fca214d6aa46259145d1ff7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ab8af31f46b4acba87d549e23bbe8a38_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8feb50ca91e9c91c1e3c728d291cd7dd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/23b6d1336acff1d14fa8497a4b9abb63_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fd1074180969c773677febe66bed3874_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/81caee23bf6a7c2eef59a5a598e80ce9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/559ec029e17e7e1f8adafba04a6e3e80_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a3db777ec6658a8d2c2877c6627ee6fc_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5cd57d24aae86eef1a5011ee84a825d3_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0f82e7aa4fd70cb078352c57f0303a1d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b1c3527413c5172390d0d1323aa9bd73_hd.jpg Dennis Nilsen quoted in Brian Master – Killing for Company: When I had the privacy of my own room as an N.C.O. sexual expression became more complex. The novelty of one’s own body soon wore off and I needed something positive to relate to. My imagination hit on the idea of using a mirror. By placing a large, long mirror on its side strategically beside the bed, I would view my own reclining reflection. At first always careful not to show my head, because the situation needed that I believe it was someone else. I would give the reflection some animation, but that play could not be drawn out long enough. The fantasy could dwell much longer on a mirror image which was asleep. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ee642432f5b523a5bf6ed5ef7144a190_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/92232468f447a2f1329534d871df6e75_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/eeed3600bfe860d1757e961e03a3251b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/aa2891cbedcbe993a7b5c671329e6a75_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/48a463ead535ac4486ec6128851eb803_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b6f6218e2ab54b413b2e6643440bbe55_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/16af68b46d482abdf17799461c057860_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c4291fe2f78648623ec6de1f0fa02e3b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/845a9963dbed126ba198ef7f74e134e2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3adad30235313ecc159a83ffe4d040b9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/969266146cea87bdc15c0bce69fd9d7b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5f1b122bfe71c0bec5863c5e896251b0_hd.jpg 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/163abbabe79e220300275351be6acaa8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ebe18f41bd2adc15281635ee30254fc7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/95cda85ff8d461d74ddc2d5384ce2e59_hd.jpg Infinity Land M throws the pig mask into the audience, turns around and faces the wall in the middle of the stage. After ca 40 seconds M turns around and walks over to the table, picks up the talcum powder, powders his face and arms carefully, picks up the box with eye shadow and paints his lips and eye sockets black with it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=hHmPF_JAflI https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/4336453f1e3b62de5a8875a0fc916512_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d8f55a237ec5cc63567714449e300ffe_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/92910447b53cb07b7752e44a7bd6b8ec_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/333a48cec98772ac0432ff000c986702_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/12d296f305544acb8d069b69d83c5d44_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/face5b8b1e3faf1f2f800c39f7ba98c8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c61a629d09d496c93fbb9cca58329896_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/842a904196ce52f231544bb856f42ac0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/b1a5fee8aa43268c552bddcc8e7e6e09_hd.jpg 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ca10e82eeeb3a1d6b0252cc37fff7cad_hd.jpg SANDMANN Bladh / Urbaniak (2019) Martin Bladh and Karolina Urbaniak’s short film Sandmann (2019) is a poetic take on E. T. A. Hoffmann’s tale of gothic terror The Sandman (1816) and Sigmund Freud’s essay The Uncanny (1919). Hoffmann’s short story became for Freud a fertile ground for his enquiry into concepts of doppelgangers, fear of death, castration anxiety, the evil eye, automatons, return of the repressed and repetition. In their film, based on Freudian leitmotifs, Bladh & Urbaniak retell the key moments of Hoffmann’s peculiar story in which we engage with the haunted inner world of the protagonist Nathaniel. The main focus is the threat of the Sandman figure - who punishes naughty children by ripping out their eyes - and the frightful power this spectre has over Nathaniel throughout his life. The film is also concerned with the mythological, universal concept of the Bogeyman, a figure which is present in almost every culture on Earth. Sandmann has been directed in the way of a symbolist marionette play, choosing a doll with a disembodied voice in the place of a human actor. It’s a condensation, a poem of self-destruction and a desperate yearning for extinction. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a3ad9c24592496b50934e146fb2951a9_hd.jpg ON THE NEW REVELATIONS OF BEING Multimedia release - Infinity Land Press 2018 Libretto & voice - Martin Bladh Sound, visuals & production - Karolina Urbaniak​ 'On The New Revelations of Being' is a multimedia work based on Antonin Artaud’s apocalyptic manifesto from 1937. It envisions the end of the world and the death of God through a series of cataclysmic occurrences of Artaudian cruelty. The piece was originally performed as a part of 'Artaud & Sound: To Have Done with the Judgment of God', at the Visconti Studio, London, on 15th September 2018. This final event in a series of events marking the 70th anniversary of Artaud’s death, after previous events at Cabinet and Whitechapel Gallery, focused on Artaud’s experiments with sound and noise, and on contemporary responses to them. This CD/DVD set contains the full audio recording, the backdrop film and the full libretto from the performance. DVD/CD Booklet - softbound, 24 pages, A5 Limited to 100 copies https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b99fbbc73abeb7fb18a701b0c9cd7b53_hd.jpg GASPER 2015 Written & directed by Martin Bladh and Karolina Urbaniak Photography & editing by Karolina Urbaniak Filmed in a seedy apartment with VHS camera, Martin Bladh and Karolina Urbaniak’s 55 minute feature starring Joseph Simpson-Bushell is a disturbing exploration of the dissociative mind. The still controversial 'multiple personality disorder' is used as a torturous means to unfold one man’s personal apocalypse. 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/c14485381f0b229690711474ff52e678_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a4ab971e73dc37a60d9cbbc81e4405ff_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/8505c599600ec5fef330a144f437b8b2_hd.jpg http://www.martinbladh.com/des 2024-10-18 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7d120a5a7b8dea6ff13d5a060e848736_hd.jpg Watch the full video https://www.infinitylandpress.com/unnaturalencounters https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e4ee6bd0d53b0e33d39e18d2ca747c42_hd.jpg DES: The Theatre of Death Martin Bladh’s DES: The Theatre of Death (its shorter version DES, was published by Paraphilia Studies, 2013) is a Gesamtkunstwerk based on the artist’s intimate obsession with the serial killer Dennis Nilsen (1945-2018). Over the last fifteen years Bladh has investigated the uncanny likeness in Nilsen’s romantic fantasy world to that of his own, and by using the killer as a persona – a Hyde Double – aimed to uncover new depths and unlock unknown extremes within himself. Dennis Nilsen, in his confessions, referred to his victims as masterpieces akin to great sculptures; beauty revealed through murder, his hands transmuting living, breathing matter into deathly aesthetic perfection. The way Nilsen directed his puppet theatre was in many ways similar to the carefully controlled and arranged nudes of Rudolf Schwarzkogler’s actions, or the erotically charged mise-en-scènes Hans Bellmer staged for his doll. This relation between criminal and artistic expression – the artist’s yearning for the outlaw, the criminal world of ‘forbidden’ desires, and the criminal’s need to express himself in an artistic, often theatrical way – has attracted Bladh for decades. The amorphous relationship between the executioner and his victim is a constantly recurring leitmotif in Bladh’s work, and in Nilsen’s Theatre of Death he finds the most sublime rendering of this discourse: ‘...an anonymous arena of necro-aesthetic devotion where the actor/director casts himself in the role of the victim – but, at the same time, also as the “potential” killer’s intended victim; a murder which was to be executed by the scenario’s originator, the killer himself.’ This new, extended version of DES – The Theatre of Death collects together Bladh’s own correspondence with the real-life killer, intimate collaborations with Shane Levene (the son of Nilsen’s fourteenth victim Graham Allen) psychogeography, creative writing, staged photographic series, performance documentation and scores. Note: DES: The Theatre of Death should not be confused with or connected to the ITV series Des (2020). https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/21e1e2b8786711f82355cb6f671e9a09_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/64c50df789e39d049cd5fc97ab929b42_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9f3a8e9dc0783b0bf6cc2c0d56bb4805_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ee3d9c2386bdc3511e1c770d5dd1ff92_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a28784bba12ac0c813d70f7455eec99b_hd.jpg Photography: Mikael Oretoft https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/9f61830952dbb274ad8f5ae21a3668ee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/eb611cc17fb284d564e4e95f2d0657ee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/12fe45cda61ba26903bd816abacd5b0d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/168335d798c1f3bc7829b32a7b0d4c8b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/44984ce2130f3c58ced4c7857192b374_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/786b350356c8e96ee19a226323df7e0b_hd.jpg 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ecf125e1fa02c8544ee543b33d69a0c8_hd.jpg Michael Carter lives by himself in a caravan somewhere in Yorkshire. He is a professional carer, a pathological artist and a pornographer. Until just recently, his work has been completely unknown to the world. Carter’s past is so ingrained within his psyche that it has formed a worldview of almost mythological proportions. Confronting his images for the first time, they give the impression that you are not just looking at a human being, but something extraterrestrial: an entity, bogeyman, something or someone that could incite urban legends or internet hoaxes. There is something so shockingly exceptional about this exposed, scarred, androgynous and emaciated body that we cannot turn away from it. Carter’s work invokes the Freudian notion of a compulsion to repeat: how an experienced trauma perpetually keeps repeating itself without any visible sign of closure or relief. The working methods become more refined and the medium is improved, yet the same ingrained leitmotifs remain constant: the ambiguous relationship between parent and child, between comfort and abuse; the terror and fascination with being born and giving birth; to be swallowed, to disappear and then to reappear; the uncertainty between titillation and castration; the search for adequate gender identity, a composite persona which encompasses the desired subject and the originator himself; the oscillation between self-love and disgust, and between the victim and the executioner… When Carter likens his work to the alchemical process, he is not concerned with spiritual gold, the Philosopher’s Stone or Jungian individuation. He remains firmly stuck in the mud of the initial, foul-smelling stage of the Opus and he has no intention of elevating himself above it. His mise-en-scène evokes crime scenes - the site of murders where the bodies are about to be dismembered before the final deposition - but most importantly, this is the Camera Obscura, the dark room, which leaves the artist suspended with his doubles, fears, obsessions and most disturbing desires. ... if abuse is constant then it could be said not to be abuse, merely constant attention, true love, without boundaries, like a slowly tightening noose. — Michael Carter Edited and annotated by Martin Bladh https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e4ee6bd0d53b0e33d39e18d2ca747c42_hd.jpg DES: The Theatre of Death Martin Bladh’s DES: The Theatre of Death (its shorter version DES, was published by Paraphilia Studies, 2013) is a Gesamtkunstwerk based on the artist’s intimate obsession with the serial killer Dennis Nilsen (1945-2018). Over the last fifteen years Bladh has investigated the uncanny likeness in Nilsen’s romantic fantasy world to that of his own, and by using the killer as a persona – a Hyde Double – aimed to uncover new depths and unlock unknown extremes within himself. Dennis Nilsen, in his confessions, referred to his victims as masterpieces akin to great sculptures; beauty revealed through murder, his hands transmuting living, breathing matter into deathly aesthetic perfection. The way Nilsen directed his puppet theatre was in many ways similar to the carefully controlled and arranged nudes of Rudolf Schwarzkogler’s actions, or the erotically charged mise-en-scènes Hans Bellmer staged for his doll. This relation between criminal and artistic expression – the artist’s yearning for the outlaw, the criminal world of ‘forbidden’ desires, and the criminal’s need to express himself in an artistic, often theatrical way – has attracted Bladh for decades. The amorphous relationship between the executioner and his victim is a constantly recurring leitmotif in Bladh’s work, and in Nilsen’s Theatre of Death he finds the most sublime rendering of this discourse: ‘...an anonymous arena of necro-aesthetic devotion where the actor/director casts himself in the role of the victim – but, at the same time, also as the “potential” killer’s intended victim; a murder which was to be executed by the scenario’s originator, the killer himself.’ This new, extended version of DES – The Theatre of Death collects together Bladh’s own correspondence with the real-life killer, intimate collaborations with Shane Levene (the son of Nilsen’s fourteenth victim Graham Allen) psychogeography, creative writing, staged photographic series, performance documentation and scores. Note: DES: The Theatre of Death should not be confused with or connected to the ITV series Des (2020). https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/becb97a19bef62e73ab725e46f424e0d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/600f58e1d2e97ea8021c3abeff87098f_hd.jpg The Torture of the 100 Pieces by Martin Bladh & Karolina Urbaniak Martin Bladh and Karolina Urbaniak's The Torture of The 100 Pieces, is an indirect reference to Georges Bataille’s obsession with a series of photographs depicting the Chinese execution technique Lingchi - “death by a thousand cuts.” Over a period of eight years Martin Bladh’s body was subjected to countless self-inflicted wounds, which have been carefully documented and aestheticised by Karolina Urbaniak’s camera. In this work Bladh’s presence exists primarily through the juxtaposition of Urbaniak’s photographs and accompanying written materials, these include extracts drawn from art criticism, true crime reportage, philosophy, explorations of literature, descriptions of public killings, online discussions of horrific videos, and mediations on the nature of acting. These text extracts share a common theme in tracing the complex and shifting relationships between the creative and the cruel, between art and violence, brutality and culture, and Bladh turns these words inwards, not simply through the process of reading but into his flesh. The close-up photography undertaken by Urbaniak makes the skin the primary focus of the viewer’s gaze; the textures and colours of the flesh resemble landscapes marked by disaster, inadvertently recalling aerial photographs of battlefields. These photographs emerge from, and seek to return to, a moment of timelessness, in which the body is opened and recontextualised. To view these pictures, the variety of injuries on display, is to be compelled to look. Yet this gaze is not seeking a revelatory moment, the sheer overwhelming selection of images prohibits the ready consumption of a singular truth. Instead each demands a new engagement from the viewer. Each text pushes thought in new directions. The series becomes a cycle of flesh hieroglyphs. Each injury becomes the source of its own meaning. - Jack Sargeant Text by Martin Bladh Photography by Karolina Urbaniak Foreword by Jack Sargeant https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ef0ca737682c765b40f4f5c091ef4efe_hd.jpg Contemporary #2: English Drama: Martin Bladh. Swedish-born Martin Bladh is a contemporary multimedia artist who has resided for a decade in London, England and established himself as a unique proponent of the New Theatre of Cruelty adhering to the original Antonin Artaud’s disrepute legacy. Hybridizing genres of drama, poetry and fiction Bladh gravitates toward performance art, actionism in particular, with its main focus on stage performativity based on Wiener Aktionismus (Viennese Action Art movement) of the 1960s to purposely shock through self-torture actions. Solidly accompanied with music and photography Bladh’s theatrical arsenal transcends the subject-matter traditionally tabooed by the mainstream, including the objectives of death, necrophilia, sadomasochism, pornography, narcissism, lustmord and monomania. The 2nd issue of the “Contemporary” series traces Bladh’s artistic genesis analysing his works throughout a 2004 – 2019 period to revisit the concepts of cruelty and violence as segments of the current underground art, a built-in element of the counter-culture superstructure. All the presented literary analyses are exclusively supported by the authorial photographs and collages, both disturbing and fascinating, therefore 21+ readers’ discretion is advised: nudity and acts of torture are graphically reproduced without condescension or censorship as homage to the artist’s intentions. The edition also includes the recent interview with Bladh as well as a substantial cross-cultural entry on his genre fundamentals: the Theatre of Cruelty retrospective and three influential artists, Antonin Artaud, Francis Bacon, and Hermann Nitsch, the artist finds relevant to his method. 2019 Contemporary #2: English Drama: Martin Bladh. Book. A5 format, 416 pages, an interview and analysis, 200+ pictures; full colour, digital press. A hardbound cover with a tassel. R 21+ https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b7bd2cd4d8c48e9d0483ea493342ad56_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/53234e827235219ce1950b891864ba09_hd.jpg Darkleaks - The Ripper Genome by Jeremy Reed & Martin Bladh Darkleaks – The Ripper Genome is a unique collaboration between Jeremy Reed and Martin Bladh that revisits the Jack the Ripper case from a brave new angle. Reed and Bladh are preoccupied less with who Jack the Ripper was than with who he became, his compulsions genetically scrambled into amalgams of hardwired obsession that re-manifest themselves in the figures of Ballard, Burroughs, Bacon, Peter Christopherson and Valerie Solanas, as though history were being driven on by the haywire velocity of Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, backfiring for a few instants into the poetry of Baudelaire but always centrifuged into the contemporary moment. The figure of Jack the Ripper disintegrates into multiple entities of obsessional creativity and murderous fixations, across London’s wastelanded, scorchearthed streets, only navigable via the blood-spurted vectors emitted from that multiplied figure’s victims. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c0175873b392163430b0bf6f0829745e_hd.jpg THE HURTIN' CLUB MARTIN BLADH Swedish artist Martin Bladh makes his Kiddiepunk debut with this searing experimental novella in the form of an evil children’s book* which explores the darkest corners of a child’s fantasy world. Doubling as an exploration of satanic ritual abuse and the different forms of therapy used on children to “prove” this abuse, “The Hurtin’ Club” is the culmination of Bladh’s personal investigations into the satanic panic phenomenon that spread through the Western world during the ‘80s and early ‘90s. Full colour, 52-page perfect bound book AVAILABLE NOW *Yeah, ahh… not actually for children. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7e3d726960c69a3387eed9e70432b1b9_hd.jpg THE RORSCHACH TEXT Freud Museum London 2015 & 2019 The Rorschach Text was originally published for the Festival of the Unconscious (2015). It is an introspective work in which the artist tries to unlock childhood anxieties, dreams and fantasies through aesthetic creation and free association. Bladh has subjected himself to Hermann Rorschach’s inkblot test and used the verbatim association texts as blueprints for ten mixed media collages; these pictures became triggers for memories, recurrent fantasies, dreams, artefacts and objects of significance related to the artist’s childhood, bringing together a unique, haunting autobiographical document. This expanded second edition includes a 20-page postscript by the artist and a foreword by Steve Finbow. Reading recording: https://thefreudmuseum.podbean.com https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/e7ec25991f2a1cec3130f4002315ea67_hd.jpg TO PUTREFACTION 2013 by Martin Bladh & Karolina Urbaniak Martin Bladh text Karolina Urbaniak photography Foreword by Jeremy Reed Putrefaction: disintegration of biological material (e.g. proteins) through the operation of microbes, disintegration of corpses (cadaver); the agents of putrefaction distinguish themselves partly through a (foul) distinctive smell: hydrogen sulphide, marcaptans, indole, skat-ole, phenol etc. Also appearing: methane, fatty acids, basic substances, usually poisonous, like neurine, putrescine, cadaverine and muscarine. I chose to believe that several known (and less known artist) have turned the aesthetic destruction inwards by staging poetic suicides as a closure to a mayor body of work. Their lives would be read like straight lines, their works indicated as dots upon these lines which reach contextual perfection in death: the last masterpiece. The protagonist life becomes a real life drama, his action, work and achievements are enacted as chapters in a novel or tracks on a concept album. The final act of self-annihilation would be his last sublime creation. I fantasise about earning my own pedestal in this private pantheon of beauty. – Martin Bladh https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/fb9f9ff9fd3d34186620055521ec88fd_hd.jpg DES In his confessions Nilsen muses over his victims and has referred to them as masterpieces akin to Michelangelo statues; a beauty released by him the artist, his hands animate the dead – or in this case living -matter into aesthetic perfection. The way he directed his puppet theatre in the late seventies and early eighties is in many ways similar to the carefully controlled and arranged nudes of Rudolf Schwarzkogler’s actions in the mid sixties or the erotically charged mise en scénes Hans Bellmer staged for his doll in the thirties. During his three decades in prison Nilsen has devoted himself to the arts: poetry, film manuscripts, musical composition, painting and has just lost a fierce struggle with the Home Office to get the permission to publish his biography History of a Drowning Boy. The relation between criminal and artistic expression: the artist’s yearning for the outlaw, his criminal world and desires and the criminal’s need to express himself in an artistic, often theatrical way has attracted Swedish artist Martin Bladh for years. According to him the Nilsen case might possibly be the most prominent example of this discourse. The tension between the executioner and the victim has always been Bladh’s main leitmotiv; both parts are of equal importance to him: “When I put myself in a situation which I find degrading or even repugnant, I wear the mask of the victim. When I make use of authentic voices from real life victims, put them in a new context where they are forced to act as characters in a peepshow staged and directed by me, I take on the mask of the perpetrator. Dennis Nilsen’s sexual fantasies strike me as potent representations of this paradox. Him impersonating a corpse – his own and that of his victim – in front of the mirror brings to mind Baudelaire’s poetic sublimation “I am the wound and the knife.” In these performances Nilsen becomes the murder victim, but it’s his victim, and he is the killer. Nilsen became my dark looking glass reflection and the mirror became be the primary arena of our sadomasochistic theatre, our corpses the universal vessels of necro-aesthetic fulfilment and devotion.” DES collects a variety of artistic meditations on the Nilsen case, ranging from the artist’s correspondence with the killer, staged photographs, drawings and interviews executed over a period of six years. Institute Of Paraphilia Studies 2013 A4 Softcover, 154 pages Chat conversation end https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7a34b585328def1e8cf81463f8a643f6_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/64c50df789e39d049cd5fc97ab929b42_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/15f2587c460a61119e3601842eb4faee_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ccd603010099d2867e688c37604eedda_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/1eb47423741153fab2e360ff2c177bed_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e7f842b2b4117774a10ae48b6677f801_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/eee4911636c5427454c2803deb545343_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/33faee4e10a9f0f1e4a4bf9beeed67df_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/46597874520cebfee0eab038deca7aa1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/98e6816669b2ebae43ffbc9669e5e9dd_hd.jpg QUALIS ARTIFEX PEREO by Martin Bladh and Bo I. Cavefors (2013) Qualis 2013 Qualis artifex pereo – translated What an artist the world loses in me, was the dying words of the infamous Roman emperor Nero. The phrase here marks what Bo I Cavefors and Martin Bladh through their performance-series The Theatre of the Decadence of Cruelty for several years have manifested: the close proximity between staged debauchery and oppressive violence transformed through artistic self-exploration; how humiliation can be handled when converted into enjoyment, sexual absolutism and a strict acceptation of its most profound consequences: sperm, blood and the crack of the whip; and in the end, the question: what is sensation in itself? One answer that is presented in this work is that sensation is a violent physical overload, an attack on the nervous system best handled completely naked, when one is bleeding and disappearing into sexual ecstasy. STYX förlag now presents QUALIS ARTIFEX PEREO - a book and a DVD. The book includes: – a manifesto – essays by the artists – in-depth interviews: Cavefors on Cavefors by Johannes Flink Bladh on Bladh by Peter Sotos discussing the nature of their art and their drives – 9 color collages by M.Bladh – a poem by M.Bladh intersected by a text amalgam based on works of Georges Bataille – original action scores for the performance pieces – the work INJURY The DVD includes two performance pieces: QUALIS ARTIFEX PEREO (40 min) performed and filmed in Malmö, 8th of June 2008. Actors: Bo I. Cavefors, Martin Bladh, Erica Li Lundqvist, Johanna Rosenqvist. Film: Aryan Kaganof. African Noise Foundation in association with Grymhetens Teater Dekadens Music: Martin Bladh Sound engineer: Mikael Oretoft QUALIS ARTIFEX PEREO – FINIS (27 min) performed and filmed in Norrköping, 12th of June 2009. Actors: Bo I. Cavefors, Martin Bladh, Johan Adolphi, Mikael Oretoft. Film: Peter Andersson, Lars Bosma Music: Martin Bladh plus the extra feature INSULT - a video work by Martin Bladh (15 min) https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4c2c481bc30a892dd0ecdeda0c846de7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/44984ce2130f3c58ced4c7857192b374_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/34d9ef3df52e5b066e259ec93a72ef95_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0ad20d865db13a8dc6d1dc0a277a2f84_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/e9244d16d7b8e8ce3a98a8c1c42955d8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f57bf4c19c08d1f47d924431a5396b00_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/eb3c05b52bea07f984f95c1f6a8120c1_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/cc5ae12a869f655c405b6ef1695574a4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0e406c80b9bb4d638ee48749e59ef9ce_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8320e5e47b79705d0f48fdcb832ce6e9_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/076ab88070b914e6b1a2db86bc02adbd_hd.jpg 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https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/653e6c9323ca6c9691be550853fa55c7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/ea89799b26bde0e46919330a2102e642_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/957fb4a6dace329da4c9fd83b6182172_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b16716b0ce2a4077b3b504c0ce7a9f15_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8eaf6da5e473c49ec8ac51616793824e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d162218cd1f065ab54e41bb4af1e5170_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b4e4c9e24c64a0567cc2e40daf624f7f_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/20215d18aa5d3741049c68b89d95e572_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/92e4715233e05a1f2cb16acec2e37c9f_hd.jpg http://www.martinbladh.com/exhibitions-1 2024-10-18 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/40619820d7856c48d92fc09854f4dc41_hd.jpg Anathemata 9 October 2021 - 6 February 2022 Antonin Artaud, Martin Bladh, Pierre Guyotat, Paul-Alexandre Islas, David Jones, Sarah Kane, James Richards, Karolina Urbaniak Curated by Pierre-Alexandre Mateos and Charles Teyssou Anathemata is a display that interrogates the tradition of epic poetry within a tetrad of 20th century avant-garde artists; David Jones, Antonin Artaud, Sarah Kane and Pierre Guyotat. These four artists are presented alongside contemporary artists Martin Bladh, Paul-Alexandre Islas, James Richards and Karolina Urbaniak through a display of manuscripts, drawings and videos. The exhibition title is borrowed from David Jones’s eponymous poem published in 1952. A British poet and artist of Welsh descent, Jones is considered a leading figure within modernist poetry along with James Joyce and T. S. Eliot. His poem, The Anathemata, investigates the importance of mythology within the history of humanity from a modernist perspective. Written in the aftermath of the Second World War and interweaving Welsh and English late medieval sources, it defends the importance of epic narratives, fables and myths against the desacralising effect of modernism. Considered Jones’ seminal work, The Anathemata narrates the thought processes of a cambrophile over the span of roughly seven seconds at an English Catholic Mass. Using Old, Middle and Early-Modern English, Welsh, and Latin, The Anathemata questions the importance of past mythology within human history – from the Iron Age in Cornwall and Tudor London to Penda’s Mercia and the Welsh “Otherworld” – in a highly allusive and nonlinear fashion. In this text, Jones also stresses the importance of the artist as an inventor and bearer of myths. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a095b22dffd58bfb5ba36e3ba0639667_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d893857c6fdd3927c2bec146fa4e7802_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/29816e47ca36c7242896422164c40dd3_hd.jpg No Breath of Sound - The History of Drowning No Breath of Sound - The History of Drowning ’ is the pinnacle of a collaboration between Karolina Urbaniak and Martin Bladh. It’s the third and final part of a trilogy - including the series ‘Coup de grâce’ and ‘To Putrefaction’ - which explores the artist's personal obsession with beauty and death. ‘Not the physical person, but her very individual way of declassifying shape Karolina sees into disinformation, so that the focus being a step-change ahead of what she shoots into a body breathing helium and not oxygen. In a very real way Martin is the cryonic agent to transformation, the near-frozen body time-slipped into physical abstraction.’ – Jeremy Reed Captured against the backdrop of south England’s seashore Urbaniak’s photographs transmute Bladh’s naked body into posthuman landscapes, making it the centre and the sole protagonist in a static theatre of death. Each photograph corresponds with a piece of text carefully chosen and juxtaposed by Bladh. The History of Drowning is a fragmented, romantic ode which combines the deaths of Dutch artist Jas Ban Ader with Ludwig ll of Bavaria, the executions of the early christian martyrs with the American Smiley Face Murders, and the disaster victims of Kaho Lak with the suicide lovers leap from the Yangtze River Bridge in China. The evening will also include a screening of Karolina Urbaniak’s short film The Island of Death based on the second series of the Death Trilogy To Putrefaction. https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/eb330ba172669cebf826adb18fbf58ed_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/fb254eed9da0fc1793b61803d63469fd_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/39ae278d02f1c204dd1e0f81047e3ac0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/206bfe695dbe5a5d730ea5ae2aff9d11_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/076b91d59fa37a52918c46543afcfede_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ca954f92783ab898e9467f54ed7319d2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c39d09185d2f213bbf9c91493b11f67c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3cd9ebbbb2d612df6158e6e4a65b9bfe_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/692a9853ac077c6807c9c85f20d7aaae_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/df12ee27085a4ed36d2d7acd2f11a671_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/158a6258e0eb146d3b9d0bf8ca50e772_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/1b65a7f252e0d05c26cdec4891a33ed2_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3c5804c609230fe70f292b5d45640578_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/de56d7a1e91542cf2b749f6db2b09f96_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f2d2165b4544cdf313479ba86b196158_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0ac8c2b3388608714c9c030d217b316b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/37a030ad98948ef4e46db40a3dbcadd8_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7513ef3fbfe2d5d2fdac9cfddcf79308_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4aef4a51b68e014e7c6663790bab746d_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/6fe196b844bc369ab18c9a8ee3529a42_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/da237153c1484b04d8af206a6d0e3b0c_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/5b032f88d8ee629f5a25787cc1701931_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/ff96ba3af2560af971d0911c01ca2d0b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/f486fe7fe45e07416e56606d08cc9353_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/0aace020e6151cfc9a1a3cf8912f84b4_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4004b058f2416282538d769149948a5a_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/8601961f01795b49ff6736e378dad629_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/de6dfdab707e609402c05a185c1ecfd0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/0b80175f8afc68ceca64a7b8a869cca5_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3a8701c5326b4652b4dca307f855db2e_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f781dedc9ad839bd243bc07f6dbbaa53_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/4a7896a94e0118314ee172b7d3ea2568_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/1e59f8e8bc9227f8959688a3c8ec71b0_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/bdaa22ff9897d2a63c727c0822ef3977_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/3c3b9ca2c71a6992818491a6f9ff6a95_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9621e8d4e2585873c3d2d58303eedce7_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/a04fc1d154db4efdf3e66eb14c8ac17b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/923320838afe9e84789cbe37743f0344_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9b661c08cf6ee7e11db0429f6cd24554_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/f84111e8ac2d9745845cd52ed2ee053b_hd.jpg https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/eb4b6312cd0402ef36156fa56ef33a49_hd.jpg Sandmann Commissioned for 'The Uncanny: A Centenary' an exhibition at the Freud Museum London. https://www.freud.org.uk/exhibitions/the-uncanny-a-centenary/ https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/d84f732fe5ce5365b307ce9b5ea7894e_hd.jpg http://www.martinbladh.com/music 2020-06-08 weekly 0.5 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/03015b835e96b93502f777ccaa80e88f_hd.jpg Bladh/Urbaniak - On The New Revelations of Being, (CD + DVD), Infinity Land Press, 2018 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/6db6da578b37c15a960eef5c511127ca_hd.jpg Martin Bladh, Jeremy Reed & Karolina Urbaniak - Darkleaks - The Ripper Genome, (CD, EP), Infinity Land Press, 2017 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/31bf46acca63f5a29904d22729018dc9_hd.jpg Martin Bladh & Sektor 304, (CDr, Album), Annihilvs, 2014 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/c649a550d359196c0a48130f7527c636_hd.jpg Irm - Closure, (CD, Album), Malignant Records, 2014 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3e888ceb51585bc417b159b3ee32cc48_hd.jpg Skin Area/Jarl - Le Petite Mort, (LP, Album), Malignant Records, 2014 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9a53a4b88ea27d2dccb9ee8ee033913b_hd.jpg Skin Area - Rothko Field, (CD, Album), Malignant Records, 2012 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7852ae6e7d17198d191561bbb73c1af9_hd.jpg Martin Bladh & Bo I. Cavefors - The Island of Death, (CD, Album), Freak Animal Records, 2012 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/93280b2e5705150cabb3576972271ae4_hd.jpg Irm - Anthology, (2xCD, Comp Album), Autarkeia, 2012 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/765e87e3e175950a214175b51e3013cb_hd.jpg Irm - Order4, (CD, Album), Cold Meat Industry, 2010 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/abd026638e1c8115a2cd4c5a90c0d4ef_hd.jpg Martin Bladh - Study for a Theatre of Cruelty, (CD, Album), Annihilvs, 2009 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d0dc72a907a6961ee6e7f10bfe75f204_hd.jpg Martin Bladh - Dirge; The Peter Sotos File, (CD, Album), Freak Animal Records, 2008 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/187483bfa6bd69e445e6c9da405ff67b_hd.jpg Martin Bladh & Bo I. Cavefors - Three Studies for a Crucifixion; A Passion Play in Three Acts; Dedicated to Francis Bacon, (CD + DVD), Firework Edition, 2008 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/d8d27022553b0629437206b3324bf0cd_hd.jpg Irm - Indications of Nigredo, (12”, EP), Segerhuva, 2008 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/df3efcd12b6081634a19f6ac06797c8c_hd.jpg Irm - The Cult of the Young Men, (CD, Album), Annihilvs, 2007 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/945e06143006ee5467bbcdb90f9127d9_hd.jpg Skin Area - Journal Noir/Lithium Path, (2xCD, Album), 2006 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/67bd987648a864bccb5c88f75f9d175e_hd.jpg Skin Area - Journal Noir/Lithium Path, (2xCD, Album), 2006 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b7b9e3cfcddce8752d1c21148dbcfa35_hd.jpg Skin Area - Muzak EP, (10”, EP), Rev/Vega Records, 2005 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/b10e4fdca3b626d8cde85f1d2162d811_hd.jpg Irm - Virgin Mind, Cold Meat Industry, (2xCD, Album), 2005 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/3c35f3b3b3633c680546defa58129a56_hd.jpg Martin Bladh - Umbilical Cords, (CD, Album), Segerhuva, 2005 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/65724e35784f112bfc2e545b671e12a1_hd.jpg Irm - An Act of Self-Mutilation is an Act of Freedom, (CDr, Mini Album), Annihilvs, 2003 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/9ee2280d2591187bd8195d4ac67ca089_hd.jpg Irm/Skin Area, (10”, EP), Segerhuva, 2002 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/099cad2bc1039eab54b1821ad24761a7_hd.jpg Skin Area - New Skin, (CD, Album), Cold Meat Industry, 2002 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/7dd7b3875b031048b5d3c7f711c4dd31_hd.jpg Irm - Four Studies for a Crucifixion, (10”, EP) Cold Meat Industry, 2002 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/12284a2df8e67dfe845760e30efc636e_hd.jpg Irm - Oedipus Dethroned, (CD, Album), Cold Meat Industry, 2000 https://imageproxy.viewbook.com/82346/a46bba223c7924e06149b17db959131f_hd.jpg Irm - Red Album, (LP, Album), Cold Meat Industry, 1999 http://www.martinbladh.com/interviews 2024-10-18 weekly 0.5 http://www.martinbladh.com/about 2020-06-08 weekly 0.5 http://www.martinbladh.com/contact 2020-06-08 weekly 0.5 http://www.martinbladh.com/links 2024-10-21 weekly 0.5