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Bloodmilk: Katabasis

My perennial favorite jeweler, Bloodmilk, has come out with a new collection, Katabasis (from the Ancient Greek for “descent,” meaning a journey to the Underworld). The pieces are inspired by various elements of Hadean mythology, including Lethe, the river of forgetting, Hekate, the witch goddess who holds the keys to the Underworld, Orpheus who descended in order to bring back his doomed bride Eurydice, the terrible Morai who spin and cut the thread of fate for all mortals. Iridescent moonstones and onyx nest within intricate oxidized settings which seem to blend the ancient with the modern, the elegant sparrow claws and bat bones of Bloodmilk’s iconography forming cradles for the jewels.

Jessica’s statement for the Psychopomp ring is touching and lovely:

…the first iteration was meant to serve as a devotional ring to yourself, a declaration of accepting all of the sharp, inky, messy parts of yourself…your inability to mask at all times…your inability to say the right thing when you “need to”…that you can’t quite seem to feel good any day of the week… This first ring meant accepting these things, wearing a ring that meant belonging to all of the parts of yourself, saying “yes” to every little part, no matter how much society says “no.”

Many years later, this newer version of this ring means all of these things, and it also means you have permission to change too, you have permission to face these things and to chip away at any of them and any of them I missed, and you have support too…something to touch and turn on your finger to know you’re not alone, that I believe magic is real and you’re allowed to believe that too, in whatever way that word resonates for you.

It’s my wish that you’re not alone. That you feel safe and protected, whether it’s with this ring or not, whether it’s with the pages of a book, with the kinship of others…with knowing someone else feels the same way and is working on it too, is also just accepting the same things about themselves too.

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Nikolay Tolmachev

The delicate watercolors of Nikolay Tolmachev are playful, irreverent, and surreal. Taking themes from mythology such as Leda and the swan, as well as classical painting, Tolmachev creates juxtapositions that partake of the humorously absurd as well as the fragilely beautiful. He depicts limpid-eyed boys and girls with milk-white flesh, birds, angels, and flowers. With a largely pink, white, and red palette of flesh-and-blood tones, the exquisite mottling of colors which gives such a realism and also often lends a rosy flush to the subjects, has a tenderness that contrasts with the sometimes crude concepts of the images. These paintings are a bit eerie and unnerving, as well as wonderfully lovely and light. The ironic eroticism in his work seems to comment upon the lost (or perhaps never-existent) innocence of youth, the entanglements of romantic relationships, ties that bind, metamorphoses.

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The Writhing Anatomy of Melancholy: Artwork by Christina Mrozik

Christina Mrozik’s intricate drawings and paintings imaginatively fuse animal and plant life in order to explore inner worlds. Organic decay, exposed anatomy, unnatural amalgamations of natural entities are common features, with her signature delicate ribbony skeletons resembling grass. Sometimes the animals are wrapped around, shrouded, or embraced by a cage of the grass-like ribbons/bones. Birds emerge gruesomely from the exposed and lacerated throats of larger birds. The precisely drawn depictions of strangely hybridized, combined, distorted, multiplied, fractional creatures are wildly expressive, summoning specters of pain, beauty, and transformation. Snakes, rabbits, doves, seabirds with their merciless gaze…all are pitifully dissected and tenderly displayed, complexly mingled and interwoven, to illustrate phases of the human condition.

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David Altmejd’s Hare

I love David Altmejd’s eerie epoxy Hare (2022) sculpture. It has the quality of a sketch made three-dimensional, with its rather sickish green palette of acrylic paint and colored pencil. This bizarre creature, with its unsettlingly lifelike blue eye, is both evocative of the childhood appeal of rabbits, of incarnations of anthropomorphic rabbits, and yet repellently uncanny. As Altmejd states, “A perfect object for me is something that is extremely seductive and extremely repulsive at the same time.”

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Otherworldly Gems by Omnia Studios

Omnia Studios fashions gorgeous, lavish, surreal and fantastic jewelry. Themes of the occult and mythology predominate, taking inspiration from a range of supernatural symbols and iconography, including cartomancy, Puritan winged skulls, the Moirae (Greek goddesses of fate), and Spiritualist planchettes. One of my favorite pieces is the absolutely incredible Charon’s Lantern Amulet, which represents the lamp of the river Styx’s ferryman, containing quartz crystals for illumination and held by two little ghostly hands. Bold, ornate, and baroque, these splendid jewels are perfect for darkly luxurious occasions or as everyday, beautifully odd statement pieces.

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Immortal Veil: The Art of Maëva Stancil

Maëva Stancil’s lovely dotwork drawings convey a sense of occult grandeur. A cold glitter of stars, skulls, sigils, moths, and sprays of flowers create a visual language for a mystical world made ominous by statuesque hooded figures and mysterious disembodied hands. The medieval combines with fantasy elements in a style that is spare, yet rich with the suggestion of arcane knowledge. Grim and somber as the strange figures are, their foreboding is offset by the fragments of nature surrounding them.

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Ghoulishly Beautiful Portraits by Roberto Diaz

The gory and rather sensationalist mixed-media creations of Roberto Diaz are wonderfully disturbing. Diaz combines traditional drawing with digital painting to execute darkly surreal portraits of dignified figures from past epochs, deformed by monstrous changes, additions, and appalling transformations. He uses a somber palette with warm, burnished tones which is evocative of the Old Masters, offset by the more lurid reds of the blood and grisly flesh. There is a constant tension and balance between the repulsive and the pleasing in all Diaz’s works.

A multiplicity of eyes, breaches in flesh, gaping maws, woeful signs of decay and ruin warp these subjects painted with a beautifully classical quality, who are often surrounded by a sort of halo or bubble of air. They are blessed – or kept alive – by graceful swirls of thin red tubes like veins or IV lines. The skeletal noses, stitches, and exposed subcutaneous flesh are reminiscent of rotting cadavers, while other distortions look as if their bodies had been cloven and fused back imperfectly. The tearfulness of some of these beings leads one to feel that they suffer terribly, with the ceremonial, grave sadness of those looking out at us from history. They possess the mournfulness and piety of old paintings, while at the same time they are corrupted by this macabre modern aesthetic which seeks to amalgamate and subvert all.

There is an alluring, palpable luster and glisten to the gore and viscera in Diaz’s paintings, the substance of the imperfect bodies. Unsubtle in horror, intensely impactful, the verisimilitude and level of technical achievement, the masterly chiaroscuro, draw in and seduce the eye. The juxtaposition between aesthetic pleasingness and sinister conception exploits our instinctual revulsion against perceived flaws and deformities in the human visage. This accomplishes a profanation of the allegedly divine, marries the lovely with the hideous, and evokes in us a delicious combination of disturbance and aesthetic gratification.

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Childhood

We enjoy the immense freedom of dreams, in which nobody believes, except as a joke, to share on coming down to breakfast.
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Children are not expected to think, but are allowed to suffer, and rehearse the future… In at the windows floats the scent of hot, wet nettles and the long summer. The yellow dressing-table drawers are smelling of emptiness. We have not arranged our things, who will not be staying long in this house.


O childhood of moonlight [and] solid statues! How solid, I broke off an arm to prove, and the smell of the wound was the smell of gunpowder and frost. Often the footsteps were not mine that fell along the gravel paths…other voices would carry my song out of my control… All were turning gravely in the dance, only I was the prisoner of stone.
When I no longer expected, then I was rewarded by knowing: so it is. We do not meet but in distances, and dreams are the distance brought close. The glossy mornings are trampling horses. The rescue-rope turns to hair. Prayer is, indeed, stronger, but what is strong?
O childhood, O illusions, time does not break your chain of coloured handkerchiefs, nor fail to produce the ruffled dove….

–Patrick White, Voss