Limited Edition

LIMITED EDITION BLENDS
No imp’s ears are available for Limited Edition scents.
Presented in an amber apothecary glass vial.

Note: only 5ml bottles are offered in our limited edition scents. Please check the BPAL forum for stock updates. No samples can be requested for any limited edition scents, as they are not taken into consideration or assimilated into stock when the limited edition oils are made. Simply put: there are none to give. If you request a sample of a limited edition scent, we will swap for a random “permanent” scent.

  • Fuck This Heat

    What global warming? Slivers of ice to cool things down, lavender and hops flower to soothe the nerves.

    Proceeds benefit getting the goddamn AC fixed in the front parlor at BPAL so Teddy and Claire don’t sweat to death and we don’t roast people alive at Lunacy.

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2018

The skies have darkened, and summer’s last bright green leaf has turned. Halloween is here at Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

  • All Souls

    A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory.

    An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

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  • Blue Ghost Blues

    I feel myself sinkin’ down
    I feel myself sinkin’ down
    My body is freezin’
    I feel something cold creepin’ around

    My windows is rattlin’
    My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
    My windows is rattlin’
    My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
    This haunted house blues is killin’ me
    I feel myself sinkin’ down

    I been fastin’ in this haunted house
    Six long months today
    I been fastin’ in this haunted house
    Six long months today
    The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord
    And I can’t get away

    They got shotguns and pistols
    Standin’ all round my door
    They got shotguns and pistols
    Standin’ all round my door
    They haunt me all night long
    So I can’t sleep no more

    The Blue Ghost haunts me all night
    The nightmare rides me all night long
    The Blue Ghost haunts me at night
    The nightmare rides me all night long
    They worry me so in this haunted house
    I wished I was dead and gone
    – Lonnie Johnson

    A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.

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  • Bonfire Toffee

    Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.

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  • Dia De Los Muertos

    A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte… Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant “…chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love.” This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

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  • Feeding the Dead

    A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

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  • Ghost Music

    Gloomy and bare the organ-loft,
    Bent-backed and blind the organist.
    From rafters looming shadowy,
    From the pipes’ tuneful company,
    Drifted together drowsily,
    Innumerable, formless, dim,
    The ghosts of long-dead melodies,
    Of anthems, stately, thunderous,
    Of Kyries shrill and tremulous:
    In melancholy drowsy-sweet
    They huddled there in harmony.
    Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.

    – Robert Graves

    Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.

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  • Ghoulish

    Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron.

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  • Huesos de Santo

    On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint’s Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.

    Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.

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  • Inside the Golden Amber of Her Eyeballs

    A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
    your sight can knock on, echoing; but here
    within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze
    will be absorbed and utterly disappear:

    just as a raving madman, when nothing else
    can ease him, charges into his dark night
    howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels
    the rage being taken in and pacified.

    She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
    into her, so that, like an audience,
    she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
    and curl to sleep with them. But all at once

    as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
    and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
    inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
    suspended, like a prehistoric fly.

    – Rainer Maria Rilke

    Sleek black fur and gleaming amber shining in the shadows, a rumble of myrrh, and claws as sharp as ti leaf.

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  • Lambs-Wool

    According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman’s Magazine for May of 1784 stated, “this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve.” He also quotes Vallancey’s etymological speculation: “The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, — that is, the day of the apple fruit, — and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool.”

    A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

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  • Magnificent Autumn

    By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.

    Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

    The scene changes.

    It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and

    A filmy mist,
    Lies like a silver lining on the sky.

    The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!

    Another change.

    The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.

    A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.

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  • Midnight Bonfire

    Lighting the path between worlds, the beacon at the threshold: night-blooming jasmine, smoldering maple leaves, a cluster of patchouli and blackened ti leaf, black sage, and pinewood smoke.

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  • Pumpkin Crème Brulee

    With vanilla bean scrapings.

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  • Pumpkin Dust

    Shavings of white pumpkin rind and honey powder.

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  • Pumpkin Musk and Black Oudh

    A strangely romantic, disturbingly erotic perfume.

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  • Pumpkin Tobacco

    Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.

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  • Samhain

    Truly the scent of autumn itself — damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

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  • Samhainophobia

    The Fear of Halloween

    Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

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  • Scarecrow Turned Philosopher

    Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this
    lonely field.”

    And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
    never tire of it.”

    Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have
    known that joy.”

    Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

    Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
    me.

    A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

    And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
    under his hat.

    – Kahlil Gibran

    Corn husks waving on an autumn breeze, beams of amber sunlight, hay bales, and late summer wildflowers.

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  • Suck It

    Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.

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  • The Hag

    The Hag is astride,
    This night for to ride;
    The Devill and shee together:
    Through thick, and through thin,
    Now out, and then in,
    Though ne’r so foule be the weather.

    A Thorn or a Burr
    She takes for a Spurre:
    With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,
    Through Brakes and through Bryars,
    O’re Ditches, and Mires,
    She followes the Spirit that guides now.

    No Beast, for his food,
    Dares now range the wood;
    But husht in his laire he lies lurking:
    While mischiefs, by these,
    On Land and on Seas,
    At noone of Night are working,

    The storme will arise,
    And trouble the skies;
    This night, and more for the wonder,
    The ghost from the Tomb
    Affrighted shall come,
    Cal’d out by the clap of the Thunder.

    Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.

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  • The Hare

    In the black furrow of a field
    I saw an old witch-hare this night;
    And she cocked her lissome ear,
    And she eyed the moon so bright,
    And she nibbled o’ the green;
    And I whispered ‘Whsst! witch-hare,’
    Away like a ghostie o’er the field
    She fled, and left the moonlight there.

    A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.

    Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.

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  • The Witch Bride

    A fair witch crept to a young man’s side,
    And he kiss’d her and took her for his bride.

    But a Shape came in at the dead of night,
    And fill’d the room with snowy light.

    And he saw how in his arms there lay
    A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

    And he rose in haste, and follow’d the Shape
    Till morning crown’d an eastern cape.

    And he girded himself, and follow’d still
    When sunset sainted the western hill.

    But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,
    Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

    (Aw, c’mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

    Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

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  • This Wan White Humming Hive

    And where should the living feel alive
    But here in this wan white humming hive,
    As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
    And one by one they creep back to the fold?
    And where should a man hold his mate and say:
    “One more, one more, ere we go their way”?
    For the year’s on the turn, and it’s All Souls’ night,
    When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

    White patchouli leaf, beeswax, ambergris, and pale incense.

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  • When All Colors to Black Are Cast

    In night when colors all to black are cast,
    Distinction lost, or gone down with the light;
    The eye a watch to inward senses placed,
    Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,

    Gives vain alarums to the inward sense,
    Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny,
    Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense,
    Doth forge and raise impossibility:

    Such as in thick depriving darknesses,
    Proper reflections of the error be,
    And images of self-confusednesses,
    Which hurt imaginations only see;

    And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils,
    Which but expressions be of inward evils.

    – Lord Brooke Fulke Greville

    Ink-black musk and dried blackberries, midnight opoponax and sweet labdanum.

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  • Yipe

    In the vein (GET IT) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2018 - All Hallows Chaos

Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent.

Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and each bottle is unique.

Hail Eris! After a long hiatus, Chaos Theory is back!

This year, the aforementioned chaos is expressing itself through decidedly seasonal metaphors associated with gathering the harvest and welcoming the “dark half” of the year. Is it comfort you seek, or incantations whispered through a tear in the Veil? Thanks to the options below, you don’t have to choose — you can have it both ways!
This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each bottle is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.

Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that’s the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:VIII or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.

By purchasing CT:VIII, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project.

Each CT:VIII scent has a base inspired by one of our favorite ‘Weenies, in wildly varying proportions:

  • ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: PUMPKIN SPICE

    “Variety is the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”
    ― William Cowper, 1785

    Forget about the War on Christmas — the year’s most contentious seasonal battle is actually waged over this inescapable melange of palate-massaging flavors. We’ve got the formula down pat, and invite you to join us in a mad-science experiment: Just how far can we bend it before it breaks?

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  • ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: SAMHAIN

    “Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”
    ― Mary Shelley, 1831

    This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2018 - Masque of the Red Death

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven –an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue –and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange — the fifth with white — the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet –a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

Art by Tenebrous Kate

Words by Edgar Allan Poe

Scents by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

  • A CERTAIN NAMELESS AWE

    But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple — through the purple to the green — through the green to the orange — through this again to the white — and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.

    Death unimpeded: bone-white sandalwood, dry cognac, and chilled ambergris accord.

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  • A DEADLY TERROR THAT HAD SEIZED UPON ALL

    It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.

    He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry –and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

    The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.

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  • A GIGANTIC CLOCK OF EBONY

    It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

    The chiming of the clock: ebony wood and black pepper, narcissus blossom and tuberose, clanging with dull, heavy opoponax and thick olibanum.

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  • A GROUP OF PALE COURTIERS

    It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly — for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

    It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.

    A sycophant’s polished stench: green musk fougere, lime, and rose-tufted wig powder.

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  • A MASKED BALL OF THE MOST UNUSUAL MAGNIFICENCE

    It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

    Opulent golden oudh, red benzoin, and bitter almond.

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  • A MULTITUDE OF DREAMS

    There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these — the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.

    A blackened lavender mist, thick with opoponax, licorice root, and benzoin.

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  • ALL IS SILENT SAVE THE VOICE OF THE CLOCK

    And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.

    Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.

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  • GLARE AND GLITTER AND PIQUANCY AND PHANTASM

    He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in “Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.

    Delirious fancies such as the madman fashions, arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments: orris absolute and leather contorted by cherry and orange blossom.

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  • HAPPY AND DAUNTLESS AND SAGACIOUS

    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.

    Imprisoned in frenzied joy: ribbons of raspberry and red currant streaming through thick goat’s milk.

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  • ILLIMITABLE DOMINION OVER ALL

    And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

    Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death: blood musk and black tobacco, birch tar and bleeding cypress sap.

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  • IT WAS FOLLY TO GRIEVE, OR TO THINK

    The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.

    Ginger-squeezed champagne with crushed diamonds, orange blossoms, and peach blossoms.

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  • THE NIGHT IS WANING AWAY

    But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.

    Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.

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  • THE RED DEATH

    The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal –the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

    Splatters of red musk, bruise-purple violets, vetiver, and pimento.

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  • THE SCARLET HORROR

    In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood –and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

    When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

    “Who dares?” he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him — “who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him — that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!”

    Blasphemous mockery: blood musk and vetiver.

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  • THE SOUNDING OF MIDNIGHT UPON THE CLOCK

    And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise –then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

    Terror, horror, and disgust: a bowel-churning sweet clench of myrhh and green musk in a pool of suffocating black moss and a shock of white cognac.

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  • THE TASTES OF THE DUKE WERE PECULIAR

    But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

    The swirl of a thousand glittering vices: absinthe and laudanum, opium poppy and neroli, star anise and black currant, whip leather and iron shackles, gilded vanilla flower and King mandarin.

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  • THERE WAS BEAUTY, THERE WAS WINE

    The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

    Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.

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Limited Edition - Halloween 2018 - Pickman Gallery 2018

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
ARKHAM’S PICKMAN GALLERY ACQUIRES CURIOUS COLLECTION OF GOAT ART, DEEMED ‘GREATEST OF ALL TIME’
Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra on view at the Pickman Gallery from September 22 to December 28, 2018, Arkham, MA

— On view from September 18 through December 28, 2018 at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra. Greatest Of All Time is guest curated by the Santa Fe Art Institute’s Antonia Vasquez-Thackeray, who also holds a degree in Livestock Science. In this first-of-its-kind exhibition, Mx. Vasquez-Thackeray explores the social co-evolution of humankind and goatkind, a history which stretches back at least 10,000 years. Researchers note that goat remains have been found at archaeological sites in Western Asia including Jericho, Choga Mami, Djeitun, and Çayönü.

Via their innate curiosity and horizontally-pupilled eyes, goats have enjoyed a unique view of human civilization, and our ancestors’ myths and legends have proven us nothing if not fearful of their scrutiny. “Our projections in terms of goat consciousness and goat archetypes have eclipsed anything a goat might tell us about us, or itself,“ Vasquez-Thackeray writes in the introduction to her upcoming MY GOAT, MY INQUISITOR, a salvo against the bias and anthropomorphism that has infected the relations between these two closely interrelated worlds — but which carefully does not disavow the propensity for deceit, diabolism and witchcraft within Caprian mind.

Greatest of All Time consists of works hand-selected to commune with our species’ most recent common ancestor. About this evolutionary MacGuffin, Max Robinson, Ph.D. Molecular Biology and Biotechnology & Evolutionary Genetics, University of Washington, has written: “Millions of years ago, there was some kind of animal that eventually evolved into both goats and humans. It probably had claws rather than hooves or hands. It had a liver, four legs, eyes, and a brain, just like humans and goats still do.”

Unfathomably, a lineage extends directly from that ancestor to this season’s exhibition, which will serve as a family reunion of sorts: several goats from Vasquez-Thackeray’s personal herd will be in residence as docents throughout the duration of the show. (Their reactions to the art as well as to the guests will be recorded via motion-capture and analyzed by individuals from SFAI, MIT, and, by special request, members of Arkham’s Thousand Young Lodge.
Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra promises to feature works by Francisco Goya, J.J. Grandville, Cornelis Saftleven, Johann Christian Reinhart, and Otto Goetze which have never appeared in the same collection before — and by special clause in our arrangement, never will again.

A private, goats-only reception will be held at Pickman Gallery on opening night, September 22, 2018, from midnight until 3am, featuring a special performance by New York drag troupe The Nobodies. RSVP required. Refreshments provided by our perennial sponsors, Sister Shoggoth’s Microbrewery (Home of the original Protoplasmic Bubble Beer), Innsmouth Harbor Fishery, and the Old Arkham Cheese Shoppe.

Sponsorship
Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra was made possible by the generous support of Elizabeth Barrial, director of the Black Phoenix Foundation for the Arts, and TJ Barrial, Visual Arts Professor and Department Chair at the Dunwich Academy of Arts, and was organized for the Celephaïs Athenæum by Brian Constantine, Curator of Sculpture for the Clark Ashton Smith Memorial Gallery. Negtotiatios for the re-aquisition of the Goya piece were handled pro bono by Tom Blunt of the NYC/LA firm Blunt Force Management.

About the Pickman Gallery
The Pickman Gallery is the Miskatonic Valley’s premier privately-owned art gallery. Founded in 1923 by interdimensionally renowned portrait artist Richard Upton Pickman, the Gallery offers the Miskatonic Valley community a dynamic roster of stimulating, dread-provoking exhibitions and enriching public programs. Though the Pickman generally focuses on Aestheticism and Decadence, nearly all artistic movements have been represented throughout the years. Exhibitions organized by the Pickman have featured the works of both local and international artists, and have encompassed all of the visual arts, including printmaking, photography, sculpture, video, film, and performance.

General Information
Pickman Gallery, 432 Sentinel Street, Arkham, MA 01914 Tel: 978/271-1300, Fax: 978/271-1313

Hours
Tuesday, Thursday, Friday: Dusk – 1am Saturday: Dusk – 3am Sunday, Monday, and major astronomical events: Closed

Limited Edition - Halloween 2018 - Pile of Leaves

Every leaf tells a story.

Limited Edition - Halloween 2018 - Pomegranate Grove

About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery.
– Pausanias

Limited Edition - Lilith 2018

Lilith, I have always loved you. I loved you before I knew you, I loved you before I saw you, I loved you before time began. I have loved you in every lifetime, and I will love you beyond the end of time. You are the spark in my soul that gives my life radiance; you are the warmth of the sun and the mysteries of the moon within my heart.

  • Absurd Origin Story

    I can’t say X-23 and I can’t say snickt and I can’t say Wolverine, so my ability to tell stupid jokes here is limited. Let’s say this is L-10’s origin story wherein she is accidentally plopped into a barrel of room temperature French fries, and emerges with superhuman mutations that grant her immortality, regeneration, and lethal deep-fried potato claws.



    When I told Lilith I was going to make her a French fries scent, she yelled EWWWWWWWW, so here’s a perfume that smells like a carbonated caramel-flavored soda (that shall remain nameless) with a hint of marshmallow.

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  • Blue Blankie

    Lilith has several blankies that mean the world to her, and this is one of them. She’s had it since she was a baby, and she still sleeps with it every night. This blankie has been all over the US, has been to innumerable conventions, and has visited Paris, London, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Salzburg, and Berlin. This blankie has been a comfort in sorrow and a companion in joy. It has been clutched in laughter and has been succor in illness. This blanket has seen thousands upon thousands of dreams.

    May it always keep you warm, safe, and happy, Lilith.

    French lavender, skin musk, and a drop of rose water.

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  • Bubbles and Unicorns

    My baby, please never stop singing whatever goddamn song you want to sing, and never stop singing it at the top of your lungs. Never stop doing silly dances, never stop making jokes. Never stop talking about unicorns, never stop howling like a werewolf, never stop making wishes on dandelions.

    Never stop playing, never stop laughing.

    Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re too old to be joyful, or that the things you love are foolish or childish. Lilith, never stop blowing bubbles.

    Dandelion sap and blackcurrant bud with opalescent, shimmering white musk.

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  • Dignified. Elegant. Sophisticated.

    We were made for each other.

    Snake Oil and bubblegum.

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  • Don’t Tell Me Heaven is Under the Earth

    Listening to music, blowing bubbles.

    A handful of honey sticks, yesterday’s patchouli, and a dusting of cinnamon sugar.

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  • Euterpe’s Ukulele

    Lilith has always loved music – especially singing – but this year, she started to get serious about it. This photo was taken this past April, while she rehearsed her slow, haunting cover of Riptide.

    A scent that smells to me the way Lilith’s voice sounds when she sings that song in her deep, thoughtful, sweet voice: wild plum, shadow oudh, osmanthus, and patchouli.

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  • Hooligan Witches

    Lilith and Mo casting spells together last winter! They solemnly swear that they’re up to no good: pumpkin cream soda, fried ice cream, and popcorn.

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  • Improv Zombie Scene

    Every New Year’s Eve for the past several years, Lilith and her soul sister Novi have rung out the old year at a kids’ dance party. This year, they spent a little time doing Zombie Improv before the party started.

    Pink grapefruit brains, honeyed cerebral fluid, and a splash of sparkling apple cider.

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  • Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free

    There are several scents this year that are inspired by Lilith’s performance in the Tempest, and this one was born from the triumphant smile on her face as she held the flowers her family brought for her.

    A cluster of peonies, carnations, roses, lilies and sweet pea cascading over a bright vanilla smile.

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  • Lilith Nightingale

    Whenever I’m sick, tired, or just run down, Lilith always tries to help out. She’s always helpful, but when someone is feeling poorly, she’s an absolute angel.

    This year, now that she’s a little bit older, she’s taken to cooking a bit here and there. Here, she’s stealing my Evil Dead shirt and making kitchari for me. I was feeling under the weather, and she wanted to take care of me. Oh my GOD, I love this kid.

    (She’s taken to wearing protective goggles that Brian gave her every time she cooks.)

    A bundle of Ayurvedic spices warmed in cream, with a little bit of dried fig and sweet dates.

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  • Meditation Buddy

    Ever since Lilith was five or so, she and I have meditated together. We do Headspace, we do breathing exercises, we just sit and share space together in silence. Sometimes we do it in the morning to start our day, sometimes we meditate at night to unwind.

    Our meditation space smells like vanilla-laced frankincense, Florida Water, sandalwood incense, salt crystals, candle wax, and white rose petals.

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  • Roof Goblins

    This cabin has roof goblins, and they’re going to steal your apples and milk.

    Honeycrisp apples and sugared milk.

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  • Scorched Marshmallows

    Lilith loves to camp, but she’s not a huge fan of roughing it. This year, we opted for some cabin glamping with some of Lilith’s best friends.

    This is the scent of Kyle and Lilith deliberately setting marshmallows on fire, with chocolate and graham crackers as an afterthought.

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  • Senator Barrial

    Senator Barrial in debate class, advocating for the mandatory conversion to electric cars by 2040.

    When she’s Senator, she’ll make sure everyone has red velvet sprinkle cupcakes with extra buttercream frosting.

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  • Spontaneous Argumentation

    This past February, Lilith competed in her first debate tournament. She was asked to come in “business casual”, and this is the best we could do.

    A scent for child orators: pleather and chalk dust with a handful of chewy fruit candies.

    (We can’t say “Skittles”, even though that’s all she ate throughout the entire tournament! Don’t sue us, Skittles! Lilith just loves Skittles!)

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  • Suffragium

    When Lilith was three months old, she came with me to the voting booth for the first time. She wore a Little Democrat onesie and a Babies For Obama button, and it was one of the most emotional nights of my life. I know I’ve told this story before, but as the election results rolled in, I wept with relief because Lilith was going to grow up safe. Decency won the day, and my heart was alight with the belief that we were on an upwards trajectory as a nation, and that compassion and hope were leading us to a renewal.

    November 8, 2016 was another emotional night for very, very different reasons.

    Since that day, the world has gotten darker, but the darkness creates strength and fosters empathy. Lilith is now learning what social justice truly means. She has participated in protests, demonstrations, volunteer campaigns, and walk-outs. She has made protest signs with her own two hands, and has marched against the cruelty, oppression, and tyranny of this current administration. She’s beginning to grasp both civic responsibility and civil disobedience, and she’s learning how much power her voice really has. 

This is a scent of renewing hope, determination, fortitude, and compassion: palo santo, white sandalwood, sweet labdanum, and cedar.

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  • The Creation of Lilith

    I took this photo of Lilith a few days ago. I told her that it looks like her and Pickle are reenacting Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, and I show her a pic. She asks what’s going on in it, so I explain the image, and she says… “Well, that’s friggin sexist. It’s stupid to say that boys were created first and to make a whole painting about it. Plus there’s no girls in the photo, and not everyone has boy or girl parts. It’s sexist, and I hate it.”

    That was a much, much stronger reaction than I expected, but good on you, kid. Burn the patriarchy down.

    And Elohim created Adam in His Image, in the Image of God He created him; male and female He created them. The first woman, created with Adam, in all her darkness and all her light: sweet black pomegranate, French lavender, oakmoss, ti leaf, bakhoor oudh incense, and black fig.

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  • The Dream is Big Enough for Everyone

    We believe that the American dream is big enough for everyone, for people of all races and religions, for men and women, for immigrants, for LGBT people and for people with disabilities. For everyone.

    Lilith at the Women’s March DTLA, 2018.

    Nasty Woman? Nah, Nasty Tween: honeyed fig and sugar-dusted patchouli, sweet amber oud, a drop of red currant, and vanilla cream.

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  • The Misty Marshmallow Sugarbunnies of Niflhel

    Of the runes of the gods
    and the giants’ race
    The truth indeed can I tell,
    (For to every world have I won;)
    To nine worlds came I,
    to Niflhel beneath,
    The home where
    pink bunny Peeps dwell.

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  • The Queen of Hel

    “I am Hel,” she said simply. “The dead come to me, and they do not return to the lands above. Why should I let Balder go?”
    – Norse Mythology, Neil Gaiman

    Lilith loves cosplaying, and while she has done many characters, none has suited her quite as well as Hela has. She debuted this look at C2E2 this year, complete with tiny plush Fenris.

    Tiny mistress of the underworld: gleaming black leather, luminescent green amber, and gargantuan hellhound musk.

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  • The She-Goat

    Wild juniper, dry grasses, California sagebrush, Monterey cypress, and California lilacs.

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  • The Storm

    On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise.



    An electric blackberry violet tossed with seaspray.

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  • Theáomai

    I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being. 

    – Oscar Wilde

    Lilith has loved the theater since we first took her to see Matilda when she was five. She loves musicals, she loves plays, she loves Shakespeare and Sondheim. She loves huge productions and local improv, she loves Hamlet and drag revues. She loves the pageantry and the intimacy, and loves performing in shows and attending shows equally.

    This is the scent of the pile of junk food that accompanies us to almost every performance: chocolate chip cookies, pretzels, caramel corn, and a little slurp of soda.

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  • True Love

    Lilith’s lavender smushed with Pickle’s coconut cream.

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  • Whole Unto Herself

    Life imposes so many restrictions on us as we climb through the years: responsibilities, challenges, hardship. Lilith, my baby, may you soar through it with exuberance and grace. Never lose your joy and your sense of self, the triumph of daily pleasures, and the freedom of your soul. May the sorrows of the world never calcify around you; may the sorrows of the world never dim your light or silence your song.

    A prayer for my daughter: frankincense, rose, and white lilies.

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Limited Edition - Genius Loci

Consult the genius of place in all.

The spirits of the land, the spirits of place. They are the protectors of nature and those who operate within their boundaries. In order to connect to these spirits, you have to examine and understand the native wildlife and flora, the weather patterns and topography, this history of the people that inhabited the land and the cosmology of the gods that smiled upon and smote its people. It is the essence of all that has lived and died there, it is the breath of the wind, the warmth of the soil, the bright burst of blood and the cool touch of thousands of years of morning dew, the echoes of a millennia of laughter, howls, screams, and scuttlings. It is the song of the land itself manifested into one energy, one soul; to propitiate it is to bring power and good fortune, but to anger or neglect spells ruin.

This is our multi-faceted series dedicated to the genii of Los Angeles, and we begin with the fluttering wings of LA’s psyche: butterflies.

Image: Los Angeles, 1906.

The Trading Post is slingin’ some Genius Loci hair glosses.

  • Anise Swallowtail

    The Anise Swallowtail is a creature of wide open spaces. She flies through wide open spaces, over hills and through lots abandoned by humankind, dancing among dill, parsley, fennel, and wild carrots.

    Bourbon vanilla, star anise, cypress, juniper berry, a drop of blood orange, and bronze fennel.

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  • Cabbage White

    A tiny creature with a wingspan less than two inches wide, she thrives on diversity but has a taste for mustard. She may be small, but she is fierce: one cabbage white butterfly can be the matriarch of generations of millions.

    Orris root, orris butter, lily of the valley, and vanilla cream.

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  • Dainty Sulphur

    Drifting low to the ground, this tiny, tough butterfly searches for nectar and mates in vacant lots and coastal flats.

    Orange blossom and brimstone.

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  • Echo Azure

    Our gilded silvery mud-puddler! His scent is of the blackberry bushes and wild lilacs in which he makes his home.

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  • El Segundo Blue

    The El Segundo Blue butterfly is endangered, and only three colonies remain: one at Los Angeles International Airport, one at an oil refinery, and one on a tiny patch of SoCal beach.

    Sand and sea salt, murky beach water, a gust of peony, and a drop of petroleum.

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  • Great Basin Woodnymph

    A child of summer, the woodnymph sips moisture from the sand and flits through grasses and wild buckwheat.

    Hay and grasses with two eyespots of cacao and tonka.

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  • Queen Butterfly

    Lady Butterfly
    perfumes her wings
    by floating over this orchid

    Russet amber and orange blossom honey, red labdanum and wild plum, golden musk and a rustle of patchouli root.

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  • Western Pygmy Blue

    A flutter of bronze and azure blue: coconut amber, patchouli and tobacco absolute with blue lotus petal, lilac, tobacco petal, dried blueberry and blackcurrant, and khus.

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Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The Emperor - Aspects of the Emperor

  • The Emperor’s Armor

    Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts.
    – John Steinbeck

    A talisman against fear: Roman chamomile, frankincense, ylang ylang, vetiver, and Italian bergamot.

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  • The Emperor’s Beard

    Fucking hipsters.
    Sweet tobacco and raw patchouli with Italian bergamot, pine needle, vintage dime store musk, and red sandalwood.

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  • The Emperor’s Crown

    A symbol of Divine Power made manifest in man, of the order of the universe being executed upon earth. It signifies the apex of glory, triumph, and immortality, and the extension of dominion: a symbol of rulership blessed by celestial providence.

    Self-control that leads to self-realization: frankincense and styrax with bergamot and lemon peel.

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  • The Emperor’s Rams

    Twin symbols of Aries, signifying courage and aggression: dragon’s blood resin, red peppercorn, red poppy, red musk, and red amber.

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  • The Emperor’s Scepter

    Formed into the crux ansata, symbolizing his absolute power over life and death: golden myrrh, calamus, iris root, and cardamom.

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  • The Emperor’s Throne

    He is seated upon the throne whose capitals are the heads of the Himalayan wild ram, since Aries means a Ram. At his feet, couchant, is the Lamb and the Flag, to confirm this attribution on the lower plane; for the ram, by nature, is a wild and courageous animal, lonely in lonely places, whereas when tamed and made to lie down in green pastures, nothing is left but the docile, cowardly, gregarious and succulent beast.
    – Aleister Crowley, Book of Thoth

    Tobacco leaf, stone-grey ambergris, cistus, benzoin, and Himalayan cedar.

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  • The Fiery Mountains

    The aspirations of man, both in the material and spiritual worlds: clove, birch tar, red ginger root, and frankincense.

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  • The Orb

    The world over which he rules: bitter almond and gold oudh.

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  • The Red Robes

    Absolute power in the temporal world: red musk and leather streaked with tomato leaf and tobacco.

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  • The Stream

    The intuitiveness, compassion, sensuality, and creativity that nourishes and sustains Order: lavender buds and gentle bells of Lily of the Valley floating on a calm river of lychee, ylang ylang, and white magnolia.

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Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The Emperor - Faces of the Emperor

  • Pater Populi

    The foundation of a stable and just society, the keeper of tradition, the enforcer of laws:  bay leaf and olive blossom with ambrette seed, white oakmoss, petitgrain, lavender, cedar, and leather.

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  • The Eternal King

    The Old King is sacrificed, dismembered, and returned to the earth so the land may be renewed and nourished.

    The death knell of the Old Order so life may begin anew: juniper and yew berry, black pine, white sage, soil, and pyre smoke.

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  • The Horned God

    Lord of the cycle of death and resurrection, he is the personification of the rhythms of order found deep in the cycles of nature. He is the embodiment of virility and male fecundity and shepherd of souls to the afterlife.

    Ash and white cedar, frankincense and acacia, holly and oak, verbena and nettle.

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  • The Huntsman

    Leading a host of spectral hounds, he scours the earth in search of errant souls: black pine and vetiver, leather and clove.

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  • The Imperator

    Commanding his legions to secure the safety of his people and promote the expansion of his lands: steel and gold wreathed by a crown of bay and iris.

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Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The High Priestess - Aspects of the High Priestess

The first of the four Temporal Rulers of the Major Arcana, who move and act within our world and our reality. Her hands, along with the Hierophant’s, the Empress’s, and the Emperor’s, turn the wheel of time. The Star Maiden, She Who Shines in the Darkness, High Priestess of Veiled Golden Isis, the Eternal Virgin. She is the Unutterable Truth, the Portal to the Mystery, the catalyst of the alchemical process of dissolution. This is Shekhinah, the presence and dwelling place of the feminine aspect of the Divine, the feminine manifestation of the presence of God, residing in the Temple in Jerusalem, the Tabernacle, and wherever [AB1] people are gathered together in prayer. She is the transformational spirit of God and the birthplace of prophecy. She is the Sabbath Bride, she is Sister Manfreda, she is Pope Joan, she is Veiled Isis, she is the Virgin Huntress, she is the female incarnation of Metatron.

Originally, the High Priestess was the Papesse, who was perceived as an allegory for the power of the Church, a heretical scapegoat, an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, or the herald of a new age. Later, she transformed into the virgin priestess, eternally pure, forever guarding the doorway to the mysteries.

Standing beside the Magician, together they represent binary principles of the universe: light and dark, action and stillness, exoteric and esoteric, knowledge and intuition. Where the Magician moves externally, controlling the forces of nature, the High Priestess turns inward, granting understanding of the mysteries of creation and the miracle of existence itself. She is the Moon, and the Hierophant is the Sun. She is the conduit between the archetypical and formative worlds, and she is the only guide capable of traversing the terrible wasteland that is the bleak desert of the soul[AB2] . She is intuition and the inner voice, opening your eyes to the potency and power of your dreams, your subconscious, and your imagination, granting insight into the myriad realities beyond the scope of your current understanding.

Is finding answers more important than finding peace? What price are you willing to pay for a chance to look behind the veil?

  • Pomegranates and Date Palms

    The Mysteries of Persephone’s divine descent entwined with the Mysteries of the Temple of Solomon, forming a map of the Tree of Life.

    He made chains in the inner sanctuary and placed them on the tops of the pillars; and he made one hundred pomegranates and placed them on the chains.

     

    Pomegranate, dates, and cypress infused with ketoret smoke veiled in violet, purple, and crimson.

    Out of Stock
  • The Crescent Moon

    The mystery of divine virginity, insemination, and the cradle of all birth. Fertility, wise counsel, and the gift of true wisdom.

     

    Gleaming amber and copal with white sage and sheer juniper.

    Out of Stock
  • The Cross

    The integration of spirit with the material world: frankincense, styrax, oakmoss, patchouli, and birch tar.

    Out of Stock
  • The Crown

    The three phases of the moon fashioned into a lunar triregnum: blue chamomile, mugwort, and orris root.

    Out of Stock
  • The Pillars

    The pillars at the entrance to Solomon’s temple. And he reared up the pillars before the temple, one on the right hand, and the other on the left; and called the name of that on the right hand Jachin, and the name of that on the left Boaz.

     

    “These two pillars, therefore, stand for the two great spiritual principles that are the basis of all Life: Jachin typifying the Unity resulting from Being, and Boaz typifying the Unity resulting from Love. In this Dual-Unity we find the key to all conceivable involution or evolution of Spirit; and it is therefore not without reason that the record of these two ancient pillars has been preserved in our Scriptures. And finally we may take this as an index to the character of our Scriptures generally. They contain infinite meanings; and often those passages which appear on the surface to be most meaningless will be found to possess the deepest significance. The Book, which we often read so superficially, hides beneath its sometimes seemingly trivial words the secrets of other things. The twin pillars Jachin and Boaz bear witness to this truth.”

    – The Hidden Power by Thomas Troward, 1921

     

    White cedar, cypress wood, sweet myrrh, honey myrtle, white sandalwood, spikenard, and frankincense.

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  • The Scroll

    Her scroll is sealed, her book is closed, and she is silent: the wisdom that she grants is that which cannot be put into words, that which cannot be recorded but must be experienced.

     

    Honeyed myrrh with a drop of Ceylon cinnamon.

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Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The High Priestess - Faces of the High Priestess

  • La Papesse

    A visionary heretic, martyred to usher in a new Aeon: rose oudh, blackened myrrh, and cathedral incense.

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  • The Eternal Virgin

    The keeper of the secrets that are hidden [AB3] at the moment that life begins. Her light is the veil that cloaks the spirit; she is the mediator between the supplicant and the word of the gods.

     

    White carnation, cardamom pod, and honey milk.

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  • The Initiatrix

    Guiding the aspirant to spiritual knowledge and attainment through silence, reflection, intuition, and direct experience.

     

    Red benzoin and rose.

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  • The Moon Goddess

    Virgin, huntress, witch, holding the mysteries and powers of womanhood between her palms: vetiver, white pine,  hay, Sicilian lemon, leather, and agarwood.

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  • The Night Priestess

    Who leads the star-dazed hero in a moon-blessed quest for his mythical lover: night-blooming jasmine, clove bud, cardamom, moonlit vanilla orchid, and moonflower.

    Out of Stock

Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The Empress - Aspects of the Empress

  • The Forest of the Empress

    A verdant grove of evergreens, the promise of peace, quiet, and refuge within the heart of Nature’s embrace: clusters of clubmoss huddle silently under a gently shadowed canopy of silver fir, blue spruce, red cedar, cypress, and live oak.

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  • The Harvest of the Empress

    Fancy with prophetic glance
    Sees the teeming months advance;
    The field, the forest, green and gay;
    The dappled slope, the tedded hay;
    Sees the reddening orchard blow,
    The Harvest wave, the vintage flow.

    Wheat stalks, hay absolute, and clove.

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  • The Robe of Pomegranates

    The Queen who creates and cultivates all that sustains us on this plane: ripe red pomegranate and bakhoor oudh, honeyed incense, fig and ambrette seed, sandalwood and carnation.

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  • The Scepter of the Empress

    One half of the Tarot’s binary expression of archetypical sovereignty, governing comfort and succor, the healing power of the natural world, the fecundity of the countryside, the stability of earth supported by the passionate tides of water, and all that gently nurtures humankind. This is the safety of home and kingdom alike, the promise of enough resources to sustain you and your community, the assurance the fruitfulness of the harvest, benevolent protection, and the wellbeing of generations to come.

    Amber oudh, mandarin rind, and Florentine bergamot.

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  • The Shield

    In some interpretations, her shield bears the eagle of dominion, in others, it is emblazoned with the symbol of the planet Venus. The sovereignty of love, the protection and succor of a benevolent mother-queen: white patchouli and helichrysum with blackcurrant, white sage, praline, vetiver, and orris root.

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  • The Squishy Cushions

    The glory of Venus as the apex of luxury and sensuality: velvet red rose petal attar, sweet red oudh, Mysore sandalwood, red benzoin, elemi, silken musk, and jasmine sambac.

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  • The Starry Crown

    Twelve petals in the heart chakra, twelve cranial nerves in the human body. Twelve lunar months, twelve lunations in a solar year, twelve signs of the Zodiac, twelve Earthly Branches. Twelve Tribes of Israel, twelve Apostles, Jacob and Ishmael each had twelve sons. Twelve days of Christmas, the sacred time between Christmas and Epiphany. Odin had twelve sons. There are twelve jurors in Athena’s celestial court. The stars in her crown are hexagrams, proclaiming her dominion over the material world.

    A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head: red musk and tolu, centifolia rose and black tobacco, French lavender and star anise, Roman chamomile and leather.

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  • The Stream and the Waterfall

    The flow of inspiration and passion, intuition put into action. The stream flows from the heart of the Empress’ Forest into the verdant fields at her feet. Sakura blossoms, neroli, and peach blossom cascading into a pool of white frankincense and hiba cedarwood.

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Limited Edition - The Fool’s Journey - The Empress - Faces of the Empress

  • The Earth Mother

    The personification of nature itself: patchouli and clary sage with a host of dark mosses and lichens, wild grasses, warm acorns, dammar, burgundy pitch, pine needles, mandrake root, hay absolute, and sweet vetiver.

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  • The Eternal Queen

    A whisper of names: Nandi, Dido, Clytemnestra, Hatshepsut, Merneith, Olga of Kiev, Boudicca, Urraca the Reckless, Makeda, Sasaban, Semiramis, Rabodoandrianampoinimerina, Theodora, Julia Agrippina, Wu Zeitan, Irene Sarantapechaina, Elizabeth. She is every queen that has ever walked on this Earth, and every queen that shall come. She rules the past, the present, and the future; she is the archetypical sovereign, the amalgamation of feminine power – dark and light – throughout all of mankind’s history.

    White gardenia and tuberose with ambergris accord, vegetal vanilla musk, bourbon vanilla, and amber incense.

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  • The Queen of Earthly Paradise

    The Fruitful Mother of Thousands that rules over the House of Man: golden bulbs bursting through the ground at the first light of Spring: sun-bright golden petals of daffodil, gladiolus, tulips, crocus, aconite and jonquil gilded with amber.

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  • The Queen of Love

    O Venus, beauty of the skies,
    To whom a thousand temples rise,
    Gaily false in gentle smiles,
    Full of love-perplexing wiles;
    O goddess, from my heart remove
    The wasting cares and pains of love.

    Red rose petals, benzoin, honey myrtle and ambrette seed.

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Limited Edition - 7 Word Story

  • Seven Word Story: Envy

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Envy. The winning entry was submitted by Tyler Butler:

    Galatea wept as Pygmalion carved new statues

    Marble-white sandalwood, vanilla blossom, and orris root veined with whorls of ambergris accord, rose-touched with life, slowly shattering tears of bitter carrot seed and cistus.

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  • Seven Word Story: Gluttony

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Gluttony. The winning entry was submitted by Crystal Rose-Thompson:

    The Sirens Eagerly Beckoned the Approaching Ship

    Sea splash on murky labdanum and gleaming olibanum, veiled in lavender, diaphanous osmanthus, gilded saffron, and honey incense.

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  • Seven Word Story: Greed

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Greed. The winning entry was submitted by Melanie C:

    Killed the last rhino for its horn.

    Ambergris accord, orris root, and carrot seed.

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  • Seven Word Story: Lust

    Quoth one of the wordiest humans who ever lived: “Brevity is the soul of wit.” 

    This spring we challenged friends and fans to answer that call, baring their souls (and more) in our steamy, Lust-themed #BPAL7wordstory contest.

    “Seduce us in seven!” we demanded, promising the winning story would be enshrined in a Limited Edition fragrance. The response was overwhelming — and downright filthy. Over eight hundred entries later, Lust found its new champion. The winning story, submitted via Twitter by @GeekDame, took flight in our perfumer’s imagination and resulted in the following myth-tinged tryst. 

    Congrats to the winner, and keep your quills sharp! #BPAL7wordstory is only getting started. 

    He breathed smoke across her pomegranate-stained lips.

     Chthonic incense and blood-red pomegranate.

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  • Seven Word Story: Pride

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was Pride. The winning entry was submitted by Cam Collins:

    The alligator selfie was a bad idea.

    A swampy blend of Spanish moss, green tea, green oakmoss, celery seed, cucumber, and murky black patchouli.

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  • Seven Word Story: Sloth

    As Baudelaire once wrote, “We revel in the laxness of the path we take.” As such, we weren’t convinced anyone would bother entering the Sloth edition of our #BPAL7wordstory contest.

    Somehow, hundreds of you summoned the strength to string seven words together — plus the dozens who cheekily declined to muster more than six. The winning entry by Amy DeNies epitomizes that (lack of) effort with aplomb.

    Congrats to our winner, and keep those heavy eyelids propped open — #BPAL7wordstory could strike again at any time.

    can’t commit to finishing a whole banana

    The effort is too much: banana weighed down by blackened cacao, bourbon vetiver, and tobacco absolute.

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  • Seven Word Story: Wrath

    The subject of our latest #BPAL7wordstory contest was WRATH. The winning entry was submitted by Miss Paulette:

    The poison worked slowly, to her delight.

    Bitter almond swirled into black patchouli, with red amber, rum absolute, and lemon peel.

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Limited Edition - A Little Lunacy

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a Joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Every month we offer a unique, limited edition lunacy scent, corresponding to the following month’s moon. It is available on the website for 72 hours, and then available once again at the following month’s Lunacy Event.

  • Moons of Saturn: Dione

    Oracle and healer, the Titaness Dione was once one of Zeus’ consorts. Her scent is dove black labdanum shining with opalescent lavender and poplar bud.

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Limited Edition - Aros Morbus: Mors Nigra

O happy posterity, who will not experience such abysmal woe and will look upon our testimony as a fable.

On the 20th of Mach, 1345, it is believed that a triple conjunction of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars in Aquarius harbingered one of the most catastrophic pandemics in all of human history, resulting in the deaths of between 75 and 200 million people in Eurasia, and initiating a death culture that would last well into our time.

Austin Coppock – one of the most talented, eloquent astrologers of our age – shares his insight:

It is a contemporary conceit to believe that plague is no longer with us. The post WWII years saw the humans triumph over a host of age-old afflictions. Polio, whooping cough tuberculosis and more fell one-by-one to the scalpel of modern science. Yet these gains, taken for granted, grow smaller every year. Long slumbering diseases have been roused, and those which were scheduled for elimination have shown dogged resistance to humanity’s best efforts. Plague is thus not a thing of the past, but an everpresent horseman, keeping pace with human progress. Though we may have pulled into a small lead, we have by no means outrun this dark rider.

12421778_10154071916988293_41845864_nThose who came before us knew well that this rider was forever at their back, and thus lived in anticipation of his terrible arrival. It should thus be in no way shocking to find that astrologers throughout history have done their very best to predict the times at which the waves of pestilence would crash against our shore. In a report commissioned by King Phillip VI from the University of Paris’ Medical Faculty in 1348, the fault of the great plague was thought to lie in a rare conjunction of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars in Aquarius which had occurred some years earlier, in 1345. The report pointed to the malefic nature of the Great Conjunction which had occurred those few years earlier, and how it augured a disease both swift and terrible. But Medical Faculty of the University of Paris had the benefit of hindsight, and their retrospective spared no one.

Several hundred years later, in 17th century England, lived an astrologer somewhat more prescient. William Lilly, the “English Merlin” wrote in his 1665 Almanac “Here is approaching great fatality unto mankind…there may be feared some dangerous mortality, or plague to be at hand, inflicting destruction.” Furthermore, he wrote of “a sickly summer…during June, July or August..” Accompanied by the macabre illustration seen below, Mr. Lilly’s prediction was more than satisfied, for a plague swept the city of London at the appointed time, claiming one in six of its inhabitants.

Though rarely regarded with much reverence, the configuration of the heavens still proclaims the coming of afflictions terrible and cruel. When in August of 2014, Mars the Lesser Malefic and Saturn the Greater Malefic made their conjunction in the tropical sign of the Scorpio, a plague of sanguine horror spread about the lands of western Africa— Ebola.

Yet the planets did not speak of these terrible genesis, but instead their climax. Perhaps it is not the dire conjunctions which bring about such sicknesses, but instead merely direct our awareness to them. The sinister red light of Mars and the dull grave dirt glow of Saturn may indeed only seem evil to us in that they serve to illuminate the work of the horseman forever at our side.

One must wonder, then, what the heavens of this year are trying to communicate, for Mars and Saturn spend an unusual amount of together in 2016. They flirt for all of April, and then separate, only to be joined bodily over the Summer. They will do so against the red backdrop of Antares- the Heart of the Scorpio. Three eyed, like the oni of Japanese folkore, one can only wonder what this trio of eyes sees in our spring and summer months.

The Plagues will be expanded with a study of the art and cultural impact of the Black Death this spring.

  • Conjunction of Mars and Saturn

    Daemonorops, star thistle, wild tobacco, and asafoetida intensified by hemlock accord, black musk seed, mortuary cypress, and black gum leaf.

    [Label illustration: Adolf Vogel]

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  • In Time of Plague

    Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!
    This world uncertain is:
    Fond are life’s lustful joys,
    Death proves them all but toys.
    None from his darts can fly;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Rich men, trust not in wealth,
    Gold cannot buy you health;
    Physic himself must fade;
    All things to end are made;
    The plague full swift goes by;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Beauty is but a flower
    Which wrinkles will devour;
    Brightness falls from the air;
    Queens have died young and fair;
    Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Strength stoops unto the grave,
    Worms feed on Hector brave;
    Swords may not fight with fate;
    Earth still holds ope her gate;
    Come, come! the bells do cry;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Wit with his wantonness
    Tasteth death’s bitterness;
    Hell’s executioner
    Hath no ears for to hear
    What vain art can reply:
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!

    Haste therefore each degree
    To welcome destiny;
    Heaven is our heritage,
    Earth but a player’s stage.
    Mount we unto the sky;
    I am sick, I must die—
    Lord, have mercy on us!
    – Thomas Nashe

    Blackened roses against a backdrop of velvet opoponax, bitter clove, and tobacco abosolute.

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