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In his press release Romain Noel describes the non-human-ness of the portraits Chloe Sai Breil-Dupont and goes into depth into the ttitle of the whole exhibition and what it means for the works. 'Our tongues have the taste of powder', tongues could be another word for their story that they tell to others, their narratives. It's incredibly intriguing, like a way of saying their stories are now held in suspension of the pigment of the painting materials (calcited powder).
I like the way she has matched every treacherous setting to the figure and created a rapture for each that still feels congruent to the rest of the series through brush strokes and texture  and the colour choices.
The locations that each figure make me asks questions as to their purpose and what they mean to each individual. They could be books, or CDs or paintings or even memories but whatever they are that they're trying to share with the audience will never be able to be understood which I find incredibly interesting (it's quite depressing and apocalyptic)

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Our Tongues Have the Taste of Powder
By Romain Noël
Translation from French by Reiss Joshua Madden

When I look upon the new paintings of Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont, I am seized by a shiver which, if I am to believe the title of the exhibition, is perhaps above all a kind of powdering. It's one of my favorite verbs: to powder. For me it has always been synonymous with dissolution and disappearance, love and destruction. It is a term that I have always taken in a very sensual, almost erotic way. When things begin to powder, they open up, intertwine, and break through to the world in streams of particles. Powdering is an amorous emulsion, which transforms everything in its path.

It is often remarked, and rightly so, that Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont works in the tradition of the great masters of the Renaissance, and that her portraits employ the formal vocabulary of these masters. However, from another perspective, such remarks mislead us as to the deeper meaning of her pictorial practice. And for good reason, it is not a question of the artist continuing the tradition of humanist portraiture, but rather to create the possibility of representing creatures belonging a priori to the human species in a resolutely anti-humanist manner. Where humanist portraiture sought to represent its subjects by insisting on the enlightened character of their power, Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont's portraits seek, on the contrary, to represent the strictly non-human dimension of those she paints. For the human as instituted by humanism is less a biological fact than a title, in the honorific sense of the term: a dignity, as Pico della Mirandola wrote in his famous treatise. The archetypal humanist subject was (and in some ways still is) a powerful white man, the exceptions only proving the rule. Some centuries later, Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont offers us an alternative. By this I mean: a crack in the paradigm, a line of flight, a breath of fresh air, the promise of a darker and freer life. This is how I believe we should understand her use of non-conforming colours in the treatment of her models' complexions. Indeed, in her painting, the artist seems to seek to invent another way of being human, where the dominant dignity is finally erased in favour of a truly living life where blues, mauves, pinks and violets manage to nourish the possibility of a common existence.

From my point of view, the powdering evoked in the title of the exhibition must be understood as a real promise of powerlessness. That said, I can't help but feel that, behind the title of the exhibition, a more rebellious formulation is emerging: "Our tongues hate the state of power". Our tongues, that is to say our stories, our narratives, our lived lives and our legendary existences hate the stasis of power. They prefer powdery ecstasy. This is why Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont relies on storms and volcanoes as she relies on loved ones. She knows that only the friendship of tornadoes and fire will one day allow her to pass to the other side, where tongues touch in the dark and work for the triumph of love, as shown by the arrows incapable of reaching the lovers depicted in one of the paintings in the exhibition.

I insist: artists must be taken seriously. Poets must be taken seriously. Painters must be taken seriously. All those who seek to formulate, in their practice, the possibility of another world must be taken seriously. For these formulas, as magical as they are, do well and truly work. But it is still necessary to make oneself available to them. It is not enough, to follow Chloë Saï and her friends to the lands where the black paste proliferates, to contemplate her paintings with an aesthetic eye. Rather, one must accept to enter oneself, with all one's heart, in the state of powerlessness that unfolds there. One must accept, even desire, the fact that black paste is not just black paste, but a state-of-the-art technology, conceived with great difficulty to accomplish things that, believe me, are worth doing.

Ultimately, the question is not about painting as an expression of high culture, but rather about the actual medium of the practice of applying coloured pigments to a flat surface. I close my eyes and let the paintings flow through me. That is to say: I let the pictorial matter pass through me, I let the images pass through me, I let the creatures behind the images pass through me. It forms a vortex around me. Like a tornado which, it is true, could carry me away. It's a risk worth taking and I take it because Chloë Saï in some way teaches us: painting, like truly living life, is risky. I am reminded of 'The Wizard of Oz', where it is precisely a tornado that carries Dorothy away from her native Kansas to the strange land of Oz where she will live her adventure.

For all these reasons, it seems to me that the work of Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont, as it appears in this exhibition, touches on something like the truth of the apocalypse. Indeed, the time of the apocalypse is neither the time of regression nor the time of progression; neither the time of decline nor the time of social or scientific progress. The time of the apocalypse is the time of ecstasy (in the elementary sense of leaving the self), the time of transmutation. When the apocalypse strikes me, it creates a portal within me. If I manage to locate this portal precisely and pass through it, then things change and life is radically transformed. It's a story of destiny. A fiction to be written. A desire to be implemented. All the paintings here could then function as a kind of apocalyptic threshold, articulating before our eyes the human and the non-human, the known and the unknown. The friends portrayed, who have become gatekeepers of another world, wait like sphinxes for us to answer the riddles that emanate from their colourful bodies. It is up to us to cross over to the other side, because in reality everyone knows the answer to the riddle, as proven by the way our bodies melt when it is spoken. In the end, we are once again like Dorothy: fear grips us and we seek help to return home. Yet the open portals remain open forever, and forever our lives will remain transformed.

Our Tongues Have the Taste of Powder
By Romain Noël

Quand je me penche sur les nouvelles toiles de Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont, je suis pris d'un frémissement qui, si j'en crois le titre de l'exposition, est peut-être avant tout une sorte de poudroiement. C'est un de mes verbes préférés : poudroyer. Pour moi il a toujours été synonyme de dissolution et de disparition, d'amour et de destruction. C'est un terme que j'ai toujours reçu de manière très sensuelle, quasiment érotique. Lorsque les choses se mettent à poudroyer, elles s'entrouvrent, s'entretouchent, et déferlent sur les mondes en flots de particules. Le poudroiement est une émulsion amoureuse, qui transforme tout sur son passage.

On fait souvent remarquer, à juste titre, que Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont travaille dans la lignée des grands maîtres de la Renaissance, et que ses portraits reprennent le vocabulaire formel de ces maîtres. Pourtant, d'un autre point de vue, ces remarques nous égare quant au sens profond de sa pratique picturale. Et pour cause, il ne s'agit pas pour l'artiste de poursuivre la tradition du portrait humaniste, mais au contraire d'inventer la possibilité de représenter des créatures appartenant a priori à l'espèce humaine d'une manière résolument anti-humaniste. Là où le portait humaniste cherchait à représenter ses sujets en insistant sur le caractère éclairé de leur pouvoir, les portraits de Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont cherchent au contraire à représenter la dimension proprement non-humaine de celleux qu'elle peint. Car l'humain tel que l'humanisme l'a institué est moins une donnée biologique qu'un titre, au sens honorifique du terme : une dignité, comme l'écrivait Pic de la Mirandole dans son célèbre traité. L'archétype du sujet humaniste était (et d'une certaine manière est toujours) un homme blanc puissant, les exceptions ne faisant que confirmer la règle. Quelques siècles plus tard, Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont nous propose une alternative. Je veux dire : une fissure dans le paradigme, une ligne de fuite, un appel d'air, la promesse d'une vie plus obscure et plus libre. C'est ainsi je crois qu'il faut comprendre son recours, dans le traitement des carnations de ses modèles, à des couleurs non-conformes. L'artiste semble en effet, dans sa peinture, chercher à inventer une autre manière d'être humain, où finalement la dignité dominante s'efface au profit d'une vie vraiment vivante où les bleus, les mauves, les roses et les violets parviennent à nourrir la possibilité d'une existence commune.

De mon point de vue, le poudroiement évoqué dans le titre de l'exposition doit être compris comme une véritable promesse d'impouvoir. Disant cela, je ne peux pas m'empêcher de sentir poindre, derrière le titre de l'exposition, une formulation plus révoltée : " our tongues hate the state of power ". Nos langues, c'est-à-dire nos histoires, nos narrations, nos vies vécues et nos existences légendaires détestent la stase propre au pouvoir. Elles lui préfèrent l'extase poudroyante. C'est pourquoi Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont s'en remet aux tempêtes et aux volcans comme elle s'en remet aux êtres qui lui sont chers. Elle sait que seule l'amitié des tornades et du feu lui permettront un jour de passer de l'autre côté, là où les langues se touchent dans le noir et travaillent au triomphe de l'amour, comme le prouvent les flèches incapables d'atteindre le couple d'amoureux représenté sur l'une des peintures de l'exposition.

J'insiste sur ceci : il faut prendre au sérieux les artistes. Prendre au sérieux les poètes. Prendre au sérieux les peintres. Prendre aux sérieux celleux qui cherchent à formuler, dans leur pratique, la possibilité d'un autre monde. Car ces formules, pour magiques qu'elles soient, fonctionnent bel et bien. Mais encore faut-il s'y rendre disponibles. Il ne suffit pas, pour suivre Chloë Saï et ses amix vers les contrées où la pâte noire prolifère, de contempler ses peintures avec un œil esthète. Il faut bien plutôt accepter d'entrer soi-même, de tout son cœur, dans l'état d'impouvoir qui s'y déploie. Il faut accepter et plus encore désirer le fait que la pâte noire n'est pas seulement de la pâte noire, mais une technologie de pointe, conçue de haute lutte pour accomplir des choses qui, croyez-moi, valent la peine de l'être.

La question n'est finalement pas celle de la peinture prise comme expression de la haute culture, mais de la porté proprement médiumnique de la pratique consistant à appliquer des pigments colorés sur une surface plane. Je ferme les yeux et je laisse les peintures me traverser. C'est-à-dire : je laisse la matière picturale me traverser, je laisse les images me traverser, je laisse les créatures derrière les images me traverser. Cela forme comme un tourbillon autour de moi. Comme une tornade qui, c'est vrai, pourrait m'emporter. C'est un risque à prendre et je le prends car Chloë Saï d'une certaine manière nous l'enseigne : la peinture, comme la vie vraiment vivante, est risquée. Me viennent alors des réminiscences du " Magicien d'Oz ", où c'est précisément une tornade qui emporte Dorothée loin de son Kansas natal, dans l'étrange pays d'Oz où elle vivra son aventure.

Pour toutes ces raisons, il me semble que le travail de Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont, tel qu'il apparaît au sein de cette exposition, touche du doigt quelque chose comme la vérité de l'apocalypse. En effet, le temps de l'apocalypse n'est ni le temps de la régression, ni celui de la progression; ni le temps du déclin, ni celui du progrès social ou scientifique. Le temps de l'apocalypse est le temps de l'extase (au sens élémentaire de sortie de soi), le temps de la transmutation. Quand l'apocalypse me frappe, elle fait naître un portail en moi. Si je parviens à localiser précisément ce portail et à passer à travers, alors les choses changent et la vie se trouve radicalement transformée. C'est une histoire de destin. Une fiction à écrire. Un désir à mettre en œuvre. Toutes les peintures ici en présence pourraient alors fonctionner comme une sorte de seuil apocalyptique, articulant sous nos yeux l'humain et le non-humain, le connu et le non-connu. Les ami·e·s portraituré·e·s, devenu·e·s gardien·ne·s (gatekeepers) d'un autre monde, attendent en sorte de sphinx que nous répondions aux énigmes qui émanent de leurs corps colorés. Il ne tient qu'à nous de passer de l'autre côté, car en réalité tout le monde connaît la réponse à l'énigme, comme le prouve la manière dont nos corps fondent lorsqu'elle est prononcée. A la fin, nous ressemblons une fois de plus à Dorothée : la peur nous saisit et nous cherchons de l'aide pour rentrer chez nous. Pourtant, les portails ouverts le demeurent pour toujours, et pour toujours nos vies demeureront transformées.

Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont (b. 1990, Paris) studied painting at the Beaux-Arts of Biarritz, graduating in 2015. Shortly after she moved to São Paolo, Brazil, where she studied Philosophy at PUC University São Paolo. Breil-Dupont went on to complete three residencies at les Ateliers Wonder, Dune Pondicherry, and la Villa Belleville. Toward the end of 2017, she created and self published "Le Livre O" with Vincent Chéry, a graphic novel that evokes parallel universes and worlds that exist on top of each other. The text was distributed by le Centre Pompidou and le Palais de Tokyo, amongst other institutions. From 2018 to 2020, Breil-Dupont lived in Carrara, Italy where she focused deeply on her oil painting practice. She has regularly exhibited her work in Paris, and several cities in France, São Paulo, Brussels, Antwerp, Miami and Carrara.

Our Tongues Have the Taste of Powder, her second solo exhibition with Nicodim opens February 18.

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Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont: Our Tongues Have the Taste of Powder

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Our Tongues Have the Taste of Powder By Romain Noël Translation from French by Reiss Joshua Madden When I look upon the new paintings of Chloë Saï Breil-Dupont, I am seized by a shiver which, if I am to believe the title of the exhibition, is perhaps above all a kind of powdering.

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A knight returning to Sweden after the Crusades seeks answers about life, death, and the existence of God as he plays chess against the Grim Reaper during the Black Plague.
I find the depiction of death really intriguing, as he's very normal looking. Clearly odd but not the normal skeletal grim reaper just pale and bald. He has a playfulness to him as well as a deviousness that makes him very captivating to watch.
The film poses interesting questions about whether we even should try to beat death or whether it's better to embrace the inevitable part he plays in humanity.
A fear of death as something that separates us as conscious beings from higher powers who don't care.

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The Seventh Seal: Directed by Ingmar Bergman. With Gunnar Björnstrand, Bengt Ekerot, Nils Poppe, Max von Sydow. A knight returning to Sweden after the Crusades seeks answers about life, death, and the existence of God as he plays chess against the Grim Reaper during the Black Plague.

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Hayden Silas Anhedönia created the persona of Ethel Cain and in her consept album Preacher's daughter it tells her horrific story of running away from home, falling in love with a psychopath, getting pimped out, getting murdered and then eaten.
This song is the musical interpretation of the moment of Ethel's demise framed as an intimate confession to the man she knows is going to murder her.
The next song 'August Underground' is her interpretation of going down to hell and consist of low ghostly moan and heavy bass guitar then the song 'Televangelism' interprets her coming back to earth as ghost to continue narrating her story and watch her 'mama' whilst being completely unable to do anything about it

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I'm most interested by her collection of work post 2021 and onwards
She has beautiful imagery and uses colour in a way that feels dreamy and nostalgic

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'In Aztec (also called Mexica) cosmology, the soul’s journey to the Underworld after death leaves them with four destinations: the Sacred Orchard of the Gods, the Place of Darkness, the Kingdom of the Sun, and a paradise called the Mansion of the Moon. The most common deaths end up on their way to Mictlán (Place of Darkness) with its nine levels, crashing mountains and rushing rivers, and four years of struggle. This pantheon of gods and goddesses and the expanse of the 13 Heavens provides the cultural basis for the Day of the Dead customs and celebrations.'
I'm most interested in Aztec mythology because their concept of the afterlife was not an eternal paradise like most other religions, it's literally a second mortal life that the souls have to make it to before they can finally die eternally- even in the Kingdom of the Sun (the closest concept to a heaven) they only had 4 years spent their before they turned into birds.

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Mythological Journey to the Aztec Underworld - WilderUtopia

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A soul’s journey to the Aztec Underworld after death has 4 destinations. Most end up in Mictlán with nine levels and four years of struggle.

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Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth | Ep. 3: 'The First Storytellers'

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This song means many things to me, it expresses the depression faced after a breakup and the fear of change brought around by constantly moving in effort to run away from heartbreak, your hometown, that only leads to more crescendo-ing pain. She can't stand living and dying in her hometown so takes off in her car across a landscape of americana. The most emotionally signifcant part of the song is the ending where she and a whole choir break into gutteral screams and instruments start screeching in the background. It gives such a cathartic release of energy and pent up, confused emotion.

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This installment of 'Dark Continent' focuses on the spectral figure of an eternal vampire at the bottom of the ocean, forever caught on the threshold between life and death delivered through a monologue.
It's dark and ominous and erotic and captivating. Shani uses very sensory language and only frames the Vampyre in one shot as the Vampyre tells their story which emphasises the changes in the vampyre's mouth and eyes throughout the film as they go through the process of discovery, desire, rage and guilt.
I like the darkness that the vampyre is kept in, it gives a suffocating quality to the large expanse of space that the ocean takes up.
I like the stock footage feeling of the waves that breakup the monologue as I think it adds to the surreal quality of the story and makes you hold your suspension of disbelief.

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Andromedan Sad Girl is the first major collaborative exhibition by artists Florence Peake and Tai Shani. Drawing on their research into structures of feminism, their immersive installation is an imagining of what apre or post patriarchal site could be. Peake and Shani are interested in exploring the fluid mythologies andimagined futures of lost civilizations. The artists take an archaeological excavation as a point of departure to imagine and represent non-hierarchal, pre-historical or futuristic civilizations, imagined through ambitious new sculptural works and wall paintings

The installation, which has transformed Wysing’s gallery, privileges sensation. Entering the space, the visitor
crosses a voluminous threshold towards an altar, flanked enigmatically by long hybrid arms, both human
and animal. Sculptures are flocked to create soft and sensuous objects, and walls have been painted with
a vivid and gestural application of coloured plaster and ceramics. Using multilayered elements, including
sound, the whole installation takes the visitor to a highly theatrical space and invites them to rest inside
this immersive environment. The sound, with vocals from Florence Peake and produced in collaboration
with recent artist residency and composer Maxwell Sterling, suggests a pre-linguistic dimension where
speech is not yet acquired, but open.

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ANDROMEDAN SAD GIRL

Andromedan Sad Girl is the first major collaborative exhibition by artists Florence Peake and Tai Shani.
Drawing on their research into structures of feminism, their immersive installation is an imagining of what a
pre or post patriarchal site could be. Peake and Shani are interested in exploring the fluid mythologies and
imagined futures of lost civilizations. The artists take an archaeological excavation as a point of departure to
imagine and represent non-hierarchal, pre-historical or futuristic civilizations, imagined through ambitious
new sculptural works and wall paintings.

The installation marks a conceptual collaboration between the two artists, with Tai Shani's sculptures
surrounded by Florence Peake's paintings. Drawing on her performance practice, Peake has collaborated
with dancer Eve Stainton to generate the new fresco paintings. By drawing around each other's bodies on
the horizontal surface, before painting on the panels vertically, the work suggests a plurality of abstract
embodiment and vibrating temporality. Tai Shani's work occupies the central gallery space and frames the
gallery entrance with vibrant symbolic sculptures; technicolour, psychedelic interpretations of mystical
objects and ritualistic architecture.

The installation, which has transformed Wysing's gallery, privileges sensation. Entering the space, the visitor
crosses a voluminous threshold towards an altar, flanked enigmatically by long hybrid arms, both human
and animal. Sculptures are flocked to create soft and sensuous objects, and walls have been painted with
a vivid and gestural application of coloured plaster and ceramics. Using multilayered elements, including
sound, the whole installation takes the visitor to a highly theatrical space and invites them to rest inside
this immersive environment. The sound, with vocals from Florence Peake and produced in collaboration
with recent artist residency and composer Maxwell Sterling, suggests a pre-linguistic dimension where
speech is not yet acquired, but open.

Florence Peake was an artist in residence at Wysing in 2016 and Tai Shani was in residence at Wysing in the
summer of 2017. Andromedan Sad Girl is situated in Wysing's wider artistic programme for 2017, Wysing
Polyphonic.

Pictures: Wilf Speller

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Andromedan Sad Girl is the first major collaborative exhibition by artists Florence Peake and Tai Shani.Drawing on their research into structures of feminism, their immersive installation is an imagining of what apre or post patriarchal site could be. Peake and Shani are interested in exploring the fluid mythologies andimagined futures of lost civilizations.

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Levi-Strauss goes in depth into the language used in these traditions which could be extremely enlightening for any text based work or even just an understanding into time and presence in myth

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Structural Anthropology.
Despite some recent attempts to renew them, it seems that during, the past twenty years anthropology has increasingly turned from studies in the field of religion. At the same time, and precisely because the interest of professional anthropologists has withdrawn from primitive religion, all kinds of amateurs who claim to belong to other disciplines have seized this opportunity to move in, thereby turning into their private playground what we had left as a wasteland. The prospects for the scientific study of religion have thus been undermined in two ways. . . .

Of all the chapters of religious anthropology probably none has tarried to the same extent as studies in the field of mythology. From a theoretical point of view the situation remains very much the same as it was fifty years ago, namely, chaotic. Myths are still widely interpreted in conflicting ways: as collective dreams, as the outcome of a kind of esthetic play, or as the basis of ritual. Mythological figures are considered as personified abstractions, divinized heroes, or fallen gods. Whatever the hypothesis, the choice amounts to reducing mythology either to idle play or to a crude kind of philosophic speculation.

In order to understand what a myth really is, must we choose between platitude and sophism? Some claim that human societies merely express, through their mythology, fundamental feelings common to the whole of mankind, such as love, hate, or revenge or that they try to provide some kind of explanations for phenomena which they cannot otherwise understand--astronomical, meteorological, and the like. But why should these societies do it in such elaborate and devious ways, when all of them are also acquainted with empirical explanations? On the other hand, psychoanalysts and many anthropologists have shifted the problems away from the natural or cosmological toward the sociological and psychological fields. But then the interpretation becomes too easy: If a given mythology confers prominence on a certain figure, let us say an evil grandmother, it will be claimed that in such a society grandmothers are actually evil and that mythology reflects the social structure and the social relations; but should the actual data be conflicting, it would be as readily claimed that the purpose of mythology is to provide an outlet for repressed feelings. Whatever the situation, a clever dialectic will always find a way to pretend that a meaning has been found.

Mythology confronts the student with a situation which at first sight appears contradictory. On the one hand it would seem that in the course of a myth anything is likely to happen. There is no logic, no continuity. Any characteristic can be attributed to any subject; every conceivable relation can be found. With myth, everything becomes possible. But on the other hand, this apparent arbitrariness is belied by the astounding similarity between myths collected in widely different regions. Therefore the problem: If the content of a myth is contingent, how are we going to explain the fact that myths throughout the world are so similar?

It is precisely this awareness of a basic antinomy pertaining to the nature of myth that may lead us toward its solution. For the contradiction which we face is very similar to that which in earlier times brought considerable worry to the first philosophers concerned with linguistic problems; linguistics could only begin to evolve as a science after this contradiction had been overcome. Ancient philosophers reasoned about language the way we do about mythology. On the one hand, they did notice that in a given language certain sequences of sounds were associated with definite meanings, and they earnestly aimed at discovering a reason for the linkage between those sounds and that meaning. Their attempt, however, was thwarted from the very beginning by the fact that the same sounds were equally present in other languages although the meaning they conveyed was entirely different. The contradiction was surmounted only by the discovery that it is the combination of sounds, not the sounds themselves, which provides the significant data. . . .

To invite the mythologist to compare his precarious situation with that of the linguist in the prescientific stage is not enough. As a matter of fact we may thus be led only from one difficulty to another. There is a very good reason why myth cannot simply be treated as language if its specific problems are to be solved; myth is language: to be known, myth has to be told; it is a part of human speech. In order to preserve its specificity we must be able to show that it is both the same things as language, and also something different from it. Here, too, the past experience of linguists may help us. For language itself can be analyzed into things which are at the same time similar and yet different. This is precisely what is expressed in Saussure's distinction between langue and parole, one being the structural side of language, the other the statistical aspect of it, langue belonging to a reversible time, parole being nonreversible. If those two levels already exist in language, then a third one can conceivably be isolated.

We have distinguished langue and parole by the different time referents which they use. Keeping this in mind, we may notice that myth uses a third referent which combines the properties of the first two. On the one hand, a myth always refers to events alleged have taken place long ago. But what gives the myth an operational value is that the specific pattern described is timeless; it explains the present and the past as well as the future. This can be made clear through a comparison between myth and what appears to have largely replaced it in modern societies, namely, politics. When the historian refers to the French Revolution, it is always as a sequence of past happenings, a non-reversible series of events the remote consequences of which may still be felt at present. But to the French politician, as well as to his followers, the French Revolution is both a sequence belonging to the past as--to the historian--and a timeless pattern which can be detected in the contemporary French social structure and which provides a clue for its interpretation, a lead from which to infer future developments. Michelet, for instance, was a politically minded historian. He describes the French Revolution thus: "That day . . . everything was possible. . . . Future became present . . . that is, no more time, a glimpse of eternity." It is that double structure, altogether historical and ahistorical, which explains how myth, while pertaining to the realm of parole and calling for an explanation as such, as well as to that of langue in which it is expressed, can also be an absolute entity on a third level which, though it remains linguistic by nature, is nevertheless distinct from the other two. . . .

Whatever our ignorance of the language and the culture of the people where it originated, a myth is still felt as a myth by any reader anywhere in the world. Its substance does not lie in its style, its original music, or its syntax, but in the story which it tells. Myth is language, functioning on an especially high level where meaning succeeds practically at "taking off" from the linguistic ground on which it keeps on rolling. . . .

Now for a concrete example of the method we propose. We shall use the Oedipus myth, which is well known to everyone. I am well aware that the Oedipus myth has only reached us under late forms and through literary transmutations concerned more with esthetic and moral preoccupations than with religious or ritual ones whatever these may have been. But we shall not interpret the Oedipus myth in literal terms, much less offer an explanation acceptable to the specialist. We simply wish to illustrate--and without reaching any conclusions with respect to it --a certain technique, whose use is probably not legitimate in this particular instance, owing to the problematic elements indicated above. The "demonstration" should therefore be conceived, not in terms of what the scientist means by this term, but at best in terms of what is meant by the street peddler, whose aim is not to achieve a concrete result, but to explain, as succinctly as possible, the functioning of the mechanical toy which he is trying to sell to the onlookers.

The myth will be treated as an orchestra score would be if it were unwittingly considered as a unilinear series; our task is to reestablish the correct arrangement. Say, for instance, we were confronted with a sequence of the type: 1,2,4,7,8,2,3,4,6,8, 1,4,5,7,8,1,2,5,7,3,4,5,6,8 . . . , the assignment being to put all the l's together, all the 2's, the 3's, etc.; the result is a chart:

We shall attempt to perform the same kind of operation on the Oedipus myth trying out several arrangements of the mythemes until we find one which is in harmony with the principles enumerated above. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that the best arrangement is the following (although it might certainly be improved with the help of a specialist in Greek mythology):

Cadmos seeks his sister Europa, ravished by Zeus

Cadmos kills the dragon

The Spartoi kill one another

Labdacos (Laios' father) = lame(?)

Oedipus kills his father, Laios

Laios (Oedipus' father) = left-sided (?)

Oedipus kills the Sphinx

Oedipus marries his mother, Jocasta

Eteocles kills his brother, Polynices

Antigone buries her brother, Polynices, despite prohibition

We thus find ourselves confronted with four vertical columns, each of which includes several relations belonging to the same bundle. Were we to tell the myth, we would disregard the columns and read the rows from left to right and from top to bottom. But if we want to understand the myth, then we will have to disregard one half of the diachronic dimension (top to bottom) and read from left to right, column after column, each one being considered as a unit.

All the relations belonging to the same column exhibit one common feature which it is our task to discover. For instance, all the events grouped in the first column on the left have something to do with blood relations which are overemphasized, that is, are more intimate than they should be. Let us say, then, that the first column has as its common feature the overrating of blood relations. It is obvious that the second column expressed the same thing, but inverted: underrating of blood relations. The third column refers to monsters being slain. As to the fourth, a few words of clarification are needed. The remarkable connotation of the surnames in Oedipus' father-line has often been noticed. However, linguists usually disregard it, since to them the only way to define the meaning of a term is to investigate all the contexts in which it appears, and personal names, precisely because they are used as such, are not accompanied by any context. With the method we propose to follow the objection disappears, since the myth itself provides its own context. The significance is no longer to be sought in the eventual meaning of each name, but in the fact that all the names have a common feature: All the hypothetical meanings (which may well remain hypothetical) refer to difficulties in walking straight and standing upright.

What then is the relationship between the two columns on the right? Column three refers to monsters. The dragon is a chthonian being which has to be killed in order that mankind be born from the Earth; the Sphinx is a monster unwilling to permit men to live. The last unit reproduces the first one, which has to do with the autochthonous origin of mankind. Since the molesters are overcome by men, we may thus say that the common feature of the third column is denial of the autochthonous origin of man.

This immediately helps us to understand the meaning of the fourth column. In mythology it is a universal characteristic of men born from the Earth that at the moment they emerge from the depth they either cannot walk or they walk clumsily. This is the case of the chthonian beings in the mythology of the Pueblo: Muyingwu, who leads the emergence, and the chthonian Shumaikoli are lame ("bleeding-foot," "sore-foot"). The same happens to the Koskimo of the Kwakiutl after they have been swallowed by the chthonian monster, Tsiakish: When they returned to the surface of the earth "they limped forward or tripped sideways." Thus the common feature of the fourth column is the persistence of the autochthonous origin of man. It follows that column four is to column three as column one is to column two. The inability to connect two kinds of relationships is overcome (or rather replaced) by the assertion that contradictory relationships are identical inasmuch as they are both self-contradictory in a similar way. Although this is still a provisional formulation of the structure of mythical thought, it is sufficient at this stage.

Turning back to the Oedipus myth, we may now see what it means. The myth has to do with the inability, for a culture which holds the belief that mankind is autochthonous (see, for instance, Pausanias, VIII, xxix, 4: plants provide a model for humans), to find a satisfactory transition between this theory and the knowledge that human beings are actually born from the union of man and woman. Although the problem obviously cannot be solved, the Oedipus myth provides a kind of logical tool which relates the original problem--born from one or born from two?-- to the derivative problem: born from different or born from same? By a correlation of this type, the overrating of blood relations is to the underrating of blood relations as the attempt to escape autochthony is to the impossibility to succeed in it. Although experience contradicts theory, social life validates cosmology by its similarity of structure. Hence cosmology is true.

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Structural Anthropology.Despite some recent attempts to renew them, it seems that during, the past twenty years anthropology has increasingly turned from studies in the field of religion.

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This deceiving stream is only 2m wide but has a shocking 100% mortality rate for anyone who falls in due to the rapid currents that will drag anyone under and has become part of local folklore

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most devastating natural disaster in history left 227,898 dead when a 9.3 magnitude earthquake hit off the coast of Sumatra and shockwaves were felt throughout the globe

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The Rio Tinto area has been the source of approximately 5,000 years of ore mining, including copper, silver, gold, and other minerals, extracted as far as 20 kilometres from the river shores. As a possible result of the mining, the Río Tinto is notable for being very acidic (pH 2) and its deep reddish hue is due to iron dissolved in the water. Acid mine drainage from the mines leads to severe environmental problems because the acidity (low pH) dissolves heavy metals into the water. It is not clear how much acid drainage has come from natural processes and how much has come from mining. There are severe environmental concerns over the pollution in the river.

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I like the veins of the river being so visible in this shot, not looking polluted but mythical

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water expresses the constant threat of natural disaster and flood.

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water expresses the constant threat of natural disaster and flood.

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its power over the man-made shows how the power structures we create and the physical barriers we build to protect ourselves are useless in the face of a reckoning.
Our presence on earth is ephemeral and minute

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Britannic flood stories

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This is the third article in our series on flooding in popular culture. Click on the links to read our articles on flood music and flood films. This time we're taking a trip back in time. Extreme flooding forms one of the key sequences in the Bible. But it's not just Christian scripture where floods play a big role. Here are three of the flood stories and myths from across the British Isles and Ireland. Know of another great flood myth to include? Let us know on Twitter or Facebook.
Lyoness - the flood story behind Cornish Atlantis

Cornish legends that date back to Arthurian myths contain a fascinating story about a land lost to the sea. The lost land of Lyonesse was said to stretch from the western tip of Cornwall to the Isles of Scilly around 30 miles away. The capital of the land was an impressive city called Lion. Stories suggest that Lyonesse had over 140 churches and was home to strong and beautiful inhabitants, including being the birthplace of Arthurian knight Tristan.

According to the flood story of Lyonesse, Land's End is a misnomer, and Cornwall stretched for a further 30 miles.

The legend of this lost land shows similarities to other flood myths. The people of Lyonesse were said to have committed terrible crimes and were forsaken by God. As a result, God sent a horrific storm that submerged the entire area in a single night.

Cornish legends tell of a single survivor called Trevelyan, whose horse lost a shoe whilst they escaped, believed to be the source of the three horseshoe coats of arms in the region.

The legend continues through flood stories that you can hear the church bells ringing in the deep. From time to time fishermen claim to pull out rocks from the buildings of Lion, even saying that they found glasses, forks or wood in their fishing nets.

Dwyfan and Dwyfach - Welsh lake monster myth

The legend of Dwyfan and Dwyfac was preserved in the Welsh Triads - a group of medieval text that preserve key Welsh folklore. It bears remarkable similarities to the Noah story from the bible. The two titular characters were the sole survivors of a flood that wiped out the entire population of Britain.

The similarities don't stop there though. They escaped the flood in a mast-less boat (a bit like an ark) and according to some sources took two of each animal species with which to repopulate the island.

The terrible beast Anfanc lived in a Welsh lake like this before causing a terrible flood that wiped out the population of Britain.

Where the stories part ways is what caused the flood. For the Bible it was the wrath of God. In the Welsh flood story, it was caused by a terrible monster. Descriptions of the demonic beast Anfanc range from a crocodile, giant beaver or even a dwarf. Anfanc was said to fill and eat whoever entered it's lake. Llyn Llion in modern day Wales is the leading contender for the lake's location.

Cessair - the story of Ireland's birth

The final flood story in this article is supposed to be in direct relation to the Biblical flood. Cessair - one of the first people to set foot on Ireland, was said to be a descendant of Noah (although certain sources suggest that this was an attempt to Christianise a formerly pagan myth).

According to the Irish pseudo-historical Lebor Gabála Érenn, Cessair and the other settlers were told to go as fair west as possible to avoid the flood. Landing just 40 days before the event, Cessair survived along with other women and just one man, her husband, Fintán.

The myth suggests that with 50 women and no men for company, Fintán was overwhelmed and fled. He turned into a hawk and survived for 5,500 years - passing on his wisdom to advise the kings of Ireland throughout the ages.

Cessair was charged with going as far West as possible. She could have ended up near the Cliffs of Moher on the West coast of Ireland.

Flood story sources

Here are the sources for this blog (which was inspired by this awesome list of flood stories) - check them out to find out more:

Think we've missed a great flood story? Let us know on Twitter or Facebook! To find out more about more about our record-breaking flood insurance visit our homepage.

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Flood myths: ancient flood stories from the UK and Ireland

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This is the third article in our series on flooding in popular culture. Click on the links to read our articles on flood music and flood films. This time we're taking a trip back in time. Extreme flooding forms one of the key sequences in the Bible.

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vista de la theologia indiorum de fray Domingo de Vico

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vista de la theologia indiorum de fray Domingo de Vico

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Vista de La Theologuia Indiorum de fray Domingo de Vico

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Volver a los detalles del artículo La Theologuia Indiorum de fray Domingo de Vico Descargar Descargar PDF

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Lovecraft has a unique perspective on existentialism because it's one undeniably driven by fear of the unknown and a hatred of change. It's his staunch rigidity in what he finds to be safe and comfortable that brings out his horror and inspires his Eldrich beings.
What I find fascinating is that despite being a proud atheist, he still created a pantheon of sorts as see in this 'Iceberg video': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPq9-m1YHj4 .

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although not a way of telling stories between two humans there's something quite intimate about telling a chat bot a story and it responding in turn to you.
The relationships we have with our technology is very intimate, I'd argue more intimate than most people.
It's also very interesting trying to decipher why the AI gave you the specific amalgamation of images that it did for something that doesn't exist in reality or something with very little information

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'exploring themes of destruction, resurrection and rebirth through a personal retelling of stories of the Nephilim' this exhibition struck me through it's use of symbolism: of water glistening in the forbidden fruit to be found later in the Nephilim's tears and in the sky. Mostly the materiality is what catches my eye. The intense colours and the large metal frames with intricate detailing and sunburst motifs place the images within a world inhabited by those with grander sensibilities than they have the skill or materials to produce. <-- this could also be given their small size.

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The Nephilim were a race of Angels that were cast out of paradise for disobedient and immoral behaviour. They were doomed to spend the rest of eternity, not in Hell, but on Earth. Some believe these fallen angels are still among us, traveling the Earth, mating with humans and creating a secret population of Nephilim beings who are half human, half angel - their joint ancestral grief being the knot binding their sullen fates. 'Angels in Purgatory' follows the episodic, autobiography of a fictitious character 'the Self' based on the Nephilim, making a pilgrimage through the purgatory of the mind.

Qahtani works across painting, drawing and sculpture to produce work that draws on her own heritage, ancient cultures and nature's diverse ecosystems as a means to create visual stories which seem to exist in the twilight zone - too distorted to be real, too familiar to be a dream. Through the retelling of the story of Nephilim, the exhibition becomes an exploration into the ironic dichotomy of humankind - life and death, light and dark and pain and pleasure - challenging the binary nature of these extremes. The artist investigates the ways in which these so-called opposites may co-exist in time and space.

During the odyssey within the story and Qahtani's paintings, the character is split into many versions of the Self, with the most notable being the Anti-Self, or the poltergeist. This is depicted in the work using genuine Amethyst - a stone used for witches to scry and use their psychic powers. Qahtani paints the Self in genuine Lapis Lazuli - or 'blue stone' - reminiscent of the untainted purity at the beginning of life. Historically, Lapis Lazuli was a colour exclusively reserved to paint the robes of the Virgin Mary as the pigment was rare and its cost high. The use of crystal pigments for these characters allows them to exist on a liminal plane, bestowing upon them energies that may not be coherent in the tangible, earthly realm.

Adding a further materiality and three-dimensional aspect to the work, the artist uses Abalone shell as a backing in certain works, such as 'Demon Dance' (2022), to create borders for the worlds being depicted. The artist reveals within the work a shifting iridescence that uncovers the initial sparks of knowing, as the Self begins to enter the subconscious mind. Using themes of hedonism, grief, hurt and ecstasy, the artist depicts the subconscious mind using memories from her own life. In 'Damned To The Ephemeral', we see the Self and Anti-Self locked in an almost suffocating embrace, whilst in 'I Am The You in Me (I Beg You To Set Me Free)' there is a chilling moment of recognition - that the illusion of separateness is one of the Ego - and pleasure and pain are one.

The work in 'Angels In Purgatory' has been created throughout late 2022 and includes some of the most intricate sculptural pieces Qahtani has created to date, each one hand-sculpted over 40 hours. The exhibition also presents the most extensive and large-scale works on panel by the artist.

Zayn Qahtani is exhibited in VITRINE Fitzrovia's basement gallery. This is the first time the space has been used for an individual solo show by a young emerging artist, which is a format that the gallery will continue within its commitment to presenting emerging artists at the very start of their careers.

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The Nephilim were a race of Angels that were cast out of paradise for disobedient and immoral behaviour. They were doomed to spend the rest of eternity, not in Hell, but on Earth.

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I like the 2 dimensional quality to her work and the elegance of her imagery. It feels surreal and yet familiar, almost like a fairytale

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Now you can find the illustrator making an abundance of work that circulates between a couple of key influences. The first and most prominent stems from her adoration for animals - a topic she's been fascinated by since childhood. "I could, and still can, spend hours watching birds, bugs, cats, horses, whatever I can spy," she says. "I try to retain as much as possible: attitudes, shapes, anything that can later help me to imagine my strange beasts." This is why Lou's own creations tend to take on an anthropomorphic form, even if they might not be explicitly outlining the shape of a real life animal. Rather, they're a fantastical and mythical version of her imagination. The second is her love of literature, with folktales, Greek myths and fairytales influencing much of her practice. Think texts such as Joseph Campbell's Power of Myth, Jung's Man and his Symbols - " infinite wells of inspiration that work almost as encyclopaedias of the mind" - plus Brothers Grimm, Anderson and Robert Graves among others.

When making one of her mythical pieces, Lou tends to avoid sketching and instead prefers to write - penning whatever comes to mind. This way, she can work intuitively, and often she will draw from both her own personal memories and "universal realms", she says. "Images come to me almost as visions and there is something almost otherworldly that pushes me to lay them on paper." Sometimes, the process can be lengthy, as not only is she trying to work up an image in the "fog" of her brain, she's also figuring out what she wants the scene to say: the storyline. "Themes and topics appear as the paint is being laid on the paper. Once I am able to take a step back, I can see that these images are often the reflections of very personal memories and experiences; I can see pieces of my childhood, spiritual questions that have been populating my mind, my evolving understanding of womanhood and many more."

A natural storyteller, Lou uses both abstraction and more obvious depictions to construct her narratives. Two illustrations named The Beginning and The Nurse, for example, examine the notions of memory, family, nature and growing up. "I particularly like these paintings because the theme is close to my heart and the fact that they are only the 'start of something bigger' breathes new life into them, as if they were calling for the next chapters." These paintings, as well as her wider body of work, are viewed as "doors" into her own personal universe and a place that's inviting for the viewer. "What I would love is for people to have a feeling of reconciliation with what is living in their minds because these are the elements that connect us as humans to something higher at the same time. Whether they are mine, yours or an entire populations', mythologies and stories of all kinds are so important as a means of communication, connection and appeasement."

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Lou Benesch's mythical artworks are inspired by folklore, animals and literature

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The Paris-based illustrator and artist uses her medium to tell personal and fantastical stories of her past.

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Despite including beings from greek myth Homer's Odessey is technically an epic poem
It's the sister epic to the earlier 'The Illiad'
I like the idea of the ocean and water being out to get you for the crimes you've committed in your life like Posiden and his grudge against Odysseus for the murder of his son. (The sheer length of time he spent at sea and all the trials he faced are also extremely interesting as each one has its own back story and history so they could be some interesting symbology. )

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The Internet Classics Archive | The Odyssey by Homer

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The Odyssey by Homer, part of the Internet Classics Archive

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I like the way this internet creator has translated something so complex and hard to understand through reading and even listening into something so familiar that I feel I've seen before in a point-and-click video game. I also like how just like how the mythology is old the style of digital map looks old and poorly rendered
It makes the underworld feel like a real place that could exist with the intricacy of the shoreline and rivers

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Do you have an interest in the Ancient World?

Would you like to know more?

'Are You Not Entertained?'

The Digital Maps section is useful for those studying Ancient History and Archaeology, who would like to gain a better understanding of certain sites or where certain events took place. The Pompeii Map is also useful for those studying the Cambridge Latin Course.

The Mythology section is useful for those studying Greek and Latin who would like to understand the mythology behind the translations and those who have an interest in Ancient History.

For those studying Greek and Latin at school, there are dedicated languages sections with resources for grammar and vocabulary for the various UK examination boards, particularly for Common Entrance. The Greek Mythology and the Recommended Reading (Historical Fiction) and Media sections will help with understanding the cultures behind the languages.

Digital Maps is a fantastic website for all things Ancient!
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Do you have an interest in the Ancient World? Would you like to know more? 'Are You Not Entertained?' The Digital Maps section is useful for those studying Ancient History and Archaeology, who would like to gain a better understanding of certain sites or where certain events took place.

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Introduce your chosen subject area. What interests you as potential starting points or areas of research? What influenced this choice? (650 words) 

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Introduce your chosen subject area. What interests you as potential starting points or areas of research? What influenced this choice? (650 words) 

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In my work I want to discuss belief systems and spirituality in our current age and their effects on our societies for example, I'm really interested in the community practice of myth/storytelling in religious practice and how they affect the way we interact with others and organise reality during difficult times. How does myth and storytelling affect the interpersonal relationships we develop before we go; friendships and families not whole societies? What are the idiosyncrasies of storytelling when you’re in a 2 or 3 or 4? How does a personal setting for storytelling affect the way we act and feel in the face of disaster?

As a child I would ring the bells at my local church with my best friend multiple days a week and although bellringing is technically secular (it's a form of music like how a violin or piano is), it’s hard to deny the religious veins that run through it, perhaps by its location in the church tower. These ideas really started to interest me after I lived in my Grandfather’s house as a teen and would go to church with him and experience the community practices involved with belief such as live bible readings, reenactments, singing, and Sunday school activities like drawing and the many cups of tea afterwards.

Artworks and stories in western society have long been a tool of Christianity for political change for example the Baroque movement was used as a tool by the Pope to engage the masses in Catholicism through its drama and intensity. A visual language of symbols is a quick way of engaging an audience that can be reused over and over again, therefore, making it a good long-term investment in ways that can’t be expressed in monetary terms.

I want to read into water and people’s connections to it and into natural disasters and the existential horror of them. How people reconcile with their fear of potential uncontrollable natural forces bigger than themselves and how these feelings are used as a tool for interpersonal connection and self-reflection. My dad's upbringing on an island and proximity to the sea greatly influence my interest in the sea as a specific source of spiritual energy and horror/reverence for our tiny stature in the world/universe. An interesting starting point for this idea of world-ending natural disaster is in mythical texts and oral traditions such as the ones in the crosscultural ‘flood myths’ like the flood story told in Abrahamic religious doctrine of Noah’s Arc and in others such as in the myths of the ancient Maya and later Aztecs (Mexica people).

In addition, my mental health history has made me deeply aware of my place in reality and the fear of smallness and inherent ephemerality that comes with being a human that will eventually have everything end and eventually become forgotten. Therefore I want to investigate the emotional connections we can make under the threat of an unknown apocalypse as I believe I can bring an honest depiction to the conversation surrounding this quite wide topic.

In terms of materiality, I’m interested in the process of layering and translucency to create a sense of being lit from within as it helps to visualise a lot of my interests in the spiritual- mostly I've used paint for this but would like to look into other mediums in conjunction. I also like using a naturalistic looseness to give any drawings a sense of energy and the work being driven by human intuition/emotion. Given the area of interest, however, writing and performance may also be a good avenue for exploration given that myth is told through oral tradition.

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Carrington was one of the most influential surrealists I found when looking into worldbuilding. After seeing her work 'Eluhim' I found myself struck by the sense of verticality that made me ask questions about the world she was creating. Although it was created before the advent of smartphones it has a set of dimensions very similar to the 4:9 ratio of modern smartphones which made it seem even more intriguing. Almost as if someone had taken a photo of whatever ritual was going on in that moment asking where are they going? what are they doing? why are they here?
I like her hazy paint application and the depth in the shadows that overlap some of the subjects. I also like the recurring shapes and lines found in the work

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Paintings and drawings by Leonora Carrington

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Paintings and drawings by Leonora Carrington that are categorized by years as well as compilations of her art work and drawings.

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Contextually reference your subject matter. What art, design, cultural, and historical references can you look at to gain insight? Why are they relevant? (650 words)

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Contextually reference your subject matter. What art, design, cultural, and historical references can you look at to gain insight? Why are they relevant? (650 words)

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I want to look into artists whose work explores themes of religion and worldbuilding through narrative and symbolism such as Rae Klein, and Leonora Carrington. I love their use of escapism through fantastical imagery and symbols to open the mind and calm the senses. Specifically I like the anthropomorphised animals that Carrington makes to represent old, noble beings and how expansive the worlds she creates are. She built whole mythologies for her creatures to engage with and architecture for them to inhabit and allows narratives to play out all in a single image. Klein meanwhile has a very nostalgic quality to her work, filled with watery eyes and sunbleached yellows and sparkly sunbursts. Her painting feels like she’s standing up close to you- very close and whispering one of her most personal secrets in your ear in a tone just too breathy for you to catch it. Both painters give you the impression of looking into a window of another universe that has a deep history and only gives you a hint at the trauma that runs through the world's veins.

I’m also looking at the work of Tai Shani who has her own unique visual language that has an emphasis on the hallucinatory and feels very Hellenistic and cultish

I’m very intrigued by her process of making which always stems from a piece of writing at the core- regardless of whether the writing is included in the resolution of the work. She creates worlds that feel unfamiliar yet familiar, slightly detached from reality that speak to the universality of sensory and tactile experiences. This comes across especially in her performance work for example in her 30min film ‘The Vampyre’. The piece circulates around a single close-up of the vampyre’s face as she monologues to the viewer. With an emphasis on her eyes and blood stained mouth, she holds our gaze and challenges it with subtle eyebrow raises and the baring of teeth in a manner that feels darkly erotic. She is someone who’s work I think will be one of the most helpful due to some of her works overlapping with my current questions

In a more unhinged turn of events I’m also extremely influenced by the surreal comedies of Monty Python and their bizarre plots and logic that flow like a barely lucid stream of consciousness. There’s a lot that can be gained by a more irreverent point of view and one that tries to charm the viewer rather than one more detached and cerebral. Their relevance comes in the form of their disregard for conforming to narrative and worldbuilding structure and pushing boundaries with their depictions of sensitive and serious subjects (namely Christianity in films such as ‘The Holy Grail’, ‘Life of Brian’, and ‘The Meaning of Life’). Their flippant approach to death and disaster is a different perspective that I think will be very useful in maintaining the balance of levity and melancholy in my own work because storytelling especially in a close setting (disregarding subject matter) is mostly an enjoyable activity that we partake in.

To gain insight looking into religions like paganism that have a larger focus on the mystical may be useful or looking into religions with large pantheons of specialised gods and followers may be helpful due to the highly individual circumstances that cause prayers to each. Mythologies like those could include the greek (or even earlier minoan) due to their wide popularity and connection to water and the sea in their stories. It also feels like a natural graduation from a focus exclusively on Christianity due to it being the blueprint for the Romans and their complex relationship with Christianity.

Another set of Pantheons that interest me a lot is the Aztec and Mayan mythology due to their unique perspective on life and death. Specifically their story about their journey to the world of the dead I found so comlex and fleshed out. In particular the idea that the afterworld is a temporary state and that there is no eternal paradise is completely different from many of the the religions I’m familiar with and gives my questions a completely different feeling.

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How does this subject area relate to the bigger picture of your own expertise?Have you explored similar concepts before? Talk about a project you have done in specialism that is relevant either conceptually or technically. Which mediums, techniques, materials that you have mastered on the course so far could you utilise in your FMP? (200)

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How does this subject area relate to the bigger picture of your own expertise?Have you explored similar concepts before? Talk about a project you have done in specialism that is relevant either conceptually or technically. Which mediums, techniques, materials that you have mastered on the course so far could you utilise in your FMP? (200)

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Previously,I’ve done work based on my own experience with Anglican and Evangelical churches. Moving onto my FMP I want to move away from focusing on the organised nature of religion and the people at the top of these institutions; moving towards the more intimate interpersonal relationships that come with the formation of belief systems.

In my ‘WIP show’ piece ‘Gateway’ the paint application was very varied in terms of viscosity and opacity and types of mark-making which breathed a bit of excitement and chaos excitement into the piece. Therefore in my FMP I believe painting is a very good avenue I could go down considering my ‘WIP show’ piece’s chaos splatters and drips that have the potential to aline with my current area of interest. Previously I’ve also explored the idea of the Christian apocalypse but instead approached it as an immortal act of God rather than thinking about it through the lens of a human act of storytelling. I want to also include poetry as part of my FMP as my text work has been the aspect of my practice I’ve developed a lot since starting the course and it would conceptually be appropriate to involve in a project on myth and story. The course has also made me more interested in installation and appreciate the audience interaction in the art and I feel audience participation could also be a good avenue to explore.

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meme culture as a tool for young people to collectively embrace and discuss difficult hot topics??

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AI is a major point for conspiracy theories which has a major link to existential fear

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AI is a major point for conspiracy theories which has a major link to existential fear