Faust

Two Pale Shadows

The Continuing Misadventures of
The Thin White Duke and the Cryptkeeper

• What follows are the discourses of D.McCluskey and G. Thomson, two gentlemen cursed with what must be described as genius and hopelessness in mercurial measures. The purpose of this document is as incomprehensible as the purpose of all manifest art - it is as a sightless but vivid mural, divinely created in the darkened churches of these two minds. In gloom, its shades and forms can be learnt; but its truths must be intuitively recognised amongst the blind shadow, the darkness which shapes our cathedral, soaring ever-upwards in a terrible steeple, towards the impossible zenith of insight which daylight can never reveal.

January 5th 2005

An hour past midnight and the sky is filled with unnatural colour - the light of the distant city has swollen upwards, the gaseous pestilence of modern life given form in air. Once there had hung the abyss, the invisible canvas through which artists had gazed into the infinity of their labours. Now it is sullied, a filthy bruise of purple and orange particles. The sky is nothing but a dirty lense, and so artist turns to artist, to catch a glimpse of the ancient depths their portal eyes hold, seeking the absolute clarity to be found in the void. A gale claws at the stammering windowpane, writhing trees shriek and raise their silver-boned hackles like ageless zealots. The artist's body is quickened with the fearful, inhuman life of the night; his mind is consumed by darkness, where sensation and perception are conjured, where the only reality is himself, where the only life is illusion. He labours under a lonely maniacal dream now, and the world is gone, gone.

It takes genius to find truth in this world

The Twisted Mirror

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