There are many, many new items here now, some even that he had forgotten to put in his regular store, some new exclusives to us.

There will also be many additions in the coming days by Bethalynne Bajema

Myke will also be putting up many many more originals here in the Archive over the next day or two as well, for those who like to collect original pieces – aside from what is already here, there will be a number of additional engravings of all sizes and themes, as well as some small scuptures and perhaps even some wood and brass works.

So, please do take a look, everything is one sale right now. I don’t think there is a thing in the store that has not been at least somewhat reduced. This week will be the very best time to acquire some original art, and a very good time to purchase prints and other merchandise as well.

Share This

After much frustration and failure Professor Vogel came upon an invention that seemed to conduct itself perfectly. The rather large invention was a reading machine, a device that could be placed over a page of written words that were read and clearly reproduced aloud from a speaking apparatus at the top of the machine. The professor hoped such a machine would greatly aid the blind in finally having access to books without needing someone else to read them to them, or waiting for them to be translated into brail. The only mishaps the good professor kept encountering were that the words being read aloud often times were not the words to be found on the pages. He couldn’t quite tell if this was a simple matter of the reader not being able to translate what it was reading, or something along those lines. What troubled and vexed him was the fact that what was being spoken aloud, though not what was on the page, was still a well thought out and perfectly understandable speech. It almost sounded like the reading machine was reading its own stories in place of what it read on the pages of the book or paper its reading eye glass was moved over.

As he grew increasingly frustrated with a device that seemed to be working perfectly and yet was not, he found himself one night spilling his woes to his sister Belle over several glasses of brandy and sinful truffles. His sister suggested he leave the reading machine with her and see what she could make of it. She was just as bright as her older brother, just as capable at construction and invention, and in this case she would be a pair of fresh eyes taking an equally fresh look at the machine. Vogel agreed and left his reading machine with Belle.

Professor Vogel did not hear from his sister for a week after giving over the reading machine to her. He made several stops to her flat but found her not answering her door bell on each occasion. Finally, more worried than anything else, he forced his way into her small flat to make sure all was well. What he found was Belle huddled in a corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as she rocked back and forth. Her eyes were wide open and her lips mumbling silently. He could not rouse her from this state. It was only when he moved over to the reading machine, that sat perched above an array of scattered books, that Belle suddenly came around. She jumped up and violently pushed her brother away from the machine. “Don’t let it speak Semper! Don’t let it!” she cried out.

Belle never recovered from this state and no one knows why or how she came to be in this way. The only thing doctors could draw from her was mad jibberish about how it spoke for them. The it and them in question she never gave a name for. Though Professor Vogel was not one to buy into foolishness, he could not ignore a few facts regarding his sister. She had been fine until he left her alone with his reading machine. The reading machine that spoke stories but not stories found in the books given to it to read. He didn’t want to draw strange conclusions, but his sister had been driven mad in a matter of days with only the reading machine being the new addition to her environment. Feeling somehow responsible for the state of his sister, Professor Vogel placed his reading machine in a crate and had it stored away in his basement, never to look at it again.

Decades later after the professor’s death, the contents of his house became the property of the university that he had taught at. Much of his belongings were auctioned off and the proceeds given over to the student charity fund. Some of these items were purchased by a group representing the Miskatonic Archive. Professor Vogel’s reading machine came into possession of the Archive.

Though study of the reading machine has only just begun, a few things were noticed right off by its new owners. The reading machine when put into use did indeed translate the written word into a spoken word. But what it was reading was not coming from the books laid out in front of it. The reading eye glass of this invention was able to see something those around it could not, and it was this unseen thing that the machine read aloud. The tone of this content seemed to depend greatly upon who was handling the machine and what type of environment surrounded it. In the brightly lit glass walled office of Babel Jean Tea-Hymn the machine told enchanting fairy tales never before read. When the reading machine was in the gloomy and neglected rooms of the Archive’s old storage facility the tales it told were dark and so ominous that those listening to it quickly covered their ears and rushed to shut the machine off.

A team of two Archive professors and a handful of interns have taken on the duty of properly studying Professor Vogel’s reading machine. The notes of Professor Vogel’s that once explained how he crafted the device have sadly been lost. But the researchers hope to carefully take the machine apart and put it back together again and try and understand how this device’s strange abilities came to be…

The artwork accompanying this story is copyright 2009 Bethalynne Bajema, All Rights Reserved. This print is currently available as a limited edition signed metallic print. For ordering info/options please follow this link.

Share This

Abney Park

September 26th, 9:00pm at HEAVEN
172 S. Washington Street, Seattle, 98104
phone 206-622-1863 | 21 and over | Tickets $13

The Sepiachord Crew WILL BE THERE! At a TABLE! With FREE STUFF!!!

This Weekend:

Eric Adams, Timothy Lantz, and Joanna Estep will all be at the Baltimore Comicon – a wonderful collection of art noir and steampunk artists in one place. If you live in or around Baltimore you should not miss this event.

Timothy Lantz, aka “Archeon” will be there to sell and sign copies of his amazing artwork, as well as his Archeon Tarot.

Eric Adams will be signing and selling his newest issue in the Lackluster World Saga, as well as his collaborative project with Joanna Estep “Reflection”.

Joanna Estep will have copies of “Roadsong” on hand as well as oodles of her amazing artwork. She will likely also be doing custom drawings and signatures.

above: Reflection by Eric Adams and Joanna Estep

Out this Week:

Bethalynne Bajema’s “Sepia” a collection of beautiful poetry, reflection, and prose set atop a collection of wonderous artwork, is now available for presale. Copies to be shipped in mid-October.

Above: Thumbnails from “some Ghouls Wander by Mistake”

“Some Ghouls Wander by Mistake” by Myke Amend is now available for presale, shipping in mid-November. Included are pages of horrid gags, pranks and jokes, set atop a backdrop of horror and lovecraftian strange fiction story, bound together with strange art-noir comic stylings. If you have ever been offended by anything, you probably should not read a single page of it; Otherwise, please take some time to read the 20 page free preview available at SomeGhoulsWanderbyMistake.com

Share This

Travel Log, 27th of June, 2008, or 1908, I can never tell anymore.
Mechanical Insects in the Forest

A small path presented itself in the foliage and we used this spot to slip into the wall of green. About four minutes of walking into the forest presented us with our first novelty. Or well, perhaps novelty is not the best word. Aberration? No. Weird stuffs? Yes, we were presented with weird stuffs in the form of a thick old tree that was covered in clock faces. One would think there would be a neatly designed sign beside the tree to explain its strange shrine of visual time, like most strange or historical markers have in New England. But no. The tree stood alone in a small clearing and a vast variety of clock faces in just as many sizes lay hooked to the tree.

Upon looking a little closer it became apparent that not one of the clocks was keeping the same time. The difference in some may only be minutes, but the exact time was not to be had from any of them. Michael leaned in to have a closer look at this and jumped back as a strange crickety creature came between him and the clock face he was staring at.

Now, this creature looked like an insect, but its movements seemed very sluggish and labored, as though its small body was carrying nearly too much weight for its wings. Looking closely we could see that it indeed was nearly too heavy for its wispy wings, as its body was made of a gold metal. It landed on the top of one of the clock faces, fidgeted with its legs around the top of the clock till it got a strong purchase on a hook hanging from a nob on the tree. It gave its wings a frenzied buzzing before lifting off and taking the clock with it. The clocks surrounding the newly departed one all clanked back into place, leaving only a small spot on the tree visible.

Another metal insect of a different design came along and followed the same routine. And then another. We were so busy watching this strange display that we almost missed the large and labored beetle moving across the ground. He had gears sticking out from its bum and some type of circular reading glass on its back. Behind it it dragged a clock. Slowly it moved over the tree’s thick trunk legs and up the side of the tree. It found one of the empty nobs and placed the clock face on it.

The whole thing was very efficient and timely, this more obvious the longer we stayed to watch. But the whole thing was terribly surreal. I mean, to what purpose was this tree and its many clocks here? And who had crafted these mechanical insects to tend to the tree and its coming and going clocks? A mystery very tempting to solve. The only problem was the sun was starting to set, and long shadows were starting to darken up the forest. We feared staying much longer might lead to us not finding our way out again.

In a rash move, desperate for some sort of information about this scene, Michael reached out and grabbed one of the larger mechanical creatures off of the tree before it could fly away with a clock. The clock fell to the ground and its glass face broke. The glass shards caused the clock hands to bend and stop moving steadily forward. The strangest noise filled the forest as this was going on. It was as if somewhere in the wooded area someone was moaning over head and it vibrated within the trees.

As we tried to ignore this strange sound, Michael took his pocket knife from his back pocket and used one of the thin blades to remove the cover of the dragonfly’s back. Inside were more mechanical parts, lots of turning cogs and rotating parts. But resting neatly in the middle of all of this was a small, rolled up piece of parchment. Michael held the dragonfly’s metal bits apart so that I could slip my fingers inside of it and remove the parchment.

I unwrapped the aged looking little thing and squinted to read the very small script that was very elegantly written on the page. It read: Eleanor Patch, stolen time twelve minutes. Taken from her at four o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday. She is to be returned eight minutes of that, at three o’clock on a Thursday. The Fates are all in agreement on this solicitation and request.

At reading this Michael dropped the dragonfly and both of us stepped away from it and the tree. The bug turned, seeming to stare up at us from its mesh looking fake eyes. It soon recovered and took back to the air, rushing away from the tree. Another of the large beetles had come and was slowly dragging the broken clock away, while smaller, almost tick like insects were busy eating the remains of the glass and small clock bits.

The two of us turned from this scene and quickly left the forest the way we’d come. I think subconsciously we were trying to forget our steps as if to mentally brush dirt over the path we’d taken so that it would remain hidden. It was a strange sight and despite how beautiful the insects were, and the clock faces they tended, there was an overwhelming sensation of something being wrong with the area. Some mysteries are like that, and the sensation of wrongness is meant -to the wise willing to heed it- keep people away. We heeded the sensation.

Back home we tried to put the event behind us and simply watch a movie. The sound of soft gnawing on metal brought our attention back to the car. Instead of worrying about witch doctors and mechanics again, Michael simply grabbed our large and ferocious (in theory) feline, put his harness and leash on him, and took him outside to the car. He opened the hood, set the cat down and pointed to a pair of eyes peering out from behind the engine. “Nom noms! Get him!” He commanded the feline. There were a few icky sounds while Hunter rid the car of its new infestation of gremlins, but it was pretty clean when I went down to retrieve him. And thankfully we’ve yet to have to clean up any gremlin heavy hairballs on the carpet.

Like many of the things we encounter in our shared lives, Michael and I have been trying to artfully recreate the insects we witnessed and the clocks they tended to. Please find enclosed on the next page of this journal a few paint sketches of what we saw.

. .. . .. … .. …. .. … .. . .. .

Mechanical Insects in the Forest Copyright (c)2008 Bethalynne Bajema
Mechanical insects done by both Myke Amend & Bethalynne Bajema (c)2008
Insect and Clock collages by Bethalynne Bajema (c)2008

Share This

Mixing equal parts Victorian horror, sepia erotica, clockwork logic and Industrial music, Beth carves her dreams on the skins of Tibetan holy men before transferring their contents to the computer’s screen.

Beth currently resides on America ’s East Coast with her better half, a rather bizarre little cat, a laptop, and her dark army. Online she can be found at Bajema’s Web or her online journal.

(Biography provided by John Galati)

Examples of Beth’s Work (Click on a thumbnail to see a larger view)

All images in this post are copyright © 2008 Bethalynne Bajema,
and used by this site with permission

Beth’s first collection of work is available through the lulu.com site.

Beth’s prints and various craft work can be found in Etta Diem’s Attic Shop

Share This