Weekend links 827

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Dante in his Study with Episodes from the Inferno (1978) by Tom Phillips.

• “This set, featuring two of the surviving members of Cabaret Voltaire, is as clear and powerful as any of the live albums the group released while Richard H. Kirk was alive.” Derek Walmsley, reviewing what we’ve been told will be the last ever Cabaret Voltaire album. I can also vouch for its excellence but then I’m not what you might call an impartial listener. My copy arrived in the post only a couple of hours before Boards Of Canada made the announcement they’d been teasing for the past two weeks—the new BOC album, Inferno, will be released at the end of May—a coincidence that felt vaguely significant. “How random is random?” as William Burroughs used to say. It’s tempting to describe the moment as the passing of a creative torch but I doubt either of the groups would agree. Boards Of Canada’s approach to electronic music has always been very different to that of Cabaret Voltaire: less aggressive, more melodic, more pastoral, more concerned with memories and the past than with the present or the near future. But the promotional videos for Inferno are reminiscent of the scratch videos that Cabaret Voltaire were creating in the 1980s: degraded VHS assemblages collaged from TV broadcasts and home-movie footage, visual equivalents of a tuning dial running through the shortwave radio spectrum. Then there’s the latest BOC album art which, when taken with details from the teaser video, foregrounds the same fascination with American bastardisations of Christianity that the Cabs were referring to in Sluggin’ Fer Jesus and The Covenant, The Sword And The Arm Of The Lord. I’ll leave it to others to play with the interpretations that can be brought to an album title like Inferno. We’ll no doubt be seeing a great deal of journalistic musing around this and related issues before and after the end of May.

• Jiří Barta’s Expressionist animated adaptation of the Pied Piper story, Krysař (1985), has turned up in high definition at YouTube. Ignore the credit for Wilfred Jackson, an American animation director who had nothing to do with Barta’s film.

• At Public Domain Review: Magic by return of post: Allan Johnson explores the history of those mail-order occult outfits whose ads fill out the pages of the early American pulps.

Visual Music: a lecture by Simon Reynolds describing the use of electronic music as a soundtrack for abstract cinema.

• At the BFI: Anton Bitel selects 10 great Brazilian horror films.

• There’s more intermediate eyeball fodder at Unquiet Things.

Your Name in Landsat

FruitierThanThou

Disco Inferno (1976) by The Trammps | Inferno (Main Title Theme) (1980) by Keith Emerson | Om Riff From The Cosmic Inferno (2005) by IAO Chant From The Cosmic Inferno

Weekend links 826

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Hexa (1971) by Victor Vasarely.

• New music of the week is Tape 05, three minutes from Boards Of Canada following their thirteen-year silence, which was released on Thursday after several days of the group and their record label teasing a comeback with mysterious VHS cassettes and cryptic posters. I’ve been listening to the Sandison brothers’ discography for most of the week while trying to get a major illustration commission finished; this revelation has been the icing on a deteriorated, over-processed cake. I’m now looking forward to whatever emerges next.

The Long London Uncovered: Alan Moore (again) and Iain Sinclair (again) in conversation. Alan’s second novel in the Long London cycle, I Hear A New World, will be published next month.

• RIP Chris Mullen. Not a name that most will recognise but Mullen’s sprawling website, The Visual Telling of Stories, has been linked here on many occasions. A remarkable resource.

• More new music: Boots On The Ground by Massive Attack, Tom Waits; Angel Lost by Luca Formentini; Phaser For The Ocean, Chorus For The Moon by Hatchback.

• Coming soon from Strange Attractor: Sensual Laboratories, Light Shows, Experimental, Film and Psychedelic Art by Sophia Satchell-Baeza.

• At Public Domain Review: “A beautiful purplish hue”: Frank Dudley Beane’s experience with ergot and Cannabis Indica (1884).

• Mixes of the week: An Invisible Jukebox mix for Irmin Schmidt at The Wire; and DreamScenes – April 2026 at Ambientblog.

• At The Quietus: Greg Anderson and Stephen O’Malley of Sunn O))) discuss their love of hiking.

• At Film Quarterly: Elinor Dolliver on the surprising folklore of analogue horror.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Gilway Paradox.

• The Strange World of…Spacemen 3.

Tape Kebab (1974) by Can | The Attic Tapes (1975/6) by Cabaret Voltaire | The Black Mill Video Tape (2012) by Pye Corner Audio

Weekend links 825

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Hexagon Sequence II (c. 1970) by Rosalie de Meric.

• Boards Of Canada obsessives have been in a frenzy this week following the appearance of mysterious VHS cassettes sent at random to a small number of users of the Warp Records mail-order service. The contents of the tapes look like this. With the group having been silent for the past thirteen years there’s been an understandable flood of wild speculation on the BOC Reddit page, the supposition being that the tapes (and now an equally cryptic set of posters) mean that a new record release is on the way. We’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, here’s DJ Food’s O Is For Orange 2025 (version 3), a Boards Of Canada-themed mix that I neglected to link to last year.

• “There is no artistic process that isn’t magical in that it’s an attempt to magically conjure an idea, something that is invisible and intangible, into material form…” Alan Moore (again) talking to Dominique Musorrafiti about art and magic. Also the comics business, which people really ought to stop asking him about when his reluctance to discuss his old work is so evident.

• “I’m not a commercial director—I’m not even a professional film-maker.” Jim Jarmusch talking to Amy Raphael about his career and his latest film, Father Mother Sister Brother. At Little White Lies, Claire Biddle examines the music in Jarmusch’s films and his collaborative albums.

• “Painting and sculpture influenced me greatly. You start to see the world, the outside, everything around you, the tone, with the eyes of seeing a picture that’s framed.” Irmin Schmidt talking to Adelle Stripe about his early life and Requiem, his new album.

• New music: All Clouds Bring Not Rain by Memorials; Afterlife Requiem by Those Who Walk Away; Where Light Pauses In The Silence Of The Sun by Abul Mogard & Rafael Anton Irisarri.

• At Colossal: Daniel Sackheim traverses Los Angeles’ noir side in The City Unseen.

• At Bandcamp Daily: Jim Allen on the sound of the ’70s French Underground.

• At the BFI: Rory Doherty selects 10 great Australian debut features.

NASA Johnson

Hexagon (1990) by Ruins | Octagon (1994) by Basic Channel | Triangles And Rhombuses (1998) by Boards Of Canada

Weekend links 822

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Untitled (2013) by Fred Tomaselli.

• The latest book from A Year In The Country is Ghost Signals: The Shadowlands of British Analogue Television 1968–1995, an exploration of “a shadowland of terrestrial TV hidden in plain sight across the unmediated and unmarketed corners of the internet”.

• New music: After The Rain, Strange Seeds by The Leaf Library; Music For Intersecting Planes by Leila Bordreuil + Kali Malone.

• RIP airbrush artist Philip Castle. Steve Mepstead talked to Castle in 2011 about his work for Stanley Kubrick and others.

Strassman began to see patterns in these encounters and created a typology: aliens; guides and helpers; clowns, jokers and jesters; elves and dwarves; or reptilian or insect-like figures. Variations and outliers notwithstanding, this spectrum remains remarkably consistent with DMT studies today. Strassman also looked into the historical literature and found similar descriptions as far back as Szára, who wrote that one of his subjects reported meeting “dwarfs or something.” Forty years later and a continent away, one of Strassman’s participants put it succinctly: “That was real strange. There were a lot of elves.”

A long read by Joanna Steinhardt on the history and nature of hallucinated spirit guides and “self-transforming machine elves”

• Jet Propulsion Laboratory: Ben Cardew on the pivotal role of Stereolab’s Super-Electric.

• At Colossal: Pejac transforms basic graph paper into detailed, trompe-l’œil tableaux.

Sixty finalists from the 23rd Annual Smithsonian Magazine Photo Contest.

• At BLDGBLOG: The landscape architecture of auroras on demand.

• Mix of the week: Float V mix by DJ Food.

We Have Always Been Here (1995) by ELpH vs Coil | 5-Methoxy-N,N-Dimethyl- (5-MeO-DMT) (1998) by Time Machines/Coil | Machine Elves (2024) by Polypores

Chess players

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Chess Problem 25 (13th century), from El Libro de los Juegos.

Chess-playing in art. Some of it, anyway. I hadn’t realised until I went searching for examples how many paintings there are of people playing chess. The prompt for this was my current reading, The Flanders Panel, a novel from 1990 by the Spanish author Arturo Pérez-Reverte. Arturo likes his art mysteries, as you’ll know if you’ve read The Club Dumas, an excellent novel that was reworked for cinema as The Ninth Gate. The chess game in The Flanders Panel is the subject of a painting by a fictional Flemish artist, Pieter Van Huys. Pérez-Reverte presents a biography of the artist and the three people depicted in the painting, with special attention given to the game of chess which gives the painting its title, a game which may or may not provide clues to a 15th-century murder mystery. Pérez-Reverte describes the painting itself in detail; Julia, the main character is a picture restorer so the descriptions extend to physical materials. Some of the novel’s cover designs have attempted to depict Van Huys’s picture, with unsuccessful results. There’s also a 1994 film adaptation, Uncovered, which I haven’t yet seen.

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The Chess Player (no date) by Isidor Kaufmann.

I’ll admit to not having thought very much about chess-playing in art until the conversation in the novel turned to the subject of the painted game, and the question of whether or not the position of the pieces had anything to say about the people in the picture. (Pérez-Reverte helpfully includes a diagram that shows the layout of the board.) There’s no reason why a game of chess shouldn’t be used for semiotic reasons even if this is only to indicate the power relationship within a picture by making one party the dominant player. Given the ease with which this can be done I’d guess there are many such examples that use the game to communicate something about the players beyond the fact that they enjoy playing chess. If you’re painting a chess game you’re always going to be faced with the question of how you position the pieces, a problem that leads in turn to decisions about who should be shown to be winning or losing via the number of pieces and their placement on the board. Western art is replete with pictorial symbolism involving animals, plants, birds, colours, and so on; if the very old and very familiar game of chess is added to the symbolic repertoire then we’re left to decide which paintings are using the game for incidental reasons, and which have something more to communicate.

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An Interesting Problem (no date) by Adolphe-Alexandre Lesrel.

In making a picture selection I’ve looked for paintings that clearly show the position of the pieces on the board, as well as those which depict the game with some accuracy. It becomes apparent when you examine many paintings on this subject that some artists don’t seem too familiar with the details of the game, a common error being the mispositioned board. This could also have a symbolic meaning, of course, but I’ll leave that question for others to explore. As a final note, Marcel Duchamp had a thing for chess.

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Ein schwieriger Zug Öl auf Holz (no date) by Albert Joseph Franke.

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Die Schachspieler (Faust und Mephisto) (1834) by Moritz Retzsch.

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