french engravers

Such theoretical discussions about the magic drugs were supplemented by practical experiments. One such experiment, which served as a comparison between LSD and psilocybin, took place in the spring of 1962. The proper occasion for it presented itself at the home of the Jungers, in the former head forester’s house of Stauffenberg’s Castle in Wilflingen. My friends, the pharmacologist Professor Heribert Konzett and the Islamic scholar Dr. Rudolf Gelpke, also took part in this mushroom symposium.

The old chronicles described how the Aztecs drank chocolatl before they ate teonanacatl. Thus Mrs. Liselotte Junger likewide served us hot chocolate, to set the mood. Then she abandoned the four men to their fate.

We had gathered in a fashionable living room, with a dark wooden ceiling, white tile stove, period furniture, old French engravings on the walls, a gorgeous bouquet of tulips on the table. Ernst Junger wore a long, broad, dark blue striped kaftan-like garment that he had brought from Egypt; Heribert Konzett was resplendent in a brightly embroidered mandarin gown; Rudolf Gelpke and I had put on housecoats. The everyday reality should be laid aside, along with everyday clothing.

Shortly before sundown we took the drug, not the mushrooms, but rather their active principle, 20 mg psilocybin each. That corresponded to some twothirds of the very strong dose that was taken by the curandera Maria Sabina in the form of Psilocybe mushrooms.

After an hour I still noticed no effect, while my companions were already very deeply into the trip. I had come with the hope that in the mushroom inebriation I could manage to allow certain images from euphoric moments of my childhood, which remained in my memory as blissful experiences, to come alive: a meadow covered with chrysanthemums lightly stirred by the early summer wind; the rosebush in the evening light after a rain storm; the blue irises hanging over the vineyard wall. Instead of these bright images from my childhood home, strange scenery emerged, when the mushroom factor finally began to act. Half stupefied, I sank deeper, passed through totally deserted cities with a Mexican type of exotic, yet dead splendor. Terrified, I tried to detain myself on the surface, to concentrate alertly on the outer world, on the surroundings. For a time I succeeded. I then observed Ernst Junger, colossal in the room, pacing back and forth, a powerful, mighty magician. Heribert Konzett in the silky lustrous housecoat seemed to be a dangerous, Chinese clown. Even Rudolf Gelpke appeared sinister to me; long, thin, mysterious.

With the increasing depth of inebriation, everything became yet stranger. I even felt strange to myself. Weird, cold, foolish, deserted, in a dull light, were the places I traversed when I closed my eyes. Emptied of all meaning, the environment also seemed ghostlike to me whenever I opened my eyes and tried to cling to the outer world. The total emptiness threatened to drag me down into absolute nothingness. I remember how I seized Rudolf Gelpke’s arm as he passed by my chair, and held myself to him, in order not to sink into dark nothingness. Fear of death seized me, and illimitable longing to return to the living creation, to the reality of the world of men. After timeless fear I slowly returned to the room . I saw and heard the great magician lecturing uninterruptedly with a clear, loud voice, about Schopenhauer, Kant, Hegel, and speaking about the old Gaa, the beloved little mother. Heribert Konzett and Rudolf Gelpke were already completely on the earth again, while I could only regain my footing with great effort.

For me this entry into the mushroom world had been a test, a confrontation with a dead world and with the void. The experiment had developed differently from what I had expected. Nevertheless, the encounter with the void can also be appraised as a gain. Then the existence of the creation appears so much more wondrous.

Midnight had passed, as we sat together at the table that the mistress of the house had set in the upper story. We celebrated the return with an exquisite repast and with Mozart’s music. The conversation, during which we exchanged our experiences, lasted almost until morning.

—  Albert Hofmann, LSD, my problem child, 1979
10

Charles Le Brun (1619–1690, France)

A series of lithographic drawings illustrative of the relation between the human physiognomy and that of the brute creation

Le Brun was a French painter and art theorist. Declared by Louis XIV “the greatest French artist of all time”, he was a dominant figure in 17th century French art and much influenced by Nicolas Poussin.

The goal of physiognomy is to judge character according to features of the face. Le Brun studied the lines linking different points of the head in a complex geometry which revealed the faculties of the spirit or character. Thus, the angle formed by the axis of the eyes and the eyebrows could lead to various conclusions, depending upon whether or not this angle rose toward the forehead to join the soul or descented toward the nose and mouth, which were considered to be animal features.

Mars and Venus costume ball invitation.  Engraving by Ducourtioux, based on the artwork of Job, (Onfroy de Breville, Jacques Marie Gaston).  Included in the book, Les Menus & Programmes Illustres, by Leon Maillard, 1898.

Frédéric, duc d'Urbain
Jean Nicolas Laugier (French; 1785–1875) after Raphael (Italian; 1483–1520)
1841
Etching and engraving on chine collé
Published: A. Hauser (Boulevard des Italiens 11, Paris)
The British Museum, London | © The Trustees of the British Museum

Detail from Raphael’s The School of Athens; assumed portrait (in reverse) of Francesco Maria della Rovere, Duke of Urbino, sometimes identified as Hypatia of Alexandria.

white orchid [ newt scamander x reader ]

requested by: anon

prompt: [very long so i’m giving the shortened version] newt falls in love with a no-maj that is forced to forget about him and magic, but there’s an evil wizard that seeks to destroy all no-maj’s that were forced to forget about the magical world. and so it is up to newt to save the reader.

chapters: 2. 3.

warnings: angst, fluff, minor violence

words: 939

a/n; pardon if i am not quite on par yet…it has been a busy time in my life. i was afraid i had lost my ability to write. i hope i did not.

MASTERLIST KO-FI.

Originally posted by blueskyandpudding

 1. the first goodbye is always the saddest


With a hot shuddering breath you hugged yourself, fingers coming to grasp the edges of Newton’s coat – had had given it to you so you wouldn’t get cold – as you blankly stared into the clouded sky of New York city. His lovely scent engulfed you and gulping down a bitter taste you glanced away from the rain before you started to cry. Jacob stood by the edge of the entrance, watching wistfully as Queenie struggled to hold back the fireworks. Tina, behind you, stared into the crumbled flooring whilst Newt himself stood close beside.

Newt Scamander examined your face carefully, fixated by your very essence as salty tears started to pile up behind his eyelid, making the contours of your figure blur every now and then. He wanted to touch you. To feel the flock of curled hair wrap around his finger, to caress the rose petals of your trembling lips, to pull you into a tight embrace and not dare let go. He couldn’t, however, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away either. Over such a short period of time – barely two days ! – the two of you had grown so fond of one another that it was almost sinful to admit. The dashing grin that belonged to him now bloomed on your lips, and the graceful mannerisms of the French were now engraved into him forever. Time seemed to slow; the buzz of the city droned like background music as he, caged in his own mind, tried to move his body and do something before you’d make the first step into fading away for eternity. But he couldn’t move. His heart ached and his bones locked from anxiety.  And so in silence he spiralled down a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as all he could do was memorize each and every detail of your beautiful face.

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