Carcosa Collection

Gallery 13










The Muse of Madness

Day into night she's with me

How sweet is her warm taste

Safe in the scent of absinthe

I long for her green waist

Mornings I find, she's left me
So cold so alone, but aware
I try to escape, she finds me
Oh run though I may, she's there, there, there, there, there...

La Fee Verte smile is as cold as a stone
She'll bring you things, many things you might never have known
But when enter her realm she'll have the final laugh at you
You’ll be in the Yellow rules where you become His jester fool

Beware of the La Fee Verte
Her sparling green might find you yet
Beware of a love that you will regret
Her love means only your death
(With apologies to STYX)


Verdant Inspiration


The Green Fairy is the English translation of La Fee Verte, the affectionate French nickname given to the celebrated absinthe drink in the nineteenth century. The nickname stuck, and over a century later, "absinthe" and "Green Fairy" continue to be used interchangeably by devotees of the potent green alcohol. Mind you, absinthe earned other nicknames, too: poets and artists were inspired by the "Green Muse"; Aleister Crowley, the British occultist, worshipped the "Green Goddess". But no other nickname stuck as well as the original, and many drinkers of absinthe refer to the green liquor simply as La Fee - the Fairy.


The Green Muse Comes


But Green Fairy isn't just another name for absinthe: she is a metaphorical concept of artistic enlightenment and exploration, of poetic inspiration, of a freer state of mind, of new ideas, of a changing social order. To the ignorant drunk, absinthe will forever remain but potent alcohol, perhaps with a bit of thujone "high" thrown in. To the original bohemians of 1890s Paris, the Fairy was a welcomed symbol of transformation. She was the trusted guide en-route to artistic innovativation; she was the symbol of thirst (for life) to Arthur Rimbaud, the poet. it was the Fairy who guided him -- and his fellow poet and partner Paul Verlaine -- on their quest to escape the conventional reality of their time into the sanctuary of the surreal.


Sinister Whispers


In other words…does this not conjure up the concepts linked to the dread realm of Carcosa? Did one ever notice that with decay, the colour of absinthe turns from a brilliant green to a sickly yellowish colour over time? The play itself, THE KING IN YELLOW, had a number of performances at the end of the 19th century… the time La Fee Verte reigned… and now as Carcosa looms again… have you not noticed she has returned as well? The surreal madness of green mixed with the shades of blue depression… green.


La Petit Mort


ABSINTHE by Ron Dayton

Absinthe, you flow, gleaming bitter Peridot.

Green Fairy seductress, with intoxicating glow.

Sugar cube, slotted spoon, props in an illusion show.

Water droplets sugar soon dissolved, a mystery resolved.

The Magician's identity there concealed, eventually revealed.

Particles like His lies, rise, grey-white precipitate muddling everything.

None could anticipate the presence of the mysterious Yellow King.

Wordsmith of dreams, devious master of promises hollow.

Like Artemisia, poisoner of sheep, one Sheppard not to follow.

Sister of Sheba dances, romances, reveals the bitter truth.

Realities never to be uncovered by a reluctant sleuth.

Geneviève and Boris, two of Trois Mousquetaires,   wait as Alec neared their booth.

Her skin like white marble, luminescent paleness of the moon.

Soothsayer Lily   speaks of consequences to happen soon.

A golden ray of sunlight reflected by the spoon.

As one sips, tongue and lips taste sugar, anise, and quinine.

The first step along the road, marked by the yellow sign.

At the Moulin Rouge quite often, liquers were served upon a coffin.

Just the thing befitting, a monstrous tattered yellow king.

Patrons pay the ultimate price, sanity and soul their sacrifice.

The bells of Notre Dame in silence seem to cower,

When confronted by the dark majesty of his power.

Gay Pare, chaos, mayhem, suicides and insanity.

A yellow snake, like a golden halo drifts above his head.

Everything he touches is soon destroyed, crumbling or dead.

Reading of the forbidden tome releases an abomination.

Its text a mantra of satanic praise and adoration.

Residents of Carcass rewarded with extermination.


The Mind is Not Yours

Transformation has always been the fundamental essence of the Green Fairy, for transformation is what she provides on several parallels. During the magical ritual of La Louche, the drink itself first transforms from the concentrated, alcohol-rich, deep emerald green liquor into an alluring opalescent, cloudy greenish-white mixture. This, of course, is symbolic of the subsequent transformation that shall take place in the drinker's mind. As the cool water liberates the power of wormwood oil and the other herbal ingredients from the green concentrate, so will new ideas, concepts and notions be set free in the mind of the drinker -- be he a poet, an artist, a scientist, or the common man on the street.


The Goddess destroyed

The Green Fairy was a powerful symbol of the avant-garde elite that gathered in Parisian cafes at the turn of the last two centuries. In her company -- or under her influence -- Belle Epoque writers and artists became lucid commentators on an emerging new world – or perhaps were being influenced to bring decadence into our dimension.


The Goddess MurderedBurn the Witch


As a metaphorical creature locked within a bottle of absinthe, similar to the sinister Jinns and other evil entities contained in vessels, the Green Fairy continued to earn her reputation as the artist's muse all over the Continent as well as perhaps the Muse of Madness.

Green Love







Tome Tribute

"They say foul beings of Old Times still lurk in dark forgotten corners of the world, And Gates stll gape to loose, on certain nights, Shapes pent in Hell."

From Unaussprechlichen Kulten

Credits and Copyrights

Carcosa Collection and Website Bruce Ballon © 2010-2015 , Web Design Luke Shield and Bruce Ballon, Art / Graphics / Photos by Steve Lines and Bruce Ballon, music clip by Ennio Morricone

The Book

Thought of the Eon

There is a concept that is the corrupter and destroyer of all others. I speak not of Evil, whose limited empire is that of ethics; I speak of the infinite.

-Jorge Luis Borges