





Nearly forgotten but glorious art, envisionings and historical oddments from the back corners of the internet






effervescing in air on the growl of an ancient wolf as she creeps out on silent feet from her lair somewhere in the very north of Scotland . . . a paw here and a paw there . . . crofters in their cottages to creep up on under a harvest moon and creatures to stalk down by the sea . . . where next with a wraith in raven form to lead the way . . . who can tell . . . better to try to hide . . . if you can
my series post for today published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to see it. The image is by @thevisualdome on Instagram https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/very-eerie-pre-halloween-art-for-9c1

smashing into a muddy field in western Pennsylvania with my fellow Franklin and Marshall College alumnus, Mark Rothenberg, who was on that plane. And now to the art.
my series post for today published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to see it-
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/very-eerie-pre-halloween-art-for-c1c

Unique Tannery Pearson Mini Beast. Sculpture. 2014. American. Haas Brothers creator. via news.artnet.com.












sparkling on air as deep in a botanical garden somewhere in the West something comes to life and reaches up . . . a foot one day and two the next . . . through the greenhouse roof and rising up . . . flowers jumping out up and down the trunk and tendrils that reach out and grab . . . roots like iron and impossible to chop . . . too bad the explorer didn’t leave it where he found it on that remote isle where it was . . . wanting to stay it must have and better had it not been disturbed.
my series post for today published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to see them all.
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/very-eerie-pre-halloween-art-for-0b9

The Soul Hovering over the Body, illustration for an 1808 edition of Robert Blair’s The Grave. 1808. British. William Blake, illustrator (1857-1827). via amazon.com.
Oh to be here.
Nearly lunchtime and everyone waiting on the terrace for the maitre’d to toot his horn. A sort of maitre’d anyway. Hard to know, what with a childhood spent living at the Plaza with a dining staff that stretched in a line all the way from the kitchen doors to the Palm Court, but ending up in a senior lady apartment with meals with white tablecloths, everything cut up into tiny bits so you can eat it all, no matter how few teeth you have left. Getting the occasional BLT smuggled in and meeting the delivery boy by the parking lot, but not every day, just the ones when only one cane is needed so one has a free hand for a paper bag stuffed with potato chips.
my new short fiction piece published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to read the rest. It has two images with it, this one being in the collections of the Boston Public Library
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/an-envisioning-1998-and-late-june

winking on air as in a cornfield somewhere in Kansas the maze grabs another tourist . . . stalks that reach out and snatch . . . first someone’s poodle that ran ahead with the leash left writhing like a fallen snake . . . then a child and then who knows . . . a good day to go pumpkin picking at the pumpkin patch and all that but no . . . wanting to be home for popcorn and Netflix with everyone on the sofa and that not to be . . .
my fall series post for today published to my Substack at the link. The image is in the collections of the Cooper Hewitt in New York.
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/very-eerie-pre-halloween-art-for-837










Oh to be here.
A seat out on the balcony, looking out towards the lake. Not a new bench you put together today and sit on tomorrow people. No, Grandmama’s settee, the one made out of twigs with the bark still on that matches the rail on the front porch. Very fashionable, the tree-trunk trend must have been, with the boathouses decked out in twigs and branches too, and the Virgin Mary behind the altar at the church with her own bark-covered oval frame to peek out of.
my new envisioning/short fiction piece posted to my Substack at the link. the image is from the 1920s.
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/an-envisioning-1968-the-golden-hour

whispering on air as in the putrid miasma of a broken into mausoleum in the abandoned cemetery down the lane the crows caw . . . cawing for whoever is buried there and forgotten . . . cawing for a past that is gone and a future no one wants at least not if they knew what was to come . . . maybe it can be changed around yet . . . maybe not . . .
my fall series post published to my Substack at the link if you’d like to see it. The image is a ceiling detail at the Royal Holloway Sanatorium, Virginia Water, Surrey, England.
https://sarahbguestperry.substack.com/p/very-eerie-pre-halloween-art-for-c1f
