© Winter Beaumont 2025     
 
X          Selected Works

L I M E R E N C E - 2024
Saphœðra - 2024
The 1561 Celestial Phenomenon Over Nuremberg - 2023
Pharmaceutical Goetia - 2023

 
All of The Evils of The World, and Hope - 2023
SPINNER WEAVER CUTTER - 2023
Tempestarium - 2023

 
Meredith - 2022
Sympathetic Magic - 2022
The Three of Swords - 2022
Henosis - 2021
Under The Lich Moon - 2021
Summoning The Pooka - 2021
The Threshold of The Third Place - 2021
Shadow Meditation I "Hypersexuality" - 2020
The Alphabet of Whispers - WIP



 
⛧ works   contact   cv   about


π•Ώπ–π–Šπ–Š Altar ov π•Ώπ–π–Šπ–Š Five Thousand Six hundred and Fifty Six Unalived Anjels
2024
Installation/assemblage

Nylon rope, chair, psychiatric medication packaging, ink drawings on medication packaging, antique alarm clock, wax figure, candles, lightbulb, a copy of the Ars Goetia
~100cm x 100cm x 330cm

Exhibited at Wyrding, Chaos Magic, Nottingham 2024


 

5656 people died from suicide in England in 2023 (according to the Office for National Statistics). This strange and morbid altar, constructed in the likeness of one of my own would-be suicide scenes, is dedicated to them— “ π•Ώπ–π–Šπ–Š π•±π–Žπ–›π–Š π•Ώπ–π–”π–šπ–˜π–†π–“π–‰ π•Ύπ–Žπ– π•³π–šπ–“π–‰π–—π–Šπ–‰ 𝖆𝖓𝖉 π•±π–Žπ–‹π–™π–ž π•Ύπ–Žπ– π–€π–“π–†π–‘π–Žπ–›π–Šπ–‰ π•¬π–“π–π–Šπ–‘π–˜ ” [sic], and their explicit sadness. The altar was made by channelling the anguish of my own depression through a shamanic art of imitative magic. The process of the altar’s creation, partly formed from the discarded packaging of my own psychiatric medication, was a ritual of sorcerous evocation through which the spirits of the 5656 were mimicked through my tormented state. They echoed my despair as I echoed theirs. This altar is the vision of an afflicted mind. It is not a tasteful memorial to those we have lost, because suicide is not tasteful. It disturbs and saddens us just as the loss of a loved one does, and it discomforts us because the urgency of the present reality demands our discomfort.




 

WE ARE IN CRISIS




 

π–‚π–†π–π–Š π–šπ–•
π•­π–Š 𝖓𝖔𝖙 π–‡π–Š π–†π–‹π–—π–†π–Žπ–‰
π•Ύπ–π–Žπ–“π–Š π–‡π–—π–Žπ–Œπ–π–™π–‘π–ž.
π•·π–Žπ–˜π–™π–Šπ–“! π•Ώπ–π–Šπ–Š π•¬π–“π–π–Šπ–‘π–˜ π–†π–—π–Š π–˜π–”π–‹π–™π–‘π–ž π–˜π–Žπ–“π–Œπ–Žπ–“π–Œ.