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Grand Guignol

The Théâtre du Grand-Guignol was a theater in the Pigalle district of Paris. From its opening in 1897 until its closing in 1962, it specialized in horror shows. Its name is often used as a general term for graphic, amoral horror entertainment, a genre popular from Elizabethan and Jacobean theater

Oscar Méténier was the Grand Guignol's founder and original director. Under his direction, the theater produced plays about a class of people who were not considered appropriate subjects in other venues: prostitutes, criminals, street urchins and others at the lower end of Paris's social echelon.

Audiences waned in the years following World War II, and the Grand Guignol closed its doors in 1962. Management attributed the closure in part to the fact that the theater's faux horrors had been eclipsed by the actual events of the Holocaust two decades earlier. "We could never equal Buchenwald," said its final director, Charles Nonon. "Before the war, everyone felt that what was happening onstage was impossible. Now we know that these things, and worse, are possible in reality."

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There is no beauty in Music itself, the beauty is within the listener.

- Igor Stravinsky

“The idea of The Rite of Spring came to me while I was still composing Firebird,” Igor Stravinsky recalled, 45 years after the ballet’s first performance in 1913, in his book Conversations. “I had dreamed of a scene of pagan ritual in which a chosen sacrificial virgin danced herself to death.” If Stravinsky is to be believed, this dream marked the beginning of a process that culminated in the premiere of one of the 20th century’s most important musical works.

Stravinsky’s music was meant to capture the spirit of the scenario, which he had outlined with the help of painter and ethnographer Nikolai Roerich and dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine during the spring and summer of 1910. Roerich had filled Stravinsky’s head with tales about all sorts of rituals from ancient Russia – divinations, sacrifices, dances, and so on – involving a variety of characters. The ballet that resulted revolves around the return of spring and the renewal of the earth through the sacrifice of a virgin. In his handwritten version of the story, Stravinsky described The Rite as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring….”

Stravinsky completed the score on 29 March 1913, and exactly two months later, the ballet premiered in Paris at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where it caused the famous scandal that ushered in modern music. Nijinsky’s choreography and the wild, unchecked power of Stravinsky’s score were something wholly new. Stravinsky wrote for one of his largest orchestras ever in The Rite of Spring, and he used it with an assurance and confidence one would hardly expect from a composer just out of his twenties and with only two big successes - The Firebird and Petrushka - behind him.

But those two scores, for all of their individuality and accomplishment, did not seem like they were leading to The Rite of Spring. What Stravinsky did was totally unexpected.

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Natalia Osipova in Giselle at the Royal Opera House, London. Photograph by Alice Pennefather

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Sascha Schneider

Der Astralmensch (The Astral Body),

1903

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Embodied Cognition

Embodied cognition, also known as embodied knowledge, is the idea that certain types of knowledge are inherent in our bodies, allowing us to perform actions without consciously thinking about each step—like throwing a baseball or riding a bike. Our body and mind function as an integrated whole, enabling us to act seamlessly.

When learning a new skill, such as playing the guitar, initial efforts require conscious thought about finger placement and chord structures. However, with enough practice, these actions become automatic and are stored as embodied knowledge. This concept extends beyond practiced skills to include our habits, interactions with the world, and sense of self. Our environment, body, and mind are interconnected, and our sensory experiences profoundly influence our cognitive processes.

Meaning is derived from our interactions with the world. Metaphors grounded in physical experiences—like describing close people as "warm" or significant events as "heavy"—illustrate how our sensory experiences shape our understanding.

How does this understanding of embodied cognition apply to creativity?

Movement can break mental blocks and spark new ideas. Walking, dancing, or simply changing your posture can shift your perspective and inspire new ideas.

Use your hands to manipulate your thoughts. Sculpt, draw, paint, or build—working with physical objects can reveal new insights and stimulate creativity.

Changing tools can produce unexpected results. Try experimenting with a new pen, brush, or medium. Explore different methods of creation to see how they influence your ideas.

Use metaphors grounded in experience. Connect abstract ideas to tangible concepts by drawing on physical sensations or actions. This approach makes complex thoughts more relatable and meaningful.

Let your surroundings inform your creative process. Pay attention to how different environments make you feel and how they inspire you. Experiment with adapting your work to reflect those sensations.

Embrace what you “know in your bones.” Let intuitive, embodied knowledge guide your decisions instead of overthinking every detail.

Creativity isn’t about control. Allow yourself to be messy, to follow where your body leads, and to experiment freely. Feel the rhythm of typing, the stroke of a brush, or the flow of your movement.

Explore how varying your environment or movement can open new pathways of thought. Try taking a walk, shifting your workspace, or experimenting with new tools.

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The Dodleston messages

"a man in the early 1980s, who found that his BBC Micro computer had become a conduit through which he could communicate with a man from the sixteenth century. The latter was mystified by the “box of lights” which had appeared in his house, and accused the computer owner of witchcraft. Gradually, however, as the two carried on their electronic conversations a more trusting relationship developed. The programme concluded by stating that archival research supposedly revealed that the sixteenth-century man had actually existed, and that expert linguists had concluded that the dialect and vocabulary he used was authentic to the period."

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The Hieronymus Machine

The Hieronymus Machine is a radionics device developed by electrical engineer Thomas Galen Hieronymus in the mid-20th century, embodies the intriguing idea that all matter emits a unique form of energy known as "eloptic energy." This energy, a theorized blend of light and electricity, was central to the machine's operation. The original device featured a sample chamber, a glass prism to refract the energy, and a copper wire probe to detect signals. Operators reportedly experienced a tingling sensation when energy was detected, suggesting the human nervous system played a key role in its function.

Although considered pseudo-science, you can think of the Hieronymus Machine as a metaphor for accessing deeper insights or hidden energies in your creative process.

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Her Mother’s Voice (exhibited 1888). Sir William Quiller Orchardson (Scottish, 1832-1910). Oil paint on canvas. Tate.

The widower in the foreground looks up as he thinks for a moment that he hears his late wife’s voice as his daughter, whom he cannot see, begins to sing. The picture was exhibited with lines from Tennyson’s poem Break, break, break: But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand / And the sound of a voice that is still. The poetic quote underscores the painting’s deeply sentimental nature.

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Pierrot

A stock character of pantomime and commedia dell'arte.

His character in contemporary popular culture—in poetry, fiction, and the visual arts, as well as works for the stage, screen, and concert hall—is that of the sad clown, often pining for love of Columbine (who usually breaks his heart and leaves him for Harlequin). Performing unmasked, with a whitened face, he wears a loose white blouse with large buttons and wide white pantaloons.

Pierrot's character developed from that of a buffoon to become an avatar of the disenfranchised. Many cultural movements found him amenable to their respective causes: Decadents turned him into a disillusioned foe of idealism; Symbolists saw him as a lonely fellow-sufferer; Modernists made him into a silent, alienated observer of the mysteries of the human condition. Much of that mythic quality ("I'm Pierrot," said David Bowie: "I'm Everyman") still adheres to the "sad clown" in the postmodern era.

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John William Waterhouse was an English painter who completed a work titled "The Magic Circle" in 1886. He adopted the style of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood(PRB) later in his career although the movement itself became lost toward the end of the century.

The image itself depicts a sorceress drawing a magic circle on the ground to create a ritual space.