In academia, practice-based research is common but I had’n realy done it much. My Swedenborg House residency embodied a unique blend of both academic and non-academic experiences; while Swedenborg House is not an academic institution, it functions as a valuable library and archive. Over the past year, I read a lot of Swedenborg, primarily engaging with his texts online rather than at the library itself. Additionally, I explored the intriguing array of slides housed within the archive. My objective was to uncover the elements of Swedenborg’s thought and experience that would resonate with a painter like Loutherbourg, and to translate that understanding into a compelling stage show.

The outcome of this exploration was Into the Sublime. Instead of simply attempting to ‘depict’ Swedenborg’s ideas, I aimed to interpret his probing questions regarding the material world, the afterlife, Heaven and Hell, and his concepts of the Divine. I also contemplated how an alchemist like Loutherbourg might perceive these themes, alongside the broader intellectual currents of the late 18th-century occult revival.

During the 18th century, society was profoundly engaged in inquiries about the nature of Heaven, the Afterlife, and the Divine. Concurrently, this was an era marked by a reevaluation of the distant past. Antiquarians actively explored folk beliefs, ancient monuments, and folklore—what we might refer to as ‘fairy tales.’ This context informs my inclusion of Liane Lang’s photograph of Stanton Moor in Derbyshire, where the Nine Maidens standing stones from the Early Bronze Age are located. Additionally, I integrated Shannon Rakochy’s vision of the Afterlife, the realm of Hekate and Persephone—the dark goddesses—along with themes of folk magic and myth.

For Heaven and Hell I chose two artists from Egypt who have a metaphysical turn. Marwan Elgamal’s Heaven is a place of non-humanity. Beyond human. Beyond the known. Beautiful but remote. because we cannot really imagine Heaven except as a reflection or derivation of what we already know – and it can’t possibly be that. Marwan imagined Heaven as a place where architectural and organic forms combine seamlessly but inseparably. What is living and what is inert? It’s impossible to know.

Nazir’s Hell is the profound chamber of the inner self, where all fears reside. It is a stark, alienating space. Nazir’s black and white ink work, while spare, becomes an overwhelming chaos when collaged together—a mirror that we often hesitate to confront. However, confront it we must; the viewer is compelled to gaze into this reflection.

Glass artist Natasha Redina masterfully encapsulated the final scene of the show: the Divine. We envisioned the Divine as immense and incomprehensible yet inherently kind and nurturing. Her scintillating carved glass artworks shimmer invitingly, glowing in the shifting light. The culmination is an all-seeing eye—the eye of God, or however one chooses to interpret the Divine.

Transforming my book research into art involved selecting the right artists and conceptualizing how to translate their artworks into stage scenography. The journey was marked by challenges, missteps, and struggles, but we’ve emerged with something truly wondrous.

I also tackled the complexity of making the Eidophusikon work. I’ve experienced various iterations, from a large setup requiring five people to operate to a simpler two-scene structure. Robert Poulter’s smaller, more intricate version was managed by him alone. Mine strikes a balance between the two.

While my initial ambition may have been lofty, I rallied an incredible team of trusted friends who brought my vision to life.

Ultimately, although it was my research and residency, the project blossomed into a collaborative effort. I take pride in sharing this interesting and unconventional project with remarkable artists.

The residency outcome is a significant work in progress: a play (Apologia), an Eidophusikon, and an illustrated novel penned by me, illustrated by Anna Chiarini. Stay tuned for more exciting developments!