#IronAge of Artistic Barbarity
An age of sword, an age of shield. Here come the horde and we shall not yield.
“Our hard hands clutch your golden cups, our rough feet crush your flowers. We stable our horses in your halls and all your wealth is ours.” - Song of the Naked Lands by Robert E Howard
For decades we stared up in spite at the ivory towers of corporate publishing as they became more corrupt and inept.
We wallowed in disdain for the undeserved inheritors of our beloved art traditions who entrenched themselves upon our heroes' thrones.
We cursed among ourselves about the institutions that stand on the shoulders of our honored literary forebears while they incessantly mock the very legacies that full their coffers.
But the virtuous sons of the literary lineage have been pushed too far. Too many times have we watched them laugh as they twisted our fables into grotesque blasphemies. Depicting authentic cultural icons as tranny sodomites and reducing their worlds to mixmeat vessels for their bourgeois hedonism.
Over and over our rightful disgust met with “teehee make your own.” Now we have. We've picked up the hammer and struck it against the black iron anvil. And when those few little sparks kicked up to twinkle before our eyes in the darkness, it was in that moment that we realized our strength.
In Razorfist's recent video titled “Become the culture” he coined a wildly appropriate title for this coming epoch. I'm unsure if even he realizes the implications of this moniker. Because declaring this the #IronAge has deep mythopoetic meaning.
In ancient Germanic and Indo-European eschatology, time is viewed as cyclical or even helixical. And this can be divided into ages that correlate with the lifecycle of civilization, the earth and reality itself. There is a birth, a rise, an apex, a decline and then a destruction from which it starts anew.
As the process carries through the cosmic oceans of time and fate, many macro and micro levels of these cycles all turn at different speeds like the dozens of cogs within a grandfather clock. There are cycles within cycles within cycles. And once in awhile, by fate's design, these cycles align to create a synchronicity of magnificent beauty or untold calamity, oftentimes both.
The first age is the Ur age or the primordial age. In the Edda this is where the great yawning being Ymir drank of Audumla's nourishing milk. From his body Oðin and his brothers build the earthly realm. The oceans fill with his blood and the starry sky from his skull.
In civilizational terms, this is the many thousands of years where man was primitive. We hunted primeval beasts with spears of flint and stone.
One could point to the first heroic ballads and epic poems like the Illiad, Beowulf and King Arthur as the progenitors of pulp and adventurous storytelling. What difference is there between Conan and Odysseus? Beowulf and Aragorn? Or the world serpent Jormungandr and the great slumbering Cthulhu? These are tale archetypes of the running mythopoetica that flow all the way back into the mists of unwritten history.
I completely reject the smarmy modernist litcrit midwits and their disregard for the tradition of imaginative and heroic storytelling. It's not just boyish fantasy. What we do is draw ancestral memories echoed within the swirling depths of our folksoul and retell it in the parlance of the era which we were thrown. It is a tradition in our blood that can't be separated from us as long as we draw breath.
Burn every book, erase the knowledge and place one of our descendants on a desert island. With no previous knowing he will conjure tales of warriors, terrible monsters and strange far-flung realms. It's who we are and those who seek to demean it do so out of agenda and jealousy.
Next is the Golden age. A time of expanse and conquest. The first golden age was our Indo-European ancestors who set forth from the steppe by chariot to plunder all of the known world and plant their conquering seed in every warm womb. Warrior priest-kings in horned gold helmets taking war brides and treasure to bring glory to their clan and Gods.
This big bang can be interpreted as the era of pulp fiction. An utter explosion of innovation and imagination across entire continents. Despite what institutional toads have taught you, this was the most successful and widespread cultural literary era of all time. Everything good in pop culture today was influenced by pulp. Every trope, motif and device was either invented or popularized during the pulp era. It is the greatest time in writing history. Period.
After the expansion of the golden age follows the silver and copper ages. This is where most has been explored, foundations are built and nomadic warrior societies becomes agrarian. Agriculture replaces raiding and warfare as the most efficient and safest way of procuring food and resources. Laws and norms begin to take shape and the days of high adventure begin to become labor and toil.
Thus comes the time of comic books and mass production paperbacks. While not as prolific or visionary as the pulp era, the silver age built off of what was previously established. While previous epochs were Odinic in nature, the subsequent eras are Tyrrhic in operation (visit imperiumpress.org for article on Odinic vs Tyrrhic dialectics).
The technology became more advanced thus creating more polished mediums. Better construction and appearance on books ushered in more illustrative storytelling which was now having to compete with film and radio. As economic conditions increase during these times, people have more disposable income thus desiring higher quality mediums. While not as vibrant, the art of this era still maintained much of the imaginative weirdness and sensationalism of pulp.
Next is the bronze age. The time empires solidify themselves as the keepers of order. Laws are codified and industry reaches its peak. In the beginning these ruling bodies afford their populaces quality of life never seen before. In the lap of a smiling land society breeds high art. Great statues, architecture and symphonies. Grandiose displays of power and wealth. However, the more sophisticated a machine, the more that must be maintained.
Over time these societies become decadent and degenerate. They lose the fervor of their forebears and tolerate more vacuous and sinful behavior. They lose their innate love for themselves and allow in revolutionary ideas, predatory strangers and abandon the traditions that made them great. Great men rise to stop it but inevitably fail. When a Caesar reveals himself it's like the thermometer on a turkey. Once it pops up, it's already done on the inside.
For us this is the age where great works like Frank Herbert's Dune and Gibson's Neuromancer came out. The culmination of pulp brilliance in singular standout works. John Carpenter movies, Spaghetti Westerns, The Godfather and all the Arnold badassery. Heavy Metal music, animated masterpieces like Fire and Ice, Tales from the Crypt comics and Gygax's first renditions of Dungeons and Dragons. From this period we get Doom, Final Fantasy and countless other exemplary videogames.
Some reading this may be raising an eyebrow because I'm putting D&D, Pantera and Total Recall in league with Wagner, Shakespeare and DiVinci. While the masterpieces of the ancient world were magnificent, so are the creations of our time. The first time I heard Black Sabbath was life-changing for me. The first time I adventured into the world of Greyhawk opened a whole world of imagination. And the first time I watched The Thing it showed me terror that I never felt before.
John Carpenter, Gary Gygax and Tony Iommi are my Wagner, Shakespeare and DiVinci. In the time that I live they were the ones to instill in me the ancient archetypes of fear, wonder and heroism. They set me a sail into the imaginal reaches of the dreamsea. They ladled the mythopoetic mead of inspiration from the holy ancestral kettle into my empty cup.
These are the torchbearers of our primordial artforms. So yes, we have a fucking right to be outraged about homosexual black dwarves and gender swapped bossbitch protagonists. Because you've slithered your way into seats of power only so you could destroy what we love for profit and agenda.
You stewards of evil sit in the shadow of giants whom you couldn't fill the shoes of. You've gotten fat and soft sitting the halls they built. Feasting in opulence using the coin from their deeds. You scorn the men who have given you everything and displaced their sons.
You sung beneath the locust tree, forgetful of hunger and hate. “It has always been, it will always be.” Even then we were at your gate.
The #IronAge is nigh. The era where Rome falls and the marauding hordes claim vengeance upon their nemesis. The new stewards of the civilization are too stupid, too gluttonous, too slothful and too ugly to maintain its glory. Walls crumble, towers fall and the strong sweep through like blood drunk wolves to fill their growling bellies.
In Razorfist's video he makes mention of how #IronAge art will be a bit raw and unpolished. But this is what gives it character. The minor errors in our books, the campy effects in our films and the imperfect recording quality of our music. All proof that it isn't some plastic corporate cash grab but the work of loving homegrown hands. Mastery is always good but in an age of corporate McBrands™ cranking out meaningless polished filth, what matters is something we have in great abundance.
Authenticity, passion and heart.
I started The Bizarchives with $200 in stimulus money after I lost my job. We've now sold thousands of copies in over a dozen countries in our first year.
Guys with even bigger platforms than mine have made even bigger waves. Razorfist, Eric July, Zero HP Lovecraft, Conan Esq and many more.
All of whom without any permission from the vampires who run the publishing companies. We have the talent, we have the numbers and we have will to not just create viable alternatives to the degenerate propaganda brands but to crush them beneath our sandaled feet.
Fall to your knees and grovel for forgiveness now, corpocucks. For the barbarians are at the gates. And there's nothing you can do to stop us.
IRON AGE HAS COME