France gave the world the French Revolution in 1789. It was an epochal event, albeit a symptom of a line of cultural decadence that gave birth to both liberalism and Communism, and which remains a pall over the entire West and wherever the West reaches. It is ironic that those who were condemned as “collaborators” in France during and after the Second World War were for years prior to the war the most vociferous in their lamentations regarding the decadence of the French Republic. None lamented more the rapidity with which France had fallen to the Germans; it was regarded as a national dishonor and the result of France’s moral, spiritual, and cultural rot.
Among those who had brought ruin to France, Freemasonry had a prominent role.[1] [2] Rationalism, secularism, scientism, and materialism were used as methods of subversion by occult forces in a struggle between Counter-Tradition and the few remaining vestiges of the Traditional.[2] [3]
In France during the decades leading up to another epochal catastrophe, the First World War, this occult war between Tradition and Counter-Tradition intensified. Since Counter-Tradition makes use of Counterfeit-Tradition, it is often difficult to discern what role sundry secret societies and individuals play in this conflict. For example, what side is Nicholas Roerich on, and what side the apparently “sinister” Aleister Crowley?[3] [4] The answer is not as obvious as one might suppose. At the time, there was an occult revival; a product of a civilization in crisis, and the existential angst of those who could not endure the tedium of scientism, secularism, rationalism, and atheism, which since the time of the French Revolution had been heralded as new religions. In the liberal ideal of the “happiness of the greatest number,” few are happy with the tedium of equality and democracy. While in Britain, William Butler Yeats, Crowley, and sundry other eccentric and intellectual figures were responding to the age of Darwin, industrialism, and science through the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a remarkable individual emerged from the occult revival in France: Joséphin Péladan.
Péladan was the head of the Ordre Kabbalistique Rose-Croix (Kabbalistic Order of the Rosicrucian), succeeding his brother Adrien. While the original Rosicrucians, who had appeared mysteriously in Europe during the early seventeenth century and issued anonymous manifestos, seem to have been among the precursors of the Masonry and Illuminism that fermented the French Revolution against the Church and the Monarch, Péladan, on the contrary, was a Catholic traditionalist who repudiated the ideals of the French Revolution and the “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity” of the Grand Orient of Masonry, stating in 1883, “I believe in the Ideal, Tradition and Hierarchy.”[4] [5]
Interestingly, when a schism occurred within the Order, one of the reasons was that among what was regarded as Péladan’s eccentric behavior was his having issued a public condemnation against a female member of the Rothschild banking dynasty. Among the leaders of the schism were the morphine-addicted Marquis Stanislas de Guaita, an individual who was to display decidedly Satanic convictions,[5] [6] and the conspiratorial figure Papus, who brought Martinist Freemasonry to Russia with decidedly subversive results, culminating in Bolshevism. Under their control, the Ordre Kabbalistique worked the degrees of this Martinist Masonry, which had a linage reaching back to the infamous Illuminati via the Kabbalist, Martinez de Pasqually.
At the time of the schism, Péladan and de Guaita had been involved in “magical warfare” against another sinister character, the apostate priest, the Abbé Boullan, who was the head of a depraved Satanic cult (this description is without sensationalism). However, de Guaita was himself interested in the Left-Hand Path magic of Boullan.
Leaving the Ordre Kabbalistique, Péladan founded the Ordre de la Rose-Croix catholique et esthétique du Temple et du Graal (Order of the Temple and the Graal and of the Catholic Order of the Rose-Croix), the title explicitly explaining the character of this Order.
On March 24, 1893, the Supreme Council of the Ordre Kabbalistique issued a public statement signed by Stanislas de Guaita and Papus, condemning Péladan as a “usurper, schismatic, and apostate,” and denouncing his Ordre de la Rose-Croix catholique. The battle lines between Tradition and Counter-Tradition had been drawn publicly.
Péladan saw the purpose of his Rosicrucian Order as being to encourage the resurgence of the arts that were in decay. A novelist himself, he was a central figure in the Symbolist art movement, and many artists, musicians, and poets of note were initiated into his Order. Péladan considered the artist to be the embodiment of king, priest, and magus; the nexus with the divine. He explained:
Art is man’s effort to realize the Ideal, to form and represent the supreme idea, the Idea par excellence, the abstract idea, and great artists are religious, because to materialize the idea of God, the idea of an angel, the idea of the Virgin Mother, requires an incomparable psychic effort and procedure. Making the invisible visible: that is the true purpose of art and its only reason for existence.[6] [7]
Péladan saw art as the religion that persists above all atheistic efforts to repress the spirit. He called for spiritual battle against the profane:
Artist, you are a priest: Art is the great mystery and, if your effort results in a masterpiece, a ray of divinity will descend as on an altar. Artist, you are a king: Art is the true empire, if your hand draws a perfect line, the cherubim themselves will descend to revel in their reflection . . . They may one day close the Church, but [what about] the Museum? If Notre-Dame is profaned, the Louvre will officiate . . . Humanity, oh citizens, will always go to mass, when the priest will be Bach, Beethoven, Palestrina: one cannot make the sublime organ into an atheist! Brothers in all the arts, I am sounding a battle cry: let us form a holy militia for the salvation of idealism . . . we will build the Temple of Beauty . . . for the artist is a priest, a king, a mage, for art is a mystery, the only true empire, the great miracle.[7] [8]
The Salon de la Rose et Croix was established in 1892 to exhibit Symbolist art to the public. Art was magic, not rituals and incantations. It was intended as the harbinger of a spiritual revolution that would overthrow the materialistic and the decadent, and as the antithesis to the art of the other salons. The first exhibition drew fifty thousand visitors. Clearly, the French yearned for something transcending the crassness of Grand Orient liberalism and secularism, which had rotted France for a century; the “disenchantment of the world,” as he called it. Richard Wagner’s music had a special place, Péladan regarding Wagner as “a therapeutic detoxifier of France’s materialism.” Erik Satie was the Order’s official composer, and Debussy was a close colleague. Péladan defined what was required in his appeal for exhibitors: “The order favors the Catholic Ideal and mysticism. After that, Legends, Myths, Allegory, Dreams, the paraphrasing of great poets, and finally, all lyricism.”
Péladan’s fight for the recovery of Tradition from the corruption of those Black Adepts (to use Crowley’s term) who had engineered the French Revolution – which in a proto-Bolshevik reign of terror destroyed churches, killed priests, and performed a virtual Black Mass on the altar of Notre Dame – was echoed by another famous French occultist, Éliphas Levi, also a Catholic and who was perhaps an initiate into the Rose Cross’ eighteenth degree,[8] [9] where one at last learns the true subversive character of Masonry:
Masonry has not merely been profaned but has served as the veil and pretext of anarchic conspiracies . . . The anarchists have resumed the rule, square and mallet, writing upon them the words Liberty, Equality, Fraternity – Liberty, that is to say, for all the lusts, Equality in degradation and Fraternity in the work of destruction. Such are the men whom the Church has condemned justly and will condemn forever.[9] [10]
August Strindberg, the Swedish novelist, playwright, poet, and painter who turned to the occult during an existential crisis, later returned to Catholicism as a Traditional anchor in a decaying world. Upon visiting Paris, he also noted the decadence there in an autobiographical account in which he indicated his intention of returning to the Church. On reading Péladan, he remarked:
On May 1st I read for the first time in my life Sar Péladan’s Comment on devient un Mage.
Sar Péladan, hitherto unknown to me, overcomes me like a storm, a revelation of the higher man, Nietzsche’s Superman, and with him Catholicism makes its solemn and victorious entry into my life.
Has “He who should come” come already in the person of Sar Péladan? The Poet-Thinker-Prophet – is it he, or do we wait for another?[10] [11]
Péladan’s salon exhibitions were an enormous success. However, by the sixth and final exhibition in 1896, he had become worn out with the very public so-called “War of the Two Roses” between his “Catholic Rose-Cross,” as he called it,[11] [12] and the Martinist-Masonry of the Ordre Kabbalistique. For someone such as Péladan, such psychic conflicts, whatever we may think of their mundane reality, and likely augmented by Papus’ Masonic friends and Rothschild influences in the press, would have taken a heavy toll.
Notes
[1] [13] K. R. Bolton, The Occult and Subversive Movements (London: Black House Press, 2017), pp. 175-189.
[2] [14] Ibid., pp. 9-13.
[3] [15] Ibid., p. 12.
[4] [16] Joséphin Péladan, “L’esthetique au salon de 1883,” L’Artiste, Vol. 1, May 1883, cited in Richard Cavendish (ed.), Encyclopaedia of the Unexplained (New York: Arkana, 1974), p. 216.
[5] [17] Ibid., p. 217.
[6] [18] Péladan, “L’esthetique au salon de 1883.”
[7] [19] Péladan, Catalogue du Salon de la Rose + Croix (Paris: Galerie Durand-Ruel, 1892), pp. 7-11, cited by Sasha Chaitow, “Making the Invisible Visible: Péladan’s Vision of Ensouled Art [20],” August 6, 2015.
[8] [21] This is indicated in a footnote to his History of Magic, where Levi states, “Having attained by our efforts to a grade of knowledge which imposes silence, we regard ourselves as pledged by our convictions even more than by an oath. . . . and we shall in no wise fail to deserve the princely crown of the Rosy Cross . . .” (London: Rider, 1982, p. 286).
[9] [22] Ibid., p. 310.
[10] [23] August Strindberg, The Inferno (New York: Knickerbocker Press, 1913), concluding passages.
[11] [24] Péladan, letter to Papus, February 17, 1891 in L’Initiation (May 8, 1891).
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On a peu vu ces rebellocrates – une espèce qui prolifère de nos jours (ça ne risque rien et ça peut rapporter gros) – en faire autant devant une mosquée ou une synagogue.
Les imposteurs culturels promus par la République attaquent directement cette clé de voûte fondamentale de la culture autochtone. Ils posent une nouvelle culture, culture artificielle et féministe valable pour tous, dans laquelle les rôles sociaux masculins et féminins sont abolis, les pères sont déclassés, les hommes sont stigmatisés, les femmes sont versées dans un monde du travail oppressif leur interdisant de faire des enfants (mieux vaut pour elles « faire une carrière »)... Conséquence logique des nouvelles normes sociales, la démographie européenne périclite, nos libertés se restreignent et l’insécurité, pas seulement culturelle, grandit.
Das war insofern revolutionär, da noch im Barock die Gelehrten und Dichter am Latein festhielten und die römische Antike als Vorbild sahen. Winckelmann kam zugute, dass er, aus einfachsten Verhältnissen kommend, nicht „verbildet“ war, als er die Kunstschätze am barocken Dresdener Hof betrachtete. Statt in schwärmerische Verzückung zu geraten, richtete er einen idealisierenden Blick auf die ihm rätselhaften mythologischen Heldenfiguren, von deren nackten, muskulösen Körpern er sich wohl auch erotisch angezogen fühlte.
Hij overleed al op 15 januari 2017, maar het nieuws raakte pas een paar weken geleden bekend. De 73-jarige man overleed namelijk in absolute eenzaamheid in een ziekenhuis in Brussel. Eind 2016 drong zijn dokter tijdens een routineonderzoek aan op een operatie omdat er een fatale slagaderbreuk dreigde. De operatie in het ziekenhuis was een succes, maar er waren complicaties en er wachtte hem een revalidatieperiode. Uiteindelijk overleed hij aan een longontsteking. Het ziekenhuis lichtte niemand in en hij werd inderhaast begraven in een kist die werd betaald door de gemeenschap.
Evola, afferma Lami: “imposta…il problema filosofico in chiave individuale, o meglio, ‘esistenziale’, e risolve il metodo filosofico nella filosofia, e quest’ultima in una sorta di fenomenologia dell’individuo” . Da tale asserzione si evincono la potenza e l’originalità, nel panorama filosofico d’allora, non solo del momento speculativo evoliano, ma del suo percorso esistenziale. Infatti, l’attraversamento che egli compie dell’attualismo gentiliano, ritenuto vertice insuperato del pensiero europeo, prende le mosse, e qui Lami coglie pienamente nel segno, da Michelstaedter, dalla sua Persuasione. Questa, nell’esegesi lamiana, si configura quale: “…piacevolissima sensazione, quel piacere morale che si persegue nell’atto della liberazione, dell’auto-redenzione dal macchinamento sociale” .
Le 21 juillet 1978, c’est la volubilité de ce garçon d’origine italienne (au patronyme du Frioul et né d’une mère napolitaine), son accent du terroir bruxellois, son sens de la zwanze, sa bonté qui était immédiatement palpable, son incroyable gentillesse, qui m’ont fait dire tout de suite : « Voilà un excellent camarade ! ». J’ai su qu’il habitait Etterbeek mais ne suis jamais allé chez lui : nous nous rencontrions aux hasards de nos pérégrinations en ville : aux abords des bonnes librairies, dans le quartier de la Grand’Place, aux Puces de la Place du Jeu de Balle. « Julius » était immanquablement accompagné de copains et de copines, parfois très hauts en couleurs. Je me souviens ainsi d’une soirée au magnifique hôtel Métropole, suite à une rencontre dans une librairie toute proche qui n’existe plus aujourd’hui. Ces rencontres fortuites et agréables se sont étalées de 1978 à 1981. Mais la vie quotidienne, le déménagement avec mes parents à Wezembeek-Oppem, les études, les séjours à l’étranger (en Allemagne et en Angleterre) puis mon passage dans le cloaque du sinistre de Benoist à Paris et mon service militaire à Marche-en-Famenne m’ont fait perdre « Julius » de vue. En septembre 1983, je réaménage dans le quartier de la ville, qui, auparavant, avait toujours été le mien. Chez le libraire des lieux, surnommé « Jeremy Puddingtam », je tombe quelques années plus tard, en 1986, sur le premier album de la série « Harry Dickson », intitulé La bande de l’araignée. Le dessin me plait, ligne claire oblige. La représentation des véhicules, des bâtiments, des armes et des uniformes est très précise, ce qui fait la qualité d’une bonne bande dessinée depuis les exigences de réalisme d’Hergé et de Jacques Martin. La dernière planche de Coke en stock, album de Tintin que j’ai reçu à l’âge de trois ans et huit mois, m’avait fascinée, enfant, car j’y reconnaissais toutes les voitures qu’on trouvait à l’époque dans les rues de Bruxelles. Dans La bande de l’araignée (BA) et dans sa suite immédiate, Les spectres bourreaux (SB), cette volonté de reproduire avec la plus grande exactitude possible le réel est manifeste : comment ne pas être séduit par le premier dessin de Londres sous la brume, par le laitier anglais et le vendeur de journaux (p. 6), par l’immeuble de Scotland Yard (p. 14), par la voiture noire qui fonce sous un ciel d’automne tourmenté (p. 19), par les avions, par la calendre de la Peugeot (p. 25), par la Bugatti qui prend de l’essence sous la neige des Alpes (p. 30) ? Dans Les spectres bourreaux, album de 1988, le style s’est affirmé : splendides dessins que ce décollage d’appareils SIAI Marchetti (p. 4), que l’émergence hors des flots de l’U47 (p. 9), que les combats de la page 10, que le manoir anglais de la page 15, que l’avion au repos à Croydon (p. 17), que les commandos de marine anglais en fin d’album, etc. « Julius » était capable de donner du mouvement à ses dessins comme l’atteste de manière exemplaire la voiture noire d’Harry Dickson, fonçant à toute allure dans les rues de Londres (SB, p. 14).
Et surprise, après l’achat de ces deux albums, sans m’être rappelé que le prénom et le patronyme de « Julius » étaient Pascal et Zanon, au détour d’une rue de mon quartier, coucou, qui voilà qui déboule, comme le Général Alcazar au début de Coke en stock ? « Julius » ! Avec son intarissable volubilité habituelle, il me raconte ce qu’il est devenu : auteur de bande dessinée ! Le dessinateur d’Harry Dickson ! Son éditeur, Christian Vanderhaeghe, par ailleurs scénariste des albums, possède un hôtel de maître cossu dans le quartier. « Julius » en occupe le « basement » qui lui sert de studio. Il m’emmène dans cette véritable caverne d’Ali Baba. Dans le fond, un matelas sommaire pour ses siestes et pour les soirs où il ratait le dernier tram vers Etterbeek. Des monceaux de livres avec des photos d’époque prises dans les sites que devait visiter le héros Harry Dickson, au fil de ses aventures, pour que tout soit reproduit le plus fidèlement possible. Des livres avec des croquis militaires, des photos de matériels en action. Une maquette de tous les avions reproduits dans les albums. Une miniature de chaque voiture, au moins à l’échelle 1/43ème. Tout cela témoignait, sous mes yeux admiratifs, d’une volonté de pousser encore plus loin le réalisme voulu par Hergé et par Jacques Martin. Ce réalisme apparaît époustouflant dès le troisième album, Les trois cercles de l’épouvante (3CE, 1990), dont l’action se déroule surtout en Chine. « Julius » a été capable de reproduire bâtiments, véhicules, trains, bateaux, de la Chine des années 1930, avec le talent d’un maître avéré. 
Dans la foulée des conversations éparses que nous tenions à intervalles irréguliers, Vanderhaeghe me demande en 1997 de faire traduire en néerlandais L’étrange lueur verte. L’ami MvD s’y attèle. Je lui file un coup de main. Il le fallait bien. Imaginez comment traduire la prose lyrique de Vanderhaeghe : « Les langueurs océanes d’Atlantic City sont brutalement balayées par le rugissement de deux bolides teintés d’or et de sang ». Ou encore : « Dans un grondement de tonnerre, un lingot de métal affilé comme une lame surgit de l’ombre du box voisin ». Pire : « Foudroyée, la Daimler-Benz décolle de sa trajectoire irradiant une étincelante lueur verte ». « Mais telle une météorite traversant l’éther, le bolide argenté plonge irrémédiablement vers l’enfer ! ». « Une coulée d’or embrase les murailles du Nouveau Monde inconscient de la menace qui fond sur lui ». En plus, Max, le complice de Georgette Cuvelier , s’exprime en un argot de truand marseillais, repris des romans policiers de Léo Malet, ancien anarchiste et surréaliste mais néanmoins traité de « xénophobe » à la fin de sa vie. La boucle était bouclée : le « lyrisme » de Vanderhaeghe faisait penser à certaines phrases du Cœur aventureux d’Ernst Jünger ; avec l’argot du surréaliste Malet, on était en plein dans un drôle de bain, on pouvait « numéroter nos abattis ». Le pauvre MvD et le pauvre de moi ont dû mettre cela en néerlandais : les tournures trop flamandes ont déplu aux critiques hollandais ; les tournures hollandaises, injectées à dessein par MvD, ont déplu aux critiques flamands : vieille histoire qui avait déjà cassé la tête de Willy Vandersteen qui, longtemps, avait dû publier deux éditions de ses aventures de Bob et Bobette. Une pour les Pays-Bas, une autre pour la Flandre. « Julius », lui, était heureux : il avait pu, dans L’étrange lueur verte, dessiner de splendides voitures de course, des autos de la police américaine, des Boeing F-48, un char T3, des camions de pompiers new-yorkais et surtout deux appareils futuristes dont l’aile bleue de Georgette Cuvelier qui vaut bien l’aile rouge d’Olrik dans les aventures de Blake et Mortimer. Les dessins illustrant le combat entre l’appareil de Georgette et celui , tout jaune, d’Harry Dickson sont époustouflants. Du bel art.
Anarchico, satirico e assolutamente incompreso, almeno fino al 1929 quando Re Alberto I scelse di nominarlo barone; da quel momento James Ensor, che aveva sempre fomentato critiche asprissime nei confronti della borghesia attraverso i suoi dipinti, decise di ritirare tutte le copie de “L’alimentazione dottrinaria”(1889), un’acquaforte su carta giapponese che rappresenta tutta la malsana pidocchieria dei potenti (il re e i suoi ministri) nell’atto di defecare sui sudditi (la massa) che nel frattempo accolgono l’offesa spalancando le fauci, pronte ad ospitare gli escrementi. Un ritratto ruvidissimo della società belga di fine Ottocento che vedeva sul trono Re Leopoldo II. Ma Ensor – che da socialista umanitario passò a coltivare posizioni di totale anarchismo – aveva ben compreso che gli uomini dovevano venir tutti malmenati a colpi di pennello, eccetto rari casi. Tra questi i possibili superstiti potevano essere gli artisti, ma per raggiungere un siffatto ambiziosissimo traguardo non bastava soltanto impugnare la tavolozza e il pennello, bensì “… essere ribelli alle comunioni! Per essere artisti bisogna vivere nascosti…”; ed è sicuro che Ensor non rinunciò a vivere in solitudine compiendo una crivellatura di tutte le sue frequentazioni, tanto che quando un giornalista francese volle visitarlo nella sua dimora con degli amici parigini, dovette subire nientemeno che un rifiuto da parte del servitore Auguste, fedelissimo al padrone, il quale comunicò ai visitatori l’impossibilità di incontrare il maestro, dicendo loro: “Impossibile, sta facendo i suoi bisogni”. Ensor non era certo uno studente modello, anzi, seguiva solamente la sua indole di pictor, non compresa dall’ambiente casalingo in cui viveva – influenzato da una preponderante presenza femminile – se non dal padre, un ricco borghese di origini inglesi considerato da tutti i cittadini di Ostenda (la città natale dell’artista) come un buonannulla: quest’ultimo finirà infatti corrodendo sé medesimo nell’alcol e favorendo cospicuamente il generale schernimento nei suoi confronti. La madre, invece, gestiva un negozio dove Ensor era solito recarsi fin da giovane per fornire aiuto o anche più semplicemente per acuire la sua sensibilità artistica attraverso l’osservazione degli oggetti in vendita. Malgrado questi vaghi accenni d’affetto, la situazione familiare del pittore restò sempre molto arida e lontana dal concedergli la forza d’animo di prendere le distanze dalla sua parentela. Da ciò emerge anche il rapporto ambivalente di Ensor con le donne: “Ah, la donna e la sua maschera di carne, di carne viva diventata per davvero maschera di cartone…”. Sempre la madre, per altro, non voleva che il figlio dipingesse dei nudi femminili attingendo direttamente da modelli in carne e ossa. Nell’evoluzione pittorica di questo autore si assiste ad una fase iniziale composta da vedute paesaggistiche ispirate all’impressionismo e ritratti realistici, come quello in cui mischia narcisisticamente la sua identità con quella dell’artista fiammingo del periodo barocco Pieter Paul Rubens: otterrà in tal caso un dipinto austero ed enigmatico, ma anche faceto per via del cappello di paglia corredato di fiorellini con differenti cromie (“Ensor con il cappello fiorito” 1883-1888). Giunse poco più tardi il periodo maggiormente produttivo per Ensor, quello collocabile tra il 1885 e il 1895, anni in cui si avvicinò brevemente al gruppo avanguardistico de “I Venti”, che proponeva un’educazione culturale spaziante dalle arti visive, alla musica, alla poesia. Proprio in questo decennio l’utilizzo delle maschere rappresentò la vera svolta dell’arte ensoriana, seppur non di quelle africane che appassioneranno diversi altri artisti nel corso di tutto il Novecento. Di queste ultime ebbe a dire: “Condanno senza remissione la maschera cresciuta male degli inferni d’Africa… Al diavolo i tratti e le attrazioni facili, e il vecchio gioco del feticcio negroide o gorillato”. Venerò piuttosto le maschere capaci di evocare atmosfere carnevalesche come quelle respirabili tutt’oggi al Carnevale di Binche, in Belgio, dove una moltitudine di Gilles compiono la loro sfilata tra le profusioni dionisiache della folla. E infatti lo stesso Ensor scrisse: “Bisogna essere degni dell’Arte di casa nostra, arte sana senza paura né rimproveri. Abbasso i leopardi di contrabbando! Forza ai nostri gilles e ai nostri leoni!”
The ancient Greeks are more than strange beings so far as post-60s “liberal democracy” is concerned. Certainly, the Greeks had that egalitarian and individualist sensitivity that Westerners are so known for.
For a long time, Morris was considered the unofficial leader of the "Movement of Arts and Crafts". His main aim was the convergence of aesthetics and work, overcoming the industrialized impersonal production of the industrial age, that leads to the depersonalization of producer as well as the consumer of such goods, the transformation of work in the aesthetic and even (as it was in pre-Modern age) sacralized process. Morris was familiar with the works of Karl Marx, but he offered to solve problem of alienation, identified by socialist philosopher, by returning to manual labor and re-sacralization of production.
Procédant par touches impressionnistes, par une beauté visuelle, tout autant que sonore, « Les Saisons » se place dans le sillage de l'émerveillement permanent, de l'apologie de la beauté de notre nature. Grâce à une véritable prouesse technique, nous approchons au plus près des habitants de nos forêts, les voyant naître, grandir, mourir... A tel point que nous nous identifions aux cerfs, loups, lynx, ours, renards, sangliers et autres multiples espèces d'oiseaux qui constituent la diversité de notre faune, autant d'animaux qui font le bonheur des lecteurs de « La Salamandre » et de « La Hulotte ». Sans parler de la beauté des éléments (pluie, neige, vent, orage, aurore, crépuscule, nuit, pleine lune, etc.). Le film réussit également à nous montrer l'apparition des hommes au cœur de cette nature par petites touches comme si nous n'étions pas l'élément central de cette nature, mais l'un des hôtes.
He collaborated with an impressive number of nationalist and national-conservative periodicals. EG: Europa Een (1965), Europapost (1966-1970), De Anderen (1967-1968), Alarm (1974-1977), Le Nouvel Europe Magazine (1975-1977), Haro (1977-1978), Austrian Aktuell/Sieg (1978), Vlaams Blok/Inzet (1980-1986 and occasionally), West Magazine (1981-1983), Revolte (1984 and 2010), De Jonge Geus (1985), Forces Nouvelles (1990-1991), Ket (1996-1999), Nation (2000-2001), Polémique (2002-2003), ‘t Pallieterke (2005 and 2006-2009). Since 1998 he collaborated on Belhamel and in 2001 ‘t Scheldt, on the Internet. For all these publications he produced headings, front-pages, comics, cartoons, illustrations, and in some cases he was simultaneously layout man and editor. With Korbo’s agreement a number of his comics was republished in some periodicals abroad such as Italian La Voce della Fogna (1980), German Gäck (1980-1984), Swiss Le rat noir (1980-1984), Austrian Sieg (1978-1988), French Pas de Panique à Bord (1993). His works were arbitrary republished and plagiarized on a massive scale all over Europe and also the USA and South Africa (and this before internet was in common use!).
In 1990 the Glasnost album of 43 pages was published in French, consisting partly of translated comics of West Magazine and partly of new ones, edited by the enigmatic Editions Mystère et Boule de Gomme. In 1995-1996 he collaborated on the French fanzine Bédésup of Marseille where he was making a study about hidden masonic aspects in the collected works of Hergé during the war. It was to become a book, Hèrgé decodé, but the series of articles was interrupted by the death of the publisher of Bédésup, Jean Claude Faur. Meanwhile the material already published about the subject has been copied and plagiarized in a book edited in France in 2010.
