MediaLab

The practice of gibbeting, also known more specifically as hanging in irons, or hanging in chains, was a particularly macabre punishment for a variety of convicted felons, and yet it is the image of the pirate cadaver swinging eerily in the breeze, which appears to have become most engrained in popular culture since the eighteenth century.
Read the full article at: http://porttowns.port.ac.uk/dead-men-telling-tales/

This article explores the role played by Graylingwell Hospital in Chichester during the First World War. It will focus on staff members, both those who served abroad, and those who continued to care for patients at the Hospital as the war progressed. In particular, it seeks to present details about the Graylingwell attendants who lost their lives in service, and who are remembered on the Graylingwell Chapel Memorial Windows.

Published at https://chichesterinthegreatwar.com/commemoration/

On 21st September, 1874, after hearing the cries of the ‘Seven Whistlers’ miners employed at collieries in Bedworth, North Warwickshire refused to descend into the coal pits. These “rushing, soughing” sounds had been heard in the vicinity the night before, and the miners, fearing them as an omen of impending disaster, chose to strike. (1) The story gained traction, enjoying largely regional but also national interest in the press. Reports frequently used the supernatural, folklore-related elements of the strike in order to make derisive comments about the ‘superstitious’ beliefs of colliers, and the purported nefarious character of the working-class in general. (2) This article examines folklore surrounding the Seven Whistlers, exploring the phenomenon’s many physical and narrative mutations. Within the context of the events at Bedworth, it takes a look at how the Whistlers functioned as a tool for miners to express concerns about the hazardous nature of their work, in turn affecting how they were perceived by those outside their community. - See more at: http://folklorethursday.com/halloween/ghosts-angels-death-omens-seven-whistlers-mining-folklore/#sthash.Rl5y2J1s.dpuf

Concerning myself primarily with historical monsters, in my daily research I encounter domesticated goblins, demons with savour-faire, seductive fairy queens, and spirits which haunt the depths of mine shafts. What interests me most are the spaces which such monsters occupy or are associated with. By spaces, I mean the lairs of monsters, or the environments they exist within, which in many ways influence and enable their monstrous identities. Mines as liminal, underground cities of labour are a prime example of monstrous spaces with their own brand of folklore. They have been depicted as dark, damp, hellish, treacherous holes in the earth where noxious gases billowed to confound miners, and which were blamed for ghostly sightings as a result. Sounds are amplified too, and made to seem otherworldy: Victorian miners talked of experiencing ‘knockers’, mining spirits which made taps underground, sometimes helpful, sometimes malicious.[10] Within the context of the Supernatural Cities project, I am interested in muddling the distinction between urban and rural folklore, questioning what makes a monstrous space particularly one or the other. I recently gave a paper at the Urban Weird conference exploring this overlap, examining the urban-rural cross-overs in nineteenth-century newspaper and pamphlet stories of arson and arsonists as demons.

Read the full article at Superntural Cities.co.uk

A cacophony of monstrous voices vied for the attentions of the nineteenth-century reader. Some of these monstrosities were understood to be wholly fictional; macabre characters who peopled works of literature, or short, serial stories published in periodicals. Figures such as Frankenstein’s creature, Bram Stoker’s Count Dracula, and Sweeney Todd the demon barber from ‘The String of Pearls’ – now known for their literary celebrity – existed alongside more anonymous and ephemeral characters, such as the multitudinous depictions of fairies in newspapers during the period. Beyond these overtly fictional characters lurked stereotypes which hovered awkwardly between the realms of tangible reality and horrific fantasy. Here, one finds the monstrous economy, a network of ideas and identities which underpinned middle-class caricatures of working people, drawing inspiration from Gothic fiction, fairy tales and pre-extant folklore narratives together. These became ghoulish vignettes of the working class in action, whether depicting arsonists as demons, comparing domestic servants to goblins, miners to the living dead, or sailors to cannibals. Analysis of this monstrous economy exposes a desire to deflect implications of middle-class guilt and culpability in the sufferings and grievances of the working class. Studies of literary monstrosity are prolific. This thesis diverges from these familiar paths in probing the diverse and underexplored pantheon of monstrosity found in newspaper and government reports, and in printed ephemera. It presents an innovative and original argument for the creation and exchange of such stories as a diffuse network of ‘othering’ increasingly drawn upon by authors throughout the century. This thesis uses five case studies in order to reveal the workings of the monstrous economy: monstrous environments; diabolical identities; fairy forms; mining monstrosities, and cannibal contagions. Exploration of these monstrous archetypes, as vehicles for the mitigation of guilt, advances understandings of the history of monstrosity, class, and space, and of the complex interplay between these identities during the nineteenth century.

Working under the nom de plume of Dr. Lighthouse (aka Roy Hanney) the researcher devised a video performance in collaboration with Writer Eilis Philips which was projected onto the walls of Southsea Castle as part of the event. The researcher also devised other audio visual material for exhibition at the event.Staged as part of Portsmouth Darkfest 2018, ‘Cure or be Cured’ was an evening of spoken word, film projections and immersive theatre all inspired by the iconic Plague Doctors who tried to cure sufferers of the Black Death in the 14th Century. The Front Room presented a programme of ‘healing rituals’ in the atmospheric setting of Southsea Castle. The audience were invited to find sanctuary in the courtyard from the ‘plague’ and all other horrors that lurk in the night