Meet Rosaleen Norton: Australia's Witch Queen

Rosaleen Norton (1917 - 1979) 

Photo by Ivan for PIX Magazine (21 June 1943)

State Library of New South Wales 

 

 

I. 

 

If I've said it once, I must've said it a thousand times: ultimately, even witches lose their charm [1]. 

 

Nevertheless, I continue to have a soft spot for many of them and was happy - having been pointed in her direction [2] - to read about Rosaleen Norton ...

 

 

II. 

 

Norton was an Australian artist and occultist, known by the tabloids at the time as the Witch of Kings Cross [3], although her friends and fellow coveners called her Thorn (perhaps because she was sharp and to the point, or maybe because she was the kind of prickly character who has a way of constantly getting under the skin of others). 

 

Her paintings, which are exuberant if not terribly assured, often depict various gods and demons; many of whom share her distinctive facial features and seem to have a penchant for illicit sexual acts. Not surprisingly, these works caused a good deal of controversy in Australia during the 1940s and '50s, a period that was characterised by the three Cs: Christianity, Conservatism, and Censorship.

 

The authorities attempted to prosecute Norton for public obscenity on a number of occasions and her works were often removed from exhibitions by the police and any books containing images of the works confiscated [4].

 

As someone whose own work has occasionally got them into trouble with the Google censor-bots [5] and, ironically, the Pagan Federation [6] - as well as a serious reader of D. H. Lawrence, who had 13 of his pictures seized by the filth from an exhibition in 1929 - I naturally sympathise with Miss Norton. 

 

 

III. 

 

Whilst her passport (assuming she had one) said Australia on it, Norton was the child of middle class English parents who had moved to New Zealand, where she was born, in 1917, with a peculiar blue birth mark on her left knee and pointy ears (both signs, she would later insist, that she was a witch by nature and not by choice). 

 

When she was eight-years-old, her family relocated to Sydney, Australia. 

 

By this time, Rosaleen was already an unconventional girl to say the least; she despised most people, including other children and her mother, and, according to her biographer, Nevill Drury, she spent three years sleeping in a tent in the garden, accompanied by several animal familiars, including a large spider [7].

 

Again, it's probably not surprising to discover that she was eventually expelled from the C of E  girls' school that her parents had enrolled her in; her teachers claimed that not only was she disruptive in class, but had a corrupting influence on fellow pupils by, amongst other things, sharing images she had drawn of demons and vampires.       

 

Happily, however, this allowed her to attend a technical college where she could study art under a tutor who recognised her talent and extraordinary character. After leaving art college, aged sixteen, Norton published a number of horror stories in a newspaper who, subsequently, gave her a job as a trainee journalist and illustrator.

 

Unfortunately, her ideas and illustrations were deemed too controversial and she was soon shown the door. Uncertain what to do next, Norton worked several menial jobs in order to supplement her income as an artist's model (and of course during this time she posed for Norman Lindsay, even if she never acquired full siren status). 

 

Norton also began reading books on occultism and comparative religion and her artistic work became increasingly dominated by pagan themes and images, although she once described her paintings as psychic experiments which drew heavily on visions formulated in her own unconscious. Her work, admired by the poet Leon Batt, began to feature in a monthly magazine he edited called Pertinent [8].  

 

 

IV. 

 

During the early '50s, Norton and her toy-boy lover Gavin Greenlees [9], became Kings Cross residents. It was an area of Sydney - as indicated in footnote 3 below - popular with artists, writers, and other avant-garde types (as well as being a notorious red light district). 

 

Here, she felt right at home and she soon associated with many of the Kings Cross characters and several local café owners agreed to display her artworks on their walls. Above the door to the home she shared with Greenlees, was a sign reading: Welcome to the house of ghosts, goblins, werewolves, vampires, witches, wizards and poltergeists. 

 

In other words: Normies keep out!  

 

Again, it's perhaps not surprising that this couple - strange even by the bohemian standards of the area - soon attracted the attention of the police, who were keen to find something they could charge them with; once even arresting Norton and Greenlees for vagrancy.   

 

 

V.  

 

In 1952, Walter Glover - impressed by Norton's artwork and Greenlees's poetry - decided that a book containing examples of both was just what the world needed ... 

 

And so, a high quality limited edition entitled The Art of Rosaleen Norton was published, bound in cloth or, for those who could afford the deluxe edition, red leather. It contained 31 black-and-white reproductions of artworks by Norton (29 of which were full-page or near full-page plates), including her notorious ithyphallic image of the horned demon Fohat (see below) and a number of verses by Greenlees.      

 

The book was immediately banned in New South Wales (on the grounds of obscenity) and its import into the United States forbidden (customs officers were instructed to destroy any copies of the work that they might discover). Glover was charged with producing an obscene publication and Norton was again dragged before the courts and expected to defend and, indeed, justify her artwork. 

 

In the end, a judge decided that only two images were obscene under Australian law - one of which was Fohat - and that they had to be removed from all existing copies. If the case gained a good deal of publicity for Norton, it effectively bankrupted Glover.     

 

 

VI.

 

Is all publicity good publicity? 

 

It's debatable.  

 

And Norton now found herself the regular subject of sensationalist claims in the tabloid press; she was a Satanist who conducted black masses involving vulnerable adolescents; she was a devil worshipper who practiced animal sacrifice; she and her young lover performed unnatural sex acts ... etc. [10]

 

Such was her notoriety, that by the late 1950s people would visit Kings Cross in the hope of spotting a real life witch in the street. Many simply asked for her autograph; others requested she put a spell on someone, which she was happy to do - for a fee. 

 

By the late 1960s, however, the media attention had abated and she was living a more reclusive and private existence (albet still in Kings Cross - and still a worshipper of Pan). 

 

Norton died, from cancer, in 1979 and she is reported to have said words that echo D. H. Lawrence's famous declaration about wishing to die as gamely as he had lived: 'I came into the world bravely; I'll go out bravely.'  

 

Since then, thanks largely to the work of her biographer Nevill Drury and supporters in the worlds of art and film, Norton's fame has spread and she has continued to attract a following amongst those in the know.

 

Rosaleen Norton: Fohat  

The Art of Rosaleen Norton (1952) [11]

  

Notes

 

[1] See the post of this title (18 April 2013): click here. 

 

[2] Thank you Gaelle. 

 

[3] Norton lived much of her later life in the bohemian area of Kings Cross, Sydney; thus the name given her by the press. It was also in Kings Cross where she established her own coven of witches largely devoted to a neopagan worship of Pan, but with a bit of sex magick thrown in for good measure. 

 

[4] An exhibition in 1949 at the University of Melbourne's Rowden White Library, where forty-six of  Norton's paintings were on public display, was raided by the police and they removed four pictures which they deemed obscene. She was charged and her case went to court, but, amazingly, she was found not guilty of any offence and was even awarded compensation from the police department. 

 

[5] See the post entitled 'Torpedo the Ark Versus the Censor-Bots' (1 March 2023); click here. 

 

[6] See the post entitled 'Pagan Magazine Vs the Pagan Federation' (4 August 2024): click here.  

 

[7] See Nevill Drury, Homage to Pan: The Life, Art and Sex-Magic of Rosaleen Norton (Creation Oneiros, 2009), p. 15. See also Drury's entry on Norton in the Australian Dictionary of Biography, Volume 15  (2000), which has been available online since 2006: click here. Much of the information used here in this post is based on Drury's original research.     

      

[8] Batt established Pertinent in July 1940. He encouraged free expression and the magazine frequently included nude studies, although Batt drew the line at what he considered pornography. With limited circulation, it never achieved a wide audience and it ceased publication in May 1947. 

 

[9] Greenlees was a young, relatively successful poet when he met Norton. Having studied numerous authors including Freud, Jung, Lautréamont, and Aleister Crowley, his poetry combined elements of surrealism, psychoanalysis, and occultism. When he became Norton's lover, c. 1950, she was almost thirteen years his senior.  

      Sadly, his story does not end well; from the mid-1950s onwards, Greenlees endured many prolonged admissions to psychiatric hospitals suffering from hallucinations and paranoia (things that were almost certainly made worse by his regular use of drugs including LSD). To her credit, Norton continued to visit him, even after he had attempted to kill her with a knife during a schizophrenic episode when on temporary release in 1964. 

      Greenlees was permanetly discharged from care in 1983, but died, aged 53, in December of that year.

 

[10] To be fair, whilst the first two claims are untrue, she and Greenlees did like a little light BDSM and she wasn't adverse to a spot of lesbianism. Enjoying the opportunity to play a more active role, Norton also had a penchant for pegging male homosexuals. 

 

[11] This demon with a serpentine phallus was one of her most controversial images. Norton claimed that whilst the goat was a symbol of creative energy, the snake was a symbol of eternity. 

 

 

Bonus: to watch the official trailer to Sonia Bible's dramatised documentary The Witch of Kings Cross (Journeyman Pictures, 2020), starring (athlete turned actress) Kate Elizabeth Laxton as Norton, click here.  

 

For a sister post to this one on Our Lady of Babalon, Marjorie Cameron, please click here. 

 

 

Onychophilia: Notes on Two Types of Nail Fetish

I. 

Ninkondi (one of the variant plural forms of nkondi, meaning 'hunter') are fetish objects made by the Kongo people of Central Africa's Congo region. They are intended not merely to offer protection, but to house a powerful spirit that can be enlisted to track down one's enemies, inflicting misfortune or illness upon them.

As can be seen in the above image, a nkondi is usually a carved human figure - though it can sometimes be an animal - with a cavity in the abdomen, into which a medicine man stuffs ingredients thought to have supernatural properties. The figures range in size from small to life-size and are sometimes adorned with feathers.

Nails (or blades) were driven into the figure in order to affirm an oath or curse - or perhaps to activate the spirit within. Controversially, some scholars believe that the native peoples were influenced in this practice by images that Portuguese missionaries carried with them from Europe of Christ nailed to the cross and Saint Sebastian pierced with arrows. 

Fascinating as all this is, I have to confess that when it comes to nail fetishes, I'm more interested in the long, sharp fingernails of beautiful young women, than rusty bits of iron banged into a wooden figure for the purposes of witchcraft ...

II.

Whilst fingernail fetish is often framed and discussed within the wider category of hand partialism, I think that it deserves critical attention in its own right. For the nails are not like any other part of the hand in that they are not composed of living material; they are made, rather, of a tough protective protein called alpha-keratin.

D. H. Lawrence describes his fingernails as "ten little weapons between me and an inanimate universe, they cross the mysterious Rubicon between me alive and things [...] which are not alive, in my own sense".

Thus, I think there's something in the claim that what nail (and hair) fetishists are ultimately aroused by is death; that they are, essentially, soft-core necrophiles.* Having said that, the human nail as a keratin structure (known as an unguis) is closely related to the claws and hooves of other animals, so I suppose one could just as legitimately suggest a zoosexual origin to the love of fingernails.

Whilst some readers will best like fingernails in their natural state - i.e., unvarnished and unadorned - I have to express a preference for added colour; preferably red or black. I know there's a wide variety of other colours and shades available, but they don't excite my interest so much. Nor do I care for overly decorative designs and fancy finishes.

Finally, whilst clearly having something in common, I think that amychophilia is quite disinct from onychophilia; the latter is a love of fingernails as things in themselves; the former a love of the pain they can inflict, when grown long and sharp.

In other words, the amorous subject who desires to be violently scratched is a kind of masochist; whilst an onychophile, in the purest sense, would be more aroused by simply observing the following scene, described in fetishistic detail by Daphne du Maurier:

"The Marquise lay on her chaise-longue on the balcony of the hotel. She wore only a wrapper, and her sleek gold hair, newly set in pins, was bound close to her head in a turquoise bandeau that matched her eyes. Beside her chair stood a little table, and on it were three bottles of nail varnish all of a different shade.
      She had dabbed a touch of colour on to three separate finger-nails, and now she held her hand in front of her to see the effect. No, the varnish on the thumb was too red, too vivid, giving a heated look to her slim olive hand, almost as if a spot of blood had fallen there from a fresh-cut wound.
      In contrast, her fore-finger was a striking pink, and this too seemed to her false, not true to her present mood. It was the elegant rich pink of drawing-rooms, of ball-gowns, of herself standing at some reception, slowly moving to and fro her ostrich feather fan, and in the distance the sound of violins.
      The middle finger was touched with a sheen of silk neither crimson nor vermilion, but somehow softer, subtler; the sheen of a peony in bud, not yet opened to the heat of the day but with the dew of the morning upon it still. [...]
      Yes, that was the colour. She reached for cotton-wool and wiped away the offending varnish from her other finger-nails, and then slowly, carefully, she dipped the little brush into the chosen varnish and, like an artist, worked with swift, deft strokes.
      When she had finished she leant back in her chaise-longue, exhausted, waving her hands before her in the air to let the varnish harden - a strange gesture, like that of a priestess." 


Notes

* There has been at least one recorded case in which an illicit lover derived pleasure from eating the nail trimmings of corpses (necro-onychophagia), thereby lending support to the theory that nail fetishism has a far darker and more ghoulish undercurrent. See R. E. L. Masters and Eduard Lea, Perverse Crimes in History: Evolving concepts of sadism, lust-murder, and necrophilia - from ancient to modern times (Julian Press, 1963). 

D. H. Lawrence, 'Why the Novel Matters', in Study of Thomas Hardy and Other Essays, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 1985), p. 193.

Daphne du Maurier, 'The Little Photographer', in The Birds and Other Stories, (Virago Press, 2004), p. 160.

The photo on the left at the top of the post is of a 19th-century nkondi figure belonging to the Arts of Africa Collection of the Brooklyn Museum, NY. The photo on the right, is an advertising poster for a nail bar, available to buy on eBay: click here.

Witches Versus Trump

News that a coven of American witches, assembled via Facebook and including the singer-songwriter Lana Del Rey among their number, met up outside Trump Tower in New York a couple of nights ago for the purpose of casting a powerful binding spell on the President and his supporters, doesn't really surprise me; for I am well acquainted with the delusional vanity of those who believe they possess magical powers.

Conservative Christian groups have reacted with predictable moral outrage and called for action to be taken against those who have, they say, committed an act of spiritual warfare against not just the current administration, but the United States as One Nation Under God. 

But, really, they needn't worry or get too het up; these ludicrous women don't possess diabolical or supernatural powers; just some old candles, a pack of tarot cards, and a disturbing inability to accept the fact that Hilary lost the election. 

Ultimately, this is more about political denialism than pagan occultism ...

                

Re-Dreaming the Dark (Notes from a Witch's Manifesto)

Witchcraft has traditionally been concerned with the Mysteries and sex has traditionally been regarded as the essence of those Mysteries. But today we know that sex is neither mysterious nor essential. In fact, sex is simply nostalgia. Or, as the poet Dawn Garland once wrote, "sex is crap".

For many older witches, however, sex remains crucial to theory and practice and they insist on ritual nudity and sacred fucking within the Circle (actual and symbolic). They think it brings them closer to the Goddess, but it only betrays their sentimentality and helps reinforce a deeply conservative ideology based upon an untenable dualism.

Witches who believe in the so-called "two principles" and twitter on about sexual polarity and the complimentary opposition between male and female energies deserve to be burned at the stake. They bring shame upon the pagan community. For it isn’t magic that’s founded on such binary thinking, but phallocentric and heterosexist stupidity.

We should be wary therefore of those witches who speak of sex and sexual "difference" as something innate and natural. Such persons whilst often masquerading as radical are often reactionary morons, quick to condemn homosexuality, for example, on the spurious grounds that it negates difference and privileges the same. The belief that homosexuality promotes a narcissistic self-seeking due to a fear of otherness is bullshit.

All fucking is overrated. But fucking between men and women is the most overrated act of all. Even the epiphenomenal baby that might result doesn’t justify the senseless importance given to it (and besides, fucking has nothing to do with fertility). Witches who argue that erotic pleasure without the consummating act of coition is inauthentic or perverse should be beaten with their own broomsticks.

Witchcraft has been mistaken in its self-understanding as a fertility cult and magic has nothing to do with nature; it is both unnatural and supernatural. We need to get over our subservience to vindictive Nature just as we might get over any other impediment to our future evolution. Witchcraft needs to understand itself as an art concerned with creation, not procreation and as something rooted within culture, not nature.

Witchcraft is performative. It is a practice: likewise our sexuality and gender identities. We play at being men and women and to this extent we are all transvestites. There’s no reason why male bodies should exclusively give rise to masculinity; or why female bodies should exclusively give rise to femininity. Feminists have been saying this for years, but it has been ignored by those who like things fixed and to take themselves seriously; by those whose pride is in rigidity: patriarchal pricks.

If witches are to become free-thinkers and free-spirits, then we need to abandon essentialism and fundamentalism and interrogate those violent hierarchies that demean and disempower those who fail to belong to its dominant categories (such as white, male, and straight, for example). We need to desire differently and stop kissing the arse of those in power (the only truly obscene kiss).

This is not a call for a sexual revolution, however, and should not be mistaken for such. The despotic agency of sex has had its day and we look forward to a time when we can at last talk about, think about, and do something more enjoyable. The orgy is coming to an end and we await the masked ball and that different economy of bodies and their pleasures.

There are no male witches.

W.I.T.C.H.

In his reading of The Scarlet Letter Lawrence offers an interesting theory of how women like Hester Prynne become witches and fall into a state of moral and sexual corruption, or what religious people call sin.

According to Lawrence, when the female soul "recoils from its creative union with man", it becomes possessed by malevolent forces and starts to exert an invisible and insidious influence in the world. The woman herself may remain "as nice as milk" in her daily life and continue to speak only of her love for humanity, but she becomes subtly diabolic and sends out "waves of silent destruction" that undermine the spiritual authority of men and their social institutions. 

Thus it is, continues Lawrence, that our forefathers were not altogether fools in their fear of witchcraft and the burning of witches not altogether unjustified.   

 

What do I think of this curious contribution to sexual politics? Not much. It's obviously untenable and hateful in its misogyny. One is reminded of the televangelist Pat Robertson, who also claims that women who desire autonomy and independence are intent on practicing witchcraft, smashing capitalism and becoming lesbians. 

The only difference is that Lawrence recognises that evil is as necessary as goodness and that we ultimately need witchcraft as a power of malevolence in order to destroy "a rotten, false humanity" that wallows in its own idealism and phallocratic stupidity.   

Note: for quotes from DHL see Studies in Classic American Literature, CUP, 2003, pp. 89 and 93.