To go to the night sabbath, the witch undresses and rubs an unguent made of a child’s flesh or blood. Then she invokes the devil and she rides a chair or a broomstick – but a regular stick, a pitchfork, a mallet to beat flax, a stool will do, too. Sometimes they fly riding on a female cat, a goat, a dog or a bull. Whoever spies them will see witches disappear into a blue cloud. If, coming back home on the devil’s shoulders, they are caught by the sound of the bell of the first morning mass, they will be left hanging in the air. Lonely, because the devil, who is wary, will have escaped.
Compendium Maleficarum, a title that is borrowed from a treaty of demonology written in 1608 by Francesco Maria Guazzo, is a gallery of monsters, witches, voids, demoniac terrors. Of treaties signed with the devil. Of lost souls. Going through time and gathering around the fears of nowadays.
It articulates around eight episodes – conceived for the column In Residence of Flash Art Online – where it unfolds a series of drawings selected within a large footage.
Drawn with pens, colours and markers, they are dirty and worn-out notes, exposed to washing out, misusage, neglect, and unexpected reclaims.