coat of arms and and arcane yarns

By Art Chantry (

This is sir isaac newton’s coat or arms. so, i guess this was the personal logo of the creator of newtonian physics and the man who discovered gravity for all of us when an apple fell on his head while he napped cutely under an apple tree.

AC:each caste has it's martyrs. without heros, you can't fight each other righteously, ya know. it's all part of the concept of 'hubris'. geez, i'm sick of all the bullshit. i don't believe anybody about anything any more. we're all so stupid.

Everything in this image has symbolic meanings and references. even the fact that one bone is slightly longer that the other, that the shape of the image is a shield, that they happen to be shin bones, that the color is black, even that that one bone is sitting on top of the other bone in that order (the bone on top is called the ‘sinister”. no joke) all have meanings well beyond their appearance to tell you everything you need to know about isaac, his family, his power and his position. we’re so ignorant about all this language that we mostly just see “pirates”.

It’s also recently been revealed in the popular culture that the world’s most famous historical scientist was also an alchemist and spent a lot his time trying to turn lead in to gold (the philosopher’s stone). he was also an astrologer who carefully informed himself by reading the positioning of the heavens.

You see, back then, it was all one big thing – science, mysticism, magic and religion. it’s only as we traveled along these paths over time that we all developed this world of hierarchy and specialization that is virtually an intellectual caste system. science became the accepted and unchallenged belief system (well, until recently anyway). magic and astrology became scorned and ignored while religion became something called “faith” (a firm commitment to believe the otherwise unbelievable.)

We now all commit to a specialized field of thought and commit our very self-identities to it. the result is chaos and fighting rather than any sort of solidarity or unity among men.

These are my tools as a graphic designer. i use all this stuff to create a desired unconscious and emotional reaction in the viewer. i am a dangerous person.

beware of graphic designers. they may seem like twits but we are very dangerous people.


AC:is there anythi

ORE dangerous than a dangerous twit?…two words: adolf hitler….he was a failed commercial artist, too….he was trying to be an architectural renderer. he wasn’t bad, either. it’s just whenever he tried to draw people instead of buildings, they looked all fucked up – like he couldn’t grok, ya know?

Finally he turned to his true calling, that of counterfeiting. After coining a great deal of money (he once claimed to have produced more than thirty thousand pounds in his life, about four million pounds in today’s money) and getting caught a couple of times — once escaping conviction by turning informer, and the other time by coming up with, along with his co-accused, such a delightfully tangled mess of accusations and cross-accusations that everyone was let go out of confusion — he began to look for more safer avenues. He realised that for a man of his skill, making good counterfeit coins wasn’t the problem, having it untraceable back to him was. In an audacious plan, he realised that the safest place from which to pass his money was the Mint itself, and resolved to get into it.

He printed a couple of pamphlets giving advice to the government on how to prevent counterfeiting — here his expertise was all too evident — and even once gave a speech in parliament. Newton ignored him at first and denied him entry even to look at the machines in the mint, until Chaloner lost patience and decided to attack the man himself. (He alleged that the mint was making side money by participating in counterfeiting itself. The worst part was, some of these accusations were true: some dies had disappeared from the mint. Newton was put on trial and forced to defend himself, and nearly lost his job.)

Big mistake.

Newton was finally annoyed, and made it his goal to destroy him. Over the next two years, he devoted much of his life to ruining Chaloner’s. With customary ruthlessness, he set about accumulating evidence and witnesses. By now Chaloner was in custody again — bank notes and a Malt Lottery had just come into existence, and of course he counterfeited them — so he was out of the way. Newton got spies and informers planted in all the right places, he tracked down old contacts of Chaloner — friends, female coiners he’d had affairs with, wives of former associates — and subpoenaed (or just intimidated) them into giving testimony, anticipated who would try to flee to Scotland when, and prepared an impenetrable web of evidence. It is more complicated than that, and Chaloner still did his best from behind bars and the whole cat-and-mouse game has more details than I have any remaining patience to go into now :-), but you can read about them in the book. Chaloner was brought to trial. He tried every defence in succession, from pleading innocence to madness to pointing out (validly) that he was being tried by a Middlesex jury for crimes committed in London. He was convicted nevertheless, and after Newton ignored all the piteous mercy petitions he wrote, was hanged, drawn and quartered. Read More:

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