Inaugural speech of the Covenant of Decadent Artists.

Brothers and sisters in the arts of the word, the paint, the clay, the sound and other countless mediums. Today it is the day, when we cease to be mere artisans and we consecrate ourselves as artists. Those of you who were unlucky enough to attend that palace of empty ink and monotone voice that is the College of Bards in Solitude but lucky enough to receive my teachings, already know full well the transcendental importance of today. But those of you who have come from other parts and other arts, because you heard of my teachings or have been taught by my disciples, may not know in full our statements about the art and our vision of it. You may even think that we are merely an aesthetically unorthodox movement. Nothing farther from the truth. This speech is for you, so that you may understand us fully when we say that art comes from the inside.

When I was young I entered the College of Bards seeking to create art. But I always felt that it eluded me. No teaching, no method and no theory led me to compose something I felt mine. Everything was too rigid and stiff, too artificial. I was willing to do anything so that my verses felt organic and my poetry an extension of myself. That led me to search for a muse. The first muse I followed did not convince me. He was too superficial, concerned with style and not with substance, always preoccupied about the reception of the work, always seeking to be different for the sake of being different. The second muse I followed brought me much joy. My clouded memories are of ale, skooma and lascivious dances. But this lifestyle constrains the creative impulse, I never managed to express myself in that continuous state of drunken bliss, and all that debauchery had no intrinsic meaning, being vice for the mere sake of committing vice. The third muse I followed was, well, creative indeed. But the content he suggested me was content for the sake of content. It didn’t matter if it was felt or not, or if it represented what is natural, what is inside of us.

It was the fourth muse with whom I stayed. As most of you know, we call her by three titles, whose meaning I shall explain today. We call her “Night of the Artists” because she teaches us to renounce the day of the form and focus on the night of the substance. She impels us to look into the darkness to find what is inexpressible and express it, which is the task of any artist devoted to her. And where can we find this night from where to draw our expression? The answer lies in her second title “Muse of the Inside”. She entices us to look inside ourselves, past formalities and coverings, to unearth our true selves, who we really are and what we truly crave. Most are fearful to do so, to find what there is on their inside, to discover that lies within you a most wretched being. That is why the third title we give her is “Redeemer of the Abominable”, for art as an expression of that inexpressible abomination that lies within us. Art is not meant to be pretty or wholesome but as filthy and decaying as we are all by nature, and she assists us in putting our hidden filthiness to the forefront, in redeeming our substance and getting it rid of superfluous style. She loves us not by how we express but for what we express: our entrails, our secret passions and desires, our true thoughts. As such she loves all sentient beings, for she knows what we truly are deep down and she loves it so much she wants us to embrace it. It is our duty to, through our art, liberate the world with the endless love of our muse.

For years we have been preaching the love of our muse in secret, with subterfuge, fooling others into thinking we were soulless imitators of the pristine exterior instead of holy apostles of the decaying interior. But the day has finally come to get rid ourselves of the influence of the pure people and their institutions, and to live, create and die in this covenant. It is time we pledge unwavering loyalty to our muse in the only way she would want it, with a mass indulgence of our true desires, after repeating all-together her three blessed titles: Night of the Artists. Muse of the Inside. Redeemer of the Abominable.