Micah Rustichelli Residency Blog 1

“Strange bedfellows, perhaps, queers and environmentalists, but stranger, hopefully, the results.”

– Catriona Sandilands, 1994

That I Should Pray For Angels follows a thread of ongoing interest in my practice: climate anxiety, religious apocalypses and preppers. This quote, from Sandilands’ 1994 text Lavenders Green? Some Thoughts on Queer(y)ing Environmental Politics, inspires a central pillar of the work I am creating. What can queers, and uniquely queer perspectives, offer to survivalism?

“Who am I, a mortal man, that I should pray for angels … or who will pray for me?”

– 2 Enoch 7:3

The book of Enoch is an apocryphal text detailing the fall of “The Watchers”, angels fallen to temptation on earth, and the events that preceded the flood of Noah. These angels taught forbidden knowledge to humans such as the working of metal into weapons, armour and jewellery, as well as astrology, astronomy, meteorology, and more. I am fascinated by the idea presented in this text that these areas of knowledge, wrongfully gifted to us, are a reason for our present suffering. 

I am interested in playing with the allegory of angels as queer beings, and the imagery in Enoch of a pre-messianic apocalypse. I am interested in preppers and survivalists, and the way that this culture may become quite pertinent in the years to come. I am interested in queers as largely climate-aware, community-focussed individuals, who are either already or fast becoming, proactive survivalists. And how exciting is the prospect of a culture of survivalism that also holds space for joy, intimacy, togetherness, camp? I offer an interpolation of the Sandilands quote above:

“Strange bedfellows, perhaps, queers and survivalists, but stranger, hopefully, the results.”

This brings me to the first work created for this project: a hanky flag of sorts, yet to be titled. 

The hanky code emerged in the 1970’s throughout America, Australia and Europe, as a way for gay people to non-verbally negotiate sexual encounters. This was a way to circumnavigate the dangers of homophobia, hatecrime and illegality of homosexual sex at the time. I’ve long been inspired by the image of these hankies as a representation of queer survival, in ways that are practical yet intimate, sexual, cheeky, connected. 

The “flag”, composed of flagging hankies, depicts an image from the book of Enoch. At the end of the earth where the mouth to Sheol (hebrew underworld) is a void which sits behind seven mountains, 1 of stone, of pearl and of jacinth, 3 of red stone and one central to these 6 which reaches higher, of alabaster with a summit of sapphire like a throne. Emerging from the pit behind are seven columns of fire, and above those, seven burning stars. The angel guiding Enoch describes this place as the end of heaven and earth and a prison for the stars and heavenly hosts, the fallen angels being bound to the imprisoned stars until the day of judgement where their guilt will be consummated for ten thousand years. The text alludes to these angels being those that were intimate with humans, now bound to observe the destruction of these people. 

This image in nylon hankies pinned to a sleeping bag of the same material represents a beginning in this work, a Genesis to my current Revelation. As I work over it, I ruminate on my relationship to climate catastrophe, apocalyptic fantasy, and a pesky hangeron from former beliefs that we somehow deserve this divine punishment. A thought I don’t endorse of course. 

And just for fun, the hankies represented here:

(not expressly chosen for their acts)