PICK A LENS:
soul sobriety
obsidian meridian
throb zombie
chakra machine
kitchen conniption
sham pain
caligula's amygdala
pleasantville
god's broken remote
bad valentine
lizard brain
cringey binger
tropical mongrel
juggalo bungalow
cold day in hell, mi
mariana bamba
mega pegasus
abra cadaver
< COLLAPSE
CURRENT LOCATION:
CURRENT LENS: soul sobriety
You are approaching the Nobile Castello, where The Limbo Society is headquartered. As first detailed by Dante, the Castello is the entry way into the greater city of Forever Sigh, the capital of the State of Limbo, in the First Circle of Hell. It’s not such a bad place once you get to know it...
WELCOME TO THE STATE OF LIMBO
As the human population of earth surged upward at the beginning of the 20th century, so did the population of the hell - turns out as more humans are born, they have to go somewhere when they die. This led to a parallel expansion of the population within each circle of Hell, particularly the First Circle.
Much of the growth centered around the urban hotspot of the Nobile Castello, a haven for human history’s “virtuous pagans,” thinkers, and all-around not-so-bad indivduals. Its seven gates could not however accommodate the influx, and the growth spilled out into the surrounding areas of the First Circle, giving rise to the city of Forever Sigh.
Forever Sigh served as the de facto capital of Limbo - a province of the First Circle - for a few decades, then became the actual capital in 1989 AD, with the Nobile Castello serving as the beating municipal and cultural heart of the state. It is here that the headquarters of the Limbo Society resides, on the famed Vague Ah Boulevard.
In 2018, we expanded our operation to the terrestrial plane, with our offices in Raleigh, NC, and began servicing terrestrial clients. If you’d like to see some of the work we’ve done so far, go see some of our Conjured Creatures, or continue on to take a brief look at our services.
“Behold, the centaur demographic has no use for shoes, but recent trends show they’ve become quite fond of the cardigan, and perceive your brand as a chief proveyor of such.”
“What invaluable insight, thank you.”
You've recently passed. You're approaching the River Styx. You peer in. You ask yourself, “Who am I? To the world? To myself?” The strings swell above you. “I determine who I am,” you declare, mostly to yourself. You decide that you’ve always enjoyed Centaurian cinema and Pre-Adam meteorology studies. You set out to find new ways to be yourself. This is brand strategy.
“I hereby declare you... VELOCIRAPTOR.”
“Oooooo that feels right.”
You decide that “Dorian” better suits your new sense of self. When you say to people, “ I used to go by Murphy, but I passed so I'm Dorian now,” they say in return, “You look like a Dorian. I dig the whole Centaurian cinephile-vibe you've got going. Right on man.” This is concepting and naming - how strategy informs the idea of you, and how you identify yourself.
“Behold, your new logo.”
“Wow it says everything I've ever wanted to say about anything. Just kidding I f@cking hate it do it again.”
You’ve decided the famed South Bank Neue Wave centaurian director Chironzo “just gets it,” so you buy a t-shirt with his face on it that says “four-leggers do it better.” You wear “Cloppers.” You only wear black. You wear sunglasses indoors. This is design and branding - how you present yourself to the world, and how they likewise interpret you.
“So here's what I think we're looking for... We love the poster you did for...”
“Sir why are you naked we are professionals.”
You start a centaurian film club (a club for watching centaurian films, not a film club exclusively for centaurs). You make posters for it, featuring a shot from the famous opening scene of Chironzo’s second film “Toggle Jockies.” To your delight, millions of people show up for the first meeting - you’re going to need a larger venue. This is print design.
“Then I spake unto myself,‘I shall build mine own site,’ and lo, here I sit, naked and starved of sanity...”
“We must help this man. He also, is naked, like so many it seems.”
Your friend who’s in GIG (the “Giant Improv Group” - giants who do improv, not a giant group of improvisors) tells you the film club would benefit from an online presence. You’re not sure where the “line” is, and how one would find themself on it. He tells you a website is like “an info booth, but on the Internet.” Now there is a net involved. Great. This is web design.
“Big Daddy King Person needs a terrarium for his python - you shall design me a terrarium.”
“Um, I suppose we could try.”
The film club really blows up. You’ve got chapters now, with group leaders, and meetings for the group leaders. And rewards points for attendees, who pay dues. Chironzo himself reposted a thing of yours on the Twittergrams. You need banners, stickers, social media stuff (what?). You’ve got to find someone to help you design and produce all of this, stuff, don't you.
a sisyphus loop a cosmic stoop a guzzled flame a senseless game a forever tongue a neon rung a floating sword a nice accord a quiet fountain a toppled mountain a hemlock toast a familiar ghost a freudian gasp a cracked hourglass a wasted giant a nameless tyrant an empty throne a subtle moan a copper snake a damn good fake an astral throb a tired sob a projected beast a neglected feast a chewed-up sky a meek reply a crumbling plane a mumbling jane a fiery chasm a spiritual spasm a forgotten sin a glare within a worthy vice a paradise LIMBO SOCIETY
Hey so I’m Tim Reavis, the Director of the Terrestrial Offices of The Limbo Society here in Raleigh, NC. I’ve been fortunate to have worked with The Limbo Society for the past three years or so.
This whole limbo thing is, most likely, to some degree, a form of modestly-managed and properly-channeled psychosis. Everything you see was written, designed, and coded by me. With a shit-ton of help from Gustave Dore of course, whom I got to meet on my last trip to headquarters. Very chill guy.
I’m a very fortunate man to be who I am at the place I am at the time I am, and to know the people I know, and to work with the people I work with. It’s not lost on me for a day.
You can buy a cheap-ass dresser and it’ll be a dresser for about a year until the drawers bottom out. You can buy a dresser from Ikea and it’ll do just fine - you can even paint it if you’re feeling crazy. You can buy a dresser from West Elm that’s really nice - hopefully it lasts awhile. You can hire your local carpenter to build a custom one-of-a-kind dresser, sourced from the finest Mexican Kingwood, that feels like a piece of you, and fits in exactly with your bedroom.
You can also hire an artist-woodworker who’s only half-sane and lives in a mountain cave workshop, and makes dressers that look plucked out of dali paintings. Brands are dressers. Websites are dressers. Everything is dressers.
hell
is
in
the
mind.
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