The HouseWhat This Is
Behold, the most powerful psychic instruments ever crafted. I wrote that on a banner twenty years ago, half in jest, and I have spent the two decades since trying to make it true.
What you will find on these pages is not a shop in the usual sense. It is a workshop's register: every instrument I make for the séance table, the writing pad, the dowser's field and the investigator's bag, each described to the standard I would want if I were the one buying, which is the only standard I have ever found reliable. The talking board and its pointer. The automatic-writing planchette, the oldest of them all. The dial plates and spiritoscopes of Robert Hare, rebuilt from his plates of 1855. The L-rod and the pendulum and the board that reads them. And the exotic tier, where a cabinet, a trumpet, a black mirror and a hand of bone china wait for the few who will know what to do with them.
They are expensive. They are expensive because each is made once, by hand, to a proportion that was old before Pythagoras, in timbers that take a year to season and a week to finish, with brass I cast and turn and felt I cut by eye. A board of mine will outlast the house it sits in. It is meant to be handed down, and the register on this site exists so that it can be, with its number and its date and the name of the person who first opened it.


Three things I will not do
I will not tell you what the instrument detects. A pointer moves because hands move it; a pendulum swings because a wrist trembles; a dial turns because a cord is pulled. Where the impulse comes from is a question four centuries of serious people have failed to settle, and I am not going to settle it on a product page. My instruments are built so that whatever is moving them can move them cleanly. That is the whole of my claim, and I make it without apology.
I will not make a cheap one. There is a version of every instrument on this site that costs a tenth of mine. I know, because I own most of them; the antique boards in these photographs are a collection assembled over twenty years for the purpose of learning what their makers got right. What they got right is on this site. What they got wrong, plastic pointers, printed boards, chains with play in them, is not.
I will not sell to a child, or to anyone who tells me they cannot tell what is real. The register asks your age. The method these instruments serve is a loosening of the seam between the self and the not-self, and for most adults that is a fascination and a discipline. For a few it is a danger, and the sale is refused.


How a commission runs
You write. I answer with a drawing and a quotation, the current number, and a range of weeks. A deposit opens the number in the register. The instrument is made, photographed, and the photograph is sent before it ships, so that the piece you receive is the piece you saw. It arrives in its case with its certificate, and the register carries your name from that day, unless you ask it not to.
Pieces already finished are in the catalogue, priced, and can be reserved in the basket at the head of every page. The basket is this house's own; nothing from my other workshops ever appears in it.

