I honestly go back and forth on whether or not I’m really into horror. I mean, I love horror-comedy like Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, or the Evil Dead series, obviously. Romero movies and Alien and the first Saw film. Weird foreign-language horror movies like Anatomie, Ringu, or Ju-On are great too.
But I like there to be a point. I can’t get through Walking Dead. It bores me to tears. American Horror Story has its moments, but it tends to unravel. Is Carrie still considered horror? Is Sandman a horror graphic novel?
Genres are weird.
Anyway. I’ll be at Horror Con and while I probably won’t have any new prints (and my prints are too comic book oriented) I’m hoping to bring some sculptures, which is new for me. Just a matter of borrowing someone’s oven.
Any time I do a genre’d show I end up thinking too much about what makes that genre itself. I was talking to a horror burlesque performer a while back and she said she just really likes the constrast between blood and cute things.
And I guess that’s what art is, in a nutshell. The contrast between two things that you don’t necessarily think of together, but are linked in ways we don’t typically process. Because everything’s linked. It pretty much always comes back to the Lizard Brain. To let yourself be afraid in a controlled context. To see absurd amounts of blood spray on Ash’s face when his chainsaw digs in. It’s funny. It’s visceral. Maybe it’s the reminder that we’re all just meat and bones? Looking for hope in the zombie apocalypse you find yourself in?
Genres are weird. Come to my table, I’ll be in the hallway by the lobby.