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I'd rather be in outer space šø
Peter Solarz
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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JBB: An Artblog!
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Ameliorate
"Where's that light?" A little four panel horror comic/test page that I made recently in order to try and get better at lettering. The scene is inspired from an old Bigfoot horror story that I wrote a while back.
Still got a way to go with lettering for sure, but quite happy with it nonetheless!
the descent (2006) immaculate (2024)
horror sub-genres: cults
Suspiria (1977)Ā dir. Dario Argento
AMERICAN MARY (2012) dir. Jen & Sylvia Soska
Based on a True Story: The Conjuring and Writing Real Horror
Art and Words by Charlotte Elliott - Instagram: c.elli03
The Conjuring Franchise has always been a guilty pleasure of mine. There has always been something oddly alluring about the cursed doll of Anabelle bearing a bloody red grin; the shape of The Nun forming in the shadows of a dark abbey; a possessed child rasping in tongues while Ed Warren condemns the spirit back to hell. Itās a classic example of modern mainstream Hollywood horror.
When people learn Iām doing my PhD in horror studies, they often keenly ask me for recommendations. In blank panic, unfortunately, I forget every āgoodā piece of horror media to ever exist. I forget my beloved Gremlins or Midsommar or The Thing. Never once have I admitted that The Conjuring has always been on my comfort list. Honestly, itās kind of embarrassing.
Itās not the cheap jumpscares, or lacklustre storytelling. Sometimes, itās nice to indulge in predictability. And sure, thereās the not-so-subtle message of conservatism. I can look past that, albeit grudgingly.
As a writer, the reason I feel weird about liking The Conjuring is its fabrication. Of course, no one expected Ed and Lorraine Warren - played by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga - to be as perfectly vanilla as their on-screen counterparts. Iām certain most people roll their eyes as supposed demonologist Ed performs a house-shaking exorcism, whilst Lorraine has a convenient vision that reveals the last piece of the puzzle.
But who could blame Hollywood for ramping it up to make a profit? Isnāt that the crux of what horror and entertainment is all about? Profit, profit, profit. Facts go out the window when thereās an audience to entertain.
When I first became interested in horror based on ātruthā, I tried my hand at writing my own dramatic short story based upon an alleged ārealā haunting. My source of inspiration was the Ancient Ram Inn in Gloucestershire, England. The Ram Inn self-proclaims to be a location of numerous historical true hauntings, presented as indisputable fact. The Innās website says there are Norman French records of the 800-year-old property, citing the Gloucester Records Office.
When researching, I couldnāt find any public records on the local archive database. Many websites described the Innās ātrue historical crimesā: a woman burned for witchcraft, a man murdered after his head was forced into the fireplace, an innkeeperās daughter killed upstairs - if you believe hauntedrooms.com. In The Daily Mail, the former ownerās daughter, Carole Humphries, recounted āpeople running out of the house screamingā, stating āobjects move⦠we used to hear the ghosts of murdered children''. Her father John told the BBC eight guests had to be exorcised.
The website boasts that the Ram Inn is built on ancient Pagan ritual grounds excavated by Bristol University. However, no academic records exist. I even contacted Dr. Stuart Prior, who is responsible for excavations in the Gloucestershire area. He said this claim is ācertainly not related to any of the archeology [here]. Iāve never even heard of the Ram Inn''.
Not unlike The Conjuring stories, localised horror legends that claim to be based on truth are milked to generate profit. During my writing, I came to the conclusion that the Ram Innās original alleged victims cannot be vouched for. Especially thanks to questionable internet sources. Whatever the truth is in Gloucestershire, the Ram Inn still helped to inspire a (very average) short story. And it isnāt hurting anyone by claiming a spooky history.
The same cannot necessarily be said about The Conjuring. Itās not about the filmmakers ātrickingā the audience into thinking these events occurred. Itās not about the desire to profit from a fanciful story. Presenting ātruthā in film is dicey at best (where do you draw the line?). But this isnāt a criticism about cinematic accuracy.
My big issue with The Conjuring is not its extreme creative licence. The Nun II seriously goes as far to imply Lorraine Warren is a descendant of Saint Lucy. Sure, whatever. What I find uncomfortable is that The Conjuring presents the Warrens as the perfect Godly couple. In reality, they were crooks taking advantage of vulnerable people.
The latest instalment of the franchise, The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021), covers the trial of Arne Johnson. In 1981, the Warrens did try and get off a man convicted of manslaughter by using demonic possession as a defence. Although an interesting premise for a movie, The Conjuring unquestionably excuses Johnsonās actions by literally presenting āthe devil made me do itā argument. The Conjuring and The Conjuring 2 merely follow ghostly hauntings; the third film takes it one step further by disrespecting a real victim, Johnsonās landlord Alan Bono.
When I researched the Ancient Ram Inn, it seemed that the ghosts were so far back in history that no one knew the whole story anymore. Perhaps now, you can just claim anything. Unlike the Inn, The Conjuring films take place between the 1970s-1980s. Itās recent enough that we can decisively analyse the erasure of the ugly truth.
Ed and Lorraine Warren were terrible people that should not be given grace. They conducted paranormal investigations to scam people by citing false āscientific methodsā. Ed had an affair with a girl who was only fifteen. Allegedly, Lorraine encouraged the girl to have an abortion (resulting from her relationship with Ed) to protect the Warrensā reputation. There was also alleged domestic violence in the family.
The Conjuring has contributed a false legacy. For a couple so devoted to Catholicism and denouncing evil, the Warrens had no problem profiting from fake science and baseless clairvoyance. Meanwhile, they were supposedly engaging in domestic abuse and pedophilia. It is clear from any basic Google search that the Warrens were not even close to the wholesome power couple we see on screen.
For anyone writing about horror ābased on a true storyā, I encourage you to think about The Conjuring as an example of how storytelling can be harmful. Very few people believe in an exaggerated - well, downright invented - ghost story. Especially when you swear it really happened. Deep down, the audience knows the writing is for profit and entertainment. Even my silly little Ram Inn story was mostly fictitious, despite all that research. When depicting real subjects, writers have a responsibility to be considerate when real victims are involved. On top of that, it should go without saying that itās in poor taste to glorify dreadful people, criminals, and/or con artists. Shamefully - although I like to flick it on for an easy watch - The Conjuring contributes to the problematic legacy of the Warrens as heroes against the horrors.
sure sign that the brain worms are taking over ā¤ļø
images that go hard as fuck
We Clock Out
Drawn by me
Ink and pencil on paper
Sleep Paralysis, pencil drawing by ragneidr
Transformations in Re-Animator: Body Horror at its Finest
By Tabby Knight (Instagram - tabby.knight6)
Artwork by Dy Dawson, @xgardensinspace
I love Re-Animator. Iām in love with it. Seriously, disgustingly, violently in love with it. If I could marry a film, itād be Re-Animator (and Iād be sure to court it firstāflowers, chocolates, disembodied hearts floating in jars, the works). If I could marry a character in a film, itād be Herbert West, which probably indicatesānot that I needed an indicationāthat thereās something really very wrong with me as a human being.
But the heart wants what it wants, and ever since I watched Stuart Gordonās 1985 splatter-fest as a bloodthirsty undergrad, streaming the film in low quality on my cracked, ageing iPhone, my heart has wanted Re-Animator. I love everything about the film, from its lead characters to its buckets of blood to its ridiculous, oh-so-quotable moments of barefaced comedy (āYouāll never get credit for my discovery. Whoās going to believe a talking head? Get a job in a sideshow.ā) and I know just about everything about it, too. Iāve seen its sequels (Brideās a messy triumph, we donāt speak about Beyond) watched interviews, deleted scenes, actor and director commentaries, the works. Iāve also tracked down just about every other horror film featuring the dynamic duo of Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton, seeking something of the same calibre to scratch that gory itch. A few films have come close, but none so far have surpassed it. As a lifelong viewer of 80ās corn-syrup gore, I can assure you that Re-Animator is unmatched. It stands alone.
Thereās a lot of talk about Re-Animator as a cult classic, and rightly so. Thereās also talk about it as a comedy (true) a splatter film (also true) and a landmark of Lovecraftian canon (absolutely). But what I donāt see talked about as much, is that itās a pretty impressive piece of transformation horrorāverging on body horror, reallyāin the same vein as Jekyll and Hyde, The Fly, or American Werewolf in London.
At its core, Re-Animator is a film about uncontrollable, transforming bodies, both the obvious and the subtle. From its opening sequence (Doctor Gruberās freaky, bulging eyes that explode right out of his head) to its final, blood-soaked showdown, the body is a constant site of change.
There is, first and foremost, the transformations brought about by Herbert Westās re-agent: the re-animation of the tranquil dead to aggressive, violent zombies. By that same token, the re-agent also transitions Dean Halsey from a rational human being into a creature who mindlessly kidnaps, restrains and strips his own daughter, and aids Doctor Hillās transition from a creepy, unethical professor to an all-out, murderous sexual predator (albeit a decapitated one).
But there are also the subtle changes. Danās patients are always in motion, crossing over from life to death (itās funny to think that in a film set primarily in a hospital, none of the patients on display actually make it out alive) and the bodies in the morgue are always shown in transitional states of rot and decay. Almost every shot of a body (or its parts) displays these changing states in full detail, a constant reminder of human fragilityāour own lack of control over our own bodies, and the inevitable breakdown of the flesh.
But my favourite transformationāand perhaps the most criminally overlookedādoesnāt actually occur in the body at all. Or at least, not at first glance. Itās the transformation we see in All-American good guy Dan Cain: our squeaky-clean med student protagonist, and eventual accomplice to Herbertās maniacal experiments. At the start of the film, Dan appears to have it all. Good career prospects, a super cute girlfriend (Megan Halsey, Iām in love with you) and what appears to be a fairly concrete spot on the Deanās List: Dean Halsey even goes so far as to describe him as one of Miskatonicās most promising studentsāno mean feat, considering heās regularly bedding the ultra-conservative Deanās only daughter. The only identifiable flaw in his apple pie life would appear to be his inner struggle with mortality. Not his own, you understand, but that of his patients. He refuses to accept that dead is emphatically, irrevocably dead. And of course, itās this struggle that sets up the rest of the film.
Throughout Re-Animatorās speedy 90-minute runtime, we see Dan transition almost seamlessly from an upstanding member of society to a man who willingly injects a volatile substance into the corpse of his dead girlfriend, despite knowing full well what the consequences will be. In essence, he transforms from a regular guy into an all-out monster. Granted, heās a monster with a conscience (we see that very clearly in Bride of Re-Animator) but arguably, so are your American Werewolves and Brundleflies.
In fact, you could argue Danās a little bit worse than most transformative monsters: Danās conscience, such as it is, always seems to disappear when faced with the prospect of his own self-interest. Despite all his prior reservations, his reluctance to revive Dean Halsey (until it suits him) his fury at Herbertās murder and resurrection of Doctor Hill, all of it seems to dissipate in the face of Megās death. Then, suddenly, thereās no hesitation, no ethics. He barely hesitates in retrieving the reagent, measuring up the dose, or injecting Meg in the brain stem. His transformationāman to monsterāis complete. And he didnāt even have to shed his skin to do it.
This is, in part, what I think is missing from the 1989 sequel, Bride of Re-Animator (aside from Stuart Gordon in the directorās chair). Brideās a good movie, and I like it a lot, even if it does lag a little somewhere around the middle. But what really lets it down is the absence of that underlying transformative arc ā we as an audience arenāt particularly unnerved by Danās second descent into medical madness, because itās not exactly shocking or new. Weāve already seen the very worst he could do first time around, and anything Bride tries to offer us naturally falls short. A better direction for the sequel might have been a role reversalāmaybe Herbert gains something of a conscience while Dan continues to lose his? But then of course, thereās the risk that Herbert might also lose some of the callous edge that makes him such an iconic anti-hero (and makes me love him so, so much). Itād be a fine line to walk, and interestingly some fanworks do a great job of it, but itās never quite transferred to the realm of sequel film.
For me, itāll always come back to that final shotāthe plunge of the Re-agent filled syringe before Barbara Cramptonās iconic scream and the dramatic cut to black. Thereās only one ending that comes close to scratching the same depraved itch in my strange little brain, and thatās the closing line in Stephen Kingās Pet Semetary:
āā¦Darling.ā
I recreated Caravaggioās āJudith Beheading Holofornesā in Kid Pix Studio from 1995 using a mouse. Here's the video I made doing it.
Finally Actually Finished!
#KatieSteedArt
Title -š„ Ewar Woowar š„
Painted 23/4/24
I made a mistake the first time so have had to repost
The inspo below
28. A Toast
LOGIC [Easy: Success] - One is a doctor, and one is a scientist. Do NOT get it mixed up.
THE LOVE WITCH
2016, dir. Anna Biller