Doompunk Dispatch

David K. - weird writing ~ doompunkdispatch.com

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Yog-Sothoth by Jorge Peña

[doompunkdispatch]

Here’s his IG! https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

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Wilbur Whately by Jorge Peña

[doompunkdispatch]

Here’s his IG https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

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Dunwich Child by Jorge Peña

[doompunkdispatch]

Here’s his IG! https://www.instagram.com/jorclank?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Jorge Peña (@jorclank) • Instagram photos and videos

2,568 Followers, 7,694 Following, 871 Posts - See Instagram photos and videos from Jorge Peña (@jorclank)

[doompunkdispatch]

Cover art for Drippy Trippy Doom (2025, David Kane). Art by Jorge Peña.

[bastardbeck]

i've been very very busy!! many potentially very exciting things to come! but here's an edgy pin up girl with some weaponry to hold us all over in the meantime!

[doompunkdispatch]

Dunwich Child by Jorge Peña

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Wilbur Whately by Jorge Peña

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Yog-Sothoth by Jorge Peña

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Words Grow Weird in Alphabet Gardens

“…when the great Demiurge, Faro Lord of Waters and the Word, was setting the world in order, he made women fertile with tomatoes and in retu

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Drippy Trippy Doom

“I’m not sure if David Kane is an occult conspiracy theorist afflicted with logomania, a brash new writer who’s not afraid to take risks, or

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Literary Horror & Surrealist Trash

an appreciation of Joe Koch

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Call Me Face Stabber

a strange tale with original art by Jorge Peña

Please enjoy a strange tale of psychedelic doom featuring original art by Jorge Peña (find him as @jorclank on IG!)

[mechabarbarian]

Cyborg Frankenstein.

[purrtyhatemachine]

[doompunkdispatch]

The Wound Takes Hold: Control In Cronenberg

You see, control can never be a means to any practical end. It can never be a means to anything but more control. Like junk. ~ William S. Bu

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Words Grow Red in Alphabet Gardens

[Edited by Amabilis O’Hara]

Spring means nothing to the San Tobit desert.

Tiny temperature alterations barely perturb the barren ecosystem. But the Gardens feel it. From March 22nd to May 19th, they flourish in a sea level canyon. Legend speculates that plants do not grow there. Names do. Delirious letters spell delicious words, ripe for enunciation. Imbibe the fruit’s flesh and Know.

One seeker sojourns for this verbal oasis. She trundles down Gerund Canyon—her Orphic descent carrying her like spores tracing pink arabesques on the perfidious breeze—and follows the winding corpse of the long-dry Ekphrastic Creek. She takes steps with a thief’s conviction.

The Gardens house the rarest plants on the planet. Vegetative consciousness abounds in verdant ecstasy. Reverent flowerbeds bow heads, inviolate in vibrancy. Violet irises roll out the red carpet for this sunburnt bodhisattva.

The seeker sinks deeper. The river rises past her waist, now torso, now neck. Strange amphibians slither in vortices below her toes. Atop a lily pad sits the seeker’s prize. The Gardens’ springtime environment enriches a certain scarlet cactus sporting white clouds of pernicious spines. This peyote-like entheogen promises mystical dispatch. Just don’t let its tips prick your throat during download.

Exhaustion forgotten, she forces the thing into her mouth. Epidermal defenses slice her lips. Lovely wounds weep inside her cheeks as wooly fibers gouge her uvula. Salival psychopomp and stomach circumstance greet the guest.

Head slips beneath the creek—body sinks into murk. Gossamer knots untie—she lies in the grotto at the bottom of the world. Fish filch her nutritious bits. Particles crack off participant participles. The seeker merges with Everything Else. She Knows and therefore is Known.

On May 20th, as always, the Alphabet Gardens shrink away, leaving nothing but the scorched, scarred desert.

The rest is spit in the wind.

Words Grow Red in Alphabet Gardens

Edited by Amabilis O’Hara Spring means nothing to the San Tobit desert. Tiny temperature alterations barely perturb the barren ecosystem. Bu

[retroscifiart]

Concept art by H.R. Giger for Alien (1979)

[slithergaunt]

Funny how interesting things happen when you hire artists completely outside of the film industry to design things for your film. You end up with something wildly unique and memorable.

Alien would've been a decent sci-fi movie with a generic alien monster and a generic alien ship where they found the eggs.

But instead we got treated to the wildly confusing, oddly sexual, biomechanical ship and creature that STABBED itself into the cinematic world. I still say that hiring the late, great, H.R. Giger held that ENTIRE movie together like glue.

Great direction, great action, great plot, but his weird shit is what really GRABBED people. And if I recall, this is the specific piece that made Ridley Scott want to hire him: Necronom IV

Not just scary and gross and ugly, but upsetting, weird, uncomfortable to look at. So confusingly phallic that men were just as scared by it as women (that, in addition to the fact that it was already established it was born when a weird hand/spider impregnated a man down his throat).

Hollywood STILL has yet to learn that drawing from sources outside their conventional/country/comfort-zone is often THE difference between an ok flick, and something that disturbs the world, and the world gets kinda into it and it gets weird.

[theartofasty]

this is something that as an artist I've been wanting to do pretty much all my life, work on a movie, but not as yet another grunt concept artist following orders from directors and producers with an extremely limited artistic language, instead as a Fine Artist, more "collaborating" and bringing a unique outsider vision and aesthetic into a film project, this is a rare occurrence but we've seen it a handful of times in projects like: 1979's Alien, as mentioned above (H.R.Giger)

Brian Froud on The Dark Crystal (1982)

Moebius on The Abyss (1989)

Alexander Juhasz on The Babadook (2014)

Joseph Avery on Possum (2018)

These are all very different films (aside of being classified as "horror" in some form), but a common theme between all of them is their unique aesthetic identity, brought into the film majorly by outsider artists artists that don't fit the pathologically standardized mold of Hollywood concept artist work, where artists are rarely treated as, well, artists with a unique vision of their own capable of bringing something fresh and new to a project, and instead are seen as nothing more than grunt physical work to fill in the gaps of visual flair in a movie; instead these films have artists that were approached for their intriguing, evocative and unique ideas and sets of skills, rendering results that easily stand out amongst the crowd, and not just for the superficial appeal of the aesthetics, but often in cases for the way these artists' work consciously or unconsciously drive the movies' themes, psychology and symbolism. This is sadly still a rare occurrence, and I would argue it is even more so nowadays with more and more of the film industry becoming a cold corporate machine where artistry is secondary and maximization of profits is first, but I don't lose hope, I know there are still film directors out there, both established and up and coming, that prioritize art and understand the value of the collaborative nature of film, and I hope to one day be able to work with one of these filmmakers and bring my art into a new format.