#mr. hunter

[drewshiroll]

Shawn and Jack's dad knew he was going to die when he asked Allan to look after his boys, but lied so he wouldn't over worry anyone. 

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME, BOY MEETS WORLD?! WHYYYYYYY!?

[confessions-and-gossip-of-a-blog]

"I think Mr. Hunter is fantastic."

[katleyva]

I had to find you Tell you I need you Tell you I set you apart Tell me your secrets And ask me your questions Oh, lets go back to the start Running in circles Coming up tails Heads on a science apart. Nobody said it was easy It's such a shame for us to part Nobody said it was easy No one ever said it would be this hard

…Come back and haunt me…

  I miss you James (Jim) Hunter. This song will always remind me of sophomore year's class and the funeral project we all took part in. We never expected the only person we didn't speak about would be the first one we'd lose. Rest in peace and know my career jump-started with your inspiration, guidance and love. 

[seamaid-lux]

Random Fact:

My freshman Biology teacher owned a Honey farm called "Hunter's Honey Farm." 

It was awesome, because we'd get honey sticks, and honey beef jerky, and honey candy. 

That was the best.

[matthewbainbridge]

Olaf Brzeski // Mr. Hunter

Before we realize the irreversibility of our situation, the great head will manage to fall into an ill comatose dream and the majority of life evidence will die out. Afterwards, in May, tiny grave diggers will be attracted by what remains of us. Certainly, this is a surrealistic illusion. As if you were supporting a team, apparently weaker, who had been devastated by its opponent for a long time now. And when they finally score a point, you can hear the spectators sighing with a visible relief: “At last!”.

Brzeski's reanimation of the inside of a hunter's lodge stands precariously on the cusp of reality, occasionally dipping it's toes into the waters of our world it remains rooted to the dream world in it's unfamiliarity. The hunter's furniture has failed in it's construction, felled by the detritivores of the rotten earth they have became skeletons, bones of dead animals shot by the hunter, abandoned to the forgotten corners of his atelier. A prevailing sense of decay suggests the hunter's absence, tentatively wading through the space we become increasingly aware of the mouldering leaf litter that has consumed the floor, we become vulnerable to it's insatiable hungering, the hunter's trophies spectators of our demise.

There is no solace for us here, hunters are killers, nightmarish villains, we pace the same floors as the executioner and become him. His victims seek atonement, their blackened heads sprout teeth and lunge towards us from shadow, a feeling of helplessness envelops us as we succumb to the warm smell of dirt. A tepid irridescence lures us further into the lodge, now completely consumed by the hunter's world we are brought to our knees in reverence of his most prized weapon. A gun or a bone, maybe both, it matters not, bowed beneath the instrument of death we enter a contemplatitive trance, the animals have already orchestrated our execution, they want to take our heads and present them as we have theirs.

The reality is the ever present conflict between good and evil, the villain's extensively awaited swap of roles. Brzeski's taxidermy trophies are no longer victims, they have contracted a ravenous disease, inevitable with the relentless advances of evolution, this is where we have arrived. Mr. Hunter displays the effect of assimilation, our human want to catalogue, document, collect and assert power over.

The juxtaposition between civilisation and nature is a common theme within Brzeski's work, his video work In Memory of Jozef Moneta similarly examines the possible consequences of our ever increasing encroachment upon the natural world. Bretheren to the hunter, Krokodylak appears as a macabre half breed between reptile and human, a threatening entity birthed from the minds of frightened children. A slaughtered snow white rabbit hangs limp in the antagonist's hands, symbolic of our unlawful contamination of the natural. Already dehumanised by an unnerving willingness to kill the innocent, he continues along the forest path towards complete metamorphosis.