Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
This guy was one of the Corn Witch corpses hanging from the tree.
I painted his brown parts red and then smeared him with two kinds of fake blood - the thick clot kind and the liquidy kind. I never thought that mache would take so kindly to gore.
From the man behind Kammarheit, here's his side project Cities Last Broadcast.
The album The Cancelled Earth.
Listen to samples here.
Thanks to Jack for the heads up.
Friday, January 29, 2010
In the years that passed, Baltus Van Tassel was oft accused of cloaking the truth of the whereabouts of the schoolmaster. The supernatural means by which he was spirited away became favorite lore round the winter evening fire, and the Van Tassels refuted the tales and legends, frequently citing the words of an old farmer who claimed to have once seen Mister Ichabod Crane many years prior. He now resided in a distant part of the country, he claimed, tending to a good life, and even sitting as a justice of the Ten Pound Court.
But Brom Van Brunt, round those same evening fires and in the absence of the family Van Tassel, would tell a contrasting tale. His marriage to Katrina made him privy to more than just the wealth and acreage of her family. With many years, and pints, behind him, the broad-shouldered hero of the country round, confessed dark lore of foul deceptions by the Van Tassels. To protect both the tranquil solitudes of the Hollow and their hearty abundance of farmland wealth, the headless body of the schoolmaster, and the shattered pumpkin found aside his tattered remains, were gathered, coffined, and hidden.
With each telling of the tale, the old country wives maintain that Brom Van Brunt's Herculean frame melted away in the fearful shadows of the crackling wood fire. It was then, they said, that he best resembled the very object of his legend, the lank and languid Ichabod Crane.
Neat to find an online version of the article I wrote for Hauntworld magazine's Haunted Overload feature. The issue is shipping soon so hopefully it'll arrive next week.
You can read it by clicking below:
You can order it here.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
A painting I saw many years ago in a book and I started to think it was all in my head. It has practically no web presence whatsoever. Thankfully a fellow admirer of Jamie Wyeth snapped a pic of it.
Vintage Textiles blog.
Beneath Centralia and surrounding areas lies a rich deposite of anthracite coal; very hard and compact, which burns slowly at a high temperature. Since the initial fire in 1962, the underground mine fires have spread some 400 acres, forcing the evacuation of homes in Centralia.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Evil Dead keepsake vials - dirt from the actual site of the cabin in the first Evil Dead film. Groovy.
And I love when fans travel to shooting locations of their favorite horror films.
Here are some great shots of the creepy woods and the remains of the cabin.
Trying to figure out if that's a turnip jack o'lantern. If so, it looks to be a little more carve-friendly than the brick-hard purple ones in the supermarket.
I love how the roots are left on.
This tortoise reminded me of a family pet we had when I was young. An eastern box turtle. He lived in our yard all year long. Dug down into a hole in the winter and hibernated until the first thaw of spring. Then he came up and slipped into his watering hole (a black plastic paint roller tray) for hours to rehydrate. He was like a dog. A small, leathery, slow-moving, dinosaur dog. He'd hunt for worms during rain storms and eat my mother's strawberries before she could pick them. If you were out in the yard, he'd saunter over (in his own way) and sit by your toes.
Then one very cold spring morning, during a heavy rain storm, my father mentioned "I gave the turtle a hand this morning with the shovel. I helped him out." I don't know much about turtle engineering, but they dig their holes in a way that will prevent them from drowning during heavy rains. My father had created some kind of mini-crater around our turtle's hole and it promptly filled up with icy cold water. We tried to return it to the way it was, but the hole just stayed that way - filled to the brim with muddy brown water. A week later, when the real spring thaw arrived, our turtle was a no-show. And my father was a murderer.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
By Gavin Bryars.
Really neat and haunting ambient music incorporating some of the last notes of music heard by some really terrified people. Kinda hard to comprehend.
Listen to samples here.
Thanks, Hector, for sending me the link to this.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Bean surprised me with a copy of this soundtrack a while back. I hear the film is somewhat of a disappointment, but the score by Jason Snell is really quite brilliant, and terrifying. It became the official soundtrack of my Bog Man scarecrow.
The entire album would make a very unnerving soundscape for a Halloween display.
Listen to some very dark samples here.
As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast store of apples; some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees; some gathered into baskets and barrels for the market; others heaped up in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he beheld great fields of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, and holding out the promise of cakes and hasty- pudding; and the yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies to the sun, and giving ample prospects of the most luxurious of pies; and anon he passed the fragrant buckwheat fields breathing the odor of the beehive, and as he beheld them, soft anticipations stole over his mind of dainty slapjacks, well buttered, and garnished with honey or treacle, by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina Van Tassel.