The music in the background is like that of a circus
carousel - yet mournfully slow and not quite in tune. The high notes
of the calliope strike minor keys which soar above the mist enshrouded landscape
like bats. No stars shine in this bleak environment and the moon that
hangs full and heavy in the empty sky seems not to cast a revealing light
but only to accent the dark shadows. Strange shapes stand just out
of sight - bent trees, fences and street signs rusted and gnarled with age.
The houses are all dark, and we are alone, wondering how we got
here. Skittering noises fill the shadows. Leaves being blown
in the wind or the more animal sound of claws on pavement? Try not
to imagine it as the chitinous rustling it really is.
Move warily here.
This is the sub-conscious arena where all our nightmares live ... and wait
for their chance.
I am not a violent man, nor, I think, a particularly
scary man. I consider myself a generally amiable sort of fellow. I
don't watch movies about people named Jason, I've never read Stephen King
or Clive Barker, and I sleep very soundly at night. Yet ... every now
and then ... something different creeps out from the back of my brain and
demands attention. Past the goofy cartoons and many ducks of my mind
comes a different sort of twisted. All shadows and highlights they
move in a bizarre sort of chiarscuro ballet until I satisfy them by putting
pencil to paper. What may be stranger still is that when I have shown
these images I get a positive feedback from the viewers. Whether or
not someone is willing to hang a picture on their wall, or if they care for
the horror genre or not, I find myself applauded for at least having captured
something really nasty. When I suggested to some friends that I should
perhaps make a new gallery for them, this idea was also greeted with some
enthusiasm. So here we are.
I hope you will enjoy yourself. I know I
will.
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Petra
|
One of my earliest ink drawings. I was a little
surprised
to discover I've been dabbling in horror for a long time!
|
|
The Stickman
|
A promo piece I did for a comic that never
materialized.
|
|
Biting the Hand
That Breeds You
|
A bit of humour in the lab.
|
|
The Eyes Have
It
|
I think this was the image that woke me up
(literally)
to discover I had horror in my brain.
|
|
Come Out To
Play
|
An illustration for a charity book to assist Pediatric
AIDS
research. You can order a copy from the
publisher's website.
|
|
Bus
Stop
|
He was late for the bus... and everything
thereafter
|
|
Primal
Scream
|
Maybe my idea of horror differs from yours, but I was
having a REALLY bad day and...
|
|
Under the Big
Top
|
... six feet under that is.
Not a picture for those who hate clowns.
|
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Artichoke
|
It may not be art but it knows what it likes.
|
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Inkwell
|
I wonder if Stephen King has one of these.
|
|
Vogue Death
|
I have always believed that death was more
than a passing fad.
|
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Outcome
|
A semi-abstract piece with a semi-horrific
feeling.
|
|
Bedbugs
|
Someone is about to have a nasty wake-up call.
|
|
Lollipop, lollipop
|
Something new under the big top.
Another picture that is not for clown haters.
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Peek A Boo!
|
He's just looking around for a playmate.
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Staples the Clown
|
This was the first of three pencil sketches I did one
week.
|
|
Keep 'em in stitches
|
The second - my wife was beginning to worry...
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Got Yer Nose!
|
It's amazing the things we say to our kids.
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Nostrildamus
|
He's living in a haunted house attraction a friend
of mine runs.
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|
|
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All images are copyright © 2001 Lar deSouza.
Please do not copy, alter or distribute them without permission and due credit.
The background music was a 5 second sample taken from Freeway "Main
Titles" by Danny Elfman, and reversed and played with in WinDat. The
original sound bite was taken without permission but with great affection
and respect for Mr. Elfman.
HTML© 31/10/01 Lar deSouza
