Humanity’s constant ape-like curiosity drives us to rob the planet of all its mystery, scouring the sky and plumbing the depths in a desperate attempt to catalogue the wonderments of the world before they disappear forever.
In the process of our adventuring and seeking-of-answers, the fabled descendants of Dagon have been discovered. Revealed not as the horrific monstrosities Lovecraft leads us to believe they are, but simply a race of deformed fish-heads, obscuring themselves from the critical gaze of humanity in a hopeless bid for peace.
They walk among us now, these former denizens of the deep, disenchanted and cynical as the apes that raped their aquatic paradise.
Not being of an age to appreciate Star Trek: The Motion Picture when it was released I can’t help but wonder the effectiveness of this commercial. Surely a man, dressed up as a Klingon and garbling in a fictional tongue was most likely a fairly good way to market to kids. That is until they actually saw the movie and, lobotomized by an eternity of watching the Enterprise inch it’s way through space, were no longer capable of consuming solids. Perhaps the milkshakes still sold well.
In the future the old portrait artists will tell their grandchildren about how they used to work feverishly in Times Square back in the day. Now though, all those jobs are long gone. They got robots doin’ ‘em now.
The civilised world lies on its knees, a sickness wracking its body. The affliction causes a necrotising of tissues so perfectly uniform in distribution that victims take on the appearance of corpses long before death occurs due to organ failure or secondary infections. The crumbling remnants of academia swing from fatalistic resignation to maddened optimism in their addressment of what could be done to fight the sickness.
The vast numbers of doctors attempting to stem the tide of infection, invariably falling victim to the malady they treat, have begun to form fanatical extermination squads whose policies are condoned by authority. A notion forms, twisting the tenets of the Hippocratic oath to say that when the oath taker is subject to the half-death of infection they are obliged to spend their lasting days attempting to destroy the source of the contagion.
The paramilitary forces formed from the infected medical practicioners find themselves deigned to mete out persecution to the sufferers they were formally treating. Equipped with the leftovers of dissolved military forces, the Doctors’ Militia are organised to burn all infected areas and sufferers; a campaign which stalks across blasted lands, mirroring the wave of infection in an addled attempt at backtracking all the way to some imaginary source.
Meet Danny. Danny is lonely. Danny just wants to meet a woman; a woman who’s attractive. She should have features like eyes, legs, and, perhaps, automatic windows or at least a cup holder. Danny wants to take you out on a romantic date, complete with a candlelight dinner, roses, hand holding, music, and, because he knows how you women folk jibber-jabber, lots of talking. On the beach. He has a wild streak as well, once having run across the street without looking. He’s a wild man alright.
Watching this video I wonder just how closely related the man’s parents were or if the place where they made their home was riddled with high levels of radiation. I also wonder just how honest Danny is being in this video. Does the key to the city of his town even exist? Does he really want to talk or is he just looking for a real life woman to replace he crusty, worn blow-up doll? Lastly, do specific features matter or does he just need them to fill out the ever growing collection of body parts he stores in his basement?
Harma Heikens’s work combines mutant babies, prepubescent girls, pigs, and Hans Bellmer to create sculptures that elicit admiration for the imagination on display as well as feelings of acute discomfort. Of course, they might also just elicit a cry of “What the fuck!?”
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
