Characters. is my annual Halloween tradition of bringing an original (or originally adapted) character to life through multiple mediums. Each character begins as a mask and/or costume design, accompanied by a short text. Beyond that, I might employ on-location photo documentation, music, digital photo manipulation, performance, video, and/or other mediums to explore the mythos of the character.
Beckon
~ Video coming Halloween 2026. ~
Beckon, 2026.
Papier-mâché mask, book light, assembled clothing.
“Come join me and my friends at our table,” a small voice says. Though pallid of face and sharp of teeth, the waif’s quivering light promises the safety and comfort he claims. Nothing but the empty city surrounding you. Nothing to return to.
With one thin finger he beckons, and you are compelled to follow the gesture into the grimy shadow of the underpass.
“Just ahead,” the now disembodied light assures.
The unceasing mechanical cacophony of the factory complex softens to a murmur, and then, for the first time in your life, silence.
Dead silence, except for the scrape of the waif’s boots as they meet the gravel path. The streets are far above. Far, far, far away.
The waif halts.
A switch snaps on and a thousand dormant Edisons stir—and wake—one by one--
a bloodless face appears in the dark, close by, and then—in stages—tens, hundreds, five hundred…
A vast sunken quarry, piled high with corpses and discarded machinery glows before you. A graveyard. A banquet.
“What’s wrong?” says Beckon. “I thought you’d appreciate the company.
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Grinns the Gargoyle
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Grinns the Gargoyle, 2025.
Papier-mâché mask, assembled clothing. Grinns sits atop your building, and he makes faces; to protect you, of course. His faces are so ghastly and grotesque that anything evil that wants to harm you runs away in fear. He doesn’t even have to use his shiny sharp teeth. He doesn’t even need to lift a solid stony claw. Grinns has a natural talent for the art of pulling faces, because Grinns is naturally very ugly. Grinns has been forgotten by those who made him. The building he sits atop has undergone repaints and renovations, but, stalwart protector he is, he’s never left his post, not even for a second. “Someday I might retire,” he says to a passing pigeon. But who of his old charges survives to relieve him of his duties? So he will remain. Ever present, ever waiting; frightening demons until rain erodes his spiky horns, moss fills his sneering mouth, and all the assassins of time crumble his silent heart. |
Nod
Nod, 2024.
Papier-mâché mask, assembled objects / clothing, cardboard diorama, & photo manipulation. I have found myself sailing the river of crystal light more and more frequently. I feel the self I am when I am awake must be infinitely hungry, for though I spend what feels like many days hauling in great netfuls of starlight herring-fish, they never satiate my appetite, and I continue on sailing deeper and deeper into this vast night. I seem to have lost my two companions along the way but I cannot recall their names or how we came to be apart. I sense that I must be searching for them; this must be why, when I nod off, I always find myself back here, in this old shoe, in the center of this deep midnight sea, with no company but the Moon and an expanse of stars below. I will toss this bottle into the twinkling foam and let the current take it where it needs to go—if you find this message, I beg you, tell me how I can reunite with my siblings and if I will ever reel in enough stars to quench this deep emptiness. Yours, Nod |
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