Jim Mountfield gets arty

 

© Aphelion Magazine

 

My horror fiction-writing alter ego Jim Mountfield has just had a new story called They Draw You In  published in the July 2019 issue of the webzine Aphelion.

 

They Draw You In came about through a desire to write a scary story set in an art gallery.  Not in a world-famous gallery, like the Louvre or the George Pompidou Centre in Paris, or the National Gallery or Tate Modern in London, or the Guggenheims in New York or Bilbao – all of which I’ve been lucky enough to visit over the years – but in a small provincial one.  A gallery where the artists whose work is on display are less well known or not known at all, where the artwork itself is probably variable in quality, and where the overall vibe is unglamorous and unassuming… but also unpredictable, because you just don’t know what you’re going to find there.  One place that inspired the story was an art gallery I explored in the Romanian town of Brasov a few years ago.  The premises were cramped and the visit was brief, but some of the things I saw were memorable – because they were slightly eccentric and odd.

 

 

Because I wanted to make the setting drab and ordinary, but also disorientating and disturbing, I suppose I tried with They Draw You In to emulate the work of the Liverpudlian writer Ramsey Campbell, who’s made a career of taking drab, ordinary settings and characters and doing disorientating and disturbing things with them.  However, while I wrote it, I found myself borrowing ideas too from the life of notorious occultist Aleister Crowley who, as well as being a magician, theologian, drug addict, mountaineer, poet, novelist and self-styled ‘wickedest man in the world’, was – yes! – an artist.

 

I was slightly dismayed after I finished the story to sit down one evening with my better half and watch a new movie on Netflix called Velvet Buzzsaw (2019) – and discover that it too told a horror story set in the world of artists, paintings and galleries.  Would it cover exactly the same ground as They Draw You In?  Well, I don’t think so.  I enjoyed Velvet Buzzsaw and particularly enjoyed its savage ridiculing of pretentious art dealers and art critics, but I found it all over the place in terms of its horror elements.  Things happened in it without rhyme or reason: one character was dismembered by a machine in a modern art installation, another was murdered by a creepy figure from a modern art installation, and another again was swallowed by paint that magically flowed out of a wall mural.  Hopefully, the idea at the heart of They Draw You In is more consistent and coherent.

 

Incidentally, the half-dozen paintings that appear in the story are inspired by real-life ones.  Those real paintings are Fix Your Eyes by Fiona Michie, Journey in a Carriage by Alfred Wierusz Kowalski, The Little Street by Johannes Vermeer, Fishers in the Snow by John Bellany, The Lark by George Henry and (obliquely) The Spell by Sir William Fettes Douglas.  With the exception of Kowalski, who was Polish, and Vermeer, who was Dutch, all those painters were or are Scottish.  So although the Caledonian art scene isn’t usually the first thing that springs to mind in connection with Scotland, it’s clearly had a big influence on the humble horror scribe Jim Mountfield.

 

For the next few weeks at least, They Draw You In can be accessed here and the edition of Aphelion in which it appears can be accessed here.

 

Yet more scary pictures for Halloween

 

Today is October 31st – or as it’s known in the Christian calendar, All Hallow’s Eve.  Or in the ancient Celtic calendar, Samhain  Or to pretty much everyone on the planet these days, Halloween.

 

Halloween is the time of year when, to quote Vincent Price in the Michael Jackson song Thriller, “darkness falls across the land… creatures crawl in search of blood… demons squeal in sheer delight…” and – yikes! – “grizzly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom”.  And it’s also the time of year when, on this blog, I like to present a selection of creepy paintings and illustrations that, during the previous year, have caught my fancy.

 

To set the scene this Halloween is an etching called The Lonely Tower by the 19th-century artist Samuel Palmer (www.vam.ac.uk/users/node/1506), which can be seen at London’s Victoria and Albert Museum.  It’s a wonderfully atmospheric piece that conveys both the bleakness and the mystery of the nocturnal world.

 

 

On to a picture of a terrifying monster – one of the most ancient and awe-inspiring monsters in English-speaking culture.  It’s Grendel in Beowulf.  However, painted by the Italian twins Anna and Elena Balbusso (http://www.balbusso.com/), it mixes to disconcerting effect the simplicity of a children’s-book illustration with the gory savagery of the oldest surviving poem in the English language.

 

 

Meanwhile, here’s a spooky item from the Scottish artist Fiona Michie, whose work can be viewed at http://www.fionamichie.com/.  It reminds me very much of the short story The Company of Wolves by one of my all-time favourite authors, Angela Carter – which in 1984 was made into one of British cinema’s most phantasmagorical movies by writer-director Neil Jordan.

 

 

Halloween wouldn’t be Halloween without mention of horror fiction’s supreme writer, Edgar Allan Poe.  And if you’re talking about Poe, you can’t ignore the great Irish stained-glass and literary artist Harry Clarke, who was surely Poe’s greatest illustrator (http://50watts.com/Harry-Clarke-Illustrations-for-E-A-Poe).  Here’s one of his most chilling pictures, a depiction of the luckless Madeline Usher after she’s escaped from her entombment in The Fall of the House of Usher.

 

 

If Poe was the horror-fiction king of the 19th century, then his equivalent in the 20th century was the retiring Rhode Island writer H.P. Lovecraft, whose tales of cosmic and existentialist horror also inspired an array of artists.  For instance, here’s a work by the English artist Ian Miller (http://www.ian-miller.org/).  It adorned the cover of a cheap paperback edition of Lovecraft’s fiction many years ago, but it perfectly conveys Lovecraft’s obsession with the idea of horrid and nightmarishly-incomprehensible things lurking just beyond the parameters of human experience.

 

 

And here’s another Lovecraft-inspired picture from the great French artist Philippe Druillet (http://www.druillet.com/).  Druillet is better known as a science-fiction artist, but when his sci-fi sensibilities combine with the macabre, the results are impressively creepy — in a colourful, comic-book way.

 

 

Moving on, this stark statement about the biggest horror we face during our existences – that of the passing of time, and aging, and decay – has always chilled my blood.  Thank you for that, Mr Francisco Goya.  Very recently, I reached my half-century, so your cosy and charming little painting Time has really made me feel good about myself (http://www.eeweems.com/goya/viejas.html).

 

 

And once you reach old age and decrepitude, there’s only one thing more to look forward to — death itself.  I feel this illustration by the 19th century German artist Alfred Rethel captures the omnipresence of death when you’re in your twilight years very nicely.  Well, not nicely – depressingly.  Rethel had more than his share of depressing experiences himself.  He was believed to have been stricken with insanity following an an accident he had during his childhood.  Also, he passed away at the early age of 42 (http://www.artcyclopedia.com/artists/rethel_alfred.html).

 

 

Meanwhile, for an eastern meditation on the topics of death and decay, you need look no further than this painting by the distinguished Indian artist Ganesh Pyne: http://www.contemporaryindianart.com/ganesh_pyne.htm.

 

 

A more up-to-date item now – an diabolic but sexy painting by the modern-day artist John Coulthart, done for the cover of an album by the greatest Goth / black metal band to ever emerge from County Suffolk, Cradle of Filth.  The album is called Bitter Suites to Succubi — I’ll leave you to figure out the pun.  Coulthart, incidentally, writes an eclectic and informative blog (http://www.johncoulthart.com/feuilleton/) and I never miss his daily postings.

 

 

Having started with an eerie and evocative picture by Samuel Palmer, here is something similarly eerie and evocative to end on.  It’s an illustration by the French 19th-century artist Gustave Dore for one of the most famously unsettling poems in English literature, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  Sinister, desolate and downright weird, it sums up the spirit of the poem perfectly (https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/c/coleridge/samuel_taylor/rime/).

 

 

And finally on Halloween night…  Here, courtesy of the San Francisco writer and artist Dan Brereton (www.nocturnals.com), is one dedicated to the ladies out there.  Happy Halloween!