#synthography horror

[Update: Apocalypse in Pink part 2 is out now]

Before Barbenheimer, there was “Apocalypse in Pink,” the August 1983 theme of fashion/culture magazine SPECTAGORIA. The issue’s controversial imagery of Barbie-esque models attempting to stay gorgeous and glamorous amidst nuclear annihilation sought to, in the words of editor/photographer Sera Clairmont, “revel in the morbid absurdity of the new American condition,” an “anxiety vibrating underneath all our plastic smiles.”

“It’s The Hot Pink Cold War,” Clairmont wrote in her introduction. “It’s ‘Material Girl’ on the radio and ‘WarGames’ at the drive-in. It’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ interrupted by the emergency broadcast signal. We’re told to look sexy, dress fashionable, make money, and spend money, but be sure we’re just the right amount of terrified about the bomb. Get that Malibu dream home, keep working on that perfect body, sip cocktails by the pool in your little pink bikini and watching the stocks go up — but STAY VIGILANT! and for God’s sake vote Republican, because that dream home could melt into a pink plastic inferno at any given moment. Just don’t stop smiling as the blast liquefies your skin into bubbling ooze like a Barbie doll in a microwave - it’s bad for the economy.”

***Continued in PART 2***

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NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

“Apocalypse in Pink” part 2 (see part 1 here), from the August 1983 issue of SPECTAGORIA Magazine. Sera Clairmont’s celebrated underground fashion magazine was always scratching at the bleeding edge of culture, deftly navigating the trends of the Reagan ‘80s by simultaneously coopting and corrupting its materialistic obsessions. Never was that theme on visceral display than in this controversial issue. Apocalypse in Pink found Clairmont’s “Barbie dolls” trying to keep their glamour and their plastic smiles in the flames of a Capitalist Cold War simultaneously obsessed with materialism and annihilation; an America that, Clairmont wrote, “relentlessly asks women if we’re beautiful enough, if our clothes are fancy enough, if our pursuits are ambitious enough, and at the end of every night, if we know where our children are.”

In true Spectagoria fashion, what begins as stylish playful “nuclear Barbie” iconography gradually descends into horrific flames and melting pink plastic bodies, with only the womens’ smiles in tact on their smoldering skeletons at the end of the issue.

Reportedly, this issue was sent to Spectagoria subscribers in a package that included a pink lighter and a note that read, “when you’re finished reading, finish the job.” When burned, the magazine was said to ignite in a dazzling show of hot pink flames that sparkled and crackled, a performance art to complete the issue’s vision. As a result, Apocalypse in Pink is one of the most rare and coveted issues of the magazine, with no complete copies known to exist.

Most who have studied Spectagoria lore conclude that the exterior of the magazine was likely coated in a chemical powder that created the fantastical pink flames. But such a magic show has been meaty fodder for those who believe the rumors of occult powers and dark witchcraft surrounding the publication…

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NOTE: Spectagoria is an ongoing work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

Sisters of the Solstice. Sweden, 1975. Rumors swirled for centuries about a secretive community of women who harnessed the power of the Solstice for dark magic that granted them eternal life. Hushed whispers called them a coven of witches and warned of ritual sacrifice, cannibalism, walking dead, communications with the devil, and a bloodlust towards any man who would dare enter their territory… but was any of it true? By the 20th century, the Sisters had long been relegated to a dusty old myth, until photographer Sera Clairmont published these photos in her Spectagoria magazine.

Clairmont gave sparse details about her time with the Sisters of the Solstice, saying she was only given access to their rituals under a vow of secrecy. “These women have only ever asked for privacy,” she wrote, “and because they protect that fiercely, they are called evil. Are they practitioners of magick? Certainly. They give themselves to the earth, and the earth returns them to life. One cannot make such exchanges without sacrifice, but that is their way. Many generations ago, these women turned to the dark arts for protection when the world of men would offer them none. Men hurt them, so they adapted to survive. That the Sisters found the devil a safer bedfellow says more about men than it does about the Sisters. And as the soil grows their bodies anew, Midsommar after Midsommar, don’t be surprised if Mother Earth is taking notes. After all, who has a world of men hurt more than she?”

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NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

Selections from the pages of Spectagoria Magazine’s October 1985 “Vaporgoth” issue, which brought “old magick to the new wave,” according to editor Sera Clairmont. Bringing otherworldly darkness to the mortal world of fashion had become the signature of Spectagoria, but Clairmont had been in hiding for years and recent Spectagoria issues had been highly critical of the Reagan 80s’ excessive materialism, leaving critics wondering if Clairmont was even interested enough anymore in the superficialities of the fashion world to continue subverting them. It was a welcome surprise, then, for readers to discover that rumors of supposed Clairmont sightings in the underground nightlife of New York City were apparently true, and she had been gathering inspiration for a new vision of her occult horror style that kept up with - if not outpaced - the bright colors and neon lights of mainstream ‘80s fashion. As usual, the Vaporgoth issue perplexed some readers with elaborate set pieces and makeup effects that seemed to defy belief; but longtime fans only saw more evidence that Clairmont’s supposed prowess in dark cosmic magic was again hiding in plain sight…

To be continued.

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NOTE: Spectagoria is an ongoing work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

4th of July family album, 1950s-70s. The good ol’ days, a reminder of how things USED to be. Kids these days will never know the simple joy of summoning meat demons from the void dimensions to grill on an open fire. Back then we weren’t “taking selfies,” we were building bone golems of ourselves to bring to brief unholy life so we could ignite them into flames.

We didn’t need “apps” to have fun, we were outside celebrating America by self-immolating and roaming the streets smoldering with hellfire. I can still smell the burning skin! And we didn’t even get hurt, because we were just tougher back then; and also conducted human sacrifices that granted us protection, but you’d get “cancelled” for that these days.

No one complained if you wanted to fill the lake with the blood of cursed swine to bring it to a boil, and we weren’t shy about skinny dipping in it, heck we’d strip down to our bones as we gnawed on each others’ melting flesh - a little snack before heading home for barbecued ribs cracked right off the crispy meat demons.

As night fell we’d sing songs that might not be “politically correct” today just because they were the six profane recitations of Zasorael which brought forth the Araknoloids, but that’s just how things were back then: Men were men, women were women, and the Araknaloids were giant bloodthirsty hellspiders who lit up the sky with ectoplasmic glory when we fed them explosives. And as their flaming bones rained down upon the sky, burning our houses and cars and grandma, we weren’t afraid to say GOD BLESS AMERICA.

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NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

From the pages of SPECTAGORIA magazine issue 6, 1974. Spectagoria was a renowned underground fashion photography magazine surrounded by rumor and mystery. Founded by iconoclastic photographer/filmmaker Sera Clairmont initially as a showcase of her own work, the publication drew controversy for its dark themes and morbid imagery, which often used beauty, sexuality, and fashion as a means to, in Clairmont’s words, “let speak the darkness that surrounds us from other worlds.”

Christian groups in the United States called for a ban of the magazine, with Jerry Falwell accusing Clairmont of being “a witch and a pornographer in league with the devil himself.” Clairmont dismissed the accusations as “just more blatant examples of the sexism and double-standards that led me to forge my own path in a male-dominated industry.” But the boycott drew scrutiny to the magazine’s photographs, which at times contained images that seemed impossible, even supernatural, in nature. Some wondered if Sera Clairmont was related to Seraphina Clairmont, the famous Manhattan mystic who “spoke to demons” and lived at the mysterious Zorovic Building at the turn of the 20th century, and was rumored to have been buried alive in the building’s 1913 destruction.

Sera Clairmont went into hiding in 1976, but continued to publish Spectagoria until the early 80s, growing stranger and darker with each issue, fueling even more speculation that otherworldly powers were behind it before its abrupt end. No one knew where it was being published from, nor where - or *how* - its photos were taken. Very few copies of each issue of Spectagoria were printed, and today only a handful of scattered pages have been located and scanned. I will continue to share more pages as I find them...

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NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

One year ago, my "Meat Gala" AI body horror fashion series, imagining demons from Hell attending the MET Gala, went wildly viral on social media (here's a Buzzfeed article/interview with me about it)

My subversion of the event's elite glamour with nightmarish gore that commented on the grotesque opulence of the 1% really resonated with people, and as the first AI horror art to go viral in this way it was the first exposure many people had to the dark side of what was possible with AI imaging. It also led a lot of very angry Christians who inexplicably thought it was real (enjoy the comments here and here), and it also led to terms like "body horror," "flesh," and even "Cronenberg" getting banned from MidJourney (I didn't even use the term "Cronenberg" in my prompts), sealing the work in a liminal space in AI art history, unable to be recreated or continued. Of course it didn't slow down my AI horror journey, and the spirit of this work - both visually and in out-of-control viral impact - continued this year with my Valentine of the Flesh body horror fashion series.

This series is also special for me because of the subsequent conversations I had with MidJourney's DavidH in which I argued against their censorship of horror art, and he revealed a depressingly vanilla view of "art" and "beauty" that he sought to curate with his platform. What I had discovered, first with VIIR and then with The Meat Gala, was that the algorithmic opinion towards artistic beauty which made MidJourney at the time leagues ahead of previous AI art tech, could be subverted to make stunning and wholly unique horror art. The elegant way those early versions of the software blended elements together like surrealist paintings was meant to ensure that any prompt result gave you something that looked like beautiful art, but what I found is that if you pointed it in the right direction, it would do the same thing with blood and flesh and bones and tentacles, to spectacular uncanny horror effect. In the case of The Meat Gala, the effect was even more potent, as elements of demonic body horror gore were twisted through lenses of beauty, glamour, and opulence. To me, I was making beautiful surreal nightmares, and I was floored with the potential I saw and the ideas it gave me. But David and the other MidJourney creators saw nothing but a perversion of their software. They were, in fact, shocked by my Meat Galaseries and worried that its viral spread was giving the wrong public impression of MidJourney before it had even officially launched. They didn't know their software could make something like that, because they didn't have the type of minds that had ever even thought to try.

In that moment, when I genuinely surprised and upset the creators of the software, I was able to let go of the nagging feeling I had that "I didn't really make this, the software did" and feel true ownership over my AI work. After all, if the creators of the software didn't even know such art was possible, it went against everything they created the software for, and they rushed to try to prevent it from happening again, then I had truly made something unique to me as an artist, that would have never existed from anyone else. It was a new type of creation, but a very real and personal creation nonetheless.  As much of a bummer as it was to find out the creators of the coolest horror art tool I'd ever encountered actively hated horror art, I was empowered and inspired to see what else I could pull out of each new liminal phase of a rapidly-progressing technology.

More creatures of the night from the pages of Spectagoria Magazine’s October 1985 “Vaporgoth” issue (continued from part one here), a dark magick vision of the neon new wave from ever-mysterious iconoclast Sera Clairmont.

This has been an immensely inspiring aesthetic to play in for the past couple months putting these sets together. More to come... You can find some Spectagoria/Vaporgoth hi-res wallpapers in my free Halloween wallpaper pack and the NightmAIres Halloween bonus pack.

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NOTE: Spectagoria is an ongoing work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.