Monster Cereals: Eating What Scares Us

If ever there was anything dependable about the nature of humanity--other than the fact that we will always find reasons to divide ourselves--it's that we will do anything we can to mentally protect ourselves from that which we fear. And because the ultimate fear for the human race has always been death--the great unknown certainty from which none of us can escape--it's fascinating to see just what lengths we will go to bury that certainty deep down in our psyche. Horror in particular is not much more than a vast exercise of this very kind.

After all, how else to explain why the people most obsessed with all things mortal and macabre take the keenest interest in horror? Simply put, it's a catharsis; a way of coping in a fun and deflected way with something many of us have trouble dealing with, but are nonetheless fascinated by. So when my brethren in the League of Tana Tea Drinkers proposed a blog roundtable discussion on the phenomenon of "cute monsters" in horror, the whole thing was a no-brainer for me.

The question is, why do we infantilize creatures of horror the way we do in our modern culture? Why do we tend to make them "cute"? For my money, one of the most profound and telling examples of this is the beloved series of monster cereals from General Mills: Most famously Frankenberry and Count Chocula, but also their occasional friends Boo Berry, and yes, even Yummy Mummy. Here we have creatures that once inspired genuine terror in the hearts of men (and women)--turned into tasty, sugary treats for children (young and old) to eat while watching cartoons on a Saturday morning.

Think about it for a moment. Let's deconstruct, shall we? Once we peel back the layers of cuteness, what do we have? A cereal made in the likeness of a murderous, mindless being stitched together from corpses, and another in the likeness of a demonic vampire who drains the blood of the living. A cereal based on the immortal soul of a human being who has passed on, and another on the mummified and resurrected corpse of an ancient Egyptian pharoah. Granted, that's certainly reading a lot into it, but at the very base of it, isn't it true?

In the case of three of those monsters, the origins in popular culture can be traced to the classic Universal horror films of the early 1930s. Were it not for those films, there would certainly be no General Mills monster cereals. Yet those films were intended as straight-up horror, to chill the blood and inspire terror in the masses. And even before the days of motion pictures, the legends those films were based on stretch back even further into time--the novels of Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker; and further still, the dark folklore of ancient and medieval Europe, in which creatures such as vampires were wretched, repulsive enemies of humanity.

And yet fast forward a few centuries, and we're sitting on the couch munching on their little faces, soaked in multi-colored milky goodness. The ad campaigns surrounding the cereals have turned the monsters in cartoon characters, voiced in the likeness of famous horror actors of the past like Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Peter Lorre (again, individuals whose job was to inspire abject fear, now transformed into juvenile comedy).

Clearly, the bite of the classic monsters (pardon the pun) is dulled by portrayals such as this. I'm not saying they still don't have the power to terrify us--personally, I find Dracula, Frankenstein and The Mummy to still be frightening and powerful horror films. Nevertheless, it can't be denied that creatures which were once taken far more seriously have now become safe, tame, and consumable by children.

Why has this happened? Familiarity is part of it, to be sure. After all these years of being seared into our consciousness, Drac, Frank and the gang are more like old friends than entities out to destroy us. There's also the type of thinking alluded to earlier: Specifically, our willingness to take something which frightens us and defang it (quite litereally) so we can more easily process it psychologically.

Since death is at the very heart of horror, it's no suprise that most monsters are linked very closely to it. When we break it down, every single one of the General Mills cereal monsters is technically a dead person. Quite jarring to analyze it that way, but also quite true. They are based on beings which do nothing if not remind us of our own mortality. This is the basic source of the horror they all inspire; whether ghost, mummy, vampire, or flesh golem.

And so we do what we always do--we protect ourselves from what we fear, in this case using one of the most tried-and-true methods. We take away its power by turning it into something which is a parody of itself, a harmless representation suitable for small children--so far removed from its origins that one really has to do some mental gymnastics to make the connection.

But the connection remains--twisted, warped and mangled far from its original meaning--yet still there. We've transformed the monstrous into something more manageable, but it's still present, if only we look hard enough. So the next time you're loafing on your recliner, a heaping bowl of Frankenberry and pink milk sitting on your belly as you take in ESPN Sportscenter, think long and hard about the gruesome, undead, homicidal atrocities that inspired your delicious, cavity-inducing breakfast.

Bon appetit!

HOLLYWOOD BOWL (Universal, 1938)

These great backgrounds of the orchestra sections are my first ever from Universal Studios and Walter Lantz. Digital source material is from the Woody Woodpecker DVD set - very highly recommended! These black and white B/Gs are very elegant. Have a good look!

SH-H-H-H-H-H! (Universal, 1955)

Wonderfully cartoon-ey!

DESTINATION MEATBALL (Universal, 1952)

This Woody Woodpecker cartoon produced by Walter Lantz just screams 1950s, and induces some irresistible nostalgia for baby boomers. I remember watching Woody on TV, even at the local "Starlite" drive-in movie theatre. Furthermore, the cartoon exactly captures the look of the era's supermarkets. Just like the "Piggly Wiggly" back home!

The style of the title card alludes to the to the Sci-Fi films of the era, but that's misleading. Woody is simply hungry, and Buzz Buzzard (supermarket owner) has his hands full dealing with Woody's appetite for mischief.

No mere backgrounds for this cartoon - the painted "sets" (!) are attributed to artist Fred Brunish.

The opening pan background is digitally re-created here.

This very clever B/G of Woody;'s wristwatch reveals the day not in hours but by a timetable of meals! 9 am is a stack of pancakes swimming in butter. Noon is a salad with olives and toast (more butter). 3 pm is tea time (how utterly civilized). 6 pm is dinner: a huge slab of steak, with french fries, peas, two dinner rolls (even more butter) and a big piece of pie for dessert. Now THAT'S nostalgic!

Next, a vast array of artery-clogging red meat in the butcher section:

An undressed chicken:

The sleek lines of the checkout counter, complete with turnstile and scale...

This loooong pan B/G looks exactly as I remember my childhood grocery stores, except for the trap door in the middle of the aisle...

Next, the bakery, complete with wedding cake cel overlay.

And the bakery B/G without without the wedding cake cel overlay. Note the paper doily!!!

And finally, the meat locker...


This artwork doesn't take itself too seriously, but is still stylish in a lean way. Great fun!

It's the Bride of Blackenstein, Baby!

Classical Universal horror met '70 blaxploitation last night on Saturday Night Live, and the result was Bride of Blackenstein, featuring Jesse Eisenberg and Nicki Minaj. First Jim Carrey's hilarious spoof of Black Swan, and now this... I'm sensing a pattern here, Lorne Michaels--keep it up! Anyway, just thought I'd share this little video with you, Vault dwellers. It's certainly the perfect post for a lazy Sunday (oh wait, that's an entirely different SNL clip...)

Thursday Guilty Pleasure: Week One

Because it simply wasn't argumentative enough, every Tuesday in October, to delve into the films we're too scared to watch twice, Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish and myself are also joining forces throughout October to bring you Thursday Guilty Pleasures, in which we regale you with the movies that we know we're supposed to hate, but we unabashedly love, nevertheless. So buckle in and prepare to cringe, as we get it all off our chests. Be gentle, please...

Van Helsing (2004)

Wow, you're still reading? Yes, B-Sol of The Vault of Horror enjoyed the hell out of Stephen Sommers' gauche, gaudy Universal mashup starring Hugh Jackman as Gabriel "I'm too cool to be named Abraham" Van Helsing. Am I proud of that fact? No. But I'd be a fool to deny it.

Maybe it's the thrill of unleashing it on my kids, who had already been exposed to all the classic Universal monsters, and so got all the references. Maybe it was just the coolness factor of having all those classic monsters in one movie. But whatever it was, I would be lying if I didn't say that this loud confection of a horror/action flick held my attention, and then some.

I fully understand why people generally hated it--it's approach is in many ways completely anathema to the classic horror cinema it's trying to emulate; the camp factor is totally off the charts; the guy playing Dracula is pretty dreadful. Still, there were just enough old-school Universal references peppered without, and a certain respect for the lore of the classic monsters, that gave my inner horror geek a treat and a half.

I defy you to tell me, also, that this film doesn't feature one of the most faithful representations of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein Monster ever put on the screen. Say what you want about the rest of the painful hamminess going on in this flick, but Shuler Hensley is magnificent in a role which somehow seeks to translate the creature of the novel, while still giving a nod to the 1930s movie series. And I proudly admit to the childish grin that crossed my face when he shouted out "Friend!"

My only regret about seeing it is that Sommers' previous helming of The Mummy remake for Universal prevented everyone's favorite bandaged ancient Egyptian from making an appearance amongst his monstrous brethren. Van Helsing is a deeply flawed movie, and not at all what hardcore fans of classic monster cinema were hoping for, but I can't help but have a whole lot of fun with it.



And now, I yield the floor to Missy, and her first guilty pleasure of the month...

House of Wax (2005)

Look, I don’t have a good excuse for having seen this. I mean, it’s got everything working against it. It’s a remake (ew) and it stars Paris Hilton (double ew). And I really should have had the strength to say NO! But I didn’t. And as such, here we are staring down the barrel of week one, and I am about to admit a few shameful things to you.

Thing the First: I love The Simple Life. I own every season on DVD, and anytime I am feeling a little bit sad, I’ll pop them in (season two is my favorite) and a big ole stupid grin will spread across my face. I mean, really, if you let these entitled jerkwads into your lives, you deserve everything you get, right? Right?

It’s possible you’ve stopped reading now that you know this shameful secret. For those of you who are giving me the benefit of the doubt, let me explain why I tell you this. In watching five seasons of this show, I developed a keen understanding of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. Mostly, I discovered that Nicole is the smart (and devious) one and that Paris has no identity at all. Because of this lack of personality, I thought, “Gee. Maybe she’ll be like Brad Pitt.* And it will be like she’s this blank slate onto which any character can be painted! Maybe she’ll be the greatest actress of all time!” What can I say? I am like a child, and I have great, great optimism. And that’s why I went to see House of Wax.

I was definitely wrong about Paris Hilton.

Thing the Second: I effing loved House of Wax. I loved it way more than it deserves to be loved. I mean, like, if you had kids, and one of them was like The Changeling or something, and the other was House of Wax, you would totally love The Changeling more, right? Yeah, me too. Everyone knows parents don’t really love their kids “the same but in different ways.” House of Wax is totally the DJ Conner of the family. You can’t help but forget he exists when someone as awesome as Darlene is around. (Well, until the later seasons when you have to deal with Becky 2, and then all bets are off. Wait, what was I talking about?)

Thing the Third: That CGI ending with the titular house catching fire and the knife separating the wax babies is totally like the most awesome thing in the history of CGI. And I want to marry it every time I see it, which is a lot because I watch this movie a lot, and I guess that’s Thing the Fourth.

Thing the Fifth: I would probably stalk Elisha Cuthbert, but only after that crazy garage guy chops off the tip of her finger because that’s when you know she’s a badass, and that’s when I realize that House of Wax is actually awesome and totally fun and not something I should be ashamed of at all.

Wait…. What are we doing here?

* Please note that I do not actually like Brad Pitt, but I do believe he has put in some convincing performances, and I believe that is because he is a non-person, and as such, he can become anything.

The Many Faces of J. Carrol Naish

Retro Review: The Cat and the Canary (1927)

I recently had the opportunity to truly step back in time and take in a piece of horror history--even film history, for that matter. Universal's The Cat and the Canary is truly an underrated marvel, and an influential piece of work that you owe it to yourself to see, if you haven't. Especially if you're someone who enjoys films like Nosferatu, Lon Chaney's The Phantom of the Opera, and Barrymore's Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (and really, if you're not, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be surfing Texts from Last Night or something?)

It gives one pause to think that not a single member of the cast and credited crew of The Cat and the Canary is still alive. This contributes to giving the film the feel of a genuine relic of a bygone age. This is a motion picture made literally a lifetime ago, and this only adds to the rich, thick atmosphere already layered upon it by the deft direction of the German-born Paul Leni (who would do The Man Who Laughs for Universal the following year), and especially the camera work of cinematographer Gilbert Warrenton.

I say "especially", because one of the things that most recommends The Cat and the Canary is the endlessly fascinating cinematography. During a time when film-makers were still discovering their art, and learning how to use the new medium to its fullest advantage, The Cat and the Canary emerges as a lot more than simply a filmed play--which technically it was, since it was based on the very successful early 1920s stage production by John Willard. The movement of the camera is brilliant, vibrant and only further enhanced by the expert use of tinted color film stock.

In fact, in order to fully appreciate the film with the colors in place, I'd recommend the excellent Kino DVD edition of the film, since many public domain prints of silent movies don't include them. The Kino edition also replicates the original score, as composed by Hugo Reisenfeld. Yes, for those who don't know, many silent films had specifically composed scores, written to be played lived when the film was shown.

While the epitome of the classic "old, dark house" horror movie trope, The Cat and the Canary also typifies the manner in which American horror cinema was not yet ready to embrace the supernatural--that would come just a couple years later with Tod Browning's Dracula. This is more of a murder mystery than anything else, but it is so stylized and has such delicious ambiance, that it crosses confidently over into terror territory.

Yet there's also comedy, and plenty of it. The whodunit-style cast is populated by actors and actresses who defy the very unfair stereotype of the silent film actor, emoting both broadly when needed, and subtlely when the moment calls for it. The intoxicating ingenue Laura La Plante is our put-upon protagonist Annabelle West; Creighton Hale nearly steals the proceedings as her cousin Paul, bringing an irresistible pathos and comic presence to the role; Flora Finch is the stuffy Aunt Susan; Martha Mattox plays the inappropriately named Mammy Pleasant. It's an ensemble cast that comes alive on screen in a way that may surprise those not so well acquainted with silent cinema.

Yes, the storyline, with all its twists and turns, is the stuff of genre cliche. But the thing to note here, is that these devices were already cliche in 1927. The fun of the movie is the way it plays with them, the way it takes all the ingredients we're familiar with, and can still dazzle us with something unique. It's a visually beautiful film, which is only enriched by the intervening 83 years, allowing it to be further appreciated as a snapshot of a time and place in genre film history.

The Cat and the Canary is an important film. I'm extremely glad I stumbled across it and gave it a chance. And I strongly encourage you to do the same.

TRAILER TRASH: Swamp Creature Edition!

The Lucky 13: Week Two: Creature Features/Monster Movies

Welcome back for the second weekly installment of The Lucky 13, The Vault's summer-long collaboration with Brutal as Hell. After last week's descent into the debauchery of grindhouse and exploitation, this week we visit one of the most traditional of horror sub-genres, perhaps the most traditional of all--monster movies and creature features.

Technically speaking, if one were in the hair-splitting mood, these two can indeed be separated into distinct sub-subgenres, with monster movies implying more old-school humanoid beasties, and creature features referring to more of the giant-behemoth-on-the-loose premise. But for our purposes this week, we're taking an all-inclusive look at the bizarre, other-worldy abominations of nature that haunt the history of horror cinema!

B-Sol on Bride of Frankenstein

This could very well be the most skillfully made horror film of them all--certainly of the so-called "classic era" of horror movies, in which, very often, they were treated as mere children's fare. Bride of Frankenstein is so much more than that. It's a sublime expression of cinema as art, wrapped subversively in the guise of a monster movie. For one thing, the film is tinged with a daring Christian allegory that only adds to the viewing experience. Who would've thought that the Frankenstein monster could become a Christ figure, yet this movie does it. Heavy stuff for a creature feature!

Bride of Frankenstein is filled with unforgettable scenes. Chief among these is the rightfully famous log cabin scene with the blind hermit. Parodied in Young Frankenstein almost as famously, this is nevertheless one of the truly immortal film scenes, and for my money may be the most emotionally moving one I've ever seen in a horror film. It's for moments like this one that the film totally transcends the genre.

Bride of Frankenstein is a film that is far more sublime and wonderful than it has any right to be. Filled with remarkable imagery and delightful performances, it is the kind of film you show to someone who has yet to appreciate the finer points of what genre entertainment has to offer. There is a handful of horror films of such high quality that one can literally classify them among the greatest movies ever made. Bride of Frankenstein is one of them. It's the shining triumph of the beloved Universal cycle of monster films.



Cinema Suicide's Bryan White on The Thing (1982)

These days I'm over moaning about remakes, but I used to get pretty angry about the entire notion. It just doesn't make any sense to me. While complaining about remakes, though, I would always conveniently forget that one of my favorite John Carpenter movies is, in fact, a remake in the most genuine sense of the word. Remakes often keep the general framework of the source material intact while taking giant liberties with the specifics, and that's pretty much what's happening in The Thing.

John Carpenter is a noted fan of the 1951 Howard Hawks film, The Thing From Another World, which is in turn based on a 1938 short story called Who Goes There. Hawks' film keeps the general idea of a frozen alien space ship, but throws out a lot of the short story's details in favor of casting a tangible villain with a hideous appearance. Carpenter's remake actually comes a lot closer to Who Goes There by setting the movie in a location as remote as you can get, Antarctica, and then pits a small arctic research team against a monster that it really can't even see. This is the weirdest part of choosing The Thing as my monster movie pick because when you get down to brass tacks, the titular Thing is actually a microbe that takes the form of the research team, occasionally revealing itself to be a nasty piece of bio-horror as it assimilates its victims. By the end of the movie, its true form is revealed to be a throbbing tower of flesh and teeth, but on the way, the monster--usually the draw to these monster movies--just looks like the rest of the cast.

Carpenter's flick is an examination of paranoia, and a spiral of horror that suggests that the craft they found may not even be The Thing but it's latest victim, and Earth is its latest conquest. Though the original Hawks picture is a monster movie by definition, Carpenter's version manages to fall just inside the confines because of its ambiguity. I'm in love with Rob Bottin's unbelievably nasty special effects, too. When the movie suddenly starts to feel like a body horror movie, someone's severed head sprouts legs and beats a hasty retreat. The Thing is colorful, completely nasty and is home to a brand of paranoia that is downright suffocating at times.



From Beyond Depraved's Joe Monster on King Kong

In the pantheon of giant monster movies, King Kong remains one of the reigning champions of the form, a king of the jungle in the most appropriate sense. It can’t be denied that this film seems to have it all: an engaging story, incredible special effects, and one of, if not THE, greatest scene of a giant creature’s rampage in a bustling metropolis. But there’s something that Kong possesses that other monster movies of its ilk seemed to have missed. King Kong has a wonderful sense of humanity, exhibited not only in the likable characters, but also in the monstrous form of Kong himself.

Willis O’Brien and his team of expert technicians worked wonders in their exciting world of stop-motion dinosaurs and beasts. The smallest of details were rendered by their deft hands. I’m still blown away every time I see tufts of Kong’s fur blown by the wind. But those are just superficial matters. Where the genius of the special effects crew truly shines through is during the brief but ever-so-intimate moments when the audience is able to look past Kong’s roaring terror into the warm heart that lies beneath his giant chest. This is especially seen during one of my personal favorite moments, when Kong innocently but curiously plucks off Fay Wray’s garments. The looks on Kong’s face appear so cleverly human. We can relate to him. A 25-foot jungle ape that we can sympathize with. How can you argue over the greatness of something like that?

But don’t for one moment be mistaken, dear reader. King Kong isn’t merely a sappy romantic comedy that has Tom Hanks replaced by a slightly more attractive lead. There’s red-blooded adventure and intrigue galore. And what’s a giant monster movie without scenes of terrible, wanton destruction and carnage? You’ll watch in rapt fear as Kong busts through the giant wooden gate that has kept him at bay for all these years. And who isn’t familiar with the instantly classic scene of Kong crushing his way through the skyscrapers of 1930s New York? Kong may be a softy at heart, but he never lets you forget that he is a titanic gorilla on a mission of death. He mercilessly stuffs humans into his mouth and grinds them into the earth under the weight of his colossal monkey foot. And as mentioned before, the craftsmanship of O’Brien is awesomely exhibited during the scenes where Kong wages hairy battle against the monsters of the island, most notably the snapping T-Rex.

This is the stuff that dreams of Saturday matinee boys and girls are made of. The climax atop the Empire State Building has just as much resonance now as it did over 70 years ago. It’s the last stand of a beast from a distant world against the forces of a realm it has no knowledge of. Don’t be surprised if you feel a lump develop in your throat as Kong languishes on the building as the airplanes rain their bullets upon him. This is more than just a monster movie. This is cinema at its finest.



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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.

Join us next week for The Lucky 13, as we peer into the realm of Demons, Witches & The Devil...

Visceral Visionaries: Ric Frane

Monsters, pinup girls and danger! Those three subjects, emblazoned at the very top of Ric Frane's website say it all. One of the most exciting genre painters working today, his work--in the grand Frank Frazetta tradition--has been featured on comics, games, books and magazines such as Horror Biz. Focusing on the world of classic movie monsters, as well as fantasy erotica, Frane has worked with some of the most popular models in the genre today, and his work is praised by the likes of acclaimed pinup illustrator Olivia.

I had the pleasure of meeting Ric last month at the Chiller Theatre convention in New Jersey, and he agreed to take some time out to answer a few questions about his life, his work, and what inspires it...

You've been doing art since you were a kid. What first interested you?
I've been doing some kind of art as long as I can remember. People always responded well to what I was doing. My parents never discouraged me. They even found a local place for me to learn painting. Now this was only hobby painting, but I was using oils at a young age and it made me not afraid to try other mediums.

Tell me about your love for Frank Frazetta. What is it about his work that captured your imagination?
We just lost the greatest influence in my life as an artist. I found one of his art books when I was about 13. I never saw anything like it. I knew right then it was what I wanted to do. I tried to copy every one of his paintings. I would do one a night after school using pastels. I wound up giving them to friends at school. Wish I still had some of them. Wonder if they were any good?
The greatest thing about Frazetta's work was his ability to paint so much detail with an economy of brush strokes. There are many detailed plates in his books to view. You can see just how he did it. But no one else can seem to do it. I love his use of color, his exaggerated figures, his compositions, everything. He was a master and will be missed. There is not a genre artist out there that hasn't been influenced by him.

Are there possibilities allowed to fantasy and horror artists that might not be available in other conceptual genres?
Well there, used to be. A lot of cover work was available for novels. Fantasy books usually had artwork on the covers more so than other genres. There is also work in comics and gaming. But that has all slowed down now for everyone.

Tell me a bit about your formal training. What was that like?
I went to the Antonelli Institute of Art & Photography, formally the York Academy of Art.
I was lucky--I had a very good art teacher in high school. We were doing a lot of the drawing exercises I would later do in art school. Learning different painting techniques was the most important part. Learning how to use the paints the correct way and different mediums you can add. Not that you can't break the rules sometimes. But some things are done for a reason.

Your wife is an artist as well. What's that like, do you get competitive?
Not at all. We throw ideas at one another. My wife, Wendy, has been the muse for many pieces of work. We've even painted a few pieces together.

You've done lots of different paintings in various categories. Do you have a favorite subject matter? Favorite piece?
I started out doing fantasy illustrations, but my favorite part of the paintings was always the figure. I love painting the figure. I'm a fan of old school pin-ups. I also love painting classic monsters. One day it hit me. Why not paint both? Two great things that go together.
My favorite piece right now would have to be the one I did of my wife and myself [featured at top]. I did it in the style I do my Monster/Pinups pieces in. Me being the monster. Wendy is the hot model in the leopard bikini.

What draws you in about classic monster movies?
Nostalgia. The older I get, the more I long for those days as a kid watching TV with our local horror movie host, Dr. Shock. Everything a kid loves was in those movies. Monsters, castles, foggy woods. I don't think any of them ever scared me. It was all so foreign looking. They all took place somewhere else at another time.

What is it about Bride of Frankenstein that makes it your favorite?
So much is in it. The monster learns to speak, and you feel for him in this one more than any other movie. And one of the biggest horror icons is born, the Bride. She only has a couple of minutes of screen time, but look how popular her image is.

For your erotic/pin-up art you've worked with many models including Tiffany Shepis. What are the challenges of working with a live subject? Who've been your favorites?
I work from photographs, so I really don't have the problems with having models hold poses. I usually have a few ideas for artwork I want to do and we shoot those. The model's personality helps drive those ideas. I've been lucky that all the models I have worked with have been great.
I would say the biggest challenge is that first picture you take. Trying to get things started. Funny thing is I almost never use that first photo idea. Once things get going, it's artist and model working together to come up with the best image. Tiffany is great at this. I've known her for over 10 years and she is one of my faves. Her face is stunning and she knows how to pose. Another favorite of mine is Asia DeVinyl. A beautiful retro pinup model. She's wonderful at posing her whole body. But my wife Wendy would have to be my favorite. Most of my best pieces involve her.

What makes a painting erotic?
Wow, that's a hard one. I guess it would have to be sexual without showing sex. That could just be a look in the eyes. Hard to answer without a specific piece we are talking about. You just know it when it you see it.

Any major projects you're currently working on?
I have a few things I'm working on, doing a series of pinups with historical figures, and also planning a series based on the seven deadly sins.