I am obsessed with violence. I worked in a movie theater for seven years in my early twenties. I sold tickets and served popcorn; I was a projectionist while films were still on film, and, eventually, I became a manager. I've always loved movies, but that job immersed me in them.
My exploration into the topic of images of horror and violence began with a critique of the Western Canon of Art, which often overlooks depictions of violence against women. What does it say about our culture that a viewer can look at a work of art depicting a woman in agony and peril and only register a pretty object?
My research into classical works of art led me to question why some depictions of violence towards women were acceptable while others were not. My long history with movies led me to focus on horror films in particular. Contrasting "high" with the "low," my disdain melted into a celebration of gore and guts. I began to make work about how horror movies were fun, fake, and harmless. At first, in the process of exploring this topic, I felt a palpable disconnect between myself and the work. I myself have a painful history of trauma and assault. Out of self-preservation, I initially considered the horror genre from a safe distance. As I continued this research, my work evolved into a more personal investigation into how depictions of violence can be cathartic, allowing for safe exploration of violence and healing from trauma.
I was surprised to find myself feeling empowered while watching horror movies when the gore is particularly gruesome. The horror genre has a simultaneous gravity and lightness with its over-the-top treatment of violence. It provided me some distance to reflect on some of my own horrible past experiences. Processing trauma through fictionalized imagery makes it easier to handle. The camp of spilled guts and projectile fountains of blood allow a person to consider violence through a protective layer of humor. Being able to laugh at what once scared me makes me, if only for a moment on my couch, feel a little bigger and badder. Through its simulated sense of empowerment, I feel burlier than the violence on screen. Horror exhibits an obsession with the spectacle of the destruction of the body. It asks, “Are you tough enough not to look away?”