A flaneur’ s eye for the uncomfortable detail.
Review by Pascal Ancel Bartholdi
Among many mobile sites of morbid origins, a crowd immersed itself in conversation, oblivious to the zoophical signs, the portrayals of decay and morosity, the vampiric outpourings, the dismembered cadavers, the distorted genitalia, the subtle torture instruments, the inquisitional glimpses. This was a plethora of Victorian oddities, the same objects we will find in the Last Tuesday Society, the Natural History Museum, or some other tiny shop hidden in the guts of a city eating its own past with ferocity. We wondered in these sanitised entrails… The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari without ever coming across the solution to a gothic puzzle that pursues the primitive imagination…can this severed hand move again? Can this coagulated blood flow once more?…can this man walk again despite a missing head? There is humour and there are humours. We are partly seduced by the sexual profligacy oozing out…
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