By Sam Reeve
Ron English is an American pop artist and culture jammer extraordinaire. English’s work has gained widespread notoriety, and his likeness even appeared on an episode of The Simpsons.
Below you’ll find examples of his street art, fine art and also the bizarre toys he creates. Visit his site Popaganda.com to see more!
by Tracy Vanity
A lot of detail went into building this hell. A LOT!
That video reminds me of Marwencol, which you should watch if you haven’t already. It’s a documentary about a Mark Hogancamp, who makes an extremely detailed WW2 town called “Marwencol” in his backyard after being brutally attacked. The attack leaves him with brain damage and emotional trama. To get his motor skills and life back, he creates his own world which puts all of our G.I. Joe and Barbie play-time stories to shame.
It’s a really beautiful movie and the pictures Hogancamp shoots of Marwencol are magnificent. Art is incredibly therapeutic and powerful, especially in Hell.
by Tracy Vanity
Demonic Japanese Furbies, killer plush toys, creepy sex robots, and of course, music about hell…here is a compilation of 9 short creepy videos to kick off your weekend:
+1 full-length classic feature film: John Carpenter’s They Live!
If you haven’t seen this before, WATCH IT! If you have, WATCH IT AGAIN! It’s about a working class man down on his luck who discovers some special glasses that help him see the world for what it truly is. Those of you who are familiar with Shepard Fairey’s work will see where the Obey thing originated.
“Either put on these glasses or start eating that trashcan!”
Enjoy and have a splendid weekend Bizarros!
by David W. Barbee
My latest book, A Town Called Suckhole, was released almost a year ago. I was so proud of this book that I wanted to do something special. Special enough to involve a whole lot of extra work. So I made a whole line of action figures to coincide with BizarroCon.
A quick bit of history: I had a lot of toys as a kid. But the toys as they were just weren’t enough. I wanted toys based on my own characters, and the only way for those to exist was for me to make them myself. So I did. I set up a whole factory line in my bedroom, taking my toys apart, cataloguing the pieces, and then reassembling them to my own designs. My parents thought it was weird as hell, and soon they stopped buying me toys. I bought my own toys until, eventually, I put away childish things.
I started digging back into my toy parts when I came out with my first book. I made a few dozen toy aliens and people seemed to like them. I enjoyed making them, which led me to making the Suckhole action figures. This time they’d be bigger, and based on the actual characters in my book, and I’d give them away at BizarroCon so people would think my book was super cool. It would be a bubbling mushroom cloud of kickass, boiling my own personal aesthetic down into three-dimensional tokens of post-adolescent joy, lovingly clutched in the fingers of my fellow weirdos.
But there were a few hiccups. My master plan was to perform a reading from my book while my lovely assistant tossed out toys to members of the audience. The main problem was that some of the action figures came apart. The people still enjoyed it, though. Later on Cody Goodfellow and I laughed about how Jesco pretty much disintegrated in his hands. Still, as a creator, it was tough. My babies, strewn about in colorful pieces at an adult party. Dexter Spikes made it out alive, though. He lives with my publisher now, protecting her house from the underwear elves, vicious little creatures that come out of your drainpipes at night to steal (you guessed it) your underwear. Thank you for giving him a good home, Rose.
So I’m done making my own action figures. It was fun as a kid, and it’s helped me sell a few books here and there, but I’m running out of parts, and can’t keep up with the master craftsmen in today’s game. Like the guy who’s making characters from Carlton Mellick’s books like it’s not even hard. Like this totally poseable and morbidly obese ninja…
Stunning! I think I’ll stick to writing and leave the toymaking to weirdos whose hands aren’t made of hotdogs. Did you know my fingers are all hotdogs? Sure you did.