Sunday, March 10, 2019

horrific domesticities

In working with the summer house series, and the same to a degree with other projects like taurus, I've been thinking about horror in a domestic context and what role that plays in my writing.  When I was an undergrad and read "The Yellow Wallpaper" the first time, I was struck by the ability of domestic situations to hold their own power of terror- or even gothic-oriented novels--the Brontes and Henry James.  I touched on this a bit in projects like girl show and more modern-set pieces like terrestrial animal, where the pristineness of the underground house is teeming with the horrific natural world that surrounds it.  Or all my work where the inside world abuts the outside world, when the outside makes it's way inside and becomes somewhat gothic because of that context--the bears that crawl through the shared properties of water and stars, for example. Or the role of the encroaching animals in the hunger palace.   The transformation into animals in girl show and in the bird museum, or something like strangerie, which will eventually be part of a future manuscript about monsters and monstrousness.

Also,  the monsters that exist within domestic spaces. Or develop because of them.  The crucible that transforms one thing into something else.  In taurus, the monster is less actual monster and more metaphorical.  The house and family that the monster exists in becomes a monster in and of itself.  I've been thinking about this as I work on my notes and a few pieces about the HH Holmes Murder Castle, where the hotel is in itself, wholly monstrous.  So then how does a house, in the context of something like the summer house, itself both breed monsters and become one?