In a Darker Context -- The Cathartic and Misunderstood Nature of Horrific Art

Living in a world fraught with the fear of war, terrorism, ecological collapse, and economic uncertainty, it seems strange that in such a stressful, chaotic era, humankind now -- almost more than in the peril laden days of WWII -- shrinks from acknowledging the very terror that holds them in such a grip. Instead of encouraging the individual to work out said fears and social anxieties, modern society desperately tries to brush our darker human compulsions and instincts under the proverbial carpets in their minds. And many artists who work within the industry of darker art forms--be it literature, music, or graphic art of some nature--are ostracized by the mainstream community for their fascination with all things macabre.

Fear is an eternal human instinct, and one that will not be denied. With fear comes the natural by-product of aggression, or the need to escape the troubling situation. The common “fight or flight” response. If one draws back in our current times, it seems that a large chunk of the modern world’s population is in a state of mass denial -- metaphorically running for their lives from the current trend of global and social panic. I wager this trend of wide-scale paranoia, while denying ourselves an outlet for working out our fears, pain, and aggressions, is an unhealthy course for humanity to follow in the long run.

An animal can only back so far into a corner before it will fight for its survival. In the case of humanity, we can only deny our fears, our need to work out the darker questions and compulsions of the human psyche, for so long before these emotions, questions, and terrors build up in our minds and systems, poisoning us and impeding our growth as an intelligent species. In this world of explosive material and scientific expansion, we have become arrogant and complacent in regards to the yin and yang, essential balance of the human condition.

While in a University lecture in my second year, our professor was discussing Milton’s views on censorship in the seventeenth century, and how he was adamantly opposed to Parliament censoring books they deemed to be of an unsuitable nature. Milton’s argument was that repression led to obsession.[i] With this radical view for his time, Milton asked: How can we know true evil if we cannot put a face to it? If our people have never experienced evil in any form, how can they separate evil from good, and how will they know how to be pious and prudent if they cannot envision what is low and base?[ii]

A lifelong fan of horror literature and film, as well as obscure, darker forms of music, this lecture in particular stuck with me. I found myself vehemently agreeing with Milton’s views on anti-censorship, and the necessity for freedom of speech and thought, and that quote has never left me. In fact, I have used it in personal debates with people who do not understand the cathartic nature of horrific art, explaining that if we do not explore and question the darker, as well as the lighter aspects of our being, then we cannot fully know ourselves. If we leave one vital part of our consciousness uncharted, how can we identify the negative and positive elements of our personality?

Growing up with an emotionally and physically abusive father, I experienced the darker side of the human psyche at a young age. Although I do not blame my father for his violent actions toward me -- for he too came from an abusive household and had little chance to deal with his own personal demons, which led to his cycle of aggression -- I quickly learned how to look at life with realistic, if somewhat cynical, eyes. I matured young in this dysfunctional environment, and horrific art forms became my escape; a safe, comfortable place to work out the horrors of my personal life. Luckily for me, my parents were always supportive of my love of horror literature and film, and I do believe my enjoyment of the tragic, grim stories found in this world of chilling imagination saved my life, and my sanity.

My fascination with the macabre began at the age of four when, while watching afternoon programs, I stumbled across the 1970’s version of Dracula, starring Frank Langella. I sat transfixed in front of our console television, my tiny mouth falling open in both curiosity and repulsion as I watched Renfield dine on insects. My interests did not fixate on the suave Count, but rather I was mesmerized by the attraction/repulsion that pulled at my imagination, the dichotomy of this strange thrill, as I watched Dracula’s right-hand minion satiate his disgusting appetite. My grandmother shuddered, asking my mother why she was allowing me to watch such a terrible movie. My mother simply smiled and told her that I was enjoying myself.

The love of all things dark and foreboding followed me into my teen years, joined by the love for music of a haunting, often heavier and obscure, nature. Surrounding myself with grisly or aggressive art forms became a vital cathartic outlet for me, especially as I entered a confusing, and emotionally twisting, time of my life. I became a voracious reader of such writers as King, Koontz, Barker, Rice, and Lovecraft. They transported me to wondrous, terrifying realms of imagination. Their writing made me think, and it encouraged me to pursue my own literary dreams. I wanted to paint grotesque yet beautiful images with words.

On the page, my goal became a focused one--to capture the dichotomy of repulsion/attraction. To illustrate the great ironies of life: social castes when governments claim we are all equal; the generosity and courage found in the poverty-stricken and downtrodden; the many injustices of the corporate world, when these very higher ups claim they are concerned for the well-being of the average citizen. A fire was ignited in my belly, and that was the burning desire to write out my own perspective on the page; to share my own perceptions of society and its injustices; to work out my own personal demons, through the weaving of haunting, gruesome, thought-provoking tales of fiction.

Home schooled after my thirteenth year, I picked up the pen soon after I left the public education system. After studies were finished, I broke out my electric typewriter and tapped away at the keyboard for hours. Spending extra time at home with my dad did bring added tension into my life. But now, I had both a place to escape and the means to empower myself with the written word. Behind the keys of that aged word-processor, I created my own worlds, shaped my own raw thoughts and views. Writing horror tales gave me something reading them couldn’t; it gave me self worth and self esteem; it made me question the social structures I lived within--most importantly, it armed me with the means to individually interpret things, and thus, gave me the means to think for myself.

Through my love of sinister settings and terrifying creatures, another fascination emerged--another passion--and that desire was the all-consuming admiration for the written word in various forms. As I moved through my teens, I discovered Shakespeare and Byron, and to this day I remain an ardent fan of the Renaissance and Romantic period. What surprises me most, when I look back and read works from these literary periods, is the amount of grim, supernatural, and often gory images in these pieces. Byron seems to write of impending end times in his poem Darkness, Blake questions the movement from innocence to corruption in his work The Book of Thel, and Shakespeare’s plays often included bloody battles, deceit and treachery, and ghostly visitors. So why, in our current literary world, do we frown so harshly on horrific art? Personally speaking, I don’t know if this positive love of language, and my deep-seated need to fight for the right of freedom of speech, would have been ignited in me without that initial spark fired by horror films and horror literature.

Despite the fact that all of my personal experiences within the community of horrific art have been positive ones, I still run into the naysayer who will denounce the therapeutic and cathartic nature of dark artistic expression, and this archaic attitude never ceases to astound me. While opinions toward horror literature, macabre illustrations, and dark music are changing, the controversies over alternative art forms that explore our aggression, anxieties, and our personal and social demons still abound. The field of thought that subscribes to the theory of violence depicted in art creating violence in reality still exists.

After three years, immersed within the horror community as a writer and editor, I have found no validation for this antiquated belief. In fact, all of my experiences point to the contrary, and most of the individuals I have encountered within the horror art industry will cite their love of horror--both the creation and the enjoyment of another’s work--has served as an essential outlet to stymie their anger and fears, not encourage them. The art form used by the individual is a cultural response to personal and social injustices perceived; it is neither the problem nor the creator of feral compulsions, but rather, it is the resolution, and a positive peaceful form of revolution against cruelties witnessed and experienced.

While preparing to write this essay, I posed the topic I had chosen to the members of my message board, Dark Prose. Kevin Hurtack, a writer and illustrator within the horror and speculative literature community, posed an excellent example of how horror literature addresses controversial issues within society -- both long-held debates and new concerns that arise through our current advancements -- using Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein:

"Take Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It was controversial work because it dealt with mankind making life, and that life being horrendously flawed. But more so because it was seen as man trying to do God’s work. It was a social commentary about the rapid advancements we were making in technology and science. About how perhaps all this new knowledge and equipment could be dangerous if used incorrectly or for malignant agendas... Frankenstein is still relevant today with the attempts to clone and use stem cell research."[iii]

Universal fears and new fears that arise from human advancements; anxieties that inevitably arise with rapid, social change and radical, recent environmental changes--not only does horrific art allow us to pull out these very terrors and examine them through our chosen creative channel, horrific art also acts as a mental cleanser of sorts, analyzing not only our fears through the power of artistic creation, but also eliminating our excess anger, paranoia, and the subsequent rise of aggression that ultimately results when a being’s sense of entrapment and powerlessness increases. Dark art forms allow us to pull out our disturbing thoughts, our niggling doubts, our fury at injustice, and interpret these questions and concerns through our talent with a paintbrush, the stringing of words, or perhaps a haunting and disturbing melody. By using our focus of will, we work out the societal concerns that trouble us, and we purge the darkest corners of our minds.

As a writer of horror, and other forms of underground literature including erotic(a) and speculative, my greatest fear, with our recent rise of paranoia concerning anything that slightly deviates from the accepted ‘norms,’ is the threat of censorship; the loss of our integral right to freedom of speech. About a year ago now, I came across a story, circulating in one of my online horror communities, regarding a young man in high school, living in the southern states of America, who was expelled for writing a short story in class that contained a zombie, along with some rather gory scenes. A collective of horror authors and artists, who resided quite close to the youth, banded together in an effort to offer support to this individual, going as far as to appeal for the boy’s right to return to school. While the expulsion was upheld, this young man was extended a hand in any future creative efforts he might pursue within dark art.

I found myself shaking my head at the overzealous and hasty reaction of this secondary school’s administration, and applauding my friends for their kind-hearted extension of support to this young man. Instead of banning this youth’s creative compulsions, shaming and ostracizing him for his natural creative affinity toward horrific art, why not encourage this desire to create with words? And if the teacher and administration did harbor genuine concern for this boy’s mental state after reading his grisly tale, why wasn’t a tactful meeting called with the young man to assess his state of mind, and any possibilities of abuse? Instead, this child was persecuted for his natural talents, shamed as if he had committed a crime. I felt a chill go through me when I read of this event, and witch trials from our brutal, superstitious past wafted through my thoughts.

Will modern society return to the days when one was persecuted for being different, for living an alternative lifestyle? If we take away an individual’s freedom to sing, write, create the art that they choose, what freedoms will face the chopping block next? Will we return to the days of segregation for religious affiliation, race, or sexual preference? If governments take away our right to freedom of speech, our right to interpret the world and its injustices, anxieties, and advancements, then we ignite the fuse on a lethal powder keg--a build-up of unshed negative emotions. And if humanity’s darker compulsions and deepest concerns lack an outlet, some individuals will most assuredly seek out a release of physical and destructive means for their repressed rage.

It is well-known that humans brought together for the love of a shared goal enforces a strong sense of empowerment and camaraderie. How can such a bonding, as a result of this common interest, be a negative accomplishment? None of the people in the horror community I mentioned knew the boy expelled from his school for a controversial horror tale, yet none of them hesitated to get behind the youth when they learned of his plight and his love of horror. I belong to a great deal of forums and groups within the dark art community--along with groups in other forms of alternative literature--and I have witnessed the power of people uniting in these literary fields, time and time again. Within the three years I’ve belonged to the dark art industry, I cannot believe the growth, talent, and potential I have witnessed in these controversial art forms. Not to mention the things I have learned regarding the publishing industry from helpful, like-minded authors, always willing to lend a hand to a serious fledgling embarking on the macabre craft of penning a grisly, thought-provoking tale. Again I ask, how can these positive aspects I have mentioned be a negative thing in the mainstream view?

The problem is, these very people who would censor horrific artists do not take the time to learn about the very art forms they are quick to condemn; nor do they take the time to acquaint themselves with artists of darker creative forms. Much as Milton pointed out so long ago, I must ask of those who would now take away our freedom to enjoy a macabre world of limitless imagination: How can you know to condemn dark, or controversial, art forms if you have never experienced them, and you have no idea what their message is or what they entail? More times than not, horrific art forms are about empowering the individual, and asking the hard questions regarding our very human existence (Who are we? Why are we here? And where did we come from?). Dark art encourages critical thought; it challenges the mind; it forces one to think, and to analyze oneself internally -- spiritually.

Look to Scandinavia where, right now, a dark cultural art form is rising, and currently spilling over on to Western shores. This haunting, grim musical phenomenon is known as Black Metal: an art form that includes harsh, aggressive vocals, as well as aggressive, high-endurance arrangements for drum and guitar accompaniment. This musical movement ranges from these extreme forms mentioned, to more melodic, atmospheric works by Black Metal bands that incorporate experimental keyboards, and other forms of accompaniment, in their songs. Lyrics are usually elusive, darkly poetic, and thought-provoking.

In a culture where younger generations now seek out remnants of their pagan past, battling with modern, accepted norms of Christianity--in Finland and Norway predominantly--Black Metal has become a way of life form those who play it; and a way to define themselves in a bleak climatic environment, where political stagnation encourages their need for rebellion and a society’s need for social change. Like horror literature, this musical and socio-political movement represents the banding of like-minded individuals for a common purpose, which includes empowerment of the individual, restructuring their pagan roots and connection to Asatru (a pagan faith that follows Norse mythology), and rebelling against Scandinavia’s accepted social standards.

While the mere word rebellion conjures unsavory images in the minds of governments, is this act of social change not necessary to stir up the current atmosphere of political stagnation within these Northern European countries? Throughout history, has necessary social change not occurred through violent or controversial means? We have only to look to the French Revolution, the American Revolution, and World War Two for the answer.

No, I am certainly not advocating violence to acquire needed social change, but what I am advocating is the right to freedom of speech, and revolutionary creative ideas; the right of the individual to experiment with his or her art form. After all, it is through revolutionary thought forms and new ideas that change first ripples in the fabric of human social structures. An experimental art form, or a revolutionary thought shared, plants the first seed to vital mental, social, and emotional growth. Without innovative, challenging thoughts and ideas, human civilizations would stagnate and eventually collapse. Although we fear those controversial thoughts that make us ask questions of ourselves and the larger picture, they are important to us if we are to survive as a species. By censoring those ideas that frighten us, we handicap our psyche’s ability for balanced mental growth. We cannot know good if we do not know evil.

As long as we are a creature of finite existence, there will always be death, decay, and disease, as well as all the positive aspects of our human condition. If we focus solely on the joyful elements to our existence, how will we know and conceive terror or sadness when it occurs in our lives? How will we deal with these grim necessities of biological life, if we cannot identify them and are not prepared to deal with them?

As Milton pointed out so long ago, repression does, indeed, lead to obsession, but I will go one step further than that: censorship of natural human curiosity, of our need to explore and interpret our world through controversial artistic devices that ask the harder questions of our existence, will lead to the stagnation of new concepts and revolutionary ideas within the human race, and thus, will also lead to our eventual decline. Within the world of horrific art, I hope to work against that very stagnation, for as Lord Byron pointed out so long ago: “But words are things, and a small drop of ink,/falling like dew, upon a thought produces/that which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.”[iv] With horrific, carefully woven stories I hope to do just that--open people’s minds, and make people think.

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Footnotes

1 John Milton, “Aeropagitica,” The Longman Anthology of British Literature, ed. David Damrosch (Toronto: Longman, 2003) 1835-1836.

2 John Milton, “Aeropagitica,” The Longman Anthology of British Literature, ed. David Damrosch (Toronto: Longman, 2003) 1834-1836.

3 Kevin Hurtack, “Wondering if you forest dwellers can help me out,” Dark Prose April 2006 .

4 Lord George Gordon Byron, quote, Writer’s Digest 85 November 2005: 10.

You can find Ms. Bohmer’s work in Wicked Karnival - Halloween Horrors, Chainsaw Magazine, and FEAR. As L. Bohmer she pens most of her erotic works, which can be found at Tit-Elation, Sensual Venus, LUST and Ruthie's Club. Louise also works as a freelance editor for Whiskey Creek Press and Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid and teaches writing workshops through The International Order of Horror Professionals and Scribe and Quill. You may also visit Louise at MySpace.