Art . . . From HELL

Halloween is objectively the best holiday in the world. It's the single major holiday that doesn't involve potentially stressful family gatherings but does mandate gluttony by way of candy or alcohol (age accordingly)—and is topped off by costumes to boot. Plus it's explicitly sacrilegious! To mark the happy day (and burn up some time before I head out; without fail, every Halloween I find myself in costume by 5:30 p.m. and jumping to get out and raise some hell, since, as you can see, I am 8 years old, and Halloween elevates eight-year-olds to apotheosis), I thought I'd post one of my favorite grotesque images from contemporary art.

Tom Friedman, Untitled, 2000, construction paper.

It's a perfect intersection of comedy and horror. Moreover, Friedman obviously applies himself to his art with the sort of obsessive compulsion you find in the best Halloween costumes. There's something approaching disturbing about spending hundreds of hours cutting scraps of construction paper in order to make a squashed, guts-exposed sculpture of yourself. If it's in the name of the macabre, I definitely approve. (It's currently on display at the SITE Santa Fe biennial, curated by Robert Storr.)

Later I'll post some pictures of my and my roommates' costumes, and maybe some crazy shit I see out on the street. Last night I came home at around 3 a.m., and though I maybe wasn't in a state to say with any certainty, I'm nearly sure I saw a naked man milling about in the large crowds by the bars near my house. See? You don't get that at Thanksgiving.

UPDATE: I would be remiss in discussing obsessive determination without an example from the Halloween side of the aisle. Here's my friend Justin as Bender from Futurama:

Nice job! I typically tilt the balance away from "skillful rendition" and toward "distastefulness."