I have never been considered "normal" by society (although we could have an extensive chat of what "normal" means), and now I like it, but when I was a kid, was a total nightmare not fitting absolutely anywhere. The other kids were not scared of me, but kept their distance considering me "eccentric", with very strange likes and manners.
I remember clearly how much I enjoyed instrumental music, and artsy films at a very young age, and that I could appreciate the ballet and the opera (to mention some things). My father was a musician so when I was around 4 years old I could perfectly distinguish between Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, and I also could solve over 500 pieces jigsaw puzzles and I was really good at playing chess (which is ironic because now I totally suck at chess).
I also remember that for some reason that my parents could never figure out, I loved classical paintings, and I found a collection of books that was amazing because it had stories for children, illustrated by classical painters (they adapted their paintings to make a story out of it), such as Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, El Greco, Picasso, and many more. I had to have them all. So, even though I could not read yet, I spent hours passing the pages of each book, memorizing the pieces and of course, the name of each painter. My favorite one was Picasso's. So, I must have been around 4 years old, and my mother and I were in some kind of expo (I remember the scene clearly) and there was this Picasso's reproduction. I was all excited and pointed at it screaming "Paloma!" (the name of the painting). All the people there, that were adults stared at me with "what the f...?" face... and a man came to my mom asking her if I had taken lessons. My mom said proud/blushed, that I memorized them all on my own. Then I kept on running, pointing at different pieces screaming the name of the painter.
However, I had a very dark side as a kid (I am not saying that dark is bad), always interested in horror, pain, dark stories, mythology (that can be very grim), and many other things, and all those secret likes joined me the rest of my life, until today... and the question was "why do I like horror (to try to say it with a word) so much?". And I think I am starting to solve the equation.
The books of the painters were nothing... until I found the Doré illustrations from Dante's Divine Comedy. On my parents bookshelf. Black cover with a painting of hell and Moses... and I HAD to grab it. I could have not been older than five years old. I opened it and kept on passing the pages absolutely stunned and fascinated, and begging my parents to tell me the story of the Divine Comedy once and again. Hell was fascinating. Scary but fascinating. The sins, the demons, de sinners, the punishments... I also memorized every single painting. And for some reason as well, although the heaven paintings are amazing, they didn't catch my eye, nearly as the dark passages of The Divine Comedy.
I guess that got kinda stuck in me until now, because, although I am not able to hurt a fly, and I fight for animal rights and on every single cause I believe, and I also believe in changing the world with love I am a pacific and loving person but I've always been deeply interested in the darkest corners of the human mind... I've studied and read a lot about it, from essays to stories, watched documentaries and all kind of horror movies... and the theme still intrigues me even more. Perhaps where am I gonna get with all this, will remain as a mystery for my whole life. Who knows.
I don't know why but I had the urge to share this little story.
About the pictures posted in this entry... I've been doing this in my spare time. They are all based in popular fantasy characters, with my twist. Can you guess who they are?
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