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R.I.P. H.R. Giger

The week I turned 30, I was in Zurich with Jeral Tidwell and David Witt. We wanted to go to the Giger Museum, but our time slot of opportunity was such that it would’ve been closed by the time we arrived there – we ended up knocking on the door to H.R. Giger’s home. His cat came out to greet us, but other than that, no one answered.

We left a bunch of posters with the cat and took photos sitting in a evil stone throne that was in his yard – which looked like the setting for a very terrifying Sanford and Son reboot. Even the concrete slabs tossed around the yard to his shed were biomechanical.

Giger opened up my eyes to the decadence & beauty that can be found in the crunchy grime of the dark.

I remember playing Dark Seed specifically because of his work. Most of my sketchbooks when I was younger were filled with cutouts of photocopies of his work. His cultural impact on the art world was vast, hypersexual, repulsive and beautiful

This is a terrible photo of me being a creeper in the yard of one of my early inspirations. Surrealism incarnate.

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Look at that fat little face.

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