When I was a little boy and my parents watched the movie Halloween and disallowed me to watch it but kept the sound up high so that the disturbing music and screams haunted me in my room, I began a fascination with horror movies that lasted through high school. I still like a good scare every now and then, and love dark movies and noir cinematography (off the top of my head movies from last year I'm thinking of Martha Marcy May Marlene and Drive). But when I had to dismantle my current sculpture, a portrait of a lovely model named Sherry, I had no intention of creating this odd story. But I stumbled on some creepy lighting, and the rest, as they say is herstory. I will tell Sherry's story in my next posting, but for now, in honor of Sharon Needles, and Halloween junkies everywhere, I present this story of the macabre. Goodbye, Mr. Hitchcock, where ever you are. If you can guess that reference without Google, I'll buy you dinner.