About the Grotesque

(Answers to "Pearl", "Night", "Pearlnight", "Pearlknight", Sanguine, the 'Goyle, and anything related to intimate relations with the undead...)

I am Pearlnight, but you can call me Pearl. I'm an autistic queer and webcomic author since the winter of 2021. My primary work is the webcomic Dancing with the Dead, it's a 1970's period piece and my love-letter to the vampire genre.

Besides drawing the comic I dwell in the quieter crevices of the web, play obscure computer games and dust off old sites with the company of my fellow creatures. My art is derived from my love of darkness, my experiences with mental illness and my own repressed feelings. I invite you to interpret me through my pieces; and make of me as you will.

  Oh, and that creature there...

That's Sanguine, they're a glittery grotesque and my author avatar. I created them in late 2020, and their design's not changed since. Well, if you ignore the previous colour scheme, which was a sunset-inspired red-to-purple. Sanguine is gendervoid like I am, and uses the same pronouns I do. They also have a personality like mine, albeit exaggerated to comedic effect. My friends know me as a conscientious, albeit obsessive individual. I come from a history of perfectionism and unease about my existence. Sanguine is this tenfold, even in their very design. The colour blue often symbolises sadness. Their horns are not a proud crown of bone and keratin, but instead they point downwards. They don't have claws, but big, plushlike paws. Even their eye markings give them a somewhat morose expression. Sanguine is a performance of self-awareness as much as they're an idealised form. I named them Sanguine after a line in our favourite childhood video game; the Elder Scrolls IV Oblivion. Amongst the game's more law-abiding guilds, the player can initiate into an assassins’ guild. When they complete the guild's initiation quest, they're led to a dilapitated house in one of the game's major cities. Once inside the house, the player needs to go downstairs and speak to a magical door, which riddles “What is the colour of night?”. To this, the player must respond “Sanguine, my brother”. Sanguine in that context is likely a reference to blood, but in the context of naming this Sanguine, it comes with a double meaning. Sanguine’s skin is a mix of the colours Pearl Night blue and Pearl Gentian. So alongside the prior allusion to blood, this Sanguine is also the colour of night. Although, the word Sanguine can also describe an absurd sort of optimism, which matches about as well as me and broad daylight.

Design thoughts

I identify with grotesques for my love of chimères and Gothic art. I adore vampires, but I don't see myself as one. I'd say I'm an onlooker, a prop to the vampire set. Their bombastic personalities and lurid backstories, while fun to watch, clash with my own. Instead, I'm more akin to a Castlevania enemy or a creature you'd see in a 70's toy line. It's modest, and some may say overly so, but it's right for me. Also note the absence of "fursona", "furry" or even "funny animal" as I speak. Sanguine and I are furry-adjacent at most. Back when I was a furry, I couldn't relate to other furries. I felt like something else.

The main appeal of the grotesque, like other chimères, is its sheer versatility. There are no real rules, and as a result, not all grotesques befit their name. One atop the Château de Pierrefonds depicts a mother cat holding her kitten, thus showing the grotesque as an exercise in cuteness. In the 1997 book "Holy Terrors, Gargoyles on Medieval buildings", Janetta Rebold Benson theorises about the purpose of a gargoyle's appearance. Her first theory suggests they symbolise the creatures of medieval hell.

"It is possible that members of the medieval Church recognized the potential of gargoyles to in-trigue, to entice, to attract attention and perhaps even attendance. The medieval preference for grotesque gargoyles is clear; they far outnumber the comparatively few realistic depictions of humans or animals. The frequently monstrous nature of gargoyles makes obvious that all medieval art was not intended to be beautiful. In fact, ugliness had a fascination all its own, and images of the macabre were very much a part of daily life in the Middle Ages.

Because it is extremely unlikely that there is one meaning for all gargoyles; various interpretations must be surveyed. Some are of limited plausibility, such as the suggestion that gargoyles were inspired by the excavations of skeletal remains of dinosaurs and prehistoric beasts, or that gargoyles were derived from the constellations. Rather, the key that unlocks all discussion about the meaning of gargoyles seems to be the great concerns about sin and salvation that prevailed during the Middle Ages. The preoccupation of many medieval Christians with the eternal fate of their souls, coupled with widespread illiteracy and the consequent emphasis on the instructional use of visual imagery, resulted in the creation of many monsters in medieval art. Evil was both an abstract idea and a concrete fact something very real that could be given visual form by artists."
- Benson, 1997, p.23-24

Another version of this idea is suggested by the French poet, Abbé Auber. Where Benson describes visual shorthands for evil, Auber speaks of man's triumph over it. If they don't represent the wild beasts of hell, they represent newly-domesticated servants of the church. Their display then shifts away from a reminder of sin to a mass gathering of war trophies, a shorthand for the willpower of man. Benson nears this conclusion herself; albeit as a manmade creation as opposed to a bound demon. Made for and by the church, this silent guardian retaliates by staring back into the face of temptation.

"Perhaps grotesque gargoyles were intended as guardians of the church, magic signs to ward off the devil. Amalgamations of animals have long been used by artists and authors to create frightening images. This interpretation would justify making a gargoyle as ugly as possible, as a sort of sacred scarecrow to frighten the devil away, preserving those inside in safety, Or perhaps gargoyles were themselves symbols of the evil forces such as temptations and sins— lurking outside the sanctuary of the church; upon passing the gargoyles, the visitor's safety was assured within the church."
- Benson, 1997, p.24

While these are the two main ideas, other texts suggest more humble, secular reasons for the grotesque. In a November 1912 edition of the Arts & Decoration magazine, one of its writers G. Mortimer Mark, discusses this concept.

"For the grotesque is always an architectural surprise, besides being an architectural joke. It grins down at us from a safe and unexpected perch overhead, high up on a column, or leers out from the shadow of a balcony or overhang, with varied multiplicity of facial contortion. It is obvious that the grotesque in architecture must be sparingly and judiciously used- being essentially humorous, it must realize that brevity is the soul of wit, and that if too much in evidence, it could be as tiresome as the man who is never serious. "
- Mortimer, 1912, p.22-23

Given many gargoyles exist as naked men spewing torrents of rainwater from their buttocks, this is more than plausible. One atop the Salisbury cathedral in England spends its time nibbling the cheek of another, who screeches in silent torment. If the hard work of a sculptor can't be adequately rewarded in financial compensation, they can still take amusement from their absurd creations. Another proponent of this theory is ex-president Theodore Roosevelt, as seen in his review of the 1913 Armory Show.

"The makers of the gargoyles knew very well that the gargoyles did not represent what was most important in the Gothic cathedrals. They stood for just a little point of grotesque reaction against, and relief from, the tremendous elemental vastness and grandeur of the Houses of God. They were imps, sinister and comic, grim and yet futile, and they fitted admirably into the framework of the theology that found its expression in the towering and wonderful piles which they ornamented."
- Theodore Roosevelt, 1913

These misshapen creatures, as absurd and unwelcome as they look, frighten things more frightful than external “ugliness”. I designed Sanguine, beneath the sensory and aesthetic appeal, to protect myself from the riptides of dissociation and self-doubt. Evil spirits in their own way.

But what would this page be without reference material? This section is mainly for any artists I commission, but it can be a fun trivia bit as well. They’re an ethereal entity, psychically projected from the dreams of their corresponding (and identical) statue. Physical flesh, blood and other such attributes are absent. It explains all the sparkling, too. Like many grotesques (and after some wondering) they are toothless. They used to have teeth but they're gone until further notice. Sanguine can wear clothes, but would most like the company of oversized jumpers and ghost-themed pyjamas. Sanguine can nurse a glass of warm milk, a vial of pond water or apple juice served in the skull of an enemy. If you're feeling devious, you may depict Sanguine with a block of cheese. Sanguine likes to haunt crypts, chapels, cathedrals, woodlands and anything else of that sort. Sanguine is too nervous to speak but can compromise by scrawling on chalk boards. All Sanguine asks is that you do your best.

  About this Lair

This site is my personal haunt, library, and link collection. It wishes to be familiar, the same way as a beaten, wood-panelled interwar house with the servant bells still intact. It wishes to be a place of both rest and intrigue. A place of progressive thinking and sentiment, awareness amongst the pining. As I've said prior, the lair updates at pure random and thus, doesn't expect you to check it often. Come and go as much as you please; I don't owe you anything, but you don't owe me anything either. We can exist on the same level and take our time together. Above all, and despite the cobwebs, I want this lair to feel homely. There's a lot going on outside of this place, so I hope this humble darkness can soothe your weary bones. If we wish to observe eachother, and you want to see beneath my veil, you can. Do be gentle though, I am shy you know.

•  Dim the lights, then turn them off entirely.
•  Put on some candles, real or electric. If they're electric, make sure they're those flickering ones.
•  Turn on some Bach (I personally like the renditions by Hans-Andre-Stamm) or a video of the Windows 98 "Mystery" screensaver.
•  If you haven't already, get a big glass of milk because that's what I like to have.
•  Begin.

"Do you do commissions?"

No, I don't need the money. However, I buy plenty from my best friend Lutzbug. They're a stunningly good artist with good rates, good turn-around times and a firm respect for you as a client.

"How can I contact you?"

The current method of contacting me is my comments sections on Itch.io. I try to check it as much as I can, but if I'm late, assume Dancing with the Dead is to blame. I'm on that thing constantly.

"What does your name mean?"

It's a word I use to describe Blue Hour, which is emotionally meaningful to me.

What happened to some of your other projects?

Dancing with the Dead gobbled up my originally-planned Vampire Review blog. I also made a webring at one point, but then I transferred ownership to one of its members and went away to do some other things. I doubt any current readers will recall them, but this bit's been on my FAQ section for years and I feel it's polite of me to keep it here.

What software do you use?

For general web-browsing I use Waterfox (or Pale Moon when I'm feeling impish), Ublock Origin and ProtonVPN. For my art I use Medibang Paint Pro with a Wacom tablet. Finally, for video game stuff I have GOG Galaxy.