Karl Baden
Untitled from the Contact Sheet Self Portrait series, 2001 (negative 1980), silver gelatin prints, 50" x 40", Lent by the Artist; Courtesy Howard Yezerski Gallery, Boston, MA
I was a horror addict at age 9. Movies, comics, trading cards…If it had to do with monsters or murder, I was there. Only one problem: It all scared the hell out of me. The greater my fascination by day, the more certain it was to keep me up by night.
Naturally, my parents worried. Dad suggested I ease off on the ghouls. His suggestions went unheeded. Then he declared all horror-related materials to be contraband, forbidden in our house. Of course, that only made me more determined.
Finally, in what was either a stroke of genius or an act of utter desperation, he made me a bet: Together we would go see the scariest movie around. If I slept undisturbed for the next week, I'd be free to pursue my weird hobbies. If not, I'd give it all up and go back to watching Captain Kangaroo.
We chose a triple feature. I still remember the titles: The Screaming Skull, The Brain Eaters, and The Stranglers of Bombay. I don't think we even stayed for the third film. I'd had enough.
My fear disappeared when I became a teenager. Must have been the hormones. The fascination, too, has waned. But not completely. I can still see it in my pictures.
