House of FilthThe sun is hot, the air is dense with humidity, and the ticks are crawling up our pant legs as we tread through yet another overgrown field on our never-ending quest to track down and document the work of the “profane poet”, a possibly mythological creature we first discovered at the Rutherfurd Stuyvesant Estate. This canvas comes in the form of a small and long disused farmhouse. What color it once was, or if it were ever even painted in the first place, has been lost to the annals of history. What sits now, crookedly greeting us as we trek across the property, is a collection of weathered and buckled wood. It's form held together by rusted nails and likely the hardened droppings of countless woodland animals.
The only entrance to this humble abode is a partially-detached sheet of plywood which once sealed shut the side door. Pulling it back you are immediately struck by two things as you squeeze past into the darkness of the interior. One: It is very dark in there, surprisingly so considering how bright the sun is outside. And two: For being such a small house, it packs a very large and horrid stink. The closest to which I can relate the stench is to suggest that one first imagine the smell of a petting zoo. Then imagine rubbing your face in the soiled bedding on the floor of that zoo. That is rough approximation of the odor which greeted us. After a few seconds our vision began to adjust to the dark interior, and we are able to focus our eyes upon the familiar scrawl of the poet who we have come here to document. The handwriting has become a trademark at this point, and this former home is certainly covered in their work. As we step foot from (what was probably) the kitchen into (what was probably) the living-room of the house, we are stopped in our tracks by a sound both strange and frightening. A kind of intense hissing came emanating from somewhere within the pitch black of the room. We had unintentionally cornered some type of animal, and its only exit lie behind us.
As any sane group of seasoned adventurers would do, we quickly proceeded to stumble over ourselves as we ran out of the house in a panic muttering obscenities as we went. Once in the open air and sun, we assessed the situation to the best of our ability. It was somehow decided, likely as a result of of dehydration mixed with the intense heat of the day, that the best solution would be to “shoo” the mystery animal out using a tripod. Heading back into the smelly darkness we felt sure in our course of action. That is, until we heard the animal begin to shriek once again. Funny the effect an unknown, screaming animal has on ones confidence. We stood our ground though. We had come here to film this house, and we planned to do just that. Angry hell-beast shrieking from the dearness or not. Once again forming a plan, we decided to just go in and face whatever horrors dwell were to meet us. Tripods and flashlights clenched tightly in our hands, we crossed the threshold into the creatures realm.
The hissing grew in intensity, yet we could not decipher from where it was coming. The various debit that scattered the floor was a legitimate concern to us now, as the animal (or demon) could be hiding under or behind any of it, waiting to pounce. The flashlight beam moved across the walls and floor, the clutter of the room casting shadows that grew and changed as it went. It wasn't until the light was held steady that we were able to notice a shadow moving independently of all the others, just outside the area of the flashlight's beam, in the far corner of the room. Noting the movement, the flashlight was repositioned, focusing upon whatever the creature was which was now growling from the corner of the room. Even after being illuminated by the light, we could not make out what exactly we were looking at, though we did learn that it didn't take favorably to having flashlights shined upon it. Whatever it was, it could not be dissuaded from staying put in its dark corner. So, once again doing what was probably pretty low on the scale from “good idea” to “bad idea”, we decided to approach the distressed and cornered animal, not having any idea what it was. As we closed in, it's features began to take definition out of the shadows. It was standing upon two legs, hunched over, and was covered in a ratty coat of brown fur or short hair.
It's hard to properly explain what it feels like to be looking directly at something right in front of you, and still not understanding what it is that you are seeing. It's a kind of humbling experience, and reminds you that no matter how much you see or do there will always be situations in life that will come as a surprise. In this instance it came as a pissed off and screaming surprise in the corner of a dark and smelly house.
At any rate... We crept ever closer, and as we did more features presented themselves, and before long we realized that this creature was not that of fables of legends, but simply a very frightened and alone fledgling turkey vulture. Upon realizing this, it was understood that the animal in front of us was frightened far worse than us by this ordeal. Giving it plenty of space, it eventually calmed down and thankfully gave up with its unearthly hissing. The remainder of our time there it kept a very vigilant eye upon us all, glaring from its corner until we finished filming, packed up, and were gone.
This is an older video of ours. When watching, you may notice that it has a different "feel" to it than our current-day films. This is because the style of our cinematography has progressed over time, and our equipment has changed and improved throughout the years. We have chosen to leave our older videos available for viewing online to illustrate the evolution of our work.