House of Filth
The 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.
Ahhhh!
Awwww!
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.