Dead Inside: Do Not Enter — Notes from the Zombie Apocalypse
Dead Inside: Do Not Enter
by Lost Zombies
2011, 160 pages, 8 x 10 x 0.5 inches
$15 Buy a copy on Amazon
Some of my favorite things about zombie movies are the details of the changed world. The dead grass, broken windows, toppled telephone poles, abandoned cars with missing wheels and trunks left open, boarded-up buildings, spent ammo shells, and other signs of struggle and desperation serve to create a fascinatingly creepy environment.
And that’s why I like Dead Inside: Do Not Enter so much. The book consists entirely of letters, hand-written warnings, and pages torn from journal entries that were written during the zombie pandemic. The notes are on matchbooks, napkins, photographs, advertisements, shopping lists, road maps, scraps of cardboard, and gum wrappers. Some of the notes are written with pen and pencil, others are written with lipstick, burnt wood, crayons, and blood.
The messages of the notes themselves tell the tale of the rise of the zombie pandemic, from tentative, joking questions about a “really bad flu,” escalating to confused panic, and later to grim acceptance of the new reality that the survivors now must live in.
In the introduction to Dead Inside, we learn that these notes had been found in a Dora the Explorer backpack. The first note presented in the book was written by the man who killed the owner of the backpack, a girl who was about 10 years old and had been bitten by a zombie (but had not yet turned into one). The man wrote “I opened her backpack and found all these notes and letters. This stuff is poisonous. No one in their right mind should read it. Reading this is like looking into the sun.” – Mark Frauenfelder
September 16, 2014
Aron Wiesenfeld (b. 1972, Washington D.C., USA) - The Return, 2014 Paintings: Oil on Canvas
Benjamin König (b. 1976, based Upper Bavaria, Germany) - Baummaenner
Yili Apricot Valley, China. Every year, these rolling hills in Xinjiang explode into a puffy sea of pink and white. As the largest groves of apricots in the region, this flowering signifies the beginning of the fruiting season, while also transforming the landscape into something other-worldly.
The thing about this is that sculptures like these in art history were for the male gaze. Photoshop a phone to it and suddenly she’s seen as vain and conceited. That’s why I’m 100% for selfie culture because apparently men can gawk at women but when we realize how beautiful we are we’re suddenly full of ourselves…
Girls don’t let anyone tell you loving yourself is vanity.
“You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting “Vanity,” thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.” ― John Berger, Ways of Seeing
Like a virus