File this one, and everything I’ve seen by Baltimorean Eamon Espey, under art object. It’s always a welcome surprise when a seemingly mild-mannered person around town harbors such a vivid, demented imagination. His inexhaustible tapestries of cruelty and perversion may remind you of a modern-day Hieronymus Bosch; in these landscapes, figures stab and gouge with elated faces, and suck and fuck with agonized grimaces, dripping disturbed beads of sweat from their exertions. This and Espey’s Wormdye collection are essential purchases. (Posted on 2/4/12)
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