Is that a monster under my bed, or is it me? Olga Abeleva’s characters, while verging on fantasy, are relatable. They occupy quotidian planes in moments that seem to exist in the psychic space that prefaces a disaster—flames licking the edges of a curtain; a scorned lover chain smoking woefully outside, plotting revenge; a cockroach scuttling toward an unassuming hand; a knife dancing between flesh. Almost as if each painting is a window into the same world, these characters coexist, unaware of the inevitable tragedy doomed to befall them. Sounds pretty scary, right? What’s scarier is thinking about all the ways in which you, dear reader, are unaware of the doom that’s waiting for you—just around the corner! – Rebecca Storm

In the week leading up to October 31st, we will be sharing the bone-chilling work of some of our favourite freaky artists, alongside a hair-raisingly festive little interview! What if you burned everything you feared down to the ground? A smouldering heap of ghosts. Is dominating your fears synonymous with escaping them? Bea Parsons’ work feels…

Walking down a dark slanted street in Queens, NY, flickering street lamp, the faint smell of compost. Suddenly overcome with the feeling of dizziness, anxiety, and nausea, you stumble to the edge of the road, sliding yourself against the wall, step by step closer to home. Your grasp on reality is loosening rapidly, like a rope…

Stampley’s world is a celebration of the dreaded Bitch, a vixen decal slapped on the bumper of a truck speeding towards hell, a murderous nymphomaniac she-devil behind the wheel.

A hot bullet sears through a glistening ice cube gouging out a peephole through which can be seen an alluring, anthropomorphic broom. This is the nightmare painted by Brooklyn-based artist Emily Mae Smith. Smith seems haunted by this broom, repeatedly painting it into different contemplative landscapes, as if she can’t escape it.

Picture a world populated peacefully with monsters—trolls, goblins, people with tentacles for legs, tiny alien people, or giant people coexisting with humans on Earth. Imagine: somewhere in some nondescript home, a demon sits mostly nude on the living room floor and, their children asleep, opens their skull from the back to calmly contemplate a sheet-wrapped corpse.

Welcome to the beautiful Xerox hellscape that is Kuato Ubiq’s work. It’s an aesthetic born from years of entanglement with the NYC punk scene, his visual work expertly shifting from show fliers to nihilistic futuristic paintings, to freaky animations.

Rhys Lee’s paintings give the impression of having been kept in a basement or attic for decades, destroyed by dank conditions, dust, mold and water damage, and then discovered years later, long after the passing of the subject, their colours still eerily vivid.