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ウワサ（マギレコ）

Wettbewerbseinreichung

My Top Pick!

Veröffentlicht: Nov 10, 2026

whitekopper

artist: gekidan_inu_curry 1monster, solo, clock motif, mouse motif, paper collage art, mixed media collage, scrapbook textures, layered papercraft, dark fantasy, gothic horror, surrealism, creepy cute, grotesque cute, psychedelic nightmare, melancholic, vibrant yet decaying colors, vintage textbook textures, high contrast shadows, patterned background, no humans, from below, dutch angle, wide shot, teeth, many teeth, animal skull, torn paper edges, exposed corrugated cardboard, halftone print, doily lace pattern, repeating clock face wallpaper, centipede-like tail, mask, hollow eyes View from a low, tilted dutch angle, so the creature towers over the lens: a single great monster built from cut and torn paper, standing on a floor that has been pasted down in overlapping scraps of aged textbook page and endpaper, its edges lifting in curls. The body is a scrapbook assembly — the barrel of its torso is a round antique clock case rendered as layered papercraft, its enamel face cracked and pieced back together from mismatched shards of cream and bone-white paper, with two of the numerals replaced by small glued-on mouse eyes. Its head is a mouse's skull cut from yellowed card stock, long and narrow, the eye sockets empty and lined with deep umber shadow, and from the muzzle a fan of paper teeth unfolds in several rows, each one a flat scissor-cut triangle of ivory and rust, the rows staggered and slightly misaligned like a bad decal. Curved mouse ears rise in layered rings of gray and dusty rose tissue, their edges feathered and torn, translucent where the light passes through, and the near ear bends forward as if listening. Its arms are jointed from clock hands — long, tapering black paper pointers with brass brads at the shoulder and elbow, so the limbs pivot visibly, one swept up and back mid-gesture, the other hanging low with its fingertips brushing the pasted floor. Around the creature's waist and throat, more clock faces are layered as collars and cuffs, small alarm-clock dials strung like coins, some face-in, some face-out, their hands frozen at different hours, all of them slightly off-register from one another. Its tail is a curled ribbon of clock-spring paper, coiled brass-colored and bronze, glinting, spiraling out behind it and ending in a tiny mouse-head silhouette cut from black construction paper. Behind it, the world is a nightmare scrapbook: walls papered with repeating printed motifs — rows of clock faces and leaping mice in faded madder and ink-blue, running on a diagonal, misaligned where the wallpaper strips have been pasted over each other, seams visible. Hanging paper dolls and lace doily circles dangle on threads in the upper corners, cut from old encyclopaedia plates. Strong one-sided light from the upper left of the frame throws the creature's paper edges into crisp high-contrast shadow: every torn rim and cut edge casts a thin hard black shadow onto the layer behind it, and the same light leaves the right side of the monster sinking into a black, high-contrast darkness where the layers disappear. The palette is vivid and sourcelessly decaying: saturated poison-green and magenta ground scraps flashing between aged ochre, tea-stained cream, oxidized copper and soot black. Halftone print dots and textbook plate numbers show through where the paper is thin, and the creature's own shadow across the floor falls over a printed diagram and blurs it. Everything hums with a sickly, melancholy psychedelia, at once grotesque and tender — a toy built by a child who has read too much. The whole frame reads as layered, handmade, and slightly wrong.

ウワサ（マギレコ）

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