familiar chaos, unnatural flesh
The dragon, in much archetypal european myth and folktale, is not a titan of fire. It is a worm. It is a crawling thing of deep watery places, bizarre and frightening, serpent of satanic chaos slain by a hero. To be a worm feels often synonymous with being unlovable. But a creature of the fringes can also do what is impossible for people. In the real world, as a real person, you could never have claws or wings or beautiful colors. You could never eat the witch’s flower, and shed your confining skin, and give birth to yourself in the scales of the lindwurm, and be an unnatural thing in a new body of your choosing. Unless you could. Unless you do.
Bio
cerata’s selves have been / sometimes are a ceramic artist, making unreal creatures and various fucked up pretty clay things. all of it likes thinking about nature and the unnatural and how the two meet, with a little inner child and a little sublime horror. she tries to take her time and make something worthwhile.
