In summary, Ms. Hendrickx stole photos from artists (doll sculptors, painters, and photographers) and photoshopped the crap out of them. Okay, technically she “learned ninja Illustrator skills” and vector traces & overpaints, but to me, that’s the same as photoshopping the crap out of a stolen photograph.

And this isn’t just a fangirl hobby of hers, this is her career. She is an arteest. She has loads of gallery shows, prints selling for upwards of a grand, clothing deal with Fornarina, laptop and iPhone skins at Infectious, has a stolen doll photo on the cover of a Taschen calendar, has done work for Sony for Playstation, etc.

The Arteest says that all of her characters come right out of her magical brain. The gallery curators and the folks that bought her work ought to be pissed off: they were conned.

To save you some link-clicking, here are a couple of examples. These are the faces from the source images, Mijn’s final product, and overlays proving that the source images were the foundation on which she painted.

I snagged both of these demonstrations from Radiotrash’s site, which is the repository of information and evidence. Radio/Nic and the gang at DoD (doll forum) have done an incredible job with this whole situation.

Doll sculpted by Zoukei-mura for Volks, photographed and owned by Kallisti (who also owns and photographed the doll on the Taschen cover):

Doll sculpted by Gentaro Araki for Alchemic Labo – Unoa Lusis; again, owned and photographed by Kallisti.

Pretty damning.

Kallisti’s a pal of mine. She’s by no means the only artist whose work Mijn stole, but it seems that she’s a favorite source (that Playstation stuff? One is an Elfdoll Soah, sculpted by Rainman, photographed by Kallisti, swiped by Mijn.) There’s good reason for that: Kallisti/Blastmilk’s doll photography is freaking awesome.

Anyway, this is the really comical bit. I’m not making this up.

1. Kallisti photographed a sculpture.
2. Mijn stole the photograph, painted over it, sold it as original work.

3. … and then did it a few more times for good measure. Same photo base.

4. Fashion label Fornarina picked up Mijn and the painted-over photo of a sculpture is printed on shirts.
5. -
-
wait for it – because this is fucking funny, people -
…
5. Fornarina, in order to help market the line, MAKES A SCULPTURE! Of the print of the painting on the photo of the sculpture!

… and then there’s dancing and parasols and some shit at the fashion show, too.

AhahahahaHOOboy. This is when lies come back and bite you in the ass something wicked.

From her Myspace: “I was convinced very early on that reality is what you want it to be.”

That’s called “being fucking delusional,” thar, dollface. Reality: BUSTED.

Also testing Gravatars and threaded commenting.

Sweet screaming jaysus could I go for a big greasy breakfast right now. Just sayin’.

THURSDAY

2:00-2:50 pm
*Why we write and read the sick stuff

I’m in the bar.

*How to be an effective panel moderator? Every Pro ends up on a panel at one time or another. How can you be a more effective moderator and make the most of your panel?

Still in the bar. People are buying me Jack, as they should. All is well, except I’m pissed that it’s a no-smoking bar.

3:00-3:50 pm
*Networking 101: How do you network at conventions without looking like a neophyte?

I’d say: Bring business cards, not manuscripts. Don’t use your screen name when you introduce yourself. And with regard to networking with me personally: do not make any assumptions. Do not assume that I’m some horror groupie or am into horror to get laid: do not introduce yourself by hitting on me, or sticking your fucking beer bottle into my cleavage. That kind of thing gets you OUT of my network right quick.

*What makes a good horror movie?

My answer: The presence of German Shepherds and/or Jason Statham. Actually, my definition of a “good” horror movie changes depending on what category of horror movie I’m discussing. There’s “good” subtle suspenseful horror, there’s “good” cheese, there’s “good” gutchucking gore. My criteria differ.

4:00-4; 50 pm
*Grammatical Pet Peeves. The panelist’s favorite (or least favorite) grammatical errors.

I’d say: “I go bugfuck when people misplace the apostrophe in possessive plurals.”

*The Poetry of Poe.

This sounds awesome. I hook up with some crowd and head to dinner, missing the opening ceremonies, book signings, and other such things.

*When Did Vampires And Werewolves Become Love Interests? Much of YA horror is paranormal romance for teens, or YA chick lit with vampires. When did publishers decide that vampires and werewolves shouldn’t be scary, just misunderstood and full of angst? Why does this interpretation of the mythos work so well for teens?

Jesus christ, this is a long goddamn panel title. Is that true, re: YA horror? I had no idea.

*What authors are horror writers reading?

Oh, wait, I forgot I’m still at dinner.

* I-Sci-Fi Interviews

This sounds like something that’s being broadcast. That means I’m nowhere near it.

7:00-7:50 pm
(HWA) Sexism in Horror Publishing and its Community

Am I still at dinner, or am I in the parking lot smoking? It’s only Thursday evening and I’m already lost. I can’t be on this panel because I quit the HWA years ago. Booya.

8:00-8:50 pm
*Working with Editors. How to have a good working relationship between writers and editors.

My answer: Don’t be an asshat. Buy your editors drinks whenever possible. Note that I, as an asshat who absolutely HATES to get up from the table and head to the bar for the next round, don’t have any good working relationships with editors.

*Male or Female? The game show that challenges the audience to guess the gender of the author of a passage of classic or current horror. Can you tell the difference?

This? Is a fucking cool panel. I wish THIS one were on the i-broadcast-whatever. OH LOOK:
I-Sci-Fi broadcast

… I think it is! Rad.

Horrific Folklore. Horror fiction has always drawn from folk tales and legends. What is it about folklore that touches our psyche?

Far as I’m concerned, it’s the other way around: most folk tales and legends are horror stories, and that includes cautionary tales.

10:00-10:50 pm
*Why editors reject a story. What basic things does a writer need to know to keep from being rejected on the first page?

Don’t suck.

*Urban legends as fodder for horror stories

Uh, see above re: folk tales. Come ON.

11:00-midnight
*Punk Horror: yet another passing fancy or the next wave of horror fiction?
(Michael Calvillo, Cody Goodfellow, Lisa Morton, Stephen M. Wilson, John Skipp)

WHC2008 welcome party

Oh, I see what’s going on here: you’re putting the punks downstairs in a little lecture hall so we can’t fuck up the welcome party. NOT GONNA WORK, BITCHES.

FRIDAY

9:00-9:50 am:

Sorry, still fucking up the welcome party.

10:00-10:50 am
11:00-11:50 am
12:00-12:50 pm
1:00-1:35 pm

… still in bed, by which I mean someone’s floor.

1:35pm-2pm

Sitting on parking lot curb so I can chainsmoke while drinking the hotel room coffee & putting on my makeup. This fabulous multitasking is so I can make it to:

2:00-4:50 pm
Developmental Stages of the Serial Killer (Dr. Al Carlisle)

… because that, my friends, is a fucking awesome way to wake up.

5:00-5:50 pm

At bar, “networking” and further damaging my working relationships with editors

6:00-6:50 pm

Sitting uncomfortably at dinner at a table with some folks I hardly know and a very famous person, who must under no circumstances find out I’ve never heard of him before, much less read any of his work. Famous person finds out and the whole table is disgusted with me.

8:00-8:50 pm
Mass Autograph Signing

Would we get to sit alphabetically? Would I be seated next to F. Paul Wilson? Argh! Poor man, I’d be gushing so hard over him that he’d ask to be moved.

People would stare at me and get nothing signed. One or two people would say “Hi, I’m blah! I’ve always wanted to meet you,” and I’d say, “Yes, we’ve met a dozen times now. Every single con I’ve attended, we’ve met. We shared a hotel room in 2002. I gave you the Heimlich when you choked on the Lego piece in Seattle.” Etc. This always happens and hurts my feelings because I like to think I’m bloody memorable. *sniff*

10:30-midnight pm

Fuck yeah!!

Late night:
Leisure Book party

Woohoo! Hi, Don! I make a total ass out of myself at this party, believe me.

SATURDAY

If past cons are any indication, my Saturday will be spent with me holed up in my hotel room with injuries, nursing a critical hangover with Cup o’ Soup, watching a Monk marathon.

Late night:
Stoker party

Woohoo! I make an ass out of myself. By this time I’ve also given up on wearing the dresses and pretty things I’ve brought, and am wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a tank top covered in dog hair and blood (because I used it as a compress on my injuries earlier that day.)

SUNDAY

Yeah, right.

4:00-4:50 pm
Closing Ceremonies/ gothic belly dancers

8pm-6am

My favorite part of any con. Hell, I should just give up on attending entire cons from now on and book flights to land during the closing ceremonies. Hanging out with the con leftovers is my absolute favorite time.

Monday late morning: crawl onto airplane. During layover between flights, calculate how much money I spent. Determine that, between flights and hotel, I spent a grand; spent three hundred in the dealers’ room on VCDs, action figures, and Bandai Godzilla shit; spent two hundred in the artists’ room, and spent $32 on painkillers and an ACE bandage. Look through the business cards I gathered and try to remember which belonged to whom and what, if anything, I promised them. Nearly miss last leg home. Upon arriving home, spend the next nine days on the internet, scouring con reports to be sure nobody’s reported how much of a dick I am or posted any photos of me. Swear to never attend another con.

Yep.

I wish I were going.

Second: David Niall Wilson has been posting interviews with each of the Sirens contributors at Macabre Ink.  My interview (my first!) went live today, and Loren Rhoads and Maria Alexander both gave great interviews, as well.  Christa’s is coming soon!

Wil at HY is disappointed because he didn’t find a “new female writer” worth his time.  (He also calls stories that appeared in such places as The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror and Hot Blood, and many stories that received honorable mentions in YBF&H, “stuff better reserved for their lockboxes.”  Trunk stories.  Heh.)  He even finds time to insult Nancy Kilpatrick for no reason at all – she’s not even in the book.

Vampire poet Derek Clendering appears only to have read half of the book before his deadline at Dark Scribe (he doesn’t address anything by half of our authors.)

Ayup.

But I really *did* want to see the ending.  I was bothered for the year-plus away from the game – I wanted to see some kind of retribution.  I wanted the ending to be that the colossi were, perhaps, the souls of other resurrected loved ones, and that the finale would be that our sleeping princess would rise as a colossus herself, or something.

I was late meeting friends the other night and when I explained that I had to beat a colossus, was asked how the game was.  I told them it was depressing: you, Agro, and the colossi are the only things in the world, and you develop a real emotional attachment to them.  Hell, I even loved that you could pat Agro kindly, and made sure to do it often.

At about 6:30 this morning I’m playing and an event took place in the game that made me absolutely wail, no no no, no!  I threw a total tantrum – I pitched the controller at the (empty) dog bed, declared that I hated this game and would not play any more, and then went out on the porch and *wept.*  Over pixels.  And I do not give a fuck that weeping over pixels is stupid – it’s no different than weeping every time Gage gets hit by the damn semi truck.

Anyway, I eventually gathered myself and finished the game.  I won’t spoil it for anyone who cares.

I love fighting games – Tekken and Soul Calibur.  I like wild hack-n-slash mayhem like Otogi 2 and fast, fun things like Shinobi.  But this is the first game that’s ever engaged me emotionally to the point that first I had to quit, and then I had to cry.  Thanks, game designers, for fucking me right up.

In case anyone was wondering, my contributions are:

• “The Wild,” the second story I ever had published.  It appeared only in Carpe Noctem Magazine in 1998.
• “Close,” my Edegawa Rampo homage, which appeared only in Damned: An Anthology of the Lost.  From Tracy Vonder Brink’s review of Damned for Joe Bob Briggs’ site: ”

• “Close” by Mehitobel Wilson would make a great “Tales from the Crypt” episode. A hotel employee devises an ingenious way to spy on amorous guests with some unforeseen consequences. It’s deliciously nasty.

My east-coast ass missed the signing at Dark Delicacies last week.  If you missed it, too, dig this:
FEB. 23, 2008, 3 PM
Maria Alexander and Loren Rhoads will perform live readings from Sins of the Sirens (and, of course, sign books) at Borderlands Books in San Francisco.

Apologies for all the pimping, but I figured that after nearly ten years of publishing, it was about time I learn HOW to pimp.  I’ve never bothered to do it before.

(I also never bothered to vanity-search, which is why I never saw that awesome mention of “Close” until tonight.  Hee!)

Learn all about it RIGHT HERE, and preorders are awesome because you get free shipping if you do it through Dark Arts by Dec. 31st.  There are story excerpts as well!

It’s also up for preorder at Amazon, here:

Woohoo!

Also, Maria, Christa, and Loren will be reading and signing at Dark Delicacies on Jan 19th:
2:00pm
Dark Delicacies
4213 W. Burbank Blvd.
Burbank, CA 91505
1-888-DARKDEL

I won’t be there because I live waaaaaay on the other side of the world, goddammit.

And in totally un-writing-related news, I finally got my Etsy jewelry store store up and running.  There’s a lot more stuff to come, but I have about eight minutes’ worth of good jewelry-shooting light a week, so photographing the pieces has been troublesome.

But if you like sparkly stuff, go look!

For once, I’m really glad I’ve talked about a story concept to a friend.  Usually I keep my mouth solidly shut until the story’s been written.

For a couple of years now, I’ve had in my mental idea-file the plan to write about four people laying face-down in the park.  Why are they laying face-down?  I don’t know.  Nobody does.  So a crowd gathers, and asks, and speculate to one another, and bother the facedown people (that’s how I thought of them, the “facedown people,” and it was the “facedown people story” whenever I’d mention it.)  Eventually the reason why the foursome were laying there would become clear to the spectators (but not to the reader), and others would be compelled to lay down too. Blah blah surreal thing, blah blah statement on gawking & getting into people’s business and how if you get burned by what you discover, that’s your own damn fault.

So.  I’m supposed to be doing a story.  I was writing one, and then the VA Tech shootings happened, and that made the plot of my story not only completely inappropriate, but too sad for me to finish.  So I switch to the facedown-people story.  Slow start.  Which is a good thing, good thing I didn’t pour too much energy into it, because this morning Robert, with whom I’ve discussed the story before, emails me a video.

HOLY SHIT.

?!!

Holy SHIT.

Also… shit.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard that song before, and I not only don’t recognize the video but don’t know where I could have even seen it (unless it was on a tv in the pool hall and I just idly watched it and absorbed it without realizing?)

I’m glad as hell that I’ve discussed the story with Robert and that he happened to find this vid today, though. This would have been a thousand times worse if I’d written & published the story, and THEN found out about it. Holyshit.

But now I’m scared to write anything at all, in case it’s a direct 100% ripoff of something I genuinely don’t remember having ever seen. FUCK, PEOPLE. Argh. That’s so scary!!