Back in the day we would refer to anything that was intensly awesome as “Like A Sonny Chiba punch to the head”
Among the many forms of the grotesque, I find the one whose roots are steeped in despair more unusual and complex. The other forms have less intensity. It is important to note that the grotesque is inconceivable without intensity of feeling. And what intensity is deeper and more organic than despair? The grotesque appears only in very negative states, when great anxiety arises from a lack of life; the grotesque is am exaltation in negativity. There is a mad launch toward negativity in that bestial, agonizing grimace when the shape and lines of the face are contorted into strangely expressive forms, when the look in one’s eyes change with distant light and shadow, and one’s thoughts follow the curve of similar distortions…
The complexity of the grotesque born out of despair resides in its capacity to indicate an inner infinity and to produce a paroxysm of the highest tension. How could this intense agony manifest itself in pleasant linear curves and formal purity? The grotesque essentially negates the classic, as well as any idea of style, harmony, and perfection.
This made tear up for real.