MATRIARCH was originally entitled WORMEATER, the name I’d given many years previously to a monster I’d drawn from my imagination. This demonic father figure eventually morphed into the ‘goddess of rot and rebirth’ in my debut feature, as you can see below:
The original Wormeater drawing from 1995 or ‘96.
The Wormeater visits his son in the night, perhaps in the flesh or in a dream, shovelling worms into his mouth with a giant, spade-like spoon and shitting them out in a halo of worm-riddled turds. Maybe this was already an unconscious nod towards rot and rebirth? I think the waste matter of shit infused with the basic lifeform of the worms can be seen as a mockery of childbirth and life itself, with the worms representing the soul and the shit as the flesh! Meanwhile, the boy seems rigid within the confines of his bed as the tendril-tips of the monster’s beard tickle and probe him, conjuring a glistening, globule from his torso which in retrospect seems to foreshadow the tide of black sludge in the early part of the film.
Definite Maurice Sendak influence here, and a strong resemblance and vibe to the painting ‘Blue Baby, Blitz Over London’ by Edward Burra, an English artist that I didn’t know about at the time but is now one of my favourites. This was drawn in my final year at university and while the boy bears a striking (though unintentional) resemblance to my university friend Simon, Wormeater himself is modelled on my Philosophy professor Mr Harrison. Mr Harrison and I did not get along, and during a discussion of one of my essays he suddenly leapt up from his chair, pulled out his dentures and threw them onto the desk revealing a single upward-jutting tooth in his lower gum which I stared at transfixed while he showered the desk with spittle and me with abuse.
The second iteration of The Wormeater, drawn in 1997.
Saruman meets Green Man with long hair and wizardy beard bristling with twigs and leaves. He’s lost the spoon and the floating turds and the worms now reside in his mouth. Like probing fingers they emerge from between curtains of hair that seem to anticipate the location of the goddess’ second nest.
The boy looks like a puppet or perhaps he’s actually dismembered pieces of a boy arranged within the monster’s hair to resemble a whole, sleeping boy? That wasn’t the intention, just a happy accident resulting from my shoddy technique!
The third iteration of The Wormeater, drawn in 2005. A composite tracing of the first version and a cityscape I drew for my wife’s birthday.
He’s lost his eyes, turning him into something of a blind Fool / Oracle type figure, and left the bedroom and the boy within to float somewhat idiotically above the city. Maybe the boy lives in one of those towers?
The resemblance to the Burra piece is even stronger now, especially in the colours, but by this time I still hadn’t seen the picture and was only dimly aware of the artist. Very strange!
Fifteen years later I’m developing my short film URN into a feature script and come across an article about the Aztec ‘goddess of filthy things’. I’m immediately enthralled by Tlazoteotl who seems to reach into my brain and join hands with The Wormeater. Very quickly they meld into my goddess of rot and rebirth, combining the worm-filled orifices and swirly hair of The Wormeater with the female anatomy, deep squat and proudly exposed vagina of Tlazoteotl.
FUN FACT: Tlazoteotl also inspired the look of the golden idol from the opening sequence of RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK!
From 2020, this is the first piece of concept art for the film, at this stage still called WORMEATER. This lovely image by Joe Burns shows the goddess hunched inside a derelict greenhouse inside which she is magically entrapped. The Tlazoteotl influence is plain to see.
A very bad drawing I did in the run-up to production. The goddess has become more animal-like, gaining four breasts to form two rows of teats. This sketch was followed very closely by the prosthetics team and VFX teams as you’ll see if you watch the film.