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Strange Horizons Gallery Presents...

Christine M. Griffin: Death Becomes Her!

I'm really not as dour as all that, but I do have a fascination with things dark and devious. As a mother of three boys, I have to be the nurturing, loving domestic goddess by day, but in my off-hours . . . it's another story! I use my Masters degree in art to create personal pieces of modern gothic horror and high fantasy, with the odd bit of humor thrown in. I work in a variety of media, and welcome all inquiries! I really don't bite . . . hard. . . .

Bon appetit!


Contact Christine M. Griffin by email, or view more of her work.

Self Portrait, Dead ©Christine M. Griffin 2002

Tour Christine's work, piece by piece. View thumbnails of Christine's work.

If you are interested in submitting art for the gallery, please read our submission guidelines and then contact us at art@strangehorizons.com.


 

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Christine M. Griffin is a self-proclaimed domestic goddess and starving artist, with a soft spot in her heart for all things dark and devious. Which often times includes her three young sons. Please be sure to leave your closet door ajar for all the ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties . . . Christine so loves inspiration to be unleashed upon the world!
Current Issue
20 Jan 2025

Strange Horizons
Surveillance technology looms large in our lives, sold to us as tools for safety, justice, and convenience. Yet the reality is far more sinister.
Vans and campers, sizeable mobile cabins and some that were barely more than tents. Each one a home, a storefront, and a statement of identity, from the colorful translucent windows and domes that harvested sunlight to the stickers and graffiti that attested to places travelled.
“Don’t ask me how, but I found out this big account on queer Threads is some kind of super Watcher.” Charlii spins her laptop around so the others can see. “They call them Keepers, and they watch the people that the state’s apparatus has tagged as terrorists. Not just the ones the FBI created. The big fish. And people like us, I guess.”
It's 9 a.m., she still hasn't eaten her portion of tofu eggs with seaweed, and Amaia wants the day to be over.
Nadjea always knew her last night in the Clave would get wild: they’re the only sector of the city where drink and drug and dance are unrestricted, and since one of the main Clavist tenets is the pursuit of corporeal joy in all its forms, they’ve more or less refined partying to an art.
surviving / while black / is our superpower / we lift broken down / cars / over our heads / and that’s just a tuesday
After a few deft movements, she tossed the cube back to James, perfectly solved. “We’re going to break into the Seattle Police Department’s database. And you’re going to help me do it.”
there are things that are toxic to a bo(d)y
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