There is a particular comfort in finding someone who shares your interests.
In a narrow alcove, two members of the Grimsby household settle into each other’s company. A blue-haired figure sits on a chair, its painted grin framed by sculpted curls. Beside it, a black-clad companion occupies the floor, its pale, elongated face turned into the room. Long fingers rise and stretch through the small space between them. Behind their gathering, a lamp glows atop an antique wooden radio; in the foreground, two televisions transmit black-and-white medical imagery.
The arrangement has the closeness of a familiar household ritual. One companion takes the chair, the other finds a place at its feet, and the evening’s entertainment continues around them. Their shared fondness for science and oddities gives the clinical broadcasts a comfortable place within this domestic scene. What might appear disturbing to a visitor seems well suited to an evening spent together.
Their relationship unfolds through gesture. The seated figure brings its blue hands toward its face and chest, while its companion extends dramatically elongated fingers into view. These movements suggest an exchange whose meaning remains private. An extravagant gesture might be an explanation, an expression of enthusiasm, or an attempt to attract attention. A hand drawn toward a fixed smile might signal delight or uncertainty. Their faces hold their expressions while their bodies carry the conversation.
The smallness of the alcove makes that conversation feel especially intimate. Patterned walls and cool blue windows enclose the figures, while dark wood paneling frames our view from the adjoining room. We stand at a slight remove, looking past the televisions into a space they have made comfortable through their presence. The scene offers the familiarity of companionship without requiring its inhabitants to become fully understandable.
On the screens, medical imagery brings the body under close examination. Within the room, the Grimsbys’ own unusual bodies become expressive through posture and movement. Their exaggerated proportions invite scrutiny, but the longer we look, the more attention shifts toward their relationship. The strange figures begin to resemble a familiar experience: spending time with someone whose company requires little explanation.
Karen Jerzyk made every character by hand and filmed the work herself. Combining stop-motion animation with live-action performances by people in costume, the series gives physical constructions the gestures and habits of household inhabitants. Here, the weight of a seated body, the inclination of a head, and the reach of a handmade finger become the means through which an unlikely pair acquires warmth and personality.
Fine scratches and drifting surface marks lend the image the atmosphere of a well-worn family recording. The Grimsbys remain absorbed in their evening, apparently unconcerned by our visit. We are left with a glimpse of a home where curiosity is shared, peculiarities are familiar, and there is always room to sit beside someone you know.
Part of *The Grimsbys*, a moving-image series by Karen Jerzyk exploring a peculiar household’s fondness for science, oddities, and the small rituals of life together.
