A familiar face. Something curious on television.
A blue-haired head rests atop a vintage television, turning to reveal its profile, the sculpted curls at its back, and a broad, tooth-filled smile. Small objects project from its crown, lending its silhouette the appearance of a peculiar homemade instrument. Beneath it, the screen flickers with black-and-white medical imagery. The face and the broadcast share a vertical arrangement, forming an unlikely portrait of a household’s favorite interests.
Surrounding them, torn and peeling wall coverings expose layers of pattern and texture. These curled surfaces frame the television like the curtains of a small domestic theater. The setting feels worn, private, and well acquainted with its unusual occupant. Within this intimate space, a detached head on an old appliance acquires the matter-of-fact presence of a treasured ornament.
The head’s rotation brings attention to its physical construction. Painted features give way to thick blue curls, then return as the face turns toward us again. Its expression remains fixed while its orientation changes, allowing the same grin to take on different qualities. Facing forward, it seems to greet the viewer. In profile, its attention appears directed elsewhere. Turned away, it becomes an object whose personality we remember even when its face is hidden.
Below, the medical images offer another kind of access beneath a surface. The television presents the body as something to investigate, while the handmade head invites inspection of its own exterior. Together, they establish a curious relationship between anatomy and invention: the structures of living things occupy the screen, and an imagined being occupies the space above it.
For the Grimsbys, this pairing belongs comfortably within everyday life. Science and oddities furnish their home, giving familiar objects unexpected companions and purposes. The scene suggests a household where curiosity continues long after the people have left the room—or where the distinction between inhabitant, ornament, and apparatus was never especially important.
Handmade and filmed by Karen Jerzyk, the character is brought into motion through stop-motion animation. Its successive turns preserve the tactile presence of the sculpted form while giving it a small, persistent independence. The television continues its broadcast beneath a face that appears perpetually pleased by the arrangement.
Part of *The Grimsbys*, a moving-image series by Karen Jerzyk exploring the domestic world of peculiar characters with a fondness for science and oddities.
