Mariette Moor

Welcome to my studio

Hi, I’m Mariette Moor, welcome to my digital studio.

My physical studio is currently my bed, a markedly horizontal departure from my previous setup which operated from a strictly upright position: working with all kinds of sculptural materials, disappearing into intensive drawing stints, and collaborating with some wonderful people.

I’m now experimenting with how to make work while stuck inside with a chronic illness that has, over the last two years, shrunk my world to a very small square footage. My practice has continued to develop, but only in my head, which turns out to be a very interesting, if pretty repetitive, place.

During this residency, I’ll be trying to collaborate with my current circumstances, which are eerily connected to my previous research into horror, intimacy, and scale. My relationship with these subjects has shifted since living in a chronically ill body, within a house shaped by intertwined care roles and health conditions.

Thanks for taking a look. Feel free to get in touch.

Warm wishes,

Mm x

‘All Seeing Eye’

A hand reaches through a miniature doorway into a small-scale diorama of a living room, resting on the floor and wearing a blue ring on the third finger. To one side sits a blue armchair, with a wicker dining chair blurred in the foreground. Through a second doorway, a man’s face peers into the model. There is a red and white vase to the right of the doorway, oddly large in relation to the rest of the room. — Pierre Bismuth on the set of *The All-Seeing Eye*, 2008, Pierre Bismuth & Michel Gondry.

LOOSE GRIP

Two images of hands, covered in pizza dough. The first is splayed out, fingers spread, coming through the top right corner of the image. The second is the a hand coming from the bottom left of the image, a fist with knuckles facing us. Each look as though the hand of a gargoyle has been juxtaposed onto the wrist of a human.

The last post of gathered images reminded me of when I encased my hands in dough for a test shoot for a short film.

MUMMIFIED ROOMMATE

1. MetalKingFlandango, r/NotMyJob/, Reddit, Guys who painted my shop just straight up painted over this spider. 5y ago. Access Online.

2. Palafitteposide, r/mildlyinteresting/, Reddit, This bug I found painted over on my wall today., 7y ago. Access Online.

3. chelsea, a human woman? @chellzyeah, Twitter, My landlord painted over a fucking roach, 11:39PM Sep 4, 2021. Access Online: Carly Stern, Daily Mail, Texas woman reveals her landlord painted over a COCKROACH on her wall as she shares a hilarious image of her ‘mummified roommate’ – sparking a wave of memes and jokes on Twitter, 8th September 2021.

4. Vincent van Gogh, detail of Olive Trees. Access Online: Mark Brown, Guardian, Dead grasshopper discovered in Vincent van Gogh painting, Wed 8 Nov 2017 18.36 GMT.

5. zestywitchy , r/mildlyinteresting/, Reddit, This spider was painted onto the wall. 10y ago. Access Online.

6. Alarming-Caramel, r/paint/, Reddit, Found a spider painted into a wall in my house. 2y ago. Unknown source. Access Online.

7. ZEROZAFIR , r/mildlyinteresting/, Reddit, This spider got caught in drying paint and died stuck to my wall, rip, 6y ago. Access Online.

8. National Park Service, Harvestmen, also called daddy longlegs, on a building at Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve in Alaska. Access Online: Katherine J Woo, New York Times, Did This Building Grow A Beard? Nope. Those are Legs: Daddy Longlegs will sometimes collect in large groups. Don’t mistake their dangling limbs for fur. Oct 31. 2020.

Audio recording by Papa Moor

’tiled perspective’

Read 06.08.2026 00:48am

“The third story which now begins is called “The Statues.” It begins by saying that I had been complaining about the cockroaches . Then the same woman appears on the scene. And so it goes on to the point where I awake as it is beginning to grow light, and I awake still feeling sleepy and I walk across the kitchen. Even more sleepy is the scullery floor with its tiled perspective. And in the shadows of dawn, there is a purplish hue which distances everything; at my feet, I perceive patches of light and shade, scores of rigid statues scattered everywhere. The cockroaches that have hardened from core to shell. Some are lying upside down. Others arrested in the midst of some movement that will never be completed. In the mouths of some of the cockroaches, there are traces of white powder. I am the first to observe the dawn breaking over Pompei. I know what this night has been, I know about the orgy in the dark. In some, the gypsum has hardened as slowly as in some organic process, and the cockroaches, with ever more tortuous movements, have greedily intensified the night’s pleasures, trying to escape from their insides. Until they turn to stone, in innocent terror and with such, but such an expression of pained reproach. Others— suddenly assailed by their own core, without even having perceived that their inner form was turning to stone!— these are suddenly crystallized, just like a word arrested on someone’s lips: I love . . . The cockroaches, invoking the name of love in vain, sang on a summer’s night. While the cockroach over there, the one with the brown antennae smeared with white, must have realized too late that it had become mummified precisely because it did not know how to use things with the gratuitous grace of the in vain: “It is just that I looked too closely inside myself! It is just that I looked too closely inside . . .”— from my frigid height as a human being, I watch the destruction of a world. Dawn breaks. Here and there, the parched antennae of dead cockroaches quiver in the breeze. The cockerel from the previous story crows.”‘

Excerpt from The Fifth Story – Clarice Spector

Link to full short story

(2014-03-26). Short: An International Anthology of Five Centuries of Short-Stories, Prose, Poems, Brief Essays and Other Short Prose Forms (pp. 121-122). Persea. Kindle Edition.

ceiling, moth & cheese

A single unlit birthday candle sticks out from the top of a closed match box as if it were a cake.

A subtly textured wall with small lumps and marks on it is illuminated by a warm, orange light. The tips of leaves from a house plant creep up at the bottom.

Left: c. mae bloom, Firelights flickering on the ceiling of the world, 2025.

Middle: Foresaken-Werewolf-23, r/mildinginteresting/, Reddit, Peice of plaster on my wall looks like someone painted over a moth or butterfly, 7mo ago

Right: Vince Moriarty, Positive Quotes Diaries, Facebook, Does the inside of a cheese grater qualify as a liminal space? 9 January 2024

Audio recording by Papa Moor

starting point – rejected application snippet

‘Votive offerings and talismans, toys (especially transitional objects), small scars, dents or details: the minute holds power far beyond its size. I’m interested in how small-scale things affects the viewer, inviting a sense of play that involves a familiar projection tied to the uncanny. We shrink to fit into a very real yet psychologically activated world while assuming some authority over it. However, what seems endearing “under the thumb” becomes less so when we realise its scale actually limits its visibility.

Small details or objects, particularly animate ones like insects, can be seriously disconcerting – hence why close-ups are so often used in horror films to build tension or foreshadow what’s to come, hinting that the threat is unlikely to be entirely visible, containable or predictable. This capacity to pass unnoticed or remain hidden can also feel intimate – a small mark on a wall, an object tucked into an inside pocket, strung against a chest, or held in a fist.’