Edgar Allan Poe isn’t the only Philadelphian known for creatively exploring the macabre. Sam Heimer has turned a lifelong love of Halloween into an art career. Among other projects, Heimer is the creative force behind a toy company specializing in fortune-telling machines and monsters, a Halloween-themed art subscription service, and a suite of spooky beer labels. His intricate illustrations reference the mythologies and rituals of Halloween and the occult with a loving nostalgia.
Like with Poe, to pigeonhole Heimer’s art as just creepy is to miss the point. Take Cirque du Noir. Yes, at first glance, the central figure is a terrifying skeleton in a clown costume. However, the scene is a celebration of the power of imagination: a child in a simple clown mask eating a bag of peanuts and play-directing a magical midnight circus by flashlight. Reflecting on this piece, Heimer recently wrote, “We did so much with so little as kids, regardless of how well off. The odd things we’d gravitate towards, entertain ourselves with, obsess over and build whole worlds around. How these things changed as we grew, and our imagination dulled.”
Similarly, the piece Cellar plays on the common fear of a dark basement by portraying a cadre of decaying skeletons as helpful houseguests. All of that spooky iconography throughout Heimer’s work is an accessible starting point for exploring universal hopes, fears, and silly situations.
With Halloween just around the corner, Heimer’s illustrations and his thoughtful approach to the holiday are an opportunity to consider what it offers beyond the usual candy-induced stomach ache.
As part of a partnership with Forman Arts Initiative, The Citizen caught up with Heimer. The interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
RJ Rushmore: You treat Halloween the way a lot of people treat New Year’s Day: both a joyous celebration and a time to reflect. Why this holiday for you, and what lessons do you take from it?
Sam Heimer: I love Halloween because it’s the only holiday that makes any sense to me. It is not founded in any one religion. It’s not rooted in war or misplaced nationalism. At its root, it’s a harvest holiday. Since the start of agrarian practices, people have stopped and made note of the harvest, be it raucous feasts and bonfires or solemn prayer. It’s life and death and how they relate to hard work and immediate community. It’s making sure those around you have what they need to get through the dark half of the year, and looking to those who have gone before for guidance.
It’s all very visceral, grounding, and that clicks for me. I don’t view Halloween as a day on a calendar, but the ebb and flow of a grand tide as seen in the thinning of the veil. Because of this, it’s very easy for me to see Halloween in everything I do, year round.
How are you celebrating Halloween this year?
Normally, I have an open house, cook, and mix a lot of cocktails. My love language is service, so I like serving friends on Halloween. But this year has been rough enough to where I think I’m going to take my dog, and we’re going to go up to Tarrytown, better known as Sleepy Hollow, for Halloween night.
Your art has always been dark, but in recent years you’ve leaned more and more towards Halloween specifically. How did you come to specialize in that and make it a year-long focus?
When I set out to be an illustrator, focusing on Halloween was always my goal. I have been very stubborn about my career. You can pivot left or right to get more work. If I softened what I do, I could probably get children’s illustration work. If I simplified what I do, I could probably get editorial work. I didn’t want to pivot. I wanted to do Halloween. This tacked years onto working towards full-time illustration, but I eventually found my people. Without having the audience, regardless of the quality of output, none of this works.
You mentioned children’s illustration work. Why not? Your work has a lot of children in it. Sometimes the children are very happy trick-or-treaters, and sometimes the children are being stalked by the ghoul under a bridge. Is some of your work already for kids, or no?
I think so. I’ve never been hired for actual children’s stuff, but I think I could get the work if I went after it.
Without changing what you do.
Absolutely. Though, the young-adult market would likely be my best bet. My line language is naturally a little severe. My work looks violent by nature. Even the logo I did for the local garden, it looks like it’s for a metal band. It just happens to have flowers, a radish, and say “Brewerytown Garden.” The younger end of that market, I’d probably need to pivot a bit. My saving grace here is that I always want there to be a soft side or a sense of humor. There’s got to be comfort or laughter along with the horror. Gore for gore’s sake doesn’t interest me.
What is your favorite myth or ritual to illustrate?
I haven’t done it yet, but I want to illustrate a tarot deck. I don’t believe in astrology, but I’m attracted to it in a boardwalk mystic kind of way. There’s something alluring about reading people and giving out these pearls of wisdom, but at the same time being incredibly vague.
The last time we saw each other, you spent a good 25 minutes sitting with an astrologer.
I was finishing their sentences.
And you’re not saying that in a way that’s critical of astrologers.
Oh, no. I’m a secret warlock. I wrote every fortune in my fortune-telling machines. I like the entertainment value of it all, and it’s an oddly intimate way you can connect with people. That’s why, at my toy company Hibbets & Heimer Toys, we’ve made fortune-telling toys and fortune-telling vending machines (which you can visit at Crime and Punishment Brewing, Love City Brewing and Tattooed Mom). At some point I will do a tarot deck, just haven’t gotten around to it because anything in a series is very daunting.
It’s a lot of cards.
When you start a journey, you’re not the same person at the end. That’s also true of a series of artwork. The first one never has the same tone or look as the last one, and I have extreme difficulty with that.
But you do have some long-term projects. Order of the Thinned Veil has been going on for a minute.
Yes, but thankfully the work isn’t serial. About nine years ago, resin artist and sculptor Jason McKittrick and I were trying to think of more ways where we could celebrate Halloween all year. Order of the Thinned Veil is a subscription service where you receive resin pieces from Jason and art prints from me. They start shipping towards the end of the spring, so you get dribs and drabs of Halloween all throughout the year. People really seem to love it and Jason and I have a blast creating the work for it.
You’re also known for bringing other illustrators together for “drink and draw” evenings at bars around the city. Why are you attracted to drawing in bars, and where’s the best place in Philly for a drink and draw?
Drawing in bars is like comfort food for me. When I was a blossoming illustrator, I had nowhere to work, so I did all of my inking in bars. And there’s something weird about the chemistry. I don’t know if it’s the booze or being surrounded by people, but sitting in a dark dive bar, I can get a days’ worth of inking done in an hour or two, in the span of a couple drinks, that would take me all week in the studio.
However, that question is increasingly hard to answer because the fine dives and corner bars of Philly are becoming a dying breed. Here, Crime and Punishment, has nice tables and the lighting is decent. Here works. [Editor’s note: Crime and Punishment is a brewery at 2711 W. Girard Avenue.]
Cheers to that.
RJ Rushmore is a writer, curator and public art advocate. He is the founder of the street art blog Vandalog and culture-jamming campaign Art in Ad Places. As a curator, he has collaborated with Poster House, Mural Arts Philadelphia, The L.I.S.A. Project NYC and Haverford College. Rushmore’s writing has appeared in Hyperallergic, Juxtapoz, Complex and numerous books. He holds a B.A. in Political Science from Haverford College, where his thesis investigated controversies in public art.
This story is part of a partnership between The Philadelphia Citizen and Forman Arts Initiative to highlight creatives in every neighborhood in Philadelphia. It will run on both The Citizen and FAI’s websites.
