“This is Tonya, she’s the matriarch of the Fleshlette family.”
Los Angeles sculptor Jonathan Payne produced these lovely little Cronenbergian trinkets—The Fleshlettes—with polymer clay, acrylics and human hair, but man if they don’t look like actual flesh. The Fleshlettes are distinctly sentient in concept; not only did Payne name each one, he attributed to them their own unique personality traits—I captioned what descriptions I could find, but some remain anonymous. What about the warty fingerball with some sort of intestinal sphincter? She kind of looks like a “Hortense” to me. Perhaps a “Louise?”
These “tumorous little balls of flesh,” as Payne calls them, lack a dominant form, instead melding body parts into masses so seamless, you almost miss some of the distinct anatomy. I almost put a NSFW up for Richanda, but really, her phallic/areolar nature is hardly the most disturbing thing about her. Besides, have you heard her sing?!? The voice of an angel, that one.
“This is Toni. She smells. None of the other girls pick her to be on their team. She can type 90 wpm.”
“She is named Eileen (for obvious reasons).”
“Here is Richanda, the 6th fleshlette. She is similar to the others except for one key difference: her singing voice.”