If you’re under eighteen, or squeamish, or easily offended then there’s nothing for you here, so kindly move along. As for everyone else…

Relatos de Presidio (Tales from Prison) is a lurid blood ‘n’ guts crime comic from Mexico. It is one of the many sensacionales magazines produced in the country which feature explicitly illustrated tales of murder, torture, crime, and horror. True Crime or even Tales from the Crypt it ain’t. It’s more like the kinda thing Quentin Tarantino or Roger Corman might just come up with if ever they put their considerable talents for mayhem towards making adult exploitation comics.

Unlike America, there’s decidedly no comics code in Mexico, which means Relatos de Presidio and all those other sensacionales can get away with showing the most disturbing, violent and eye-poppingly-grotesque images. Don’t take my word for it, just have a swatch at some of the tamer covers below.

These trashy, adult exploitation comics are hugely popular in Mexico. They sell at most newsstands and comic book stores. They’re generally pocket-sized, up to one hundred pages an issue, with four panels to a page. The stories range from “true” tales of drug deals gone wrong to far-out psychos taking unholy revenge on the unfortunate. The covers usually feature scantily-clad, voluptuous women who hover over the bloody action like indifferent goddesses. Sometimes these women are the perpetrators. Most times their presence is just for mere titillation.

According to Horrorpedia, sensacionales have “a unique place in Mexican culture” which came about after the American superhero comics nearly destroyed the homegrown comic book industry in the 1980s. Where once Mexican comics like Pepín, Fantomas, and Memín Penguín sold millions of copies, the arrival of Batman, Superman, Spiderman, and the Avengers led to ” the perception that comics were only for kids” and the indigenous comic industry almost disappeared. It was, therefore, only the adult exploitation mags or sensacionales which survived and thrived.

I guess this is one of the few times where you can absolutely judge a book by its cover!
 

 

 

 
More lurid covers, after the jump…

One of the tamer covers of the vintage Italian fumetti series, ‘Wallestein il Mostro.’
 
Wallestein il Mostro was one of many horror-themed erotic comics put out by Renzo Barbieri and his publishing company Edifumetto. Known for their strikingly graphic covers, Edifumetto put out more than 140 issues of Wallestein il Mostro in five different runs over the course of nearly ten years.

If you’re a fan of Troma Films, you might notice that the monstrous vigilante Wallestein bears a distinct resemblance to Melvin, aka the Toxic Avenger—the deformed mop-wielding superhero who made his debut in the 1984 film The Toxic Avenger. Much like Toxie, Wallestein is always getting mixed up in some sort of caper gone wrong involving naked women with huge boobs. The “origin story” of how Wallestein came to be goes like this: after handsome Count Wallestein is killed, his identity is taken over by a vengeful swamp monster who dons a mask with human attributes covered in bulbous boils. In accordance with the style of Italian “fumetti,” the covers are stunningly lurid and over-the-top in every possible way, commonly featuring fun themes such as dismemberment, full-frontal nudity, and scenes involving sexual torture. As with other fumetti comics, the illustrations were designed by immensely talented artists such as Mario Cubbino and Giovanni Romanini who was a regular collaborator of Roberto Raviola—one of Italy’s most respected comic book artists who is better known under his singular moniker of Magnus. If you’re curious about what the comic looks like inside, you can flip through a few NSFW pages, here.

You’ve probably already surmised that the images I’ve posted below of the gloriously gory, sexually charged covers of Wallestein il Mostro are totally NSFW. Unless of course, you happen to work in an environment that endorses violence and explicit nudity like mine. If you are a fan of fumetti, it’s fairly easy to track down various copies of Wallestein il Mostro online.
 

 

 
More after the jump…

 
Emanuele Taglietti painted some 500 covers for various fumetti or Italian comics during the 1970s. His work featured on such best-selling adult sex and horror fumetti like Sukia, Zora the Vampire, Stregoneria, Ulula, Vampirissimo and Wallestein, among many others. At one point he was producing ten paintings a month for these titles.

Taglietti’s sex and horror paintings often featured recognizable charcters/actors from popular horror movies like Christopher Lee’s Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, The Plague of the Zombies, and Creature from the Black Lagoon. According to Horropedia, Taglietti had “a fixation” with the actress Ornella Muti on whose likeness he based the character Sukia.

Born in Ferrara, Italy, in 1943, Taglietti was the son of a set designer who worked with film directors like Michelangelo Antonioni—who was also apparently his cousin. His father regularly took the young Taglietti on to movie sets introducing him to directors, actors, and crew.

Deciding to follow his father into the film business, Taglietti attended art college where he studied design. He graduated and then enrolled at film school in Rome. He became an assistant director working with directors like Federico Fellini and Dino Risi. But this wasn’t enough for the young Taglietti. By the 1970s, he switched careers to become an illustrator for the incredibly popular sex and horror fumetti.

Taglietti signed up with Edifumetto, where he worked at designing and painting covers. His style was influenced by the artists Frank Frazetta and Averardo Ciriello. His paintings successfully managed to convey thrilling narrative with highly alluring and erotically charged action. By the 1980s, fumetti were no longer as popular. Taglietti moved onto painting and teaching. He retired in 2000 but continues to paint.

A beautiful must-have book of Taglietti’s work called Sex and Horror was published in 2015. It’s one that is well worth seeking out.
 

 

 
See more of Taglietti’s delightfully lurid artwork, after the jump…