In Wolfgang Stiller‘s world, being “burnt out” is taken to a literal extreme. A spacious, empty room littered with worn-out bodies, charred heads being the only evidence that they might have been human—Or is it the wood that has become sentient, becoming anthropomorphic as it is struck and set aflame? Stiller’s Matchstickmen is accomplished by way of spare blank face molds conjoined to thick lumber, giving the impression that perhaps some people may be as forgotten or disposable as kindling. Most unnerving of all is the life-sized matchbox; a veritable coffin where the oaken souls lay to rest.

Via – All images © Wolfgang Stiller

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