I see this no diffent than some of David Lynch's more bizzare works or H.R. Gieger's paintings or Junji Ito and his works: shifting the human body into something more, something disturbing, something that evokes responses from us because it's not much different than us. Take Junji Ito for example: a man forcing his body into a spiral shape, thus crushing his entire bone structure and killing himself. The image is utterly alien and horrific, yet vaguely familiar, and worst of all, it could happen. It would take a lot of effort, but it could happen. And it would be horrific.
Now that that's down, let's get to blood. Blood is a squeamish topic: some are mortified by it, some are fascinated, and some find it beautiful. While there's always subgroups, these are the main reasons people react this way. Those who find it horrific obviously won't appreciate the art. Those fascinated by blood will be intrigued by the images and possibly desire to see more. Those that find blood beautiful are going to enjoy the art and recognize as so.
As for me, Blood is technically pretty on it's own, but if there's an obvious human owner to the blood within view, it's a lot different.
Although, I might add that your mothers supposed trip has large amounts of "Pickman's Model" type feelings. Could it have been a dream brought about by the story, or perhaps random memory of it?
Now that that's down, let's get to blood. Blood is a squeamish topic: some are mortified by it, some are fascinated, and some find it beautiful. While there's always subgroups, these are the main reasons people react this way. Those who find it horrific obviously won't appreciate the art. Those fascinated by blood will be intrigued by the images and possibly desire to see more. Those that find blood beautiful are going to enjoy the art and recognize as so.
As for me, Blood is technically pretty on it's own, but if there's an obvious human owner to the blood within view, it's a lot different.
Although, I might add that your mothers supposed trip has large amounts of "Pickman's Model" type feelings. Could it have been a dream brought about by the story, or perhaps random memory of it?