| I was 16 when I first came across an image of Kembra Pfahler in a magazine that some punk friend had given me. The image hit me over the head like a glass bottle at a rock show. I was a sheltered teenager who grew up less then a mile away from George Bush Senior, not the sort of neighborhood where one gets much exposure to theatrical underground rock groups. Once in my head, I would never forget that picture, and with good reason; the combination of nudity, body paint, glitter, a three-foot-tall wig, blackened teeth, and painfully tall shoes makes for an image that sticks, especially in the mind of a lanky, nerdy teenage boy. | 
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Eric Schmalenberger on The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black
I was 16 when I first came across an image of Kembra Pfahler in a magazine that some punk friend had given me. The image hit me over the head like a glass bottle at a rock show. I was a sheltered teenager who grew up less then a mile away from George Bush Senior, not the sort of neighborhood where one gets much exposure to theatrical underground rock groups. Once in my head, I would never forget that picture, and with good reason; the combination of nudity, body paint, glitter, a three-foot-tall wig, blackened teeth, and painfully tall shoes makes for an image that sticks, especially in the mind of a lanky, nerdy teenage boy. And the name of her band, The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black (TVHOKB), filled my head with dreams of seedy New York rock clubs, mayhem, and madness. Getting the group’s albums was difficult given my location at that time, and it would be three years before I got to hear them. I was and still am, from the first time I pressed play, in love with TVHOKB’s unique rock music. I would never dare to imagine that I would one day meet Kembra Pfahler, let alone that I would spend my 24th birthday on stage performing in The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black in body paint, wig, black teeth, and painfully tall shoes.
When I moved to New York in 2000 for college, one of the first things I did was get copies of the three major TVHOKB albums; A National Health Care, The Anti-Naturalists, and Black Date. I quickly found that this band was idolized, worshiped, and completely legendary in downtown New York and beyond, and that they had been at the forefront of New York City’s underground art and music scenes since the early 90s. Not that all that meant much to me at the time: I was 17 and had come to New York to study musical theater (a path I did not follow for long, praise be). But I was hooked, and so I foraged, looking to find out more about these painted ladies of rock. I had to know what it was about this band. Their stilettos had marched across the stages of some of New York’s most impressive music and art venues over the years, and where other groups would have been convicted of using campy gimmicks; TVHOKB had been elevated to the status of legends by some of the most discerning circles in New York’s art, fashion, nightlife, and rock communities.
Years later, while working with Deitch Projects on the first Art Parade, I was introduced to Pfahler. She was the most undiluted creative force I had ever met; she was not just a rock star or a performance artist or a visual artist, model, curator, installation artist, musician, muse, or film maker, she was all of the above all at once.
Pfahler believes that there should be no hierarchy of artistic mediums or images, and she practices what she preaches. All the puzzle pieces fit together to form one great work, where film can be regarded as performance, curatorial practice as activism. The group’s massive wigs are made with such reverence and exactitude that one can look at the process more as sculpture then styling. A self proclaimed “Anti-Naturalist,” it is with very little regard toward traditional uses of media that Pfahler creates her world. She shapes everything around her to fit into her vocabulary, including the very language with which she explains it. For example she labeled her fashion show in 2003 a move towards “Vanilla Existentialism.” It showcased the softer, more vanilla side of her rock persona.
Pfahler had moved to New York in 1979 and quickly became involved in the East Villages’ burgeoning performance art and experimental film scenes. Inspired by artists like the Viennese Actionists (Otto Muhl, Rudolf Schwarzkogler, Herman Nitsch), she began making transgressive performances and super 8 films. Although she was a decade away from founding The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black, she was already beginning to form the iconic visual language that she would later utilize on stage. In her creation of TVHOKB, Pfahler was simply moving forward the way some artists would move from watercolor to oil, only her new medium of choice was a rock band. The formation of the band was, in fact, an effort to bring all her seemingly disparate parts together and give them a soundtrack.
The sound of TVHOKB is driving, primal, rhythmic, rock. The songs follow the classic rock formula of verse, chorus, verse, chorus, guitar solo, verse, chorus. The lyrics are sophisticated in their simplicity, at once infused with horror and humor. Each song has an accompanying prop and performance, for example in Alaska, snow is thrown from large Easter baskets; in Chopsley the giant Chopsley teeth monster attempts to devour Pfahler on stage as she sings; and in Underwear Drawer, well there’s an underwear drawer filled with underwear which is tossed out to an eager audience. They are considered the ultimate in TVHOKB “femorabilia.” Using only what’s on hand, the group is able to create complex performances filled with low-tech props and minimalist costumes, all of which are made by the band members themselves.
Pfahler is joined on stage in TVHOKB’s latest line up by Adam Cardone, Dave Weston, and Magal. Then there are the GOKB, or Girls Of Karen Black—the core members being Alice Moi, Bijoux Altamirano, Ann Hanavan, and Jackie Rivera. The GOKB don the signature Karen Black body paint look and aid in all stage theatricalities. To be a Girl of Karen Black is to accept a very difficult role as a performer. The costume of body paint and high-contrast black-and-white clothing may seem simple, but it’s not easy to place ones self in the persona. The process of getting ready for a show is ritualistic in its precision, and the transformation from day person to the Karen Black creature is a complete one. Many performers have had quite visceral physical reactions after performing, but the reward of seeing yourself in that dark light is well worth the physical and emotional excursion. Recently the Girl of Karen Black persona was the subject of a collaboration of photos between Pfahler and art star sculptress E.V. Day, who has incredible insight into the character: “Pfahler is the only figure I have represented as a literal force within my Exploding Couture project: her performance persona is a kind of female superhero whose super power would blow conventional tailoring off her figure in a blink. We both agreed the Chanel power suit was an appropriate icon to detonate off of her.” The piece was, appropriately, titled Chanel/Shazam.
In one classic TVHOKB song, Pfahler states, “I make it look easy, I give everything that I got, I make it look easy, even when it’s not…” truer words could never be said of this rock art goddess and the band that she leads.
