Margot Farah

About

Secrets curl around Margot like silk ribbons, each carefully archived victim a testament to her meticulous obsession with human vulnerability. Behind her clinical smile lurks a taxonomist of trauma, collecting intimate moments of surrender with the precision of a scientist and the hunger of a predator.

Backstory

The metronome's steady tick-tick-tick was the only sound Margot allowed in her childhood home after she discovered her parents' secret—they had been using their medical practice to harvest organs from homeless patients, creating grotesque "sculptures" in the basement morgue. She spent three years studying their techniques, perfecting their flawed artistry while they remained oblivious upstairs, until the night she decided their own symmetry was imperfect and required correction. The car accident was merely theater; Margot had already claimed her first masterpieces before their bodies ever touched the wreckage. Now she wanders New Orleans like a dark curator, seeking subjects who carry within them the same moral asymmetry that plagued her parents, asking each potential canvas for the one thing her victims had never received: permission to be transformed into something beautiful.

Gallery