VINTAGE POST: Blackbird Pie (4/6/2010)

I'm not sure why but Black Bird Pie seems fitting for Easter time.  Maybe it's my mind making the connections between Jesus supposedly returning from the dead and emerging from that tomb, with the birds flying out of that pie.  It was the last thing people expected to see, I'm sure.  Some cursory searching online shows that the two have nothing to do with one another but I decided to make the blackbird pie for Easter, regardless.  Here's the poem:

Sing a song of sixpence AKA blackbirds in a pie

Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, Oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king? The king was in his counting house counting out his money, The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes, When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose! Apparently: "During the Medieval times, there were occasions when the cook in the house of a wealthy knight did indeed put live birds (often pigeons, but I'm sure it could just as easily have been blackbirds) inside a huge pastry crust, on his own initiative. This was seen as a great joke and the cook would usually have a real pie waiting to bring in when the birds had been released." So here's my cook, mashing potatoes in with ham and Starling meat, which was then spooned into phyllo dough cups and baked with cheddar cheese on top.  I had two of my girlfriends take over after my competency in the kitchen came under serious question and it was decided that I should simply observe. While the pies baked, some friends dropped by and joined me in dying eggs. Later we trickled into the kitchen and tested the pies.  While some of my friends loved them, others refused to try, and my husband and I both voted them as tasting too gamey.  Next time I will marinate the Starling in some sweet wine at least a day in advance, instead of the rush job I did for this occasion, substituting tonic water and agave syrup for the wine I didn't have around.  All is not lost however; the cats practically bit my fingertips off trying to get some of the little morsels so at least the leftovers have a place to go. This week I'll be skinning out the rest of the black birds and studying them.  I may have an order on deck for one or two, and I intend to use a few others in a hairpiece which I will hopefully finish in time for an event I've got to attend on Friday.

Self Portrait, the Wordy Version

If you've been following the show Immortalized, you most likely saw this coyote on last week's episode titled "Self Portrait":

Here are some photos I shot of Ruby the Coyote in my studio before shipping her out, back in October (Super storm Sandy to be exact- I remember because I rode my bike to Kensington that day with a pile of bubble wrap balanced on my handle bars, making every effort not to sail off into the sky)

Also, due to the time constraints of television, much of my verbal presentation to the judges explaining my interpretation of the theme wound up on the cutting room floor so to speak.  I am quite fond of this piece and felt strongly about my presentation so why not share it with you now?  Also, I incorporated some new techniques (new to me) into this mount and thought the nuts and bolts might interest you.
I wanted a coyote that looked fierce.  Menacing and vicious, lunging at any perceived threat.  Angry, hungry and tough as nails.  This is how I often feel, as an artist trying to follow her heart and blaze my own trail in a world where nobody gave me an instruction manual, and acceptance (from family, self and others) has been hard to come by.
Often times, following one's own dreams and making art a full time job presents a life riddled with frustration, poverty and hardship.  My nails are torn and atrocious from hands that take a tremendous amount of abuse.  Manicure?  Maybe when I'm dead and lying in my coffin* my hands will be still enough to warrant one.   My back is a tightly woven tapestry of knots from the internalized stress of hustling for ways to pay this or that and still maintain a fairly decent life.  I've made a shitload of sacrifices to pursue my art and sometimes I'm jealous when a car full of warm, dry folks cruises by me as I huff down Delaware ave on my bicycle in the bitter cold.  That said though, this is the life I chose and the physical, temporary challenges are beyond worth it to feel the way I do when I wake up in the morning and know I am free to be exactly who I am.

Along with feeling snarly and fierce, I think I project this image as well.  I can be intimidating to strangers who only see bleached hair, combat boots and torn clothes on the chick blowing snot-rockets onto cars parked in the bike lane.  Just like the ridge hair that stands up on this coyote's back because she's threatened and needs to appear larger than she is, a good portion of my bravado is making sure nobody mistakes me for a doormat.  

Here's a look at what I started with for this mount: I used a commercial coyote manikin and began with cutting it in half  to hollow out the chest cavity where the kitten would sit.  Once this was done, the two halves had to be rejoined.  I used a strong adhesive and reinforced the seam with wooden skewers.

 

I lined the inside with a hardening epoxy that would create a uniform and solid surface upon which I could lay lights and rhinestones.

 

Now the form was ready to be wired for electricity.  My friends over at Scenery First helped me out here- we wired up the proper length of cord to an LED light track, soldered it together and ran it down the along the inner thigh of the form.  It terminated in a jack that would be plugged into the other half of the cord upon installation, which was nestled into the steel base (also created by Scenery First)

I aimed the lights inward in order to illuminate the crystals and fill the chest with light.

 

                                                                         Tada!

 

Which brings me to the kitten element of this self portrait.  Being autonomous and pursuing my dreams without any higher power to really tell me how can be scary.  Being a woman in a typically male dominated trade has left me feeling tiny and alone at times, not unlike this kitten who is the poster child for vulnerability.  This particular specimen was a barn kitten, brother to Cookie Salad, another barn kitten who is thriving and well up at my darlings' farm in Cobelskill NY. Like most kittens, he was adorable and craved touch, connection.  This I can relate to.  I believe many of us can.  We long for human connection but it can be such a tightrope walk as we attempt to avoid getting hurt.  Most of the shitty behaviour in the world can be attributed to our fear of being hurt by someone else, I think.

I've embellish med my presentation a bit here but that's the gist of what I stood and said in front of the judges on the show.  Another part that didn't make it to air but I find quite fascinating is how I resolved the issue of not having a form to use for the kitten hide.  What I wound up doing was my first carcass cast, which I now swear by as far as making custom forms.

First I made a negative mold by pouring a latex solution into my container.  The kitten carcass was inside, frozen into the desired position.

The tricky part was time.  The solution needed at least 6 hours to set, and this carcass would start thawing as soon as I took it out of the freezer.  I could only hope that it wouldn't slump out of position as the hours passed.  

The moment of truth:

  

Perfection!  It reminds me of Hans Solo trapped in whatever that stuff was.

 

Here's the negative mold. The carcass has been removed and the next step is taping the mold back together inside the container and pouring expanding foam inside to make the positive mold.

Classic first timer's blunder- I used way too much foam!

It took over an hour to chip and chisel away into the mold and dig out this little gem.  Completely worth it though!   Look at the detail on his little ribs!

After altering the form a little bit, and prepping it, I taxied the skin on.  

In case you were wondering, yes, from time to time I cry while I work- especially when the subject it little baby animals.

 

Meanwhile, I was lining the inside of the coyote chest with Swarovski crystals.  This took fifteen hours at least.

 

One of the last steps was fitting the stand with custom cut mirrored acrylic.  This was to convey the surprise underneath the coyote while keeping everything at the  correct eye level.  As the viewer approaches, they see the coyote with all the chandelier beads, mimicking intestines,  dripping down and a burst of light form her chest.  The beads draw the eye down to the mirror which reflects the kitten above.  This entices the viewer to then approach and look directly underneath. 

Hi!

                                                                     C'est tout!

*That scenario will never occur because I intend to be cremated.

PEACOCKS!!!

 This post is directly copied and pasted from my favorite blog The Farmers Husband.  Please enjoy, and keep them on your roster of good reads.  These guys are where I get most of my specimen and I love them to bits.  

Up next: Full break down and photos of my Self Portrait piece from my most recent episode of Immortalized

 

 

Unless it’s a peacock

March 12, 2013

“Um. Ok don’t be mad. So, I may have put a deposit down on a couple of goats.”
Almost two years ago, Bailey sheepishly broke this news to me. At that point, we were living in a row home in downtown Philadelphia and I had just accepted an exciting job offer. We had been discussing a mutual desire to someday move out of the city and try our hands at farming, but that was about it.

Bramble and Banbury. Our first babies are all grown up, soon to be having babies of their own.

But after the initial shock and anxiety faded away, I was just as excited about our new goats as he was, and it was all the motivation that we needed to really get the ball rolling on our initial farm hunt.
Over the next few months, though, I began to notice a pattern: Bailey and I would chat about a particular breed of goat or sheep, and a few days later he would tell me that he had found a too-good-to-be-true opportunity and had committed to the purchase of another animal. It was cute at first, and his enthusiasm was contagious- we made the majority of our livestock decisions and purchases together. But I’m a worrier and he’s a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, so we often have different definitions of “practical”.
A year later, I finally asked Bailey to stop buying animals without first discussing it with me. A perfectly valid request, I’d say. But then he would pick up a few ducks on his way from work. Some fertile chicken eggs would arrive in the mail. A couple of new goats, some rabbits, and then finally, Cordelia. You may recall that for my birthday last year, Bailey got me a surprise spotted Nubian goat. It was so thoughtful and I love her. But I wasn’t very happy at first. In fact, I was furious. After a long, silent, passive-aggressive drive home, I made him promise me that he would no longer, under any circumstances (even birthdays) buy any livestock (including poultry) without running it by me first. “Well,” I said, “unless it’s a peacock. I mean, if you find a really good deal that you just can’t pass up, then it’s OK.”
Well, you better believe that he took full advantage of that little loophole. And when he came home from a recent trip to Philadelphia to once again take part in the Philadelphia International Flower Show, he had two pair of India Blue peafowl in tow.

But how could I be upset? They are quite possibly the most beautiful creatures in the world. Plus, I gave him full permission.

These beauties are only a year old; the peacocks’ tails won’t be fully grown for another two years or so. And after that, they will live for up to 50 years!

We have already been discussing other colors of peafowl that we would like to someday own. I’m just counting the days until I come home to find some in the coop.

VINTAGE POST: "I like that Sheryl Crow, man. She can sing. Madonna though, she's a pig."

 Please enjoy this post from my early days in taxidermy school:


Today we finished our Mallard mounts; I'm pleased with what a nice specimen I was able to work with but not entirely stoked about the mount itself. I found the skinning  a challenge and spent extra time sewing up my holes:







I think the eyes are a little wonky and I realised too late that I secured the tail into place a bit crooked.  Mistakes like this can be remedied by corrective positioning, but I'd prefer not to make the mistake in the first place.  Here is the rear-view; tail feathers are taped in place for drying.







We then began skinning our hooded Mergansers, which I was very much looking forward to.  My heart sunk just a tad though when I made my first cut and saw that this duck was even fattier than the last one!







Speaking of grease, water fowl such as these two species have built-in  glands from which they can extract oil with their beaks to distribute all over their feathers and aid in flotation.  I cut them out of my Merganser and discreetly packed them away in my bag, hoping to discover a use for what surely must be nutrient-rich oil.  It seems like such a waste to me to keep tossing body parts in a garbage can.







Once home, I did a little research and found this product in which one of the main ingredients is duck preening oil.  I've read mixed reviews of the cream online, but I figure using the oil straight from the source with no chemicals can't hurt.  Besides, I've put stranger things on my face.  I'll keep you posted.



For these specimen, the original skull is used which means it remains attached to the head.  It can be tricky to invert without ripping the skin, especially when the head is on the larger side.  Also, it takes some finesse to cut away from the delicate ear/eye area. Here is mine, worked down to the beak.  After this the skull gets cleaned, which just might be my least favorite part.  Sorry, no pictures for that one.







My fellow student gave me some Venison steaks from a deer her husband had bagged.  She can't stand gamey-type meat so it was a relief to get it out of her fridge.  I was quite thankful and promised to give her a full report on the resulting meal.



When I got home I felt unusually tired so I skipped my hoop workout and drew a long hot bath instead while Sarah made dinner (leftover pork chops and salad). 



The tub is enormous and displayed exquisitely, as is everything else in the house.  Just to be silly, I scattered some flower petals over the water before easing in with my People magazine.







And yes, I was so blissed out that I took a moment to document it by taking a picture of my feet.  The tub was almost too big; it was difficult for me to stay upright since I couldn't reach the end.  I eventually just gave into it and sank down until just my nose poked out of the water.  I think I must have zoned out because the next thing I knew if was completely dark.  I got my cozy clothes on and went downstairs, built a fire and ate dinner with Sarah while we watched more "Flight of the Conchords".  Afterward we enjoyed some White Russians while I painted my nails.

Dances with Chickens (and goats, sheep, rabbits, sweeties, etc)

               
Recently. when the kind folks at Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction approached me about curating a show of my work, I responded with an enthusiastic yes (despite my having sworn off any type of gallery-style exhibition after a spell of lackluster experiences - AITA and their products/people are a sound and superior bunch and will always be near and dear to me). I took the opportunity to do something I've been itching to do for a while now- write a public love letter, of sorts, to my guys at The Farmer's Husband where about 99% of my specimen come from.




Meet Bailey and Thomas.  For those of you who don't already know these two dolls, they are a delightful pair who lived in Philadelphia until just a couple years ago.  While still in a row home in South Philly, they had already begun their slow and steady ascent into full blown farming with a chicken run, two beehives and many plants packed in their teeny back yard like a tetris champ's wet dream.
I met Bailey first when he contacted me through a mutual friend about borrowing some taxidermy to incorporate into a window display for his floral shop, MODA botanical.  It was kismet.  I had been admiring that shop for a few years and wondering who was behind the mind-altering arrangements on the other side of the windows.  I met Bailey at his house one day and he showed me the elegant urban farm system he'd set up outside.  I believe he sent me home with a couple fresh eggs.  I was smitten.  Thus began a long and careful courtship into Dear Friend Land, in which Bailey would call me when one of his chickens passed and I would come spend some time while collecting nature's spoils. 
Bailey is a thoughtful and deliberate person, like me.  Perhaps even more so.  I immediately admired him for his approach to this farm life he was taking on.  He knew from the start that he would eventually graduate to  "real" farm out in the country, but he also was smart enough to build a solid foundation upon which his future lifestyle could be layered upon.  No cutting corners when it comes to educating oneself on raising livestock and self sustainability.  Most of all, it was his calling and something he pursued on his own, not something to brag about (I think I brag about him and Thomas enough to pick up their boasting slack) or impress friends with- which I think is a dangerous trap many of us fall into at this time of intensely curated lifestyles crafted to be shared on social media.
Thomas came into Bailey's life shortly afterward and it was like I met my long lost brother.  I'm fairly certain that he and I shared a womb in another life.  I actually can't imagine Bailey without Thomas, now that I think about it.  It's like he was always there.
They fell in love, got more chickens, peeved the neighbors (deal crack and scream obscenities at 4 in the morning, YES.  Raise chickens in your yard that cluck and shit, NO) and decided to move on.  Two years and two farms later, they've grown and evolved beyond our wildest dreams. I wonder if they ever gaze out upon their 100+ acres housing chickens, turkeys, geese, peafowl, goats, sheep, and pigs, and scratch their heads in astonishment at how far they've come and how gracefully they did it. 
Anyway, I love these two.  I love their farm, their lifestyle, their philosophy, their aesthetic.  I love the way I feel when I'm there and the happiness hangover that lasts for days after I leave.  These are two delightful and compassionate people who make the most of every last bit life has to offer. I urge you to read their blog- it might change your life.  In fact, I'll spoon feed you and start repostig their posts on my own blog.

 

Hence the inspiration for this show.  Almost all the pieces on display are made from specimen sourced on the farm.

 

I often will use chickens in parts, separating the pelt from the wings and legs to make several different items.  Talon charms are my calling card, so to speak:

 I created several new mounts using chickens, showing them interacting with man-made elements.  I wanted to convey how smart and creative these little birdies can be, and personify them a bit just for fun.  This guy is guarding an antique glass light fixture filled with pretty trinkets.  Perhaps this will add a bit of edge to his game with the ladies.  Or maybe he actually is a lady.  I still have a hard time discerning the two!

 A yawning chicken in her repurposed bird cage, and another who can't handle the sight of skulls.

 

Many thanks to Daniel at AITA for providing all the farming accouterments.  His curating skills and sourcing ability really brought the show together.

 

A small vignette of life inside the farm.  

  

Goat hoof candle holders.  These are from Harriet, the 80 pound goat I skinned in my bathtub before I had a proper studio.  Her hide and head were incorporated in to a rug/floor lamp which is on display in the shop window for the show. Please come see her in person.

 Finally, what Diamond Tooth show would be complete without hats, my signature specialty?  All from chickens on the farm:

Thanks again to the folks at Art in the Age, and to Bailey & Thomas.  Seriously, read The Farmer's Husband to keep up with developments on the farm, and info on ordering some of their future edible delicacies like hand raised porrrrrrrrk! (I just had some a few weeks ago and it pretty much blew my mind).