The Collections of Dr. Mortenson

 There is a small scrap of a wood shingle awkwardly placed near the mouth of a groundhog burrow behind the large barn on The Shadow Farm. Scratched into the wood , the letters read "Dr. Mortenson, Embalmer".  The burrow was recently discovered and investigated, unveiling an odd little creature. Dr. Mortenson is about the size of a very small cat, and is very skilled in the collection and preservation of some very extraordinary specimens. It is unclear why Dr Mortenson has such a collection, and also a mystery as to where many of his specimens come from.

Dr Mortenson and his collection will be available for a detailed inspection and purchase on May 10th. Please purchase your ticket now from The Shadow Farm to attend this one-night only opportunity.

Edgar: a work in progress

I have been piecing at poor Edgar for a few weeks now. There is something about this little guy that I find fascinating. He has an old soul with an aura of profound sadness. At this point in the artistic process I like to pause and get to know the creature a bit before adding the finishing touches. Where does Edgar live? What does he do? (and most importantly) What has made him so sad?

Edgar will be going with me to the RAW:natural born artists show on May 10th.

Sedgewyck

The orange sodium lights hummed with a discord befitting the loneliness of the abandoned street. Sedgewyck glanced over his shoulder, not trusting the shadow that seemed to be following him in the dark night. It had been a long time since his paranoia had hit this hard and for this long. The days and nights melted into a blur of tragic proportions.

Thick black coffee and cigars fueled the nerve-raw insomniac, edging him deeper and deeper into his longest stretch of schizophrenia yet.

"They won't get me," Sedgewyck reassured himself.
"As long as I can stay awake, they can't get me."

Ready to paint

Here's a batch of creepers almost ready to paint. At this point they still look pretty rough, but will soon be showing their unique personalities. 2012 is starting to look like a busy year here at the Shadow Farm with plans to attend several conventions and art shows. Eyeing up the calendar, I'm going to have to get the creative gears moving in order to keep up.

Agony

There are needles in my eyes
and a large rusty knife pierces my forehead.
It hurts to breathe.
The pain is impossible
and yet here it is again.

Just leave me alone to die
my slow and painful death.

The Inigmatic Professor Phynn

Explorer. Cartographer. Scientist. Professor Phynn set out in the early 1920's to explore uncharted regions. It is unclear where his adventures took him or what his goal was. It is assumed he traveled north.

Somewhere cold.

Somewhere wet.

Happy New Year, Dammit

This is a guy I made as a Christmas present for my Father-In-Law. I haven't been posting much lately, but as January settles in I hope to change that. Here's to a fantastic 2012!

Saucy Little Chick

Looks like I can add "Boudoir Photographer" to my resume. This temptress is now available on Etsy.

A pair of 'Steins

Two versions of the Frankenstein Monster mugging for the camera.

Thug

Brute, Goon, Gorilla, Tough.

It seems "the Monster" may have associations with the mafia.

Three Monks

Despair

My head hurts.

The world is dark and cold.

Wallowing in an invisible sack of self loathing
one can only wonder why
the world seems so
oblivious to my pain.

What is the point in it all anyway?

Professor Phynn, WIP conitnued

Phynn wormed his way onto the bench this weekend for some long awaited tweaking. I have added some years to his robe, added a second scroll, and worked out placement of the belt that will eventually carry a variety of instruments for his scientific explorations. Still a bunch to do, but I feel pretty good about the base and direction he is going.

I need to now start thinking of brass telescopes, compasses, and indescribable steam-punk-ish accoutrement's.

His would-be sidekick has been banished to "The Shelf". I was getting absolutely no cooperation out of the guy and felt it would be better to set him aside rather than continue the frustration of seeing him mock me from prime bench-top space.
Take that, Bernoulli! ( yes, the unfinished thing has a name already)

Captain Lobotomy

Fronkensteen

Sometimes the clay knows best. I started this piece a week ago with no direction or premise. It was just a lump of clay over a foil armature. As I do many times, I pushed and pulled at the clay until a character began to form. I had no idea I was about to visit the realms of one of the most iconic movie monsters ever, but what the heck, right? So anyway, I give to you my interpretation of The Frankenstein Monster.( with a definite steampunk vibe)

Oh wait....it is pronounced Fronkensteen!

Thatcher

Thatcher was once a strong and agile young man. He had a thriving business mending roofs for the townsfolk, farmers, and the dwellers of the woods. One day while he traveled deep into the forest, he happened across the small untidy hut of a feeble old lady. She beckoned to him.

"Thatcher,' she called out as he approached, "There is a hole in my roof. I have no money to pay, but can grant you a wish if you will fix my leaky roof."

Thatcher was familiar with bartering, but was woefully unaware of the underhanded dealings of the crazy old "bottle lady". He kindheartedly agreed, knowing he would collect no payment this day, and started the repairs. Upon completion of the task, the old hag asked Thatcher what his wish was. Jokingly, he chuckled that he wished that hers was the last rooftop he ever saw.

As Thatcher lay down for the night, huddled under his cart, he thought of the old lady and his wish. When he woke the next morning, he found his wish had been granted. Thatcher was blind, and as requested, would never see another rooftop.

Idjit

Idjit is a very simple-minded fellow. He is always overjoyed when the kids come to visit his patch. He leaps and bounds thru the vines to greet them. Usually the children wet themselves and flee in fear for their lives. However, once in a while a poor soul will trip in panic, allowing Idjit to catch up and administer one of his life-ending hugs.

Poor, well-intentioned Idjit. He just doesn't know his own strength.

Now available to purchase on Etsy.

Pissant

There is a general sense of unrest in the patch this year. Having survived an extraordinarily hot summer, the pumpkins have grown weary of the annual slaughter of their kind. Some of the pumpkins have formed a rebellion against the coming harvest. Pissant has not joined.
He is just too disagreeable to join any movement no matter how noble the cause and how much the beliefs of the rebellion mirror his own. He would rather stand alone, guarding his little section of the pumpkin patch, ever ready to give a hardy tongue-lashing to any child unlucky enough to come within earshot...and good hard thwack with his craggy stick if they venture within striking distance. The neighborhood cats won't go near him. The woodchucks steer clear. Even the raccoons ( the most fearless of the night creatures) stay away from Pissant. So the small but mighty Pissant stands alone, always annoyed, while the cold of October bears down on us all.

Pissant is now for sale on Etsy!

Witches!

Witch. Hag. Crone. Biddy.
Sorceress. Enchantress. Siren.

Owls!

The Owl invasion has begun on The Shadow Farm. Here's the first 3 scouts checking out their surroundings and generally kicking back, waiting for more of their parliament to arrive.