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."

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.

Foetus Specimens

A fun little project I worked on today start to finish. The specimens are hand sculpted in DAS Air dry clay and painted with acrylics. I have several more in the works. The general reaction I have been getting from these is "Ewwww"

Perfect.

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)

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!

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.

It can only get stranger from here...

I just finished up a batch of small ghouls, and a few other projects now loom on the horizon.





..strange projects indeed.

2 new guys

Just finished these two guys... not much more to say than that.

The Harvest Rebellion

WARNING!
I urge you to read this and take heed. THE HARVEST REBELLION IS HERE! Spread the word before it is too late!

The pumpkins have had enough of the senseless slaughter that occurs every year in the humble fields across the world. Their homes are invaded and ransacked by humans with machetes, hatchets, and knives. Their kinsfolk are taken by the millions and mutilated in the name of 'holiday tradition'.

I have it on good authority that a rebellion force has assembled to guard the patch. They will do everything in their power to keep the invading humans at bay and put an end to the massacre once and for all.

You have been warned.

New witch completed

I just finished this witch as a custom order for one of my past Etsy customers. I do not mind saying this gal gave me quite a bit of trouble....there was something elusive about her facial expression early in the sculpt that drove me nuts. Early on, the expression was blank...no character or emotion displayed whatsoever. The unfinished piece sat on my bench for several weeks, staring up like a dead fish, mocking my lack of creative inspiration. I have learned that when a piece doesn't feel right it is best to put it away until new thoughts emerge. Such was the case with this witch....last week a new approach on the facial features came to me, inspired by the twin witches I posted last week. I raised the cheekbones, dropped the brow, defined some deep scowling lines in tightly pursed lips and all of a sudden she had an attitude. After I overcame that hurdle, the rest of the sculpt was relatively easy.

Creatures on the bench!

There has been a lot of activity in my shop lately in preparation for upcoming shows. This batch of creatures is merely the tip of the iceberg for the planned hoard I intend to unleash on the world over the next few months.
For those of you keeping track, this batch represents my first attempt at a ghost, a vampiric amphibian, and a virginal duck. I do not intend to list these pieces on etsy. If by chance you see something here that you just have to possess, contact me at theshadowfarm@gmail.com and I could be swayed to release the creature ahead of time.

The Sisters of the Waning Moon

Deep in the woods on the last nights before the moon goes dark, a chanting can be heard beneath the whispering wind and the drone of crickets. Some say it is merely the incessant call of the katydids rasping away in the night. But I know different. I have heard the twisted voices of a pair of twin witches known as The Sisters of the Waning Moon. Few have actually seen the old hags as they circle the abandoned well, chanting an ancient spell into the echoing abyss. Few would want to recount the memories of an encounter with evil divided. I have seen the Sisters but cannot allow myself to describe them for fear of losing my already shattered mind.