Trophies, take one

Here are my "practice heads" in the order in which they were finished. The heads are all between 1" and 2" exclusive of hair and horns. You really have to click on the individual pictures to see them, as the shiny details don't show up at this size.

This one has hairplugs made of a child's halloween wig, rooted in follicles. I wish I had used less hair, but the follicles were there, and demanded tribute.


This one has a woven wig, made of extension hair from a ghetto beauty supply store. You can see a bit of the weaving in the second pic. It was very time consuming and fun, so I'm sure it will come in handy in the future. Don't mind the stray hairs hanging in his face. He also has horns fashioned out of glitter clay.

This is a kind of lousy portrait of an old friend-any guesses?



This one I did in a few minutes, hastily throwing it together to test a technique I found on the internet. I brushed the bronze powder on the clay before baking, and it did stick. I was skeptical.
I think it looks like some kind of zombie from a B-movie about voodoo. Not crazy about the sculpture, but happy about how it looks on the mount.

I happened to have the little shells dyed a similar color, so he has Buddha 'hair'. My favorite part is the scrap left over from the feathers of martyred peacocks. I saved it when I cut the eye parts of the feathers off, and I had to glue each feather shard on individually. Also very entertaining.



I hope to have better heads soon, with more durable horn mounts and hopefully some more 3-D shit, such as bodies. It is damn good to know where all my supplies are, for once. My photos suck.

new lounge

After a month of illness (an ulcer diagnosed and treated by my in-house naturopath-$40, total) I put my sights on rehabilitating our midgety back "yard". It's been a great place to get vitamin D and complain about the corruption of the FDA, the constant transit fare increases, and the general travails of life in this "sanctuary city for the rich".


The ivy is coming back in, after last year's slaughter. I'm supposed to revile it, but a can't, no more than the snails. Above, the plant god is attacked by ivy clingers-they are attempting to invade his eye socket.

I have my boneyard laid out, no complaints from 'management'.


I really am unrepentant about the snails. None of the plants on our floor is in danger of ravishment!


My Dad gave me this cow. A butcher job, clearly, poor thing. Now on to the obligatory cliche: Look how cute my cat is. He has become so much more friendly since we have been hanging around outside.