LOBA

I create artwork inspired by nonhuman animals using a variety of materials including acrylic paint, watercolor, pen and ink, naturally shed deer antlers, and real animal skulls and bones. I've recently branched into making jewelry with hemp, stones, shells, bones, teeth, claws, antlers, and other natural materials. Whether I'm painting, sculpting, or weaving jewelry, my goal is twofold: to bring reminders and representations of nature into an anthropocentric world that is increasingly without nature and wildlife, and to inspire a sense of awe and appreciation for our imperiled natural world and particularly its nonhuman inhabitants so that we take any further action necessary to be good stewards of our one and only home. Extinction is forever. My driving aesthetic is divergent from that of many other animal artists working today. I am a firm believer in animal personality, individuality, and even personhood: that's why I typically work large, use bold colors, and place the animal subject in a prominent and almost confrontational position, often an extreme close-up portrait of the face with particular attention given to the eyes. I often include idiosyncratic or even fantasy elements suggesting that animals have lives and stories far more interesting than they're usually given credit for. I want the viewer to confront the likelihood that we still have much to learn about the inner, private lives and emotions of animals. My interest in fantasy wildlife art led me to anthropomorphism, wherein artists give animals “human” features such as clothing, upright stance, or human speech. Once unflatteringly stereotyped and framed as a “fringe” interest, the anthropomorphic arts now attract a growing community with a significant following worldwide. And sometimes the animals I paint—whether they're given two legs or four—aren't animals at all, but real people I've assigned animal identities to. Whenever I meet someone new, it's reflexive for me to think of what animal they remind me of. I began collecting skulls to improve my understanding of animal anatomy for my animal art, but recently I’ve been painting the skulls themselves. Bones lend themselves to contrast and chiaroscuro, the powerful and decisive brush strokes that thrill any artist’s heart. The art world is filled with people who’ve seen the poetry in bones: Although she is best known for her flowers, Georgia O’Keeffe inspires me as the undisputed master of painting skulls. A portrait of O’Keeffe sitting beneath a massive elk skull hangs out in my studio, and I feel a strong sense of kinship to this artist who sent boxes of sun-bleached bones from the deserts of New Mexico back to her studio in New York. She too saw bones as “keenly alive.” Not only do I create paintings and photographs of bones, I also turn bones into sculptures with an acrylic paint process I developed to make skulls, bones, and antlers look like metal casts, often bronze, iron, or copper. My ultimate goal is to draw attention to the raw sculptural qualities of bones themselves. Many artists have begun working with skulls, bones, and other real animal products. Because the trade in animal products could cause population declines or even extinction, I strongly urge collectors of this type of art to buy only from artists who abide by strong ethical standards and can document the origin of any animal materials they use. I know the origins of all the animal products I use in my artwork and I obtain them legally and ethically, typically from secondhand sources such as estate sales; as gifts; as byproducts or waste products; and as field finds when legal. I am particularly drawn by opportunities to repair broken and seemingly valueless bones and skulls. Many of the skulls I use in my artwork were obtained broken or damaged and have had repair work done to take an object that otherwise would have been discarded and transform it into artwork that can be appreciated on its own terms.