Stitching Wings

I stitch wings and bones together with wire. I taught myself basic taxidermy, when I first began raising chickens. I am a Chef, and a farmer. At one point in my career of running kitchens, ordering ingredients, and writing menus, I realized the damage done by commercial agriculture, and I wished to make a difference in the world. I began studying sustainable agriculture in a community college, and learned about a man by the name of Joel Salatin. He is a pioneer in the world of poly phase farming. He stresses the importance of whole animal philosophy.

You will see this presented in many hipster restaurants, butcher shops, and “woke” menus. It is a way to eat consciously, the way we used to, before we lost the desire to raise our own food. Mr. Salatin says one of the biggest impacts we can make on this planet, is to eat locally sourced foods, grow our own, and do back yard black market deals, like selling a dozen eggs to your friends at a cafe parking lot. Which I did, and still do, as many times as possible.

This gripped me tightly, this idea that one single person could make an impact. So I threw myself into raising my own food. I set myself up with a few dairy goats, and some hens, ducks, and geese. It was a huge project. A completely new world for me. I was raised on boats, on the coast of British Columbia, Canada. Not a farm, with livestock, in the high mountain desert. I learned quickly, the challenges were a welcome learning curve. I became a ‘Chicken Expert’ amongst my circle of friends.

My first time slaughtering chickens for meat, I was stunned by the amount of the creature that was still wasted, even when I saved what offal I personally would not eat, and turned that into dog food. My pups eat well indeed.

This waste was what drove me to learn taxidermy. YouTube and some good books can teach a person almost anything. Now I save the wings, head, feet, hide, beyond what my family will eat. Tacked and stretched, under a layer of salt and borax, the first birds I processed were ready after a few months. The dry california heat made the curing process shorter than I expected. That summer, hiking around Lake Tahoe, my lucky dogs and I came across a ram skull. It was remarkable, and we brought it home.

Sitting on my deck with the large sheep bone in my hand I had an epiphany. This should be art. And all the bird parts I had should be art also. With a clear mind and a quickly beating heart, I raced down to my shed and pulled the drying wings down. They were stunning. My roosters were quite lovely in their hayday, and in their death they shone almost more brightly. I whispered gratitude to them as I held the wings up against the Ram Skull.

Suddenly I was gathering all kinds of tools, bits, wires, hot glue gun, crystals. I had the gnarled dried feet of my meat birds, some duck wings, and the glorious rooster wings. My hands moved without thought. I felt calm. Strong. Confident. The pieces of creature all assembled beneath my fingers. At one point the baling wire stabbed my finger, as I shoved it through the sinew of the wing bones. I bled, and as I sucked my finger I stared at the new odd creature forming in front of me. Bandaging myself up, I kept at it.

I don't recall how much time passed exactly, but it felt like time stood still. It does that every time I make a new creature. I don’t think, I don’t plan them, they just happen. I feel like maybe the spirits choose to be created, and come to my hands like magic. I have made quite a few of these amalgamations over the years, and each time they 'bite' me. In some small way, a stab to the finger tip, a slice on a sharp edge on my palm. A little blood gift to the old gods. My creature art has been shown at galleries, festivals, farmers markets, and dance parties. I have had vegans, meat eaters, anyone and everyone, come up to me to thank me. For remembering these animals, past their death. To give them glamour and glitz, in a little artistic light, and honour them. I call them Skullptures.

In the making of these art creatures, I find peace. I stitch, I wrap, I weave, I create. The incessant thoughts that dig at ones mind during a busy day, all fade away. This may be one of the only true times my mind is clear, even more so than in meditation. I hold these animals in my hands and feel huge gratitude. Whole animal philosophy as best I can.

It has been eight years since I raised my first flock. It has been that long that I stopped working for large corporate restaurants as well. I have focussed my efforts on small mom and pop bistros, and my own catering.

Sharing garden space with close friends, and helping my neighbourhood community with their food projects, they in exchange help us with ours. Butchering day is a big day, and it means a bbq with your friends, and a freezer full of food to get you all through the next few months. For a Chef, this is glorious. And for me, as an artist, it means I get new art projects. New creature friends to honour.

This whole animal food and art philosophy for me exists on many levels. I get to create. To nurture. To give thanks. To be aware. To be proactive. To make a difference. I get to remember the strength it takes to be a meat eater. To eat healthy, and consciously. I get to remember what it means to be a Chef, what it means to be an Artist, and what it means to be human.

The pandemic shifted my life quite a bit, and this winter I did not have much time to spend on my art or farming. I have however, recently landed on a new lovely piece of organic food farm land. Just a few weeks ago, I began to assemble a new art studio space. The bones are gathering yet again. We butchered chickens last month, we have piglets in the pen, and rabbits in the yard. The garden is full to the brim and begging for a canning day already.

Always accepting new tools, new approaches, new processes, my art is ever evolving. Brighter colours, and new creatures. The sewing together of feathers and bones. My hands will stay busy, my heart will stay happy, my belly will stay full. Growing our own food, making art with gratitude, and supporting the local community with joy. This is how I find my inner peace. Well, all this, as well as selling black market organic eggs in a parking lot.