FAUNA: An Art Show

While I was working on FAUNA, the art show Margaret Gallagher envisioned, celebrating our urban wildlife, I had some strange encounters with animals.

"The witch didn't feed the little children she kept in the oven, 
but she fed the wild animals that came to her door." 
 (painting, centerfold of zine)

One was in a dream:  a ladder led up to a loft where a badger lived, but as I climbed up, I saw a shadow slinking back and forth, a panther, sleek and stealthy against the blue black night. I can't remember much else about the dream, but the sense of the big cat's movement and the color of the sky were visceral and stayed with me for the rest of the day.

One night as I worked in my garage/studio, a raccoon walked by. When he saw me, he growled fiercely, arching his back and then tiptoed away. It was just like I had drawn earlier in the day, a skunk on its tiptoes. I thought I was making stuff up; I'd never seen an animal on tiptoes before.

In my zine I tell the story of the wild animals next door. As I was working on it, I'd look out my kitchen window and there they'd be: the skunks eating out of the cat bowls. The coyote waiting to be fed. The crows, the stray cats, the raccoons. My neighbor whispering sweet nothings to them all. Life and art separated by a window screen. 

We had a wonderful time at our opening for FAUNA, with friends coming out to Perhspace, with enthusiasm and support. Margaret and I appreciated the warmth that filled the room. Until the show was hung that morning, I had no idea if it would work. I think we were both a little surprised when it did, the different styles complimenting each other and making a bigger whole. Here are a few pix from the show (photos by Tom Harjo):

Opening night

 (click on photos to enlarge)

My other neighbors who don't feed wild animals, and Greg

Wheat paste crow and skunks

(notice the tiptoes)

 
Coyote print with chine-colle, with Craig and Aaron

Margaret's sleeping coyote
(photo by Margaret Gallagher) 

FAUNA will be up until October, although by appointment only. If you're interested in coming by or know anyone who is, please get in touch with me by leaving a comment here, or email, lottobrand127@gmail.com, or fb: https://www.facebook.com/charlotte.hildebrand.14. I will arrange to meet whoever would like to see the show.

Art work is for sale, with 40% of the proceeds benefiting the California Wildlife Center. My zine is for sale as well...oh look, there it is below! Let me know if you'd like to buy one.

(silkscreen crow on butcher paper, cover)

Coyote Man

Sitting at my table, with the windows wide, I hear my neighbor talking to the coyote, who has suddenly appeared in her backyard. "Come here, come here, my beautiful boy!" she murmurs. But I don't believe her; it's not a boy and she knows it. The coyote started coming around a few years ago, after her husband died, looking for handouts. I never thought about it before, but of course! It makes perfect sense. The coyote isn't a boy, it's her husband. 

My neighbor used to feed the wild animals at the edge of the forest during the war. As a young girl, she left bread crumbs behind, when the family was forced to flee as refugees. Here, on the edge of the city, she feeds the coyote, skunks, possums, stray cats, raccoons. She feeds three fat crows perched on top of her garage, carrying on like the Marx Brothers. They hop around, cawing ceaselessly, then down to the ground next to the bowl of cat food and chase the cats away. These crows are as big as dogs; the cats don’t stand a chance. 

At first i thought my neighbor must be feeding all the animals cat food, but the more I observe her, the more I think it's real meat. Tonight, for instance, i could swear she fed the coyote a steak, specifically a rib-eye. Her husband used to love those steaks.

After dinner, my neighbor comes out with a mat and places it on the grass. Come here, come here, she begs her husband and pats the mat. I think she's going to lie down, but she steps away. I turn my back and when i look again the coyote's lying on the mat licking its paws, giving my neighbor moon eyes, following her with his gaze around the yard. They're bonded to each other in a very deep way, these two. This man and wife.

At 7pm, the lights go out, another brownout up here on the city's edge. An hour goes by, it grows dark, I can't see a thing. Then as my eyes adjust, I see some shadowy figures take shape next door. The skunk that comes around this time of night, and the coyote a little off to the side, dancing around each other. Coyote sits still and watches the skunk freak out, with its tail straight up in the air. Skunk keeps one eye on the coyote and one on the food bowl. I’ve seen this dance before, the coyote letting the skunk come and go, not at all interested.

Perhaps the coyote has already forgotten his wild ways, although, if it’s true he's my neighbor's husband, he’ll rip your throat out faster than a surprised skunk can spray, faster than crows can caw, faster than a coyote can turn into a man and back again. I wouldn’t call that exactly tame. You can never be sure with wild animals.

Sketch for new show

(click to see full)

Animals in the 'hood

My next door neighbor continues to feed the skunks and possums, there's chickens in these them hills, and strange reindeer have been spotted, but I'm thinking differently about wildlife these days. Instead of this highfalutin attitude of "undisturbed in nature," I say, "Welcome, all ye animals to the 'hood."

The regulars at Thea's

Old possum with skunk friend

Mt. Washington Chicken

This fine specimen was just sitting there, not moving a muscle...

I mean who am I to talk? I have rats for pets. 


The Rat's Nest would like to introduce its readers to its two newest members—Blu and Lily.

 Blu is blue

Lily is shy

I haven't had pets for awhile, or been responsible for anything livelier than a house plant. I hope I'm up for the task. These rats are wild little things; I've got to keep an eye on them or they'll disappear down a hole or out the door. They're hard to capture...by hand or in a photograph:

But it's nice to have rats for the Rat's Nest again. They can always be counted on for some good laughs and bringing new life to this old blog. More to come. 

(P.S. In case you're wondering, Lily and Blu are kept in a cage, but they get out to play a few times a day...)

A Tale About...

Once, there was a Crow...

and Crow would caw whenever it sensed danger...


CAW, CAW,


One day, it looked down from its perch, and saw a....

Coyote...

 and Crow cawed and cawed.

Coyote's appearance meant that food was coming, and so, other animals were on their way too.

Skunks. CAW CAW


and raccoons and possums. CAW CAW CAW


But mainly, 

Coyote. CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW


Crow looked down from its perch and saw, too, the old witch who fed the Coyote. She lived in a green house, with a green hedge and a green car, and whose complexion was a little green. 

She didn't feed the little children she kept in the oven, but she fed the wild animals that came to her door. She loved the animals more than the little children, and more than her neighbor, who had asked her not to feed the wild animals. 


At one time—about a week ago—the witch had told her neighbor that she wanted to have a good sense of community; the neighbor hadn't realized that what she meant was a community of wild things.


The witch whispered sweet nothings to the Coyote, as Coyote waited for its meal. She told the Coyote to be a good boy, Werden ein guter Junge; then cautiously she approached, while Coyote looked up at the bowl she held in both hands. 

They understood each other; one was wild, and the other, lonely, or crazy, or both.

The neighbor stayed hidden behind the hedges, because she didn't want the Coyote to bark at her; also, she didn't want to be turned into jello by the witch. She knew that witches can do stuff like that— turn bones into halva, or turn coyotes into humans.

End of story?  To be continued...CAW CAW