the last moments of ms. bludschnozzle

it was a day not unlike any other in ms. bludschnozzle's short life. find a warm-blooded mammal. suck it's blood. rest and digest. then start all over again. it was the type of life that made perfect sense to her and she enjoyed the simplicity of the ritual. as far as she could tell, she was happy and one happy day blended into another. but on this afternoon, after she'd just finished digesting some particularly delicious black bear's blood, which had the sweet taste of wild blueberries and meadow flowers, she left her perch under the leaf of a birch tree and went looking for her next meal. the sun was setting and her senses heightened, reaching out for the sensation of heat and warm breath. she left the forest and crossed the shoreline, flying low above the water's surface, wondering if she could find that bear again, when the water exploded below her.

process

mighty mike develops

cluttered

one of the most annoying things for me is when my workspace becomes less of a workspace and more of a shelf. my current workspace is an old drawing table that i bought more than 25 years ago. i have yet to find a suitable set of shelves or cabinet to store all my implements of construction and so, as you can see, everything lives on top of the drawing table. this mess drives me crazy. wouldn't it be cool if someone invented a tool chest for artists? i imagine something like a multi-drawer tower on wheels similar to what professional car mechanics use but made more out of wood than metal and with old-timey craftsmanship and accents.

mighty mike

when my son was little, i'd tell him stories about mighty mike the musky, the biggest, baddest fish in the lake. in the stories, mighty mike was so big and so ferocious that no one could catch him and those who happened to hook him would lose not only their lure, but sometimes their rod and reel, and on occasion, a few lost their boat. no one knew just how big mighty mike was or had any idea when he'd strike next. the most unfortunate victim of mighty mike's escapades was frank johnson. everybody called him old man johnson because he was an old coot who'd lived on the lake since he was a young man. he'd built a cabin on the south end and he'd spend most of his summer days tooling around the lake in his little aluminum boat fishing. old man johnson had hooked mighty mike more times than anyone and it seemed he had suffered more than anyone as a result. to his friends, frank was an expert fisherman and he claimed that he had no desire to catch mighty mike. in fact, he was only interested in catching walleye and perch. none the less, mighty mike and old man johnson seemed destined to do battle. some say that their lives were so intertwined because frank had moved to the lake and started fishing it the day mighty mike was born.

this drawing is of a young mighty mike before he started wreaking havoc with unsuspecting fisherman and just before he met frank johnson for the first time.


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