Last bone collecting day I found three raven feathers, one by one, spread out over a distance of road verges. Being a bit of a hippy chick I took it to be pretty special, a bit of raven magic. By the time I got home--after getting bitten by a Jack Jumper (Tassie bullant with a bloody nasty sting) and being followed by two really cute, but very insistent dogs (might have been my backpack filled with bones?)--I'd decided to make the Raven Hexen.
I set out my bones, ready for cleaning and bleaching, went inside to get a beer, and came back out to see my dogs munching on the choicest. This is the danger of working with bones, my dogs share my obsession.
In making the Hexen I worked from the broomstick up. So by the time each broomstick was done I had a good idea of the type of witch who owned it.
I tend to work fairly compulsively on my sculptures. I don't over think things, and I let my intuitive side take over. It feels as if the sculpture I'm making is telling me what to do, and I'm just going along for the ride. Anyway, these Hexen exhausted me. And it didn't stop at three, after the Raven Hexen, two more witches demanded to be made. These two were pretty out there, with one having a little demon, and the bone equivalent of fluffy dice hanging from her broomstick, and the other insisting on a ridiculously feathery broomstick, and a boa. I said no to the boa.
Tasmanian wax sculptor, photomedia artist and writer.