Have you ever seen a big old bumbling porcupine in a tree, high up on a branch that seems unable to possibly bear its weight? They climb far up and out on these branches to get at the new growth, at the tips. Often the branch is bending precariously, and I have read that porcupines often fall out of trees. Since this poses a clear risk of impalement and infection, the porcupine has evolved to produce an antibiotic that coats its quills.

I see many porcupines around my home, but I also like to draw species that I will never see in person in my lifetime, my Dodo blog logo being one example. I especially like the “living dinosaurs”, such as turtles, that evolved prior to and outlived the dinosaurs. Any creature, plant or animal, that has visible resilience, such as the “Methuselah trees” out west, the battered white pine on my road, and creatures that have protective textures such as snapping turtles, pangolins, or the huge Yellow Birch along our stream that lost its top in the last storm, all call out to me to honor them. They give me hope when I feel most vulnerable because they symbolize natural evolution as a Work in Progress.

I also like to create unexpected juxtapositions between things, because two unrelated things juxtaposed is where some meaning lies, in my human mind. Not that there is not meaning in a drawing of just a tree, to honor it, or being a tree, or being a seed of a tree, or a dead tree. But a juxtaposition allows me to draw a creature (and drawing is paying attention, and paying attention is part of love) and then I can add another layer!

These drawings in progress all contrast the ultimate power of the natural world with human-made pale approximations, that which we call culture and civilization. What is the strength of the crumbling Parthenon compared to the maternal instinct of a Loon? How precarious is the life of a porcupine compared to the Leaning Tower of Pisa? Porcupines win, because their species persists. What is a necklace crafted by an artist worth, when its beauty is borrowed from Abalone shells from the sea? What is literature, compared to the drama of an Arctic Tern’s migration of 25,000 miles, each year? The struggle to survive of one baby Opossum is worth more than our concepts of time.

These drawings, oddly, were not preconceived as such, even though they seem almost too obvious to me now. I never know what I will draw until I start drawing. Then, after a while, a series emerges, because I always work in series, based on what has been percolating in my mind. Series allow exploration, and what I discover in the process is very rewarding. I do not plan, beyond the start. I don’t sketch much. My artist notebooks contain mainly writing and notes from what I am reading. I read a lot of non-fiction science because I like to understand the how’s and whys. When I studied Animal&Veterinary Science I had to take Biochemistry, and when I did I announced: “I have met God!” Truly. The more I know, the more I know that I don’t know, and the mystery only grows.

Some of the finished drawings, below: