Author: Kevin Vestal

Taxidermy Tuesdays

The first incision is along the keel. My glove-covered fingers comb the European starling’s gray down feathers to the side in order to get a cleaner cut, but they keep drifting back to the bird’s belly. The top part of the chest is good for practice. When I cut too deep, I pierce the bird’s muscles, but don’t have to worry yet about accidentally releasing its last meal. Once I move down toward the stomach and intestines, however, the extent of my cuts starts to matter. Over my shoulder, Steven Sullivan pops in and out to check my progress....

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Acting the Artist

“I really need to stop wearing my sorority clothes to this class,” she said, narrowly dodging another murky splash. Although the sink’s basin was deep, the smooth curves of her speckled palette provided the perfect bounce board up to her sleeves. It was true. Abby Murray’s gray Kappa Alpha Theta sweater had no business as a smock. Although she considered herself an artist, painting wasn’t Abby’s strong suit. She preferred the stage. The rest of the class roster was comprised of 13 other theatre majors and minors. All are actors, not painters. So for most of the class, Abby...

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