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Graphite on handmade paper


12 x 12 inches

At one time I lived in the rural suburbs of Detroit, in a house surrounded by forests where I used to walk at night. Those woods were great anytime, day or night, but for me nighttime held a special charm. One of the most memorable was an autumn night when I was trying to call foxes using a rabbit-squeal sort of sound. There I was squeaking away in the darkness when suddenly, blood curdling screams pierced the night air. It was the most terrifying sound, like nothing I had ever heard. Gruesome scenes flashed through my mind. Then it happened again, and seemed to be moving closer! I stood motionless, wondering if I should run or keep still and wait. Just then, as I began to turn toward the sound, a large, silent shadow appeared from nowhere and I dropped to the ground to avoid being hit. Later at home, poring over books, I learned that Great Horned Owls sometimes use a “blood curdling scream” type vocalization, and it all began to make sense. For a moment I had become the hunted.

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