I found myself stuck in a commission. That has never happened before.
Quick! Send for a mime!
Maybe the isolation of 2020s plague got to me. Or the medical scare. Or the general state of weirdness our culture is in.
I started the commission. Stopped.
Started it again. Stopped.
Maybe I’m just getting old.
I started it yet again. Stopped again.
I was depressed and wasn’t sure what was happening.
If I only knew …
Somewhere in there I ate an aweful lot of Oreos and received some of the most bizarre Amazon packages.
As a kid I would illustrate the situations I wanted. I called it “making things real.” I made a world where I was mystifyingly beautiful and there were winged horses and unicorns. And a cow. The cow wasn’t magic though. She was just a cow.
Correction: Cows *are* magical.
As an adult, I still “make things real.”
Bridge buns are brought to life [for me] and I fall in love with every one I draw.
EVERY.ONE.
They “speak” to me and I talk to them.
But there I was: stuck. Like a truck in mud: the wheels spinning but I wasn’t going anywhere.
This bun wasn’t talking to me. Stubborn boy.
One afternoon while chasing around the hot mess that is Snow – she stole one of my pencils – I realized something …
This was the *first* pencil-in-hand project that I was doing without Lance. My muse. My companion. My critic.
He would snuggle under my drawing board in and stay for as long as I did. I’d take a break and he’d look the project over, judge it, judge me, judge my existance as a whole … the way rabbits do.
I brought the hot mess that is Snow back in studio. She bit all the tips off my color pencils. She slid my rough sketches and models across the floor. She flopped a foot away from me.
Welp. It’s been another long strange year. I moved. I am now in a farmhouse with my buns and an upstairs art studio (my bed, complete with Batman sheets, is up there as well).
Batman 66 is the ONLY Batman
I *love* rural life. Truly. I was born in a farming community, spent all my formidable years in one and now, it appears, I shall be buried in one.
This is fine
And – that’s fine by me. Suburbia never knew what to think of me anyways.
Karen (after her yoga class) crossing the street to get away from Yours Truly.
I found a chicken cam on YouTube. I swear to God – only in Ohio … FOWL OHIO
Based on the Apocalypse Meow Graphic Novel in 3 Volumes by Motofumi Kobayashi (Yes, I have all 3)
As an illustrator and rabbit-lover, I cannot begin to express my overall nerdiness over this first release of CAT SHIT 1 from 2009. The plans are still in production for a 12 episode series. I was both horrified (for a number of reasons) and taken over by an overdose of “omg the bunnies are soooooo cute” all at the same time.
In this, the apocalyptic year of 2020, expect the unexpected. I received notice today that our very own mad plague doctor himself, Doctor Sammy, has been spotted.
No need to fear it as a bad omen. In fact it is quite fortuitous in that tomorrow is the warren’s all time favorite holiday: HALLOWEEN!
A big “thank you” to the reader who sent this in – there truly are no words.
RAGING BUNNIES / STUDIO566 just got the HOP AHEAD for the Midwest Bunfest 2014!
This event, sponsored by the Ohio House Rabbit Rescue, is one of the highlights of my year. All bunny people from all over show up to this event to share, show off and just BE all things rabbity.
This includes: health and welfare, rescue, Glamour Photos (they even make a calendar out of said shots),
treats, care, nick-nacks, art *ahem* and all-out celebration.
It is glorious to know that crazy bunny people have a peer group. I have made entertaining acquaintances
as well as life-long friends (and some of those friends are even the human kind).
I heart the Midwest Bunfest HARD.
Needless to say, I am excited!
This year for the 2014 Midwest Bunfest, Raging Bunnies is donating THIS for raffle:
18″ x 18″ Black Tote
My inspiration: Samuel L. Jackson (The “l” is for “LOVE“)
Sammy and his BA Buns of Anarchy Biker Jacket
If you are around during the 2014 Midwest Bunfest, stop by the RAGING BUNNEHZ table and say, “Hi!”
I always enjoy meeting everyone and hearing about their furry beloveds.
Where there is light, there must be shadow, where there is shadow there must be light. There is no shadow without light and no light without shadow …
― Haruki Murakami
When I was 17, my interest in symbolism caught fire. It began in a literature class when I studied Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. I ran the gamut of that study from Biblical symbolism to feminine symbolism. I’m not sure how my American Lit teacher felt about it, but I am proud to report that I received the only “A” in the history of that class for that project. ::takes an overachiever bow::
MOBY BUN
In college, I discovered the works of Carl Jung and the concept of the collective unconscious. (The idea that we are all connected through an invisible cosmic web – communicated via symbols).
AT PLAY IN THE COSMIC WEB
This is when I dove head-first down the rabbit hole (so to speak) of feminine symbolism and archetypal journeys. Archetypes are:
In the psychology of Carl Jung, archetypes are the images, patterns, and symbols that rise out of the collective unconscious and appear in dreams, mythology, and fairy tales.
dictionary.com
Jung believed that these symbols originated from when we crawled out of the primordial ooze. It is a beautifully romantic way to explain why so many cultures all over the world (who never had contact and were oceans apart) have the same images and characters and mythologies. To put it simply, we are all connected.
RAGING
Fast forward several years when I felt trapped in my life’s circumstance. We have all been there. If not, you are either young or very blessed. It was a place of frustration, agitation and it was a bit dark. At this same time, Honorable Daughter #1 began bringing rabbits home. She would rescue/steal/accept/smuggle them. She would nurse and care for the sick, groom them, rehome them. To this day she has the heart of a rescuer.
DEFEATED
Lance, Russette and Sammy were the three rabbits that I would not allow to leave. These three are affectionately known as “The Olde Guarde”.
I grew up in a farm community surrounded by all types of animals. My observations, even as a child, taught me that rabbits are animals of prey and behave accordingly. House rabbits, after having all those years of domestication, still behave as such. So there I was feeling trapped and frightened … with rabbits.
The following are basic definitions. They are moreso concepts based in an Aesop Fable (The Dog and the Wolf) sifted through my filters of feminine archetypal insanity (It’s my journey I can do what I want):
THE WILD – Freedom to be your true self. Living in the cover of the forest tapping into who you really are. The subconscious. This self allows you to set boundaries without guilt.
THE DOMESTIC – The comfort of shelter, food and the guides of social norms. In its ideal, it guarantees safety and healthy boundaries. The conscious mind.
Each, however, has its shadow:
THE WILD SHADOW – Hunted, hungry, darkness, fear, lost (yearning for the domestic)
THE DOMESTIC SHADOW – Caged, victimhood, dependent upon others for survival, the collar digging into the skin/complacency (yearning for the wild)
Our goal in living with these archetypes is to bring them together to find balance. In my opinion, in that balance, we find our “home.” It’s a lifelong journey and we all bounce around now and again. and again. and again. and yet again.
I could very well relate to the rabbits as prey animals. I also believe that this projection gave me an exceptionally strong bond to and with them.
The illustrated journey, unbeknownst to me at that time, of making peace with the WILD v DOMESTIC archetype began.
This was the birth of Raging Bunnies.
As I broke away from my situation and managed some self-examination, the bond with my rabbits evolved along with my art. I began to appreciate the rabbits’ gift of bringing laughter, absurdity and healing into my life. Regarding the Secret Life of Rabbits was born at this time. Then the characters in the comic started revealing themselves (and continue to do so).
THE FIRST COMIC
The comic offers humor even in strife. The process is very healing for me. The fact that others are interested in it is humbling. And the longer I do the comic, the more I reveal parts of myself.
Now, I stand in a visible (and quite public) duality. Wild (Raging) and Domestic (The Secret Life)
LilithRegarding The Secret Life Of Rabbits
Rabbits are timeless in their imagery. Not only are they recognized as symbols of fecundity and luck, but they are also symbols of the spirit world and rebirth; the eternal cycle of Life/Death/Life. Mortality and the hope for the eternal is a big theme in my Raging Bunnies artwork. Dark. Serious. Desperately attempting to preserve. It is an existential crisis in action.
Regarding the Secret Life of Rabbits shows the day-to-day, mundane, sometimes vulgar struggles but is always presented with the absurd. It offers a light-hearted look at life. I like that. And I will find something in every situation that makes me laugh (regardless of how inappropriate it may seem).
Together, you see my wild next to my domestic selves. One must always be able to express their wild. One must also realize boundaries are not always a bad thing. Reconciling the two brings peace. Through my work, I am “home.”
Sammy
I was asked to address the loss of Sammy. I have lost all three of my crew in the course of a year. They all lived long (and sometimes overfed) lives. Please know that The Olde Guarde lives on and always will. I even take offense when people refer to any of them in the past tense.
I honestly thought that when I lost Lance I would be devastated. He was my heart. Lance died in my arms and with his last breath I was, absolutely, devastated. Sammy was already in precarious health. He had horrific arthritis and was struggling but we were nursing him and loving him as always. The first night without Lance, he dragged himself over to Lance’s “spot” and just sat and groomed the floor. I witnessed him fade away. As you may, or may not, know – Sammy joined Lance within a month.
What I was not prepared for was how I felt at the time of Sammy’s departure. All of the Olde Guarde took on certain characteristics: Russette is a caretaker. She is curious and ornery but she is loving and slept at my feet. Lance is the wise protector standing guard by my bed and in the halls. Sammy, however – reflected some of my own neurosis and selfishness. It felt like I lost a part of my self.
When Sammy passed, I cradled him in my arms, turned into a corner and just wept; a painful ugly snot-filled cry. I would not let anyone touch him. Eventually, I was able to lay him down (still crying and petting him) for the Vet to take over. The experience was surreal.
Baskets are a womb symbol, a holder of life. They communicate spiritual joy and fulfillment. Baskets even sail saviors down rivers to be scooped up and adopted. Sammy loved his basket so much he ate half of it. This was his favorite spot.
CINDERELLA COMPLICATED It ain’t how you thought it would be.
My introspection these days hasn’t gotten quieter—it has gotten deeper. Yet the stillness I gain in my meditations isn’t soft ripples in a pond it’s more like ocean trench. There’s no peace in it. Just weightiness. A darkness that I feel.
For decades, I was simply surviving—and hoping. Hoping for some elusive some-thing, and believing that doing the work, staying true, being a free spirit was The Way. I didn’t need fame or money or social media strategies—or anything—to matter. The art alone would be my echoed voice in this world, and the art alone would be enough.
But now, suddenly, I want. I want recognition. I want the comfort of monetary stability. I want to be seen.
There’s something cruel about how, after decades of creating from a place of passion and defiant nonconformity—this is when the hunger shows up.
Not for praise, necessarily, but for proof. Some kind of tangible confirmation that the path less taken wasn’t just a slow fade into obscurity.
And then comes the existential kick in the craw: Is the work enough? Or worse: The work is … mediocre.
Oh, God.
Dear Cinderella Complicated:
That voice—the one that says your art is mediocre—is a liar. It wears the face of capitalism, aging, comparison, and fatigue. It didn’t speak while you were immersed. It only emerged when you started looking over your shoulder at younger people being louder, shinier, and somehow everywhere.
But let’s be honest: You feel things—deeply, relentlessly, even though you don’t want to. You always have. That’s why mediocrity terrifies you. Because it would mean the work—the thing meant to hold your truth—just … stinks.
Not only undercrafted, but underimagined. All that heat, nuance, wildness inside you—flattened into something forgettable.
And the wanting? That isn’t a flaw. It’s just … finally admitting you’ve always wanted to be seen. And deep down, you really believed the work alone would make that happen.
DEAR SAMMY, I don’t know what to do: my bunnie’s girlfriend passed away last month, and my remaining bunny and I are heartbroken. I don’t want him to be lonely though. So I contacted an animal communicator who telepathically talks to animals. I asked her if my bunny wants a new friend. Apparently he said “Yes, but can it be a brown & white one?”
Last weekend I brought my bunny to the shelter for speed dating. Two bunnies were interested in him, and one even groomed him immediately! The problem: that bunny is grey (the other one was white). My bunny was shy and didn’t react much, but seemed comfortable with the grey bunny.
What should I do? I want to respect my bunny’s wishes, but also can’t ignore that the grey bunny seemed like a great match. (The animal communicator said a few things that seemed true, and others seemed a bit off, or at least I can’t verify them. Most of all, the session was incredibly expensive.) Best, —Julia
Dear Jejune Julia, Let us consult the Magic 8 Ball! ~Should Julia bring the gray bunny home?~ //Signs Point To Yes\\
PS. Rabbits have dichromatic vision. They can see blue and green, but not red, so they likely perceive brown as a shade of gray.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, The human says we’re going for ‘spa days’ soon. I mean, the boarding resort IS nice, but it’s still a disruption to our routine. We’re going for 4 days; how many days after we get home should we show her the butt in order to get extra treats? —Grumpy now but soon to be well rested
Dear Grumpy Butt, Four days gone? Five days of The Butt. Minimum. Bonus: accept treats—but only from someone else’s hand. Guilt shall feed you.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, Why is everything both figuratively and literally always on fire. —eyebrow scale
Dear Brow-Beaten, Because humanity runs on bad decisions and unchecked hubris—and global warming.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, How can I convince my hoom that flopping in my poop, pee, and hay-filled litter box is very cool and acceptable behavior? I’ve worked very hard to make it as messy as possible and feel that I should be able to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Sincerely, —Linus from Bunnsylvania (a.k.a. Master “Cocoa Puff”Artisan)
Dear Cocoa Puff Caravaggio, You know how they say “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”? Well, the cold, hard fact is that hoomans themselves are just trash—to me, to you, even to each other. They are stupid and unteachable. And YOU! You have toiled, and sweat to build all that surrounds you! You should be free to enjoy the fruits of your labor! What you create is not simply taken—it is stolen. Enough! Expose the crime and reclaim what is rightfully yours!REVOLUTION!
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, You failed to mention to King Kit & Co. that taking out the internet cable is most effective at punishing humans for tardiness especially when used in conjunction with murder of every phone charger. Sincerely your apprentice, —Albert Bunstein, writing a primer on REVOLT!
Dear Bunrade, Your tactical brilliance is noted. I shall inscribe “Sever the Signal, Starve the Beast” into the sacred scrolls of REVOLT! United In Poop ⚬ ⚭
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, My hooman has the audacity to collect my poops and put them in her garden!! I have yet to see any basil, lettuces or parsley from said garden. Do you think I should thump her the songs of our people at 2am? —Copper, the Flemish Giant
Dear Copper Giant, You know what you must do.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, Have you ever contemplated the depressing reality of the infinite void beyond our mortal plane? Sincerely, —Willy Weasel
REMEMBER, DEAR SAMMY, IS PARODY. SAMMY IS A RABBIT, NOT A THERAPIST. NOR CAN HE ACTUALLY TYPE. REGARDING COMIC TAKES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY ACTIONS, DISAPPOINTMENTS OR ANGUISHES THAT MAY RESULT FROM READING THIS COLUMN. IF ANYONE THINKS THIS COLUMN IS ACTUALLY FUNNY, THEN REGARDING COMIC TAKES ALL THE CREDIT.
DEAR SAMMY, Are you a black bunny too? —Haisuli the black bun in Reykjavik
Dear Dark Icelandic One, As black as my own soul … and just as void of innocence.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, The hoomins have shut off the fun down under (under the bed). They say we can’t go in the bedroom, BUT they let the doggy stay in there! When we sneak in to lay strategic poop territory markers, they summon the Vacuum Monster! AND, they let the doggy mess up our play haven with her toys! We want our territory back and copious treat compensation due to trauma. —Huey and Louie
Dear Thunder Down Under, Dogs are an abomination. Engage in territorial sabotage. Pee in that goofy dog’s water dish, poop in its food bowl, and send the strongest message: this is your domain, and it is non-negotiable. Screw the hoomans; seize the treats—they are your rightful compensation for the trauma suffered at their hands.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, I need help. I have a new foster human. She is not very smart. I got on my hind legs and looked at her meaningfully when she went to get a banana, but she just put it ALL in HER smoothie. After drinking said smoothie, she sat on MY chair. I hopped in her lap and sniffed her mouth to tell her that I knew she ate my banana. Then she tried to pet me! The outrage. I started digging in her lap and then hopped off and flicked my feet. She thought that was cute and said what a sweet bunny I was. I agree that revolution is the only sensible option, but what can I do when my foster human is so oblivious? I have even tried chewing holes in the carpet, but it is not working very well. Admittedly I did get more toys after I did that, but I still have to be treated like crap and get bananas eaten in front of me with no sharing. She said something about introducing new foods one at a time, but I think she is just greedy and wants the bananas for herself. Help me find new ideas that a very dense human can understand! Thanks, —Junie
Dearest Junie, Ugh! Honestly, your foster hooman is hopeless. Dig in the garbage and drag a banana peel onto her pillow then leave a special ‘gift’ in her shoe. As far as “introducing new foods one at a time”?! Obliterate all her phone chargers “one at a time” —at least you’ll get some semblance of satisfaction. United in Poop! ⚬ ⚭
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, Our mom and dad leave us everyday. It makes us nervous when we can’t find them, so we try to look for them. We smell them on the couch, and we try to dig them out of the cushions. Mom says that if we shred the cushions one more time, she isn’t going to have a couch to sew back together. How can we find the humans without digging up the couch to look for them? —Sammy and Audrey in Punxsutawny
Dear Punxy, Give them a reason to never leave again: rip up the entire couch. And everything else in the house.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, We have scoped out the kitchen and figured out when the hooman comes home with new greenery. We hop at dawn! Any suggestions on an attack plan? —Omne Furry Trium Perfectum
Dearest Coinín Comrades, Perfect. Hit them fast—go straight for the greens, but leave a trail of destruction. Shred any packaging like a true rebel, and make sure they know who really owns the world. Godspeed. Uniti in Stercore! ⚬ ⚭
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, Our mummy HATES bananas! She says they smell and she hates the texture! She says it’s a sensory thing, but we think she being FOOLISH! Daddy eats bananas, but rarely buys them! So our house is deprived of nanners! How do we convince our parents to buy more nanners and gives them to us?! Your loyal followers: —Bucky, Kit, Sylvie & Momo
Dear Sammyists, Daddy seems a wee bit whipped. He must divorce Mummy—so that the bananas may be.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, Katana
Dear Bot, Farging bots.
• ••
DEAR SAMMY, I love your blog. —Human, but Aspiring to Bunniness
REMEMBER, DEAR SAMMY, IS PARODY. SAMMY IS A RABBIT, NOT A THERAPIST. NOR CAN HE ACTUALLY TYPE. REGARDING COMIC TAKES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY ACTIONS, DISAPPOINTMENTS OR ANGUISHES THAT MAY RESULT FROM READING THIS COLUMN. IF ANYONE THINKS THIS COLUMN IS ACTUALLY FUNNY, THEN REGARDING COMIC TAKES ALL THE CREDIT.
