Without question, the most significant event of the last decade came to me in the form of a radio show in 2017. To the surprise of everyone participating in the show, a PETA spokesperson issued a statement sanctioning the use of humanely acquired dead animals for the purpose of art.Â
 It was an episode of The Current on CBC radio, hosted by the acclaimed radio and television journalist Anna Maria Tremonti. The show was about the genre of rogue taxidermy art and how the genre spurred the current taxidermy revival. The show featured several interviews with people associated with rogue taxidermy. As co-founder of the genre and the subsequent artistic movement, I was among the interviewees. The genre was the brainchild of co-founder Scott Bibus, co-founder Robert Marbury, and myself. In 2004 we coined the term ârogue taxidermyâ and formed an online artist collective based on our respective styles of sculpture. We then began recruiting artists working in a similar vein to join our collective and unite under the moniker of rogue taxidermy. The definition of rogue taxidermy that we set forth is: âA genre of pop-surrealist art characterized by mixed media sculptures containing conventional taxidermy-related materials that are used in an unconventional mannerâ. The genre encompasses a variety of materials and doesnât always involve animal parts, it can be entirely synthetic. However, the foundation of our collective was a doctrine that mandated animals could not be killed for the sake of art and all members of the group were required to adhere to this directive. Ultimately our efforts led to the collective spearheading an international artistic movement centered around our ideology and our aesthetic. It became known as the Rogue Taxidermy art movement. Predictably, PETA denounced it.
 Prior to forming our collective I had a long history of using animal remains in my art. And a long history of receiving pushback. I began incorporating animal parts into my art in the early 1990âs while earning my BFA from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design. Because of my love for animals, the philosophy underlying my work dictated that I only use animals that died of natural causes and roadkill. Out of respect for Mother Nature my mantra in the studio was âwaste not, want notâ because nothing that was once living should ever be taken for granted. So when I sat down with my fellow co-founders, Scott Bibus and Robert Marbury, to write up a charter for membership to our collective I clearly needed those precepts to be included. We wove them into the philosophical framework of the genre and this code of ethics was explicitly laid out on our collectiveâs website, just as it had been laid out on my own personal website for many years prior to forming the collective. My ethical practices had always been front and center on my personal website in the form of my artist statement and biography. My site conveyed the special bond I had with animals during my formative years and how the intimate relationships I had with them shaped my art. It explained how my work was an homage to the animal. How turning an animalâs body into a piece of art was the purest form of veneration; a type of veneration akin to the bejeweled remains of saints enshrined in Medieval Churches, or to the Victorian practice of creating mourning art out of the hair and teeth of deceased loved ones. I talked about my work being deeply rooted in a personal belief system that could be traced back to my childhood; a belief system that occupied the same place in my psyche that formal religion occupied in other peopleâs psyche. My work was a form of zoolatry.
 But none of that mattered to my sanctimonious haters. I was persecuted for my belief system for years. The lambasting often came from hypocrites who experienced no moral dilemma when eating or wearing a cow, yet they had a problem with me utilizing roadkill. It was the early 1990's and using an animalâs body in art was taboo. Animal activists throwing red paint onto the fur coats of celebrities and fashion runways was at the height of its popularity during this era. I was the victim of bullying for nearly 20 years in the form of endless hate mail, death threats, and being slandered in literature by prominent animal rights authors. The attacks generally had one of two themes; my art was disrespectful, and/or I needed to give the animals a proper burial. Apparently all animals are Christian LOLâŚ. FTR, burying the dead would be sacrilege in many cultures⌠But I digress. I never lashed out at my critics. Instead, I spent endless hours of my life responding to their misdirected hate with courteous email responses that reiterated the principles behind my work. I attempted to initiate conversations about tolerance by gently reminding them it was not their place to impose their standards, customs, and beliefs on other people (or onto a dead animal...) The concept of reverence is contingent upon intent and context. No one has the right to decide how someone else is allowed to venerate something. Nor does anyone have the right to force their aesthetics on someone else simply because something doesnât appeal to their tastes. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This (uphill) battle continued for years.
So fast forward to 2017... Never in my wildest fantasies did I think I would someday be sitting in a radio broadcasting booth where the sound bite following my interview would be a PETA representative speaking these words:Â
â[When discussing rogue taxidermy] The most important thing is to look at how the animal died. If the animal died naturally or in an accident, then PETA doesnât have a problem with preserving their carcass. . .âÂ
 The moment was surreal. Our mission finally resonated with the largest animal rights group in the world. And in that moment, this became a landmark radio broadcast. It was testament to the merit of our core values. Those of us who fought on the front lines took flak for decades as we carved out our niche. In doing so, we laid a path for others to follow. And many did. Via strength in numbers, and sheer perseverance, dialogue developed that began engaging the mainstream. Dialogue about human/animal relationships. About how humans process death. About the concept of reverence. And about making space for practices outside those of the dominant culture. The radio show was an achievement of a lifetime for me. Appeasing PETA was never a goal, and thatâs not the achievement. (I have probably taken issue with as many of their activities over the years as they have taken with mine.) The fact that they acknowledged our mission represented a higher accomplishment â it was an indicator that the movementâs ideology had influenced mainstream sensibilities. As an artist who has had to defend her work and her character for her entire life, it was incredibly validating in that regard. PETAâs statement was vindication of the tenets I had been actively championing for a quarter of a century.Â
 The "no kill" ethics platform of the Rogue Taxidermy art movement is a first-of-a-kind. Prior to the inception of the genre of Rogue Taxidermy art, never before in history had taxidermy been associated with the humane sourcing of animals. Conversely, taxidermy had been associated with the killing of animals. This stigma created a seemingly insurmountable hurdle for the movement. Historically, all groundbreaking cultural movements were considered deviant and radical at their inception. Encountering resistance is part of the birth of any movement that calls into question long-standing traditions and moral standards. But challenging established societal norms is how horizons are broadened and new concepts are assimilated. It's the fundamental basis of how culture evolves.
Clearly the statement issued by PETA is in no way saying all art created within the genre of Rogue Taxidermy is acceptable to them. Not everyone working under the umbrella of Rogue Taxidermy adheres to the genreâs cornerstone values. There is no lack of people exploiting the genreâs popularity to line their own pockets. I regularly see the catchphrase âethically-sourcedâ thrown around in situations where that descriptor is a real stretch. Of course there are gray areas, and of course there is room for interpretation on both sides of the fence. However, PETAâs statement was inarguably a milestone; one that was reached after an arduous journey of baby steps. To the artists working within the genre who are purists, and as such practice true humane-sourcing of their animals; hats off to every single one of you. #YouâveComeALongWayBaby
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I encourage you to replace your daily podcast time slot with this radio broadcast. Itâs worth every second of the 20-minute time investment, especially the last half  â You absolutely donât want to miss the extremely insightful interview with author, lecturer, and researcher Joanna Ebstein, founder of the Morbid Anatomy Museum. The segment also features the immensely talented Beth Beverly who was a fellow member of the rogue taxidermy artist collective.
 Click here to listen to the show ~
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Unabridged history of the art movement
https://www.sarina-brewer.com/introduction.html
My biography & artist statement
https://www.sarina-brewer.com/taxidermy-sculpture-artist-sarina-brewer.html  Â
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