EL WOOWOO

Folkmanis. "Coyote Hand Puppet". 13".

"Wildform"

A depiction of what it feels to be in-between shapes, and where I like to imagine myself in this awkward form.

Most days I feel like a weird amalgamation of body parts that don't fit into the body I have. An ever changing mass of limbs, shifting and distorting, trying to shape itself into something it physically cannot. I overcompensate for my movements, lowering my posture as if ready to drop on all fours, I duck my head an extra depth to fit my ears below an obstacle, adjust the way I sit to make space for my tail or walk on my toes to acclimate to the feeling of paws.

Some days my phantom sensations are so strong that I feel it in my entire body. It is so physically distressing to viewing a body does not match the sensation or move in the way that it should. It can be emotionally difficult to move my body and sometimes | feel stuck, unable to move at all. It is an uncomfortable disconnection between mind and body.

"blithe traveler"

Walking through alleyways, taking shortcuts into overgrown empty lots, strolling into a claustrophobic corner store for a small break from the summer heat by the drink fridge. Learning the best bus routes to avoid the tourist crowds, getting to know the subway schedule by heart.

Coyote loves sitting in a quiet shady corner of a busy park and eating a greasy sandwich from the local shop for lunch, and coyote kind of likes the smell of beer and sweat and other bodily fluids that wafts out of busy bars on summer nights. Coyote watches hungrily when the rabbits are out nibbling on people's gardens in the early mornings, and coyote quietly protests every rat not chased when they scurry along the sidewalk at night. Coyote wants ice cream for dinner even when its vegan and teriyaki for dessert even when its been in the fridge for a day (or two) too long, and coyote wishes he had just a little bit less impulse control at the farmers market when the fresh fish are out.

Maybe this is part of why I don't draw as strong a delineation between human and animal as some therians do, nor reject humanity as strongly as some do. The coyote in me is animal and yet delights in humanity, wants to sniff around and make a practical home in the margins beneath blackberry brambles and concrete rather than dream fruitlessly of an idealized life in human-untouched wilderness. The wilderness doesn't have teriyaki.

Of course, I love “the wilderness” too, but I recognize how much the idea of wilderness is a constructed concept that's, paradoxically, deeply wrapped up in human perception. So many “untouched” places have been stewarded by human hands for thousands of years. So many wilderness documentaries of far off lands are a camera behind which sits an extensive film crew and bustling roads and towns full of human life.

gleaming white against the deepest baby blue