Skulls and Bone

drawn 2015-2025


I've been collecting skulls since I was a child. They've never been morbid—just part of the furniture. Both of my grandfathers were doctors, so having a human skull on a bookshelf at home didn't seem out of the ordinary. One of them encouraged me to read books on palaeontology and led me through zoology museums, where I could marvel at taxidermy animals and skeletal displays like ancient puzzles.

The other grandfather was a hunter, which meant animal skulls, hides, and bones were just as natural a part of my early environment as kitchen chairs or carpet patterns. That childhood blend of science, mystery, and a bit of the wild has stayed with me—and so has the collection.

To this day, I have a soft spot for skulls. Their forms are endlessly fascinating—so complex, yet perfectly functional; so strange, yet unmistakably beautiful. I've drawn them with pencil and charcoal, painted them in oil and ink, scanned and rendered them in 3D software, sculpted them in clay—and even made a woodblock-style stump print from one particularly charismatic specimen. Each skull feels like a quiet story waiting to be told—one that begins long before me and still keeps whispering.