Jim Stokes: The Universe in a Blade of Grass

By Jody Farrell

Jim stokes at work in his studioJim Stokes is excited. He’s motoring around his garageturned- studio, extolling the genius of a recently acquired remote for his dust collector. It allows him to work away on one of his numerous do-ityourself projects, and, instead of constantly having to cross the floor to flick the switch that clears the air, he uses the remote, and continues on, drilling, or sawing, or sanding his work. And move along he does. He apologizes for what he calls a mess, but it’s clear there’s a method happening here amidst the racks and racks of half-finished canvasses, homemade printing presses and framing supports. “It’s out of necessity,” Stokes says with a wave to the wooden lengths, some bought, some found or recycled. “I’m not by nature a good framer.”

I’ve no doubt that by this word, necessity, Stokes is referring, in part, to the grating reality that art doesn’t pay. Not well, at least. And that’s not because he isn’t well-known. He’s represented in Waterton, Calgary, and Edmonton, where, according to Marianne Scott, owner of Scott Gallery, Stokes’ recent solo show “left people clamouring for more.”

Stokes is also among those brave few for whom art is a daily job. He’s finding it a little easier these days, as his parallel role of stay-at-home-Dad has graduated from toilet training into taxi duty. But he keeps such a clipping pace, what with his painting, printmaking, framing, photographing, and ever-evolving knowledge of computers, one gets the notion that his term “necessity” also infers an overabundant need to keep busy.

Landscape Monotype My surprise at such energy in an artist catches me offguard. Stokes’ work reads relaxed, while his personality is anything but. I begin to realize that Jim Stokes, the person, is s u b s t a n t i a l l y different than the solitary, reflective type I imagined back in 1991 when I first moved to Grande Prairie and encountered his landscapes.

The marks Jim Stokes makes on canvas eminate a quiet sense of clarity. The wide-cut expanses of prairie he’s renown for are so fresh, so clearly meditative, it’s easy to imagine they’ve been created by some lotusseated painter whose state of enlightenment produces magnificent horizons, each substantially different in the subtlest way. These works speak to the prairie in all of us; that unobstructed world of possibility. The open, airy, endless sky; the ground, tilled, or dressed in flouncy scrub, and the ribbon of road, all evoke something only prairie people know.

Jim Stokes, the person, required a shift. I reconciled this wired bundle of energy with his peaceful panoramic prairies and came up with a new vision of the artist painting wildly, either in his studio, or out on location, the enlightened yogi coursing through his veins as he channels pure prairie essence onto a canvas.

“People are overjoyed when they see his work,” Scott says. “I think Jim’s paintings open people to their own emotional response to the prairies.” Stokes’ work stays fresh by leaving something to that imagination, she says. “He doesn’t dot all his i’s or cross all his t’s.”Paintbrush

Stokes wasn’t always as enamoured of his prairie roots. The Peace region native, like many young people, had to travel far and wide to discover that even the beautiful and fast-paced cities of Europe and New York can breed loneliness and despair.

“I came home to the everyday things, and found a sense of peace and well-being,” he says now. “I try to communicate that notion of place we all look for.” As he’s saying this, he picks up his little Jack Russell-Bichon dog, whose needs never go unattended to for long. Stokes stops frequently to fetch the toy she’s lost under the couch, or throw her a new one once she’s bored. This reverence for all living things comes through in his smaller prints of that common plant, the Indian paintbrush, whose presence along roadways, for many, represents the ragged and weedy. Stokes invests this prairie flower with a dignity and splendour that garnered its choice as poster image for The Prairie Art Gallery’s 2003 House and Garden Tour, a much-coveted honour for Peace region artists.

Stokes’ gratitude for community support, and his own tireless support for community, also takes energy and passion not available to most. Few artists get half as much accomplished while whittling away in solitude; fewer still, while visiting schools, hosting personal tours of their workspace, mentoring artists and sharing knowledge and computer skills with technology buffs.

Winter Light I wonder aloud if he’s consciously working toward an end, or if he’s just following his passion for interpreting the land. Stokes allows that he plans to include people in his work, because, he says, humanity is that “most important” element. His comment that “you don’t get good at things overnight,” offers up another link between Jim Stokes the person, and Jim Stokes the artist. A merging of the placid, methodical, painstaking creator who turns out quality work, and the ever-active, multi-tasker, who appears to be present to meet others’ needs, is indeed possible, but requires relentless wonder and reverence for the world. And a whole lot of time. There’s lots on his plate, but he’s not about to put it out there until he’s processed it entirely.

Asked to explain his intention in his landscapes, Stokes recalls 19th century American poet Walt Whitman, whose work addressed what Jim calls “the universe within the blade of grass.” His art, he says, seeks to reveal something of that seed of universality in the particular. And when you’re bent on examining the world from that perspective, it’s going to take some time.


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ico•nog•ra•phy n. the imagery or symbolism of an artist or body of art. By Jody Farrellhttp://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Vicki Hotte, 7 Bulls, Leaving" align="right" /> Vicki Hotte's cow paintings stemmed from her desire to continue her art once she'd returned to her Beaverlodge area ranch from a University of Victoria arts program. "We raised cows, so I'm used to them. I know the way they look in any position, the shape they take. I recognize them as a whole, and as individuals."Her first images dealt with these sensitivities to the animals. They were automatic sketches, not planned. Gradually, she explains, her cows took on the meaning of the continuum of life. "They're so.cowlike. Placid. Fat. So "there". I imagine that even 10,000 years ago, they looked the same lying down as they do today. They have been around so long they've become part of the earth."Hotte began adding washes to the background for a little "atmosphere." These were purposely nebulous: they were neither pasture nor fixed location, but rather a sense of air movement or dust. Later, the cows adopted something of a Biblical reference. One of the Hottes' herds was skinny by nature, and got Vicki thinking about the Pharaoh's dream of thin cows that came out of the river and ate the fat ones. She developed water-like background washes, which eventually doubled as skies. "The sky became the universe, with the cow as part of that universe."The recent sale of the farm and move into Grande Prairie has Hotte working the cow image as more of a pattern, or motif. A memory. She's done cows in clay, and lately, has begun carving a cow design out of plexiglass. The plastic medium's transparent nature gives a dreamlike, skylike quality to the animal. "They're a personal symbol; my mark," Hotte explains.http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Robert Guest - Third Marker Along Adams Ridge" align="left" /> Robert Guest's recent exhibition at The Prairie Art Gallery entitled 'Symbols in the Landscape,' featured Inukshuk-style markers the artist encountered while working in isolated lookout towers for Alberta Forest Service. His landscapes, done first as watercolours or drawings, not photographs, capture the incredible detail of the changing weather and surfaces of mountain ranges few of us will ever see.He is fascinated with symbols he finds in nature, including full moons, Indian tipis, and forest fires. These too, frequently appear in his work. "Most people relate to objects on a symbolic level," Guest says. "To me, symbols in the natural world stand for ideas and suggest stories or adventure apart from the literal. They add to the mystery. His painting 'Third Marker Along Adams Ridge,' shows a structure made to look like a traditional Native Inukshuk, located within three miles of the North border of Wilmore Wilderness Park, near Grande Cache. Guest figures markers like this one were probably built after 1950 to direct the traveller across a ridge. It can get foggy in these higher peaks, and people get lost or disoriented. Hunters and hikers follow the markers whose sequence eventually brings them to a road.Unfortunately, that third marker was toppled sometime last spring by what Guest figures must have been lightning. Its precariously high domain left it open to such forces of nature. The large pile of rubble that remains pays homage to impermanence and change."They talk," Guest says of the Inukshuks. "The wind wound through (third marker), sifting a musical sound. In hot weather, mosquitoes gathered behind it, making a loud hum. They didn't bite though. Maybe they're just partying.""The marker directs your attention upward. It also casts an odd shadow. Like a person. A companion in what is otherwise a world of rock and fog."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Jocelyn Morgan - Spiral Bracelet & Earrings" align="right" /> It's hard for Grande Prairie jewellery artist Jocelyn Morgan to pinpoint exactly when she began incorporating the spiral into her work. It was definitely there in her days at Emily Carr College in Vancouver in the 1980s. "But I'd travelled a lot too, and was always drawn to symbolism," she recalls.Morgan, whose father is a consultant for oil companies, spent early years abroad. Repeated patterns she encountered in Africa, the Middle East, and later, Ireland, influenced her creative style. The spiral, in particular, found its way into Morgan's world, its layers of meaning winding themselves into her everyday habits. She credits "working" the spiral for getting her through some very tough times."That idea of a swirl that starts in the middle and moves outward can be seen as doing two things. It can represent an inward and downward, or upward and open, flow of energy," Morgan explains.A person facing hardships so intense as to feel on the verge of implosion might envision a spiral of bodily energy drawing itself inward and down. But it can, with conscious effort, be worked in the opposite direction. Morgan finds that, worked inwardly, the spiral gets smaller, invisible, perhaps finite, where, worked outwardly, it would appear to have no end. The possibilities in directing that energy outward would be limitless. Years of consciously working the spiral is not only visible in her art, but has transformed Morgan into a soughtafter yoga practitioner."I love the more whimsical spiral, too," Morgan says of her chosen icon. "The whirling dervish; the fern we find in nature; the swirl in the ocean, and its shells. I love all of those images."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Paula Fiorini's Raku Polar Bear" align="left" />Paula Fiorini's obsession with bears began with, of all things, her travels on board ships. The ceramic artist, now living in Whitelaw, near Fairview, spent many childhood years sailing between Montreal and South Hampton with her travel-bug parents. "I came to know a lot of the crew. You would stand on deck and look at the wash, and all that green foam."Fiorini suspects that these misty water wonderlands, along with shipmates' tales of spotting the elusive "polar bear on the iceberg," infused her with a lifelong passion for the animal."I see so much fluidity, humanity in the bear," she explains. "People ascribe things to them, like left-handedness. Their form, their whole being, speaks to people."Her ceramic raku bears allowed for a hollow inside, a feature Fiorini finds as important as the sculpture's visible exterior. "I'm fascinated by that universe within."Fiorini also holds the creator accountable for a work's permanence or durability. "If you're going to make things, you have to take responsibility for them. If the world shifts, they have to have what it takes to survive."This sense of duty for one's creations, along with a certain character in author Philip Pullman's novel 'The Golden Compass' influenced Fiorini's decision to take up welding."I was sculpting bears, using different glazes, trying always to make them bigger. In order to make them as big as I'd like, I had to make them solid. They were too heavy though. Not right." Somehow, the resulting clunkiness no longer gave that fluid quality that, for Fiorini, is the essence of the bear.'The Golden Compass' bear wore armour. Fiorini identified strongly with this character, and began toying with the notion of incorporating metal protection into her bears. The armour parts of her works would be welded together; the visible "bear" parts would be raku ceramics. The combination would meet her desire to increase its scale, while both keeping the animal fluid-looking and giving it that added durability should something shift in the atmosphere.Fiorini is still getting proficient at welding. And the big armoured bear? It presents the kind of challenge that keeps her awake at night. She's sketching plans and thinking it all through."It's all in my head, baby," says a determined Fiorini.
13 years ago

ico•nog•ra•phy n. the imagery or symbolism of an artist or body of art. By Jody Farrellhttp://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Vicki Hotte, 7 Bulls, Leaving" align="right" /> Vicki Hotte's cow paintings stemmed from her desire to continue her art once she'd returned to her Beaverlodge area ranch from a University of Victoria arts program. "We raised cows, so I'm used to them. I know the way they look in any position, the shape they take. I recognize them as a whole, and as individuals."Her first images dealt with these sensitivities to the animals. They were automatic sketches, not planned. Gradually, she explains, her cows took on the meaning of the continuum of life. "They're so.cowlike. Placid. Fat. So "there". I imagine that even 10,000 years ago, they looked the same lying down as they do today. They have been around so long they've become part of the earth."Hotte began adding washes to the background for a little "atmosphere." These were purposely nebulous: they were neither pasture nor fixed location, but rather a sense of air movement or dust. Later, the cows adopted something of a Biblical reference. One of the Hottes' herds was skinny by nature, and got Vicki thinking about the Pharaoh's dream of thin cows that came out of the river and ate the fat ones. She developed water-like background washes, which eventually doubled as skies. "The sky became the universe, with the cow as part of that universe."The recent sale of the farm and move into Grande Prairie has Hotte working the cow image as more of a pattern, or motif. A memory. She's done cows in clay, and lately, has begun carving a cow design out of plexiglass. The plastic medium's transparent nature gives a dreamlike, skylike quality to the animal. "They're a personal symbol; my mark," Hotte explains.http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Robert Guest - Third Marker Along Adams Ridge" align="left" /> Robert Guest's recent exhibition at The Prairie Art Gallery entitled 'Symbols in the Landscape,' featured Inukshuk-style markers the artist encountered while working in isolated lookout towers for Alberta Forest Service. His landscapes, done first as watercolours or drawings, not photographs, capture the incredible detail of the changing weather and surfaces of mountain ranges few of us will ever see.He is fascinated with symbols he finds in nature, including full moons, Indian tipis, and forest fires. These too, frequently appear in his work. "Most people relate to objects on a symbolic level," Guest says. "To me, symbols in the natural world stand for ideas and suggest stories or adventure apart from the literal. They add to the mystery. His painting 'Third Marker Along Adams Ridge,' shows a structure made to look like a traditional Native Inukshuk, located within three miles of the North border of Wilmore Wilderness Park, near Grande Cache. Guest figures markers like this one were probably built after 1950 to direct the traveller across a ridge. It can get foggy in these higher peaks, and people get lost or disoriented. Hunters and hikers follow the markers whose sequence eventually brings them to a road.Unfortunately, that third marker was toppled sometime last spring by what Guest figures must have been lightning. Its precariously high domain left it open to such forces of nature. The large pile of rubble that remains pays homage to impermanence and change."They talk," Guest says of the Inukshuks. "The wind wound through (third marker), sifting a musical sound. In hot weather, mosquitoes gathered behind it, making a loud hum. They didn't bite though. Maybe they're just partying.""The marker directs your attention upward. It also casts an odd shadow. Like a person. A companion in what is otherwise a world of rock and fog."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Jocelyn Morgan - Spiral Bracelet & Earrings" align="right" /> It's hard for Grande Prairie jewellery artist Jocelyn Morgan to pinpoint exactly when she began incorporating the spiral into her work. It was definitely there in her days at Emily Carr College in Vancouver in the 1980s. "But I'd travelled a lot too, and was always drawn to symbolism," she recalls.Morgan, whose father is a consultant for oil companies, spent early years abroad. Repeated patterns she encountered in Africa, the Middle East, and later, Ireland, influenced her creative style. The spiral, in particular, found its way into Morgan's world, its layers of meaning winding themselves into her everyday habits. She credits "working" the spiral for getting her through some very tough times."That idea of a swirl that starts in the middle and moves outward can be seen as doing two things. It can represent an inward and downward, or upward and open, flow of energy," Morgan explains.A person facing hardships so intense as to feel on the verge of implosion might envision a spiral of bodily energy drawing itself inward and down. But it can, with conscious effort, be worked in the opposite direction. Morgan finds that, worked inwardly, the spiral gets smaller, invisible, perhaps finite, where, worked outwardly, it would appear to have no end. The possibilities in directing that energy outward would be limitless. Years of consciously working the spiral is not only visible in her art, but has transformed Morgan into a soughtafter yoga practitioner."I love the more whimsical spiral, too," Morgan says of her chosen icon. "The whirling dervish; the fern we find in nature; the swirl in the ocean, and its shells. I love all of those images."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Paula Fiorini's Raku Polar Bear" align="left" />Paula Fiorini's obsession with bears began with, of all things, her travels on board ships. The ceramic artist, now living in Whitelaw, near Fairview, spent many childhood years sailing between Montreal and South Hampton with her travel-bug parents. "I came to know a lot of the crew. You would stand on deck and look at the wash, and all that green foam."Fiorini suspects that these misty water wonderlands, along with shipmates' tales of spotting the elusive "polar bear on the iceberg," infused her with a lifelong passion for the animal."I see so much fluidity, humanity in the bear," she explains. "People ascribe things to them, like left-handedness. Their form, their whole being, speaks to people."Her ceramic raku bears allowed for a hollow inside, a feature Fiorini finds as important as the sculpture's visible exterior. "I'm fascinated by that universe within."Fiorini also holds the creator accountable for a work's permanence or durability. "If you're going to make things, you have to take responsibility for them. If the world shifts, they have to have what it takes to survive."This sense of duty for one's creations, along with a certain character in author Philip Pullman's novel 'The Golden Compass' influenced Fiorini's decision to take up welding."I was sculpting bears, using different glazes, trying always to make them bigger. In order to make them as big as I'd like, I had to make them solid. They were too heavy though. Not right." Somehow, the resulting clunkiness no longer gave that fluid quality that, for Fiorini, is the essence of the bear.'The Golden Compass' bear wore armour. Fiorini identified strongly with this character, and began toying with the notion of incorporating metal protection into her bears. The armour parts of her works would be welded together; the visible "bear" parts would be raku ceramics. The combination would meet her desire to increase its scale, while both keeping the animal fluid-looking and giving it that added durability should something shift in the atmosphere.Fiorini is still getting proficient at welding. And the big armoured bear? It presents the kind of challenge that keeps her awake at night. She's sketching plans and thinking it all through."It's all in my head, baby," says a determined Fiorini.
13 years ago

ico•nog•ra•phy n. the imagery or symbolism of an artist or body of art. By Jody Farrellhttp://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Vicki Hotte, 7 Bulls, Leaving" align="right" /> Vicki Hotte's cow paintings stemmed from her desire to continue her art once she'd returned to her Beaverlodge area ranch from a University of Victoria arts program. "We raised cows, so I'm used to them. I know the way they look in any position, the shape they take. I recognize them as a whole, and as individuals."Her first images dealt with these sensitivities to the animals. They were automatic sketches, not planned. Gradually, she explains, her cows took on the meaning of the continuum of life. "They're so.cowlike. Placid. Fat. So "there". I imagine that even 10,000 years ago, they looked the same lying down as they do today. They have been around so long they've become part of the earth."Hotte began adding washes to the background for a little "atmosphere." These were purposely nebulous: they were neither pasture nor fixed location, but rather a sense of air movement or dust. Later, the cows adopted something of a Biblical reference. One of the Hottes' herds was skinny by nature, and got Vicki thinking about the Pharaoh's dream of thin cows that came out of the river and ate the fat ones. She developed water-like background washes, which eventually doubled as skies. "The sky became the universe, with the cow as part of that universe."The recent sale of the farm and move into Grande Prairie has Hotte working the cow image as more of a pattern, or motif. A memory. She's done cows in clay, and lately, has begun carving a cow design out of plexiglass. The plastic medium's transparent nature gives a dreamlike, skylike quality to the animal. "They're a personal symbol; my mark," Hotte explains.http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Robert Guest - Third Marker Along Adams Ridge" align="left" /> Robert Guest's recent exhibition at The Prairie Art Gallery entitled 'Symbols in the Landscape,' featured Inukshuk-style markers the artist encountered while working in isolated lookout towers for Alberta Forest Service. His landscapes, done first as watercolours or drawings, not photographs, capture the incredible detail of the changing weather and surfaces of mountain ranges few of us will ever see.He is fascinated with symbols he finds in nature, including full moons, Indian tipis, and forest fires. These too, frequently appear in his work. "Most people relate to objects on a symbolic level," Guest says. "To me, symbols in the natural world stand for ideas and suggest stories or adventure apart from the literal. They add to the mystery. His painting 'Third Marker Along Adams Ridge,' shows a structure made to look like a traditional Native Inukshuk, located within three miles of the North border of Wilmore Wilderness Park, near Grande Cache. Guest figures markers like this one were probably built after 1950 to direct the traveller across a ridge. It can get foggy in these higher peaks, and people get lost or disoriented. Hunters and hikers follow the markers whose sequence eventually brings them to a road.Unfortunately, that third marker was toppled sometime last spring by what Guest figures must have been lightning. Its precariously high domain left it open to such forces of nature. The large pile of rubble that remains pays homage to impermanence and change."They talk," Guest says of the Inukshuks. "The wind wound through (third marker), sifting a musical sound. In hot weather, mosquitoes gathered behind it, making a loud hum. They didn't bite though. Maybe they're just partying.""The marker directs your attention upward. It also casts an odd shadow. Like a person. A companion in what is otherwise a world of rock and fog."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Jocelyn Morgan - Spiral Bracelet & Earrings" align="right" /> It's hard for Grande Prairie jewellery artist Jocelyn Morgan to pinpoint exactly when she began incorporating the spiral into her work. It was definitely there in her days at Emily Carr College in Vancouver in the 1980s. "But I'd travelled a lot too, and was always drawn to symbolism," she recalls.Morgan, whose father is a consultant for oil companies, spent early years abroad. Repeated patterns she encountered in Africa, the Middle East, and later, Ireland, influenced her creative style. The spiral, in particular, found its way into Morgan's world, its layers of meaning winding themselves into her everyday habits. She credits "working" the spiral for getting her through some very tough times."That idea of a swirl that starts in the middle and moves outward can be seen as doing two things. It can represent an inward and downward, or upward and open, flow of energy," Morgan explains.A person facing hardships so intense as to feel on the verge of implosion might envision a spiral of bodily energy drawing itself inward and down. But it can, with conscious effort, be worked in the opposite direction. Morgan finds that, worked inwardly, the spiral gets smaller, invisible, perhaps finite, where, worked outwardly, it would appear to have no end. The possibilities in directing that energy outward would be limitless. Years of consciously working the spiral is not only visible in her art, but has transformed Morgan into a soughtafter yoga practitioner."I love the more whimsical spiral, too," Morgan says of her chosen icon. "The whirling dervish; the fern we find in nature; the swirl in the ocean, and its shells. I love all of those images."http://www.artofthepeace.ca/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/vicki-hotter-7-bulls-leavin.jpg" alt="Paula Fiorini's Raku Polar Bear" align="left" />Paula Fiorini's obsession with bears began with, of all things, her travels on board ships. The ceramic artist, now living in Whitelaw, near Fairview, spent many childhood years sailing between Montreal and South Hampton with her travel-bug parents. "I came to know a lot of the crew. You would stand on deck and look at the wash, and all that green foam."Fiorini suspects that these misty water wonderlands, along with shipmates' tales of spotting the elusive "polar bear on the iceberg," infused her with a lifelong passion for the animal."I see so much fluidity, humanity in the bear," she explains. "People ascribe things to them, like left-handedness. Their form, their whole being, speaks to people."Her ceramic raku bears allowed for a hollow inside, a feature Fiorini finds as important as the sculpture's visible exterior. "I'm fascinated by that universe within."Fiorini also holds the creator accountable for a work's permanence or durability. "If you're going to make things, you have to take responsibility for them. If the world shifts, they have to have what it takes to survive."This sense of duty for one's creations, along with a certain character in author Philip Pullman's novel 'The Golden Compass' influenced Fiorini's decision to take up welding."I was sculpting bears, using different glazes, trying always to make them bigger. In order to make them as big as I'd like, I had to make them solid. They were too heavy though. Not right." Somehow, the resulting clunkiness no longer gave that fluid quality that, for Fiorini, is the essence of the bear.'The Golden Compass' bear wore armour. Fiorini identified strongly with this character, and began toying with the notion of incorporating metal protection into her bears. The armour parts of her works would be welded together; the visible "bear" parts would be raku ceramics. The combination would meet her desire to increase its scale, while both keeping the animal fluid-looking and giving it that added durability should something shift in the atmosphere.Fiorini is still getting proficient at welding. And the big armoured bear? It presents the kind of challenge that keeps her awake at night. She's sketching plans and thinking it all through."It's all in my head, baby," says a determined Fiorini.
13 years ago