When I opened the door of a friend’s taxidermy shop, I was greeted by a bull moose at eye level. Its massive head hung from a beam just inside the door, the antlers extending the width of the entryway.
Rick Richardson’s workbenches are a sort of guarded mystery in plain sight. Almost like a section of forest, the longer you stay and examine the surroundings, the more orderly and interesting things appear.
Objects emerge as curiosities — a giant pair of preening tweezers, painted bills, bird feet. I had never stayed long enough to learn much about the taxidermy process