Three Years. Countless Bones. One Closet.
When I started drawing dog skulls back in 2018, I wasn’t planning on illustrating over 130 breeds. I certainly wasn’t planning to squish 128 full skeletons onto a single print.
But here we are.
When I started drawing dog skulls back in 2018, I wasn’t planning on illustrating over 130 breeds. I certainly wasn’t planning to squish 128 full skeletons onto a single print.
But here we are.
Spare me the origin story. Where’s the damn print?
But you get so wrapped up in the day-to-day that you forget to realize you were still making small steps towards it?
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I’m an ex-scientist.
That means I’ve spent a good amount of my adult life attempting to publish research. When you work in academia, you don’t dare release your findings until all the i’s are dotted and the t’s crossed. And, even when you think you’re ready, some reviewer is sure to trash the crap out of it. In academia, your peers decide the importance of your contributions.
And, in academia, that’s how it should be.
I left the Ivory Tower over a decade ago to work for myself and, for much of the time since, I've worked as a science animator. It’s a job I enjoy, and I consider myself lucky to be doing it.
But producing work for others also involves rounds of pitching and rejection.
And, in some strange way, you get used to it all.
The gatekeepers. The permission slips.
The waiting...
I created a half dozen dog skulls for a pitch that was ultimately met with radio silence.
And, there they sat.
For over three years. On my computer. Collecting digital dust.
When I came across the folder in 2021, I intended to delete it to free up space on my computer.
Instead, I opened up an Instagram account and started releasing them.
Without permission.
If you scroll far enough back on my Instagram account (like nearly 4 years back), you’ll see those earliest skulls. I had no idea what I was going to do with all of them, but I settled on one small goal.
To create 100 of them.
I accomplished that *checks account* sometime in the fall of 2022.
But by that time, I’d already turned my attention to creating full skeletons instead.
Here we are.
Had I been laser-focused, I could have pulled this whole thing together in far less time.
But the point here (for me and you) is not to beat myself (or yourself) up over how long these pursuits take.
It’s to celebrate the fact that some fun was had along the way…and that the thing was actually completed.
Something about the journey being more important than the destination…
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I call this wee project The Blacklist - a collection of 128 Breeds created over the last three years, laid out alphabetically for your anatomical pleasure.
Want to know if your favorite breed made The Blacklist?
1. Closet Skeletons (Literally):
Most of my skeletons start and end in the closet—file folders full of unfinished breeds waiting for a spark.
A dog skull might sit in a file folder for months (or longer) before I get around to attaching it to an entire skeleton to it.
2. The Digital Vulture Method:
Yes, ChatGPT once called me a digital vulture. And yes, I took it as a compliment. Nothing goes to waste. Skulls, limbs, tufts of fur—they all get recycled across breeds. Once you’ve drawn a few dozen femurs, you realize you don’t need to reinvent bones every single time. Long and short-haired versions of the same breed are a given, but it goes further than that.
The Greyhound’s skeleton was upcycled into the Borzoi, Ibizan Hound, and Whippet. The Vizsla, German Shorthaired Pointer, and English Pointer were all built off a Weimaraner frame.
Yes, adjustments need to be made. But, there are more similarities than differences.
If anything, this project has been a massive experiment. Yes, items are reused. But there was the enormous learning curve needed to get there.
3. Sizing & Scaling Shenanigans:
Despite my best efforts, this print is not to scale. Why? Because when the giant breeds started head-butting the row above and the tiniest breeds vanished into the void, I switched gears. Every dog deserves a moment in the spotlight—so yes, sizes were adjusted for clarity (and for sanity).
4. Similar to #3:
If you know anything about my art, it's that all the bones are usually labeled. In this case, individual dogs (particularly the smaller breeds) are small enough that those tiny labels become a visual distraction. So, no bone labels in this piece.
5. That's not a watermark
See that oversized Bark & Bone mark in the middle of the print? That’s not a watermark — it’s part of the art. It was designed to break up the blank background and give the layout a bit of visual interest.
And hey — if it happens to discourage art theft along the way? That’s just a bonus. 💀
The Blacklist is available in black or white as a quality print on fine art matte paper—starting at 20x30, because anything smaller would just be rude to your eyeballs.
The Deadlist is available as a black print, starting at 16x24.
And for the die-hard collectors (you know who you are), both prints are also offered as acrylic panels.
For the DIYer, digital files are also available.
If you're a bone collector, a vet, a dog nerd, or just like reading long lists alphabetically, this one's for you!