a taxidermist after my own heart. 

takeshi yamada.

Born out of the mythos of Coney Island, Yamada’s present-day cosmos includes several six-foot-long Mongolian death worms; a pair of Fiji mermaids; a two-headed baby; a hairy trout; a seven-fingered hand; fossilized fairies; jackalope stew; a five-foot-long bloodsucking chupacabra; a 16th-century homunculus; a legion of samurai warriors trapped in the bodies of horseshoe crabs; a tiny marsh dragon; a coven of freakishly large, nuclear-radiated stag beetles from Bikini Atoll; and a furry mer-bunny, all of which are brought to life using old bones, shells, resin, origami, and bits and pieces of refuse, both inorganic and fleshy.

“In the East, abnormalities are not seen as shocking,” explains Yamada as he slogs through a deep, soggy thicket behind a baseball field. “The freakish is not a bad thing. It can represent the mystery of the universe. An expression of divinity. A blessing.” (more here).