A conversation with Bunny Lane

Gosh, it's been like 14 years.

Wow, was that in New Orleans?

Yeah, I was in beauty school at the time and I watched this video on a bad date. I was like, would you want to watch a movie? And he had this video on how to skin and mount a squirrel. I know, I know. We didn't date very long, but the taxidermy stuck and I started like looking for roadkill squirrels. 

Angee and I, we used to work together years ago, and we recognized each other in an art market and she bought everything I had. And then I got with another gallery, and I've done some shows, and I've been in three different museums in the south and it just keeps going and growing. I love it. It's all ethical and it's all unique. I do everything custom. I do a lot of sculpting, make all the clothes, and I make all the props, by hand. So it's just kind of evolved. It's this whole new taxidermy art form that I love sharing with people. New Orleans really gets it. New Orleans loves me.

Yeah, I used to get up early and hunt around. Just drive around because everything's fresh in the morning, you know? And now that I live in a more rural area, I have a lot more sources. I'd drive through city Park, like during mating season, and then right before a hibernation, when they were all like gathering their nuts, they just go crazy and they don't look both ways and people just plow over them. Yeah, squirrels from the beginning, and then I started with Bunnies, and then, you know, Bunny Lane became a thing. I love jackalopes and New Orleans loves jackalopes. I mean, I think I've sold like 5,000 jackalopes.

It is, it is.

Oh, you still have her? Yeah, I'll never make another one of that.

Never. I've done lots of two headed animals, but I've never done one that is that particular color that's upright. Yeah, that one's for Angee. It is a never make another one, unless she wants me to. [We find the pink upright double-headed jackalope] Oh look, oh, you still look cute. Oh, you are like eight years old and you're still hot.

I always loved mythical creatures and I always thought that, you know, the animals that die on the road deserved a better life. And what better way to do that than to make them into something mythical, something ethereal, something out of this world. Like why not elevate them? Gives them their own story.

It's not just a regular rabbit, it's pink, and it's oh my gosh, it's a double headed unicorn. You a double unicorn pink rabbit. And this city is kind of a double headed unicorn. It's true. So the progression to larger animals was like natural, like let's see what I can get away with next kind of thing.

Well, the more I'm known in the industry, people approach me when they find things. They'll be like, there's a deer hit on the highway. And yeah, you're taking it home and you're skinning it out and putting it in your freezer and taking measurements.

I've been wanting to make large large things that I wanted from my childhood. Like, I remember riding those grocery store carousels. My mom would smoke a cigarette, and she would let me and my sister take two spins around while she smoked her cig, before we go in the grocery store. And it was great, but I always thought, man, these animals are not realistic at all. Like, this is like baby stuff. I wanted to ride a real animal! So I made that happen with my carousel. 

So her name is Epona, and my friend Evan Mitchell did the music. It's a carousel version of the hit song from the ‘90s, My Pony, by Ginuwine. That song just popped into my head. It’s like My Pony, but we changed it, like 25 percent, so it's not like a copyright infringement. Like, Ginuwine, please don't sue me. And then you need also like a creepy carousel version of just like carousel music. So it has two different tracks, and it plays for 2 minutes while you spin around. It's fantastic.

Yeah. And when when the music's over, she says, “Please play again.” It's kind of creepy.

Yeah, people call me all the time: “Bunny, there's a raccoon down by Dollar General.” And I'll say, well, I'm right in the middle of something right now. I go, can you scoop it up for me? I have my freezers and I have them all numbered. So if someone calls me, I'll say, “I want you to put it in freezer number 3, and just write your name on it, and when I see you, I'll give you $10.”

Yeah. I have I have a whole crew of minions where I live that bring me things.

Right now? I need a helper. They have like a half dozen big things, and then, like, random field mice and frogs and stuff.

I have just some like meat locker style freezers, like an upright with an alarm. And then I have two deep freezers, one is 6 feetlong, and one is like a cube. But an eating freezer and the art freezers, yeah. Sometimes it depends on what season it is, and how busy I've been. Like the carousel was a huge project because mounting the deer was like a three day process. However, building the actual carousel took four weeks.

I did a dog. It was a couple from Alabama. They'd been to my house before and had commissioned work from me. When their pet passed away, they asked if I could mount him. He was so unfortunate looking when he died.

Yeah, I tried. But in the process, he lost even more of his hair. It was all tangled, and I made the mistake of trying to untangle it. We did our best. He was finished, but then he sat in my living room for four weeks because they didn't have time to drive the eight hours to come get him. Every time someone walked into the room — my assistant at the time, friends, even me — it would happen. You'd walk in, and there he was, sitting in a little dog bed in the corner. Your brain would just kind of glitch, like, "Oh god, there's a dog… wait… oh, right. That's the mounted dog. Oh no. Oh god." 

I was so happy when they came and picked him up. They cried. I don't know if it was because they were happy to get him back, or sad because he was gone, or just overwhelmed that they'd had me mount the ugliest little thing you've ever seen in your life. I mean, this dog had like 20 hairs on his body. But that's what they wanted, so I made it. And they paid me.

I am! I'm actually doing a commission for her right now. We're making a baby mobile that lights up, plays music, has flying squirrels around it, and spins.

It's not like one of those plastic clamp-on things. It's a tree branch coming out of the wall. It's going to age with the kid as he grows. I fabricated this metal rebar branch that I'm covering in epoxy resin to make it look like a water oak, because the mom has a birthmark shaped like a water oak and that tree is special to her.

It's got four flying squirrels. I'm really excited about it. I feel really lucky. I've had a great group of clients stick with me over the years. They're always supportive, and they challenge me. They'll say, "Hey, can you do this?" and I'll be like, "Maybe. But probably yes."

Yes. I did a large exhibit for the Alabama Contemporary Art Center in Mobile. It was about 35 animals, but they were all small ones, like rabbits and squirrels. The carousel is definitely the largest single piece I've made.

I can mount two squirrels a day. I'll take them out of the freezer, skin them, prepare them, mount them, and then once they dry, I usually just have about 20 minutes of finishing work left, which I'll do a week or two later.

That dog took about six days of actual work, but it was stretched out over several weeks. I had to make a custom carcass cast, which was fun, really fun, I love that part. But the process takes time. You have to wait for the cast to cure, and it's a lot.

No, I'm taking a break from pets. I have another taxidermist here in town that I refer people to. It doesn't seem to bother her emotionally the way it does me. With wild animals, you can create a narrative. If something goes wrong, like a paw falls off, you can just pivot. That animal gets a hook, or a glove, or a bracelet. Maybe they're a pirate now.

But with a pet? You've got 100 photos to compare, and you're looking at them like, "Why don't you look like you did when you were six months old?" It's too much. I'm too much of an empath. I can't do it.

Yeah. My cat is still in my freezer. She died May 4, and it's been two years. I tried to do a rabbit of mine, Wookie, after keeping him in the freezer for three years. I finally felt ready. I said, "I'm gonna do it today." But he was so freezer-burnt. His ear broke off in my hand. I waited too long.

Only three days to mount, but it was a beast. I had my former assistant help me with it. We had a lot of difficulty getting the deer to fit properly, but being creative, we made it work. We're not doing classic taxidermy. I don't want my work to look traditional. I want it to be ethereal, otherworldly.

It was a tough mount, and a lot of work for just two people. I think we did it in late September or early October, 2024.

She did. She came out for a whole day. Gave me one full day of help, running around with the turkey. They fell in love with the turkey! It was fabulous to have that extra hand.

We do! We offer classes, and they're still ongoing. I've made some changes in the business this year. We've upped production, and I finally have an LLC.

Thank you. I mean, I've been paying taxes under my Social Security number for years, but it's nice to have the certificate, to be legally protected, especially since I work from home. There are insurance and zoning issues I've been dealing with forever, and becoming an actual business felt like the right move. Not just an independent contractor anymore.

Squirrels, definitely. That's what I did. I started with squirrels and then called around to a few taxidermists. David Ellzey in Amite, Louisiana, agreed to meet with me. I didn't even know he was "the squirrel master." I just found him on Google using my BlackBerry. His wife answered and talked to me for over an hour. She still does every time I call!

Pretty much. She said, "Go on back, David's back there." And he asked, "You know how to skin a squirrel?" I told him I'd done it a few times. He said, "Well, sit down."

Basically. His assistant was sculpting a mannequin, which is what we put the hide onto. We only use the hide, not the bones, muscle, or organs. And he was struggling with the sculpting. He just said, "Sit down." I became part of the shop. I went two Saturdays a month for about a year. He really brought me along.

When you skin something, it's kind of like taking off a sock. You make a small incision where your sock line would be and peel it off. You're just separating the fascia — that's the layer between the dermis and the muscle. Once I have the hide, I make the form.

I've made molds from both clay and carcasses, and I pour polystyrene foam into them. I do all my own casting. All of my forms are mine. If I use commercial ones, I cut them up and re-sculpt them. They don't make a form for a squirrel doing a ballet move in arabesque. So I sculpt it.

It is. That's what sets my work apart. I'm not just popping a horn on something or giving it googly eyes. I'm sculpting from the beginning, from the inside out. I trained my apprentice that way too.

Sometimes the head just needs a little help, like a hat. Or bigger eyes, if the originals are damaged. If the fur's patchy, I'll use some eyeshadow, or even fake eyelashes. But the head is sculpted, too.

My neighbor raises rabbits for meat. He sells them locally and also to me. I buy the hides, but I don't let him skin the feet, the tail or the face, it's too delicate. He's fast, production-style, and he's mostly focused on the meat. But I trained him on how I want things skinned, and now he does it my way. Saves me a lot of time.

No, that one was an old, very primitive form. I make mine out of fiberglass. It's a bit like lost-wax bronze casting, but with animals. I take the carcass and cover it in fiberglass, then cut the mold in half so I have two parts that fit together. Then I prep the inside with wax. Once the carcass is gone, I pour foam into the mold, clamp it together, and 30 minutes later, I've got a super lightweight form. Then I stretch the hide over it, sew it up, pose it, articulate the ears and eyes, and give it personality. That's where the magic comes in.

Yup. It's so primitive, I don't even know what animal it was meant to be. Maybe an otter? It's heavy because it's filled with concrete. Back then, they'd mix concrete with wood shavings to give it strength. Now we use Bondo or clay for that kind of thing.

Three years. It was a great deal. It had these tiny little horses on it, just the kind you'd see at a city fair, nothing special. I didn't need the horses, just the top, bottom, and motor. The guy who sold it to me was helpful. He rebuilds vintage coin-operated rides, so he showed me how everything worked. But the learning curve? Oh my God, it almost broke me.

The only electronics I could find to power it were ancient. The music box was this tiny device from 1970s Korea. No instructions, just three buttons and a lot of trial and error. I had to walk away so many times. Pour a glass of wine, come back in 30 minutes, try again.

Eventually, yeah. The dogs were not fans of the antique mounts, though. One of them looked so spooked, it was hilarious. But yeah, I'm just thrilled she's out in the world now.

Yes, Epona. She's a goddess from the ancient world, protector of travelers, children, and horses. It felt fitting. I want people to ride her and be transported back to childhood. To that level of wonder and creativity we kind of lose as adults.

Exactly. I want it to stay in New Orleans, preferably in a big French Quarter house where people entertain and it gets ridden and photographed. I want it to be seen. Imagine it slowly spinning in a window with the shutters open and people passing by on the street! It's so New Orleans.

I've already found three more carousels in Florida. I want to buy them, but I have to sell this one first. I found them at a great price, and I have a truck and an open trailer. Totally doable. They're just south of Orlando. 

If it weren't for this city, I wouldn't have the business I do. I always joke that I moved one street over. Started working on Bourbon Street, and now I sell on Royal and Magazine. When I first moved here, I was just this crafty girl in school. I dropped out of art school because I couldn't afford it. There was a lot going on. I wasn't great at any one thing, but I kept nurturing my creativity. And eventually, all the things I was mediocre at came together. I can't make a perfect ballgown, but I can make a really nice ballgown for a squirrel.

I can't build your kitchen cabinets, but I can make you a jack-in-the-box with a functioning spring. I can make a peepshow frog. I do automaton animals with 12-volt motors, with lights. It's sculpting, sewing, taxidermy, set building, theater. I give them what they deserve. These animals were left to die in the street. I hope someone does the same for me when I die. Put me in my race car, in my fire suit, with my helmet. Maybe just a mannequin of me, but still.