This is the Bunny Clock. No matter where the hands touch: bunny. It is the creation of Laynie Browne. Laynie has been making collages—her house is filled with dozens, at least—”dozens” is simply wrong, and against the hands of the Clock—she has been orchestrating a world: paint and collage on metal, on canvas, on stones, on pieces of driftwood she’s gathered along the trails on the edges of Tucson. Here is another:
A few paint and collage on metal pieces are hung in the long hallway of Laynie’s house, a few feet from where a series of paintings of living rabbits are hung, painted by Laynie’s sons, Benjamin and Jacob. There are paintings and collages everywhere. Numerous works by Noah Saterstrom and Keith Waldrop, for example; a book Lee Ann Brown and Norma Cole made for Laynie when she was pregnant—and especially an extraordinary number of paintings and drawings and collages by Laynie’s family. The house is filled with art, beyond the evidence of creation: creation, expanding. The sound of a trumpet upon entering, perfect. Here are two:
The latter is a painting of Bunkins. Right now, Bunkins is in her pen in the room at the end of the hall. She’s inside at the moment to protect her from bobcats and hawks. She is eating timothy grass. Rabbits have to eat all the time, Laynie says. If their gut isn’t working, they perish. Bunkins shares the room with a game Laynie’s husband Brad devised to teach their sons Hebrew. Brad is a molecular biologist. He studies the ascidian heart—the heart of the sea squirt. The game is hung on the wall facing Bunkins:
Laynie and Brad met at a disco in Cancun, Mexico. They were both on vacation with their families. Laynie says they’re pretty sure they actually first met while toddlers in the San Fernando Valley of southern California. When I entered Laynie’s house a short while ago, her son Jacob was practicing the trumpet. He was sitting in front of a large picture window facing the mountains, playing. Laynie’s house is a mile or so from the foot of the Catalina Mountains. Laynie and Brad have traveled Israel together. They took this picture of themselves in a bus station in 1993:
Among Laynie’s numerous books is THE SCENTED FOX, published by Wave Books in 2007. I know Laynie partly because of this book; I worked for Wave Books and met Laynie partly through the emails with which I would regularly accost the authors. Laynie has lived mostly in cities. And then we went out to the desert, she says. The whole family is now in the kitchen making sushi. There is the sound of small birds in the yard, the resonance of Jacob’s trumpet expanding against the large picture window, interacting with every brushstroke and line, dragon and fox, Bunkins eating timothy grass at the end of the hall.