The Bone Horse lives

A new year is a good place to start. It’s just a day’s difference, really. Which is sometimes just enough to change everything. A rebirth or a psychological shift. A milestone.

After years of mental fermentation. musing and yearning: The Bone Horse lives.

This thing, this idea, this mythological style creature was born for the love of speed and freedom and art; the momentum of motorcycles and horses; the power of fashion; the enduring style and strength of leather and bone; the color and texture of an antler hewn and worn through years of warring and feeding; folds of fabric and the human form; the sharp intake of breath in the cold; the moment of awakening.

A horse made of bones. The elegance and sleekness of such a creature, stripped down to its barest structure. Our architecture exposed. Our speed and agility preserved. The soul in physical form.

Oh, that we should all be so true and powerful.

Oh, but we can, my dear. Surely we can.