Rascally artist's "Weasels!" invade Punch Gallery

Weasels!

The furry, wily creatures — especially variants like the Ravanamangus, or "Flying Death Weasel" — are probably not what you expect to see in your average Pioneer Square gallery. But some unusual representations of the mustelid family greet visitors this month in local artist Eugene Parnell's "Weasels! Cryptozoological Reconstructions," at Punch.

Cryptozoology, the study of animals believed to be extinct or whose existence lacks empirical evidence, is "based in a certain sense of psychological longing that people have for elusive and mysterious parts of nature to be out there," says Parnell.

Since our notion of the wilderness as a scary and foreign place has changed into one of "a fragile garden that's rapidly falling apart," says Parnell, the desire for the "wild" is stronger than ever.

"It really changes people's psychological relationship with nature. We want that wilderness to still be there, and we can't accept the fact that it's almost gone."

Parnell's latest show is a dynamic continuation of his decadelong interest in the relationships between how people think of the world, how the world shows itself and how people fit into it. In "Weasels!" he explores that cognitive dissonance even further, emphasizing the links between animal imagery and early childhood experience.

Those who grew up with tales of Bigfoot and the Chupacabra (goat-blood suckers) have recently been delighted with new and sometimes bogus sightings, but for this (admittedly "wacky") show, Parnell is more interested in the obscure natures of this "partially documented and slightly conjectural" species of the weasel family.

Its most striking piece is a quasi-re-creation of Parnell's grandmother's sitting room. A dinner tray is positioned in front of a recliner and an antique birdcage, whose occupant has become the victim of a certain pack of Slangekatt, or "Scarce House Weasel." Carefully crafted using thrift-store furs, they're elegant, rabid, ferocious and hilarious all at once.

"I knew I wanted something to violate that cage," says Parnell, who owned a pet ferret in college. "All of my pieces are kind of autobiographical to a degree. Not explicitly, but they relate to things that evoke lots of strong memories for me."

Other mustelids on display include the "Giant Mormon River Otter," represented in its once-reported size through vintage taxidermy, and an installation based on a "Namibian Breakfast Civet," an elusive creature reportedly vulnerable to cereal as bait. (The civet doesn't actually appear here — its presence is just suggested.) And then there's that "Flying Death Weasel," poised airborne in midscream, which was partially inspired by animals Parnell observed in Sri Lanka.

His travels to New Guinea, Australia, Namibia and other exotic locales have informed his artwork. An interactive display shares folklore, historical accounts, personal travelogues and rare images. Not only for fans of anthropological trivia, they add essential background to Parnell's pieces and are well worth clicking through.

Still, getting to see so much unusual fauna up close didn't satiate Parnell's desire for the wilderness, real or imagined. On safari in Africa, he found that the views were less astounding than they were congruent with what he'd seen in documentaries. "It validates or invalidates all the safari tape running in your head. And oftentimes it doesn't really measure up. You spend a lot of time driving around empty bush or sitting around the water hole, waiting."

Speaking of that, where's the missing "Breakfast Civet"?

"Any minute now," says Parnell, with a glint in his eye.