David R. Harper's horse currently on display at the Stride Gallery should consider himself lucky to join the ranks of other famous taxidermied horses such as Napoleon's horse "Vizir" or the great "Trigger" ridden by Roy Rogers. Like all great horses that have a story, Harper's horse is a fragment of the personal mythology he developed as a child living up north. Historically, horses were rarely preserved using taxidermy unless they were of the highest status. This rare practice of permanently commemorating a horse in a state of former glory is one of the ideas that Harper stated he enjoyed playing with during his artist talk at the U of C. Evidence of Harper's motley resume of jobs such as woodworker, upholster, boat builder, swamp digger, and a stint at his local tattoo shop can be seen in his work. His ability to pull from an array of skills has resulted in the DIY horse.

I was stopped in my tracks at the doorway of Stride by the majestic and melancholy horse that was bolted to the floor in front of me. Closer inspection revealed that the horse is not real, but instead is a patch-work of three and a half cow hides skilfully formed over a Styrofoam frame. This technique is a 19th century toy-making technique from Europe that Harper discovered during his extensive research. The horse's head stands slightly taller than mine. I looked up into his eyes unsure as to my stance on the practice of taxidermy, but as he gazed down on me I got the feeling that he had come to terms with his eternal position in the world. I was then struck by the fact that I was thinking about the horse as a "he" and giving him emotions. This must have something to do with the scale of the work within the space and some lingering childhood notions of stuffed animals.

Referencing the tradition of branding, Harper has embroidered a Victorian-inspired patch into the horse's flank. The embroidery is so finely crafted and has such small stitches, that at first, it looks to be carefully hand painted. The image is of a naked woman with flowing locks amidst a floral frame. The knees of the woman are simply whirls of thread that have the ability to suggest a knee without needing to be a different shade. The tactile nature of the thread gives the woman a sense of flowing movement. Harper had said during his artist talk that people usually think that his embroideries are painting, and I can see why they would think that. Using thread instead of paint gives the brand a soft sheen one could not achieve with paint. His use of a seemingly less invasive branding medium like thread is mischievous, and the skill at which is carried out is surprising.

Harper's lone sculpture holds the space. But Stride's small and otherwise empty gallery makes the horse feel innocent or almost fragile. Its innocence causes me to feel guilty for my gaze and prompts questions about why some people feel the need to do the seemingly ludicrous act of stuffing an animal to mount on their living room wall. Harper saw his first piece of taxidermy when he was seven, and he says although he didn't understand it, he knew that he was attracted to its "romantic sadness." Harper likes to think of his creatures as "beasts that I create but I didn't create them." He spoke in his artist talk about how he uses natural materials and creatures to create sculptures that address the duality and contradictions of manmade constructs of nature.

I laughed when Harper told the packed room at U of C that he spends between 13-17 hours a day embroidering while watching UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) on television. It is this crossing of sexual stereotypes that initially caught my eye and got me to make the trek to Stride, but it was his attention to detail and amazing craftsmanship that held my gaze.

The Last to Win runs at Stride Gallery until May 9, 2009.