Victor Peterson-Novarino talks art, death and raccoon remains.

Photos and story by: Halley Buxton

A wall covered with Peterson-Novarino’s and his roommate’s artwork in their apartment. Featuring a skull decorated by Peterson-Novarino. // All photos by Halley Buxton in Bellingham, Wash. on May 16, 2024. 

Victor Peterson-Novarino has been an artist his entire life, but at 14-years-old he began to intertwine his creative process with his fascination in repurposing bones. Approaching the unassuming second story apartment in Bellingham, I knew I was in the right place from the bones on the balcony.

A plaque featuring a crab claw, dried flowers and one of Peterson-Novarino’s first additions to his bone collection. 

“I was on a trip with my family and I saw this deer hoof and I was like, ‘I want that.’ So I took it home and my dad was really mad at me,” Peterson-Novarino said. “I smuggled it in my cargo pants pocket.”

His currently cluttered desk is used for a variety of projects such as painting, assembling jewelry and creating plaques with his collection. 

“I think it's always important to do your research on just about anything, but especially a hobby so delicate and hard to find materials for,” Peterson-Novarino said as advice to people interested in bone collecting. “Also just to do it regardless of people being weirded out by it. There's always gonna be someone weirded out because it's dead stuff, like it's kind of fucking weird.”

Peterson-Novarino next to their prized cow skull, gifted by his mother as a high school graduation gift. 

“I like vertebrae because they're such an interesting shape. Especially thoracic … that classically pointed one. They're such a cool shape and they're really easy to put on things too because they've got all the holes,” Peterson-Novarino said. “Skulls, of course, are just fantastic and beautiful, but I don't want to do anything to them because I don't want to ruin them.”

A necklace charm made from fish vertebrae dangles from the wall. There are repurposed bones, feathers and specimens in every corner of his room.

His windowsill displays the variety of his collection. Peterson-Novarino explained the discomfort that is common around dead specimens and bone collection: “I don't think it's disrespectful at all. Maybe this is a little morbid, but once we die we're just part of the world again. And I don't think the raccoon is going to be particularly offended that I made a necklace with him, you know? I don't think he'll mind… I know it can be smelly and nasty but so is life. I don't understand why that grosses people out so much.”

A closer look at some of the collection on his windowsill, including a “wet specimen” gecko preserved in liquid and a scorpion in resin.

“My dad passed away a few years ago and that was a big part of my coping … was art. I had already been interested in [bones] as this second part of life, but I guess that gave it this whole new perspective. We don't go anywhere after we go,” Peterson-Novarino said. “I want to move it instead. I don't want it to sit there … I want to do something with it. It's so much cooler than the stuff around it because it was kinetic, because it has all these memories and stuff. It's kind of hippy dippy, but I think it's neat.”

Peterson-Novarino examining a pickle jar currently filled with the soaking remains of a raccoon he found. His collection process often includes gathering roadkill.

“It can vary really widely based on the conditions they've been in … it can take a few months for them to be fully processed because bones absorb grease,” Peterson-Novarino explained. “It's got all this oil and fat trapped inside of the pores, so it's gotta just sit in water for really long periods of time and then it still smells for a while, so it's gotta sit longer and there's this big process of straining and cleaning and scrubbing and I think that part’s really fun to me. People get a little grossed out when they see that part for sure. I think the final product is just so worth it.”

The last specimen of the tour was a mummified rat pulled from a box underneath their art desk. 

“Even ones that people have gotten for me or purchased for me, I feel connected to them because it's like, I don't know what you were up to, but you were alive,” Peterson-Novarino said.

When visiting a bone collector’s apartment, you never know what they’ll pull out next.