20acrecarcass | The Art of Jake Keeler


September 2012

Unearthed – one

Over the years of making art, and they are becoming many, I’ve lost track of a shit ton of work.  Some of it was purchased and now lives in someone’s dwelling, some found their way into offices, others on album covers and t-shirts.  I started going through old CD’s, hoping to dig up old files like a record hunter looking for choice cuts in rural Goodwills.  Gold amongst the ruins.  I found some, and will continue to dig.  Here’s the first offering.

Power | ? | Pen and ink on wood | 24″ x 36″ | property of Lucas Gluesenkamp via an art-trade. Lucas’s painting hangs in our master bedroom. Lucas makes rad art. Google him.



Rebirth takes many forms.  Some are big and messy, some make you pause, and others go entirely unnoticed.  One such event happened a while back thanks to some bitchin’ sludge metal.

Continue reading “Brainoil”


For the last week or so, I’ve been pursuing some Future Time.

Family, close ones, fishing, and art at the forefront.  Some nice beers have been had along the way.

Leaving the parts of the past that belong in the past, and building on the parts that count towards one’s future = stoke.

I thought I’d share a bit of my stoke.

Continue reading “Stoked”

Saga Buggers

Tying buggers for tomorrow’s Big Muddy mission.

Drinking Summit Saga.

Listening to “And Blood Was Passion” by Zebulon Pike.

Chartreuse, black and red seem to be the right combination.

Black hooks for bronze-backs.

Continue reading “Saga Buggers”

Gnarly Buggers and Czech-Style Dark Lager

Variation on Gnarly Bugger pattern.  Execution: nymphing pocket water on the Big Muddy for smallies.

Continue reading “Gnarly Buggers and Czech-Style Dark Lager”

Hey Slint, Do Me a Favor.

Kaw Kaw.

Fall in the air.

The swing is the thing, the tug is the drug.

Stupid Material Things

Well, last week I decided to chase a tiger muskie I had spied in a froggy over-flow swamp off of a lake here in the Twin Cities.   I made a rook-dawg move and waded into some seriously floating bog/Dagobah/quicksand type shit.  I ain’t gonna lie, I found myself sinking, with no solid ground to be felt by stick, rod, or foot.  I had to get horizontal, leverage my entire upper body just to make one last leg jerk to get out.  In the process, I filled my waders.  No worries, just pants, underwear, car keys and my wallet.  “It’ll dry out.  No big deal”, I thought to myself.  What I didn’t know until moments later, as I felt my cell phone buzzing at a constant death rattle, is that sure enough the waterproof pouch on the front of my waders was just shy of being zipped shut.  Cellphone dead.  2 days on rice; nada.  I love buying new things…like phones.

Alright, dust off the bad mojo.  Get back at it.  Beginning of September, let’s look for some bronze and brown in wisco.

Drive 30 minutes,  make a backcast and plant your streamer in a tree, thrust forward, snap your 5 weight at the joint between the 2nd and 3rd sections.  Drink a beer to null the rage.  Drive 30 minutes back home to write an entry into your blog.

The beer that numbed a man’s rage.

Stupid fucking material things.

St.Croix better hook a brother up.

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