You've never met an artist like the appropriately monikered Kiska Zilla. That's because Ms. Kiska is like some crazy figment of the still somewhat immature (male) imagination. A haunting phantasm returned from some ancient, afternoon daydream. You know, the kind of chick that even the above-average-type guy couldn't begin to imagine actually exists. So he sends his mind off pacing into the sometimes-visited confines of the Make-A-Dreamgirl® workshop to make her up himself.
And while standing before the dry erase board at M-A-D, said above average guy's mind marks out an outline that gradually becomes fleshed out into a slim, hoodie wearin' honey with tattoo-inked arms. A very odd sort of woman who treasures comic books and who adores Japanese daikaiju flicks. One who intricately doodles rifle-carrying Care Bears and crazed scientists in her "sketchbook of doom." And who can bomb the crap outta' warehouse walls with gorgeous graffiti. A creature as seemingly fictitious to our existence as a #@$%ing unicorn; an artist like the distressingly real Kiska Zilla, a talent too monstrously cool to be true.
