About

Abhishek Mukherjee is bearded, greying, and wears Birkenstocks. He lives with his wife, four cats and a dog in a 1940’s bungalow. His watch is a twelve dollar Casio with a seven dollar nylon band. He is an Industrial Engineer and spends most of his time designing warehouses. He wishes they made an operating system that booted straight into Microsoft Excel. Abhishek is a habitual dabbler. He tried out documentary and street photography, then medium format film photography, then took a short five year break and is back at it with a camera.

Abhishek picked up woodworking a while ago. He’d rather learn to saw a plank straight and by hand, use a chisel, and set a hand-plane correctly than make furniture on a machine. This explains why his workbench is still unfinished — it requires eight mortise and tenon joints! In his formative years, he went after bicycle advocacy, urban planning, percussion drumming, and film making but those happened too long ago to keep mentioning. Abhishek can be a food snob. Taste is king; caramelization is underrated. It can never be too spicy. Favorite food: Ramen, without question. Thai noodle soups are a close second. He’d readily eat fresh tacos from a questionable taco truck but you would have to bribe him to eat at Chilis. Even though he would rather give his business to local restaurants, he despises when their instagram hype does not match the taste of their food which happens more often than you’d think. Abhishek is a lightweight: a pint of dunkelweizen is all he can stomach before feeling tipsy.

Abhishek wishes he wrote as well as the people whose words he reads. He adores traveling through the worlds that Le Guin, Vonnegut and McEwan built. Lately he is binging Stephen King. The writings of Bill Belleville, William Zinsser and Robert Pirsig make him feel he can do it too. Most of his writing is confined to journals and to penpals. Abhishek seeks mentorship where he can find it. Youtube videos don’t come remotely close to learning first hand. Alas, mastery has been in decline and mentors are rare. Books are what’s left. 

The name "Sighthound Studio" pays homage to my wonderful Laya. She was my baby and I miss her every day.