An ant walking over a sleeping person’s chest may have all manner of explanation for the rising and falling of the fleshy ground. Philosophies and religions can grow from rampant speculation as to the “real” significance of the movement under foots (all antie six of them). When pushed to speak about my art I usually refer to it as a form of breathing. The manifestation of that breath in this world looks like art.

Whether I am drawing a building, crafting a hallway, or sculpting an extended torus I’m involved in portraiture — non-human, but portraits none-the-less.

A common thread that weaves through my art is an appreciation of visual stimulation of non-visual perceptions.

I don’t have any faith or reliance on the aesthetics of humans. If my motivation for the creation of art was to service the art appreciation of the local bipeds, I don’t think I could fight the weight of apathy. My artistic efforts typically stem from a mood of compassion and adoration of the piece that lies veiled in the undeveloped form. Liberating these inherent forms is enough onto itself.

If someone steps forward to caretake and maintain these works once they are complete so much the better. One less “child” for me to keep track of.

On many an occasion startling horror lingers on the edge of the confrontable. I think this is often the case when one breaks into higher aesthetics. My way of dealing with this typically relies on a balancing dash of humor and two reminders from long time friends “This too shall pass” and “You can’t change what is, but you can learn to like it.”

I love working in multi-dimensions.

My preference at the moment is sculpting in alabaster. The stone works well with hand tools. The involvement with the medium is immediate and protracted enough to form a relationship to the piece.

When it comes to flat art, pastels, painting, and printmaking are my preferences.

Pastels have a definite sculptural quality allowing one to work the flat surface into a multi-dimensional perspective.

Painting for me is like running down a grassy hillside jumping and turning in rhythm with unexpected delightful accidents.

Printmaking is a relaxing blend of industry and art.

My wood sculpture is influenced by Henry Moore, my bronzes are compared to early Bragg, but my alabaster is more reminiscent of Noguchi and Arp.

Somewhat anomalous to all of this is my lifetime touch and go fascination with assemblage and found-object sculpture. Some of these are truly weird. Stool with Rubberbands and Hand could probably be used as evidence at a sanity hearing were it not labeled as art. Rusty Box and Wire I, II and III capture something terribly elegant and subtle. To me they are not unlike Tibetan Prayer Wheels. These are to be played as musical devices in addition to any visual merit.

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