Sculptures

The transition from painting to sculpture has been a natural expansion of my curiosity about what it means for me to make art. Throughout the different phases of development in my life as an artist, regardless of the medium, I see a consistent flow in the fundamental, essential direction of my exploration. Art for me is not about self-expression. Instead, it is about separating from self into a simple state of being which might allow me access to some kind of universal truth.

The works I make are materials folded around ideas which offer themselves to me asking for a voice, and my imagination becomes the language through which I come to an understanding without words. I collect objects and materials and analyze the relationships that might be possible between them, and what effect these might have on me and on others. I follow where they lead me, hoping to be receptive enough to catch the ideas that present themselves to me. I use materials in the same way a writer might use words to create poetry.

I remember well that I possessed in childhood a definite awareness of my own place within the mystery and power of nature. My urge to make art can be described as a need to connect to the child I was when I first experienced the difference between truly being and simply existing. I now feel most vital when I find it natural, as I did then, to find fewer boundaries among the spaces between past present and future, between all things animal vegetable and mineral, animate and inanimate, and between intuition and intellect. The materials I put together become vehicles that take me most directly to that child.

In making sculptures it is necessary to be aware that every material has a nature particular and specific to itself, and that one must be sensitive to the diverse properties of texture, colour, density, weight and other elements. My challenge is to combine these qualities so they may project or dispel energetic forces which might be experienced physically as well as psychologically, and with luck psychically.

When an object becomes something other than itself, the shock of the unexpected transformation can connect us to the concept of eternity. When this mysterious phenomenon occurs, I feel the work has the power to divert us from our habitual response to our environment.

Because it is the task of the artist to make this experience accessible to others, it is necessary to work with integrity, to aspire to the highest ideals, be inquisitive and alert, and to pay attention to matters philosophical, psychological, and spiritual.

For me, the energy which connects everything is like a strong current moving below the calm or turbulent surface of water. It is the force over which we have no control. I call this instinct, and I ignore it at my peril.

I’m not always sure why I am making a piece or what it might be about. Sometimes I find out while I’m working, other times much later when I notice certain connections with previous works. Sometimes, never! But people who comment on what they experience when they look at it often reveal to me a new aspect of my own search. Such moments connect me to other human beings and bring me out of isolation.

I am inspired by nature, all of the arts, and by the human condition. I look for ways to explore the common ground between them, beginning for me with visceral essentials: rhythm, balance, and the instinct to live. I have learned to value impulse, to appreciate chance, and to trust intuition ahead of intellect.

My emotional guides have always been wonder, delight, and gratitude.