I’ve never really questioned why I make things, be it art or otherwise. I just love doing it. I pretty much have to make, whether it’s artwork, an invention, an artistic building, or some other part of my environment. It’s not so much a conscious choice, but a necessary outlet for my creative energy and it’s a rare challenge that doesn’t get the ideas churning.
From an early age, I’ve been inspired by beautiful and innovative things. They said I was good with scissors in kindergarten. For me, beauty, whether in nature or from the hand of man, is crucial to our existence. We thrive on harmony. It’s what captivates us as we look at great works of art. So there’s my challenge; to
As I work, whether modeling in clay or wax, carving in wood or stone, engraving steel or assembling different materials, I’m repeatedly guided by feelings I get when I see and touch the work at hand. The innate intention of an artist is to convey the essence of both subject and material. I’m constantly working to clarify the forms and refine the designs in order to convey the feelings I’m moved by.
Some of my work is inspired by the people, animals and things I see around me; fleeting moments, glimpsed in passing. Inspiration also
Art for me is a natural extension of living. When I make something, all my creative resources come to bear. I love the challenge of solving a problem or making something that others will enjoy and live with. It puts me in touch with my deeper feelings and is a means for interpreting, distilling, and conveying, both visually and tactilely, that which cannot be seen or may otherwise be taken for granted.
Ever since that first slap and cry at St. Josephs back in 56’
Seven years later, on sabbatical in Oak Ridge, Mom was introduced to potting and I met my future wife Ranja. It’s a long story but she was 6 and I was 12. I’m embarrassed to say I mostly remember playing with her older siblings, swimming, making hay houses and riding their horses and burros. I do remember her as a feisty little sun baked blonde.
During my teenage years, I got interested in pottery and woodcarving. The winter of 1975 found me spending 30 or 40 hours
I was lucky to have four summers at Marguerite’s Pond Farm Pottery, learning about drawing,
Back in Alaska, I built a couple of yurts on a Fairbanks hilltop. I went to Monday night drawing, carved, modeled and tinkered. In 1985, Ranja came for a visit and… I suppose I should start over and keep it to the highlights:
tentative steps up on Cranberry Ridge,
Sacks in a closet of hard Logan bread,
travel by Cat bucket, backpack, and sled.
Summer, sabbatical, hay, horse, and
Dad’s watching grizzly, Mom’s throwing clay,
I’m skinny and dipping with brothers in May.
Boreal rambles with hockey stick sword,
summers of building with log and with
Bent knives and boxes, fireweed fall,
ski race and ice skate, the north country’s call.
Blacksmith and hammer, adze,
Clay figure, foundry,
Master and model, bent steel, stone.
Grandmother, Moses, Mt. Aetna and hen.
To yurts on a hilltop by ski,
cooking and carving with soapstone and fire.
Ranja a beacon from childhood past,
True Love for life and companion to last.
On frostbitten bus ride from winter to warm,
By chisel to
Careering as sculptor, boom-bust, again boom,
Our children are growing, farewell horse and friend,
back out on the highway to northern road’s end.
Shop, house, and heating in timber and steel,
pump, pipe, and code, reinventing no wheel.
In Homer and
from unraveled tangle of nettle and soul,
the phoenix has risen, the ashes now cold,
all mingling back into whence they were made.
Along with all the pictures of sculpture on the site, from the Tour menu, you’ll find pages with pictures of our workshop, interesting tools and of our place with its animals, gardens, buildings, innovative solar thermal
Get in touch…
Don’t hesitate to get in touch with questions about our work, the possibility of commissioning something special, our place, or any of the projects you find interesting.