The purpose of my artwork is to invoke an awakening of the sensual. Stimulating a perceptual, internal, and intellectual response for the viewer: a visual that speaks to life’s experiences. Creating symbols of universal connection underscores the relationship that one has to another and to nature.
Morphologies emerge in variable ways,
Protruding through space and time,
Yielding multifarious mazes.
On days like today, I stand like a kid,arms spread wide looking up into the snowcoming down onto me and think about howyou used to say that you didn’t mindthe cold so much. You were a northern man.So am I, I guess. You liked how sleet bit, snapping like champagne bubbles when it hityour face. You liked driving in freezing rain.When […]
What I mean is that you gave me how to lookat the forest. What I mean is that we couldwalk a trail silent, and on a night like this you’dsay “shut up,” and I’d listen to lightning cookthe ozone above. What I mean is you taughtme love, almost. You taught me to trust,almost. You taught me what it meant to […]
I speak to you like you can hear me.I say, “Jesus, that beech tree’s going to fallover isn’t it.” The tree in that wallof wind that brings the storm. You would beunimpressed, I think. So little impressed you. You liked rich men who said mean thingsabout poor people. I remember you laughingat them. I don’t think you’d be moved by the […]
After famished deer foraged The buds donning dormancy’s sleeping caps of snow, I mourned losing May’s boon of blooms tossing their pink and purple bouquetsto the eager bridesmaids of bees— though each spring morning, my gazesought out the phantom flora the way amputees feel for the missing limb. How to sate this hunger for beauty if eyes can’t buffet on the banquet of blossomsserved up […]
As I excavate their basement studios of loam, I loveHow the worms completely ignore their new landlord While the neighboring divas of weeping willowsDon’t lose their lovey leaves’ hairdos worrying if I’ll ruin their high-rise view of dawn slowly raking over Moose pond—so owning, finally, my modest lot where skunks squat, non-stop, I concede my provisional rule over this fiefdom of forest […]