Creativity, and the forces that awaken and perpetuate it, are fragile things—the origins of which elude me. I have always loved antiques and old toys; been fascinated by the art and craft of ancient civilizations; been inspired by architecture and late 19th century agricultural and industrial construction and have found peace in the effortless beauty of nature. All of these influences inform my aesthetic sensibilities.
One of the wonderful benefits of making each piece myself is that often, in the process of making, the objects grow away from the original vision into something quite different and exciting. My most recent body of work includes wall pieces, toys and buildings—they spring from a desire to create objects that elicit an emotional response from the viewer—a memory, a longing, a subtle sadness or a sense of comfort.
I’ve always assumed that, surely, everyone understands the value and importance of genuinely hand-made objects and am always disappointed to discover that some people simply don’t care how an object is made, or by whom, or whether by a machine or human hands. I, personally, believe that a one-of-a-kind object is inherently different from an object that exists in multiples—it is unique and, consequently, more ‘precious.’ It is not always safe to assume, even at the finest art and craft shows, that the artist in the booth made each piece with his or her own hands. IF it matters to you, ask questions and listen carefully. I am grateful to those of you who have appreciated and purchased my work over the years, and who recognize the importance and relevance of objects created by a craftsman’s own hands.
I maintain a true, one-person studio. Each piece that I create is designed and executed without assistants or production techniques, using only basic hand and power tools. I will occasionally create two or three variations of an object, but my sculptural and tabletop objects are primarily one-of-a-kind.