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My studio is a three-walled trellis, outdoors under a tarp. Paintings are on the trellis, with sculpture, and an “art trail” across a lawn featuring ten mobiles.

In my earliest memories my brothers and I made things. We drew roads among the roots of a huge spruce tree, forming little roads for little trucks. At three years old I remember the summer lawn, the rocking chairs cradling the great-aunts, great-uncles, and great-grand parents, some older than 100 years. I had to kiss the old ones.

I grew up in the Finger Lakes, a place where the people we considered rich had a house in the village and humble, tiny cottage on a lake. They would be barely middle class today. People with no cottages were poor, that included the farmers with large families and good land. Farmers with small families and poor land were very poor. Somehow we did not mind. The place was beautiful to most of us. Kids wandered free for miles and miles on summer days. Life was orderly and being skinny in just two pair of jeans was normal.

My art is grounded more in all of that than in the education and the travel that came later. I focus on my original “place”. My framed art fits into a few series, an autobiographic series, Finger Lakes drawings and paintings (imaginings of the Ice Ages here, some landscapes, some comment on regions social movements in the 19th century), and a series inspired by quotes from poetry.

Studio days include acrylic painting, drawing with Polychromos pencils, and some computer graphics. Shop days produce mobiles, picture frames, and occasionally an architectural model.

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