A Little About Me

As a child, I was captivated by making stuff. Whether it was crafting plaster models of landscapes from memory, or designing certificates for my mother’s flower arranging classes, the desire to simply be of use, of pleasing the inner self. Parental approval, or societal concurrence had very little meaning for me, as the need to be alone, making, bore the greatest promise of happiness.

A useless student, unable to navigate the demands of authoritarian teaching or indoctrination, my escape was to enter the world of daydreaming, which I still practice with great regularity. Therein lay the creation of the most spectacular visions, but also the terrifying fear of the unkown. The darkest daydreams of what is and what may be.

Artists are akin to children, navigating the tumultuous waters of external and internal influences, ultimately emerging as the truest version of themselves, as much as society will permit them to be. 

Sometimes in life, we are compelled to follow our true calling. Returning to, and continuing on the path of wilfull creation, may not always be easy, especially when we have the baggage of a failed and pained childhood. To dig up the images and words, so long buried and smothered, is a joy and a challenge, but fair game for the surviving child to prosper. 

The undeniable love of a supportive partner (Her name is Marilyn), makes conquering the challenges of creating something that may never grace the walls of MOMA, easier than I ever imagined. The mystery of art and life enchants.