My Journey

One of my earliest memories is laying on a warm window seat trying to capture a Wisconsin snowstorm with a coffee can filled with broken Crayolas. Since there was no white crayon, blue snow fell on Oshkosh in the winter of 1956.

The real beginning was my first oil painting I completed at age 15. It was truly horrible, but my art teacher saw a glimmer of talent and encouraged me to continue. Tuition to a university or recognized art school was financially impossible, so I pursued an art education on my own. Inspiration was everywhere! Every artist was a demi-god, every museum was a palace of beauty. I soaked it all up. 

The '70s found me in Florida having some small commercial success with local scenes painted in oil, acrylic, and pastel. My hard-earned profits paid for every workshop, demonstration, seminar, or lecture available to me. Among others, I studied the principles and elements of composition under David Friend, nationally recognized artist and author. My work became more integrated and altogether more solid. It had substance and my fortune changed. Years followed of gallery receptions and juried exhibitions. 

There were many awards but few rewards. Painting became a never-ending struggle for that golden fleece of recognition. It was a time of angst and frustration. One day I realized I had forgotten the true meaning of being an artist. I did not like what I had become. I put down my brushes, turned my back on The Art World and walked away...

There are certain laws of Nature that we often do not understand. Salmon swim upstream to spawn, sea turtles return to the same beach to nest and true artists always return to their art. When I did, I looked for a new direction both in thought and process. I made paper collages, then went on to mixed media. My surfaces became more dimensional as I incorporated other materials. Then I discovered the art of objet trouve or found object. I was soon creating wall assemblages and free-standing constructions. 

I choose items that can no longer be of any useful purpose. At first it was the chaIlenge of turning nothing into something. But gradually my artwork became a metaphor of philosophical and social viewpoints. I use the most mundane discards in a symbolic capacity to lead the viewer to see our surroundings through new eyes. My awards are fewer now, but my rewards are so much greater. I have personal satisfaction. I communicate my beliefs. I love what I do. I remember what art is all about.... I am content.