michael reddell

a call for entries

2012-01-05T17:29:00.000-08:00

In October I took on the executive leadership role at the Central Coast Sculptors' Group. CCSG is an affiliated artist group at the San Luis Obispo Museum of Art. My main goal in taking on this position, is to invigorate the opportunities for art to be shown, and thus seen, in San Luis Obispo County. There are quite a few good venues already available here, but there are never enough.

Our very first project since I took on this new role is something we are calling "the Phantom Project." The idea here is to solicit the donation of vacant retail space in prime locations for temporary use as art galleries. A phantom gallery pops up for a month or so out of the retail inventory, then vanishes. Later, another phantom gallery pops up, either in the same space if it's available, or in another vacant store front elsewhere.

The shows will vary, but will always be nimble and light footed. They will come and go quickly. No year long preparations, no calls for entry 9 months in advance. The artists who participate will have to be flexible and will have to have work available to show on relatively short notice. The patrons of these shows will learn to expect surprises, both in timing and in location, and we will cultivate a sense of adventure as we go.

The first phantom show is scheduled to open on February 2 and run through March 2. It's open to all 2-D and 3-D media and will be juried at intake on January 28. Drop off your work in the morning, check back in the afternoon to see if it stays in the show.

Here's a link to our call for entries and show announcement. I hope to see you at the show!

Just Between Us

2011-05-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

May 6 is the date for this month's Art After Dark in San Luis Obispo. A highlight of this month's AAD is the opening of a new show in the McMeen Gallery upstairs at the San Luis Obispo Museum of Art. The show is named "Just Between Us". It's a collaborative experiment between Lucie Ryan and me. As we were working on the finishing touches of the show, we noticed a remarkable correspondence between our collaboration and a series of drawings by our friend and fellow artist, Evany Zuril, from Fresno. We asked her to put some of those drawings in our show, and we are happy to announce that she sent us 6 drawings to include in the show.

After the show opens, I'll post images in an entry here. I'm holding off on the pictures until then because I don't want to spoil the fun for those of you who will be able to make it out to Art After Dark. This show surprised us, even though we designed it, and we are hoping that you can come to check it out. It's a perfect example of the sum being greater than its parts—and we thought the parts were pretty damned good on their own.

Speaking of which, take a moment to get acquainted with Lucie and Evany and their work.

And if you are not familiar with the McMeen, it is at 1010 Broad Street at Monterey in San Luis Obispo. It's up the stairs at the Broad Street entrance to San Luis Obispo Museum of Art.

Art After Dark is a county wide event in which all the galleries stay open late and schedule show openings on the first Friday evening of each month.

Angels

2011-03-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

Dawn was clearly in pain. She was in need of a few days off to rest. I could see it in her face when she lifted Dad up to help him into the wheel chair or when she leaned over his bed to tend to him. I never knew what the source of this pain was, because she never spoke of it, even when I noticed it out loud with concern. Dad never knew the suffering of this woman who cared for him at the convalescent care center where he ended his days. She was there for him, day after day, for all the unceremonious, unglamorous tasks that are part of caring for a gravely ill person.

Cherie and Stacie were RNs at the hospital. They tended to dad early on, while we still thought he would recover from his surgery. He was still strong enough then to be grouchy and demanding. Cherie and Stacie are both small women, but were able to get dad in and out of bed unassisted, and they were always bright and cheerful, even when he was in the foulest of moods. I could see his demands and fussing and impatience take it's toll on them, but they never let it show through to him. They were angels for my Dad, and when he ended up back in the hospital a week later, in a different ward, both came several times to see him.

Laura was a nursing student who cared for dad a couple of days on his last visit to the hospital. She was learning her craft, and had more time for dad than the regular hospital staff, so she was able to pamper him a bit, which was something he needed.

Marie was the palliative care specialist at the hospital. She spent more time with me than with Dad, but was vitally important in helping me to understand how to balance Dad's comfort with the technical concerns of the doctors. When the time came to shift from healing to hospice, she was a godsend.

Dad's doctor is one of those guys you hope will care for you if you get really sick. He spent half an hour with dad every day for 3 weeks. He kept the channel open for me to talk to him any time I needed to, and represented his profession remarkably. Marcus Welby had nothing on Dr. Kolb.

Cindy was the hospice volunteer who came to sing hymns to Dad, accompanied by her guitar and her harp. Cindy has a rich strong voice that startles you with its uniqueness and beauty when she first begins to sing, and she picked some of the songs that I remembered my parents singing together many times. Dad and I were both deeply moved by her visit. She had also sung for Mom several times during her last days as well.

Lee is a retired nurse and resident in the assisted living place where Dad lived before he was hospitalized. Two years older than Dad and born, like him, in Fort Worth TX, they had formed a strong friendship over the past couple of years. Lee came to see Dad at the hospital both times he was there, and sat for hours by his bed every day that he was at the convalescent care center once he went into hospice care. She was a true friend.

Tim is a guy about my age who befriended Dad a couple of years ago as well. Tim knows practically everyone in the assisted living and convalescence complex where Dad lived, and is loved by all. He used to take dad out for lunch or to watch rockets launch from Vandenburg AFB or to just drive around looking at the beautiful central coast scenery. Tim is one of those guys who knows the value of unconditional love, from the giving side.

Eva was a nurse who cared for Mom in her final days. She was with her when she died. Dad always had a spot in his heart for Eva, and she came to see him the two nights before he died. She remembered many details about Mom, and talked to him, reassuring him that it was time for him to go and be with her—to "drive her around", which is something they always loved to do. Then she encouraged my brother and Peggy and me to go home and get some rest, because Dad probably was waiting to be alone to die. It is a common thing for people who are dying to wait until loved ones are gone. Mom did it too.

These are a few, but by no means all of the angels who cared for Dad and our family in recent weeks. There are more than I can remember names for, and some that I never knew names for. Tiffany, Angi, Debbie, Eppi, Irene, Virgie, Mugs, Ron, Marianne, and Bonnie are a few that come to mind. And they all are representative of the selfless nurses and caregivers who work tirelessly in every corner of the earth to do this extraordinary work. It clearly is not just for the pay. They are the bright lining of the health care industry, rewarded mostly by the inner light that calls them to such work.

Sam Reddell, June 16, 1924—March 15, 2011

2011-03-21T17:39:00.000-07:00

My dad died on March 15. At 86 years, he finally found the rest he has longed for since my mom died two and a half years ago. He was married to, and madly in love with the same woman for 59 years before her passing. He never quite made the transition to single life, and could not bring himself to seek a new companion.

Dad lived in a wonderful assisted living facility in Morro Bay, CA. He made friends there, and had a good life. He was a musician—a singer—and one of that rarest commodity in such places: a male, with his wits about him, who could walk on his own two feet. But beyond that, he was a gentle man. He had ladies lurking around trying to catch his imagination.

He was one of those "greatest generation" guys. He was unassuming and a bit shy. He served in the Pacific in WWII on a sea plane tender, the USS Suisun. He was coxswain of the captain's motor launch, and one of his duties was to run smoke screens around the ship during kamikaze raids. He never made anything of how significant his role was in the survival of his ship and the logistics group it was part of. It brought tears to his eyes to talk about the guy who replaced him in that job, the only casualty on his ship—asphyxiated in his own smoke screen when the wind shifted to engulf his motor launch. The Suisun serviced the seaplanes that brought the American Brass to the USS Missouri for the signing of the Japanese surrender in Tokyo Bay. In this role, the Suisun was the closest ship to the Missouri, and standing at attention on deck, dad had a clear view of the proceedings.

Dad raised 3 kids, lead the church choir, taught school—the first male 3rd grade teacher in California, then retired to homestead 15 acres in the remote panhandle of Idaho north of Coeur d' Alene. He worked that place for over twenty years before a major heart attack and 4-way bypass surgery brought him out of the woods to settle in California near my sister. The move to Visalia was when we all became aware of Mom's Alzheimer's disease. We could see that there were more reasons than a heart attack that brought my folks back home to the kids.

Dad was by my Mom's side every minute until she finally died of an old cancer that had been dormant for 30 years, only to surface when her mind was wracked with dementia. Strangely, the cancer seemed like an angel of mercy to cut the suffering of my mother short. After 8 years of steady and utter loss, she was set free. But Dad was not. He never made the adjustment to life without his sweetheart, and even though his body was strong, his heart was torn open.

So it is with sorrow, but more so with relief that I send my Dad to his rest. Godspeed, sailor. Your work is finally done.

Priorities

2011-03-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

My dad is in the hospital for the third time since November, and the seventh time in three years. He's 86, with several life threatening medical conditions. Of his three kids, I am the only one who lives close to him, so I am the designated point man for his care and assistance. This is a primary role for boomers these days, as our parents age and their health runs into the ditch.

I am happy to do this, and it's an honor and privilege to be there for the guy who nurtured and protected and encouraged me for all those years. But this privilege is not an easy one. There are times, sometimes extended times, in which everything else must stop, and my own priorities, goals, and ambitions take a back seat. This is one of those times.

Dad is in the hospital again, and might make it. His condition is more precarious this time than ever before. But he has bounced back every time so far, and I wouldn't want to bet against him. In the mean time I sit with him and sneak moments at Sally Loo's coffee house near the hospital to dash off an email or a blog entry when I can. But my studio is dark most of the time right now, and that's how it must be.

Art & Whimsy in the Garden

2011-02-09T19:10:00.000-08:00

Sage Eco Gardens in Los Osos, CA, launched an art show on February 5, 2011. The show features about 20 San Luis Obispo county artists with art suitable for outdoor display, and will run through May. I have 4 pieces in the show, including the debut of the new figurative work I am doing in pewter, along with two steel masks and bronze figure.

Pewter is a new direction for me, and by nature it requires a small scale. The figures in the photo above would all be about four and a quarter inches tall if standing. Due to the low melt temperature of pewter, these pieces were directly cast from high temperature rubber molds rather than the lost wax process.

The bronze figure shown below is a somewhat larger piece. If standing, she would be about 16 inches tall, but is seated on a rock in the middle of a waterfall overlooking a pond.

You can see these and much more at Sage Eco Gardens between February and May of 2011.

Pecha Kucha Night in San Luis Obispo, Vol. 13

2010-11-30T18:18:00.000-08:00

I will be presenting at Pecha Kucha Night, Volume 13 on the evening of December 10. The event starts at 8:20PM. The doors open at 7 and you would be advised to get there then if you want a seat. This event is usually SRO.

Pecha Kucha, a Japanese term, translates roughly as "chit-chat" in English. Since it began in Japan in 2003, Pecha Kucha has grown into a world wide phenomenon, with regularly hosted events in over 370 cities around the globe. You can learn more at http://pechakucha-sanluisobispo.blogspot.com/ and at http://www.pecha-kucha.org/.

For a brief description of what my presentation will be, show up on Pecha Kucha night and see for your self. (I really couldn't describe it adequately here.)

Allied Arts 2010 Sculpture Exhibit

2010-10-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

I managed not to post anything about this show when it happened, Partly because I was very busy helping Lucie Ryan curate the show. It was a remarkable show with over 90 pieces exhibited. The quality of work was outstanding. Although it was an open show, sponsored by Allied Arts of Cambria, it was as good as, or better than many juried shows I have seen and been involved with. This was partly due to the fact that Lucie beat the bushes in a 5 county area and pressed a lot of really good artists into the service of the show.
The show ran from September 10 to October 3, 2010 at the old elementary school in Cambria.

Dynamic modeling

2010-06-24T17:22:00.000-07:00

Recently I posted this on the forum at artmodelplace.com.

My method as a sculptor involves working primarily from my internal vision of human form, expression, and anatomy. I get bogged down in a long held pose because it is often difficult for models to hold a pose that captures movement and active expression for more than a few minutes.

For me, the ideal is to have a model available and posing, but not necessarily for the piece I am working on. The energy of the live model is more helpful than the actual pose. And then occasionally, I need the model to strike the pose I am working on to help me work through a problem area in the work. Often these poses are taxing and can only be held comfortably for brief periods.

With this in mind, I wonder about the idea of a workshop or unstructured session with a model who is simply available to hold poses for different artists in the room for a few moments now and then, working with different artists around the room as needed. This would only work for artists who work somewhat like I do, from their own internal vision. It might work best with a regular group of artists who have established an interest in this method. Otherwise it could be quite frustrating and chaotic. Artists who rely heavily on a static pose to guide them through their work would not be comfortable in this environment, and could disrupt the flow.

Any thoughts on this?

A Collaboration: The Dining Room

2010-03-28T18:13:00.000-07:00

The San Luis Obispo Museum of Art's Craftmakers Group presents "A Collaboration: The Dining Room" this coming Friday, in the McMeen Gallery. The show features a variety of fine craft including clay, glass, fiber, metal and wood. The exhibit is on view April 2-May 2, 2010.

Third Annual Beacon Show

2010-03-10T10:48:00.000-08:00

The Third annual Beacon Show: "Divine Inspiration", begins March 19 and runs through May 9, 2010. This is a juried show. Tim Anderson, Gallery Director for Cuesta College, Lee Sutter, retired journalist and California regional art writer and critic, and Rev. Jane Voigts, pastor, San Luis Obispo United Methodist Church will serve as jurors. The show is hosted by SLOUMC.

There is a reception on Friday, March 19, from 6-9 PM, and the show is open Thursday through Sunday, 11 AM - 4 PM. There is a second reception, for Art After Dark, on April 5.

I will have three pieces in the show. Two are wall hung pieces in the abstract. They are made of steel with applications of copper and bronze. The third is a figurative piece, also wall mounted but in the round.

All of these pieces represent the methods and concepts that are at the leading edge of my current creative movement and process.

I encourage you to check out this show if you get the chance. The Beacon show is only three years old, but it is a quality show with a solid reputation in the San Luis Obispo art community.

Artist's Statement

2010-03-05T09:12:00.000-08:00

Here is the artist's statement I am using with my resume these days.

Art as I see it...art as I make it
Art takes simple physical form and finds within it an expression or gesture that offers hints to the heart and soul of the viewer. Art leaves much to the viewer. It never tells all. It never bludgeons the viewer with answers.
It is this teasing at the edges, this suggestive revealing, that empowers art. This evocative interplay of gesture and expression, often elusive, often ambivalent, always open to interpretation, is the challenge for my work.
Art foremost is a collaborative storyteller. As such, it must speak to the viewer...the interpreter. Art without an interpreter is nothing but inventory. Art that leaves none of the storytelling to the viewer is still only inventory.
My art is made with fire and force: hammers and anvils and furnaces and torches. Sometimes, especially with steel, the making is a struggle of maker and material. It is often a battle of elemental forces. This struggle plays out in the surprising delicacy of these works in steel. There is an extra dimension of expressive energy captured by the stubborn resistance of steel against the making. It is a dimension that is informed by my expectations and demands as maker, and as viewer as well.
I usually do not ascribe titles to pieces, since this act would steer the viewer toward my preconceived ideas and thus abort the interaction between the maker and the interpreter. And I am often surprised at the direction that viewers take with a piece. That surprise is the litmus paper for my success.

Santa Barbara Sculptors' Guild Winter Show

2010-02-28T21:16:00.000-08:00

The third annual Santa Barbara Sculptors' Guild Winter Show starts tomorrow, March 1, 2010. It's at the Faulkner Gallery in Santa Barbara. It's a juried show, and I'm in it with this ensemble piece. If you find yourself in Santa Barbara in March, stop by and check it out.

Avoiding the curse of the long tail

2010-02-20T23:05:00.000-08:00

A few months ago a foundryman told me he had noticed that most art sales came from people who had met the artist, perhaps at an opening, or who somehow connected with the artist in a meaningful way. That's what the blog post, 1000 True Fans, is saying...cultivate and nurture real connections to fans of your art and therefore transform them into micro-patrons. This makes a lot of sense in a world that always seems to be expanding away from personal contact!

The 96/27 dichotomy

2010-02-15T17:19:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, I visited a wonderful painter and friend of the arts in Soquel, just south of Santa Cruz, CA. She is in her 80s and as sharp and insightful now as the day I met her several decades ago. We talked a bit about my art, and her daughter Kathy's art, and the struggle that artists have everywhere to be recognized in their work, and to find a level of support that allows for the work to go on.

I mentioned to her the study from the Urban Institute that makes the following observation:

"Data from our national poll on attitudes toward artists suggest that people highly value art in their lives. The poll revealed that there was very high demand for what artists produce. In fact, 96 percent of respondents said they were greatly inspired and moved by various kinds of art.
However, the artist as creator of goods (works of music, film, literature, and so on) often appears to be divorced in the public mind from the good itself. Only 27 percent of respondents said that artists contribute 'a lot' to the good of society. Thus, even when an artist's work is recognized as valuable and goes on to influence individuals and society in many forms, the link between that good – and the effort and resources that went into making it – and the artist who made it is often invisible."

The incongruence of the data sited here is astonishing, but comes as no surprise. Any artist knows that the public at large thinks of art as a hobby. Something that really talented people choose to do in their spare time. As we talked about this strange paradox, my friend suggested that perhaps we are looking at the wrong segment of society. She pointed out that she knew many people who support the arts with their money, their patronage, and their unbridled enthusiasm. She was, in a sense, correct. There are those people. Some of the 27% are in that category. But the real question, the one I am writing about here, is about that 69% who apparently think that fairies bestow inspired and moving works of art upon society without any apparent effort.

To some extent, it seems to me that this is what I like to call "the WalMart problem." There has developed, in the past few years, a perverse expectation in America that you can buy anything for a discount price. Stuff that used to be expensive can now be had, via WalMart and its competitors, for a few cents, plus the cost of shipping it from China on a freighter en masse. When you suggest that your painting is worth $500, the reaction of the typical consumer is, "but I can get one of those at WalMart for $29.95." The reality, of course, is that you can do no such thing, but the perception persists.

Another phenomenon that has accompanied the growth of the WalMart problem, is the inflation of the relative value of disposable and perishable services and commodities. How many of us routinely spend hundreds of dollars on things like cell phone minutes, hair styling, alcohol and drugs (legal and otherwise), mindless cable programming, junk food, and assorted throw-aways each month. All of these are items that have a very short half-life and are of dubious or limited value. And how many of these same people, when we see a work of art that moves us deeply, over and over again, every time we encounter it, will pay the price tag to make that piece of artwork a permanent and lasting part of our life? At least 69% of us apparently will not.

I do not know the answer to this dilemma. One of the conclusions of the Urban Institute study was that a shift in public perception is needed. Clearly, I agree. The conversation with my friend on Saturday came to a pause, then my friend said,"What we need is an agent! We need to find you and Kathy an agent." And she was right. This is what is missing in the arts.

Artists are notoriously reticent, or incapable, to sell themselves to the outside world. We cringe at the very idea of having to leave the studio to ask someone to buy, or even show, our work. I know a very few artists who are good at this, or have a significant other who is good at it, and they usually do fairly well. So I am actually thinking about the idea of commissioning an agent for my work. That, of course, means I better get busy in the studio!

Shimmerfire

2010-01-27T13:57:00.000-08:00

Down in shadows of the great dark wood
Her brooding mystery runs
To the depth of languid black pools.
Fierce nurture, gentle terror.
The delicate lace of her foliage
Erupts with the force
Of the Green Man’s passing
And the still shimmer of his molten heat
Bakes and burnishes summer upon her hills.

MY first commissioned sculpture was a bronze. It was also a nude. It was done over thirty years ago, and I have long since lost track of it and it’s buyer. The buyer had requested a nude bronze likeness of herself for her husband’s birthday. She was well into her forties, and he in his seventies. She had said, “I want it to look like me, but you’ll have to use your imagination.”

I've never had a shortage of imagination, so I got right to work. There was no base beneath the figure. The piece was designed to sit on a ledge or shelf. She would have been about eighteen inches tall if standing, but she sat leaning slightly forward with her hands on the edge, and her legs dangling over. Her face and expression were a good representation of the subject, but were more concerned with the essence of her feminine charm and mature beauty than with photographic accuracy. How well I captured her form and the lines and detail of her body is, of course, left to your imagination.

At that time, I had not worked in any kind of metal before. My experience thus far had been in clay and wood and stone. By a remarkable stroke of providence, there was an art foundry less than three miles from where I lived, and I made my way there.

The proprietor was a foundryman; a weathered, leathery cowboy artist who made his way sand casting belt buckles for the leather craftsmen in the street fair trade. He might have been much younger, or much older than his features would suggest, but it was impossible to tell which. The foundryman claimed to know the lost wax method, and spoke authoritatively about the process we must use to successfully accomplish the piece. I was sufficiently impressed with his talk, and his skill with buckles, and sufficiently without better alternatives, so I hired the foundryman to cast my work. The only condition being that I be allowed to be present and part of each step in the process.

No work had been done on the sculpture when I first approached the foundryman. It was still a fluid idea in my mind. We discussed the technical aspects of the project, and I began to have a better understanding of the production issues and design factors that would be involved. Then I began the work, first in familiar clay. Then, under the skilled guidance of the foundryman, I learned to transfer the image to wax form, which I gave more detail and expressive energy.

As we worked together I gained full confidence in the craft of the foundryman. We added the gate, sprues, and risers; the system of ducting and venting that would allow the molten bronze to flow freely to every part of the figure. The foundryman patiently explained every point of theory and practice as we continued the work. His student absorbed it all, and most of my practice over the ensuing years has been informed by this brief apprenticeship.

Finally the piece was ready and we put it into its encasement of refractory plaster and prepared it for the pour. Next we put it into a kiln to burn out the wax, drive off the remaining vestiges of moisture, and pre-heat the mold for the pour. The morning of the pour was cold and foggy with a mystical northwest drama of spirit that I had grown to love and revere in Seattle in the Fall. It reminded me of Celts and Druids and mysteries of fertile earth and untamed wilderness. Untamed even though in the heart of the city. No other city I had ever been in could boast this
extraordinary phenomenon. The primitive ancient energy of earth and rampant vegetation and damp wilderness would not give in to the onslaught of progress in this place, and I lived and worked and played in it with awe and reverence. It was only fitting that the damp mist should shroud the foundry yard as we prepared for this ancient bronze-age ritual.

The foundryman had come early to fire up the melt furnace. It was loaded with a crucible of bronze and covered to retain the heat against the damp chill. Fire roared out of the small vent in the lid. The foundryman greeted me distractedly, continuing to work, opening the kiln, which had been shut down for hours to allow the mold to cool slightly. We worked together in the early morning twilight to set the still hot mold in position for the pour. The furnace roared with gas flames, white hot and swirling furiously. The foundryman removed the lid revealing an outrage of heat and light and fury all glowing and broiling out of the mouth of the furnace. He checked the temperature of his little pot of hell and deemed it suitable for the transforming task at hand. He shut down the furnace and skimmed the slag from the surface of the bronze with a pine board. The board flared up instantly and burning intensely as it touched the metal, but somehow it seemed well suited to the task and cleaned the surface of the molten metal to a smooth shimmering mirror.
I was unprepared for the profound mystery of what I would experience in the dim twilight of that early morning as I looked down into the crucible of bronze. It was a shimmering radiance like nothing I had ever seen. The metal was a liquid mirror, rippling and wet and hot and glowing full of light. The damp cold and shrouding mystical fog yielded to its fierce energy of light and power and sheer intensity of being. And yet the bronze did no harm to the brooding spirits of the mist and the lush vegetable growth of the hillside. They were brother and sisters. Utterly different and unlike each other, and yet perfectly matched and melded and merged in energy and balance.

Foundryman and sculptor worked together to pour the shimmerhot liquid into the mouth of the mold, pouring steadily until the glowing liquid rose to the tops of all the riser ports indicating that the pour was complete. Now it was done but for the cooling and cleaning. We would chip away the mold investment, chisel and grind the gating away, then chase and sand blast and patina and buff the surface to get the desired effects in the bronze.

As the pour was completed and the bronze cooled, the secrets of place and craft softened and settled quietly into the metal. The buyer would not know what magic and mystery of fire and mist and fertile pregnant earth lay hidden and waiting in the heart of the little figure who sat smiling from a bookshelf at her husband each day.

Hearts Obispo 4 - "This One's for You"

2010-01-24T23:30:00.001-08:00

The 4th annual Hearts Obispo show is going on now: January 20 - February 13, 2010 at Artspace Obispo in the Creamery. There's a reception during Art After Dark, February 5, and a silent auction to benefit Arts Obispo. The idea behind this show is art you can buy for your Valentine.

I have a piece in the show, so stop by on the 5th to say hi.

“Art is the sex of the imagination.” - George Jean Nathan

2010-01-24T20:24:00.001-08:00

I’ve always liked Nathan’s statement. But art is really the foreplay of the imagination. It teases and torments both artist and viewer, coaxing them onward, not reaching consummation.

Art takes simple physical form and finds within it an expression or gesture hinting at the heart and soul of the viewer. It is this teasing at the edges, this suggestive revealing, that empowers art. This evocative interplay of gesture and expression is the litmus paper. It must speak to the viewer...the interpreter. Art without a viewer is nothing but inventory. Art that leaves none of the storytelling to the viewer is still only inventory.

My art is made with fire and force: hammers and anvils and furnaces and torches. Sometimes, especially with steel, the making is a struggle of maker and material. It is often a battle of elemental forces. This struggle plays out in the surprising delicacy of these works in steel. There is an extra dimension of expressive energy captured by the stubborn resistance of steel against the making. It is a dimension that is informed by my expectations and demands as maker, and as viewer as well.

I usually do not ascribe titles to pieces, since this act would steer the viewer toward my preconceived ideas and thus abort the interaction between the maker and the interpreter. And I am often surprised at the direction that viewers take with a piece. That surprise is a good measure of my success.