I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, somewhere between the asphalt and the woods. As a kid, I walked city streets, rode my bike, wandered museums, frequented magic shops, fished, played in a creek, explored caves, built forts, followed railroad ties, and drew an awful lot along the way. When I grew older, I was lucky enough to carve out a living in a variety of occupations. I’ve been a teacher, a bookstore manager, a radio host, a photographer and a videographer. I’ve spent time directing theatre and writing plays, short stories and songs. And through the years, in the wee small hours of the morning, I’ve continued to draw and paint.
Lately, I’ve set aside more time for art, hoping—like most of us, I suppose—to tap into something eternal. For me, painting is the act of asking questions—some technical, but others more abstract. As I paint, I find myself pondering my own heritage, trying to understand how my particular story, rife with wonders and flaws, came to be, and how that story fits into the wild tale of the universe beyond. I don’t know if there’s any particular notion to take away from my work, other than to say that I’m clearly a little bit nostalgic for days long gone by, fascinated by faces I’ve never met, and curious to know what they might have to say to the world as we know it now. Perhaps you find that you’re this way too. And maybe that’s why our paths have crossed today.
In any case, I’m grateful to you for taking the time to stop by and glimpse into my humble realm. Heaven knows, we live in a fast world, and I’m sure there are plenty of places you could be right now. But for the next few moments, I hope you’ll take a breath. Come closer. Spend some time with me. If one or another of my works strikes you in that peculiar way that makes you want to stop and look again, I hope you’ll indulge your urge to do just that. Stay here as long as you like, standing on this bridge of art that brings our lives, for this one bright moment, together.