Movement defines my life and my outlook on art. Change disrupts my ability to settle and forces me to
grow beyond the boundaries I was prepared to cross. These changes may be positive or negative in their
immediate effect, but the long term result creates a dynamic personal story and carries over to an energetic
and contemplative body of artwork.
My calling to art is one of extreme emotional swings. I have loved and lost, won and sabotaged, earned
and neglected, been trustworthy and suspect, been fortuitous and tragically dire and still I remain faithful.
The experiences have provided me an understanding of humanity in an important, well rounded way.
That my failings and shortcomings have molded me more than my successes is undeniable. Those reflections
of imperfection are the trials of the heart and the insight I share with collectors through my glass narrative
work. For in those short stories of color, texture and light one may find the hope resonating within us as
the ultimate gift from God... We live or die by the choices we make and it is not too late to choose wisely.
The fact that I was a competitive gymnast in my youth, a lifelong skateboarder, the head cook for a restaurant,
a manager for several copy centers, an organic farmer, or the winner of a full academic scholarship
to the University of Florida is only a resume bolstering part of my story. Does it matter that I failed art history
and lost my scholarship, had to quit gymnastics due to injury, or left management in distressed frustration?
Does it matter that I came to glass blowing in an insane act of escapism? Does it matter that I do not hold
an actual art degree or that I gained my perspective of fine art through a life lived by the essence of everyday
artistic expression in the motion of performance, in the nature of energy and growth, or in the nuances of food
presentation? Does it matter that my passion alternates between realism and surrealism because I believe
great, impacting moments are experienced in clarity, as well as through blurred vision? Does it matter that I am
just a man who finds humility to be the most admirable form of artistic expression and patience the most useful
gift in the artist’s fruit bowl?
What matters is that I say, “Yes!” to life. I say, “Yes” to projects that take me to the edge of my ability. And
because of that, I now have six pathogen sculptures on permanent display in the Smithsonian’s Natural
History Museum’s exhbit, the David H Koch Hall of Human Origins. It is because I said, “Yes!” to forgoing
health insurance, “Yes!” to penalties on an early withdrawal of my 401k, and “Yes!” to perceived insecurity
by worldly standards that I am now a happy, well respected glass artist. I have a style and a voice that is as
much my own and personal as is my journey to become the man I want to be. However, I am humbled everyday.
I am humbled by the demanding nature and intensity of glass. I am humbled by the extraordinary talent of
other artists. Most of all, I am humbled by the amazing artistry and wisdom, as well as, the undeserved love
and kindness of our Creator.
There is so much to learn.
grow beyond the boundaries I was prepared to cross. These changes may be positive or negative in their
immediate effect, but the long term result creates a dynamic personal story and carries over to an energetic
and contemplative body of artwork.
My calling to art is one of extreme emotional swings. I have loved and lost, won and sabotaged, earned
and neglected, been trustworthy and suspect, been fortuitous and tragically dire and still I remain faithful.
The experiences have provided me an understanding of humanity in an important, well rounded way.
That my failings and shortcomings have molded me more than my successes is undeniable. Those reflections
of imperfection are the trials of the heart and the insight I share with collectors through my glass narrative
work. For in those short stories of color, texture and light one may find the hope resonating within us as
the ultimate gift from God... We live or die by the choices we make and it is not too late to choose wisely.
The fact that I was a competitive gymnast in my youth, a lifelong skateboarder, the head cook for a restaurant,
a manager for several copy centers, an organic farmer, or the winner of a full academic scholarship
to the University of Florida is only a resume bolstering part of my story. Does it matter that I failed art history
and lost my scholarship, had to quit gymnastics due to injury, or left management in distressed frustration?
Does it matter that I came to glass blowing in an insane act of escapism? Does it matter that I do not hold
an actual art degree or that I gained my perspective of fine art through a life lived by the essence of everyday
artistic expression in the motion of performance, in the nature of energy and growth, or in the nuances of food
presentation? Does it matter that my passion alternates between realism and surrealism because I believe
great, impacting moments are experienced in clarity, as well as through blurred vision? Does it matter that I am
just a man who finds humility to be the most admirable form of artistic expression and patience the most useful
gift in the artist’s fruit bowl?
What matters is that I say, “Yes!” to life. I say, “Yes” to projects that take me to the edge of my ability. And
because of that, I now have six pathogen sculptures on permanent display in the Smithsonian’s Natural
History Museum’s exhbit, the David H Koch Hall of Human Origins. It is because I said, “Yes!” to forgoing
health insurance, “Yes!” to penalties on an early withdrawal of my 401k, and “Yes!” to perceived insecurity
by worldly standards that I am now a happy, well respected glass artist. I have a style and a voice that is as
much my own and personal as is my journey to become the man I want to be. However, I am humbled everyday.
I am humbled by the demanding nature and intensity of glass. I am humbled by the extraordinary talent of
other artists. Most of all, I am humbled by the amazing artistry and wisdom, as well as, the undeserved love
and kindness of our Creator.
There is so much to learn.