With profound respect and admiration for poet Billy Collins,
I offer this poem as an introduction.

Design

I pour a coating of salt on the table
and make a circle in it with my finger.
This is the cycle of life
I say to no one.
This is the wheel of fortune,
the Arctic Circle.
This is the ring of Kerry
and the white rose of Tralee
I say to the ghosts of my famiy
the dead fathers,
the aunt who drowned,
my unborn brothers and sisters,
my unborn children.
This is the sun with its glittering spokes
and the bitter moon.
This is the absolute circle of geometry
I say to the crack in the wall,
to the birds who cross the window.
This is the wheel I just invented
to roll through the rest of my life
I say touching my finger to my tongue.

..........................................................

The “wheel I just invented to roll through the rest of my life” is
reinvented each time I go into the studio. It shapes itself into
a body of work that evolves as I do, one day at a time.

Whether I am working in wax and oils or etching inks or acrylic
paints, the interplay of color, shape and texture continues to
pull me toward some kind of inward investigation until it feels
complete, for that day.