Resurrection, transformation, and the fascination with objects form the basis of my work. A childhood desire to become an architect propelled me towards the "hands on" building of model cities, towers, and polychromed "yachts." I'd never thought of myself as a sculptor, even as a youth constructing detailed model railroads and cityscapes. One semester in engineering school, however, convinced me that there was no formula for my visions. My own hand and eye would dictate the fanciful, tactile world which I might inhabit; and so, I became (am becoming) an artist.

Technology has unleashed a multitude of "raw material" for my use. Discarded computers, televisions, and plastic toys have become key elements for my microcosms of our sprawling landscape. It's ongoing and growing as my work becomes a metaphor for the "stuff" encrusting the urban environment. I don't think of it as political, and yet the obsession betrays a moral dilemma. I crave the "stuff" which pours from our technoculture even as I am repulsed by the same material culture. It overwhelms me, and I cannot deal with it other than as an artist, a builder. What is one to do?

At age 62, I continue working towards a dream of resurrection and integration; of making my vision increasingly accessible to all members of society. My work is inclusive. It takes its form from the popular icons and electronic gadgets consumed by a mass culture, and in turn is fed back to the people through my own metamorphosis.

I would sail away on one of my own boats. I would inhabit my own fictionalized towers with their many stories. And I would travel the circuits and wires woven through the generic cities of capacitors, BIC lighters, computer keys, and plastic toys as if I were an electron racing towards self-discovery.