About

I didn’t come to art through traditional channels. After thirty-five years in the collections industry, work that suited my preference for solitude and direct problem-solving, wood turning became my meditation, then my salvation, and finally my calling. Art was the first time my voice could be heard without yelling. That voice found its shape in the intersection of Japanese wabi-sabi philosophy, Scandinavian craft minimalism, and the raw honesty of the desert Southwest.

Today I create Desert Japandi sculpture, hand-turned vessels and forms that blend Japanese restraint, Scandinavian warmth, and the textures of the desert. Each piece is shaped from solid wood such as mesquite, carob, burl, Norfolk pine, and buckeye, salvaged from trees that came down for age, development, or weather. The process is deliberate and slow, guided by collaboration with nature. Nature always has veto power.

The signature of my work is kintsugi adapted for wood, where turquoise fills the cracks that other artists might hide. The repair becomes the focal point. The flaw becomes the story. The materials, wood and turquoise, come from the same desert that shaped them both.

My work sits within the lineage of contemporary wood art that bridges fine art and design. I’m influenced by the organic modern architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright and the quiet restraint of Scandinavian form, but the desert itself is the truest collaborator. Every piece is both sculpture and story, an artifact of the Sonoran landscape translated through wood.

My work has been exhibited and collected throughout the Southwest and was commissioned by the Phoenix Art Museum for its Frank Lloyd Wright exhibition in 2012. I align my practice with organic modern design and Desert Japandi principles, built on honest materials, minimal form, and respect for imperfection.

A fair amount of my work has gone out the door to somebody else’s cause. Urns for the VA, trophies for the state rifle and pistol association, a sculpture a year for Circle the City, and this year a piece for the Carmody Foundation’s Art for Good Project. I’m not going to pretend that was a plan. It just turns out that a thing made slowly by hand raises more at an auction than a check for the same money, and I’d rather give the thing.

I live and work in Phoenix, surrounded by the same desert that gives life to my materials. Each sculpture is a meditation on resilience, balance, and beauty in imperfection, a collaboration between artist, nature, and time.