Plato described the psyche as a sphere. For me it is a drop. He said, "Form..., even if it is quite abstract and geometrical, has an inward clang; it is a spiritual being with effects that coincide with the form". As an artist I am affected by such observations - rivers, steel, factories, and nature as I examine what is authentic in a work, in my work. The rawness of the landscape and that sense of earth are the focal shifts where I will try to fuse back some of that seen/scene, into the surface of the steel and glass.
In the studio the ripples of the water, gentle to a bit more depth, are formed through heating and slumping of glass plates in a kiln. I’ll work with various sanding and smoothing pads on stainless steel sheets until that light seems to come from within. Sometimes I’ll find a piece of mild steel with a surface flashpoint or a rusted area that starts a chain reaction of treatments on that canvas until with all the surfaces, I feel the river bed reemerge within the work. Then, just by layering over this or in a sense tempering that force of nature, I soften it with glass that has been bent then painted with an etching solution as many times as needed, to create the cascade affect of water rushing by, clouds overhead, brilliant light, a shallow stream with rocks and life below. Finally, the glass drops are composed on the surface. The drop, such a simple form, so easily disregarded because it is so common, holds the universe for me. It is the primal form, the form before all forms. The drop, the tear drop, the rain drop, the sense of coming down, washing, clearing, cleaning, is that form that is the verb in my work. I don’t disregard its power to connect on a deeper level. Each drop has a specific place and tonality. I’ll work to find the right one to place next to that one and on and on, until I feel the sheet of rain coming towards me on the river – like on the West Branch of the Susquehanna.
