About 20 paintings of Iceland and other dark places will remain up throughout February at Fox Optical and Gallery, and (weather allowing!) Tim and Mike will be open for First Friday reception February 7th. I’m posting this essay, hoping it may entice some of you to come out and see the pictures, or to look further into the ‘flickr’ gallery […]

I remember the potter said, why he makes what he makes when he makes it: Make what moves you, most. Making, I say, moves me most. By the River I make tracks where vole and rabbit, fox and hopping birds already left their skittering script. I don’t know cursive. I only print my two mute boots across their snow poetry, […]

I have learned a whole lot of things from my 90 year old friend Bob.   He is a man with a long resume that includes technician, machinist, carpenter, rifleman, ball turret gunner, flight engineer, wood worker, gardener, home builder, electrician, not to mention husband, father, scout leader, and church member.  But you could interview him for hours and the […]

Only us awake, we listen further out, the trees and me, we want to hear the stars hum and the big moon break its suction when it floats up free we want more tonight than the pumping xylem and the blood, more than our breathing bodies their Out, my In my Out, their In The problem lies in mine and […]

                An exhibit of 13 paintings has gone up at the marvelous Nurture Nature Center in Easton, PA, and can be seen there until July 11.  I am so glad to have these dream images hung in a place dedicated to understanding and caring for the earth. The Center relies on Art and Imagination as well as Science and Technology […]

 I recently returned from 10 weeks of painting in Skagaströnd, in the North of Iceland.   There are many canvases to unpack but for now I have this to share: Every day In Skagaströnd fishing boats haul in staggering tons of cod and haddock. In the old days I am told there were even more and the fish were herring. There […]

Some nights I sleep outside in a special clearing in the woods. Peter cut down the brambles there when he was 16 or so.  Three years later, after everything happened, a neighbor came with a little tractor and a truckload of Delaware river gravel.  He cut into the hillside and poured out a smooth expanse of the little stones.  I […]