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Nothing ignites my curiosity like the wilderness, and there is no cure for curiosity.

In school I was, as we all are, ushered toward the acquisition of knowledge. Less ideas and more ‘proven’ facts. Some parts of my character were stimulated- my pals were close by; and of course, girls. But the classroom was too far from the woods and water I have depended on since my youth for solitude and adventure.

My studio is a shelter constructed of these two worlds- sort of. There are pre-established certainties: if I use a power tool properly the process of building something is fluid; use only gusto and no finesse, I will have an angry weasel in my hand. And there is the wildness of my materials and the ‘otherness’ of my desire to make something that has previously only existed between my ears.

There is a snap in the air when I enter the woods or step onto a riverbank. The same electricity I feel in the hour just before daylight- my favorite time of day. My feelers are aware of every site and sound. The same sensation comes over me when I open the door to my studio.

I could not be a sculptor without the wilderness. Others could, and they have, but not me. The door to the woods is the door to the classroom.