Writer, Artist and Conduit
When I'm not working as fundraiser for good causes, I'm often writing fiction or making art.
These pages may give you some idea what kind of things interest me.
These pages may give you some idea what kind of things interest me.
WHAT I'M THINKING ABOUT LATELYIn her sixties, my dear Aunt Jeanne returned from a year working for the Peace Corps in Sierra Leone with an incredibly inspiring attitude. During her visit to my cabin in the woods, she was washing the dishes when she came across a dog food can that needed rinsing before going into the recycle bin. ‘Hmmm,’ she said, holding it up as if she'd never seen one before. ‘What can we use this for?’ She taught me profound sustainability, how we can make almost everything from scratch and reuse most things, only purchasing something new when absolutely necessary. Now I eschew packaging and I collect found materials to incorporate into my artwork. Almost every day I find a washer in the street. Who is losing them and where/how will I ever use them all? |
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M Y F I R S T N O V E LThe Recreation of Sinners is now available on kindle. Ready for an adventure? Escape to Virgina in the 1830's! |
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Please watch the 2022 documentary SCRAP, written and directed by Stacey Tenenbaum. A loving portrait of the things we leave behind — that once were so important to us. Do we really need everything? |
O N E G O A LLeave the world a little better than I found it. |
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≈It feels good as it is without the giant,
A thinker of the first idea. Perhaps The truth depends on a walk around a lake, A composing as the body tires, a stop To see hepatica, a stop to watch A definition growing certain and A wait within that certainty, a rest In the swags of pine-trees bordering the lake. Perhaps there are times of inherent excellence, As when the cock crows on the left and all Is well, incalculable balances, At which a kind of Swiss perfection comes And a familiar music of the machine Sets up its Schwärmerei, not balances That we achieve but balances that happen, As a man and woman meet and love forthwith. Perhaps there are moments of awakening, Extreme, fortuitous, personal, in which We more than awaken, sit on the edge of sleep, As on an elevation, and behold The academies like structures in a mist. — Wallace Stevens |
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