• 20 Years of Sketchbooks

  • Cross
    Pen and Ink

  • Sarajevo
    I was only able to make it
    to Bosnia after the war had ended

  • Tag Studies, Prague
    Graf artists do not mind if you study their work

  • Windmill
    Pen and Ink

  • Empire Control
    Pencil,Pen and Ink

  • Prague,
    and the game GO

  • Terra Incognita
    Maps bound into book,
    pencil note
    pen and ink
    Learning through practice
    a mechanical muscle
    Memory thing
    How far can you throw
    a rock?
    It's just the physics of
    the thing: relation of bones
    to muscle. One progresses
    through measure.
    How far am I throwing the rock
    Ok, that works, continue...

  • PDX mosh Etching
    This is the NW
    in the 90's.
    Inspired by
    the band Hazel

  • Under the bridge Monotype, etching

  • Mandlebrot me Thermal Inkjet Print
    Back before
    in Photoshop

  • La Chaise de Merit Oppenheim Stoneprint Lithography

  • Tesseract 1 offset Lithography

  • Electric Mountain
    Mixed Media

20 years of sketchbooks

I have been keeping sketch books since a youth growing up in New Haven. A sketch is the reification of dreams. I tell my students a sketch a day keeps the pychiatrist away. I learned from my old friend Ivana in Prague how to properly bind a sketchbook. These are just a few examples from my books over the years. The Europeans who colonized North America attempted to rationalize the landscape, by drawing maps, inscribing and measuring latitudes and longitudes upon the wild. I think that is why I hold my sketchbooks so dear: they are not finished, but unkempt they show the true heart of the idea. This quote perhaps describes this better:

“Does Britannia, when she sleeps, dream? Is America her dream?-- in which all that cannot pass in the metropolitan Wakefulness is allow'd Expression away in the restless Slumber of these Provinces, and on West-ward, wherever 'tis not yet mapp'd, nor written down, nor ever, by the majority of Mankind, seen,-- serving as a very Rubbish-Tip for subjunctive Hopes, for all that may yet be true,-- Earthly Paradise, Fountain of Youth, Realms of Prester John, Christ's Kingdom, ever behind the sunset, safe til the next Territory to the West be seen and recorded, measur'd and tied in, back into the Net-Work of Points already known, that slowly triangulates its Way into the Continent, changing all from subjunctive to declarative, reducing Possibilities to Simplicities that serve the ends of Governments,-- winning away from the realm of the Sacred, its Borderlands one by one, and assuming them unto the bare mortal World that is our home, and our Despair.” ― Thomas Pynchon, Mason and Dixon