Art that Connects
What I want people to remember most about my work is the care and joy behind it. Each hammer mark, curve, or subtle line carries hours of focused attention and genuine love for the process. When my work outlives me, I hope that someone, somewhere, can look at a piece and think, “He really loved his work.”
There’s a magic feeling when something unique and original sits patiently at the edge of consciousness — only to be invited into existence through time and work and eventually to appear in your hands. It’s a deeply honest and vulnerable process, one that reflects my inner world and core feelings.
My hope is that, when people see my work, they can feel that same honesty—and in turn, see a reflection of themselves.
The Creative Process
Materials
I work with a variety of materials, though steel remains my foundation. It’s versatile, strong, and surprisingly pliable—much like clay, but shaped with heat instead of water. From there, I often integrate wood, leather, composites, glass, and salvaged materials, letting each contribute its own character and texture.
I’m especially drawn to reclaimed materials—a length of copper pipe from a dumpster, or a weathered piece of driftwood from the Pacific. They carry their own history, and when woven into something new, their past lives remain subtly visible. That’s the kind of story I love to tell: one of transformation and new life.
Tools
At the core, my most essential tools are my hands and eyes. Everything else—from hammer and forge to sticks and stones—is simply an extension of those. I often think of it like this: my hands are the ship, my eyes are the captain, the sea is my workspace, and the wind is God.
Technical precision allows me to reach dimensional accuracy, follow a blueprint and create a part that is closely aligned with its conception and function.
Every hammer mark, weld, and patina bears evidence of the process and tells its creation story.
Precision and Freedom
The tension between industrial precision and natural imperfection inspires me. Technical accuracy allows me to design with intention—each piece measured, aligned, and structurally sound. Nature, however, brings its own will: weathering, wearing, softening.
I love the contrast of man’s need for control with nature’s inevitable undoing. The way a piece wears over time reflects its impermanence and is a meditation of our own mortality.
When these two forces meet—when a polished surface begins to patina or machined face is touched by the elements—that’s where my art truly lives. It’s the balance of man and nature, structure and surrender.