About the Artist

I was born in Vallejo, California

and three days later I was transported with my twin brother to Clear Lake Highlands where I resided for the next sixteen years. I was the middle child in a family of ten children. We lived in a very rural area far from town. We lived one mile from one of the largest freshwater lakes in California and about one mile from a lumber company. This lumber company would become my art store.

As most children do, I spent a great deal of my time drawing, coloring, making mud pies, and beating up my brothers. Because we lived not far from a lake and the winter months kept us indoors we found many ways to entertain ourselves. One such way was to design and build rafts during the winter that would be ready to launch at the beginning of summer.

We, of course, spent hours figuring out how to move our very fine raft. Sometimes having to nail pieces that had fallen off back on before we reached the lake. Once there, we would launch the raft, pile on and most often stay afloat long enough to make it to the center of the lake.

Even though we sometimes had failures with our raft design and construction, we continued to improve on them and in the process we became very comfortable in the use of building materials and tools. We also learned some things are an evolutionary process. With diligence, patience, ingenuity, and focus, we eventually built a raft that successfully transported us to our destination on the other side of the lake.

It was during these outings to the lumber company, collecting wood from the scrap piles to make rafts, that a whole new world opened up to me. Inside, I saw huge bins filled with a variety of nails and screws. I learned that there were screws for metal and wood, saw box after box and bag after bag of cement, plaster, mortar, and didn’t have a clue as to what one would do with all of these things!

They had bales of different types of wire used for fencing and chicken coops, huge roles of rope in various diameters and wooden dowels in a variety of shapes and colors. I suppose my mother knew that in a relatively short time my brothers would not want me tagging along with them and I would then be at a loss for something constructive to do.

When I was about the age of five, my mother decided she had a future artist in me, and then went about supplying me with a variety of materials from which to drawn from. Some of these materials included things we found on walks along the creek or through a field, such as twigs, rocks, pieces of weathered wood, and feathers. 

We would return home with our collection and sort through everything, examining each thing, sometimes make stories up about the things we found and how it could have come to be where it was. We would give it new life by turning it into something else. We would set about sorting and washing the things that needed to be washed. When all the materials were dry we would talk about what we would like to make or how we would like to use these objects.

My mother would then bring out a huge box filled with an array of objects, some found from previous walks, some from leftover sewing projects, bottles of paste and glue, paints, colored pencils, scissors, and my favorite: Quaker oatmeal boxes. Cut the right way, with a few added pieces and exterior embellishments, one could make beautiful drawstring handbags, doll cradles, and even cars when axles and wheels were attached. 

The only thing the junk box lacked were instructions on what to do with all of this stuff! I did not realize at the time that not having instructions or everything laid out for me was a good thing. My mother, in her wisdom, knew this. I had not yet developed the idea that there were boundaries or rules. That came much later. There was no voice or mother saying this is right or wrong. Not having these concerns allowed me the freedom to explore and experiment with a variety of materials.

My mother, unbeknownst to me, had put a wood-burning tool into the junk box. It was up to me to take the initiative and learn how to use this tool, which I did. Once I learned how to use this tool it added a new dimension to my work. My mother would often hand me art supplies with which I had no prior experience and tell me to make use of them. I always found this extremely frustrating and thought she should show me how to use them. It was years later, while attending the Academy of Art and Hayward State University, that I realized there was a method to my mother’s madness.

My mother didn’t show me how to use these products because she wanted to see if I would take the initiative to explore, experiment and incorporate these products, new and old, into my work. In her way she was teaching me to problem solve and promote the process of creative thought. Thank you, Mom.