I grew up in Milwaukee. From the earliest I can remember I would spend endless daytime hours on the Lake Michigan shore watching the boats. I’d wonder where they came from and where they would voyage to. If only I could run away and go there too. At night the spectacle of water and sky was a vast openness which seemed to be a darker than darkest blackboard. My restless imagination drew all sorts of inner scenarios onto that blackboard. These scenarios came from an overwhelming sense of wonderment before me as well as an oppressive sense of fear.
As a kid I drew all the time. If asked what I wanted I would draw it. I guess I felt it was my most effective form of communication. It worked for me. I was as sent to an art school to channel my limitations and restive nature.
And so it seems I’ve always been conflicted between fascination and fear; desire and dread; solitude and solidarity; the desire to connect with primitive nature but living in an urban environment; boundless spontaneity bottled up in physical limitations.
I don’t think this makes me any different from anyone else. Our personal stories - the details of how we get to where we are at - may differ. But should we in our separate journeys cross paths, we may come to recognize ourselves in the other. That would be the greatest gift of all.