Category Archives: New Work

Prince of Tides Series

1st of "Prince of Tides" series
1st of “Prince of Tides” series

Prince of Tides Series – March 4, 2016

I have always been drawn to Native American symbols. The Y’ei mask is particularly interesting. The geometric shapes are deeply symbolic. The name Yei derives from the word Yeibicheii meaning the Holy People.

I began creating these masks as a way of teaching myself metal work. Once I discovered how the Y’ei masks complimented the etched bone sculpture, I gave it a copper face and created my first mixed media sculpture. 

Ironically, my first piece was created on the day Pat Conroy died, March 4, 2016, and so I named it “Prince of Tides.” It gives a voice to these jawbones and sets them in a human posture with their arms waving as if floating mysteriously in tidal water. It all fit together so nicely that I call the sculptures the “Prince of Tides” series.

There are ten  sculptures in the series so far: Prince of Tides, Trumpeter, Medicine Woman, Sedna, Narwhale, Twins, Royal Couple, Walrus, Odin, and Pretty White Bird.

Odin, the Mighty

Odin, The Mighty
a protector in dark times

Calling on Odin…

I know that I hung on a windy tree

nine long nights, wounded with a spear,

dedicated to Odin, myself to myself,

on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.

No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn,

downwards I peered;

I took up the runes, screaming I took them,

then I fell back from there.

From an Old Norse ‘Sayings of the High One’ Larrington (1999)

Ghost Dancers: Forgotten Spirits Resurrected

spirits dancing in the night
spirits dancing in the night

Birth is a pathway to eternity. Bones remain the sole witness of a mortal existence and provide a narrative of our earthly life.  My work shows that death is not morbid, but simply the end of growth; I strive to resurrect forgotten spirits and recover stories of those deceased. In my sculptures, bones have a voice; they can now forever speak for themselves.

I dedicate this piece to my nephews Matt, Mike, and grandniece Amber, gone but not forgotten. 

Pretty White Bird

Pretty White Bird
In white waves of bliss, she flies.

Alone, and rejected from her tribe, Pretty White Bird

dances in the moonlight, the only light she’s ever known.

Cast aside for her difference, embraced only by creatures of

the night, she is stranded between loyalty and self preservation.





Dance of the Twins

Night and Day

The Dance of the Twins

The Twins stand in the spotlight of human arrogance. They dance, carefree, appearing to cheat death. Gazing upon their beauty, we screen out the decaying teeth. We pause and accept these are indeed the remains of a mortal, yet still the fantasy persists, denying our fate is just as certain. How easy it is to look to the right or left of death and imagine our time is not borrowed.


Dark Sunday

The Chalice is one of a series of raised vessels in which I experimented with the process of raising a flat copper sheet into a formed metal cup. The glowing silver cross and dangling rosary likely depicts early memories of Sunday mass at St. Patrick’s and a childhood of mysterious rituals I did not fully understand. The image evokes a somber stillness. I recall a collective body of formally dressed strangers towering over my head, hopeful seekers of redemption. Amidst the waft of frankincense and myrhh, I was hushed to silence, and so I focused on this mysterious cup: The Chalice.