biography

I never planned to work with “national symbols” until the events of September 11, 2001 changed things in America. That tragedy altered my view of this country and my place in it. WINDS OF CHANGE was begun months before that awful day, and finished in August, 2001; I thought. The experiences of that week resulted in a transformation of my perceptions and work.

I was scheduled to fly to Phoenix on September 12 to deliver a lecture on “Serendipity” at the Society of Animal Artists annual exhibit. Though initially inclined to cancel, I was finally persuaded to make the trip by car. It was during that 11 hour drive through the shifting static of NPR stations from San Francisco, down the deserted Central Valley, then East into the Arizona night that I began to realize things were different now. The skies were silent, empty. Virtually no one was on the road but semi rigs. The whole country was stunned. My wife (a psychologist specializing in trauma) was on duty at San Francisco General Hospital, unable to leave in case that city was targeted. Newscasters speculated on the possibility that 40,000 might be dead. Monday I was panicked at the prospect of delivering a speech Thursday; on Wednesday, tomorrow’s lecture was the least of my worries.

It would now be impossible not to change the direction of my own work to reflect this new awareness. The eagle flying alone over an abstract country would cross into a new dimension. Bare, hard bones of steel became wrapped and merged with the Stars and Stripes. The wind itself changed direction and streamed that flag out in support of our living national symbol. The empty space below has been transformed into golden fields of grains and fruit, from “sea to shining sea”, where salmon fight against the current, their offspring rush madly downstream. There are hidden things, still buried. There are visions, hidden among the clouds, and under the veils of high ideals. Some things are smooth, polished, and finished; some are rough, as yet unformed. There are dangers in hidden nets, moldering waste dumps; but most of all a cantilevered balance must be achieved and held, lest all civilization perish.

Two months ago these thoughts would have seemed pretentious? theatrical? grandiose?, but not now.

Not to me.

We have all peered over the edge, into the abyss.