about

My father told me many times, "don't be a jack-of-all-trades, master of none." He sensed something in my core that could prove to make my life more challenging than necessary, more angst fueled, more complicated. But, my father also told me to seize the day, he told me the world was my oyster, that life is short, to look forward and go for the gusto. He used all of those phrases repeatedly. It comes as no surprise to me that my dual nature accepted both of those somewhat diametrically opposed edicts equally. I fought myself to be monochromatic, but lost. I have won the path of an unholy polymath. But it wasn't really a choice. Each endeavor made itself known to me, implanted itself through epiphany, and refused to let me live in singular peace. Life has been a balancing act, hovering between brute practicality and "indulgent" creativity. Many of you know this tension.

I am pulled to do these things. These ideas present themselves through various media, for better or for worse. I have kept them to myself for too long, so I must put them out there for you to take or leave.

The written word emerged first. I discovered the seductive power of words, of thoughts, of the necessity of story. In the tenth grade, a writing assignment catalyzed my passion. Not knowing what to write about, I randomly and prophetically scribbled about the windows in the classroom overlooking the courtyard. The writing itself had no tooth, but I had been bitten.

Other forms of storytelling followed: music, painting, theater. Each one soothed a different quadrant of my brain. Some pursuits led me and others chased me. My fear of the stage pushed me to act. A trip to an art gallery forced me to purchase paints and canvas. Fear and loathing of my self brought forth my singing voice. Paris, Texas taught me that film could be elevated beyond escapist entertainment, but more importantly, that stories could be told visually. I attended college but not as a means to an end, not for the paper, but as a stage in the journey. I cooked to pay the bills. I created a restaurant that was both an extension of my soul and a compromise between my true self and the mask, between vocation and avocation, between the grind and the sublime. There is no more time for compromise.

A coherence does exist in all my work, believe it or not: the joy and wonder of the universe, of quantum physics; the transcendent qualities of the human soul; the mysteries of life, of God and gods and the void; the feel of dirt, the rhythm of water, the imprisoned history of stone, the mute roar of a vast, windswept plain, the pull of the Atlantic; the coexistence of the spirit and the rational mind, of miracles and the periodic table, of muscle atrophy and the will to live; of home and loss. I could go on, but describing that through-line is difficult and not something any artist likes to engage in.

I've begged me to reconsider this path, many times throughout my history, but to no avail. And in a fit of loving, rage-blinded filial piety, I will obey and defy my father.

Thank you for your interest.