I was born and raised in the 1000 Islands region of New York State. My family lived in a log cabin that was built from the land on which it stood, accessed by a dirt farm road beyond the power lines. This cabin is a living sculpture with a soul of its own. The house was lit by oil lamps and the water was brought in by bucket from a hand pump outside. My family held to an ideal – an adventure – that required a perseverance like nothing I’ve seen since; especially during those long Upstate NY winters. What I saw growing up has inspired and fueled my own sense of adventure that has lasted until this day.

With minimal access to the luxuries of modern entertainment, my time was spent studying the things I loved and found fascinating. I would muse over girls from school, motorcycles, pirate ships and dragons; and draw pictures of them constantly. At a young age I showed a natural artistic ability that has always been a part of me, and it has come out throughout all of my passions and interests my entire life.

My parents and teachers paid attention to my drawings as it quickly became who I am. One of my teachers (a life-long artist) gave me private art lessons for a couple of years. Although the lessons themselves proved to be invaluable, I still consider them secondary to the stories he told of a life of art, travel and adventure.

But even then I always took my artistic ability for granted, especially as a child. I still debate in my mind if that was to my credit or detriment. Drawing came naturally to me so it was always secondary to what my real interest was. It was a way to study and obsess over something, not something to be studied or obsessed over. However, in retrospect I realize I was always studying art in a passive or reflexive way, constantly attempting to capture my interpretation of my subjects in drawings the best I could, sometimes over and over.

These drawings took me to architecture school. Growing up alongside my father on many building and construction projects, I had also developed a firm understanding of how things work and how things come together. Architecture was a natural fit for me. My portfolio consisted of drawings of girls from school, motorcycles, pirate ships and dragons; and to my surprise, was accepted as a submission at my college entry review.

I loved my time at Rensselaer. It was then that I was able to study abroad in Rome. I saw the art and architecture of Italy, and I loved that too. I saw the marble fingers of Pluto sinking into Proserpina’s stone flesh - I think we all came back to the States forever changed. I am so lucky to have this architecture degree, it has opened many doors that has made the adventures ahead possible.

New Orleans is an enchanting place. Whatever you’re chasing you’ll most likely find it here, even if you don’t know what it is. People here are hopelessly authentic - even if it means being their most tragic selves – and are openly accepting of anyone else who is as well. I found the place to be a haven for a community of misfits, and having family in the area makes it a handy lily pad to land on. I also found it to be a haven for art and music, which are right up my alley. Architecture opened the door and provided me a way to support myself.

One evening I was working late measuring a building in the French Quarter in which a mural artist was painting angels and cherubs on the ceiling aboard a tower of scaffolding. Interesting as it was, it lead to a conversation that resulted in an offer of apprenticeship. This appealed to my sense of adventure and I accepted.

We traveled from city to city in a van full of paint and books, from mural to mural. I was hired to drive the van and prepare art materials and drawings in exchange for painting lessons, room and board, and minimal pay. The artist specialized in the painting techniques of the Old Masters and taught them to me. It was only for a short period, but I painted constantly during that time and found myself very fond of oil painting. He was quite the character and I wasn’t sure if I could really believe anything he said. The circumstances became strange, so I ended up ‘escaping’ and returning to my previous life with minimal resistance. Luckily my instincts proved right, I later learned he was arrested for murder shortly after I left.

It was then that I began to paint using the Old Master oil techniques I had just learned. It was difficult and exciting, every painting being an adventure unto itself with unknown, only hypothesized results. To me, this was real art. It was then also that I began to see art itself as a field of study, not a vehicle for study. That was a very exciting epiphany to have and I remember it well.

 At the same time I was fond of woodburning art as well. Having done a few pieces on people’s hardwood floors of their homes, I also did a few large pieces on plywood. One of my woodburnings was featured at a gallery on Julia Street for the 2005 White Linen Night, which was another interesting experience. Afterwards I was preparing to do an entire art show of woodburnings that was to open the weekend after Hurricane Katrina hit. Most of the pieces were at the framer’s shop at the time and were destroyed by floodwaters. Luckily, the original survived and I sold it shortly after, never to see it again. I also postponed my study of art, sidetracked by survival.

Post-Katrina life moved me around a bit. Two years in San Diego followed by two years in Asheville, and eventually – like so many others – back to New Orleans, the haven for misfits. Architecture made it all possible. I love design, but continually found myself skeptical and reluctant to commit myself to a structured work-week in a permanent place. I would rather work constantly on my own thing, free to pursue my own interests at my own pace. Of course I had always felt that way, but with the perspective of life settling in, I became more and more impatient.

To me, the part of one’s brain that compels one to design and create flexes the same ‘muscle.’ That is, I have found that the energy that flows from your brain to your hands, that pushes the medium in the direction it needs to go, followed by the satisfaction that comes from completing your idea, is just that and exists in everything you do. As usual, I hear the call to adventure, and the music scene in New Orleans is like no other.

Playing guitar is no different to me than pushing paint around a canvas with a paintbrush. I was able to do it every day for a decade. I found myself onstage at many of New Orleans iconic music festivals and venues in many different iterations from Mardi Gras Indians to my own original music with my own original bands. I played nightly and toured all over the country. I wrote songs and created art constantly from album art to merchandise. We recorded albums and played our songs and I loved it.

One day we were in Tampa for our regular Florida tour down to Key West and back. My saxophone player and friend invited me to go see the Salvador Dali Museum with him that day. I’m glad I went. Of course I was as aware of Dali’s art as anyone who had studied design, but seeing it in real life was as inspiring as the Italian Renaissance. I saw Gala Dali lounging in a surreal landscape and was never the same again. I had never stopped to think of using Old Master techniques to create large mind-bending landscapes, but now I am. This was shortly before the end of that chapter of my music career.

If you’ve ever known anyone in a band you would know that bands turn friendships toxic. And when you find yourself lying awake at night, eaten alive with anxiety, you know it’s time to answer your next calling. Music had grown to the point that I feel I had explored more experiences than I would have ever dreamed, and to go further would mean becoming someone I wasn’t comfortable being. I had experienced the rush of the New Orleans music scene and will be forever grateful. Music had always been on my bucket list, and so I was satisfied.

Covid 19 made us all stop and think. Actually, it was just shortly before the shutdown that I had decided to retire from music. I had already returned to my family’s cabin in the 1000 Islands where I had plenty of time to think, heal and rejuvenate along with the rest of the world. I was back to where I had started from before this adventure. Before Architecture school, Rome, New Orleans, Katrina, two failed marriages, two original albums (one a double-record), cross-country motorcycle trips, moves and tours, etc. All along this way I have been creating art, usually secondary to my interests. For the first time in my life I feel a sigh of relief, and it itself is fascinating.

A Schrödinger’s Cat sense of peace has bestowed me: one outcome is just as acceptable as another. This was never a concept to me in my younger years in that there was always either a victory or a loss, and I carried a metaphysical weight as a result. Now I feel comfortable with who I am, and however things turn out will be perfectly acceptable to me. Now I paint my interests because I love to paint and I love my subjects of fascination. It’s who I have always been, and that’s just fine with me.