I was trained as an artist. Well—as a metalsmith, a craftsman in the tradition of American Craft. When I think about Craft, I often think “abiding respect for workmanship and mastery.” And not without reason—in school, crits were often as much about the how of something as they were the why. In the metals studio, you couldn’t get away with sloppy making. We were told again and again that one must never put anything into the world that wasn’t soundly, if not perfectly, made.

So that’s my foundation. And I for sure still hold an abiding respect for workmanship and mastery. I would struggle if I had to make something carelessly. At the same time, I enjoy having certain looseness in my work, and can feel hemmed by even the thought of precision for the sake of precision. Some things require it; most don’t. At least, most of what I make doesn’t (please don’t ask me to prong set your diamond).

I am interested in materials. I am interested in process. I am interested in place, and how we go about making sense of it. For me, I find meaning in my immediate environment, which is currently a port city and happens to overlap with the fishing industry in the Pacific Northwest.

My favorite tools are my camera, my pencils, my jeweler’s saw, and a small selection of hand tools that have followed me around for a few decades.

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