I grew up primarily in the South. The Deep South. Alabama, red clay country. I don't have red clay bones, though. I'm a bit of a free spirit. I sometimes wear Seersucker for fun. My grandparents and parents were city folks. Yankees. White Bread, music and art lovers. I guess that might be where some of my peculiar ways come from. Ways including my overwhelming need to create, my all-encompassing desire to make things from old and from new. Beautiful or ugly, I like to put things together and tear them apart. I collage, paint, print, sculpt, deconstruct, and assemble. I pour things on, and scrape things off and at the end of the day I'm tired, from thinking about it all if from nothing else. Maybe I make things just to give them a place. Maybe because I never really knew where I belonged; I never really felt that I had a place. If and when tomorrow comes, I'll be thinking again, about the same sort of things. I'll get out the glue, hammer, and screws, the paint, paper, and wood and I'll be off on another quest for place and meaning. I'll be making a lot of noise, and a great big mess and maybe, just maybe, it'll all come together: Art from the Void.