40 x 30, encaustic on cradled wood panel, 2023
encaustic on wood, 2023
Encaustic mixed media. 5x5.5. 2022. SOLD
Encaustic on cradled panel, 8”x8”, black float framed, 2021. SOLD
Encaustic on cradled panel, 6”x6”, 2020. SOLD
Encaustic on cradled panel, 6”x6”, 2020. SOLD
Oil on encaustic. SOLD
Encaustic and oil on wood, 12”x12”, framed black with gold, 2020. SOLD
Encaustic with collage on panel, 30" x 30", 2016.
Encaustic with photo transfer on wood, 5” x 6”, 2018. SOLD
Encaustic and collage on panel, 30" x 40", 2016.
Encaustic on wood. 5” x 6”, 2018. SOLD
Encaustic and alcohol ink on panel, 24" x 24", 2016
Encaustic and alcohol ink on panel, 24" x 24", 2016.
Encaustic mixed-media on panel, 30" x 30", 2016.
Encaustic with alcohol ink on panel, 24" x 24", 2016.
Encaustic mixed media with alcohol ink on panel, 24" x 24", 2016.
Encaustic with alcohol ink on panel, 6" x 6", 2016, SOLD.
1/10, 8.8" x 22", screenprint on railroad board, 2016
In 2016, as in 1933, the excuse for Otherness is a worsening economy for those left behind. For my friends, left behind, who excuse or overlook acts of Otherness, I understand where you’re coming from. But, for me, Otherness is too dangerous to sit by and let it happen.
And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do
- The Beatles
1/20, 12" x 16", screenprint on railroad board, 2016
Time rolls over in a daily cycle of light to dark, and, for a time each day, in spring, I’ll see two sandpipers wading the shore of the pond out my back door. If I stay still by the window, I might see them come up to check out what has fallen from the chokecherry by the faux stone patio, the wind ruffling the white feathers on their fat bellies. The window is closed. Opening the window or the back door would scare them away. I wish they would stay.
limited edition (10), reductive woodcut, 15"x16", 2016
In 2016, I turn seventy. Seven times ten. According to Scripture and ancient cultures, seven is the heavenly number, the number that means "many." And ten is the countable number, the one where I don't need to pull off my shoes to count. So, seventy is many, yet still countable. And I will count it as being of some account. Beyond this, I reckon, I must fade into the universal future, an older self that illuminates the past child within.
1/15, 14" x 14", screenprint on railroad board, 2017
We were in the Path of Totality at 5000 feet above sea level, when, at 11:27:27, a dome of dark fell over us like an upended enameled bowl, metallic, like steel in winter. At the rim of the bowl in the far distance shone a bright glow of landscape. The day was over there, here a strange dark with only Venus glaring. I couldn’t stop shouting.
monoprint, 10" x 8 ", 2015
The spring bird makes his early appearance along the lake behind our home. Soon the hills will green brilliantly, a moment before summer softens them to neutral hues. I will miss the spring bird before he is gone.
1/1, 5" x 5", gel print, 2017
Collage on paper with pastel and charcoal. 40" x 30". SOLD.
Collaged paper with transferred images. SOLD.
Collaged birds on sheet music.
Collaged birds on sheet music.
Collaged magazine images onto paper. 11" x 15". 75.00.
Collaged paper on hardboard. 24" x 50". The Fowler House in the Central Addition, Boise. Donated to Preservation Idaho. SOLD at auction.
oil pastel on paper, 3” x 8”
oil pastel on paper, 3” x 7.5”
