My Story
For more than forty years, I worked in advertising and design. Along the way, I learned that every memorable brand begins with a meaningful story that people connect with. I never imagined that lesson would eventually help me understand my own artwork.
I grew up in Algonac, Michigan, where the ordinary objects of childhood—toy robots, fishing tackle, candy, minibikes, marbles, bicycles, and skateboards—were simply part of everyday life. Years later, I began drawing many of those same objects through a slow, meditative process where every detail matters.
Something unexpected happened. People rarely talked about the drawings first. Instead, they shared their own memories.
"I had one of those."
"My brother got one for Christmas."
“I haven't thought about that in decades."
That's when I realized the drawings weren't really about the objects. They were about what the objects remembered for us.
Over time, that discovery evolved into what I now call American Material Memory—the idea that everyday manufactured objects quietly preserve the stories of ordinary American life. Long after the objects themselves disappear, they continue to hold memories of childhood, family, friendship, adventure, and growing up. My drawings simply give those memories a way back into the present.
Today, realism isn't my destination; it's my language. Every reflection, worn edge, faded label, scratch, and imperfection is rendered with extraordinary care—not to celebrate the object itself, but to honor the life it quietly witnessed.
Every drawing begins as an object and ends as someone's story.
Because ordinary things matter.
Because ordinary lives matter.
