How does light move through stone? I try to push past stone's identity as gravity-bound. Can flight or movement be suggested? Can architectural forms be invested with living skin and bone? I am currently working on a large arcing skeleton of steel, like the frame of a house or ship, on it, carved stone suggesting rectilinear muscles, and the feather and tissue which hint at the pull toward flight.

I'm intrigued by the ways in which human art, architecture, and design resonate with natural influences. One of my favorite resources is a very old Douglas Fir living on the land I occupy. When I lie on the ground and look up, it provides infinite intersections of line. Light presses in as its own entity. We don't say, "that branch is in the wrong place." The tree prompts me to ask myself, how can I achieve that integrity and excitement in my art?

The structures we live in, move around in, and have built seem loaded with metaphors. A house or building can represent our moods. The positions of doors, windows, and rooms may represent our relationships with each other. A stairway or a door could be an invitation.

A broken tower might be a story of war or an unknown future. A fantastic shape may suggest freedom and future potential. Architectural forms turn on all the human memories of structures in stone and the experiences that go with them - ritual, awe, and worship. I hope to hint at all this and more. I hope to engage people in stories that they will want to tell. I try to keep the 'stoniness' of stone in my work.

The broken faces and rough edges remind us where they came from millions of years ago. (the basalt I use is 5 million years old). At the same time the stones move forward into the future with new story telling.