I was raised in a small New England town. During King Phillips War in 1675, the town was raided, citizens killed, and hostages were taken by Chief Metacom. The town’s fifth meeting house, built in 1816, was designed by Charles Bullfinch. Bullfinch was the architect who redesigned the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C., after the war of 1812. The bell in the fifth meeting house, was made by Paul Revere and Sons.

 

In 1843 Bronson Alcott attempted his Transcendentalist utopia, Fruitlands; a mere five miles away from my childhood home. Johnny Appleseed and Luther Burbank were born in my town. Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Pond was twenty-four miles away. Individuals such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Hedge, and Samuel Longfellow wrote of the inherent goodness of people, and nature. Thoreau made me recognize the importance of solitude, self-sufficiency, self-interrogation, and spiritual growth. Ironically, the society where I lived contrasted greatly compared to my philosophical and spiritual upbringing.

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I started to question the world around me. As a teenager, I travelled to Rosebud, Pine Ridge, and Wounded Knee, South Dakota. I also visited Crow Agency, Montana. I realized lessons learned in history books, may not convey reality when one stands at the locations where history occurred. Understanding there was a wider world to investigate, and different lifestyles elsewhere, I sought change. New England started to appear provincial, small; even lost. A great foundation and experimentation in philosophical thought had been slowly consumed by cities, suburbs, deadlines, and commutes. In 1990, I moved to Alaska.

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Emerson and Thoreau’s writings became clearer to me as I lived in wilderness north of the Wrangell St-Elias National Park without electricity, running water, or TV. One summer while working in Cordova, a visiting Kentucky artist, Gary Lopiccolo, introduced me to carving stone. One night, after breaking a piece of stone while carving, I frustratingly said, “I think I should give up pursuing art.” In response, Gary said, “You are the best welder I have seen, why don’t you try making welded sculpture?” The answer was obvious! However, I didn’t see a path at that time. It was three years later, in 1995, that I struck an arc to fabricate my first welded sculpture.

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From 1996-2001 I was an Associate Professor of Welding and Nondestructive Testing at the University of Alaska Anchorage. This allowed me to expand, practice, and experiment creating large, welded sculpture. Chip Williams, Associate Professor of Sculpture in the UAA Art Department, was influential in encouraging me to explore my potential as an artist. My experience as a certified welder, in four different welding processes, was finally being used for creative endeavors!

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I have two degrees related to welding and nondestructive testing. I am an internationally peer-reviewed expert in welding, materials, and nondestructive testing. This technical background, similar to Alexander Calder’s, has allowed me to work with a variety of exotic materials. These include copper, aluminum, bronze, titanium, Inconel, stainless steel, and duplex stainless steels. The impeccable welding and construction of my sculptures emphasize the symbolism and the sculptural elements. I want the viewer enjoy form and flow, without being distracted by poor construction and execution.

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In 2006 I staked thirty acres outside of Chicken, Alaska. The property had been burned by a large fire in 2004. We have planted over 1200 trees to enhance esthetics. We have constructed a log cabin and are clearing dead trees to convert the land into a sculpture park. Me and my wife, an author, create and live in our off-grid location. Bifrost Sculpture Park is named from Norse mythology. Bifrost is the start of the Rainbow Bridge that connects Midgard, the land of the people, to Asgard, the land of the Gods.

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My sculptures convey motion and lightness with materials commonly associated with industry and formidable, immovable, masses. Fire, water, flowing curves, repetition, and tension are re-occurring themes in my art. My execution and quality of construction becomes an art form in itself. Eye-flow through my sculptures emphasize the elements and their interaction with each other. As with Emerson or Thoreau, I want my sculptures to invoke a quiet, introspective investigation of ourselves, nature, and the universe.

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In 1987 I was honorarily adopted and gifted the name, “Silver Otter” from Chief Red Dawn, a Santee Sioux Chief. I frequently sign my works, “Silver Otter,” in Red Dawn's honor.