All of the pieces that I produce begin as sheet metal and wire. The patterns that you see are inlays rather than surface applications. All objects are hollow constructions, fabricated with the use of simple hand tools and an acetylene torch. There is no lathe-work, no casting, no mass-production techniques of any kind.

The patterns on the pieces are the result of two different types of inlay. The first is known as marriage of metal, and results in a graphic image with crisp edges. Marriage of metal is done by precisely cutting different metals, using a jeweler's saw, and fitting them together like a jigsaw puzzle. All of the seams are flooded with silver solder, and the patterned sheet is then used in the construction of the object. Once the construction is completed, the surface is hand-filed and sanded so that the various metals create a smooth, uniform surface. If you were to cut one of these objects open, you would see the same pattern on the inside as you see on the outside.

The other type of inlay that I do doesn't really have a precise name. I call it hammered inlay. This process begins with a flat sheet of silver. I flood the sheet with silver solder and then arrange pieces of other alloys on the surface and re-flow the solder. The next steps involve repeated hammering and annealing until the applied alloy is finally imbedded into the sterling sheet. Once imbedded, I again use the patterned sheet to construct the object and then file, sand and finish the surface so that it's smooth and consistent.

While I may occasionally make a second or third version of a tabletop object, I never duplicate them. Most are true one-of-a-kind pieces. If I design a wearable item that is successful, I will produce anywhere from 6 to 50, until monotony pushes me on to the next design.
I have no assistants, no employees and do not send any components out to be done by someone else. With the exception of common jewelry findings, such as posts, clips, chains, etc., I use no commercially produced components.

The prices of the pieces reflect material costs, labor, vision and creativity, and the fact that it took many years of training and experience to develop the skills needed to create this work.

INSPIRATIONS, OPINIONS AND APPRECIATION

Creativity, and the forces that awaken and perpetuate it, are fragile things-the origins of which elude me. I have always loved antiques; been fascinated by the art and craft of ancient civilizations; been inspired by architecture; and have often found peace in the beauty of nature. I've been drawn to Scandanavian crafts, African textiles, Japanese graphics—but, most importantly, have let all of these influences inform my aesthetic sensibilities rather than become direct sources.

At times, my tabletop objects inspire my jewelry, and at times—the opposite. One of the wonderful aspects of making each piece myself is that, often, in the process of making, the objects grow away from the original vision.

Through out school, and into my first few years of juried shows, I assumed that, surely, everyone understood the value and importance of genuinely hand-made objects. I was shocked-horrified even—well, okay, somewhat disappointed-to discover that some people simply don't care how an object is made, or by whom, or whether by a machine or human hands. I, personally, have always believed that a one-of-a-kind object is inherently different from an object that exists in multiples. Not that it is 'better,' necessarily; simply that it is genuinely unique and consequently more 'precious.'

It is not always safe to assume, even at the finest art and craft shows, that the artist in the booth made each piece with his or her own hands, nor that there are not dozens more waiting to be put on display after you purchase yours. IF it matters to you, ask questions and listen carefully.

I am genuinely grateful to those of you who have appreciated and purchased my work over the years, and who recognize the importance and relevance of objects created by a craftsman's own hands.