In visual art it’s always about light—irrespective of the subject matter. Light itself is the primary creative and expressive medium of visual art. Whatever the intermediate medium, it is the medium of light that in the end all visual artists manipulate. My evolving art practice includes three frequently overlapping components, each deeply informed by an investigation into light, time, and entropic effects.

The first component centers primarily on natural light in the environment—photographic work that captures characteristic aspects of light representative of what I refer to as the “visual terroir” of a particular place. The second is based on the phenomenon of natural lensing and image formation, providing the starting point for both indoor and environmental installations utilizing “image-gathering” water lenses—fundamental bases for the very evolution of vision.

My third focus involves a highly distinct approach to found object assemblage and sculpture. Here, my method is deliberately sparing in the use of objects, similar to the haiku poet’s very limited use of words, syllables, and lines. I strive to create a work that is visually evocative using a minimum of visual elements. This constraint requires an extended, patient studio process. Elements are often collected over years, living in corners of the studio until brought together for spontaneous visual conversation. Manipulating positive and negative spaces in three dimensions, I iteratively introduce objects to one another, allowing them to determine the direction of dialogue. It is an unpredictable form of play, a reductive process in which most elements are eventually discarded and a level of visual eloquence emerges.

From my earliest such efforts, I found that titles are not just important; they are essential to grounding the imagery of each work. Dealing with themes of nature, time, and human existence, each piece exists in limbo until that essential title is added. The title forms the conclusive “third line” of what I consider to be a “visual haiku.” It does not merely describe the work. It completes the work. These pieces are often metaphoric, sometimes surrealistic, occasionally humorous. For the gallery observer, a “haiku moment” of insight occurs once the title has been read and fully integrated with an otherwise incomplete assemblage of physical objects.