I was raised to think that drawings of sculpture didn't necessarily show the entire picture. I opted to build terra-cottas. When hospitalized for back surgery my wife brought clay to the hospital while I was in traction. I can only imagine what the nurses thought…… I saw the continued value in doing this. When visiting other artists I was always struck by the smaller models on the mantle. Rodin, Daumier and so many others, convinced me. The beauty of that hand measured work--that small piece, that fragment, which could be carried in your pocket, while other things called me, mesmerized me. It still does. Turning off that inane chatter of fools, to concentrate on the real, that’s essential, that’s important and beautiful. The little Greek terra-cottas still bring me to tears. An ostracon called me to Athens; a small clay shard made me travel around the world....clay, and terra-cottas may be that thing which are essential and last longer than everything else.
I make a sketch of just about everything it seems. It seems worthwhile as an inheritance from Rodin. I must be in love, or insane (Is there a difference?) as I long ago lost all sense of proportion with actions. I lavish as much time, care and concern on these small bits of mud as on a large bronze. Friends, Caroline and Frank, collectors of the small terra-cottas, (thank God!) may be the smartest of all to cherish these delicate offspring. My world is populated by these clay forms of torsos, figures, heads, legs, hands… too many to photograph, but having the same continued presence as the "Children of Zeus."
