For me, art is the process and not the finished product. And, ideally, the process of sculpting is being in the moment, letting the hands yield completely to the creative force of the instant, free of interference from intent which impoverishes the moment with a clinging memory, or fantasy of future. That is not to suggest that every moment sculpting I am in this present moment. Not at all. For when unleashed, the creative energies pass through a prism of experienced longings and trials, sometimes stirring up emotional eddies that cause me to grab on to a vision of the mind and not of the eye.

In letting go of what my mind wants, the eye and hand renew their mysterious bond, creating something I have never seen before. When I marvel at this happening, I have faith to let go again, and again: time dissolves in form and texture.

At some point, the creative forces are spent. The rush of awe is caught, feelings given form. The evidence of this communion is the sculpture itself. And just as the moon reflects the sun’s light through space, the sculpture reflects that creative force through time, waking the eye with the original burst of “aha!”