I sometimes fancy that my art will one day grow to enshrine my idealism.
I imagine that within those individuals that look upon my work, a flame will ignite in their very nucleus.
I pretend that that flame will inspire them to act out in their daily lives the kind of socio-politico-economic change that can end war, poverty and the miseries of living without spirit.

As I grow and learn, I visualize that my art will grow with me and find new ways to exist in the world, outside of traditional economies and help to form new networks that strengthen communities.

Now, all of that may or may not come to pass - but...

What my art actually is, is something different.

First of all, it is part of my own journey to act out in my daily life against the miseries of living without spirit.

Secondly, it is something I have little control over.

I make happy little people and creatures. They are always enjoying themselves and each other. They are rarely trying to send a message. They are simply engaged in doing the things they love: reading, making maps, being with others, eating, doing yoga, playing music, cooking, dancing, drinking coffee...

If they are not busy doing something, you can be sure they are planning something: thinking up a garden design, a story line or a way to solicit a hug from you.

My work is meditative in that when I sit to work: all pretense, imagery or wandering thoughts cease. My self-image, my grandiose ego, they are gone. I sit with my tools and my little blocks of colored clay and I mesh with it so deeply that there is no room to ponder about the dumb thing I said to so-and-so the other day or whether the event next week will turn out ok. I am just there with the clay, shaping it and cutting it and putting it together. My thinking is exclusively focused on the task at hand: is this form durable and balanced? The figures mostly build themselves. I am just there to do my best to make sure they enter the world ok.

I strive to let all the things I do in life come into the world as naturally as my artwork does.

When I see my finished work - I don't see an inspirational piece of idealistic propaganda - but instead I see a little friend or a whimsical adornment - things that delight my imagination and remind me of the boundless fascination of youth.

Perhaps a tiny reminder to imagine and play is a political statement after all?