For my Dad. A vagabond at heart who gave up his wanderings to be home with his wife and four daughters. While he continued limited travel for business, I know there was many a trip that was not taken. He was full of grand stories and exaggerated accounts of sailing the high seas and what he would encounter in foreign ports. There is a poem that he would often quote, "Vagabond House" by Don Blandings, and a sign "Vagabond House" hung over the doorway of his workshop and refuge. There in his Vagabond House he would load up a pipe with Borkum Riff tobacco, sip a martini, and create assemblages with items he had collected on his worldly travels and in his backyard. He used what was readily at hand and allowed time and the space around him help his art to take shape This flow is what I aspire to.
Finding inspiration in the animal and plant life around me.
Learning age old techniques used by different cultures around the globe now and in ancient times.