Stones

1997-2026

As a steady practice during and between periods of artistic productivity, I regularly return to drawing stones from memory. Throughout the past two decades, stones have appeared again and again in my work—drawn on paper, formed in clay, cast in bronze, and carved from wood. They are a primary material and enduring subject in my creative life, referencing the stones found along the rocky coast of Maine, where I grew up and where I continue to spend part of each year.

Shaped by the daily rise and fall of the tides, each stone is formed through constant movement across the coastal basin—its surface gradually smoothed through friction, salt, and time. These stones have long served as quiet muses for artists, bearing witness to centuries of encounter and return. I think of them as repositories of touch and memory, shaped not only by geological forces but by human presence.

My drawings are made intuitively, without direct observation of individual stones. Instead, they emerge from memory—shaped by a lifetime of collecting, exploring, and responding to the coast. They hold an accumulated imprint of place: the weight of a stone remembered in the hand, edges softened over time, and a familiarity shaped through repetition and return.

This body of work reflects my ongoing meditation on memory and repetition, and on the ability of time, tide, and lifecycle to soften even the hardest materials. The drawings function as a grounding practice within my broader body of work—an anchor that offers calm, continuity, and a deep sense of belonging rooted in home.