I live in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains at the edge of Silicon Valley.  I grew up in suburban Detroit and was fortunate to catch the wave of young executives living in the Philippines and Hong Kong at the end of the 80s. In the later 90s I was part of the first wave in globalizing the Internet. Afterwhich, I became a Waldorf Teacher, taught first and second grade, and then middle school ceramics.  I am a husband, father, and explorer.

 

My grandfather would draw human torsos on top of animal bodies for my mother and her sister.  He was a painter—of houses.  My Mom loved art.  She made elaborate paper dolls in her youth. She volunteered at the annual art festival in our small town.  She bought pieces she liked and moved them around our house.  She took painting classes and later a sculpture class.  She always wanted to do more than she was able to will herself to do.  She finished a dozen oil portraits and clay sculptures:  The Amish farm boy holding his Guinea pig, the girl with long hair in a field of daisies, me in my patriotic tank-top at 12 or 13 playing with Harvey, our first pug puppy, the bust of a native American girl in braids looking to the sky.  She also wrote several beautiful poems upon my fathers young passing.

 

I remember fondly the creations of my youth: the ink-dot drawing of my battered shoe, the steel snow flake pin with epoxy inlay, the coil pot with earthy glaze. They all ended up in a shoe box.  The time between 14 and almost 40 shifted between survival and doing what I thought I should be doing.  There were certainly many moments of wonderful creation and exploration but little in the way of my own expression.

 

My art is now a way back to that. Of reclaiming the tactile pleasures of childhood as well as the engagement of a fuller sense of myself: Of my spirit and soul and the interplay with the world I live in. Of the beauty that surrounds me and that which I can tap into.  That I can move from the inside, out into the world of form in a way that is meaningful to me and can translate that to others as well.  That is able to expose and share a part of me that is real and evolving. Such is the journey and the process.

 

My hope is that everyone can see the beauty in their

lives and that I can continue to find it in mine.

 

                             -- Randy