From the beginning of my career as a metal artist in 1989, I had the clear and tenacious intention of having my work be a direct outcome and expression of my life experience, where life and work were not in two separate worlds. I wanted to love what I do, to have my work be a developmental experience and a forum for growth and expansion for all involved. In this culture such a notion is often seen as naïve, and indeed some naivety is required. The work I have done and the relationships and business around it have certainly comprised a rich and growth-oriented journey. At times I would say that the whole thing is a dream come true and at other times I would say ‘don’t try this at home or anywhere else’. No matter how much experience or schooling or knowledge one has, most of what is needed has to be discovered or invented along the way. And I would not have it any other way. The studio is a laboratory, a workshop and a factory. It is a place to learn and teach and to refine and deepen the sacred act of making something with ones’ own hands. It is amazing and empowering to make something out of steel that ‘works’ aesthetically, functionally and in its’ craftsmanship. The studio itself is part of the work; it is a constantly changing work in progress. My collection of metal and other ‘magic’ objects (‘magic’ being in the mind of the beholder) is part and parcel of the studio atmosphere. I have been greatly enriched by viewing, studying and hearing the work of other creative people. I felt early on that I wanted to add to the ‘soup’ of this long and rich lineage. It is not a matter of feeling qualified to add my part; it is a matter of not accepting that I am not qualified. Much of the art and music that I most admire, upon some investigation, sprung from this sensibility; from a place of receptivity. This is where the underground reservoir can be accessed. It is sometimes difficult to maintain this state of mind. But if the internal fire is burning, we don’t have much of a choice.