Green Men
A recurring motif in my work is the chalice—formed of sunlight, seawater, and leaves, sometimes encrusted with jewels. In Green Men, the goblet becomes a container for being itself and suggests a primal connection to plant-based consciousness—one that depends on chlorophyll rather than blood. The stacked architectural elements within the tableau symbolize the human figure in the narrative, proposing columns as living bodies and bodies as vessels for spirit. The Japanese word komorebi describes the dappled green light that filters through leaves and plays across the forest floor. This inspires me: I seek to catch and hold that green light, by way of celebrating the renewal of life this spring.
My process employs lost-wax casting, a Bronze Age technique capable of preserving detail as intimate as fingerprints. Forms are first modeled in wax, then cast in glass. I am a fourth-generation participant in the Studio Glass movement, shaped by artists such as Harvey Littleton and Dale Chihuly, who made it possible for artists to work with glass in their own studios—transforming it from an industrial material into a medium of personal expression.
In response to the rise of fascism and global instability, I turn inward to a sustained studio practice centered on cast glass sculpture. This is my form of resistance: a deliberate act that prioritizes reflection, empathy, and continuity. The work is informed by art historical research; the architecture and interiors of Providence’s Lippitt House provide inspiration. Its Victorian Golden Age ornamentation and craftsmanship are a framework for understanding material as a carrier of cultural values and social intention.
