I graduated from Middlebury College in 1961, a biology major. I trained as a children’s librarian in Boston and was a reference librarian at Northfield Mount Hermon School for 26 years.

Teaching myself to become an artist, both psychologically and visually, was my salvation.

I exhibited at the NMH school gallery, the Greensboro Vt. Public Library, the Brattleboro Public Library, Three Rivers gallery in Bellows Falls, and  for several years, at the Green Trees Gallery in Northfield, Mass.
Two of my drawings were accepted in nationally juried shows.


I never knew I had an artistic tradition until an artist friend said to me, “You draw like the German expressionists.”  I had never heard of them. In my early thirties I was but a doodler, unfocused and uncommitted.  I thought real art was about the ideal beauty of the Greeks,  the colorful worlds of the French impressionists, and of course,  Picasso and VanGogh.  They all seemed  wondrous but alien to my nascent intentions.

“Find work by Kirchner, Kokoschka, Beckmann,” my friend urged,  “you will find your tradition.”

Suddenly I had the possibility of a context.  Mentors. Challengers.  Artists possessed by the human dilemma and making strong statements about how they felt about our struggles to survive in a treacherous world.

I already knew what I wanted to draw.   It is best stated by Rilke;    “...a head can become a pretext for certain deeply personal confessions...just as a landscape...a distinctive face, with its hidden depths and hidden intimacies and its alternating disclosures and concealments, is certainly not more confining a space that an ocean mood or a forest motif.”


Now I  understood that  I was hardly alone in trying to express  my own feelings about how people endure the trials of their existence.  The mind of man is infinite in its mysteries and in its poignant demand to be known and nourished.

Drawing is touching.  It is a commitment to being present.
I draw almost exclusively with a 9B pencil because it allow me depth, range, and spontaniety.


I began making woodcuts in the traditional way , but soon realized that they did not express what I felt. Now I enjoy the process of creation while acknowledging my anxiety about the ever-changing nature of both our minds and the physical universe. I still cut woodblocks but I use oil paints and turpentine or acrylic and water. The result is always a surprise. Sometimes I use collage to enhance the image.

Price range:  $150.ºº - $300.ºº.