Self-Portrait, ca. 1961.  Copper, ca. 6" x 5".

An art project done in school in around 5th grade.  By then the art teacher had shown us correct proportions of the head and face (e.g., that the eyes are at about mid-level, not higher up as most kids see them and draw them), but either we hadn't gotten to the proportions of the neck, or my mind was wandering.  Thus the stovepipe neck.  However, I'm sure that the background details were taken from life, as accurately as I was able to do:  the table and table lamp of our "den", and the painting on the wall of people skiing, are not my inventions.  Even the tiny junction box for the telephone line, on the baseboard under the table.

Still Life with Iron and Teapot, ca. 1961.  Charcoal on paper, ca. 12" x 16".

This also was a school assignment.  The proportions here are not well rendered, but the details of the objects are shown with attention.  Much later, when I took some art classes in college in which we drew from life (usually a nude model), I noticed that I had little talent for drawing a graceful line, but that my powers of observation were strong.

Texture Collage, ca. 1963.   Magazine clippings on board, ca. 12" x 18".

From an early age I was fascinated by science, and by the textures and structures seen in scientific photos and illustrations.  So this collage was self-motivating.  To me it seems almost like something you might see on a trip underground, or through a microscope studying crystals and minerals.

Pattern Study, 1973.  Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, ca. 7" x 10".

I was trying to suggest the patterns of so-called "eyelid movies" by working on graph paper.  This one is slightly cropped to exclude the stained areas at the edges that came from using rubber cement to mount the drawing on a board.

Pattern Study, 1973. Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, ca. 7" x 10".

I was trying to suggest the patterns of so-called "eyelid movies" by working on graph paper.  This one is considerably cropped to exclude the stained areas at the edges that resulted from the rubber cement I used to mount the drawing on a board.

Pattern Study, 1973. Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, ca. 8" x 10".

I was trying to suggest the patterns of so-called "eyelid movies" by working on graph paper.  This one is uncropped, and shows the stained areas at the edges that resulted from the rubber cement I used to mount the drawing on a board.  In my early days I knew nothing about archival quality in works of art, how certain chemicals could be very damaging, or how permanent some materials are compared to others.  Felt-tipped pens are generally very impermanent; the drawings can fade a lot in time, especially if exposed to sunlight.

Squiggles, 1973. Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, ca. 6" x 11".

I wanted to create patterns of flow across the "pictorial surface", an unfortunately snobby term.  But since then I've tried to impart a sense of flow to certain still-life photographs.  This crude drawing is slightly cropped to exclude the stained areas at the edges that came from using rubber cement to mount the drawing on a board.

Heart Plant, 1973.  Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, 9 1/2" x 6 1/2".

A simple representation of a simple plant whose leaves grow from the stem and resemble hearts.  This drawing has been a favorite for some time - I kept it in a mat and frame on the wall, and so it suffered the fate of considerable fading due to exposure to light.

Snowy Forest Floor, 1973.  Felt-tipped pen on graph paper, ca. 7" x 10".

A representation of the surface of the thin coating of snow in a forest, the way that tiny objects fall from the surrounding trees and collect on the snow.  The transparency of this light layer of snow is suggested by the faint green glow of the grass underneath, drawn on the back of this thin sheet of paper.  Based on an actual observation made while taking a walk in the woods during a ski trip.  I remember seeing a tiny red spider - his body the size of a pencil point - climb out of an empty air-bubble hole in the snow, traverse a foot or more of snow, then disappear into another little hole.  Meanwhile, several apparently curious sparrows had gathered around me in the trees, hardly further than arm's length, and chirped.  I felt as exalted as Saint Francis!  Way better than skiing.

Fiery Landscape, ca. 1975.  Felt-tipped pen on post card, 3 1/2" x 5".

At the time I admired very much two artists in particular for their approach to representation, Vincent van Gogh and Charles Burchfield, both of who seemed to show the intense energy in what they saw, especially in the world of nature.  Things seemed to be practically on fire.

Desk Still Life, ca. 1975.  Felt-tipped pen on paper, 8" x 10".

Just an accumulation of things on my desk - slide boxes, the cup from a thermos bottle, a harmonica, the edge of my typewriter.  In the background, a postcard of one of van Gogh's self-portraits.

Poor Woman, ca. 1973.  Woodblock print on paper, ca. 12" x 10".

Here I was inspired by the style of Käthe Kollwitz, who depicted the lives of the poor and oppressed, usually working in woodblock relief printing.  In the back of my mind, when I made this, I was thinking of my mother.

Untitled, ca. 1974.  Pastel on paper, ca. 11" x 14".

Paul Klee was another big favorite of mine back then.  He once described drawing as "taking a line for a walk".  I liked his cheerful spirit, and he wasn't too difficult to imitate.

Untitled, ca. 1974.  Pastel on paper, ca. 16" x 20".

Another pastel drawing in the style (hopefully) of Paul Klee.

Floating Sea Life, ca. 1975.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 18" x 14".

Coming from my interest in biomorphic shape.  Painted in acrylic, thinned with clear medium to attain transparency.  Around this time I had also discovered the drawings of Ernst Haeckel, who studied and drew all sorts of life forms down to the microscopic.  His book was called Kunstformen der Natur, or Art Forms in Nature.  His influence is especially strong in my work in graphic arts - etching, block printing, and inkless embossment.

Untitled (Waves), ca. 1990.  Watercolor on paper.

Suggesting water, or waves generally.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 7" x 7".

A sketch or study for a mandala, using at one point a wet-on-wet technique to allow the color to bleed into the surrounding area.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic and modeling paste on board, ca. 7" x 7".

A study for a mandala, using modeling paste - a compound of marble powder and acrylic medium - to create a textured surface, incised while still wet with a compass, then painted over when dry with acrylic colors.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic and modeling paste on board, ca. 7" x 7".

A study for a mandala, using modeling paste (a compound of marble powder and acrylic medium) to create a textured surface, incised while still wet with a compass, and then, when dry, painted over with acrylic colors.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 7" x 7".

A study for a mandala, using a gradual progression of colors from rust-brown to yellow ochre.  More or less the same idea as with my "Mandala of 10,000 Petals", which is all in gray.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 6" x 6".

A study for a mandala,

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 14" x 14".

A mandala painted on a textured base, using acrylic paint thinned for transparency.  The rounded triangle was drawn with the aid of a compass.  (Contrary to popular belief about the circle being the only shape with a uniform diameter, it's also true of this sort of triangle.  The principle is exploited in engineering applications, such as with certain automotive pistons.)

Untitled, ca, 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 6" x 6".

A study using acrylic paint thinned for transparency.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 6" x 6".

A study for a mandala.

Untitled, ca 1976.  Oil crayon on board, ca. 6" x 6".

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 24" x 24".

Made by applying a thick layer of acrylic modeling paste to the canvas, creating an overall texture, and then incising the lines with a large and a small compass while the material was still wet.  A small piece of wood was first glued to the back of the canvas to support the point of the compass.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 24" x 24".

I applied a layer of acrylic modeling paste with red acrylic paint to the canvas, and then incising the lines with a large and a small compass while the material was still wet.  A small piece of wood was first attached to the back of the canvas to support the point of the compass.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 24" x 24".

I applied a thick layer of orange acrylic paint to the canvas (with a retardant to allow me time to work), and then incising the lines with a large compass while the material was still workable.  I first glued a small piece of wood to the back of the canvas to anchor the point of the compass.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 12" x 12".

Working on canvas temporarily mounted on a board, I applied first a dark green background color.  Then, a layer of lighter olive drab on top, incised while still wet with a compass.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 12" x 12".

With a sheet of canvas temporarily mounted on a board, I applied first a red background color.  Then, a layer of deep red on top, incised with a compass while still wet .

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Acrylic on board, ca. 10" x 10".

Working on canvas mounted on a board, I applied a textured surface made of modeling paste and acrylic medium. While it was still wet, I incised many concentric circles with a compass, an dhen overpainted wit h acrylic paint.

Untitled, ca. 1979.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 16" x 20".

A textural abstraction made by creating a wrinkled texture on the canvas, then overpainting with thinned acrylic paint to achieve transparency.

Untitled, 1979.  Acrylic on canvas, ca. 10" x 16".

A textural abstraction made by creating a wrinkled texture on the canvas, then overpainting with thinned acrylic paint to achieve transparency.

Mandala, ca. 1976.  Photographic prints mounted on board, ca. 20" x 20".

Using a photograph of snow on the branches of a bush, I made this mandala by printing the image four times in the normal position and four times flipped over to obtain the mirror image, then cutting the prints in sections of 45° and mounting them together.

Ajna Eye Logo, 2024.  Acrylic paint on black fabric, ca. 3" x 5".

Using the logo I have used for years.  Besides painting this on the black velveteen pouch for my portable CD player (so I can see it easily in the car), I've painted this on a t-shirt.

Weather Underground Logo, 2024. Acrylic paint on black fabric, ca. 3" x 6".

The logo of the Weather Underground, the radical organization, which combines a rainbow with a thunderbolt.  I would love to know the story of how the idea for this logo or symbol came to one or more of the group.  I'm sure it was quite an inspiration.  I wrote to Zayd Ayers Dohrn, journalist who produced an excellent podcast about the WU, "Mother Country Radicals" (and son of Bernardine Dohrn and Bill Ayers), to ask about this, but I haven't had an answer.  (It may not be a coincidence that it resembles the Webelos symbol of the Boy Scouts.)  I've painted this on a t-shirt as well, confident that hardly anybody knows any more what it means.  (I'll just say it's from the Boy Scouts.)

Presidential Portrait, ca. 2019.  Mop, toilet paper, toilet paper roll, towel, ca. 30" x 12".

In my old house, we were in the habit of stashing a couple of reserve rolls of toilet paper in a gap in the radiator, and also of leaning our damp mop on top so it would dry out.  I was sitting there one day when I saw that little more was required to create a portrait of President Donald Hump.  I folded a towel folded in the shape of a necktie, then took the empty core from a roll of TP and  jammed it into the radiator, leaving a nice round (and characteristic) opening for the presidential mouth.  I took a photo, and then, in Photoshop, gave the mop the golden-blonde color it needed.  Very functional for the location opposite the toilet.  Those who have seen the film "Lincoln" (with Daniel Day-Lewis) may remember the joke when the US ambassador to Britain reports that when he had to relieve himself at a British home, he was surprised to see on the wall of the loo a portrait of George Washington.  When he mentioned this to his host, it was explained that there was nothing better than the face of George Washington to make an Englishman shit!