First, I have to say I am a very lucky man. Born in three privileged classes; white, male and American, I have never had the struggles of the vast majority of people. Brought up by a single mom and never well-off even by the standards of my economically-depressed home town, I have never pursued money very hard either. And although I have yet to marry, I have been blessed by the inspiration and teachings of worthy and beautiful women throughout my life. It started with my mother, who taught me to be tolerant and compassionate for those born less fortunate. These and a life-long love of learning are pearls beyond price. 

I was born in the elm-shaded city of Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, where water flows from Lake Superior to the lower lakes. Our riches were books from the attic and the Carnegie Public Library. Illustrations by N.C. Wyeth and Howard Pyle won me to chivalric romance, swordplay and art. We also swam in the rich local history. On rare holidays we’d make pulp-log rafts on the river and sleep in an old loggers’ bunkhouse.
I listened to 78 rpm symphonies, played with lath swords, and imitated Walt Disney with cartoons starring my teddy bear. I studied the old masters in print catalogs until the “Art Train” came to town with real Canalettos, Claude-Lorrains, and a Turner. I decided to be a painter. Seeing my passion, my mother bought my first oils when I was 15. Like my siblings, I also studied journalism taught by an amazing mentor and worked four years on the high-school paper.   

But then things went downhill. Our industries closed; our five thousand elms died, jobs vanished and our beautiful city shrank to a tourist town. Viet Nam happened; those who couldn’t go to college would be drafted. Accepted by five universities, I couldn’t afford any. 
But wait! At the very last minute, the new Michigan Higher Ed scholarships appeared. Full tuition for four years. By living at home and borrowing I could just afford the local two-year branch of Michigan Tech. With 1200 guys to 110 girls you could forget about dates, but I didn’t think I was in the running anyway. I had a great time. Free-lance art paid for books. With the yearbook I learned photography darkroom skills.
The professors became my friends and allies as I re-invented the the college paper, taught the journalism course and got the University of Michigan journalism scholarship I had dreamed of.
I walked on air for a semester. I was actually going to U-M. But my foolish pride cut off the happy ending; I flunked out.
I was mortified as never before or since. My sisters had both graduated from that same program; they were why I got the scholarship. But when I applied for a menial summer job at the Ann Arbor News, they offered me redemption: an internship with seniority preserved while in the service; plus they’d get me back into j-school! I choked back anger and walked out: my sisters’ degrees hadn’t gotten them any offer at the News.

My professors liked me, but my savings and the GI Bill weren’t enough to finish my BFA. It was May 1974. My world wasn’t rocked: the Coast Guard had built my confidence. Resolving to work in art, no matter the level, I got hired as Editorial Assistant at Pierian Press. By 1975 I was Advertising Manager, with a print shop on the premises. When they laid off the staff in 1976 I was immediately hired by a book manufacturer, then an ad agency, then in 1978 by Typographic Insight, the top typesetter in town. In 1979 co-owner Larry Bell had me illustrate covers for automotive clients Dana, Monroe and GM. Within a year, we became TI Group, producing design, illustration, photography and writing for print media. It was a dream job, developing all my favorite skills. I became Creative Director, hiring artists who did have BFAs. Once they were on board, I needed to develop the skill of supervising them. In this I failed.

I also diverted much energy into avocations that did nothing for my career. I fenced hard, competed regionally and co-founded the Ann Arbor Sword Club. I took my photography passion to Scotland. But the big side-trip was joining the Society for Creative Anachronism, a medievalist fantasy group where I did manuscript illumination, fought in armor and played leader. I sometimes logged 28 hours a week there while also working 14-hour days. I eventually became a medieval scholar, giving papers and getting published.
Meanwhile, back at the agency, by 1987 my dream job evaporated; Larry moved west and sold out; I had to go free-lance. Things  stayed tough for ten years. Among other things, I edited snowmobiling and offroad bike magazines, never having touched either vehicle. By 2000 I had part-time in-house graphic design jobs with both Electro Arc and Thetford. In 2008 I bought a nice house in a great neighborhood.

In 2012, when my work life got really slow, I tried painting full time. Doing five shows a year including the big Ann Arbor fair for five years, I neither painted nor sold as many paintings as I had hoped. I put a lot of time into each one. Too much of a perfectionist to sell cheap, not well enough known to get commensurate prices.
In 2017, I stepped away to re-evaluate everything. Turns out I’m not the “art-fair” type of artist. Now, mid-2019, with a different outlook, I'm ready to paint again.
This has been more about the past than my painting philosophy. Click below for that.