In the summer of 1993, my father pulled me out of my boy scout meeting. “Get in the car. We’re going to see Jurassic Park.” With those words, the direction of my life changed. Always a dinosaur fanatic, I watched in awe as the illusion of reality stomped across the silver screen. Dreams of becoming a cartoonist faded as books about computer animation, cinematography, and animatronics began to fill my bedroom.
I might try to describe myself as a divided artist, in all the ways, positive and negative, that such a description could be taken. My “muse” shifts through its own version of the seasons. At times, I’m an insatiable photographer. Then, I might spend months or even years trying to create a robot or some other machine in my shop. I always welcome the resurgence of my desire to craft an alternative reality in 3D on the computer, and I even once wrote a novel just to see if I could.
Of course art requires focus, so my wandering ways can’t be given free rein. Nevertheless, my single greatest “artistic” achievement has been to strike a fulfilling balance in my artistic pursuits. Through all of these outlets, I think the concept of narrative and shape are the consistent elements; I desperately want to tell the stories and show the visions in my head.