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A Mythology of My Own Making

As we march into the tangible (adult) world from childhood, we know we leave behind some truths - some fading, misty, beckoning, elemental aspirations which beg us not to abandon them; they despair that we do and frown when we fail to return from our quest for maturity and its secular sidekick, objectivity. All things can exist when we believe they exist; they grow substantial and untethered when we don't. It is the clinging. Extracting understanding and comprehension from the pantheon of our potential (probable?) mythologies, all of which are stored on the shelf of infinite possibilities, that place where all things and all answers become promise.      

Medusa's Ride is Here
39 x 29 x 36 

Steel, copper, patina

The Journey Always Begins Where Your Face Ends
13 x 5 x 5     (V1)

Cast bronze, cast glass

“Was I lost again?” Coyote thought as he looked back to where the shaman had stood working. He closed his eyes.
“You had forgotten how to look for yourself”, said the ants. “You sought a path to your own heart on the horizon, forgetting that the journey always begins where your face ends.   That is where you must always start if you are ever to find what you are looking for.”


-Vignettes from 'Coyote- a Mythology of My Own Making', Vol.1

The Journey Always Begins Where Your Face Ends   (V2)

11.5 x 7 x 7   

Cast bronze, cast glass