Growing up on the Space Coast in the 60’s and 70’s was both idyllic and challenging (my father passed away when I was fifteen.) It’s probably true for many of us that what we loved in our teenage years still resonates today. The thrills of experiencing something for the first time: my first home run, first time up on a surfboard, first kiss, first car. Aren’t we all, in some way, trying to hold on to a little piece of that magic?  

Rocket Riders - 72 x 60 - I was so shy as a boy that my mom had to bribe me with a new Tonka truck to take swimming lessons. When I overcame my fear and learned to swim, though, she had trouble getting me OUT of the water, and once I started surfing, I was either on the baseball field or in the ocean. Catching a wave was like grabbing a comet’s tail - my own thrilling rocket ride on water. As my dad fell ill, I had to start letting go of childhood and each time I got out on my board, wondered if it would be my last ‘rocket ride.’  

Electric Sunset 60 x 46 and Indigo Ride 53 1/2 x 59 - I’d been wanting to experiment with neon for some time but it had to be traditional glass neon. Tracking down an artisan who could provide what I needed was an ordeal but worth the time and effort - I love the challenge, the excitement of not knowing exactly how things will play out. I’d rather try new approaches, and fail, than keep doing the same thing over and over. 

First Light, Cocoa Beach and Morning Tide, Cocoa Beach 8 x 10 each - inspired by old Polaroids I discovered - my father took them when he’d go to Cocoa Beach to fish. When I was little, he’d take me with him to Jetty Park (now Port Canaveral) but often he’d go out by himself for some quiet time.

Surf’s Up I and II  19 1/4 x 19 1/4 each - Also inspired by my father’s Polaroids; he’d only go to the beach early in the morning.   

Three Hands   10 x 13 1/4   I have a thing for old guys and their tools; when I’m antique shopping, I usually come home with treasure from the ‘old tool section.’  These items remind me of my father’s work shed filled with tools from HIS father. As a kid, I was mesmerized by the vice, watching my dad pounding nails into wood. My dad passed away when I was a teen, but I’m lucky enough to have a second father:  my father-in-law, going strong at 90, another guy with a workbench full of tools - and he’s also an artist.  I asked him to do sketches of old tools and combined one of them with a page torn from my wife’s notebook and two items from my treasure hunts.