
Pathways to Flight is a monumental stainless steel sculpture exploring motion, lift, and ascent through abstracted wing forms. Rising 20 feet tall, spanning 26 feet wingtip to wingtip, and extending 20 feet in depth, the work occupies space architecturally, engaging viewers from multiple vantage points.
Fabricated from ¼-inch polished stainless steel, the sculpture reflects sky, light, and surrounding environment, shifting in character throughout the day. The scale and material emphasize both strength and lightness—mass held in tension, form suggesting flight without literal depiction.
Designed for outdoor public settings, the work balances durability with visual openness, inviting movement around and through the piece while maintaining a strong, upward presence.
This sculptural alligator pair functions as a gentle, whimsical public landmark. Standing approximately 8 feet high and 8 feet wide, the figures are scaled to invite interaction rather than intimidate. Positioned in front of the stadium, the work has become a familiar point for photographs, play, and informal gathering.
The approachable forms and friendly character encourage engagement across ages, reinforcing sculpture as a shared public experience. Rather than serving as a distant monument, the work succeeds through accessibility—people make a point of standing with it, touching it, and returning to it over time.


Tarpon Springs Tarpon is a 12-foot-high sculptural tarpon created as a public landmark celebrating the area’s deep connection to fishing and coastal life. The vertical scale and dynamic form emphasize motion, strength, and the distinctive character of the species.
Friends Forever is a memorial sculpture honoring the Cantor Fitzgerald employees who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. Installed on a golf course, the work serves as a quiet place of remembrance, emphasizing friendship, loyalty, and enduring bonds in the aftermath of loss.


Star Maiden— In 1983, I was selected by **Stirling Calder’s daughter, Margaret Calder Hayes, to complete a full-scale enlargement of the original sculpture. The work required translating an intimate form into monumental scale while preserving proportion, gesture, and intent.
Only one of many enlargements done as paid foundry sculptor
Pathways to Flight was designed and engineered without the use of computer modeling. The structure was developed through hand drawings and direct problem-solving. Structural engineer Mark Fuglar reviewed the design, provided handwritten calculations and schematic suggestions, and signed off on the engineering approach. With that approval, fabrication and construction of the sculpture began.


Today, AI lets us iterate at unprecedented speed. It’s efficient, but the trained eye sees the flaws beneath the surface detail. It is a time-saver—nothing more. Mistaking AI polish for real craftsmanship is a trap.
Some rely entirely on machine output, producing simulacra rather than art. In the long run, it’s self-defeating—possibly more corrosive than modern art itself, which at least provokes a question. Tools do not cheat. Artists cheat themselves when they avoid the medium.


Bernini used every resource available in his time. If he had aluminum armatures, foam, or a seven-axis mill, he would have used them without hesitation. He pursued excellence, not martyrdom. But even he would agree: nothing replaces the human hand working in real material.
Experience is the one thing no machine can supply. Mastery requires time, repetition, and direct contact with clay, stone, or wax. What the modern world truly lacks is not technology—but working shops and apprenticeships. Without them, we risk losing the craft itself.
