I’ve been thinking about how we measure distance: we’re leaving this morning on a family road trip — back to the state where I was born — in the heart of the Midwest. It’s a distance far enough to require 12 hours on the road. 12 hours back to the state of childhood.

So, I’ve been wondering: how do we measure the distances between talk, love and transformation?

Pictured above is Stories for (ab)Normal Times: 2.2017, a collage journal drawing account of February 2017, the second in a new (4 year?) series-in-progress. Graphite, colored pencil, found image on museum board, 5.625” x 5.625”.

And, a dream recalled two year ago today (as recorded in 59 Dreams: A Nocturnal Year):

Dream #15 (3.25.2015): Broccoli Brooches
& The Fitness Rally
Looking at graduate student work, 
I’m drawn to a series of brooches —
they appear to be delicately crafted
heads of broccoli and purple cabbage, mounted
on white cards.
The artist hands them to me for a closer look —
they are exquisite.
Later, at a fitness rally
we’re packed into bleachers with an unruly crowd.
People elbow their way to their feet and yell out
to what’s being said at the podium.
We line up on the field
and hold our fitness numbers in front of our chests.
We’re working hard to get everyone up to their number.

Copies of 59 Dreams: A Nocturnal Year, an affordable, limited edition artists’ book are available for purchase here.

View Artists’ Books
View Installations


I’ve set my hands to the task of witnessing. Pictured above is Stories for (ab)Normal Times: 1.2017, a collage journal drawing account of this past January, beginning a new (4 year?) series-in-progress. (Graphite, colored pencil, found image on museum board, 5.625” x 5.625”.) In my head and heart, I’m slowly constructing a bridge of context from the work in which I was immersed pre-2017 (of recalling, recording and drawing one’s dreams) to the place where we find ourselves right now…

and to invoke the wisdom of dreaming, an offering from 59 Dreams: A Nocturnal Year:

Dream #11 (2.28.2015): Red Earth Flower Birds
I step into the red earth
of a newly landscaped section of our yard—
and sink almost to my knees.
The dirt is soft and dry and powdery.
I’ve noticed a volunteer plant coming up
and want to take a closer look.
I push aside the lower branches of a bush and discover
a sunflower-like blossom:
low to the ground, magenta at its center.
Tiny birds are hopping in and around it
gathering seeds.
Now that I’ve seen one,
more and more blossoms
come out of hiding (from beneath the bushes.)

Copies of 59 Dreams: A Nocturnal Year, an affordable, limited edition artists’ book are available for purchase here.

View Artists’ Books
View Installations


59 Dreams Installation2.jpg

In the face of precarious transitions and new unknowns, I’m choosing, right now, to celebrate completions. At the end of November I finished editioning Into the Night, a hand-printed, hand-cut and hand-assembled lithography tunnel book – a month ahead of schedule. (I hope you’ll take a look and, if you’re a collector, give it serious consideration. #1/15 has already found a home in the John M. Wing Collection of Chicago’s Newberry Library.) I’ve reached my first distribution goal for 59 Dreams: A Nocturnal Year. (You can help me reach the next one  – copies are still available for your personal library – and make perfect holiday gifts for your favorite dreamers!)

I began drawing my dreams in January of 2015, and followed this year of exploration, in 2016, by months of intense productivity —and a period of profound “connectivity” as the work went out into the world. I spent the autumn back in the studio, editioning, and I’m convinced that these works and their processes have been transformative in a way that extends far beyond my original ideas about the expansion of time. In essence, knowing my dreams has revealed another dimension of myself — another way of “knowing”. And, I believe, that the more we know, the more agency we possess. With this agency, the better equipped we are to set our stories to work — connecting with and transforming lives...