My early years on Monhegan Island, off the coast of Maine, found me gazing at the huge masses of rock on the headlands as they contrasted with the brilliant foam below and the white clouds above. When the sun moved, everything changed.
I studied painting at art school, but switched to sculpture after doing a project with some Sunday school students: We gathered cardboard boxes, painted them white, and rearranged them endlessly against the huge windows of the church sanctuary, where light created strong shadows.
The students wanted to paint the boxes. I resisted, but after many weeks, the students prevailed, and we repainted the boxes in colors. At that point, the excitement and beauty vanished for me, as the experience of color replaced the simplicity of shapes.
I realized that what I loved, above all, was the drama of light and dark, and the relationship of one form to another. It was then I switched from painting to sculpture as my primary artistic activity. Endless possibilities exist with three-dimensional work.