A drawing from 2005, one of a series called Mapping Existence.
I’ve spent a lifetime around art — teaching it, designing it, selling it, and making it.
Funny thing: becoming a full-time artist later in life may be the hardest chapter yet.
Still working.
Still becoming.
What keeps you doing what you’re doing?
Another map made years later, still wrestling with some of the same questions.
Years ago, I showed my students at Minneapolis College (MCTC) a video by Paula Scher on serious play vs. solemn play, and I find myself returning to that idea again.
“Serious play is about letting go and allowing things to happen. Solemn play is about controlling the outcome.” — Paula Scher
Years ago, I showed my students at Minneapolis College (MCTC) a video by Paula Scher on serious play vs. solemn play, and I find myself returning to that idea again.
At the time, I understood it pretty simply. Serious play felt open and exploratory, a place where not knowing was part of the process. Solemn play felt heavier, more controlled—something that closed things down.
But now I see it differently.
I think solemn play comes after serious play. Serious play is where things begin—where something opens, and I don’t quite know what I’m doing yet. But then something starts to form. A shape, a direction, a presence begins to emerge.
That’s where solemn play enters. It feels more like a kind of holding. A kind of listening. A willingness to stay with what’s emerging without trying to resolve it. It requires attention.
It’s almost like the kernel forms in serious play, but it begins to take root in solemn play.
Maybe the movement isn’t one or the other. It feels more like a quiet rhythm back and forth—between letting go and staying present, between discovery and care.
Where I am now isn’t about trying to get back to serious play.
It’s about learning how to remain in that space where something begins to take shape,
and then… the conversation begins.
I’m starting the year with this little drawing simply because it makes me smile. I like the strange little world that showed up here — a figure with its arms thrown up like, “Okay, universe, let’s celebrate,” a Ferris-wheel-looking thing, balloons, suns, and those chunky little bug-stick people bobbing around, just enjoying and being present.
Nothing in this really makes sense, but it feels playful and relaxed. I love the variation in the lines and how loose it is. It’s not careful or perfect — it just… happened, while I let my hand wander. In its own quirky way, that feels like “living in the now”: not overthinking, not polishing, just letting something exist because it wants to.
I’m guessing that’s a pretty good way to walk into 2026.
“the Tate has a great resource on what play can mean in art”
While refining the work, I recalled a lesson I often shared with my students: the 80/20 principle. You can always keep working and perfecting, but there’s a point where the essence is present — where the piece is alive and coherent. This artwork marks that balance: form and meaning are clear without endless revision.
transformation and renewal — how structure and energy evolve through process.
Every artist writes his own autobiography.
~ Havelock Ellis
Putting it out there… That is what an artist does. I am realizing that more and more, I am writing my autobiography. An artist does put it all out there.
Quakers (the Religious Society of Friends) has been taking more of my time lately. I just finished the Northern Yearly Meeting eNews for July. For the past few years, I edited and produced the eNews for the yearly meeting.
For most of my writing now, I am using Grammarly. Yes, it is AI, and since I am dyslexic, it is very helpful. However, there are still mistakes, mostly because of reading errors. I get impatient and skim. I found that it is not good for proofreading. I am considering writing more about my life, but I don’t know how open I want to be.
Derwent Inktense pencils and blocks have captured my attention as a new medium, and I am playing with them in combination with other materials that I am comfortable using. Applying the Inktense color with a brush was a concern because it has been quite a while since I last used watercolor or a brush. After playing with them, have a handle on the ink, but not a tight grip. : ) My pen work over the last couple of years has been beneficial.
I think of my friends Joe Sinness and Andrea Carlson, artists who are adept with wet media and can create sharp lines and crisp edges.
I am drawing more and finding it rewarding—it allows me to center, and it is a meditative practice for me. Over the last few months, I have created three or four new pieces.
Below is a fun and quirky piece I created by playing and experimenting with Derwent Inktense pencils and my pens.
