The Portage

The Portage


Can you feel the wetness of rock under his moccasins? Hear the rushing water pouring over the cliff heights. The mist in the air gives immediacy to each movement. With deftness the canoe is poised. The silence of the forest embraces all.

On of my joys is ‘witnessing’ people, living in harmony with nature. In these moments, I find ‘sculptures within’ my feelings. I was once left spellbound….watching a man in a field with a shovel. It was so ‘honest’. I remember driving through a small town and seeing a pregnant woman hanging laundry (wind blown sheet against her belly). It took my breath away. Once, as a youth, I remember watching an old couple eating in silence at the Dairy Queen. I felt the mystery of ‘old age’ and wondered what awaited me. To “see” what is not there physically but is teeming with the intangible…..and capture ‘that’ in bronze….is ‘the miracle’ I look for.


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