About Georgia

"I like my sculpture to invite an interaction with its audience. This is often meant to be a direct physical interaction, but always I strive to engage the viewer's imagination. I tend to present an incomplete visual narrative; a story is suggested, a feeling evoked, and the viewers find themselves providing details."

The following essay was submitted to the The Everett Herald for publication in their Fall 2020 Pacific Coast Magazine.

WHAT: It has taken me a long while to realize that I observe things differently than most people. I see shapes and forms more than details and that’s what I focus on when sculpting.  To me, it really shows in my work. In many of my pieces you could take away the parts that identify them as figurative and be left with a sort of abstract form that still works sculpturally. I think that is a lot of the attraction people have for my work – even if they don’t realize it.

I also love whimsy – which I think of as playful or fanciful rather than comical. There can be the whimsy of three girls dancing on a sidewalk, or a cow and calf at home in the middle of an urban shopping center that was once a dairy farm. But my most obviously whimsical sculptures have to be the series of Dancing Rabbits. I started long ago with a pair waltzing at the “Harvest Moon Ball” and have continued on with different dance poses every two or three years since. It’s a challenge to try and adapt animal anatomy to human movement, but the blending creates a whole other sort of visual whimsy on top of just the idea of them dancing.

I knew early on that I wanted to work life size, which can be very expensive to produce in bronze. So I learned how to cast my own work, which really helped build my career. We cast for about 35 years, but have now transitioned to partnering with Reinmuth Bronze in Eugene. I’m sure that knowing the difficulty and demands of the whole foundry process informs my sculpting style somewhat, not in any kind of a limiting way but in a way that makes the translation of clay into bronze more fluid.

I have always preferred my public work to be as accessible as possible. I like that people, especially children, can touch it and get involved with it. So whenever possible I place it directly in a site and seldom on pedestals.

WHEN: I grew up in Rural Pennsylvania riding horses and tending animals on our small farm with my twin sister. Back then we actually had art in high school and there was clay available and I found I enjoyed three dimensions.  One of my first pieces was a little owl.

I came out West for the Master of Fine Arts program at the University of Washington. It was a difficult time for me because the sculpture department was not oriented toward the kind of figurative work I was doing. But in the end I think that was actually helpful since it forced me to explore different ways of thinking about sculpture and combining styles. I’m sure that lesson later inspired pieces like “Triad” for the Everett Library, with realistic but minimalized harbor seals cutting through three pillars that are architectural in nature but also somewhat natural looking.

I had a great undergrad professor William Lasansky. He not only taught me about form and line but about using tools and casting metal. He had a sensibility about quality and how it is evoked. It’s a certain look. It can be there, or not, in even just the roughness of your clay stroke. One of his most important gifts was helping me understand that a lot of times the real quality, the real art, is in knowing when to stop. He has always remained a strong influence. My husband still askes, “What would William say?” if I am struggling with a piece.

WHY: Making art brings me joy, and to think that my art brings joy to others seems to me about the best bargain ever made. The early years of trying to make a living were hard, and I did question my life choices at times. But somehow whenever it seemed nearly hopeless that call would come in from a gallery about a sale, or one of the seemingly endless applications for Public Art Commissions would actually end up with me being chosen. I am very grateful for all the support I have received.

There is a sculpture of mine in the nearby town of Langley of a teenage boy leaning against a railing and looking out over Saratoga Passage, with his dog waiting by his side. Randy and I sit in that little first street park sometimes and watch people interact with the piece. One time a tourist used broken English and motions to ask me to take a picture of him and his family gathered around the piece.  If I ever wonder why I do what I do I’ll just go sit there on a busy day.

Retirement and what that might look like is a topic around our house these days. Like a lot of self-employed people we’re faced with how to wind things down after working so hard to get where we are. Not sure how that’s going to play out. I have grandkids so I am spending more time with them and slowing down with the studio work. I really get a kick out of being with them because any sculpture they see, whether it’s mine or not, they go, “Nana, did you make that?” They know Nana makes sculptures.

The reasons I became an artist haven’t changed and it is feeling like I will be growing old still exploring that creativity that has always driven me. But like of a lot other things I still love to do, it’s clearly going to have to be at a more leisurely pace.

HOW: I sculpt in oil based clay that never dries out – which is a lot more convenient than the natural clays I used to use.  But to get from a completed clay work to a bronze sculpture there’s a whole lot of skilled foundry work that goes on. I have had wonderful assistants over the years, and Randy has been a huge part of making it all happen. He’s the foundry man, bookkeeper, photographer, mold maker, and so much more. He’s been what every artist needs in their lives to free them from all the necessary practicalities of this business. Sometimes his level headedness gets in the way though – while he does tolerate my having horses in our pasture, he nixed my proposal of life size bronze Stallions crashing through the second story wall for a casino in Reno. Go figure.

I have recently taken an interest in bird images. So in these pandemic days it’s mostly me and my birds in a quiet studio. I generally don’t listen to music because it distracts me from focusing on the piece.  An exception was the three young girls dancing for “Along Colby “. I wanted the piece to have joy and rhythm and kept classical music on for a good deal of it.

The other part now is sharing all the ups and downs of developing an art career with my daughter as she establishes herself as a painter. It’s been wonderful to see her growth and be able to provide guidance. In return, her youthful excitement about new ideas and possibilities has been a good reminder and motivator for me after all these years.