I grew up in Port Clyde, a small fishing village on the coast of Maine. My family has, for generations, earned their living from the sea. Port Clyde has had a second identity over the past hundred years as a destination for artists. The Wyeth family and Bill Thon painted in Port Clyde. Robert Henri and his students, Benton, Bellows, Kent and Hopper went on to Monhegan, an island twelve miles off the shore of Port Clyde.

      There weren’t a lot of opportunities in the Port Clyde area to make a living except for packing fish or waitressing and I had bigger plans. I never desired to become an artist because I had no exposure to art instruction of any kind.  Eventually, I got the nerve to seek out some instruction. I went to the Boston Museum for a class and as people started to take out their portfolios,  I hightailed it. I tried another class later with the same results.

      Despite this, I was always drawn to artists. I thought they were mysterious and exciting. Interesting people who didn’t go by other’s rules, their personalities seemed free, they saw beneath the surface, they were on to something. Port Clyde and the mid-coast area were inundated with these creatures. Bill Thon lived across the street from my childhood home. I remember seeing Louise Nevelson’s work at the Thorndike Hotel in Rockland and was fascinated. Bernard Langlais, who lived in Cushing, had a yard full of whimsical interesting wooden sculptures. Although I had no instruction, I had exposure to artists and their art.

      I returned to college in my late 30’s. I might have chosen the study of art, maybe to learn gallery management, but one needed a portfolio and the curriculum required studio art classes, so I took refuge in social work.

      I enrolled in a four week paper collage course in the summer of my 50th year. As a young girl “tomboy” I loved working with wood, building endless camps in the woods. My favorite Christmas present was a tool belt I received at age six. It makes sense that after one class I chose wood over paper. My instructor’s response was so positive I finally started creating assemblages made from found objects which include everything from metals, plastics and wood

      In reading about outsider, folk, naive, primitive, or what ever label they may put on untrained artists, it seems to be a general marker that the artist didn’t start creating work until later in life.

      There is probably a unconscious religious or spiritual expression in my work. I don’t consider myself to be a religious person but the consistent fish icon suggests a sacred element, which is also a marker of folk artists.

      My challenge, in my work, is to be unselfconscious, to release the child’s spontaneity we so admire but that often gets lost as we mature. My goal is to get as close as I can to pure expression. I see beauty in crudeness and I intentionally aim for that in my work. I respect but don’t worship craftsmanship.  I experience such joy when it all comes together.

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