“I don’t believe in a guy upstairs. I believe in us.” ~ Suzy Eddie Izzard
Every day before school, my grandmother got us up early to attend the 7 am mass at St. Joan of Arc, on Areba Avenue— a church which was literally across the street from us. Fortunately, it was only a short half hour service which allowed me to then bolt home, inhale my oatmeal, slap a sandwich together for lunch, and then hoof it to high school before the 8 am bell. Yes, I was a teenage werewolf.
Despite my inattentiveness to the ceremony, I truly enjoyed being in this beautiful space. If I wasn’t dozing off, I was taking note of the art in this church. Morning light streamed into the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows bursting with colored fragments, scattering light everywhere and illuminating the white marble interior. At the head of the church the floor-to-celing tesserae behind the altar bounce soft and warm light into the space. At the back of the church above the vestibule, the choir and massive pipe organ are framed with an enormous panel of Saint Joan being perpetually knighted by The Madonna and the arcangels in heaven.
Imagine seeing this gorgeousness every day before breakfast. Photo by Christine Chardo.
Every day— dazzling. Breathtaking.
And inspiring. Not every church features a sainted female warrior. I always thought she was kind’ve a badass.
Other highly-realistic and near life-size Carerra marble sculptures of saints are placed in prominent spaces around the church— the most logical one, crucified over the altar on a contrasting green marble cross. On close inspection, these marble statues appear to have translucent skin and bone, soft worn surfaces where many people have touched them.
The Stations of the Cross, recessed in the walls just below the enormous windows, are depicted in bas reliefs and are truly marvels. Part illusion and part clever engineering, the small carved surfaces create believable pictorial space. When I could sit in an aisle next to one of these, I’d study the careful marble carving the entire service and would get elbowed by my brother when I’d forget to stand up, sit, or kneel.
Other bits of the Catholic experience appealed to my budding apprecation of theater— the golden embroidered vestments, the frankinsense, the shining golden accoutremonts, the weird hats, and the solemn pageantry.
My feelings are clear: I love the art of this church but am reminded of how much better my life is without the Catholic religion and its beliefs. I imagine that there are as many Jewish atheists who feel a similar pang for the beautiful ceremony and meaning within the Judaic traditions while eschewing the dogma. And I can continue to carry its inspiration and allow its influence into my work despite the fact that it was constructed for a religious purpose. Human artisans made it with their heart and hands and gave it to others in a spirit of love and wonder.
The formal entrance with a larger-than-life figure of Joan d’Arc with her broadsword.
If you are ever in Hershey, PA, I’d encourage you to stop in St. Joan’s and sit for a few minutes and take in the beauty of the art of this mini-cathedral.
"Is art school worth it?" is the wrong question — it assumes worth can be measured before you know what you're shopping for. Drawing on three very different schools and what each one actually delivered, here's a better way to figure out what you need before you enroll in anything.
Most artists have been taught that self-critique means finding what's wrong and fixing it. But real self-critique isn't subtractive — it's gravitational. Here's how to find the signal that actually guides your best work.
Within a month I had more cleaning clients than I had hours for — so I gave the overflow to another person who needed a start, the same way my friend had given her clients to me. The demand didn't dry up. It never does.
I was testing new glazes — a project I've been building for months, reformulating my entire palette away from heavy metal oxides toward Mason stains. Safer chemistry. What I didn't anticipate was…
Your work's right to exist doesn't depend on whether you've been validated, or trained, or praised, or paid. It depends on whether you show up for it.
A friend of mine and I have been arguing about realism in art. It started with a conversation about photo reference. It prompted a larger question in my mind: what makes realism meaningful in the first place? And how much of it does a viewer actually need?
In 2022, I wrote about beginning to make my own pottery glazes from raw materials. Commercial bottled glazes were convenient, but expensive, and I had an itch to develop something more personal. Over five years of experimentation, I’ve come to understand the qualities I’m after…
IlluXCon is always a wild, wonderful week—equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration. Held at the GoggleWorks in Reading, it fills three floors with some of the best Imaginative Realism artists working today, and I’m always grateful to be part of that creative storm. 2025 was no exception.
Ever wonder why some images hold your attention while others fall flat? In this post, I share the compositional secrets that make an image unboring—and why our subconscious responds so powerfully to them.
The Manor Mill Gallery in Monkton, MD (say that fast three times!) was the perfect venue for From the Forest. Nestled in Maryland’s rolling hills, the Mill is surrounded by woodland and hiking trails—an ideal setting for a forest-themed show.
Some of my sigil tiles sprouted wings—so naturally, the paintings had to follow. In this post, I share how clay sketches began transforming into small oil paintings, carrying the Eye of Providence and other symbols into dreamlike new forms.
Winter is the third panel in the Seasons series for my friends, a lovely couple who now live in Arkansas. We met several years ago at an art conference and they were there as avid fans of imaginative realist art. They found my work and subsequently invited us to visit them. Sometime after that, they commissioned this series.
I’ve been having a lot of fun with the sigil series lately. I especially enjoy making them in rhythm with the seasons—letting each one echo the mood of the turning year.
Lughnasadh is a time of harvest, of gathering what’s grown, and of giving thanks for all that has carried us this far.
Why do I sculpt so many eyes into my work? It’s a question I get asked a lot—sometimes nervously. The answer has more to do with protection, presence, and ancient symbolism than you might expect...
Scheduled for August 23rd, the exhibition, “Out of the Forest” will be held at Manor Mill Gallery in Monkton, MD. Some works in progress here.
When I made this piece, I started thinking differently about legacy. It’s not just about me lasting. It’s about us. I want humanity to survive this perilous moment we’re living through. I want us to make it to the other side of whatever this is….
The Sigils are evolving a bit into something intriguing and new. I’m planning on offering a set to mark the eight seasons of the year’s Wheel. Litha, or Midsummer, is coming up on June 21st, representing the vibrant season of light, zenith, celebration, and radiance.
I’d never made a yarn bowl before so when a fan of my work asked me to make her some, I was intrigued with the challenge.
My own work is traveling a bit of a strange route of late. Since I’ve delved more into the meaning and making of sigils, I’m finding that they want to crop up everywhere in the art…
Asimov’s I, Robot stories; the idea of positronic brains, the laws of robotics, etc., fascinated me. I loved the mix of complex ancient civilizations, philosophy, and science fiction. His writing made the potential exploration of worlds by future beings seem so vast and interesting.
How is it possible to feel a “continuity of self” when all the cells in my body— with the exception of the lens of my eye— have regenerated more than once? I’m certain that I’ll still feel continuity of self when I’m 75.
What has become pretty clear to me is this: Artists who use their work or others’ work to train an AI to spit out images for them to paint are completely missing the real value of what they potentially could get from working with an AI assistant.
The gallery, Manor Mill in Monkton, MD, has invited me to participate in their group invitational show, “Out of the Forest” this August.
Some time ago, my friend, Marian, asked me to make a sigil tile for her. What the heck was that? I thought. A sigil, or “seal” is a magical symbol of a desired outcome based on a word.
Lately, I’ve been adding videos of my sculpting process on my YouTube channel. I uploaded this one in February after firing a huge batch of mugs.
I’ll be attempting to provide you with shorter blog posts more frequently— once or twice a week — to fill you in on what’s happening in my studio.
Recently, I downloaded the ChatGPT app to see what all the fuss was about and I was pleasantly surprised at how immediately the AI made itself useful…
Recently, I sold this little piece and was quite happy to hear that the buyer was someone who was familiar with my ceramics (they have a handful of monsterpots) but was totally unfamiliar with my drawings and paintings…
The fourth and final panel of the *Seasons* series commission for clients. This is still a work-in-progress, and this blog entry reveals the initial stages of the painting. I’ll add more photos and commentary as it’s completed.