Directly couching on slate and marble revealed interesting textures. We cast pulp onto plaster, then bisque ware, then inside bowls, and learned that, wow, an old windshield wiper, all-weather of course, can be used to squeegee water out of reliefs covered with a felt. These were the beginnings of learning much about casting paper and making strong, large-scale artwork. Selling the work usually required framing, and acrylic boxes became the answer. Some of us know the feeling of accidentally kicking the corner of the Lucite frame we just set down to clean. You just spent two hundred dollars and now, no way to repair the box. As my collection of these mishaps grew I suddenly had an epiphany of turning a damaged box over and using it as a vacuum table. Oh, the hours it saved me from sponging and wiper blade wicking. Then came the shop vac, the vacuum pump, and finally the airless compressor recommended by John Di Marci from Sonoma State. Thank you John for saving me from long, tedious hours and for giving the castings better pressure to capture greater detail. The pulling of a casting from the mold has always felt to me like the opening of a kiln. You sort of know how things are going to look but you are always surprised. I remember the first time I inked up an etching plate and used it as part of a larger casting. The detail was as good as if I had run the entire construction through the intaglio press. This discovery led me to the use of pencil and graphite marks that would be picked up as the castings dry. The papermaking process often informs me as much as the images it helps to create. Perhaps the biggest surprise beyond the fact that papermaking has given me a livelihood is that the people I have met and the friends I have made through the years are so genuine and talented. They have supported and inspired this crazy endeavor called the Morgan Conservatory. Without their help there would be no conservatory, no gathering of beaters, moulds, presses, and the like in Cleveland.

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