About

Making sense has never been one of my goals. Accuracy, craft, thoroughness – these are things I can latch on to and work at. For forty years, I built other people’s visions. It’s good practice. I’ve enjoyed my job, felt fulfillment in fatherhood, and found meaning in making homes for my family and clients. When people ask what I do, I tell them I’m a carpenter, as that is how I’ve mostly made my living.

As the last of those hungry mouths went off to college, and the demands on my time slackened, I was infected with an overwhelming urge to create, to add my voice to the countless voices in the world who feel they have something pressing to say. Maybe it’s the ticking clock, maybe it’s actual inspiration. For those who are bitten, it matters little. Realizing any vision is a joy and a burden. It takes thankless effort, putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, chisel to wood, and thought to the idea, to turn an apparition into a thing.

I’ve spent my working life building the homes of wealthy New Yorkers. Most of those homes have since changed hands and been reworked in whatever fashion was deemed most impressive at the time.