Born 12-14-79, Port Jefferson, NY I decided not to go to school for art because I never really got along with the artists at my high school and so by inductive logic proclaimed that I did not fit in with any artists and would therefore find art school utterly intolerable. So I went to the University of Delaware and became a philosophy major until my sophomore year when I ran out of hypothetical steam chasing my hypothetical tail in hypothetical circles and went to France to study art history. When I returned I became a sculpture major because after taking a few classes in the painting department, I learned that the anthropology department would have had more interest in the fossils teaching the class then I did. So sculpture wasn't my thing because I kept accidentally almost or at least imagining almost killing myself with the large power equipment. So I took all that imaginative power and returned to the painting department, where I met a 25-year-old grad student named Kyle Stevenson. For the first time in my life I had real academic training, not the post-bauhausian foundation tripe they give you to weed out all the imaginative people, who end up going to the sculpture department, like me. So I basically started painting for the first time ever in my life, and after I graduated I moved up to the New Paltz area, got a studio at the Falcon Community Arts Center in Marlboro, and started making money doing portraits. I received a master's degree in Art Ed from Manhattanville, and I got an art-teaching job at Briarcliff Manor elementary school. I live in Mount Vernon where I still take commissions and I am a new member of the Reilly League of Artists and I plan on studying at the Florence Academy of Art in, well, Florence, which is an atelier. I began my painting career as an impressionist, but now I have polished my brushstrokes to resemble Lhermitte and Bougereau and the salon painters of the late 19th century. I continue to want to be John Singer Sargent and I would love to have met Alberto Giacometti if only he hadn’t gone and died, poor guy. I listen to Phish while I paint and believe that Trey Anastasio, the guitarist, is the hardest working realist in the art world. I envy his work ethic. I myself have big plans, but I would rather show the world then talk about them; what's a painting worth these days? I think it’s like 990 or 991 words or something, ill round up and say 995.