What if art could do more than hang on a wall? What if it could heal, inspire, and protect the wild?
That’s the heart behind Art of Nature—a nonprofit I’ve founded to connect people to nature through art.
I hope you'll follow this journey!
🌿Learn more: https://t.co/9kUf925kOq
Some things are meant to stay long after you’re gone.
Between ’89 and ’93, I presented this life-size pronghorn to Governor Stan Stephens of Montana at Region 7 Fish and Wildlife, where it still is today. Grateful for their work to protect these animals for future generations.
Reflections like this have always pulled me in.
I stood watching these spoonbills in shallow water, their forms shifting and breaking below. That moment stayed with me. Back in the studio, it became Spoonbill Reflections.
My way of holding onto something that never holds still.
Without intervention, they wouldn’t have survived. I often think about Cypress and Pepper. Taken in by White Oak Conservation as juveniles, I saw them years later, no longer fragile but growing into what they were meant to be. That stayed with me.
https://t.co/bwOsm7kej0
Just when you start to get used to them, they leave. That’s the rhythm of migration.
Painted buntings flash through. Sandhill cranes gather from golf courses to open prairies. Some stay. Some move on.
I shared more about Florida’s migratory birds here:
https://t.co/UTu15tcCjS
They call them “devil birds,” but there’s nothing sinister about them.
An anhinga rises from the water, wings spread wide in the sun. That shape lasts only a moment.
That’s the moment that turns into sculpture.
Imagine being born into captivity.
Imagine your teeth removed and being castrated so you’re easier to control. Ricky likely spent years in entertainment before living alone in a garage.
At Save the Chimps, I saw what remained.
In Silent Thought, I honored that dignity.
It’s the space between them that matters.
When I watch doves in the wild, I study how one shifts and the other adjusts. The spread of a wing. The bend of a branch.
In "2 Graces", that balance becomes a moment caught in time.
Nature gives the gesture. I hold it there.
Flashback to 23, knee-deep in Yellowstone, photographing trumpeter swans.
Those hours studying wings and movement shaped what followed.
That same study of form lives on in this dining table, where a bird becomes the foundation.
I’m still watching. Still translating nature.
Their white feathers and red bills pull my focus each time.
A White Ibis doesn't need exaggeration. The contrast says it all, the neck's curve does the rest.
When I sculpt them, I’m not inventing the pose. I translate what I see.
Nature gives the design. The studio refines it.
I don’t make these moments up in the studio. I see them first.
Watching herons tend to one another, I study posture, balance, the curve of the neck, and the space they hold.
That’s where the work begins. Not in clay or canvas, but out here.
Nature teaches. I pay attention.
A clean idea enters the studio, then the work begins. Clay everywhere, tools scattered, hands working faster than the mind can keep up.
This is where mistakes teach me. This is where beauty is born from the mess.
Art isn't made in pristine rooms.
Photography: David Surks
Art can’t stop climate change—but it can remind us what’s at stake. These sculptures are my love letters to a world we’re trying to hold onto.
From humpback and right whales to Everglades gators, every piece is a story. A celebration.
Here’s a few that hit close to home:
To my fellow artists and creatives:
Being an artist in the age of AI is a strange new frontier. I
But here’s what I’ve learned after decades of making things with my hands: authenticity still matters. Maybe now more than ever
Keep creating. Keep showing up. That’s the real work.
A Year in Oil and Bronze is a look back at the rhythms that moved me this past year. I invite you to explore the collection online, wherever you are.
🖼️: https://t.co/nGRtXhIjyh
How to tell a #manatee is in distress – fresh wounds vs. healed wounds: Healed wounds resulting in scars often look white/grey, fresh wounds appear as deep gashes with sometimes open muscle exposed & should be reported to FWC at 1-888-404-3922
Eagle + Rain + Fog = One Insane Wildlife Moment
Bone chilling wind, ice cold rain and a thin veil of fog didn’t seem to stop this majestic eagle. It slammed on the brakes and came sliding in, pantaloons swaying in the breeze, talons curled into tiny fists, eager to wrap themselves around a helpless hake.
I love how rain transforms everything in a video or photograph, the look, the mood, the energy. Watching eagles come careening out of the sky while it’s raining, one of my absolute favorite things in the world.