- CV Detail -
ARTIST'S STATEMENT
Securing space for public art in cluttered urban environments takes political skill, visionary concepts, and substantial funding. Starting small might seem like your only option.
Instead, try making art for vast procedural landscapes. There's room for everything in virtual worlds. Disperse your software defined environments around the world with the Internet, and maybe someday throughout the cosmos with spacetime independent quantum entanglement.
I had a studio class in 1989 taught by sculptor Stephen De Staebler. Walking across campus, he asked about my day job, and I told him I designed computer games. He wanted to know what was on the technology horizon and I said virtual reality. I speculated that artists would soon make sculpture not meant for the physical world. With a wry smile De Staebler replied, "That's a scary thought, Tom."
For my day job in 2000, I was a part-time ironworker at Mark di Suvero's Petaluma, California studio. In the evenings, I designed I‑beam and plate steel sculptures with 3D modeling software by Autodesk, Inc., my partner's employer. I was a Technical Artist at James Madison University in 2014 when I first walked among these large digital artworks using a game engine and a virtual reality head-mounted display.
By 2020, I was generating polygon meshes from 3D scans of handmade maquettes and clay figures, from digital sculpts and surface models. Today I develop user interfaces for navigating procedural landscapes roamed by conversational docents. In an upcoming book, I chronicle the rise of this complex art form and I imagine its future.
Securing space for public art in cluttered urban environments takes political skill, visionary concepts, and substantial funding. Starting small might seem like your only option.
Instead, try making art for vast procedural landscapes. There's room for everything in virtual worlds. Disperse your software defined environments around the world with the Internet, and maybe someday throughout the cosmos with spacetime independent quantum entanglement.
I had a studio class in 1989 taught by sculptor Stephen De Staebler. Walking across campus, he asked about my day job, and I told him I designed computer games. He wanted to know what was on the technology horizon and I said virtual reality. I speculated that artists would soon make sculpture not meant for the physical world. With a wry smile De Staebler replied, "That's a scary thought, Tom."
For my day job in 2000, I was a part-time ironworker at Mark di Suvero's Petaluma, California studio. In the evenings, I designed I‑beam and plate steel sculptures with 3D modeling software by Autodesk, Inc., my partner's employer. I was a Technical Artist at James Madison University in 2014 when I first walked among these large digital artworks using a game engine and a virtual reality head-mounted display.
By 2020, I was generating polygon meshes from 3D scans of handmade maquettes and clay figures, from digital sculpts and surface models. Today I develop user interfaces for navigating procedural landscapes roamed by conversational docents. In an upcoming book, I chronicle the rise of this complex art form and I imagine its future.
EDUCATION
EARLY CAREER
MIDDLE CAREER
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