The first time I ever saw my husband's art was after a softball game played at Memorial Hall, on the former Centennial grounds in Philadelphia. He was working primarily with watercolors then—almost-abstract landscapes on postcard-sized rectangles that depicted imaginary, possibly believable places.
In nearly uncountable ways and within an astonishing array of media, Bill has carried those motifs forward—and now he is translating them into clay. He's building bridges and tunnels inside cones and squares, perfecting surfaces in a medium that is notorious for having a mind of its own. He does that work quietly for hours every day in a basement studio, and then again on Wednesdays, among our friends at the Wayne Art Center.
Yesterday, a beautiful autumn day, we were grateful that that work was awarded the Wayne Art Center Ceramics Award at the Fall 2015 Members' Exhibition.
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