More than anything that occurred at the SIU foundry, more than the crits and discussions on visual culture, even more than the alcohol fueled debates in the bar across from the Glove Factory, it was Tom’s life, his leading by example that greatly influenced and served as a defining catalyst for what a life in sculpture can be.

My love of reading I owe in large part to him and his not -so-subtle manner of conveying that artists need to read great literature and have eclectic tastes in their library. The incessant corrections on my poor grammar, especially while he held court in the bar were always intended to elevate and educate, never humiliate. His travel tales encouraged me to explore the world and expand my interests far beyond what the eyes can discern. The discipline he demands of himself in the studio and the astonishing productivity that continues into his eighth decade inspires and continually reminds me to get busy.

When I first arrived to tour the facility as a prospective grad student, Tom picked me up at the Amtrak Station. His station wagon was packed with foundry patterns and studio accoutrements. I believe that my first question was, “Where do you store all your work?” He glanced my way, a definite snarl to his expression, and said, “You deal with it”. It was quiet the rest of the way to the foundry, and I soon learned that the answer to many a question pertaining to the exigencies of life as a sculptor was simply, “Deal with it.” In the Fall of 1985, he strolls into my studio and hands me a book, says, “I think you’ll like this”. It’s a coffee table monograph about the Royal Ship of Cheops, discovered in 1954 near the Great Pyramid of Giza. The contents of this book launch me in a trajectory of curiosities that I’m still flying towards. Thank you Tom.