"Do a large piece of smokestacks, Chris," said David Passalacqua, one of my favorite teachers during my senior year at Parson's School of Design. What? I thought. I just looked at him feeling a bit awkward. I didn't really like the feeling, and I wasn't sure why he said that. I looked at my work in progress. I had a decent, albeit slightly boring, illustration going. I wasn't ready to give up on my illustration. I looked at David. He was an excellent teacher – so extroverted. David's friendly eyes had an uncanny ability to bore a hole into your soul just by looking at you with the surety he had for the mastery of his craft and literally yank the guts of your creative instincts to the fore. That is what happened to me when I looked at him. He simply kicked my ass – as he was known to do with students – using a mischievous smile and an electric energy spilling from his deep knowledge of illustrative art. He made it his mission to challenge students to higher levels. "OK," I said to him calmly while my energy surged through my body. Something central changed that day for me. My journey as a painter became a passionate adventure -- a mission to capture the unimaginable.  

It was then, my first Charles Sheeler or Edward Hopper like subject matter I completed was the Con Edison Power House on East 14^th Street not too far from Parson’s suggested by Dave Passalaqua and I did three more viewpoints completed to be displayed for the senior year show. 

Today, I have been an oil painter for over 40 years.  My paintings are large scale and representational, spent most of my career making a name for myself as a painter focused on industrial buildings, most notably bridges.  After spending many years as a distant observer of man-made forms I am now drawn to depicting the human form.  The figurative works such as portraits range from faces, to full figures, workers, to couples in tender moments.  Although the industrial steel bridges and the playful embrace of a lover may seem on the surface two disparate topics, they are both at their core about connection.

My portraits of couples reveal moments of affection – glimpses into the intimacy that the subjects feel.  Their bodies are connected through touch an arm on a shoulder, a shared joke.  They lean into one another and connect.  A bridge does this.  A bridge touches down on one side of a river and then it reaches out and touches the other side.  The connection is strong and grounded and the exchange between both sides is now fluid and has a sense of accomplishment as well as ease.  A bridge connects communities, creates commerce, and accessibility groups of people.  It’s as if it was always there. Likewise, in my portraiture, paintings of working heroes, or the painting of people at the bar; “Mr. Mooney’s Bacon Cheeseburger Must Be Ready” their bodies, the people, were always connected.  My work, quite literally, bridges the gap.