Infant Jack made his debut
in a gloom shrouded town in upstate New York noted for
the manufacture of shoes, a grand gothic asylum, and
the lack of sunlight. Papa
had planned to named the
baby Wolfgang August,
but fortunately cooler
heads prevailed.
Inspired by a slim volume on nineteenth century French Symbolism, the gifted tot drew countless pictures to entertain his friends. Since the friends were nearly all imaginary or inanimate, their responses to his artistic efforts can only be surmised.

The youthful iconoclast
ventured into the cold cruel
world to further his artistic education. Although he lost
quite a number of illusions,
he did manage to aquire
a couple of degrees (BFA,
Rhode Island School of Design and MFA, Cranbrook Academy
of Art), and a certain patina.

Today in his glamorous
West Coast studio, the
insouciant illustrator hovers
over his drafting table with
a song in his heart, a pen in hand, and an eye on the
future, zealously awaiting
each new challenge with his signature mixture of
foreboding and enthusiam.