- 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 over 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 technologies were on the 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 an ironworker at Mark di Suvero's Petaluma, California studio. In the evenings, I designed I‑beam and plate steel sculpture with 3D modeling software by Autodesk, Inc., my partner's employer. I was a part-time 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 mesh 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. I describe this new art form and I imagine its future in the upcoming book, "An Artist In Virtual Worlds".
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 over 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 technologies were on the 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 an ironworker at Mark di Suvero's Petaluma, California studio. In the evenings, I designed I‑beam and plate steel sculpture with 3D modeling software by Autodesk, Inc., my partner's employer. I was a part-time 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 mesh 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. I describe this new art form and I imagine its future in the upcoming book, "An Artist In Virtual Worlds".




