Complementing sculpture, for me, is storytelling. Whereas sculpture is concentration and compression, storytelling is multiplicity and expansion. Where sculpture is wordless absorption in the process of creating and manipulating physical form; storytelling is the word-filled experience of talking into life a long scroll of characters and contexts. Sculpture needs a studio, tools, and materials; it is heavy with the implements of craft. Storytelling takes the world for its studio, and needs no tools but observation and imagination. Sculpture is solitary, often, while storytelling tends to the gregarious, and likes performance.

I began telling stories in the mid-'80's, when my son Teague was in the Blacksburg New School. I was during this period an English teacher at Virginia Tech, and, naturally, writing stories – even a novel – on the side. Apart from book reviews for the Roanoke Times, however, none of this material was published, in part, I later realized, because I didn't know to whom I was writing. It was the classic case of a would-be writer who didn't know his audience. That changed unexpectedly with the invention and appearance of Alumaman ( a name coined by neighbor and mensa-mind Paula Markham) on Friday mornings in the multi-purpose room for the kids of the New School.

Who was Alumaman? He was a version of Popeye, who crawled, gasping, through the crowded room, toward a discarded aluminum can, which, when Alumaman at last took hold of it with a final, desperate lunge, sent an electric current of renewed vitality through his tired body, so that slowly he got to his knees. Stood to his feet! Leaned back and spread his arms aloft! ALUMAMAN!

Alumaman was so much fun, and such an effective mascot for the school recycling program, that I soon found myself called upon to entertain the kids with other invented characters, which for me meant telling stories. Indeed – and this might only have happened at a "parent-teacher cooperative" like the New School, it wasn't long before I had a regular "storytelling gig." And I loved it! The problem I had had as a writer in not knowing my audience, disappeared. My audience was right before me, giving me instant feedback. 

And when I was finished, they would ask, "is this true?" and climb all over me. What could be better? Furthermore, I'd lost a couple of other problems: the English-teacher's propensity to be sure every sentence is grammatically correct; and the Virgo's tendency to fuss obsessively over details. Because I was telling stories that in many cases I was still "making up" just minutes before I began, there was little chance to "edit," and none to "proofread." What mattered most was rapport with the kids, and it was in "reading" their faces and responses that I determined how to shape the story as I went along.

When Teague graduated from the New School, my story-telling there stopped, but I had something of a "local reputation" as a storyteller by that time, and began telling stories at other venues, especially the Blacksburg Presbyterian Church, and Laura Shawhan's Art Salon.

When our daughter Haley entered the New School in 1999, I started the storytelling all over, every Friday, for children K-5 (middle-schoolers had their own programs), and this time with an actual "contract" (my designated service to the school). With a set schedule like this, I developed "chapter stories," told over a span of several weeks. Especially memorable was my time with the fifth-graders, who, once they'd fought over the available pillows, and wedged themselves together, in our storytelling nook, fell quiet (briefly) as I began another installment of Shameka and the Search for the Golden Soul.

Since that time, I have told stories at Glade Church in Blacksburg, Floyd Fest, the Ambrosia Farm Art Camp, and Virginia Tech's Farm and Family Showcase. In the summer of 2005, I finally applied myself to the task of getting some of my stories recorded and packaged on CD, which I accomplished with the help of the fine folks at Flat Five Recording Studio in Salem, Virginia. I hope you like what you hear!