I’m currently a cook at the Blue Heron Coffeehouse. in Winona, MN.
I make puppets. I make them do things, say things, and feel things (in hopes that I can also make people do things, say things, and feel things).
I’m a licensed teacher, an out-of-practice writer, an amateur videographer, and a dabbler in illustration, painting, ceramics, knitting, photography, and YMCA classes.
I made this website to show you what I love to do, to invite you to watch/join/admire/critique my work, and to hopefully make a few people smile.
Shout out to the amazing Meredith Meier for that neat pic
Puppets are a distinct, delightful strain of fiction. I almost hesitate to say that in fear that some might think I mean “puppets aren’t real.” I mean the opposite.
In literature and theater alike, fictional narratives create new worlds through which readers and audiences can suspend their own realities to examine (and embrace!) themes that ring true in every sphere.
Puppets demand that same interruption of reality right off the bat. People know puppets aren’t real. But they want to believe. They choose to believe. If I, as a puppeteer, can bring the inanimate to life for an audience, it means the audience has met me halfway. They have willingly suspended their disbelief and opened themselves to the magic of theater. This exchange is unique to puppetry, and it opens up infinite opportunities to enthrall, enrage, challenge, inspire, and delight the masses.
Why Watertown Plank?
Watertown Plank Road was the thoroughfare of my youth. It runs from the heart of Wauwatosa to the edge of Elm Grove (Wisconsin boy here). From our house on Church Street, it provided the most direct route to get just about anywhere.
For me, turning on Watertown Plank meant one of two things. Either I was just heading out to be somewhere, do something, and see the world, or I was on my way home.