When I was very small I loved movies. With my crayons I would draw a series of pictures which told a story – usually bad guys getting caught by the Lone Ranger and Tonto or some other heroic types -- then scotch tape them together and pull them through slits on either side of a cardboard box which had the end cut out in the shape of a movie screen. I guess I was always headed for the world of film and video. Before I knew how to write I was telling poems and stories to my mom who I’m sure hoped great things for me and would dutifully write them down.

A four-year-old’s poem:

Pussy, pussy willow, why do you cry?
If you don’t I will let you hear the pretty breezes passing by.

It didn’t scan but, hey, what did I know. As I got older my meter improved.

At the age of fourteen, I was turned down for a date. Her excuse -- "I’m going to try out for a play." Not to be deterred, that night I went down to the theater and offered my services. She never showed up, but I got a job doing props. In the next play they gave me a part and I became totally hooked. For three years I spent all my free time doing Little Theater. I adored acting. I got good reviews and loved going to parties with the local theater crowd.

UCLA accepted me as a freshman in the theater department and I flourished. Sort of. I got lots of rolls, won my share of awards, and got pictured in Parade Magazine’s "Name the Star of Tomorrow" contest. But self confidence was never a strong suit, so one day after a very talky improvisation when my acting teacher suggested I try my hand at playwriting, I took the bait and soon was cranking out one-acts like cupcakes. Since my writing seemed to be appreciated, acting took a back seat, and four playwriting awards later it was off to the Big Apple with my sweetheart to seek our fortunes.

Lots of goofing off, a little work, and a play called The Watch Pit (which premiered at the Brooklyn Academy of Music to favorable reviews in the NY Times and other periodicals) was followed by hard times, lapsed options, and a (possibly flawed) decision to stop writing plays and concentrate on film where the big money was.

A number of speculative screenplays, and a handful of commissions, led to a contract to write a 90 minute TV drama. It was a good script. Unfortunately, the producers suddenly changed direction and decided to go with known talent. My slot was usurped first by Ingmar Bergman, then Dalton Trumbo, then Tennessee Williams… then they canned the series. By now I was a member of the New Dramatists, the Writers Guild of America, and the Societe' Des Auteurs Compositeurs Dramatique. A diminishing taste for carpentry, which was how I supported myself in between writing jobs, led me into advertising.

Ad copy was fun and the white collar was a pleasant change. Soon I was copy chief in a small agency. We did well, and when clients needs called for commercials and sales meetings we elected to produce them in-house, and the job fell to me. Eventually, a separate company was formed called Brainstorm Productions, and when its needs became too demanding I bought out my partner, separated from the agency, and set out on my own.

After a stint doing commercials Brainstorm became established as producers of up-scale film and video for the nation’s Fortune 500 companies. Eighty national and international awards for writing and directing later it was time to say goodbye to business and get back to the fun stuff.

After years directing film and video my love of visual imagery has blossomed into a powerful interest in the art of photography. "Shadows and Reflections", the latest series in this ongoing romance with the still camera, explores both the world of reflection, with particular emphasis on reflections in water, and the elusive and very temporary world of shadows, which change dramatically as the sun making its rounds passes through branches, grass, curtains and other modifiers. When a breeze wrinkles water based reflections fascinating images emerge, transforming into flowing abstractions of shape and color or quasi-impressionist paintings in which brush strokes can be clearly seen.

So, welcome to my website.

Enjoy the pictures and the writing.