Jim Miller-Melberg died November 14, 2017, peacefully, at home, surrounded by his artwork.

In his words found on a notepad near his drawing table after his death: “I am a sculptor – a simple yet extraordinary occupation practiced by man for centuries – perhaps 40,000 years. Translating ideas, feelings and visions into tangible forms. Translating light and shadow into visual poetry to tell a tale: what one knows about life, love, beauty, death, horror of war, tranquility of peace – of happiness."

In my experience of writing, you generally start out with some overall idea that you can see fairly clearly, as if you were standing on a dock and looking at a ship on the ocean. At first you can see the entire ship, but then as you begin work you’re in the boiler room and you can’t see the ship anymore. All you can see are the pipes and the grease and the fittings of the boiler room and, you have to assume, the ship’s exterior. What you really want in an editor is someone who’s still on the dock, who can say, Hi, I’m looking at your ship, and it’s missing a bow, the front mast is crooked, and it looks to me as if your propellers are going to have to be fixed.