I am a collector born to a family of collectors. rocks, shells, bones, beer cans, beer signs, menus, advertising ashtrays, matchbooks, and miniature bears by the age fifteen.
I have always slowly amassed sets and subsets of objects based on my evolving tastes and, importantly, my whereabouts. living in Kenya for six months during
second grade I collected bones and teeth harvested from flattened & sun-dried roadkill, chiefly snakes. In California, I made elaborate tree houses for my
miniature bears with abalone shells and rocks, fiberglassed homemade skimboards with my friend Sam, and once made an inadequately small hang glider of bamboo and plastic. my mom taught me how
to sew. my dad had a boat, with all the knots, water and weather that that implies, as well as lots of time swimming and fishing. My family allowed me to follow my desires, sometimes with bated
breath no doubt. among the first photographs of myself is a sequence taken on my second birthday: I notice the candles, reach for them, then cry with the burn that ensued. that pretty much sums up my
life, in all its joyous and painful aspects.
As a sculptor and a cheapskate, I have always made do with what I found. my entire oeuvre is site-specific in that way, and reflects my location and circumstances and interests in time. please
explore and enjoy the tabs above, which naturally can only show a part of the whole.
Please note that I am not the Peter Cole born 1957, poet and translator. Nor am I
Peter Cole born 1930, the big wave rider. If you run into them, or another one, please say hi from