Welcome to my new home page. We're just getting started, so this is a work in progress. Please bear with us, and come back to see how we're doing. We plan to add gallery pages, and eventually to enable a shopping cart feature so that you can buy my art online. In the meantime, please enjoy the images we've placed here. If you would like to contact me, email me at linda@lkwireart.com.

Born out of the fluid possibilities of copper wire, my wire art captures the whimsy of a simple doodle, with a breath of movement in every piece.

The easily bent 14-gauge wire (the lower the number, the thicker the wire) is perfect for small pieces and those which are coiled to create bulk. The horse and rider are made from 14-gauge wire.

I use the sturdier 12-gauge wire for many of my musical pieces, such as the bass player.

I've been working with wire since I made my first mobile in the sixties with wire shapes and plastic film. Over the years I have played with different gauge wire and different techniques, finally settling on the lyrical doodle — the whimsy captured in wire. In Don Quixote, catch the dreamer; in the tricycle, the play. I hope you enjoy seeing the art as much as I enjoyed creating it.

My other passion is housing for people who are homeless. For the past twenty years I have worked to end homelessness — first for individuals and now in the system.

In my ministry as an Episcopal priest I have the privilege of preaching and celebrating in an urban parish in Washington, D.C.: St. Stephen and the Incarnation.

My partner, Liane Rozzell, and I live in Arlington, Virginia and have two sons and two dogs.

In almost two decades of working with homeless individuals, I have seen the move from building more shelters to the intention of ending homelessness. Ten percent of all profits from my wire art will be sent to programs designed to support this movement — both to support individuals and to change policies locally and nationally. For more about ending homelessness, visit the web site of the National Alliance to End Homelessness.