Later, the vegetation, especially the buried forests, the color of the sand, the sand itself, the cloud patterns, and the sea were all to influence him. As a child I remember seeing mounted pieces of driftwood which were displayed in our "sculpture garden." I also remember gathering up driftwood and helping Boris construct huge sculptures which served as the bonfire centerpieces for his annual "August full of the moon" parties. These were enormous gatherings of hundreds of people who came to the back shore to dance, sing, read poetry, and, as the night wore on, engage in other bachanalian activities. Boris enlivened these parties with his recitation of the poetry of Mayakovsky and demonstration of a singing voice that could break glass.

Boris' ability to use what nature or man discarded to create objects of beauty remains one of the central forces that motivate his work. He always took pride in finding "junk" like pieces of celluoid which when dissolved, could be poured, carved, and manipulated. This ultimately developed into the Cellocut, a unique procedure, and one of the forerunners of the collograph and the high relief printmaking so popular today. He always told me to "look down" when I walked so that I could find wonderful discards. In this way Boris constantly transmuted the habits of his early poverty in Russia into the gold of his art; and I was priviledged to tag along as witness to this continuous process of discovery, invention, and transformation.