Page 4 Pennsylvania, 1996 - present In 1996, Hardesty and Cundiff left New York. "It's nearly impossible to live off art-making in New York. I sold few installations; but mostly selling the preparatory drawings and freelancing graphic design kept me going. I was offered some percent-for-art public outdoor artworks, but the restrictions were insane. The main criterion being that they were first and foremost, vandalism-proof and maintenance-free. I was shortlisted to design big budget pieces for the 1996 Olympic opening ceremonies. I offered to create a giant rainbow over the stadium with misted water and searchlights, but concerns like 'Atlanta is too humid as it is' killed that. I tried another. Instead of lighting the torch directly, I suggested the last runner go to the opposite end of the stadium and light a stainless steel trough of petrol that encircled the top of the stadium, so the flame would "travel" to the torch... like a flame 'wave'. I thought that would be very kinetic, dramnatic. But safety concerns killed any serious consideration before they even had a chance to be addressed." So, that could have given me a lot of money, but it didn't work out. "It's too restrictive to do the ideas I have, alfresco. It's no wonder to me now why public spaces end up with big chunks of immobile steel. It's about all you can do under the restrictions." "Also, a factor in moving to PA was that my studio rent doubled to $4000 a month. With the near $2,000 a month for loft rent, it just gets to be too much overhead. So, Sandy and I took our savings and built a new home/studio in northwest Pennsylvania. Doing that has slowed art-making down a bit, but I still manage a nice show about once a year." I asked Hardesty if he had any more to say about his work. He confessed a personal problem he has with his installations that had never occurred to this writer. Usually, Hardesty does not assemble the completed piece in his studio before exhibiting it. He gets the gallery dimensions and creates the components. They are assembled for the first time in the gallery. In other words, his installations are site-specific. So, his very first viewing of the completed piece is in the museum or gallery itself, on opening night. I assumed then, that his problem was that he doesn't know if his piece "works" of not (in every sense of the word) until opening night. But he says no, that's not it. He is completly confortable in his ability there. His problem is more personal than that. "Opening night is not only my very first viewing of the piece, it's also usually my last viewing of it." "Artists often spend more time with their artworks than anyone. But installation artists probably get to spend LESS time with their own pieces than anyone else. I experience my completed piece for a few hours at the opening night, often under the worst conditions (a crowded room) and that's it. The next time I see it, it's being delivered back to my studio in pieces." "It's kind of sad not to get to spend more time with my own creations. It's months of hard work, followed by a brief sense of accomplishment." "But, I guess, much of life is that way, isn't it? Lot's of hard work followed by fleeting satisfaction of a job well done. And art after all is not about fulfilling the artist's needs, it's an attempt to contribute to humanity's needs. On balance, I'm content devoting my life to making any small contribution I can to promote human understanding. E N D S.L. Williams, New York, NY   This concludes the "Biography" section.