Charles "Chuck" Sale

New Work

2010-10-25T22:09:00.015-06:00

I am co-authoring two new books: one a fantasy novel, the other a handbook on corporate renewal. My previous two books dealt with religion.

The editor and ghost writer in me deals with what presents itself. I am a little superstitious about this. There are no accidents - that sort of thing.

Or maybe it is just a character flaw.

Sometimes I think I should discipline myself; narrow my endeavors; suppress, somewhat, my compulsion to deal with whatever presents itself. The novel I am working on tempts me in this way.

We shall see.

Fate is the hunter (my apologies to Ernest Gann).

Chuck Sale
Colorado Springs

To Pledge or Not To Claim

2010-06-30T21:06:00.017-06:00

Since release of The Biblical Roots of Mormonism, I have heard some talk of who is and who is not a Christian.

This topic has impeccable historical precedents. Discussion of it is regarded as high conversation in many religious and quasi-religious circles. However, these discussions invariably produce more heat than light. Indeed, in earlier times, conversations on this topic could became so heated that the prevailing disputant would conclude the matter by burning the other at the stake. This produced both heat and light, though not of the sort that philosophers and theologians profess to seek

I acknowledge the debate. I do not participate in it. I have no interest in the label.

I rarely call myself a Christian. This is because I am at best a Christian-in-the-making, not a completed Christian who can claim Christianity as a kind of achievement. I am not far enough along the path of Christianity to make any such claim. I am mildly uncomfortable around people who are fond of calling themselves Christians - or who claim to know who is and who is not a Christian. I am unqualified to make such judgments, and I work hard to remain so.

I am pledged to be a Christian, however. This is quite different from claiming to be one.

Claims require proofs, evidence, argument. These rise and fall. They are weighty, compelling, and loud in one moment and swept away like dust in the next.

A pledge is different. A pledge endures as long as duty, honor, faith and free will endure. A pledge does not derive from debate. A man's pledge rises and falls with the man, not with his circumstances. It cannot be taken away easily because it can hide deep in the heart, out of sight, waiting. It cannot be taken away easily because the valiant can exercise it swiftly, boldly, out in the open, before a despot can strangle it. Indeed, a simple pledge - sustained, repeated, passed from person to person, from generation to generation - can topple the mightiest tyranny.

A claim, on the other hand, can be toppled by a gossiper's whisper. It can be overturned by the revelation of a single lie or the discovery of a single truth. A claim is an advertisement for something; it is never the thing itself. While pledges may dip into the sea of gossip, lies, and so-called truths, they do not wallow in the tides of this sea. They are in a realm apart, operating above the ebb and flow of attitudes, opinions, data, and calculations.

Pledges are the wellspring of life, the source of all that takes place around them.

In the eternities, we are what we pledge, not what we claim.

A pledge that has deteriorated into a claim is rotten fruit. It should be discarded.

Chuck Sale
Colorado Springs

Out of the corner of my eye . . .

2010-06-12T16:50:00.004-06:00

A few days ago, I took my morning constitutional (known in Colorado as a hike) with my faithful friend, Rusty. This dog loves to hit the trail almost as much as he loves to eat, and I never have to arrange a time and a meet location or hear a long list of reasons why on this particular day or that, he is just too busy. He is never too busy. I just lift my hiking pants off their hanger in my closet, and he appears, tail wagging, deep brown eyes sending forth their message of hope and willingness. The call of the wild is always in him, as it is in me.

Wildflowers are emerging along the front range. Not big ones like those that form the lush colors of spring in the San Juans near Silverton and Ouray. Those are the stars of the wildflower theater. They strut across the pages of calendars and books, they glow brilliantly on computer screens, and they adorn the walls of plush offices. In contrast, the wildflowers in the mountains around Colorado Springs, where I live, are more modest. They wear understated garments, and live closer to the ground. There is more space between them. Their more robust siblings in southwestern Colorado yell the arrival of spring. My wildflowers whisper.

Rusty and I left the car and walked into the foothills of Mount Blodgett. In a small open space I know (that is as precise as I care to be on location), the subdued colors of spring appear reliably each year. A bit of attention is required to find this color. One must stare into the distance and then get close to the ground and listen with the eyes. I bring my camera to make a record and sometimes to capture an essence. I may venture for hours. I am enthralled by simple things.

When I returned home on this day, I began the usual work of post processing my images. I came close to deleting the one you see here. I got caught up in the technicalities. I had caused the depth of field (how much of the image is in focus) to be quite narrow. This was deliberate. In this case, however, I thought I had gone too far. Only the lower front of the blossom is in focus. The rest of the blossom is out of focus and much of the rest of the image is what artists call negative space. Too much negative space, I said to myself, and even the petals are fuzzy.

But I did not delete. I moved on to other images, the more technically pure ones, and finished them. Then I came back to this imperfect one. But I could not delete. I tinkered a bit, cut off the right side of the blossom, stretched the empty space, and saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I saw as I always see the best things, out of the corner of my eye. It was partial, the product of a glance. Perhaps you will see in the photograph how transitory and partial is our experience. And yet how beautiful in its incompleteness. There is no time to bring all things into perfect focus. To do so is to stagnate; we must move on from even the precious things.

This image breaks all the rules but one: It is true. There is a tiny area where things are clear; the rest is a passing blur. We move on. We must always move on.

I think that we are blessed when we find beauty in what is incomplete, partial, visible only as we pass by.

I saw this flower out of the corner of my eye.

Perhaps you will too.

Chuck Sale
June 12, 2010

Readers of The Biblical Roots of Mormonism

2010-06-10T13:31:00.013-06:00

Thank you for purchasing our new book and for sharing your kind and thoughtful insights. Eric and I hoped that this book would be well-received by Mormons and non-Mormons alike. Initial reactions suggest it has been and will continue to be.

NOTE: See my earlier posting for more on how and why the book was written. It is available now at book sellers worldwide.

During the writing of this book, it occurred to me that the diversity and multiplicity of biblical interpretations was evidence of the biblical authors' inspiration, not of their failure. Likewise, my prejudicial disdain of subsequent translators, transcribers, and interpreters fell away. Their work too was and is (in various ways and to various degrees) inspired, at least where the work is undertaken with pure intention and appropriate scholarship. We are all seekers, even those who claim to have found, once-and-for-all.

My hope is that you will discover through this book a Bible you may not have known, one that is truly the living word rather than a dead scroll. If you see in what we have called "Mormon roots" an interpretation that appears odd or even false, you are invited to pause. Then put the matter on the shelf. Read on. Come back to it later, or not at all. Read on. Read on. That is all any of us can do. Knowing once-and-for-all is highly overrated.

The Bible is no more than paper and cloth and ink until someone reads it, and, having read, looks up from the page and becomes something more than he or she was before the reading. The Bible lives through its readers and, more narrowly, through their striving to live according to its principles. I am little impressed with anyone's knowledge of the Bible (particularly my own), but much impressed with their striving to live by its teachings. Fine points of interpretation, while they must sometimes be addressed (and we did address more than a few in this book), are of little interest compared to the power of the Bible to change for the good how people live - whatever their interpretations may be.

This is not to say that I do not revere correct interpretations. I have my own, and I believe them to be correct. Nor is it to say that the Bible means whatever the reader says it means. The Bible is telling us something, and we must study and interpret and have faith to get at that something.

I hold the silly notion that the truth requires no interpretation. It is we who require interpretations to cozy up to the truth. Interpretations are tools that help us get along in our thinking. We should not be too taken with them. They can be capricious little critters, and may abandon us in our hour of greatest need. The wonder of an innocent child is to be preferred to the interpretations of the greatest philosopher. Jesus warned that unless we become like little children, there is little hope for us. I think he meant it.

I invite you to ignore these pontifications if they do not in some way inspire your reading. Publishers and book sellers tell me that readers want to know what authors were thinking when they wrote and what they are thinking after the book is published. I am not so sure. I think a book should stand on its own. Nevertheless, you now have a few of my thoughts.

Feel free to check in here from time to time, if you can stand it. My thoughts (and sometimes my interpretations) change without notice, even to me.

Chuck Sale
June 10, 2010

New Book Released

2010-06-04T21:49:00.004-06:00

The The Biblical Roots of Mormonism was a collaboration with Eric Shuster. The publisher, Cedar Fort, Inc., will release the book officially on June 8, 2010. However, it can be ordered now at Amazon.com, Borders, Barnes & Noble, and other booksellers. I also have a limited number of signed advance copies available for sale. These are $20 each. Feel free to contact me.

This new book explores the unique and often misunderstood relationship Mormons have with the Bible.

Eric and I spent more than two years on this project. There were many surprises along the way. For example, we expected to find that some, if not many, Mormon beliefs were beyond the biblical pale and thus entirely dependent on modern revelation (the Book of Mormon and other post-New Testament scripture). This expectation was not met. Nearly everywhere we turned, we found solid biblical support for Mormon doctrines and practice.

As our investigation unfolded, we summarized in plain English the various tenants embraced by nearly all Christians, followed these summaries with supporting biblical quotations, and then set against these summaries and quotations the beliefs and practices of the Mormons. Another surprise emerged from this arrangement of the evidence: The differences between Mormons and Christians of other denominations were not nearly so great as some staunch Mormons and some zealous anti-Mormons would have us believe. We found that the similarities were far more numerous than the differences.

Differences - significant ones - do exist. Nevertheless, our study, which we carefully documented in this book, revealed that Mormons hold a a biblically justified place in the mainstream of Christianity. It may be titillating to exaggerate Mormon interpretations, practices, and history, but this titillation grossly distorts the truth.

We invite you to buy the book and test our evidence and our findings for yourself. At the very least you will learn some surprising things about the Bible. If you are a Latter-day Saint, you may be surprised to discover the depth of your biblical roots. If you are not a Mormon, your reading of this book may give you knowledge about your Mormon neighbors (there are some 13 million of them) that is greater than the knowledge many of them have about themselves. We guarantee your conversations with Mormons will be far more lively and informed than in the past.

Enjoy.

Chuck Sale
4June2010

February in Colorado

2010-03-12T19:35:00.000-07:00

February is a cold month in Colorado Springs, and sometimes gray. But Colorado is not an enduringly gray place, even in winter. The clouds always threaten to part, and the sun always threatens to illuminate. Always there is change, variety, natural wonders coming and going.

Colorado Wildflowers

2010-03-12T19:22:00.003-07:00

Wildflowers appear modestly along the front range. But they do appear, and sometimes they provide a surprisingly rich visual feast. Some not-so-wild flowers also appear in the slideshow. I could not resist.

Artist Friends

2010-03-04T09:50:00.008-07:00

I am inspired by and sometimes collaborate with many other artists. Here are a few I am happy to introduce. I will introduce others in later posts.

Debbie Francis is an example of someone with a good eye (see above). She travels frequently as an IBM troubleshooter and takes along her little camera--nothing fancy, just a point-and-shoot. I do the post processing for her. Here is a street scene in Denmark, rendered as digital art.

Here is a slideshow of other images she got during her Denmark trip.

Check out the work of the others. My brother Greg is a skilled wildlife photographer.

For excellent instruction in art, particularly composition, visit Coni Grant's blog.

Chuck Sale || Colorado Springs, Colorado

Winter Doldrums

2009-01-14T19:14:00.004-07:00

Desperate Conditions

2008-12-31T20:03:00.024-07:00

27 December 2oo8. At a remove, desperate conditions can be desperately beautiful. In this picture of Pikes Peak, dangerously high winds are ripping shingles of snow and ice off the ridges and sucking debris out of the canyons. These conditions are harsh indeed for any mountaineer caught in them.

But from a vacant lot in a windless residential neighborhood miles away, there is no harshness, no danger. There is only the distant beauty of light on atomized snow, of shadows, and of the golden glow of peaceful patches of stillness on the foreground ridge.

Who then has the true experience: The mountaineer struggling against forces that threaten to overpower him and rob him of his vital heat? Or the aesthete looking on from afar, adjusting the brightness, contrast, saturation and other things for which the mountain has no name and in which the threatened mountaineer has no interest.

A wise man once said that a human being is a star's way of knowing itself. But if the human being approaches too close, his wings prove wax and melt, like those of Icarus, and the star knows itself no more.

There is a part of me that wishes to be intimate with violent elements. I have approached these elements and pulled back from them in my past, wings warped and singed but not melted away.

In the end there will be no pulling back.

Storm

2008-12-30T20:32:00.007-07:00

4 December 2008. Wind and snow pummel the little evergreen as it clings to its perch on the side of a sandstone cliff. The rock holds the tree in its cleft, gently, protectively, though with a restraint dictated by its rigidity. This is the rock's nature--to hold back, motionless, shaped slowly by wind and rain and time to a purpose it does not consider.

The tree will live a long life, but the rock will proceed at a pace that is glacial. The tree will come to an end long before the rock crumbles, but both will disappear in time, and appear again, elsewhere, in the twinkling of God's eye. We will, I think, be in both places, both times.

In the meantime, you and I look on, capture a moment like this, here and there, from time to time, and think much of ourselves. Foolish we are in a way that the tree and the rock are not. We struggle, while they obey. They do not strive uselessly. They do not rage against the darkness or press needlessly into the storm. They simply endure, according to their natures.

We do also, but with much opinion and manipulation, often lacking the dignity of a rock or a tree. Rocks and trees are not distracted by what we call a higher consciousness. We should consult them about our affliction. We might then learn something of our origin and our destination.

Old Tree

2008-12-15T21:51:00.011-07:00

For years, I have hiked this trail (left) past this old scrub oak (right) on my way to my dogs' graves and beyond them, up a canyon, to a tiny catch basin where running water can be found in all seasons. This location is known to a few. It is probably best for it to remain so.

This tree is really a collection of scrub oaks growing so close together that they appear as one, and so I call it a tree. They don't mind. They must be good friends to have survived so long and grown so large together. This is another example of the familiar, the close by that can be overlooked.

It was quite cold, but I had my camera and the lighting was right, and the sky and the old tree standing patiently in the snow near the crest of a hill.

Ute Valley, Colorado

2008-11-15T17:14:00.047-07:00

Ute Valley, 2 October 2008. I can be enthralled by the exotic, but I have an abiding affection for the familiar.

Familiar places, familiar sounds, familiar people--they whisper that I should soon be on my journey home. Knowing them so well--like the smell of cooking bacon--I can tell what has changed: the moved furniture, the broken wheel on a bike, the wearing off of paint, the lines that have formed in a face.

Today was a return to the familiar with my brother Greg, who had traveled a thousand miles to be here. I, on the other hand, live less than a mile from where these pictures were taken. My dogs and I know the place well, as do friends who live nearby. But they do not know this particular place, the place I saw on this particular morning with my particular brother at this particular time with my particular eyes.

This place, the one captured in these and other images, is already gone. It was mine for a brief time, marked by the repeating sound of a camera's shutter release. A piece of it disappeared with each press of my finger.

Perhaps this is what I love most about the still camera.

It stops time.

First Snow, Queen's Canyon

2008-11-14T09:12:00.012-07:00

Wednesday, 22 October 2008. This was my second exploration of the morning. It began with seeking out images of the light touch of snow in Garden of the Gods. The first snow of indian summer fell on Colorado Springs last night. I set out early, alone, to see what might remain of this mantle of white.

As it had been in the Garden, mine were the only footprints in Queen's Canyon; I was the first human visitor over the fresh snow. It was cold, and I took careful steps in the many stream crossings that were required to reach the falls and beyond.

Autumn and winter were greeting one another. Leaves of the deciduous trees and shrubs had fallen into the stream. They were gathering together on the downstream side of pools.

About an hour into the canyon, a young man carrying a Bible caught up with me. We became companions. We discussed photography and his upcoming mission to Haiti as we threaded our way over rocks and stream and fallen trees. His name was Steve. I took one picture of him. He was pondering from a high perch above the falls. I hope he will be safe in Haiti; it is a dangerous place.

Small things stood out this morning, and they became my dominant subjects.

First Snow, Garden of the Gods

2008-11-14T08:57:00.009-07:00

Wednesday, 22 October 2008. The first snow of indian summer fell on Colorado Springs today. I set out early, alone, to see what might remain of this mantle of white in the Garden of the Gods, before the morning sun warmed it off the rocks.

Mine were the only footprints in the Garden. It was cold, mostly due to wind chill: My mittens came on immediately after each shoot, and I took careful steps over hard surfaces where beads of ice had formed overnight.

Autumn and winter were greeting one another. The snowfall had been light, and the leaves of the deciduous trees and shrubs were just passing through their peak of color. Indian summer was bowing out gracefully.

I have seen beautiful pictures of the Garden in winter, but I do not remember having seen pictures of so light a touch of snow as I saw and photographed this morning. There is no place on earth where I would rather have been. I hope my work conveys some of this joy to you.

2008-11-13T10:58:00.055-07:00

Still-life Arrangements

2008-10-17T16:40:00.020-06:00

My wife and I have long been a creative team. Teri is skilled in matte-cutting and custom mounting and framing of fine art photography. She is also a master stain-glass worker and an excellent oil painter, designer, and colorist. I am an oil painter, watercolorist, and fine art photographer.

In recent years, Teri and I found ourselves receiving a growing number of invitations to weddings and other celebrations where a gift was expected. We decided that selecting a typical piece of fine art was risky, since tastes differ widely. We scoured the gift shops. We considered simply using the registries. Nothing seemed right.

We wanted to give gifts that were uniquely personal, gifts that would be cherished for a lifetime. Teri conceived of the still-life arrangements to enable us to do this.

These arrangements of still-life images symbolizing a name or expression of commitment were a huge hit. We began receiving letters of heartfelt gratitude for gifts that would be cherished for generations.

Word spread. Friends and friends of friends began asking to buy these heirlooms to hang in their own homes or to give to others. We obliged, happily.

Now we have made these custom art pieces available to the public. We create the still-life images; combine them to form the symbolic statement; and then matte, mount, and frame them. We sign the matte before mounting it behind glass in a sealed frame. Finally, we package and ship to the buyer.

Because each symbolic statement is handmade in this way, orders usually must be received well in advance. Contact Chuck Sale Photography directly for information on prices, ordering, and delivery. See Contact Info.

Chuck Sale
Chuck Sale Photography
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Other Lights

2008-09-27T13:43:00.018-06:00

My brother, Greg Sale, often joins me in journeys to places where special rewards await the attentive photographer. He will be arriving in Colorado Springs next week, and we will search for fall color in the Colorado Rockies.

We have spent many happy days creating images in Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park near Moab, Utah. We kayaked together down the Colorado River in that vicinity last year. Greg's rented kayak nearly sank after taking on water so slowly through a hole in the stern that we did not notice until it was almost too late. We should have been paying more attention to our paddling and less to our photography.

I invite you to visit Greg Sale Photography. This delightful look into the blossom of a flower is Greg's.

Landscape Photographer of the Year

2008-09-19T07:53:00.007-06:00

TimesOnline (London Times newspaper) has announced the Landscape Photographer of the Year.

Chuck Sale
Chuck Sale Photography
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Influences

2008-09-18T14:07:00.012-06:00

Many people influence the course of one's life. The people who have influenced mine cannot be named, not because I have forgotten them, but because they are numberless and in many cases entered and left before I could know a name.

Three people stand out in the niche where I developed as a graphic artist and, eventually, a photographer: They are Coni Grant, Charles Movalli, and Don Sahli. There were others, and I apologize for omitting their names here. These three, however, deserve special acknowledgement.

Coni Grant resides and maintains a studio in Alamosa, Colorado. Her paintings are delightful celebrations of color. I began my study with her. We still collaborate sometimes, she as a painter and I as a photographer--searching out places to paint and photograph in Colorado.

Charles Movalli is the second major influence. He taught tempo and spontaniety and joy in painting. He is famous for his wise counsel on art and life as well as for his fine paintings. My time as his student was brief, but the benefits from his teaching will last a lifetime.

Don Sahli lives and maintains a studio and school in Evergreen, Colorado. He took great pains to improve my skills as an oil painter, and he expanded my ability to see and interpret out of the ordinary. His fine work can be found in many prestigious art galleries.

People do not invent themselves. We are all collections of influences that we sculpt, hopefully, into something unique. I think it is important to acknowledge these influences as one might cite a source in a footnote. Until then the sculpting can be hesitant or distorted. Or it might not occur at all.

Chuck Sale
Chuck Sale Photography
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Originality

2008-09-15T09:07:00.020-06:00

Colorado Springs, Colorado, where I live, offers many outdoor photography opportunities. Perhaps too many. Little thought or effort is required to find a beautiful setting to record, and the temptation is to shoot away, hoping for an artistic accident. Trouble is, everyone is shooting away at the same beautiful settings with the same hope. This glut of scenic beauty (and photographers recording it) presents a unique challenge to the Colorado landscape photographer: How does one create anything original in such an environment?

For example, not much original work is coming out of the Garden of the Gods. Particularly since the dawn of digital, the number of images produced in this Colorado Springs park must number in the millions. You cannot visit a drug store or supermarket or gift shop or any commercial establishment without being treated to a dozen pictures of the place--on postcards, greeting cards, mugs, you-name-it.

I do not lament this photographic commercialization of the park. In fact, the glut of park images presents a unique challenge to originality, one I welcome.

There are some who meet this challenge head-on. Colorado Springs photographer Charlie Lehman is one. I invite you to visit his web site, Travels with Charlie, to see for yourself. Charlie has not abandoned Garden of the Gods. He has gone into it at special times and under special conditions to produce uniquely evocative images of the place. See his photographs of winter in the Garden of the Gods, for example. This image in particular stands out for its originality.

You can see my own efforts in the Garden by clicking here or on the image at the beginning of this article.

Greg Sale, my brother, has found opportunities for some stunning wildlife work in the San Gabriel Valley of Southern California, a place not known as a hotbed of wildlife photography. He recently opened his online studio, Greg Sale Photography. Take particular note of his avian photography. You see ordinary birds photographed a million times by (probably) as many people. But Greg has applied his extraordinary skill as an observer and photographer to make his bird images extraordinary. This bird photograph in particular stands out. Likewise, this photograph of very un-bird-like creatures.

New Zealand is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Go there when you can. Take beautiful pictures. But in the meantime, carefully explore your own back yard. You might find some delightful surprises there.

Chuck Sale
Chuck Sale Photography
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Biography

2008-09-09T11:45:00.048-06:00

PHOTOGRAPHY. Like all children, I was taught to substitute words for what they describe; images for what they depict; and numbers for what they quantify. It was impressed upon me that success, even survival, depended on my skill in making and interpreting these substitutions.

The camera seemed to perform all these substitutions with the click of a button. It does not really do this, but in my childhood understanding it seemed to, and in this seeming was born my fascination with photography.

My first camera was a simple black box. With it, I went about making photographic analogs of my mother and father, my friends, and out-of-focus bugs and ducks and dogs. That is how it began, without art or poetry.

Photography did not become my vocation. I went on to a career in law enforcement, and spent 30 years in the Los Angeles Police Department. Incidental to my duties as a police officer, I took occasional photographs of people and objects. For evidence. More substitution. No art, no poetry. Just the facts.

In 1975, I began mountaineering, and the camera seemed essential for capturing the beauty of high places. My tools were primitive by today's standards. My best work remained essentially accidental. But there was some art in it, a hint of poetry.

I later drifted into fine art, particularly watercolor and oil painting. And I learned to play the cello. Photography receded into the background as I practiced these more elemental forms of artistic expression.

The emergence of digital photography coincided with my development as a painter--and with my mounting frustration over the relatively sedentary nature of work with brush, paint, canvas, and paper. Photography once more came into my artistic foreground.

My work in oil and watercolor turned out to be the best possible preparation for applying the digital tools that were becoming available to photographers. As I stepped away from the activity of painting, I sensed that the discipline of the brush had embedded something in me, something that caused me to see the camera in a new way. Fewer of my photographs were accidents. My photography was becoming intentional.

Particularly in the matter of composition, the camera had been too easy on me. It allowed me to get something, some record of the beauty of a place, even when my composition and camera skills were weak. The painter's brush offers no such consolation. It gives the artist nothing at all, not even a coarse record, when its strict demands are not met.

John Stobart, a respected painter and teacher of fine art, admonishes his students that artistry lies not in the hand, but in the eye. Without the "seeing" of the artist, the brush and the camera are worse than useless. I had to learn the rigorous simplicity of the brush to discover that the camera, despite its technological complexity, is no different. I was then no longer satisfied with photographic accidents, however beautiful they might be.

My wife and I form a creative team. Teri is skilled in mat-cutting and custom mounting and framing of fine art photography. She is also a master stain-glass worker and an excellent oil painter, designer, and colorist.

We are currently collaborating in the still-life arrangements described elsewhere in this blog. The project is her conception. We create still-life images; combine them to form a symbolic statement; and then mat, mount, and frame them. We sign the mat before mounting it behind glass in a sealed frame. Finally, we package and ship to the buyer. Contact Chuck Sale directly for information on prices, ordering, and delivery. See Contact Info.

Teri also does mounting and framing of the limited editions of my work, and consults with clients on custom mounting and framing issues.

WRITING AND EDITING. I began freelance writing during my 30-year career in the Los Angeles Police Department. Writing and editing skills opened doors to an uncommon diversity of special assignments, which were interspersed with work as a street cop, investigator, and field supervisor. These special assignments included hosting a weekly public-service program for KABC radio, speech writing for the chief of police, and writing or editing innumerable government publications.

I earned a bachelor’s degree in English from California State University at Los Angeles, and was a curriculum developer and instructor at the Los Angeles Police Academy, a teacher at Glendale College, a proofreader for the Los Angeles Times, and an editorial advisor to doctoral candidates at the California Institute of Technology and Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena.

Over the years, I authored, co-authored, or edited many books and articles, including, most recently, Catholic Roots, Mormon Harvest (Cedar Fort, 2009) and The Biblical Roots of Mormonism (to be released by Cedar Fort in June 2010). The Biblical Roots of Mormonism is available for pre-release discount ordering at Amazon.com.

I am the father of five children and the grandfather of seven. My wife, Teri, and I make our home in Colorado Springs, Colorado.