This Cherry once stood in a backyard in River Park South. After a storm split one of its large limbs, the bough was cut and left for firewood. I rescued it… and found a sculpture waiting inside.
I carved this teardrop form by feel, letting the natural grain guide the final form. It shimmers with movement and memory.
A crack runs down the centre, a remnant of the storm. I chose to keep it. That tension between polished surface and open fracture speaks of beauty not in spite of imperfection, but because of it.
This Cherry once stood in a backyard in River Park South. After a storm split one of its large limbs, the bough was cut and left for firewood. I rescued it… and found a sculpture waiting inside.
I carved this teardrop form by feel, letting the natural grain guide the final form. It shimmers with movement and memory.
A crack runs down the centre, a remnant of the storm. I chose to keep it. That tension between polished surface and open fracture speaks of beauty not in spite of imperfection, but because of it.
