Applewood dries with drama. It twists, it cracks, it tests your patience… and rewards it. Tria is carved from the same rescued St. Vital apple tree as Tidepool, but where the wood split, I leaned in. Rather than disguise the fractures, I filled them with brass, a gilded kintsugi, metal poured where tension once tore.
Its triangular form echoes the geometry of growth and rupture, a shape that refuses symmetry but settles into balance. The grain wraps around each edge like a topographical map, warm and wild.
This isn’t perfection. It’s resilience, alloyed with intention.
Applewood dries with drama. It twists, it cracks, it tests your patience… and rewards it. Tria is carved from the same rescued St. Vital apple tree as Tidepool, but where the wood split, I leaned in. Rather than disguise the fractures, I filled them with brass, a gilded kintsugi, metal poured where tension once tore.
Its triangular form echoes the geometry of growth and rupture, a shape that refuses symmetry but settles into balance. The grain wraps around each edge like a topographical map, warm and wild.
This isn’t perfection. It’s resilience, alloyed with intention.
