This piece began as firewood. Applewood rescued from a backyard burn pile in St. Vital. Where rot or time had hollowed out the heart, I poured in blue resin, not to hide the wound, but to make it sing.
The result is Tidepool: a quiet convergence of warmth and clarity. The honey-toned grain holds a fluid drop of translucent blue, like a pocket of sky trapped in wood, or a still pool left behind by retreating waves.
More than a vessel, it’s a meditation on restoration. A reminder that what’s broken can still hold beauty, and sometimes more than before.
This piece began as firewood. Applewood rescued from a backyard burn pile in St. Vital. Where rot or time had hollowed out the heart, I poured in blue resin, not to hide the wound, but to make it sing.
The result is Tidepool: a quiet convergence of warmth and clarity. The honey-toned grain holds a fluid drop of translucent blue, like a pocket of sky trapped in wood, or a still pool left behind by retreating waves.
More than a vessel, it’s a meditation on restoration. A reminder that what’s broken can still hold beauty, and sometimes more than before.
