Undulata

Why this one exists

Plywood is an odd guest in a collection of salvaged trees, and that is exactly why I love it. Six or eight sheets of birch ply glued into a solid block and then carved, so that every cut reveals the lamination lines: contour lines on the map of a landscape that never existed. The first version was another artifact of my cautious years. I made it, was too afraid to refine it, and kept it where nobody would see it. Six months ago it went back on the bench and became this: flowing lines, a completely unusual silhouette, mid-century modern in its bones with something almost oceanic and floral moving through it, like a bloom opening underwater. Words keep only half-fitting this piece, which I have decided is the point. It deserves to be showcased, and it is openly crying out to be fondled. Yes, fondled. Go ahead. The lines feel even better than they look.

It stood here

No tree to mourn here: this one began as found plywood, six or eight sheets pressed into one block on the glue bench. The story is not where it grew but what the layers became once the carving revealed them. No pin for this one; its origin is an idea, not an address.

Every side of it