When I started carving I did not trust myself with thin walls, so I made a set I called the structural bowls: heavy, wide-walled, deliberately chunky, because mass forgives mistakes. This was one of them. It went to markets and galleries and came home every time. Now the series is being reshaped one piece at a time, and this one came off the bench spiky, almost violent, a claw where a fist used to be. The carving opened a big hole in the form, and I filled it with blue resin: a window straight through the old caution. It is cut from the same St. Boniface maple as its textural sibling in this collection.
The same maple as the 12-inch textural piece: a front-yard salvage in St. Boniface, a few streets south of the golf course, traded to me by the homeowner for the promise of a bowl carved from her own tree. One knock on a door, and the tree became a whole family of pieces.
One of one. When it is gone, it is gone. Leave your details and Sean will reply personally, usually the same day.