The Gallery Wants Production Not Patience
The gallery wants twelve bowls by spring. I make one a week if the wood cooperates. I rushed a piece. It cracked in the kiln room humidity. Patience is not a...
The gallery wants twelve bowls by spring. I make one a week if the wood cooperates. I rushed a piece. It cracked in the kiln room humidity. Patience is not a...
My father died two years ago. I found a blank of teak he had set aside. It smelled like his shop. My hands shook on the gouge. The bowl is imperfect. It sits...
A woodturner leaves a natural void in a mesquite bowl rather than filling it — and finds that absence can be the most honest part of what remains.