Held to One Side
This bowl started a long time ago, turned from a piece of swamp kauri that had been sitting around for who knows how many centuries before it ever found a lathe. I made it a while back, and then it just sat around waiting.
The rock came later. Found it down on the South Wairarapa coastline, right on the edge of the breakers. One of those days where the wind is howling through everything and the sea is loud. Pale, white-green, flat on top, nothing dramatic, just honest. I carried it home without really knowing why.
Somewhere along the line, the two pieces came together. The bowl doesn’t sit square in the centre, it sits off to one side, like it’s listening to something outside the frame. The grain is quiet, almost holding its breath.
And so that’s where this piece comes from a long wait, a calm bit of timber, a pale coastal stone, and the feeling that not everything needs to be balanced to stand true. Sometimes being held to one side is exactly enough.
Held to One Side
This bowl started a long time ago, turned from a piece of swamp kauri that had been sitting around for who knows how many centuries before it ever found a lathe. I made it a while back, and then it just sat around waiting.
The rock came later. Found it down on the South Wairarapa coastline, right on the edge of the breakers. One of those days where the wind is howling through everything and the sea is loud. Pale, white-green, flat on top, nothing dramatic, just honest. I carried it home without really knowing why.
Somewhere along the line, the two pieces came together. The bowl doesn’t sit square in the centre, it sits off to one side, like it’s listening to something outside the frame. The grain is quiet, almost holding its breath.
And so that’s where this piece comes from a long wait, a calm bit of timber, a pale coastal stone, and the feeling that not everything needs to be balanced to stand true. Sometimes being held to one side is exactly enough.
