Howling
This Tawa bowl started as just a small blank, nothing planned, and as I turned it, the grain revealed itself in the most amazing way. It moves and twists like wind, flowing across the surface as if caught in motion.
It sits on a rock I found on a slow day on the Wairarapa coast. The wind was howling that day sideways, offshore, pushing across the beach, but it wasn’t harsh, just raw and alive. I remember running down between the waves to grab the rock from the shoreline, and it felt like the two of them belonged together. The rock, slightly tilted, green with veins, upright enough to hold the bowl, seemed to echo the energy of the wind.
Together, they remind me of those moments when nature moves around you, when the air, the water, the stones, and even the grain of a piece of timber all seem to tell the same story. There’s beauty in the movement, in the imperfection, in the way the world can be both powerful and peaceful at once. And sometimes, all it takes is slowing down to notice it.
Howling
This Tawa bowl started as just a small blank, nothing planned, and as I turned it, the grain revealed itself in the most amazing way. It moves and twists like wind, flowing across the surface as if caught in motion.
It sits on a rock I found on a slow day on the Wairarapa coast. The wind was howling that day sideways, offshore, pushing across the beach, but it wasn’t harsh, just raw and alive. I remember running down between the waves to grab the rock from the shoreline, and it felt like the two of them belonged together. The rock, slightly tilted, green with veins, upright enough to hold the bowl, seemed to echo the energy of the wind.
Together, they remind me of those moments when nature moves around you, when the air, the water, the stones, and even the grain of a piece of timber all seem to tell the same story. There’s beauty in the movement, in the imperfection, in the way the world can be both powerful and peaceful at once. And sometimes, all it takes is slowing down to notice it.
