Quiet but not silent. That is my aim and perhaps daily challenge.
In a long conversation, you don't need to get everything out all at once. A piece of furniture that will be a part of your home for a while doesn't need to shout, nor should it. My goal – be it an old piece created long ago or more recently with my hands, is a piece that presents itself gradually, revealing clues and quirks in bits. It should be a nice fit at first, but also something you grow into. A pleasant enough introduction that grows into a warm, quiet friendship. Something that is just simply nice to be around.
In the Japanese culture there is a term, “Shibui”, which equates to a simple, subtle, and unobtrusive beauty. It also implies a simplicity that overlays a deeper complexity which reveals itself gradually to the viewer over time.
My work is not a conscious embrace of this philosophy but is definitely guided by the idea. Perhaps a realization of a much broader direction that I have followed for quite a while. Truth has a way of doing that.
Another Japanese concept, “wabi sabi”, fits in with my work. It's the notion of the bitter-sweet melancholy associated with the impermanence of life. Think of it as the beauty imparted by age, and even decay. A tumbled-down rock wall in the woods, a weathered barn, a rusting tractor. For me it means that a piece must age gracefully. That the state of newness is not necessarily the ideal, but just a temporary blip on its timeline. The ornamentation in my work comes mostly from the joinery itself, the strength and beauty of the piece entwined with one another. And where you can see two pieces connecting, you can typically feel it as well, the eye and hand also entwined.
It is such a privilege to follow this path.
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