Wood is a medium that directly connects man with nature. I believe that this is the key to its appeal to so many of us.
For me, working in wood is a process of discovery. Each new project offers the chance to unlock the beauty that is hidden inside – from the swirl of grain to the irregularities of growth to imperfections of nature that make each piece of wood unique and irreproducible.
I find my wood in unlikely places, like dark, dusty barns and sheds where farmers have cut and stacked wood to air-dry. I often have to watch for snakes, spiders and other critters while searching for not the perfect piece of lumber, but rather the imperfect piece. Relying largely on Tennessee-area hardwoods, I look for the natural shapes, patterns of grain, the irregularity of live-edge lumber and washed-up driftwood – occasionally incorporating man-made objects that offer contrast and intrigue.
Over the years, I’ve learned the hard way that working with wood demands not only a critical balance of form and function, but also an understanding of the very “nature” of wood. As a medium, wood continues to breathe and move in response to its environment long after it has been cut, shaped and finished. The phrase “against the grain” exists in our everyday vocabulary because every woodworker has learned the hard way that wood has a mind of its own and that it never hesitates to remind him of this fact.
Each of my pieces tells a story through wood, attracting the eye and inviting the touch. I usually leave a small tool mark visible as a reminder that the piece was created, not by some mindless machine in a factory, but by a human being at a workbench.