

This rustic assemblage stages a quiet ritual of abundance: a lathe-turned wooden bowl cradles pale, egg-like forms while curved ribs rise around it like protective hands or petals. Set atop a cross of rough-hewn beams, the work balances refinement against raw grain, letting sunlight skim across polished surfaces and fall into the darker fissures of weathered timber. The composition reads as both altar and nestβan invocation of shelter, birth, and the fragile order we construct from salvaged matter. Its grounded, earthen palette and open-air placement fuse sculpture and landscape, suggesting a cycle of making that returns continuously to the soil.







