The Afterlife of Urban Trees
I make one-of-a-kind wooden bowls, platters and boxes, and the wood itself is a strong collaborator in my work. Even if I have a clear image of what I plan to make, the wood always has a say in it, and sometimes the deciding vote. Every piece of wood is different; it’s a glorious, eternally variable medium and a lifetime isn’t enough to learn how to understand it.
I see my work as a way of connecting people with the trees that the bowls are made from. Through my hands a tree derives a second phase of existence as part of someone’s daily life. The facets left by my knife, or the smooth sanded surfaces that my hands and eyes have touched, will in turn be touched and held by who knows how many sets of hands and generations of owners. I like to think of that thread of connection, that perhaps in a couple of hundred years someone will hold an old wooden bowl and tell their grandkids to take good care of it “because it was my grandma’s favorite bowl.” I like to wonder how far those trees will travel in their new forms.
When a tree comes down it’s often seen as a nuisance, something to be gotten rid of, but every tree can contain treasures.  Almost everything I make is from locally harvested yard or street trees, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to transform wood that otherwise would become firewood or mulch into durable and beautiful objects for everyday use.