![N00DLE [ made ]](http://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/69dea82dd2729579982612a2/7f21f7df-2712-4491-a130-e6f8db5f4c4d/Screenshot+2026-04-14+12.58.58+PM.png?format=1500w)
It began as a quiet tribute to the rushing waters of the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie. The materials themselves feel born of the valley: a block of pale, tight-grained wood—perhaps a piece of windfall reclaimed from the damp forest floor—and a heavy, river-tumbled stone.
The rock is the anchor. It is a smooth dome of dark basalt, banded by a jagged vein of quartz. It spent millennia in the icy, churning currents, shaped by the relentless push of glacial runoff until it was plucked from the shallow eddies. It brings the cold, grounding weight of the river indoors.
Above it floats the fish. Carved with broad, deliberate strokes, its flanks still bear the textured memory of the blade. It isn't sanded to a lifeless, manufactured perfection; it is raw and poised. But the true spirit of the sculpture lies in the brass wire that connects the wood to the stone. Coiled tightly at the base, the spring turns a static carving into a creature of restless energy.
When a sudden draft moves through the room or a hand gently brushes the wood, the tension in the brass is released. The carved trout suddenly dives and weaves. It blurs into motion, fighting an invisible current. It thrums on its tether, perfectly capturing the frantic, muscular kick of a wild fish darting through the crystalline waters of the Middle Fork.
Though it rests on a dry surface, far from the dappled light of the forest canopy and the roar of the mountain rapids, it refuses to be entirely still. It is a captured moment of wildness, forever swimming upstream against the quiet air of the room.
fir, brass & granite
2 × 4 × 6”h
It began as a quiet tribute to the rushing waters of the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie. The materials themselves feel born of the valley: a block of pale, tight-grained wood—perhaps a piece of windfall reclaimed from the damp forest floor—and a heavy, river-tumbled stone.
The rock is the anchor. It is a smooth dome of dark basalt, banded by a jagged vein of quartz. It spent millennia in the icy, churning currents, shaped by the relentless push of glacial runoff until it was plucked from the shallow eddies. It brings the cold, grounding weight of the river indoors.
Above it floats the fish. Carved with broad, deliberate strokes, its flanks still bear the textured memory of the blade. It isn't sanded to a lifeless, manufactured perfection; it is raw and poised. But the true spirit of the sculpture lies in the brass wire that connects the wood to the stone. Coiled tightly at the base, the spring turns a static carving into a creature of restless energy.
When a sudden draft moves through the room or a hand gently brushes the wood, the tension in the brass is released. The carved trout suddenly dives and weaves. It blurs into motion, fighting an invisible current. It thrums on its tether, perfectly capturing the frantic, muscular kick of a wild fish darting through the crystalline waters of the Middle Fork.
Though it rests on a dry surface, far from the dappled light of the forest canopy and the roar of the mountain rapids, it refuses to be entirely still. It is a captured moment of wildness, forever swimming upstream against the quiet air of the room.
fir, brass & granite
2 × 4 × 6”h