![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)
The base of this sculpture is a solid block of timber, cut at a stark angle to reveal a mesmerizing, topographical map of tight, concentric growth rings. These lines are the slow, recorded memory of the Pacific Northwest—decades of heavy rainfall, coastal fog, and brief, bright summers etched into the very grain of the wood. It is an anchor born of the earth, holding the sweeping arcs of time within its geometry.
Suspended above this wooden landscape, a small school of carved fish waits in a state of coiled anticipation. They bear the same rough-hewn, deliberate tool marks as the others, their flanks raw and unpolished. But here, they are not solitary travelers. They form a distinct pod, inextricably linked by proximity and purpose, angled together as if navigating the exact same invisible current.
When the air shifts or a hand gently grazes them, the brass springs awaken, and the true nature of the piece reveals itself. The static wood blurs into a frantic, synchronized rhythm. They dive, weave, and vibrate as one collective mind. The long-exposure captures what the quiet moments conceal: the sheer kinetic vitality of the school, violently kicking their tails against the air.
Hovering over the swirling grain of their wooden anchor, the rings below them suddenly transform. They no longer look just like the inside of a tree; they become the sweeping ripples of a disturbed pond, or the swirling eddies of a riverbed seen through clear, shallow water. Though entirely landlocked and tethered to the forest floor, the school is endlessly swimming—a captured echo of wild migration, forever charting its course over the timeless rings of the wood.
fir, brass & cedar
4 × 4 × 6”h
The base of this sculpture is a solid block of timber, cut at a stark angle to reveal a mesmerizing, topographical map of tight, concentric growth rings. These lines are the slow, recorded memory of the Pacific Northwest—decades of heavy rainfall, coastal fog, and brief, bright summers etched into the very grain of the wood. It is an anchor born of the earth, holding the sweeping arcs of time within its geometry.
Suspended above this wooden landscape, a small school of carved fish waits in a state of coiled anticipation. They bear the same rough-hewn, deliberate tool marks as the others, their flanks raw and unpolished. But here, they are not solitary travelers. They form a distinct pod, inextricably linked by proximity and purpose, angled together as if navigating the exact same invisible current.
When the air shifts or a hand gently grazes them, the brass springs awaken, and the true nature of the piece reveals itself. The static wood blurs into a frantic, synchronized rhythm. They dive, weave, and vibrate as one collective mind. The long-exposure captures what the quiet moments conceal: the sheer kinetic vitality of the school, violently kicking their tails against the air.
Hovering over the swirling grain of their wooden anchor, the rings below them suddenly transform. They no longer look just like the inside of a tree; they become the sweeping ripples of a disturbed pond, or the swirling eddies of a riverbed seen through clear, shallow water. Though entirely landlocked and tethered to the forest floor, the school is endlessly swimming—a captured echo of wild migration, forever charting its course over the timeless rings of the wood.
fir, brass & cedar
4 × 4 × 6”h