![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)
Hewn from the silent memory of a tree, the wood curves like an earthen cliff, its grain a topography of forgotten winds and slow-moving years.
It leans heavy—a sculpted precipice suspended in the warm light.
Beneath this sweeping overhang lies a stark contrast: a narrow valley planted with golden thorns.
Small, brassy spires rise from the lower ridge like the gleaming teeth of a quiet, patient jaw.
There is a frozen tension in the frame— the organic, whorled warmth of the timber poised intimately above the cold, sharp bite of metal. It is a landscape of waiting, where the softness of the forest meets the rigid edge of the anvil.
cedar & brass
6 × 2 × 4h
Hewn from the silent memory of a tree, the wood curves like an earthen cliff, its grain a topography of forgotten winds and slow-moving years.
It leans heavy—a sculpted precipice suspended in the warm light.
Beneath this sweeping overhang lies a stark contrast: a narrow valley planted with golden thorns.
Small, brassy spires rise from the lower ridge like the gleaming teeth of a quiet, patient jaw.
There is a frozen tension in the frame— the organic, whorled warmth of the timber poised intimately above the cold, sharp bite of metal. It is a landscape of waiting, where the softness of the forest meets the rigid edge of the anvil.
cedar & brass
6 × 2 × 4h