The wood turns on the lathe, much too fast to see anything save a hint of the shape, hiding inside. It’s a delicate dance, placing a piece of sharpened and hardened steel against that spinning form. The hum of the motor, the light catching the rising dust motes, and the background music, all fade as the wood begins to chip away. The form, at first rough, and then smoother, and smoother, the chips turning at last into long,friction warmed streamers. They cover my hand with that warmth. Piling up and up,cascading over onto the lathe, and then down to the floor.
This, is what motivates me. From that first simple bowl I turned on a lathe, I knew this was what I was meant to do. And going forward from a simple block of wood that formed that bowl, to more complex
forms. Learning new methods that involved seeing the form long before it was attached to the lathe. Cutting the wood into many small precise pieces, only to glue them together again. To form rings, and then to sand them smooth. To glue those rings together to form the desired shape. To turn that shape against the steel, and then to cut it again and again. To add here, and take away from there. To place
the many disparate pieces together, until at last that form, first seen in my mind’s eye, becomes real.
That, is the art that I do.