Everyone has that place that makes them happy...
For my husband it is Harbor Freight and my son would happily move into Game Stop if we let him. Me? I get the warm and fuzzies for Wood Crafters.
This is the place where my sculptures begin. Usually, there is an idea that has me searching for the perfect base. This weekend it was the other way around. I was rummaging through every gorgeous piece of wood in the show room when I spotted them. Two small fragments of board; each with a large knot piercing a hole through the wood.
The grain was marred and rustic. Rough bark lined the inside of the knots.
They. Were. Beautiful.
I picked them up, examining each fabulous flaw. Turning them over I read the label. "Locust: Honey" Now, I have no idea what honey locust is but I did know these pieces were going home with me.
I've said before that pieces speak to me. It is usually as a sculpture or painting is coming to life. I can hear it whisper to me. I looked at my growing stack of wood. Ebony, marbled hardwood, padauk...each beautiful and perfect. Not even a mumble. Glancing again at the rough cut honey locust, they screamed.
That's right. These ragged pieces of wood have asked...no.... demanded to be little boys fishing.
As I work to finish my current pieces, I can hear the boys (as I now refer to them) calling my name. Impatient little scraps of wood. Tonight I will stock up on sealant and soon, very soon, these boys will get the attention they are craving.
I'm a bit nervous. I've never sculpted boys before. Not sure how they will turn out.
What I do know is that my happy place has never made me happier.