I’ve always been an artist at heart, yet my love of learning led me to become a teacher, principal and superintendent of education. I loved the students and the work — and I’d like to think that I brought creativity to it — but being a practicing artist was not something I was able to do simultaneously. However, I knew that when I retired and when time would become my own, I would turn to the artist within to take me through the next chapter of my life. And so, I did.
Although I enjoyed painting and had previously taken courses in printmaking and drawing, it was three-dimensional art that was pulling me in. Being surrounded by trees, wood seemed like a natural and readily available medium. But, never having carved before, I didn’t know where to begin. One thing I was sure of was the need for proper instruction in the safe handling of various mechanical and hand-carving tools. While I was not a stranger to power tools, I understood that the specialized equipment I’d be using to carve could easily cause injury and this was something I was trying to avoid.
General woodworking courses didn’t seem to meet my needs, so I looked for other help. To my good fortune, a longtime friend and Toronto-based artist/instructor, John N.C. Pearce, offered to take me under his wing. Over the course of a few days spent in John’s creative space, I was shown the steps to achieving a carved wooden form. From concept to creation, my first piece — a woodland dragon — began to take shape.
How did wood become such an appealing medium for my art? The rural property I had purchased, and where I’d planned to retire, was forested with majestic pine, hemlock and maple trees. From time to time, one of the old trees would fall from wind or storm. It saddened me to think that all that growing and living would be left to decompose on the forest floor.
As much as nature takes its course and rotting trees play an important role in nourishing the soil and other organisms, I couldn’t help but want to create something lasting and beautiful from part of the tree that had been.
Trees and I possessed a special bond. Through months of COVID isolation, and dealing with the illness of my mother and experiencing loss, I turned to the trees for company and grounding. Trees have outlived many human lives; trees are silent witnesses to our joys and sorrow; trees give us sustenance and air to breathe. I learned from reading Diana Beresford-Kroeger that trees even have the “neural ability to listen and think,” and “perhaps even dream.” Trees deserved respect.
I have always enjoyed a challenge and I’m a curious person. Wood carving represented a brand-new frontier. Sculpture has a depth and dimension that a flat surface just cannot convey. Then there’s the added element of risk. I’ll admit that this aspect is engaging and keeps one’s mind on task, lest you lop something off — of either yourself or your creation!
A feature carelessly removed cannot be replaced when carrying out a reductive form of sculpting such as carving. Once it’s gone, it’s not coming back. And, like many creative endeavours, immersing oneself in the act of carving can be healing and cathartic.
With new skills under my belt and new tools in my toolkit, I had acquired the confidence to plunge into projects on my own. First, this was in my kitchen, where wood chips flew in every direction and landed on every surface. It was clear that a workshop was required and, the following year, a storage area was converted into my first functioning studio. As my projects increased in size and I needed more room to move around, in fair weather I took my work outdoors.
An artist’s work can be lonely, and as I started my journey, COVID made that a particular challenge. At the time, I was isolating at my forest retreat. I had a vision of what I wanted to create, but with no one in sight, I had no reference for trying to carve a human figure in 3D. And I couldn’t very well ask the couriers to pose for me (my only contact with humanity during that time).
I turned to drawing books purchased online and attempted to study the proportions of the body by looking at my own. The mirror and I became good friends. FaceTime coaching from another artist friend was helpful, as she showed me how to see the planes of my face. When looking at my first figurative piece created during that time, people often ask if it’s me. While my sculpture She Hears Crow Songs was not meant to be so, I’ll admit it does partly bear some resemblance!
Many pieces have been created since then, such as a portrait sculpture of my mother, who passed away while I was on my creative path. It stands as a tribute to the unconditional support she offered whenever I began a new undertaking. Being a creative soul herself, she appreciated anything made by hand.
Other pieces I make tell stories of life — of love and loss, of joy and sorrow. Animals, nature and people all become subjects of my work. Sometimes, thoughts and feelings just need to be worked out with a mallet and gouge. Or there might be a favourite form I’d like to create, such as a horse, a leaf or an ear. Making abstract figurative garden sculptures also brings me joy. It is satisfying to see these pieces standing amid flowers and plants in beautiful outdoor spaces.
After four years of sculpting, I now work in my dream studio, a multipurpose two-story timber-frame construction, completed in 2023. Named the “Rookery,” it’s the place where ideas are born and art is created. There, I have plenty of room to work on a custom bench designed by me and built by the skilled young timber framer Bastien Salmon of Salmon Timber Framing Inc. The built-in metal cabinet drawers hide my tools when I host workshops, concerts and events at the Crow’s Rest. Using wood recovered, milled and dried from the devastating derecho storm of 2022, it’s another tribute to my trees.
The Process
I start with an idea, which is drawn or made into a model or maquette. Then, I look for wood whose character matches the object I plan to create. Whether it’s been gathered from my forest, salvaged from a building project, or obtained from a local source, each piece has its own qualities that need to be considered for the project at hand. Size, grain, shape and hardness are all taken into account. The bark is stripped and the drawing is transferred to the selected piece.
The first tools to be used are those from the chainsaw family, which cut away large portions of waste material. After some time spent at this stage, the roughed-out form of the object starts to emerge. As with any tool, knowing how to use it properly and wearing protective gear is a must.
Then, I move down in size to a round type of chainsaw, which is small but mighty, and has helped with many a project. It should also be used with extreme caution and a good set of gloves and goggles. There are those who don’t advise using this tool due to its kickback potential, but I have found it to be a versatile tool, providing much texture and personality to a piece.
When forming many of my abstract figurative pieces, I employ a shaping disc attached to a regular angle grinder. Another mechanical tool I like to use is a die grinder, with a variety of different burrs. It gets me into the smaller spaces and allows for more detailed work.
Hand carving with a mallet and gouge often comes next, depending on the grain and the look I’m trying to achieve. The more detailed the piece, the smaller the size of the gouge. Experimenting with different shapes and sizes of gouges is all part of the process and, like any creative undertaking, it takes time to learn which tool is best for the effect you are trying to achieve.
“No matter what tools you use to create, The true instrument is you.
And through you,
The universe that surrounds us
All comes into focus.”
— Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Once the carving stage is done, time is given to sand and oil the piece. Recently, I’ve been experimenting with the Japanese method of wood preservation called shou sugi ban. It’s great fun, but somewhat nerve-wracking to painstakingly create, then take a blowtorch to your masterpiece.
In the future, I plan to complete some larger outdoor installations, and I look forward to creating art for public spaces. Collaborating with other artists is something I will also pursue in the coming year. A show is in the works for 2025, which will combine paintings on canvas with complementary wooden sculptures. As always, I look forward to new opportunities and I welcome commissions.
I plan to keep honing my skills by learning from carving masters, wherever in the world they are found.
I’ve always been an artist at heart, yet my love of learning led me to become a teacher, principal and superintendent of education. I loved the students and the work — and I’d like to think that I brought creativity to it — but being a practicing artist was not something I was able to do simultaneously. However, I knew that when I retired and when time would become my own, I would turn to the artist within to take me through the next chapter of my life. And so, I did.
Although I enjoyed painting and had previously taken courses in printmaking and drawing, it was three-dimensional art that was pulling me in. Being surrounded by trees, wood seemed like a natural and readily available medium. But, never having carved before, I didn’t know where to begin. One thing I was sure of was the need for proper instruction in the safe handling of various mechanical and hand-carving tools. While I was not a stranger to power tools, I understood that the specialized equipment I’d be using to carve could easily cause injury and this was something I was trying to avoid.
General woodworking courses didn’t seem to meet my needs, so I looked for other help. To my good fortune, a longtime friend and Toronto-based artist/instructor, John N.C. Pearce, offered to take me under his wing. Over the course of a few days spent in John’s creative space, I was shown the steps to achieving a carved wooden form. From concept to creation, my first piece — a woodland dragon — began to take shape.
How did wood become such an appealing medium for my art? The rural property I had purchased, and where I’d planned to retire, was forested with majestic pine, hemlock and maple trees. From time to time, one of the old trees would fall from wind or storm. It saddened me to think that all that growing and living would be left to decompose on the forest floor.
As much as nature takes its course and rotting trees play an important role in nourishing the soil and other organisms, I couldn’t help but want to create something lasting and beautiful from part of the tree that had been.
Trees and I possessed a special bond. Through months of COVID isolation, and dealing with the illness of my mother and experiencing loss, I turned to the trees for company and grounding. Trees have outlived many human lives; trees are silent witnesses to our joys and sorrow; trees give us sustenance and air to breathe. I learned from reading Diana Beresford-Kroeger that trees even have the “neural ability to listen and think,” and “perhaps even dream.” Trees deserved respect.
I have always enjoyed a challenge and I’m a curious person. Wood carving represented a brand-new frontier. Sculpture has a depth and dimension that a flat surface just cannot convey. Then there’s the added element of risk. I’ll admit that this aspect is engaging and keeps one’s mind on task, lest you lop something off — of either yourself or your creation!
A feature carelessly removed cannot be replaced when carrying out a reductive form of sculpting such as carving. Once it’s gone, it’s not coming back. And, like many creative endeavours, immersing oneself in the act of carving can be healing and cathartic.
With new skills under my belt and new tools in my toolkit, I had acquired the confidence to plunge into projects on my own. First, this was in my kitchen, where wood chips flew in every direction and landed on every surface. It was clear that a workshop was required and, the following year, a storage area was converted into my first functioning studio. As my projects increased in size and I needed more room to move around, in fair weather I took my work outdoors.
An artist’s work can be lonely, and as I started my journey, COVID made that a particular challenge. At the time, I was isolating at my forest retreat. I had a vision of what I wanted to create, but with no one in sight, I had no reference for trying to carve a human figure in 3D. And I couldn’t very well ask the couriers to pose for me (my only contact with humanity during that time).
I turned to drawing books purchased online and attempted to study the proportions of the body by looking at my own. The mirror and I became good friends. FaceTime coaching from another artist friend was helpful, as she showed me how to see the planes of my face. When looking at my first figurative piece created during that time, people often ask if it’s me. While my sculpture She Hears Crow Songs was not meant to be so, I’ll admit it does partly bear some resemblance!
Many pieces have been created since then, such as a portrait sculpture of my mother, who passed away while I was on my creative path. It stands as a tribute to the unconditional support she offered whenever I began a new undertaking. Being a creative soul herself, she appreciated anything made by hand.
Other pieces I make tell stories of life — of love and loss, of joy and sorrow. Animals, nature and people all become subjects of my work. Sometimes, thoughts and feelings just need to be worked out with a mallet and gouge. Or there might be a favourite form I’d like to create, such as a horse, a leaf or an ear. Making abstract figurative garden sculptures also brings me joy. It is satisfying to see these pieces standing amid flowers and plants in beautiful outdoor spaces.
After four years of sculpting, I now work in my dream studio, a multipurpose two-story timber-frame construction, completed in 2023. Named the “Rookery,” it’s the place where ideas are born and art is created. There, I have plenty of room to work on a custom bench designed by me and built by the skilled young timber framer Bastien Salmon of Salmon Timber Framing Inc. The built-in metal cabinet drawers hide my tools when I host workshops, concerts and events at the Crow’s Rest. Using wood recovered, milled and dried from the devastating derecho storm of 2022, it’s another tribute to my trees.
The Process
I start with an idea, which is drawn or made into a model or maquette. Then, I look for wood whose character matches the object I plan to create. Whether it’s been gathered from my forest, salvaged from a building project, or obtained from a local source, each piece has its own qualities that need to be considered for the project at hand. Size, grain, shape and hardness are all taken into account. The bark is stripped and the drawing is transferred to the selected piece.
The first tools to be used are those from the chainsaw family, which cut away large portions of waste material. After some time spent at this stage, the roughed-out form of the object starts to emerge. As with any tool, knowing how to use it properly and wearing protective gear is a must.
Then, I move down in size to a round type of chainsaw, which is small but mighty, and has helped with many a project. It should also be used with extreme caution and a good set of gloves and goggles. There are those who don’t advise using this tool due to its kickback potential, but I have found it to be a versatile tool, providing much texture and personality to a piece.
When forming many of my abstract figurative pieces, I employ a shaping disc attached to a regular angle grinder. Another mechanical tool I like to use is a die grinder, with a variety of different burrs. It gets me into the smaller spaces and allows for more detailed work.
Hand carving with a mallet and gouge often comes next, depending on the grain and the look I’m trying to achieve. The more detailed the piece, the smaller the size of the gouge. Experimenting with different shapes and sizes of gouges is all part of the process and, like any creative undertaking, it takes time to learn which tool is best for the effect you are trying to achieve.
“No matter what tools you use to create, The true instrument is you.
And through you,
The universe that surrounds us
All comes into focus.”
— Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Once the carving stage is done, time is given to sand and oil the piece. Recently, I’ve been experimenting with the Japanese method of wood preservation called shou sugi ban. It’s great fun, but somewhat nerve-wracking to painstakingly create, then take a blowtorch to your masterpiece.
In the future, I plan to complete some larger outdoor installations, and I look forward to creating art for public spaces. Collaborating with other artists is something I will also pursue in the coming year. A show is in the works for 2025, which will combine paintings on canvas with complementary wooden sculptures. As always, I look forward to new opportunities and I welcome commissions.
I plan to keep honing my skills by learning from carving masters, wherever in the world they are found.
