I do not work from a plan. I never sketch my sculptures. I do not create designs. I do not prepare templates.
If I knew exactly what the finished form would look like from the beginning, I would probably lose interest in the process very quickly.
It is the uncertainty that keeps sculpting alive for me.
When I pick up a piece of wood, I can feel its character. I see proportions. I see the direction of the grain.
I sense weight, tension, and possibilities hidden within the material. But I do not see a finished sculpture. I only see a place from which I can begin.
The first cut changes everything.
The wood looks different.
The light behaves differently.
New lines appear where none existed before. Every decision closes some possibilities and opens others.
After a few hours of work, I often find myself somewhere I never expected to be.
Sometimes a direction feels right from the beginning. Sometimes, after many hours of carving, I realise that I need to move in an entirely different direction.
That is not a failure. It is part of the process.
I do not try to force the wood to follow a plan, because there is no plan.
There is only one next decision. The next observation. The next movement.
Sculpting feels less like executing a project and more like having a conversation.
Each cut changes the situation. Each new surface asks a different question. And every answer creates the conditions for the next decision.
This is why I never truly know where a sculpture will end when I begin.
I only know where the next movement leads. And for me, that is enough.
This reflection emerged while working on Shaped by Silence.
