The One Twenty

Some take weeks. Some take months. The piece decides, not the calendar.

Every piece starts as a scribble: a few seconds to catch an idea before it leaves. Nothing is drawn properly. From there it is resolved at the bench, in the material, by hand and by feel. The drawing is a note to myself, not an instruction.

The temptation in this work is to design safely. Repeat what sold. Refine what worked. Build a house style and live inside it for twenty years. I am not interested in that.

So each piece is allowed to demand its own method. Some are bent and laminated. Some are carved. Some are neither. What holds the work together is not a technique. It is a willingness to attempt the thing that should not stand up.

Every piece leaves with its number and the sketch it came from.

Ten years is a long time to commit to. That is the point. This is not a plan to be finished. It is a decade of showing up, in the open, one piece at a time, and finding out what a body of work adds up to when nobody is allowed to rush it.

Warren Turnbull