EDIFICATION ― a slow, deliberate act of shaping something sacred from the discarded and forgotten. I took an old shed, gutted it, and gave it new bones. Like my sculptures, it began as humble material: raw timber, salvaged scraps, earthbound fibers. I sealed it all in plaster, layering protection over imperfection. The space became a vessel for creation, a shell built from the same philosophy as the work it would soon contain.
EDIFICATION
EDIFICATION ― a slow, deliberate act of shaping something sacred from the discarded and forgotten. I took an old shed, gutted it, and gave it new bones. Like my sculptures, it began as humble material: raw timber, salvaged scraps, earthbound fibers. I sealed it all in plaster, layering protection over imperfection. The space became a vessel for creation, a shell built from the same philosophy as the work it would soon contain.
I raised the ceiling and set beams to hold the shape of a new beginning. Like my sculptures, I coated the bare walls in plaster, giving the space its own skin. Above the door, I placed a clock in the A-frame to keep time visible, its steady ticking like a heartbeat, reminding me that the room was alive.
EDIFICATION ― a slow, deliberate act of shaping something sacred from the discarded and forgotten. I took an old shed, gutted it, and gave it new bones. Like my sculptures, it began as humble material: raw timber, salvaged scraps, earthbound fibers. I sealed it all in plaster, layering protection over imperfection. The space became a vessel for creation, a shell built from the same philosophy as the work it would soon contain.
I raised the ceiling and set beams to hold the shape of a new beginning. Like my sculptures, I coated the bare walls in plaster, giving the space its own skin. Above the door, I placed a clock in the A-frame to keep time visible, its steady ticking like a heartbeat, reminding me that the room was alive.
I raised the ceiling and set beams to hold the shape of a new beginning. Like my sculptures, I coated the bare walls in plaster, giving the space its own skin. Above the door, I placed a clock in the A-frame to keep time visible, its steady ticking like a heartbeat, reminding me that the room was alive.
Then came the window, a quiet eye opening to the outside world, followed by a water line to feed a simple sink—for cleaning brushes, mixing pulp, and staying connected to the source. The studio, like the art made within it, rose from scraps and silence into something sacred.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Sed malesuada faucibus ex nec ultricies. Donec mattis egestas nisi non pretium. Suspendisse nec eros ut erat facilisis maximus. In congue et leo in varius. Vestibulum sit amet felis ornare, commodo orci ut, feugiat lorem.
