Unearthed Voices: Raw Surface as Narrative

Unearthed Voices: Raw Surface as Narrative.

There is stillness that settles in advance of a sculpture older than it can possibly be, not in years, but in existing. Cracks, rough clay edges, oxide stains seeping into crevices like silt. These are not flaws but suggestions of weathering and memory.

Surface is never afterthought in my studio. Finger marks, blade marks, or brush marks are the living language of my work. Touch and time inscribe. I align texture with story. Each gouge a word in the story of erosion and growth. If I let a wash pour into the crevices, I do not feel like I'm adding ornament but stripping away. The finish must be archaeological, unearthed from the ground with the patina of time still on it.

There is belief in working in this manner, belief that the viewer will feel their way into the oft-mottled surface. Fissured surfaces are countercultural in an age of smooth perfection; they don't work, they remember. They remind us of the unpredictability of nature and the beauty of imperfection.

Echoes from the Walls of Time

As I moved around ancient sites in Türkiye, during a recent visit, I could sense that same pull of centuries after observing the scratches, marks, and animals cut out by early human beings.

I am not attempting to recreate those symbols but listen to them. My rough surfaces, cratered skins and mineral umbras, are a deference to that primal picture language. I desire my sculptures to look as though they've been torn from the ground by a hidden spring, whispering as old art whispers: We were here. We loved the earth. We remembered.