we have a small homestead in rural Nova Scotia. apples are abundant here and i’ve always dreamed of walking through the rows of my very own orchard.
except during pruning season.
i waited years to get a certain variety of apple. i never manage to get my order in early enough. last year, two trees finally arrived. this year -
off with their heads.
not much of a tree yet, pruning will help this little whip take shape
even my one year old is looking at this little stick planted in the ground, this twig that has so much of my attention, thinking it would be better served as a something to wave around in the air.
i can see it in his eyes.
there is a quiet inspiration found here too. a signal of spring. of warmer weather.
of growth.
a warm, clear day and light highlighting the fuzz of new growth
flexible branches, delicate buds. choosing a shape and direction for the tree while working within its own unique shape. no two are the same and it would be a fools errand to try to force it.
my approach to jewellery has a similar rhythm.
metal moves. glass flows.
temperature and gravity work together while i do my best to control it where i can. no two pieces exactly the same. and why would we want them to be?
my process is organic.
repurposed copper filament melting onto molten glass - inspired by the piles of cutoff left behind during pruning season
often i sit down with a specific design in mind and the material guides me in a different direction. i have learnt to follow.
to be flexible.
light and shadow play off the bedlam left behind, creating shape and form
the carnage left behind in a well pruned orchard is overwhelming - but so is the unkept, disease-ridden, haunted look of an abandoned orchard.
cut back to promote health and growth.
true in art, life and orchards -
off with their heads.
