Maysam Shalviri

 

Who could not love such tiny perfection?

Minuscule carving by Maysam Shalviri nestled in the crevasses of fingerprints. 

Steve Parker

 

A fallen oak tree, crafted into a record player and discs to sing it' own swan song, is todays magic created by Steve Parker. A funeral for a tree is a beautiful sculptural homage to the life of a wonder and recognition of all the life it supported. 

"I turned this tree into a record player. A few months ago a tree in my front yard died. Instead of hauling it away I turned it into a victrola, to play it's own funeral. I cut it's trunk into slices and carved grooves into them and built this wooden victrola with a toothpick needle. Each record plays bird song from the birds that used to roost in it's branches. Now as the wood keeps cracking, the sound glitches and fades like a memory you're trying to hold onto"    Steve Parker

Jakob Grosse-Ophoff

 

It's a New Year and time for a hug.

'The Hugger' by Jakob Grosse-Ophoff, two carved arms on a pressure plate.

Carlo Raymann

 

Carlo Raymann is a furniture designer and interior architect who has recently taken to sculpting beautiful fish.

Dunne and Raby

 

Exploring what a human would be perceived as if you sensed it's movement and smells, using shapes of clouds of smell, ripples of movement and trails of hormones  Dunne and Raby decided to visualise the 'unwelt'- the world- view of different species carving Tasmanian Huon Pine. Part of the Design Museum London's exhibition 'More Than Human', on until October 5th.

Ashley Davies

 

Ashley Davis intricately carves incredible miniature automata broaches and complex automata assemblages. 

Giles Miller II

 

Built in collaboration with Surrey Hills Arts and the Mittal Foundation by Giles Miller  This pavilion tapers gently toward the valley its organic cone like form opening like a lens to frame the panoramic view. Each cedar shingle carries a message: poems, dedications, and words from local residents and schoolchildren. What begins as a protective skin at the rear gradually disperses forward—lifting into light, wind, and sky. Part sculpture, part shelter, part archive—the pavilion becomes a vessel of collective memory.