NORTHERNER ROOTS : Finding Strength and Silence in the North
The North has a way of grounding you. Its silence, strength, and fleeting beauty live in you forever—and in my art, I try to give voice to that quiet power.
If I were to describe myself and my work, both are tied deeply to the North. My carving feels like an echo of the granite channels of the Canadian Shield, slowly hollowed out over millennia by ice, wind, and water. The rhythm of that landscape—the ebb and flow of seasons, the migration of visitors, the steady endurance of those who stay—has shaped my outlook and my hands as a sculptor.
Granite teaches us strength. It has endured millennia, while our own lives are fleeting by comparison. Yet even the softest stone can be shaped into something lasting and beautiful. I find peace in that paradox—something so solid, yet so vulnerable to time and touch.
I long for the North often. I grew up there, and I returned for a few years to rejuvenate my soul. The isolation and silence suited me. My perfect afternoon was to lose myself in the wild, go as far as I dared, and find a quiet place to rest. That kind of stillness is meditation. Nature does not need words—it teaches simply by being.
There’s a line in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: “Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” That is the North. The fleeting glimpse of a moose in the fog, the hush of a lake at dawn, the sudden flight of an owl—all are moments that slip away as quietly as they arrive. They don’t perform for us; they exist in their own truth. And too often, we rush past, consuming rather than observing, forgetting that we depend on nature more than it depends on us.
Roots, though, run deep. They hold fast when the storms come. My hope is that mine are strong enough to take root again when I return to the North someday. I dream of a time when my work can grow in that soil, less bound by the city’s demands, more in tune with the silence of the wild.
The wild offers encounters that stay with you forever—moments with animals, fleeting as they are, that feel like gifts. Each one carries a small story, shaping the way I see the world and the way I carve. I hope those who see my work can sense some of that presence—an echo of the North, of the land’s silence and strength.
The North teaches us that silence is not emptiness. It is belonging. Its strength is not loud, but enduring. And once you have lived with it, the North never leaves you.
This last picture is a bronze cast bear made from the original stone sculpture called ‘Brother’. For enquires, please ask.