Behind the Stone: My Journey into Bronze Casting
A few months ago, everything aligned, and I took the plunge. Now, I’m fully immersed in a process that has both challenged and inspired me.
For the past couple of months—and if I’m being honest, the past few years—I’ve toyed with the idea of casting some of my work into bronze. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the signs were there, nudging me forward. A few months ago, everything aligned, and I took the plunge. Now, I’m fully immersed in a process that has both challenged and inspired me.
The first piece to make this leap is Brother. Initially carved from stone, Brother was never intended to take on a life in bronze. However, with the help of a 3D scanner I recently purchased, I was able to replicate and refine the original design, making it suitable for this new medium. The technology allowed me to reimagine the sculpture while staying true to its essence, something I hadn’t anticipated when I first began carving it.
The journey into bronze casting has been intense but deeply rewarding. A visit to Artcast, a renowned foundry in Markham, gave me the confidence to proceed. Their expertise and state-of-the-art facilities brought my vision to life. They also guided me in choosing a stunning black high-polish wax patina that beautifully complements the piece. Their dedication to craftsmanship reassured me that my artistic intentions would be fully realized.
What excites me most is that this is just the beginning. Even before Brother is completed in bronze, I’m already preparing to bring a second piece into the process. The momentum is exhilarating, and I can’t wait to share the results with you.
This venture into bronze casting marks a significant evolution in my work. It’s a bold step forward, and I’m setting my expectations high—not just for myself, but for what these pieces will bring to those who encounter them. Stay tuned, because the best is yet to come!
Dream Symbols and the Stone They Shape
Dream Symbols and the Stone They Shape
A dream wakes you in the night, thick with emotion. Its echoes tug at your thoughts all day, pulling you back toward something deeper—something unresolved. The weight of it lingers, familiar symbols surfacing again and again: the same bird, the same path, the same animal crossing into view.
But what does it mean?
Symbols are the common language of our inner world. Long before we were born, they lived in the collective psyche—guiding us, warning us, calling us inward. A bird hitting a window, a rushing river, a hand reaching through the unknown, a door cracking open, a bear appearing at a fork in the trail. These aren’t just dream fragments. They’re ancient patterns, hardwired into us.
As I carve, I find myself drifting back into these dream places—spaces more vivid than memory, filled with imagery that insists on being expressed. Bears have emerged again and again in my work. Owls, too, for more personal reasons tied to reflection and the mystery of self. These animals—especially those of the boreal wild—carry weight. Not just for me, but for many of us.
So even if they appear often in my work, it’s not repetition—it’s resonance.
Our dreams are trying to speak. Sometimes, they even carve the stone with us.
Keep listening.
The River in You: Listening to the Symbols of Life
But resistance—whether it comes from within or the world around us—is like dragging a boulder tied to your feet. It demands attention. Sometimes the obstacles in front of us are just reflections of the ones within us.
The other day, I was on Kijiji, excited to find a reliable trailer for hauling stone and supplies—something that could also double as a camper for family trips. I found the perfect one: enclosed, sturdy, and complete with a fold-out tent. Just as I was waiting for the green light from my wife, it was gone. Sold.
Determined, I tracked down the same model, brand new. The price was $2,500 more, but I was willing to bite the bullet. Then, a week before I planned to commit, it disappeared again. Now I’m waiting to hear if they’ll restock, but it feels like a closed door.
This kind of thing has been happening a lot lately—missed opportunities revolving around my stone carving. It’s frustrating, even maddening, when everything seems to go wrong. A planned execution fails, a perfect piece of stone cracks, or something entirely unrelated throws off the process.
But here’s what I’ve learned from years of carving: these moments aren’t random.
Resistance and the Internal Struggle
When things fall apart, it’s tempting to push through, forcing the pieces back together. But resistance—whether it comes from within or the world around us—is like dragging a boulder tied to your feet. It demands attention. Sometimes the obstacles in front of us are just reflections of the ones within us.
Call it “woo woo” or metaphysics, but I believe these challenges carry meaning. Thoth, the ancient Egyptian figure of wisdom, taught that the universe is mental—a manifestation of thought. And while the universe may feel “mental” in the chaotic sense, there’s truth in this idea. Resistance often mirrors something unaddressed in our lives, something asking for clarity.
I’ve seen this happen firsthand. Once, I made the conscious effort to resolve an issue before the sun went down—a longstanding grievance I’d ignored for too long. That night, two lingering physical injuries healed overnight. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I don’t think so.
Dreams as Guides
Recently, my dreams have echoed this theme: pulling boulders, struggling against invisible weights. The imagery feels frustratingly familiar, but it’s also a clue. Dreams, like life’s obstacles, are symbols of our internal state. They point to what needs addressing.
When I finally stop fighting the current—when I face the resistance instead of running from it—I find that things start to flow. Doors open. Opportunities return.
The River in You
This process of listening, interpreting, and acting isn’t just a lesson for life—it’s the foundation of my art. My latest piece, The River In You, illustrates this point. If you look closely, you’ll see the interplay of artificial shadows and dark water, the tension between what’s seen and unseen.
The river symbolizes the flow of life, but also the blockages we create. It’s a reminder that every external struggle carries an internal message. And when we address the source—when we clear the boulders in our path—the river runs free.
Life, like carving stone, is an act of persistence, patience, and faith. The obstacles we face are part of the process, shaping us as much as we shape them.
Listen to the river in you. It will guide you where you need to go.