Since the mid-1980s, my journey as a woodturning artist has been guided by a simple but profound desire: to breathe new life into what might otherwise have crumbled into dust. Wood has been my companion for decades, each piece carrying its own hidden voice, its own stubborn spirit waiting to be revealed.

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I’ve watched fellow woodturners push the boundaries, blending technology and unexpected materials into their creations. Their work often leaves me in awe—astonishing forms that stretch far beyond tradition. In the early 90s, I too wandered down that path, experimenting with paint, metal, and texture as embellishments. For a time, I was known for it. But eventually, I found myself circling back, drawn to the challenge that never loosens its grip on me: the wood itself.

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My passion for it has only deepened. Most of what I create is not carefully mapped or preplanned; instead, the process unfolds like a conversation. As the wood spins on the lathe, it speaks, guiding me toward its own destiny. I am merely the vessel, the hands carrying it forward, until it becomes what it was always meant to be—something enduring, something forever.