Sculptures by JMikk
Art in Progress
"Phoenix," a walnut sculpture, from chainsaw to gallery.
The final surface preparation is to hand sand with 220, 320, 400, and 600 grit paper and using #0000 steel wool in between hand-sanding steps. Whereas the sand paper tends to “crush” and bend over the wood fibers, the steel wool acts as micro-scrapers to remove the damaged wood fibers. When you hear woodworkers talking about “raised grain” when the sanded wood is wetted or painted, that phrase refers to the damaged wood fibers “relaxing” when wet and standing up from the surface. The other problem with damaged wood fibers is that they scatter light and prevent that beautiful refraction that many wood grains display. The use of steel wool in the final finishing steps allows the wood to sparkle. The pictures to the left show the hand sanding and steel wool steps on the top of Mushroom.
I use several sanding steps in a very time-consuming process to finish the sculptures. The first step is to use a random-orbital sander to remove the rough carving marks, starting with 80 grit, and stepping through 120, 150, and 220 grit paper. For tight inside curves, I use sanding pads that I make for a 3/8” electric drill with sanding diameters as small as ¼”. In the the picture to the left I am resanding the top of Mushroom in preparation for the final finishing.
Artist Statement
The next step in the shaping process is the use of a chainsaw wheel on a side-grinder. This tool leaves a chisel-like surface which needs to be sanded and polished. This tool is very dangerous to use since it is rotating at 15,000 rpm and tends to pull into the wood as it cuts. I often complain about fatigue in both forearms since most of the “work” is holding back the tool from carving right through the sculpture.
A similar carving tool that I use is an 8-link chain wheel that I have adapted to use with a pneumatic die grinder. With this tool I can carve (and rough sand) in tight spaces of his sculpture.
Many woodworkers talk about working with the “soul” of a tree. What does that mean? For me it means that I feel connected to trees and their wood, to their beauty and the mystery of living organisms, and I feel highly motivated to preserve a piece of that beauty rather than let it be lost to the fireplace, landfill, or even decay in its cycle of rebirth. That is why I have yet to cut down a living tree as source material for my carving. Rather I use logs from trees removed by arborists, loggers, and landowners; or that have been uprooted by storms or fallen down on their own accord.
My sculpting begins with selecting logs whose external features such as branches, crotches, cracks, and cavities, suggest an interesting interior. My first chainsaw cuts are chosen to expose that interior and begin the long process of shaping the sculpture and revealing the tree’s story. Many choices are made between tree features and a pleasing overall shape as viewed from all sides. I do not impose a predetermined shape on the log, but instead let the features of the log determine the shape. I am prejudiced toward leaving bark or natural edges, a remnant of stained decay, complex grain patterns, and overall shapes which seem to me to be organic and graceful. I carefully polish the surface to bring out the sparkling refraction of light from the cellular structure of the wood. The resulting surface is not only beautiful to behold but is pleasing to touch or caress, my way of connecting with the tree from which the sculpture originated.
I am often asked to name the piece, or say what it is. The shape of some of my sculptures suggests an obvious title, but that is merely coincidental. In the end, the piece could be titled something like “Elm’s Legacy” or “The Essence of Oak”. Recently I have begun sculpting “figurative” pieces which bring new challenges and rewards.