When I was quite young, I wandered alone into my Grandmother’s painting studio. A painting in progress showed three rhinoceri - a mother with two offspring tucked close into her side. Though I had no words for it yet, the painting moved me.
The composition was strong and my grandmother had painted confidently, with loose brushstrokes and a sage-yellow ground palette that reflected upward into the rhino’s round bellies. Maybe a headful of turpentine made the scene seem more alive than perhaps it was, but I never forgot that moment.
Years later, after my grandmother’s mother taught me to paint landscapes, I decided to create art with the same quality as that painting – work that would tell a story if studied closely, but that would also stand alone as an object of pure beauty. I tried and failed many times to achieve that goal, in many different media, and finally settled on fine wood furniture as a means of expression about fifteen years ago. After studying furniture making in California and running my own shop, I came to work for the Weeks in order to stabilize my work life and enjoy the company of like-minded artist-craftspeople.
Every day in the shop, we strive to do our best work, and, occasionally, are able to step back from a finished piece with the same satisfaction I know my grandmother felt when that final brushstroke was made.