Bronze Rhubarb Side Table
A bronze side table cast from life.
Rhubarb grows from a bright pink knuckle in the wintered soil, slowly at first and then with increasing luxuriance, announcing the new Spring. As children, our Granny would take my siblings and me to her rhubarb patch, whose leaves towered over us like fairytale parasols, to collect the bright pink stems, cook them, pickle them, share with each other.
I still get excited every year when the first signs of rhubarb appear from the soil. In this collection I’ve tried to preserve the sense of occasion, magic and playfulness that I associate with rhubarb. I cast huge leaves from life, and playfully articulate these joyous springlike forms into tactile usable sculptures.
I was lucky enough to find three, large rhubarb stems which had grown at an angle, with flicks at the bottom of the straight stems acting as perfect little ‘feet’ for the table legs. The lost wax process preserves the most minute detail of the rhubarb. I love to see and touch the rough edge where it has been pulled from the soil. I have used a dark patina on this collection and have rubbed back the extremities of the forms, revealing the intricacies of the veins in the leaves and stems.
A bronze side table cast from life.
Rhubarb grows from a bright pink knuckle in the wintered soil, slowly at first and then with increasing luxuriance, announcing the new Spring. As children, our Granny would take my siblings and me to her rhubarb patch, whose leaves towered over us like fairytale parasols, to collect the bright pink stems, cook them, pickle them, share with each other.
I still get excited every year when the first signs of rhubarb appear from the soil. In this collection I’ve tried to preserve the sense of occasion, magic and playfulness that I associate with rhubarb. I cast huge leaves from life, and playfully articulate these joyous springlike forms into tactile usable sculptures.
I was lucky enough to find three, large rhubarb stems which had grown at an angle, with flicks at the bottom of the straight stems acting as perfect little ‘feet’ for the table legs. The lost wax process preserves the most minute detail of the rhubarb. I love to see and touch the rough edge where it has been pulled from the soil. I have used a dark patina on this collection and have rubbed back the extremities of the forms, revealing the intricacies of the veins in the leaves and stems.
A bronze side table cast from life.
Rhubarb grows from a bright pink knuckle in the wintered soil, slowly at first and then with increasing luxuriance, announcing the new Spring. As children, our Granny would take my siblings and me to her rhubarb patch, whose leaves towered over us like fairytale parasols, to collect the bright pink stems, cook them, pickle them, share with each other.
I still get excited every year when the first signs of rhubarb appear from the soil. In this collection I’ve tried to preserve the sense of occasion, magic and playfulness that I associate with rhubarb. I cast huge leaves from life, and playfully articulate these joyous springlike forms into tactile usable sculptures.
I was lucky enough to find three, large rhubarb stems which had grown at an angle, with flicks at the bottom of the straight stems acting as perfect little ‘feet’ for the table legs. The lost wax process preserves the most minute detail of the rhubarb. I love to see and touch the rough edge where it has been pulled from the soil. I have used a dark patina on this collection and have rubbed back the extremities of the forms, revealing the intricacies of the veins in the leaves and stems.
