Maybe I'm odd, that I find what nature makes to be beautiful. I love how my wife looks, when she just wakes up, hair askew, no make up and pillow wrinkles on her cheek. I see everything else as a lie. That is how she was made and that is what I love.
I take that attitude into my work. What many might see as defects, I see as the story of the life of that tree. Knots, were the arms of the tree, reaching skyward to find the sun, to find life. Scars from old axe wounds, where the tree did battle with man, and won the day, living on to grow bigger and stronger. Cross grain and crotch wood are where the tree split itself, yearning so much to be in two places at once that it ripped itself apart. The swirls and crests of the grain are a tale of its struggle as the wind tore at it, trying to force it to fall, to submit, to bow to its power. But, it stood its ground, braced itself and grew on, living and thriving when the world wanted it gone.
Ok, I got a little flowery with my thoughts, But that's how I see it. I see the life and trials of a tree in its grain, its struggles and its victories. I can't cut it away, scrap it because it's not straight and true. I do what I do with everything I make. I celebrate its life, and memorialize it into something beautiful. So that in your struggles, you can look to it and see its victories, its scars, and its unrelenting beauty. and then Hope.
I love what I do, I hope you love it too.