Description
Talking wood.
I remember Grandpa Heniek, sitting by the stove with a pipe in his teeth, on a small stool. With a piece of wood in his hand and a small trestle in the other, he was starting to peel. The shavings were flying to the floor, and he puffed up smoke and told amazing stories. The fire in the hearth crackled cheerfully. Grandma and my mother were embroidering something there, and my brother and I sat with our beaks open and listened.
Science
– “Wood can talk, but only to a trained sculptor. A dunce will cut his fingers” – he summed up shortly. – “Grandpa, teach us” – we asked. He showed us a lot, rings and crevices, cracks and layers. One fine day we got permission from the whole family to learn how to carve. First, we had to create our own trestles. Cover the blades with leather and learn how to sharpen, and then planing under the right angle. Layer by layer. My first horse I carved looked like a dog or a grasshopper. But my brother was doing pretty well. He made slingshots, planed arrows for a bow, cut out the names of his girlfriends in hearts in the trees, and that’s it … Neither of us had a bug for that, or wood did not want to appeal to us.
Today.
Quite recently, while working on the Pearl of Podlasie project, which was to search for local craftsmen and artists, I met my grandfather Herman. A wonderful, joyful old man with a real passion for carving. The memory of my grandfather came back, and a bit of regret that I could listen to him and learn more. It is too late for me to learn, although to this day I love to work with wood, but it is the right time to support carving.
Grandpa Herman showed me his workshop. Despite his 70 years, he talks about his passion with such passion and commitment that it’s something beautiful. He has so much light, so much kindness, joy and fire that some young people do not have so much.
Passion.
In my opinion, a man who creates, creates, externalizes his soul through works, acquires unprecedented power. It shines with a unique glow that he pours into his works. As if he was giving a part of himself in all things, but his soul shines even brighter and grows. The more he creates, the more he has love for his passion and for people and the world. Often the closest ones do not appreciate it. They receive gifts and throw them into the corner as unnecessary trash, which then falls over and is finally thrown away.
The mistakes of youth.
I did the same. My aunt did wonderful crochet things, she bought a big doll for me for communion and made a beautiful dress for her, with lots of frills, shoes, a hat and even panties. And I cried because I wanted a barbie doll with cheesy dresses. The doll was scattered around the attic, mice had punched holes in the dress, hair fell out and her parents threw her away. When I turned 18, my aunt died, saving me an apartment with lots and lots of crochet work, embroidered bedding, decorative handkerchiefs, knitted pillows, rugs, napkins and another doll like this, actually lots of dolls, small and large and boxes with a doll and a music box with a ballerina in a crochet skirt.
Cleaning.
I packed all these miracles into sacks and in the attic, and rented the apartment. The next tenants took what they liked, often without paying the rent, and I didn’t even think about checking if anything was missing from the attic. It’s all rubbish there.
Reflection.
Apparently, we do not learn from other people’s mistakes, but from our own, but if even one person learns from my mistakes, it’s a success. Honor someone else’s work, contribution and commitment. If you don’t like something, please sell it in my shop. Maybe someone else will like it, and you will be able to buy what suits you. There is nothing wrong with selling gifts. Better than stuffing them into someone else’s gift too. As it will seem …
Sale
The Internet is safe, a gift from Podlasie (16 pair of socks from grandma Zenia) can go to Wrocław and serve someone by warming his perpetually wrinkled feet. Today I am a mature, experienced woman and I want to correct my mistakes from the past by helping handicraftsmen to promote and sell their works.
Sculptor.
There are fewer and fewer sculptors. When I went from village to village looking for artists, I only heard that this one is dead, that one died last year, and this one is in a hospice. This one is too old, and the other one will not be able to do it anymore. This passion cannot be acquired just at school or from the Internet. You have to have a master and listen to him. Grandfather Herman stayed in my neighborhood, none of his sons or grandchildren share this passion. His work is dusty in a small pigsty because his wife does not allow him to keep this brotherhood at home. The tear is rolling … I took my grandfather Herman under my wing and I will promote his work.
Size.
The statue “Forest Grandfather”, carved by hand in linden wood, height 24 cm with a hat, total width 17 cm, width with a pipe 22 cm. Oiled with linseed oil. An open cap with a place for a hiding place, even tobacco or as a gift box hidden in the hat 🙂
Shipping in 24 hours
