Between Nature and Art

Early in the morning, when the sun spills golden light on the leaves of the trees and the forest seems to whisper something to the wind, I enter my studio. It smells of resin, dust and something almost mystical - as if the wood that rests here is still alive. In the corner stands a piece of oak. Old, with numerous cracks, at first glance inconspicuous. But I know that inside it lies a story waiting to see the light of day. Wood always tells a story. You just have to know how to listen.