This bowl wasn’t shaped the usual way. Most pieces follow the flow of the wood — carved in line with the grain, moving with the fibers, not against them. But the shape of this burl didn’t allow that. The only way forward was across.

Carving against the grain means pushing into resistance. It means splintering. Tear-out. Edges that don’t want to hold. The tool doesn’t glide — it scrapes, catches, pulls. Every cut has to be more deliberate. Slower.

And yet, from that tension came this. A smooth and generous form, held together by a scarlet seam of resin — a scar that doesn’t hide, but tells the truth of the process. It’s a piece that remembers the work it took to shape it. One that didn’t want to be easy, but it was well worthed.