In the early 1990s, my career as a carver was defined by a transition between two of the most prestigious estates in England. I had just completed a significant period of work at Woburn Abbey, serving the Duke of Bedford. Woburn was a masterclass in scale; the seat of the Russell family demanded a masonry…
To run one’s hand over a weathered plinth is to converse with the past. As a member of the guild, I often find my thoughts returning to our brothers in 18th-century Paris. These men, particularly the migrant masons from the Creuse, were the silent architects of a new era. When they stood before the Bastille,…
When one walks through the hushed corridors of the Ashmolean Museum, the eye is naturally drawn to the masterpieces on canvas. Yet, for a carver, the true revelation often lies at the periphery. There is a particular frame within those walls—carved by the incomparable Grinling Gibbons—that serves as a silent testament to a level of…