In mid-January 2021, my hiking-friend Annette, asked me to make a sculpture out of a branch she had saved. It came from a beloved, fallen Apple tree, on her property. I hesitated, unfamiliar with Apple-wood, and out of practice in wood-carving.
Curious and always looking for a new challenge, I asked her to drop the branch off at my house. The four feet tall, curved limb split midway in two, but was unremarkable. I laid it on my front porch, and to my surprise a sprawling figure emerged in the pale afternoon light, a twisted torso, and long outstretched legs. It was enough to pique my interest, and I stuck the wood in my studio.
As a child I learned wood carving, and have relished in sharp tools ever since, my Swedish carving knifes always close by. A few days later I picked up a tool and started whittling the Apple branch, my knife gliding along the grain. The wood was hard and yellow and before I knew it, I was hooked and wood chips covered my studio-floor.
I ordered a smaller carving knife, a timber-tuff, and a sharpening stone, increasingly excited about my new project. Caught by the energy of the wood and the act of carving, a dancing woman stepped out of the branch. I followed her form and shaped one of the thinner branched in to a leg, toes pointing down. Next, using my new timber-tuff, I brought out the twist in the torso, accentuating the waist.
My girl, as I thought of her, wanted a head and I battled the end wood with my carving knife and a rasp, until thinking of my grinder. The rounded outline of the skull took shape, and I carved the face and hair with my new knife. The young dancer, hair in a bob, a small nose pointing toward the sky, rose from invisibility, slender and strong.
She needed a dress, and after sanding the torso I painted vines and leaves in blue, purple, and green, interspersed by red and yellow fruit. The vegetation played off the rotation in the trunk and brought verve to my girl. A coat of high gloss varnish finished her wear.
To stand independently, I drilled holes in to her lower limbs, inserting short brass rods. The rods fit in two holes in an old plank, and to my great relief standing upright suited her well.
I arrived a sunny morning at the end of February at Annette’s house for the installation. Annette had prepared a piece of soapstone for a base and told me she had named my girl Appleachia. The soapstone rested at the entranceway against a narrow wood-paneled wall .
I drilled two holes into the stone and inserted Appleachia’s brass pegs. She stood steady and well balanced, gazing out through an upper window. It was a perfect placement, showing off the form and adding new life to the space.
The history of a beloved cut down Apple tree, sawed off branch, and carved wood sculpture named Appleachia told a story of transformation and new beginnings. I received payment for my work and let her go, honored to have been a part of her story.