Sail Away

Sail Away grew out of a single, impossibly slender board that had been bent by years of tidal pull into the near-perfect arc of a sailfish's back. I set it aside for months, waiting for the right companions - narrow, blade-like pieces for the bill, a fan of lighter fragments for the raised sail, and denser wood to ground the body with weight and intention.
When those elements finally came together, the sculpture felt less assembled than caught in mid-strike. The bill projects forward, a clean, unbroken line of driftwood that still bears the faint texture of sand and salt. Above it, the sail flares from layered, jagged pieces, each one left in its natural state so the edges read like individual rays of fin catching the sun.
I avoid forcing symmetry; the ocean rarely grants it. Instead, small asymmetries in the tail and torso suggest a subtle lean, the moment when a hunter pivots after a flash of motion in deeper water. From a distance, Sail Away appears almost weightless, as if it could lift from the wall; up close, the grain and scars of the wood remind you that every inch has already survived real storms.
This sailfish driftwood sculpture is for spaces that thrive on energy - a stairwell that needs a sense of ascent, a coastal living room that opens toward the sea, or an office where focus and agility matter. It brings a sharp, elegant line to any wall, carrying the feeling of speed without a single moving part. Hang it where light can brush across its surface, and you will see the piece do what the fish itself does best: cut cleanly through the day, always headed for open water.