Sea Dragon

Sea Dragon began, for me, as a memory of foam on a pint glass and music drifting out of an open doorway in Asbury Park. That easy mix of laughter, salt air, and late-afternoon light stayed with me long after the evening ended, and it is that feeling I chased in this piece.
Every element of Sea Dragon is real shoreline history. I gathered the driftwood over months of slow walks along the New Jersey coast, waiting for pieces that already held a suggestion of lift and coil, like a creature riding an invisible current. I never cut those curves into the wood; I simply turned and re-turned each branch until the arc of a dragon's back, the flick of a tail, and the lean of a neck revealed themselves.
To that grounded, Atlantic character, I added a small chorus from far away: shells brought back from Thailand, their surfaces worn satin-smooth by a different sea. Set against the weathered timber, they read almost like scales catching light, or foam cresting along a moving body. Together, they let the sculpture bridge two oceans in a single, fluid gesture.
On the wall, Sea Dragon reads as motion more than mass. The form unfurls horizontally, suggesting a living shape that could slip out of frame at any moment, yet it remains airy enough to sit comfortably above a sideboard, in a stairwell, or as a statement in a coastal-inspired living room. Up close, you see cracks, knots, and salt-stained grain that reward lingering, the kind of details that turn a decorative object into a daily ritual of looking.
For a collector, Sea Dragon offers more than a dramatic silhouette. It brings together joy, reflection, and the quiet resilience of materials that have survived tide after tide, inviting that same sense of endurance and easy movement into your space.