Red Mallee Burl (Eucalyptus oleosa), stainless steel and epoxy inlays.
8 lbs. 22" x 13" x 1-3/4"
Supernova Residue No. 1 reflects on the remote conditions from which human life ultimately became possible. Long before there were bodies, oceans, or breath, the elements necessary for life were forged in stellar violence and scattered across space. The reclaimed wood bears the record of earthly time and organic history, while the steel introduces a colder, more inert presence associated with cosmic residue—the aftermath of forces far older than the planet itself.
The work dwells on a threshold prior to life itself: the point at which raw matter, still marked by violence and dispersal, begins to approach the conditions from which future complexity might emerge. Its fissures, interruptions, and material contrasts suggest a world not yet inhabited, but no longer wholly barren—a field of remnants poised between aftermath and possibility.
That condition carries direct human significance. Every person begins in a chain of unlikely events extending back beyond biology to chemistry, and beyond chemistry to star-formed matter. What appears here as debris and fracture can also be understood as origin: the unstable material prehistory from which habitable worlds, living systems, and eventually conscious beings arise. The work does not depict life itself, but the improbable groundwork that made life possible.
Supernova Residue No. 1 frames creation not as a single act, but as a long sequence of contingencies. In that sense, it reflects not only on cosmic history, but on human origin: on how something capable of memory, thought, and vulnerability could emerge from scattered remnants, given enough time, matter, and chance.
Red Mallee Burl (Eucalyptus oleosa), stainless steel and epoxy inlays.
8 lbs. 22" x 13" x 1-3/4"
Supernova Residue No. 1 reflects on the remote conditions from which human life ultimately became possible. Long before there were bodies, oceans, or breath, the elements necessary for life were forged in stellar violence and scattered across space. The reclaimed wood bears the record of earthly time and organic history, while the steel introduces a colder, more inert presence associated with cosmic residue—the aftermath of forces far older than the planet itself.
The work dwells on a threshold prior to life itself: the point at which raw matter, still marked by violence and dispersal, begins to approach the conditions from which future complexity might emerge. Its fissures, interruptions, and material contrasts suggest a world not yet inhabited, but no longer wholly barren—a field of remnants poised between aftermath and possibility.
That condition carries direct human significance. Every person begins in a chain of unlikely events extending back beyond biology to chemistry, and beyond chemistry to star-formed matter. What appears here as debris and fracture can also be understood as origin: the unstable material prehistory from which habitable worlds, living systems, and eventually conscious beings arise. The work does not depict life itself, but the improbable groundwork that made life possible.
Supernova Residue No. 1 frames creation not as a single act, but as a long sequence of contingencies. In that sense, it reflects not only on cosmic history, but on human origin: on how something capable of memory, thought, and vulnerability could emerge from scattered remnants, given enough time, matter, and chance.
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