Subject : Sculpture Lotus flower- Medium : Portland Limestone- Year : 2025

Subject : Sculpture Abstract head- Medium : Lime wood- Year : 2025

Subject : Sculpture Gargoyle head- Medium : Lime wood- Year : 2025

Subject : Sculpture Lindisfarne Bible inpired abstract form- Medium : Portland Limestone- Year : 2026

I have a series of wooden miniature sculptures of wizards which was inspired by the idea of rubber duck debugging. I call these sculptures Desk Wizard's, you will see a sample of three below

I am about to launch an etsy shop to sell my sculptures, this box you see is some of my hand printed packaging , the stamp I hand carved

Desk Wizard: Lord Godwin of the wizard guild

Clak, clak, clak, his staff echoed down the whitewashed chalky hallway, quickly gaining on the large fading doors at the terminus. Tick, tick, tick the guildhall clock quietly murmured whilst the grit from the wobbly parquet floor, ground under the ball of his foot. He marched by the long row of dusty lattice windows. Their dull light gleamed off his shiny gold buttons and made the red of his velvet cloak burn with a deep crimson. Ting, ting, ting the clock struck 7.00, and with a sharp authoritative shove he opened the doors. He stands on the floor of the once grand Guildhall, its oval walls looming, alcoves dotted around its circumference, each missing a sculpture like an absent friend. On the carpet is a large imprint of a table that once encompassed the whole floorspace where now stands a smaller table, like a child placing its foot into the footprint of its parent. Godwin takes his seat facing the door, opens the minute book,and waits for the people that never arrive.

Desk Wizard: Tupin the astronomer

Tupin went tramping through the field in the cold dead of night. Her large cozy cloak covered her whole body from head to toe in a warm woolen cocoon, protecting her from the biting cold, only the center of her hidden face was exposed to the element. The tall wet grass painted the brim of her coin round hat with dew leaving a spattering of damp freckles behind. She marched on, and found the grass getting shorter and shorter until she got to a quiet clearing, surrounded on all sides by a wall of thick grass. Here she looked up, it was a cloudless glassy night. The coldness made it feel like the stars were shining all the brighter. She took her hat off and threw it on the ground tip first and it stood there like a spinning top frozen in time. The hole where her head would have been was a perfect reflection of the stars above. She strode forward and bent over like a curing index finger, face first into the hole of the hat,her face breaking the barrier of the mirror and she found herself among the stars.

Desk Wizard: The tall wizard of the moving loch

From the wind swept isles of Orkney in the north sea to the eternal battle between the Atlantic and the great granite cliffs at the foot of Cornwall,the loch travels. As the eyelid of dusk covers the day you can find it in the thin final sliver of light. The loch, broad and silver, dappled with the light, flat to the horizon, water lapping over the edge and foam drifting off like a field of dandelions hit with a sudden gust. A lone tall twisting silhouette stands on the flashing water like a proud captain, the tall wizard of the moving loch. No one knows why the wizard does what he does. The loch appears in fields, towns and motorways, without rhyme or reason, when the loch covers an area, it disappears, replaced with this body of water that goes from deep blue to black, seemingly having no bottom. The wizard Dwells in this water, moving from one invisible floor to another as if browsing a library and never seeming to get wet.

Desk Wizard: The watcher on the bleeding cliffs

The bleeding cliffs have been looming over the sea since the dawn of time. But little is known about the watcher. Where he comes from, what he calls himself or why he watches. But the fisherman care. They believe that if they see him watching the waves from his lofty perch, as they leave safe harbour, when they see his long cloak and long arching arm, that time itself will be ignored. They know that whilst they will have put in a full days labour, they will be back in port within the hour… or so i t will seem to those souls left ashore.

Gallery