I created Depths of Becoming in a completely different way than I'd ever worked before. Instead of marathon sessions, I let myself flow with natural rhythms—working in gentle waves, then stepping away to be with my children, my friends, my other passions. Each pause became as important as each contact with the sculpture. Each pause became a part of the sculpture.
This piece taught me about abundance. There's something magical that happens when you create from overflow rather than scarcity, when you're not rushing toward the finish but savouring each moment of becoming. The sculpture holds that energy—these flowing chambers and valleys emerged from a place of deep contentment, of being cleansed by my own creative flow.
Water was on my mind constantly. Not just any water, but that feeling of being washed clean, renewed. The bliss of the pauses between creating, made me fall in love with the process itself. Each time I returned to the work, I was slightly different—fuller, more abundant. The sculpture began to mirror that transformation back to me.
These flowing forms captured something I was experiencing in real time: shifting into a new version of myself. Someone who creates from wholeness rather than hunger. The deep valleys and soaring curves now wrapped in carbon fiber hold space for that kind of growth—the patient, abundant kind that happens when you're not forcing it.
The carbon fibre transformation completed the journey. The material of landscape drives and space exploration now holds the shape of personal transformation, of family time well spent, of creative flow that honours all parts of life. The automotive pattern gives momentum to the form. The aerospace weave catches light in these hidden chambers, creating shadows and reflections that shift as you move around the piece. Behind the flowing form, subtle details emerge and disappear depending on your perspective—abundance made visible, flow made permanent, with secrets that reveal themselves only to those who eventually get to look, long into the future.

