When Pollard later encountered hawthorn wood after moving to Buckinghamshire, his practice shifted into something even more elusive. Hawthorn, long steeped in British folklore, carries with it stories of fairy realms, sacred rituals, and ancient magic. These narratives don’t just inspire his work—they inhabit it. The figures that emerge are often liminal, suspended between human, spirit, and something entirely unknowable, as though they’ve stepped out from the edges of myth and into form.
There’s an undeniable sense that these sculptures are not static. They feel like moments caught mid-transformation—wood becoming story, shadow becoming presence. Pollard speaks of carving as a kind of dialogue: the play of light revealing hidden shapes, the scent of the wood responding as he works, the slow unfolding of something already alive within. In this way, each piece becomes less about what is made, and more about what is discovered, a quiet, ongoing dance between artist and the ancient voices held deep within the grain.
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