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Tag: wood art
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The Joy of Saying “Yes, I Made That”
…and then watching their jaw drop
There’s this moment—if you’re lucky enough to catch it—when someone’s eyes go wide and their mouth falls open just a little. It’s the moment of realization. And if you’re Rex, that moment usually comes right after he casually says, “Yeah… I made that.”
It surprises him every time.
Honestly, it took five whole years of people telling him his handmade woodworking was art before he actually believed it. (Spoiler alert: I was one of those people—repeatedly.) It’s been a journey, not just of skill, but of confidence. Somewhere along the way, he stopped seeing it as just woodworking. He started recognizing the craft, the story, the artisan woodworking in every hand-carved spoon, every custom bowl, every intensely detailed piece.
It changed everything.
Learning What’s Worth It
That realization meant letting go of the pressure to carry “filler” pieces just to have more variety. No more grabbing “small stuff” to try and lure people in. We’ve learned something important: if the fine art is strong, it doesn’t need to shout. It just needs to show up—honestly, beautifully, and unapologetically.
And when someone gasps at our veteran-made art? It’s a little gift in return.
Yes, there are shows we thrive at (fine art festivals? Absolutely. Renaissance faires? All in. Small craft fairs with no “fine” in the title? Maybe not until we’ve got a motorhome and mobile shop setup.) But now we know where we fit—and where we shine.
The Work You See and the Work You Don’t
Rex has stepped up in incredible ways with his wood art pieces lately. The pride he takes in them radiates right off the festival table. He’ll look at something like “Intensity” or a new hand-carved spoon, smile a little to himself, and say those magic words again: “Yes, I made that.”
And me? Well, I’m doing the same—but behind a keyboard and a camera. The website, the photos, the story you’re reading now… that’s my “I made that.” And when Rex sees something I’ve posted and gasps? That’s my moment.
This journey we’re on—it’s personal, it’s powerful, and it’s full of jaw-drop moments. We’re learning to own our craft, say yes to the right shows, and say “I made that” with handcrafted pride.
Every piece we create becomes part of someone’s story. Whether it’s a cutting board that hosts family gatherings or a decorative bowl that sparks conversations, these handmade heirlooms carry forward the joy of that first moment when someone realizes the beauty in front of them was crafted by hand, with love, right here in our workshop.
As always, we’re here if you have questions or just want to chat about wood! Thanks for being part of our story—we love sharing the journey with you.
Ready to bring home your own “Yes, I made that” moment? Browse our collection of one-of-a-kind wood art pieces, each crafted with 40+ years of expertise and designed to become part of your family’s story.
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“Bad Doggie, No Biscuit”: When Festival Magic Meets Umbrella Justice
Festival Memories That Still Make Us Smile
Some stories stick with you like sawdust on your work clothes — the kind that make you grin unexpectedly while carving a new piece. This one comes from our Kansas City Renaissance Festival days, complete with haunted houses, umbrella-wielding grandmothers, and legendary laughter. 🎃
Back When Fairs Had Soul
Years ago, I was part of a Renaissance festival community — not today’s cookie-cutter corporate fairs, but the genuine article run by the Kansas City Art Institute. The site was seven (7) miles from my home and I still consider KCRF my home faire. Handmade everything, cobbled-together magic, and wonderfully odd theater folk who’d make Monty Python proud.
During the off-season, we often created haunted houses. Picture classic monsters lurking in carefully crafted scenes, animatronics jury-rigged by creative actors, and an entrance tunnel so disorienting that most visitors missed the first path split entirely.
The Setup
Our werewolf friend worked the “sissy path” — the gentler route with fewer jump scares but still plenty of atmosphere. His big moment came after gruesome dioramas: leap from the shadows screaming whatever seemed scariest that night.
The Legend is Born
Enter one rainy evening and an elderly Eastern European grandmother, separated from her grandchildren who’d convinced her to brave the maze. Picture old-world elegance: black headscarf, long coat, large umbrella doubling as a walking cane.
She’d been stoic throughout — no screams, just occasional disapproving tongue clicks at the displays. Completely unflappable.
Until our werewolf made his move.
“DINNER!” he roared, leaping toward what seemed like an easy mark.
Without missing a beat, she swung her umbrella with fencer’s precision — THWACK — right between his eyes.
In her magnificently stern, accented voice:
“Bad doggie. No biscuit.”
Then, with a satisfied “hmph,” she repositioned her umbrella and walked straight to her confused grandchildren.
The Ripple Effect
Sound carries in haunted houses.🎃 Every actor heard that moment of umbrella justice, and not one could keep a straight scary face afterward. The howling laughter probably terrified more patrons than our carefully crafted scares.
Many wished they’d witnessed it (I know I did). Those present were sad they missed giving her the standing ovation she deserved.
What This Means Today
Festival folk are strange and wonderful people who collect stories like souvenirs. At Sarkanys Rising, every handcrafted piece carries that same spirit — authentic craftsmanship with unexpected delight.
When you pick up one of our wooden creations, you’re getting something with soul, made by people who believe in handmade magic. Because the best stories, like the best art, come from real moments that become conversation starters and memory makers.
These days, when you hear me (Dawn) say “no biscuit” in an unusual accent, you’ll know why. Some moments are too perfect not to carry forward. Will we see you at our first Renaissance Festival this year? Looking forward to making new memories.