A walk into Tim Rowan’s studio at the end of a long, rocky driveway, situated deep in the woods above Stone Ridge, will give you the immediate impression that this guy communicates with the elements. He didn’t say so exactly, but his quiet demeanor when answering questions of the human sort belies a sensibility attuned to his chosen materials: clay and stone – silent, dense materials that require intense handling to bring out their most elemental beauty. Intensity like molding and carving and firing. Beauty worked, yet unrefined.
Rowan creates artifacts: pieces of sculpture large and small, unique unto themselves. Some look like machine parts that got knocked off another structure; some are entirely unidentifiable. Some are irregular vessels, like those unearthed from the societies of antiquity. Some are meant for taking tea, Japanese-style. No two pieces are alike. Nothing matches anything else. I asked, “Can you imagine someone digging this up a thousand years from now and wondering, ‘What is this?’”