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pine that survived the agonies of the Great Monongahela Fire, or an eagle poised to soar in a block of basswood.
Oley Hill has the knowledge to identity, the vision to see, and the skills and patience to release his vision from the wood in which it is hidden.
He says that he’s retired now, and likes to carve wood. I say that he’s endowed with the gifts that enable him to strip that wood down to the essence that lies within.
He told me that “you can’t improve on nature,” but, looking at the work that he has done, I’m not as certain.
At home in
Amissville
Oley and his wife Betty live in a charming home set on a hillside on Route 645 in Amissville.
Neat as a pin inside and out, the house that the Hill’s built is a showplace for their art.
Not only are Oley’s sculptures on display and hidden in nooks and crannies everywhere, but Betty’s excellent paintings adorn the walls and bookshelves and sit upon the TV. One of her treasures is the wall she painted next to the upstairs bathtub. It shows a faux duck-filled pond that I was all set to jump in to.
To the right of the house is a two-car garage, with its loft packed with walnut and poplar planks, royal paulownia logs, maple burl, sections of dried poison oak vine. These raw materials await an inspiration that is not yet obvious, perhaps not even to Oley.
Downstairs, in the back of the garage, is a small workshop that houses a simple bench lathe, a wood stove, blanks of wood of all sorts, and a collection of walking sticks and letter openers fashioned
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