Monkey Mike
Founder. Fire-burner. Beachcomber. Professional complimenter of trees.
It started with fire spinning.
For years it was fire poi and staff —
practice, heat, movement —
and at the end of the night, nothing but a memory
and the smell of paraffin.
I wanted something that still involved heat and flame —
but left something behind.
A hot tip.
A piece of wood.
A mark that stays.
Walk the beach. Find the piece. Read the grain. Burn the mark. Wax it. Let it go.
THE WOOD ISN'T A BLANK CANVAS.
Grain. Cracks. Spalting. Knots.
The material arrives with a history.
The job isn't to cover that up.
The job is to notice it.
Beach. Wood. Fire. Wax.
THE WALK
Lake Erie. About once a week, timed to storms.
A quiet stretch gives you nothing.
A good blow fills the beach.
THE PIECE
Sound. Substantial. Dry or dryable.
Punky wood and treated lumber go back.
Anything alive stays where it is.
THE CURE
Rinsed. Scrubbed. Cut.
Then weeks drying indoors.
Rush it and it cracks. Patience counts.
READ THE WOOD
Turn it in the light before touching the burner.
A knot might already be an eye.
A spalt line might already be a river.
The wood comes first.
FIRE
One heated nib. One stroke at a time.
Light contact: caramel. More heat: deep brown.
Time: black. No Ctrl-Z.
Nothing is stained or inked. That color is heat.
WAX
Beeswax from the family farm's hives.
Worked into the grain by hand.
No lacquer. No plastic.
Wax can be repaired. That's the point.
WEAR IT
Hemp cord finishes the pendants.
Some worn. Some hung. Some given away.
Then it leaves the bench.
Questions from the booth
You can make it, too.
Make one. Keep one. Leave one.
Earn when yours sells.
11% commission when your piece sells.
No experience needed. The wobble is proof a human made it.
Perfect isn't the point.
A machine can make a perfect line.
A person can make a meaningful one.
THE LAKE FOUND IT.
THE FIRE SIGNED IT.
YOU GET TO CARRY IT.
Nature made the design. I'm just complimenting it.