A Man of Wood: Stephen, the Mobile Sculptor of Prospect Park

Up on a small hill chips of basswood fall lightly, but in frequent bursts, as the wind chilled the air below 20 degrees.

A chisel, held in his wide, strong hand chipped away at a head made out of wood, making sharp, intricate divots as another hand slammed a rubber mallet on the butt of the chisel.

In an almost religious scene, the sculptor took a break and knelt on a camping mat under the trees of Prospect Park, just off of Prospect Park West. He carefully poured coffee from a Thermos and cupped it in one hand while his other hand put a pastry in his mouth.

Stephen, who is 65-years-old and works no more, was wearing two hooded jackets to help ward off the cold Monday afternoon in January.

He said he has been sculpting wood in the same spot, a nice secluded hill nestled a couple of feet in to the park, for years.

“It’s removed from most people and most people walking by don’t come up and look,” he explained while his eyes peered over his red-framed glasses resting on the tip of his nose. “It’s beautiful all year round and I would not be happy inside a studio.” 

Instead of being inside, he takes his mobile workbench that he designed and built, which is on three bicycle wheels, to the great outdoors of Brooklyn.

“It’s not just doing the sculpting, it just feels so great being outside and using tools with my hands,” Stephen said. “I love it.”

He is a creative mind and before he gave me his name, he asked the big tree standing above us for permission (but still requested that his last name be withheld).

He can be found chipping wood in his favorite spot, the exact location he asked not to be disclosed perhaps another request from the big tree, almost year round. 

“I’m not out here when it’s literally raining, but I have been out a couple of times while it was snowing,” he said as he removed his head from his hood, revealing a grey, wispy hair. “Within reason I’ll be out here, but my toes and fingers tend to get cold.”

But the best thing Stephen likes about this place, besides being a perfect place to sculpt wood, is that it is the exact spot where he met his wife.  

It was January 12, three years ago. It was bitterly cold and he was having trouble finishing a piece, a stubborn piece of wood clamped down to his mobile workbench with a couple of vises.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard a woman’s voice.

“‘What is that? Are you building a squirrel feeder?’” Stephen recalled her saying after she walked up the hill to speak with him.

She came closer, but then he gave her an annoyed look so she stood still.

“I was thinking of ignoring her, I was so frustrated with the piece I was working on,” he explained. “I was thinking, ‘Jeez, just leave me alone.’ But I decided to put down my tools and we started talking.”

They spoke for 45 minutes in the January chill, exchanged numbers and she told him that she usually goes the other direction in the park, but for some reason, she felt she had to make a left instead of a right.

Then, when she saw him working away with his various chisels, she felt that she had to go up and talk to him. So she did. 

A week or two later, they took a walk in the park and then went to , the bakery on Seventh Avenue.

“The next thing we knew they were putting the chairs up on the tables, literally it was five hours later,” he said.

The second time they met up, the same thing happened.

“I went home that evening, very even keeled, not head-over-heels, and I said to myself that there is no reason she would not want to get together with me,” Stephen said as he looked over the giant head made out of wood on his bench. “It was such an obvious thing, we were supposed to be together. If someone was watching us from a table over they would have said, ‘These people need to be together.’ And that’s what happened.”

A year-and-a-half later, they got married. That was a year-and-a-half ago. This month will be the third anniversary of their first encounter.

“Sculpture took care of the most important thing. I met her and we love each other incredibly,” he stated. “The mobile workbench made something happen in my life.”