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As a young child, I marveled at my father notching cypress logs as the cabin in which I grew up in the early 1950's took shape. Growing up with those interior logs, combined with the mystery of an old decoy my grandmother had given me from her attic, pressed something deep in me. I remember well my mother holding me up by my belt and her encouraging words as she allowed me to saw an extended exterior log from that cabin for my first bird. That is when I first peered over the edge of the nest into the world of sculpture.
-Grainger McKoy
