August 3, 2025
By Samantha Syrnich (TLC)
An Open Letter to Chad Pilkington:
Chad,
Thank you for receiving my words with grace.
Your “thank you” reached me—but truly, it is I who carry the deeper gratitude.
There is something extraordinary about encountering a creator like you—whose hands shape beauty with reverence, whose craft feels born of memory and quiet fire. That you are self‑taught only deepens my awe. It’s a testament to what the human spirit can do when it listens—to wood, to silence, to something ancestral.
I hope someday to meet you in person. Until then, I hold in my heart the promise that one day, when the time is right, I will care for one of your priceless creations. But when I searched for just one piece to attach with this letter… I failed. I couldn’t choose. I wanted to showcase one—but each piece calls to something unique.
So instead, I’m sharing your entire portfolio, so others can witness the same reverence that moved me.
Here is the link: https://www.garryoakgallery.com/chad-pilkington.html
If I ever have the privilege of making one of yours, mine—you may need to choose it for me. My heart can’t decide. If it were up to me, I’d build a craftsman museum just to hold your work as legacy—a sacred hall honoring the intention and inspiration woven into each creation. To me, your pieces are not just art—they are memory carved into form.
I often wonder… what music moves through your space as you work? What thoughts, what dreams, what lineage guides your hands? Have you stood near a Native drum circle and felt the land’s heartbeat rise in your chest? Witnessed Native dances flicker like flame from the earth? Sat in a canoe shaped by hands that remember?
Please forgive my questions—they arise from reverence. I studied carving with Native carvers fifteen years ago, watching every slow, deliberate stroke. But my hands… they cannot do what yours can. I’ve been in awe since I was a tiny child—when my own initials were still TLC. That childhood wonder has only grown.
Perhaps that’s why your work speaks so deeply to me. It reminds me of what’s being lost. The elders. The teachings. The stories. We’ve buried so much in our hurry to move forward—but your art remembers. It listens. It honors.
I believe healing won’t come through power, but through intention. Through returning to the maker. Through reviving reverence. Even plants sing—science is finally listening. Trees too. So why do we still cut them down in rituals that have forgotten spirit?
What you do with wood is not exploitation—it is exaltation.
So thank you, Chad Pilkington—not just for your thank you, but for how you walk with wood. You remind the world what it means to honor a resource, to feel its soul before carving it into form. Your creations belong not just in homes—but in museums, in stories, in legacy, forever protected.
Your hands shape something that truly must be remembered.
With awe,
🐦🔥👣 — Samantha Syrnich (TLC)
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P.S.
While writing this letter, I played a song that seemed to breathe in rhythm with your craft. It’s called “Moon Over Sacred Ground,” a Native American composition released earlier this year. It weaves ceremonial drums with Choctaw-language vocals, and holds an atmosphere both ancient and present.
“Under moonlit sky, our ancestors’ shadows rise,
whispered songs drift over sacred ground.”
This track, just under ten minutes in length, echoes the very reverence I sense in your work—earthbound, remembering, alive. You can listen here:
🎶 Moon Over Sacred Ground: https://youtu.be/8VlYp_Q_DNs?si=MasZR2YXlhPQBABY
About This Image:
I chose this photo because it captures everything I hoped to honor in this letter—your artistry, your presence, your deep humanity. But even more than that, it reveals something words often fail to hold: your reverence for life itself. The way you cradle your carving, the quiet focus in your expression, and the tender nearness of your beloved dog… it all speaks of a life lived with intention.
To those who see this—look closely. This is what it means to love your craft, to walk gently with the world around you, and to create not just with your hands, but with your heart.
The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth 