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Featured Videos

Featured Videos

Video Library

A collection of all the videos made about and inspired by the Haliburton Sculpture Forest.

About the Sculptures

Discover from curators and artists the stories behind some of the sculptures in the Haliburton Sculpture Forest.

Medecines of the Haliburton Sculpture Forest

The Medicines of the Sculpture Forest series is led by Joseph Pitawanakwat who is Anishinabe from Wiikwimkonng unceded territory on Manitoulin Island. Joseph Pitawanakwat is an educator who specializes in plant-based medicine. Follow along with us to learn about the plants of the Haliburton Sculpture Forest and their medicinal uses.

Visitor Stories

One of the best parts of the Sculpture Forest is all of the stories that are connected to the sculptures. In the summer and fall of 2020, we posted short video clips and written stories sent in from some of our visitors sharing their stories about the Sculpture Forest! And we loved to hear from you!

Events

Over the past decade we have hosted numerous events at the Sculpture Forest. Dive into our history to discover the different artists and performers who have been inspired by our grounds.

Twilight in the Sculpture Forest by James Morehead
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Twilight in the Sculpture Forest by James Morehead

"Twilight in the Sculpture Forest" - a poetry film written + narrated by James Morehead (Poet Laureate - Dublin, CA), and filmed + edited by Brad Brown. Filmed on location at the Haliburton Sculpture Forest, Haliburton, Ontario, Canada. Twilight in The Sculpture Forest copyright 2022 James Morehead The guardians have always stood at the trailhead, rusting in the sun. They are totems of a kind: father, mother, and their child, spines assembled from sickle and shovel, discarded metal things for arms, queer unblinking eyes and smiles. I do not linger for their blessing when passing through the trees. Gelert greets me: Irish protector, majestic, cast in bronze, nose ever tilting upward to detect the scent of hunting wolves on basswood, balsam fir, and pine. I caress his cool back, then move on. The forest pulls me deeper in where Pan is playing on his flute, each note suspended, held and silent, embedded in Canadian shield. Green-gray shadows fill my wake; canopy diffuses all sunlight. I pass a hiker in limestone: they wear a badge of maple leaf, ever autumn, reddish brown. One foot forward, one set back, a smile, a wink, or so I think, for their face is featureless— a simple orb of clean, smooth stone. Curious, a chain mail book, forged steel covers bolted down and each page sounds a rattle and crash. But, despite how long I gaze, its mysteries—hidden still, concealed by fire. I almost miss her as I pass, carved from Belmont Rose. The sleeping huntress, feathered hair and naked skin cut from a block, then set upon the forest floor. Up ahead a beaver sits, drawn from cement, with iron teeth, to gaze upon a single lamp post: steel, graffitied, out of place. Turn the corner a granite gneiss dome, low arched door and bench inside; I rest awhile where echoes dwell. “Silence is the language of God,” Rumi’s words inscribed, “all else is poor translation.” I’ve lingered long, twilight has come, the sculptures now—no longer stone. Welded wire forms a man: his arms reach up to welcome night, unsettling, just mesh for skin. They came before (now all sleep) Each paralyzed (secrets to keep) So I lie (but for a while) At midnight’s turn I try to rise, limbs locked in place, bereft, alone, until I hear footsteps are near, what are these passersby to think? I cannot call tongue turned to stone.

About Haliburton Highlands

Learn more about Haliburton Highlands and the surrounding area of the Sculpture Forest.

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