“Give me a field and it’s pure inspiration,” sculptor Thomas Sayre says. He likes stainless steel, sure, but at the moment, Sayre is into earthcasting, in which he “digs holes in Mother Earth, pours or sprays concrete into their shapes, and then stands them up against Father Sky.” Sayre wants to marry human intention and the grain of nature, which means that a 16-foot-tall, 30,000-pound piece is “small and intricate” for this artist who uses complex detailing and structural engineering to build his creations. Oh, and a very large crane.
Feature image: The massive sculptures that Sayre casts in dirt worldwide, including Flue in Kinston (above, right), begin as designs in an old plumbing supply warehouse in downtown Raleigh.
In North Carolina, spring brings the scent of fresh-cut grass and memories of helping Dad mow the lawn.
Nostalgic burger joints are like time machines, delivering something extra special that keeps us coming back.
This tiny city block in downtown Greensboro once had a gigantic reputation. Not so much for its charbroiled beef patties — though they, too, were plentiful — but for its colorful characters and their wild shenanigans.
In the 1950s, as Americans hit freshly paved roads in shiny new cars during the postwar boom, a new kind of restaurant took shape: the drive-in. From those first thin patties to the elaborate gourmet hamburgers of today, North Carolina has spent the past 80 years making burger history.
