For Eben Markowski, birds occupy a paradox that has driven years of work at the bench: creatures defined by weightlessness, rendered in the heaviest of materials. Having spent years alongside his partner rescuing robins, a grackle, and an owl, Eben developed an intimate, hands-on understanding of how birds actually hold themselves, the particular cant of a head, the tension in a folded wing, the readiness in a set of talons. That knowledge shows in the sculptures. Steel, chain, and salvaged hardware become feathers and beaks and hollow bones, each piece built to fight against its own density until it seems to lift off the mount. It's a technical high-wire act: coaxing lightness and motion out of a material that wants only to sit still and rust. The result is a body of work, from solitary raptors perched on stone to formations of birds caught mid-flight against a wall, that feels less like metalwork depicting birds and more like an argument, in steel, that flight and weight aren't actually opposites at all.