Archive for Todd Marckese

Remembering Todd Marckese

Posted in Artisanal, Furniture Making, Woodwork with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 1, 2012 by johnwiggers

Today is February 29th, and it was exactly 8 years ago today that a friend and client by the name of Todd Marckese passed away at the young age of 38.

I first met Todd while exhibiting at the Chicago Design Show in 1998. At the time he was principal of Marckese Design Studio in Orlando, Florida. His client list was prestigious and his work was recognized in many design publications including Architectural Digest, Florida Design and Showboats International.

Todd was exploring the idea of branding his own furniture collection, and he asked if I might be interested in doing product development and prototyping with him. We exchanged business cards, but it would be almost 5 years before we spoke again.

When he called in the summer of 2003, Todd asked if I remembered our conversation in Chicago. I did, largely because of the unusual business card he left behind. Measuring just over 2 inches square this card stuck out both literally and figuratively. Todd laughed at my observation, pointing out that it was necessary to be different in order to be remembered.

Todd went on to say that he was working on an upscale residence and the project required many unique pieces of custom furniture. One of the pieces he required was a desk, but it came with the proviso that his clients had strong holistic inclinations and, therefore, a conventional desk would not work. This, ultimately, laid the groundwork for the Kidney Shaped Desk making the transition from concept to reality.

In the ensuing months Todd and I developed a symbiotic working relationship as we collaborated on several custom furniture pieces for this particular project. In tandem with this we also began to discuss his dream of creating his own furniture collection. Through our discussions I got the distinct impression that Todd’s greatest passion was designing furniture. He mentioned several times how much he disliked shopping for fabrics, flooring and wall treatments, but as an interior designer this was the proverbial necessary evil for him to have projects that also allowed him to design actual furniture.

It was during one of our lengthy conversations about design and following one’s bliss that I mentioned an inspirational book entitled “This Time I Dance“, by Tama J. Kieves. In the book there is a quote made by Tama that goes something like this:

“If you’re this successful doing something you don’t love, just imagine how successful you could be doing something you do love.”

After a long pause Todd suddenly said, “That’s it, man; I’m doing it.”

“Doing what?” I asked.

“The furniture collection. I’m doing it. I’m not putting it off any more.”

What was so shocking about his announcement was not that he had decided to move forward with making his collection, but that he was going to devote his full time and energy to it. And when I say he was committing to it full time, that meant he had simultaneously decided to shut down his flourishing interior design business in the fearless pursuit of his dream.

Up until this point the bulk of the correspondence between us had been via fax, email, or phone. In late December Todd flew up from Orlando to visit my shop for the first time. I was more than a little surprised to see him showing up in the middle of a Canadian winter wearing little more than open toe sandals.

“I always wear sandals” proclaimed Todd “No matter what.”

One morning as we were driving up to my shop we came upon a car stuck in the deep snow of a ditch. I pulled over to give the guy a hand getting out, assuming that Todd (who was barefoot in his sandals) would simply wait in the truck. Todd was having none of that, and within seconds he too was knee deep in snow helping me push the guy out.

When we arrived at the shop Todd was like a kid in a candy store. Wide eyed and excited there were several times when he simply wandered off to follow his curiousity, and I’d have no idea where he was until I heard his booming voice calling out “Oohhhh Mannnn, that is soooo Coool!!!” over something incredible he had come across. We had several productive days during that visit as we worked out the details of the prototypes for his furniture collection.

In the evenings Teresa and I would have Todd over to the house for dinner, after which Todd and I would spend several more hours talking about furniture and design over beer. Invariably it would be Boddingtons or Guinness for me, while Todd’s preference was for an English ale called Old Speckled Hen.

By February Todd’s prototypes were well under way, and he had arranged to have the pieces photographed with an avant-garde photographer by the name of Walter Singh.

In addition to finishing up his remaining commissions and winding down his interior design business at the same time, Todd ended up scheduling himself for a long awaited surgery.

On Saturday February 28th Todd was at home recovering from the surgery, and we were having a lengthy phone discussion to review the status of his furniture pieces. At one point he unnerved me by saying “Aw Man, I’m dying.”

“Don’t put that out there.” I remember saying. “What are you talking about anyway?”

“The pain” he lamented “It’s killing me.”

That ended up being the last time I ever spoke with Todd, because in the early hours of the following morning he passed away in his sleep. He died at the young age of 38, leaving behind his lovely wife Melissa, and two beautiful children: Landon and Ireland.

Although I had only gotten to know Todd over the previous few months, his passing affected me deeply. Without question Todd was an extremely talented designer who was also a visionary in many ways. But more than that he was an original; one who was both fearless and big hearted as an individual, and who absolutely adored his wife and children.

If there was any solace to come out of his passing it came from something Melissa said a few weeks after Todd died. She told me that in all the years she had known him she had never seen Todd as happy as he was in the last few months of his life as he was finally pursuing his dream. That made me all the more pleased with the decision I had already made to finish off his furniture pieces, so his dream could come to reality.

The images that follow are the first pieces Todd designed for his furniture collection. Todd carefully selected all wood grains and tones to draw emotion and consistency throughout the collection, creating a unique line that not only captures the eye artistically, but in a manner that is environmentally conscious as well. Never forgetting his roots, each piece is the namesake of beloved people, locations and memorable events from his home state, Michigan.

Baroda Cocktail Table: 48″ dia x 18″ high, in Zebrawood.

Hinchman End Table: 24″ x 24″ x 26-1/4″ high finished in Jacobean Oak.

Hinchman Throw Table: 17-1/2″ dia. x 20″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak.

Hinchman Console: 54″ x 15″ x 32-1/2″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak with natural Curly English Sycamore top.

Hinchman Desk: 60″ x 30″ x 30-3/8″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak with black Tuscany leather inset top.

Hinchman Desk: Rear View

Lakeshore Screen: 4 panels each measuring 95″ high x 19-1/2″ wide, finished in Ebonized Oak with Damask strapping.

Lakeshore Mirror: 95″ high x 19-1/2″ wide x 1-3/4″ thick, finished in Ebonized Oak.

Tiscornia Coffee Table: 60″ long x 16″ wide x 17″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak.

Landon Desk: 84″ long x 26″ wide x 30″ high, finished in Mappa Burl with inset of black Tuscany leather.

Landon Desk: Rear View

Remembering Todd Marckese

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2011 by johnwiggers

In an earlier post I mentioned how a furniture designer by the name of Todd Marckese played a key role in finding a client for the initial prototype of the Kidney Shaped Desk.

I first met Todd while exhibiting at the Chicago Design Show in 1998. At the time he was principal of Marckese Design Studio in Orlando, Florida. His client list was prestigious and his work was recognized in many design publications including Architectural Digest, Florida Design and Showboats International.

Todd was exploring the idea of branding his own furniture collection, and he asked if I might be interested in doing product development and prototyping with him. We exchanged business cards, but it would be almost 5 years before we spoke again.

When he called in the summer of 2003, Todd asked if I remembered our conversation in Chicago. I did, largely because of the unusual business card he left behind. Measuring just over 2 inches square this card stuck out both literally and figuratively. Todd laughed at my observation, pointing out that it was necessary to be different in order to be remembered.

Todd went on to say that he was working on an upscale residence and the project required many unique pieces of custom furniture. One of the pieces he required was a desk, but it came with the proviso that his clients had strong holistic inclinations and, therefore, a conventional desk would not work. This, ultimately, laid the groundwork for the Kidney Shaped Desk making the transition from concept to reality.

In the ensuing months Todd and I developed a symbiotic working relationship as we worked together on several custom furniture pieces for this particular project. In tandem with this we also began to discuss his dream of creating his own furniture collection. Through our discussions I got the distinct impression that Todd’s greatest passion was designing furniture. He mentioned several times how much he disliked shopping for fabrics, flooring and wall treatments, but as an interior designer this was the proverbial necessary evil for him to have projects that also allowed him to design actual furniture.

It was during one of our lengthy conversations about design and following one’s bliss that I made reference to an inspirational book entitled “This Time I Dance“, by Tama J. Kieves. In the book there is a quote made by Tama that goes something like this:

“If you’re this successful doing something you don’t love, just imagine how successful you could be doing something you do love.”

After a long pause Todd suddenly said, “That’s it, man; I’m doing it.”

“Doing what?” I asked.

“The furniture collection. I’m doing it. I’m not putting it off any more.”

What was so shocking about his announcement was not that he had decided to move forward with making his collection, but that he was going to devote his full time and energy to it. And when I say he was committing to it full time, that meant he had simultaneously decided to shut down his flourishing interior design business in the fearless pursuit of his dream.

Up until this point the bulk of the correspondence between us had been via fax, email, or phone. In late December Todd flew up from Orlando to visit my shop for the first time. I was more than a little surprised to see him showing up in the middle of a Canadian winter wearing little more than open toe sandals.

“I always wear sandals” proclaimed Todd “No matter what.”

One morning as we were driving up to my shop we came upon a car stuck in the deep snow of a ditch. I pulled over to give the guy a hand getting out, assuming that Todd (who was barefoot in his sandals) would simply wait in the truck. Todd was having none of that, and within seconds he too was knee deep in snow helping me push the guy out.

When we arrived at the shop Todd was like a kid in a candy store. Wide eyed and excited there were several times when he simply wandered off to follow his curiousity, and I’d have no idea where he was until I heard his booming voice calling out “Oohhhh Mannnn, that is soooo Coool!!!” over something incredible he had come across. We had several productive days during that visit as we worked out the details of the prototypes for his furniture collection.

In the evenings Teresa and I would have Todd over to the house for dinner, after which Todd and I would spend several more hours talking about furniture and design over beer. Invariably it would be Boddingtons or Guinness for me, while Todd’s preference was for an English ale called Old Speckled Hen.

By February Todd’s prototypes were well under way, and he had arranged to have the pieces photographed with an avant-garde photographer by the name of Walter Singh.

In addition to finishing up his remaining commissions and winding down his interior design business at the same time, Todd ended up scheduling himself for a long awaited surgery.

On Saturday February 28th Todd was at home recovering from the surgery, and we were having a lengthy phone discussion to review the status of his furniture pieces. At one point he unnerved me by saying “Aw Man, I’m dying.”

“Don’t put that out there.” I remember saying. “What are you talking about anyway?”

“The pain” he lamented “It’s killing me.”

That ended up being the last time I ever spoke with Todd, because in the early hours of the following morning he passed away in his sleep. He died at the young age of 38, leaving behind his lovely wife Melissa, and two beautiful children: Landon and Ireland.

Although I had only gotten to know Todd over the previous few months, his passing affected me deeply. Without question Todd was an extremely talented designer who was also a visionary in many ways. But more than that he was an original; one who was both fearless and big hearted as an individual, and who absolutely adored his wife and children.

If there was any solace to come out of his passing it came from something Melissa said a few weeks after Todd died. She told me that in all the years she had known him she had never seen Todd as happy as he was in the last few months of his life as he was finally pursuing his dream. That made me all the more pleased with the decision I had already made to finish off his furniture pieces, so his dream could come to reality.

The images that follow are the first pieces Todd designed for his furniture collection. Todd carefully selected all wood grains and tones to draw emotion and consistency throughout the collection, creating a unique line that not only captures the eye artistically, but in a manner that is environmentally conscious as well. Never forgetting his roots, each piece is the namesake of beloved people, locations and memorable events from his home state, Michigan.

Baroda Cocktail Table: 48″ dia x 18″ high, in Zebrawood.

Hinchman End Table: 24″ x 24″ x 26-1/4″ high finished in Jacobean Oak.

Hinchman Throw Table: 17-1/2″ dia. x 20″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak.

Hinchman Console: 54″ x 15″ x 32-1/2″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak with natural Curly English Sycamore top.

Hinchman Desk: 60″ x 30″ x 30-3/8″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak with black Tuscany leather inset top.

Hinchman Desk: Rear View

Lakeshore Screen: 4 panels each measuring 95″ high x 19-1/2″ wide, finished in Ebonized Oak with Damask strapping.

Lakeshore Mirror: 95″ high x 19-1/2″ wide x 1-3/4″ thick, finished in Ebonized Oak.

Tiscornia Coffee Table: 60″ long x 16″ wide x 17″ high, finished in Jacobean Oak.

Landon Desk: 84″ long x 26″ wide x 30″ high, finished in Mappa Burl with inset of black Tuscany leather.

Landon Desk: Rear View

Kidney Shaped Desk – The Story Behind Its Creation

Posted in Artisanal, FSC, Furniture Making, Woodworking with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2011 by johnwiggers

In 2002 I was experimenting with ideas that would ultimately manifest as the Kidney Shaped Desk. My initial concept was an organic form that would incorporate a variety of green and holistic elements into the design. Given that Feng Shui principles consider a kidney shape to be most auspicious for use as a desk, I used this as my starting point.

During a visit to Miami in April of that year I floated the idea to Amelia Hyde and Monroe Sherman, who were partners in a showroom called Carriage House which was then representing my work in South Florida. Amy seemed quite receptive to the idea, which was no surprise given her interest in spiritual philosophies such as Tao and Zen Buddhism.

About a week after my return Amy called and asked me to explain more about the Ayurveda I was talking about during my visit. I didn’t have a clue what she was referring to and told her I could barely pronounce the word, let alone spell it. But for some reason Amy insisted that I had talked at length about Ayurveda and as she described what it was about she mentioned the connection of Ayurveda to yoga, and the connection of yoga to a famous supermodel and yoga practitioner by the name of Christy Turlington.

As soon as she mentioned Christy’s name I heard my fax line ring. It was an incoming fax from New York, from a furniture designer by the name of Vladimir Kagan. He was inviting me to a special party being held later that month. The invitation was for an event being hosted by Ralph Pucci in his Manhattan loft, which would be a joint unveiling of Vladimir Kagan’s furniture pieces alongside a new line of yoga inspired clothing by Christy Turlington.

Because of this unusual coincidence I decided to trust my intuition and immediately decided to accept. Since the party coincided with a major New York design show called the International Contemporary Furniture Fair (ICFF) that I was planning to attend anyway, the logistics worked out perfectly.

After arriving at the designated address in lower Manhattan I stepped out of the cab thinking I was in the wrong location. I had been told that Pucci’s loft was magnificent, but the neighbourhood I was standing in was anything but. Nevertheless a discrete elevator ride to the loft soon confirmed that I was at the proper venue.

As soon as the elevator doors opened I was greeted with a palpable buzz of energy and excitment. Scattered throughout the 15,000 sq. ft. minimalist loft were countless bisque mannequins that were essentially full-scale reproductions of Christy Turlington herself. These mannequins were shown in a variety of different yoga poses and, naturally, each was also attired in various examples of Christy’s new clothing collection, called Nuala.

At the far end of the loft Vladimir Kagan was holding court amongst examples of his classic furniture collection. As soon as Vladimir saw me walk in he called me over and gave a big hug. It was wonderful to be greeted in this manner by such a design legend, because I had long admired his work.

When I was younger I used to enjoy reading various design publications to see examples of the most beautiful and exquisite furniture pieces ever made. A Rosewood desk by Vladimir Kagan had long been one of my favorites, and never could I have imagined at the time that one day I would be working with this icon to build some of his actual furniture.

As I walked around the loft and mingled with other guests I began to ponder the coincidence of being invited to this party. At one point I did get introduced to Christy, and did have a brief conversation with her. While our discussion did not provide any particular answer or overt moment of enlightenment for me, I was definitely struck by Christy’s open sincerity and genuineness. She is one of the very few people I have ever met who have an aura of presence that absolutely radiates positive energy.

By the end of the evening I left party pondering the enigma of attending an event that displayed beautiful, sculptural furniture alongside an ancient holistic principle such as yoga. When considering Ayurveda as the thread connecting the two, how would it be possible to merge them together as one?

The answer, I soon discovered, lay with someone I already knew.

Diana Beresford-Kroeger is an award winning author, independent scientist and passionate environmentalist living near Ottawa, Canada. On a secluded rural property shared with her husband Christian, Diana has spent many years and considerable effort researching and documenting the interconnected relationships that exist between trees and forests, and the wildlife that abounds within.

She is highly regarding for her illuminating and seminal work, and amongst her many admirers are colleagues such as E.O. Wilson of Harvard. In the 1960s Wilson effectively became the founding grandfather of the global environmental movement when he first coined the phrase “bio-diversity”.

I first learned about Diana in 1999 when I read a newspaper article describing her “Millenium Project”. The vision of this project was to share and distribute seeds from Diana’s collection of rare and endangered tree species. By doing this she hoped to establish new living examples of genetic strains that were at risk of becoming extinct.

In addition, by distributing these seeds widely it was also hoped that the resulting seedlings would become isolated pockets of bio-diversity, as well as a form of insurance policy in case disease, blight or other disaster happened to wipe out the sentinel trees that provided the original genetic material. Since in some cases there were only singular examples of these rare trees known to exist, this was a very valid and noble ambition.

Her “Millenium Project” sounded brilliant, and I contacted her to learn how I could participate. At the time I was in the planning stages of building a new shop, and the notion of introducing rare and unusual trees to the property seemed like a perfect one. Diana helped develop a bioplan for what I was intending to create, and over time our discussions evolved into an ever expanding exchange of ideas.

After my return from New York I continued to wrestle with the idea of how to meld holistic Ayurvedic principles with sculpture furniture design. Simultaneously I was talking with Diana about her latest book manuscript, entitled “Arboretum America”. She was having great difficulty getting this book published, and in an effort to get the word out she went to great lengths describing what the book was intending to say.

I listened with great interest as Diana explained the book, and how each of the 20 tree species described within were presented by way of their biological eco-function within the larger global garden. My interest was piqued further as Diana explained how each tree had a particular holistic attribute, or “gift”.

Apparently much of the information collected by Diana had originally come from Native American elders and healers. Her desire to document this traditional wisdom was driven by the fact that many of these elders were quite old, and once they died they would take their knowledge with them to the grave. Considering that most indigenous cultures base their information sharing and retention on oral tradition -with very little being written down – it was quite apparent that once this knowledge was lost it would be lost forever.

Eager to help Diana get her book published I invited her to an informal gathering that was to take place in Ottawa later that year, in conjunction with an FSC Canada board meeting being held there. Given that the event would be filled almost exclusively with people interested in protecting the forest, I felt certain that something beneficial for Diana would unfold.

On Saturday October 19th a number of us were gathered at the home of one of the Board members, who happened to live nearby. Diana and her husband Christian were in attendance as well, but before long it appeared that the evening would not unfold as hoped for.

After a day of intensive Board meetings most people were simply looking to unwind. Diana, on the other hand, was quietly eager to network and find means of clearing hurdles to her book. But aside from some polite discussion and general exchange of ideas no one was expressing any serious interest in her research. I felt disappointed that they may have wasted their time coming here.
At one point, however, one of the Board members was casually flipping through the manuscript when something caught her eye. In describing the medicine of a tree called Black Walnut (Juglans nigra), Diana had pointed out that this tree’s active molecules (known scientifically as ellagitannins) were currently at the leading edge of ongoing research into finding a cure for cancer. Apparently Native American medicine women had discovered through many years of trial, error and observation that this tree’s natural properties were helpful in preventing disease.

Within minutes several women were tightly huddled around the book, reading with intense fascination. I glanced over to where Diana and Christian were sitting, and exchanged a smile. Not only had a catalyst been found to suddenly pique interest in the manuscript but I too had discovered, by default, the vehicle for melding Ayurvedic principles with sculptural furniture design.

Why not create furniture that incorporated discrete inlays of holistic woods, and let these examples become a tangible and tactile means of communicating the same message that Diana was trying to say on paper?

In the months that followed my ideas surrounding this concept continued to swirl in my mind. Ultimately they became manifest in a design called the Kidney Shaped Desk. Using careful mathematics and sacred geometric proportions based on Feng Shui and Vastu Shastra principles, this desk was also designed to utilize discrete inlays of wood that were ultimately suited to their particular holistic attributes.

For example, special cuttings of Black Walnut would be used to make finger pulls on the underside of drawers. In this way the act of opening the drawers would allow the active molecules of the wood to come into contact with one’s skin, where the molecules could be naturally absorbed into the pores. Inside the pencil drawer woods such as Hawthorn and Sassafras would be incorporated for their natural holistic and aroma-therapeutic properties. The scents of these woods would accumulate naturally inside the drawer while it was closed – and released each time the drawer was opened.

For the time that her manuscript remained unpublished, Diana asked me to sit on the information. Her concern was that if the knowledge was shared too early it might scuttle publication of the book. Out of respect, I complied. In the meantime the hiatus gave me ample opportunity to tweak and fine tune the proportions of the desk until everything was perfect.

It wasn’t until the following year that Diana called to say that University of Michigan Press had committed to publishing her book. At this stage she also gave me the green light to proceed with the desk, and help communicate the medicinal knowledge of the trees.

“It’s time”, she said.

Although eager to see this design manifest into reality, I was in no financial position to undertake the building of a prototype simply because it seemed like a great idea. Unless a buyer could be found who would commit to buying the finished piece before it was made, this design would have to be shelved indefinitely.

Little did I know that within days a buyer would end up appearing, in the form of a design visionary by the name of Todd Marckese.

I first met Todd while exhibiting at the Chicago Design Show in 1998. At the time he was principal of Marckese Design Studio in Orlando, Florida. His client list was prestigious and his work was recognised in many design publications including Architectural Digest, Florida Design and Showboats International.

Todd was exploring the idea of branding his own furniture collection, and he asked if I might be interested in doing product development and prototyping with him. We exchanged business cards, but it would be almost 5 years before we spoke again.

When he called in the summer of 2003, Todd asked if I remembered our conversation in Chicago. I did, largely because of the unusual business card he left behind. Measuring just over 2 inches square this card stuck out both literally and figuratively. Todd laughed at my observation, pointing out that it was necessary to be different in order to be remembered.

Todd went on to say that he was working on an upscale residence and the project required many unique pieces of custom furniture design. One of the pieces he was looking for was a desk, but it came with the proviso that his clients had strong holistic inclinations and, therefore, a conventional desk would not work.

As he described the parameters of the project my interest level piqued because it seemed the Kidney Shaped Desk design I had been tweaking for almost a year would meet the specifications perfectly. I faxed him the drawings and explained in detail the holistic attributes of the various woods I was intending to use as inlay.

After presenting the proposal to his clients, they fell in love with the idea and ended up commissioning the desk. The resulting piece measured 75″ x 35″ x 31-3/4″ overall height.

The main structure was crafted from FSC certified ply, and laminated with Macassar Ebony veneer. The inset of black Tuscany leather was bordered with a radiating grain pattern of wood that was cut to allow it to cascade like a waterfall down the vertical sides of the apron. The plinths on the legs were satin stainless steel.

Inset into the back of the desk were 3 drawers crafted from solid cherry. These drawers were mounted to the Macassar drawer fronts my means of sliding dovetail construction.

Inside the pencil drawer was a pair of trays made of a wood called Sassafras (Sassafras albidum). Sassafras carries within it an oil based complex of compounds that are naturally saturated within the wood itself – both as a wax and as oil. Through handling and the bumping action of contents (i.e. pencils and pens) rolling against the fibers of this wood, the oils contained within the Sassafras are released as an aerosol each time the tray is opened and exposed to air.

The oil of the Sassafras is related to Myrrh, one of the legendary woods of the ancient world. Sassafras is also the wood used for spiritual cleansing by many tribes of North American indigenous peoples, in the traditional sweat lodge ceremony.

Centered between the trays is a small storage compartment crafted from a block of rare wood known as Hawthorn (Crataegus). Hawthorn is a traditional healing wood that has been used in medicinal practice for a considerable period of time. It was well known to the ancient Greek herbalists, and records indicate that it has been used in Ayurvedic medicine dating back almost 5,000 years.

Hawthorn is an aroma-therapeutic healing wood since it produces an aerosol of complex compounds – all of which are medicinal. The primary benefit of the aroma-therapeutic properties of the Hawthorn is to help alleviate stress and strengthen the heart. According to Diana Beresford-Kroeger this aerosol is considered to be a tonic to the human body, since it helps to promote an overall feeling of well-being. This state increases the ability of the deep centers of the brain to promote increased and clearer thinking.

The Hawthorn storage compartment was covered with a lid that was crafted from the same cutting of Black Walnut used to make the inlaid finger pulls on the underside of the drawers. Set into the face of the lid were inlays of the three traditional healing metals of gold, silver and copper. Working with a jeweller these precious metals custom crafted into the shapes of an Eagle, Turtle and the sacred Tree of Life, respectively.

Collectively these 3 images tell the aboriginal story of Creation, which is essentially a parable that tells of the emergence into the current world after the previous one was destroyed by a great Flood.

Flood legends are found in the mythology of most ancient civilizations; from the Sumerians, Babylonians and Egyptians of the Middle East, to India, China and in the Americas in the myths of the Mayans, Aztecs, Hopi and numerous other Native American tribes. In Western society the most recognised of these legends is the story of Noah and the Ark, as recounted in Biblical story of Genesis.