Miller's Time<br>Artist's eagle honors Keesler Published March 23, 2010 By Angela Cutrer 81st Training Wing Public Affairs KEESLER AIR FORCE BASE, Miss. -- Since 2007, Marlin Miller has listened to the voices of the dead. They speak to him of the past. Of the possibilities. Of the potential. Because of those voices, Miller left his mark on south Mississippi from Wiggins to Waveland, from Ocean Springs and through all parts of Biloxi. Using abandoned ancient oak trees left with twisted appendages, Mr. Miller transforms these giant fatalities into living messages of hope. Through the Katrina Sculpture Project, Mr. Miller, 49, donates his time to carve back into life the famous oaks killed by the storm of the century. Keesler is now included in that scenario, thanks to Mr. Miller's newest creation: a soaring eagle tending the front landscape of the new $60 million exchange and commissary. Discovered at the Mississippi Coast Coliseum after 2005's Hurricane Katrina, the massive 7½-ton remnant of a once-mighty tree immediately addressed Mr. Miller. "I saw it and said, look at those wings," he says. So, with a dedicated and exhausting weekend's worth of work, Mr. Miller turned the tree section into a phoenix rising from a 5-foot deep hole filled with concrete and a 2005 penny. "Keesler is such a big, important part of Biloxi," says Mr. Miller. "What better place to put an eagle? I mean, how appropriate for an Air Force base." Keesler has Paula Strawn, services business manager for the Army and Air Force Exchange Service at Keesler, to thank for the initial contact with Mr. Miller. Ms. Strawn met him and his wife, Rene, at the Peter Anderson Festival, an annual event named for another artist, the late master potter and founder of Shearwater Pottery in Ocean Springs. She offered Mr. Miller, who only does the carvings as a community-service project, a chance to express his feelings about the base. "I'm not motivated by money -- you couldn't pay me enough to do what it took me to do that entire weekend," says Mr. Miller. "The attention to detail is extraordinary, so this is something you do not do because you are motivated by money. You do it because you want to." Mr. Miller's known for returning the checks of well-meaning admirers with a photo of the sculpture of concern. But he's not immune to the sneaky ones. "I can be working on a sculpture, and no one will be there," he says. "Then, I'll step back to see how things are going with the work, and I'll trip over a prayer shawl, jars of jelly, tea sets, hanging angels -- I mean, they leave all kinds of things." He points to one of those swinging angels now hanging from his truck's mirror. "I don't know how to send those back, so I just keep them." He shrugs his shoulders and grins with embarrassment. That's not to say that Mr. Miller doesn't accept all offers of appreciation. Stihl provides saws for creating the sculptures and the Imperial Palace, Island View, Beau Rivage and Hard Rock casinos provide free lodging during his visits to the Gulf Coast to work. He allows photos of the sculptures in an exhibit at Gulfport-Biloxi International Airport to signify the important of Katrina and the aftermath. The Keesler eagle's photographs will be added to the display. Mr. Miller's history with Keesler goes back a long way. A native of Manson, Iowa, and graduate of the University of Hawaii, Mr. Miller was Airman Miller back in 1982, training in electronics at Keesler before spending eight more years in the service. Imagine his surprise to be back, but this time with Ms. Strawn as a guide. They took a tour of the new exchange-commissary complex, and it was then that Mr. Miller saw that it was the perfect spot for that eagle eager to exit the oak. "It was just the perfect spot -- perfect," he says. Used to working from his 1,200-square-foot shop back home in Fort Walton Beach, Fla., Katrina took Mr. Miller out on the road to work with the fallen trees. He doesn't worry about measurements and specific lineage. "I don't worry about scale," he said. "I just listen to what the wood says to me." His free-cut, patternless sculptures exaggerate the parts that stand out in people's minds, he said. The red on the Keesler eagle is what was left from the area between the tree's bark and raw enterior. "No one dictates what he'll do," Mrs. Miller says. "You'll just get what the log dictates to him to do." The eagle, which will be dedicated along with the new complex April 6, is now varnished and will be watched through the years to maintain its protective layer. Its plaque proclaims the carving as a dedication to the men and women of Keesler and the environment of learning. As for Mr. Miller, whose mother and great grandmother were painters, he can't seem to settle down and rest. His next project? A massive Great Dane in New Orleans howling to get out of the wood. Mr. Miller uses his hands while visualizing the tree he'll listen to shortly. "I can see the head of the Great Dane, and it's turned just so," he said, twisting his hands and using his body as a visual tool. "But the angle -- I can't figure out the angle of his stance. Yet." Mr. Miller flashes a grin at his wife. She shakes her head as she slips on her sunglasses. Sounds like another road trip to her.