Fin: A Swan’s Descent and an Artist’s Arrival

I wasn’t prepared for the emotion that hit me when I first stood in front of Dawn Bassett’s Fin.

Four feet of bronze—a black swan caught mid-fall, wings spread in that suspended moment before surrender. It stopped me cold. Not just because of its technical beauty, though it is undeniably beautiful. But because it feels like something. Grief. Grace. The weight of an ending that’s somehow also transcendent.

This is Dawn’s first bronze sculpture. Let me say that again: her first. And she’s created a monument.

I’ve worked with Dawn Bassett for four years, and I’ve watched her practice evolve across plaster and encaustic, paint and string. But this? This is a departure that feels like an arrival. The kind of work that announces an artist has something urgent to say and has found the perfect material to say it in.

Fin—French for “end”—depicts a rare black swan, a Cygnet Noir, in descent. Dawn writes about the moment she couldn’t shake: that instant just before the swan meets still water. “A falling swan—surrendering, leaving the body—is a gesture so heavy with beauty, sadness, and inevitability that I felt compelled to give it form.”

And she has. Bronze is unforgiving. It requires commitment, precision, an understanding of weight and balance and permanence. That Dawn chose this medium for her first sculptural work in bronze—and executed it at this scale, with this emotional clarity—is remarkable.

The symbolism runs deep. Swans have always carried mythological weight: transformation, fidelity, the soul’s journey between worlds. Black swans, once thought not to exist, represent the unexpected anomaly that changes everything. In Dawn’s hands, this black swan becomes both witness and warning—a meditation on rarity, loss, and what we’re responsible for protecting.

She’s put her conviction behind those words, too. Fifty percent of the proceeds from Fin will go toward mangrove forest reclamation efforts. Mangroves are among the planet’s most powerful carbon sinks, and Dawn wanted to acknowledge the environmental cost of working in bronze by investing directly in restoration. It’s the kind of thoughtful integrity that makes representing her work meaningful beyond the transaction.

But here’s what I keep coming back to: standing in front of Fin, you don’t need to know any of this context to feel it. The piece communicates romance through bronze—that particular ache of witnessing something rare and fleeting. It’s a triumph of form and feeling.

This is a one-of-a-kind work. Dawn will never make another bronze sculpture like it. At four feet high and three feet across, it commands presence without overwhelming a space. I can see it in a collector’s home—anchoring a room with natural light, creating a moment of contemplation. I can equally see it in a corporate collection, offering employees and visitors alike that rare gift: a reason to pause.

Fin is available now at Seattle Art Source. If you’d like to experience it in person or discuss acquisition, I’d welcome the conversation. Some works deserve to be seen, not just described.

This is one of them.

Four feet of bronze—a black swan caught mid-fall, wings spread in that suspended moment before surrender.

Black swans, once thought not to exist, represent the unexpected anomaly that changes everything.

The piece communicates romance through bronze—that particular ache of witnessing something rare and fleeting. It’s a triumph of form and feeling.

Bronze is unforgiving. It requires commitment, precision, an understanding of weight and balance and permanence.

Some works deserve to be seen, not just described.