The Artists






Three Circle Shop

Three Circle Shop is a sculpture studio in Northeast Minneapolis playing primarily with words, wool, wood, concrete, and steel. They transform handmade fabric, found objects, local woods, and 3am thoughts into true one-of-one works.

Tyler Hoffart

Tyler grew up on a farm in South Dakota. His childhood obsession with legos and baseball evolved into a love for rock climbing–all of them studies of shape and movement. After losing his job at the beginning of Covid, he began to apply this kinetic sensibility to a material he’d been surrounded by his whole life: wood. 


Standing in a room with Tyler, you’re struck by his physical presence. He has long, strawberry blonde hair. Hands strong enough to wring a heifer’s neck. And bright blue eyes, crazy eyes, eyes that seem to see just a little bit more than everyone else, almost like he was a mystic but actually not because he doesn’t need all that woo-woo shit. Who needs astrology when you blast through life like a burning comet, when you yourself are the blazing star? 


A desire to make something weird, pretty, and heavy as shit drove Tyler to try his hand at butcher blocks. He loves the long, slow process behind most of his work. It’s a little like gardening: In order to help bring your plants to the point of harvest, you simply show up, see what’s needed, then put in the work. Eventually you have a bounty. He’s just here to help, and share that bounty with the folks he loves (hey guess what: that includes you). Each of Tyler’s creations is a statement piece, a functional work of art you’ll have forever. They’re built to outlive you, so you better get busy making babies. 

Marah Harings

Marah’s favorite part of working with fibre is the variety. When she feels restless, she can quickly craft a simple garment with her sewing machine. When she wants to slow down and relish each step, she can blend wool fibres, spin them into yarn, weave them together on the loom, and watch a full beautiful cloth grow into existence. Whether she’s using traditional or modern techniques, tearing apart the minutiae of wool or feeding fabric into a sewing machine, Marah sets out to create pieces that are strong, meant to be used, and will last for years. 


Marah is like a whole lot of sunshine crammed into a jar. She’s tiny, but when she smiles you can see all her teeth, and her curly black hair grows up and away from her body like a plant unfurling toward the sky. Her hands are small and capable. She’s a tough cookie: loyal, gritty, strong in the way our ancestors were and we don’t have to be. She doesn’t take shit or talk shit. But there’s a whole lot of softness there, too. Marah loves to nest. Things fall into place in her hands, becoming cozy, intentional. In her presence, you can rest. 


Marah’s handmade clothing makes you feel warm, makes you feel happy, makes you feel loved. Her rugs and fibre art cozy up your space. Her scarves and jackets wrap you up like a hug. Each piece is practical and beautiful, containing both movement and joy.

Nick Smith

Nick would rather not have a bio. He’d be content to sit there on the couch, a leg pulled up to his chest. With his lip piercing and his beanie he looks every bit the skateboarder he was, and still is. He’s the quiet one, and that comes through in the way he makes art. He’ll stand there and stare at something, smoking a cigarette, and go, “hm.” Then he’ll sit with it. There’s lots of thinking, lots of visualizing. A sort of pulling taffy, taking an idea and going over it again and again.

Nick has struggled with addiction and mental health throughout his life, and has been through many treatments. Sculpture is an outlet for him. It’s a place where his problems don’t go away, but become different. Transform.

He sees things that most of us don’t see. You could describe his process less as sculpting art and more as finding it. Through his investigation of materials, he uncovers fantastic beauty. He inspects, asks questions, wonders where things could be, could go, could live. He tends to find it, the beauty, that was right there the whole time.

His sculptures feel alive in a way that’s a little disturbing. He takes wood, metal, rough materials and turns them into something silky and kinetic and otherworldly. His Garden Bench looks like it came from Mars. There’s something different about what Nick makes. He’s burned the rule book. It’s living art and fundamentally strange.