I take a piece of Latvian clay and mould it with my hands until a little miracle is born.

A little whistle. A Latgalian with brown feathers, white tattoos and a sticker. Makes four sounds. Single.

The old Latvian tales tell the story of times when the God's sons married the Sun's daughters and people could understand animals and birds, when lakes were drifting in the air and the youngest son travelled the world to find happiness. "Go see and bring back the unknown," said the King and gave him a magic whistle...

My home and workshop is on top of a hill. Often we experience winds blowing from all four directions. So, naturally my svilpaunieks has a sleek shape with a slender neck so it can withstand the wind, fly and reach faraway lands.