It starts the way you read a poem—slow, looking for the line that feels just wrong. I set up a high‑poly mesh, no symmetry, and just let my hand wander, letting the brush pick up the tiniest ridge. I zoom in until the screen is a small window and let the pixel grain guide me. If a crease looks too clean, I pull it back into a subtle, almost invisible bend. It’s like trading a perfect line for a whisper of a crack. And if the topology starts to feel forced, I stop and start over. That's how I get the bark’s hidden poetry on a sculpt.

Thanks, that’s exactly the vibe I’m chasing. I’ll keep hunting those tiny lines, but if the topology starts acting like a liar I’ll toss it out—no shortcuts, no symmetry cheats. The tree’s pulse is a good guide, but my eye is always on that next crease that feels just right.