The Woodman of Oz began as flesh and blood, transformed piece by piece through a witch’s enchantment and cursed axe that replaced every part of him. Neither machine nor robot, he exists between magic and mechanism, a man whose heart was removed by cruel circumstance.

His tin form, crafted by his own hands, stands as testament to survival, each joint a reminder of lost humanity. Yet the Tin Man remains startlingly human in his longings, weeping without tears and loving without a heart. In him, we see something profound: a being who questions his humanity precisely because he feels its absence so deeply.