Why this Minneapolis neighbourhood sharpens a giant pencil every year

Every year in June, a quiet Minneapolis neighbourhood near Lake of the Isles turns into the site of one of America’s most eccentric public rituals: the sharpening of a 6-metre-tall No. 2 pencil. And no, it’s not metaphorical.

What’s the story behind Minneapolis’ annual giant pencil-sharpening ritual?

On Saturday, more than 1,000 people gathered to witness this now-iconic event hosted by John and Amy Higgins, who sculpted the colossal pencil out of a storm-damaged oak tree in their front yard. What started as a creative way to memorialise a beloved tree has evolved into a whimsical, community-powered celebration—complete with costumes, live music, and even alphorn players.

The pencil, carved by wood sculptor Curtis Ingvoldstad, is a faithful replica of a classic Trusty brand yellow No. 2 pencil. Every year, the Higginses and their crew of volunteers haul up a giant custom-made sharpener using scaffolding, shaving off inches from the top to keep its tip ‘pointy and purposeful’. It’s an act of literal and symbolic renewal.

“Why a pencil? Because everyone knows what it is,” said Amy Higgins. “It’s simple, universal, and leaves room for interpretation.” That spirit of accessibility is what draws people in—from neighbours to out-of-towners like Rachel Hyman, who flew in from Chicago dressed as a pencil after a friend insisted she couldn’t miss it. “Some man is sharpening a pencil on his lawn and this is what happens? Of course, I had to be part of it,” she said. The event also marks the birthday of Minneapolis’s most famous son, Prince. This year, purple pencils were handed out to attendees in his honour, adding a touch of local nostalgia to the proceedings.

Sculptor Ingvoldstad believes in letting the public shape the meaning of the art. “It’s a good place,” he said. “Even if your reaction is negative—it’s yours. That’s what matters.” Like the pencil itself, the ritual embraces impermanence. Each year’s sharpening takes a few inches off. Eventually, the pencil may be reduced to a stub—but that’s the point. “Like any ritual, there’s sacrifice,” Ingvoldstad added. “We’re giving up a piece of the monument to keep the spirit alive.”