I made a set of blocks for a charitable auction my sister organized. Many more sets are waiting to be assembled.
The squirrel eaten walnut is my most plentiful resource.
Pages
-
Categories
-
Archives
Dennis Lin was preparing a show for the Spoke Club and he asked me to make three museum quality cabinets as part of his ambitious vision. The glass cases were to house three beautiful artifacts he had collected and manipulated to accentuate the preciousness and delicacy of the natural world.
He sketched out his idea for the shape on my workbench top.
Presenting objects behind glass that most people would discard or ignore but are extremely complex and beautiful resounded with my sensibility and spoke volumes about our relationship with our environment. I was more than happy to play a minor role in realizing this statement.
One of three.
Mapping out the shapes was an absolute joy.
The arc of the skirt flows into curves of the legs. The hand carved legs capture the strength and fragility of an animal physiology.
Three sets of legs upside down on the bench.
The curve of the thigh.
The strength of the hip with a mortise and tenon joint.
I minimized the dimension of the glass frame so as not to distract from the object being displayed. Assembling the glass and frame was the most challenging part of the process.
Compound mitre corner.
Dennis’ show was a great success showcasing his ability to create dramatic shapes and textures with both delicate wisps wood and slabs of curved steel. Some time after the event, I was in Klaus by Nienkamper furniture store and one of the cabinets with it’s object of fascination, a fan of ant eaten wood, was quietly standing in corner. Each time I visited the store the cabinet occupied a new spot. Here it stands on the mezzanine.
Heather asked me to build some furniture for the addition on the schoolhouse. The completion of the renovation and delivery of the table and benches would mark the first anniversary of John’s death.
I first met John in 2004 after I took over the workshop on Milky Way. He hoped to continue getting specially shaped bits of wood to function as this or that and plywood boxes to fill the spots that needed filling. Mahogany, cherry, birch, spar varnish, oil, wax, business, home, boat, schoolhouse. We worked together a few times a year.
In February of 2009 we met for lunch at Shoeless Joe’s. Beer, a sandwich, some fries. Meeting to discuss details of a job included a few tall tales and good laughs. I’ll call you with the final decision he said. Two weeks passed and no word. One last email from me. The return message from John’s business partner… John had been killed while snowboarding. Woah! My head was spinning.
Later that year his wife Heather contacted me and asked if I would build a dining table and benches for the schoolhouse. We went back a forth with pictures and samples. With the general idea established she said go ahead and do what you think is best.
The crossed skirt.
Curved support skirt with turned top leg post.
Bit of sap wood and bark.
Table with benches.
I tell this story because I feel privileged that Heather asked me to make, as she called it, an heirloom for her family. As I worked, my focus on the task was permeated with thoughts of John and a good life lived.
Last year the birds ate all the ripe sour cherries before I was able to taste even one.
Blossoms that will never be fruit. Spring 2010.
Saturday was a full moon. We went for a high-moon cross-country ski and the dogs came along for the run. The light bounced off the snow with a silver glow. The last full moon shone for the once-in-a-blue-moon new years eve. That night, a bunch of us had an amazing meal and skated on the pond around a fire set alight on the floating raft frozen in the ice. During dinner we raised our glasses and challenged our imaginations to transform the next decade.
We have thirteen chickens on the farm. One rooster, seven red hens, one white Sussex hen, a small banty and her three chicks. The small banty I call Mama rules the roost. The care she provided for her three babies enthralled me. Despite being half the size of the other hens, she pecked a secure boundary around her babies, they ate first at the feeder, they had uninhibitited passage to all corners of the farm-yard, all three slept under her wings, and the rooster knew to keep his distance. She was the only hen not laying eggs, her sole purpose was to nurture the wee ones.
On new years day however, the tide shifted. The chicks, still a few months away from full maturity, no longer had the full protection of their mama. The red hens chased them away from the prime feeding spots and Mama did nothing. That night, the little ones roosted on their own away from Mama’s protective wings.
On the second of January, my routine egg collection revealed an amazing surprize; Mama had laid an egg. This was her first egg since she had come to the farm in the fall with her three chicks. It was tiny and pointed compared to the clunky round brown eggs the other hens drop and it was the most incredible blue. The blue moon had indeed delivered a transformative stroke as the three chicks were resolutely asked to leave the nest to make room for the next generation.
Just over a year ago, I finished a job in Atlanta with Dennis Lin Studio. We made two trips to the brand new W Hotel in downtown core just around the corner from the olympic park. The first visit into the heart of The South in early November found us smack-dab in the middle of the -Yes We Can- election. The city was electrified by the energy of people hoping for change. It seemed every other street corner had believers thrusting placquards in the air and shouting -Vote Now- and other such democratic reminders. On election night, the four of us Canadians watched the vote count drinking beer and smoking Camels on the balcony with the motel tv facing the open door. The air was warm and when Mr. Obama was called president car horns erupted and honked until morning.
Dennis was contracted through Burdifilek in Toronto to give some soul to the main public spaces of the hotel/condo complex. His vision was to hang thousands of shimmering bird like mobiles from the 50 foot ceiling and partially cage them in with huge bands of twisting ribbons of thin wood. This wonder would fill the glass walled lounge located on the corner of the main floor.
In addition to this was the wall. I was contracted to build 170 feet of curved solid walnut wall eleven feet tall. The wall wound its way from the main entrance to the concierge desks. I built the wall and Dennis and his crew carved it to mimmic draped fabric. Around 5000 board feet of solid black walnut, most of it locally grown and milled, defined the volume of the task.
Here is a fraction of what we played with.
The contractors on site in Atlanta shipped us templates of the wall curves. The templates, as we discovered upon arriving on site, were not as accurate as they could have been, but we scrambled to make the pieces fit as we massaged the installation.
The process to make the curves was a game of angles. A total of 86 panels each 2 ft wide and 11 feet tall were glued up to match the curves of the templated walls. The process was like wooden barrel making, coopering. The long sticks of walnut were ripped with a very slight angle. The sum of the angles makes the curve, not unlike the principles of calculus describing the curve of a line with a series of small short lines brought to the infinitesimal.
The panels looked like this.
.. and the carved panels.
.. and hanging on the wall.
The first snow fall. Two straight days and nights.
I met Phil the contractor on a job I was doing for Michelle and Mark. I loved the work, the level of detail and the easy operations of Phil and his number one guy Julian. In kind, Phil appreciated the work I was doing in the house, a kitchen, a couple of vanities, and some odd furniture bits. I’d hoped that Phil would include me in one of his future projects if he felt the client was a good match for the Treehouse Furniture Company approach. It wasn’t long before he introduced me to Harold.
Harold was putting together a house for he and his children just off Mount Pleasant north of St Clair. He had some ideas for his kitchen but was open to suggestions about the composition and texture. Indeed, he was a good match, open minded and willing to do something interesting. Upon his first visit to the workshop in the Milky Way alley, he was convinced that I was the man for the job. We worked on design ideas together and came up with a fusion of modern and traditional styling that suited the house and his desire for something unique.
Simple and clean with a warmth and strength that can support culinary adventure.
The focal point of the kitchen design was a pile of cherry lumber I had collected from George the farmer. I bought the whole tree from him and stored it for a while waiting for the right opportunity to feature the great curve of the natural edge.
I really didn’t want to cut up the lumber into square, straight pieces and lose the beauty of the bark, sap wood and heart wood combination. Harold wanted a big, thick island top so I worked with the pieces I had and laminated them three layers thick and half a dozen boards wide to make a top that was about 40 inches wide by 9 feet long. Although it’s not a single slab, I worked with the colour and grain to create the illusion that the top was a section from a huge tree.
Harold was willing try out the natural edge with quite a dramatic asymmetrical flare at one end and natural bark complete with worm hole patterns and knots.
The top was finished with oil and wax.
The sink in the island top had to have the right feel, not too modern, big enough not to be dwarfed by the top but subtle so as not to take away from the dramatic effect of the cherry slab. I found a good match in the basement of Addison’s on Wabash Street. A heavy cast iron enameled double sink with a layer of dirt.
A little polishing and some new drain hardware brought it up to speed. To achieve the required subtlety I rigged up an under-mounting support structure thereby not interrupting the single expanse of the countertop. However, with the under-mount, I feared losing the great shape and detail of the sink so I followed the edge of the sink line with my opening.
The island base is traditional frame and panel with inset doors and drawer faces. I worked in some subtle detailing on the corners and with the slight arch in the top rail of the doors.
We stained them a rich dark chocolate so they would not detract from or clash with cherry top and the stainless steel fixtures. Plus the colour worked well with the bamboo floors. The stain was a water based aniline dye with a top coat of oil and wax.
Close attention was paid to the mechanics and aesthetics of the functional parts of the island.
The drawers are solid wood dovetail construction.
Recycling, organics and garbage.
A full pantry is camouflaged in the wall.
My favorite detail is the cutting board that fits into a slot in the underside of the countertop.
The end grain cherry blocks assembled in a herringbone pattern fixed to the walnut bread-board with the etched bowls is over the top.
Harold took care of the lighting and had the stainless steel tables and upper shelves manufactured to dimensions that fit with the island and the appliances. When I last spoke with Harold he was cooking up a storm for his kids and entertaining guests with reckless enthusiasm.
It’s huntin’ season.
This is bow hunting month but the rifles are blazing with an echo through the trees. I guess hunters are lining up their sights and stretching out their killer trigger finger.
I can’t stop Chester’s wanderlust. In fact, I understand it completely. He is in the prime of life. Strong and energetic. I take him for a run in the back field as often as I can but it isn’t enough. I tie him to the barn once in a while but it just doesn’t feel right. When I keep him with me in the workshop he patiently waits by the fastened door with his nose pressed through a crack.
In the hopes that he will choose to stay close to the farm without strict monitoring, I sometimes cut him some slack and give him his freedom. I always regret it. He quickly disappears on a walk-about. Despite the fact that he’s only gone for an hour or so, I curse his name and pace the hill-top looking for tracks or signs of his escape path. I never get any work done.
Panting and filthy and smiling he always comes back.
I am not worried about his conduct it’s the humans I don’t trust. The dangers of letting him run the neighbourhood are numerous; listing them would only create negative projections so I’ll leave it at that. In the hopes of alleviating my anxiety I came up with a harebrained idea to make him hunter proof. Hunters are trained not to shoot at anything brandishing the bright hunter orange… so Chester in orange would be safer.
Chester’s I’m-not-a-deer shirt.
After a few days I abandoned the idea. Not because of the lunacy of doing his laundry but I figured only a drunk or a crazy person would mistake him for a deer and a t-shirt wouldn’t really make any difference. On the down side, maybe the shirt would make him a better target for the crazy person with a rifle and a scope.
So it’s back to keeping him cooped up in the barn or tied to a post with no free time. If only I could reason with him and explain the strangeness of humans. Maybe time will quell his wanderlust spirit and his urge to sleep will out weigh his urge for adventure.
The kids picked flowers to dress the table for this year’s Thanksgiving feast.
These are the last of the season I suspect. It snowed about a dozen flakes on Sunday, a cold reminder of what’s to come. The flowers that are remaining glow with colour set against the withering brown and grey of the frost bitten grasses.
I didn’t cut the grass this year and the fruits of my labour-less efforts were numerous. I figure now is a good time to display some of the colours that popped up and surprized me this past spring and summer.
