Minimalist Shop

Last year when I came to visit my friends in Massachusetts I built them the "Baby Killer" (See Blog posting from a couple of days ago). This year they needed something a little more functional for their kitchen. A cabinet. I've built a multitude of cabinets in my Vancouver shop using the industrial table saw, dado blades, pneumatic tools, perfectly calibrated chop saw, etc. Here my tool selection is more basic consisting primarily of a skill saw, a drill, and a hammer. I'm trying to use materials I've managed to uncover in their garage but I did have to get some plywood for the box.

This is an exercise for me. It's a chance to see what I'm still capable of outside of the protective confines of my usual well equipped shop location. I'm enjoying the slow assembly process.

Waldorf Travel Diaries--Pilgrimage

I try to visit New England every fall. Our seasonal changes in the Northwest are subtle and often easily missed but here summer’s annual demise is marked with brilliant color and a distinct sense of transition. It’s a reminder of the cyclical nature of the world we live in—a regular reminder of our own mortality. It’s an unavoidable marker I appreciate. My yearly pilgrimage east is important and provides me with the perspective I can lose in Vancouver. This is the time I evaluate what is important in my life and what to put effort into over the winter months. Take inventory and focus.

Some years, like this one, the process is fairly simple. As clearly visible as the vivid leaves against the grey October sky.

The Massachusetts "Baby Killer"

Last year while visiting my friends in Western Massachusetts I built them a railing/shelving detail at the top of their front entry stairs. I completely ignored building codes. There was no regard for space regulations that would prevent a small child from crawling through and falling into the stairwell below.

The result was a simple and balanced design both my friends and I were very happy with the only drawback being small children under the age of three are simply no longer allowed in their house. Children are ID'd at the door.

Waldorf Travel Diaries--Wall of Eames

The wall of Eames. So pure in function and so very sexy in form...

Waldorf Travel Diaries--Let them eat furniture

The other day as I was lost in the maze of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts I came upon this piece. It's a dresser from Marie Antoinette's boudoir in her private residence, Le Petit Trianon. I stood in front of it for a long time trying to imagine a room where this was just another piece of furniture. A room where this dresser was just another dresser--really only a place to store personal belongings. The time and acute attention to detail that must have been spent creating such a beautiful work of art is staggering.

Cake or no cake, the Queen had good taste in furniture.

Waldorf Travel Diaries--Parklife

After a few days of working in Toronto with my nephew on railroad design and conducting stress tests on the Thomas the Train family (and subsequently on our immediate family) I found myself sitting in the Boston Public Garden on a sunny October afternoon. I love the Boston Garden and how it’s placed in the middle of the city coupled with the more pastoral Boston Common. The old city borders the perimeter of these two quiet pieces of calm green space and pedestrians use their paths as quiet commuter routes through the downtown core of the city.

Vancouver has Stanley Park and honestly I rarely go there. It’s a destination for me. I need to make a decision and have the time in order to travel across town. Then usually once there I’m a little overwhelmed by its size.

What beach do I go to? Where is that hollow tree people talk about? Am I in the pedestrian path or the bike lane? Where did all these fitness enthusiasts come from? Should I get some LuLu Lemon yoga pants? If I was to try roller blading where is the nearest hospital?

I can’t just walk quietly through it on my daily travels with the other city dwellers sharing a common moment of tranquility. Stanley Park is representative of Vancouver. It’s a chunk of beautiful wilderness that defines the city’s west coast active pioneering attitude. It’s something that needs to be conquered rather than incorporated. It seems to represent a lifestyle. I have never even walked around the seawall much less had the desire to run around it.

Years ago when I was living in Boston I was walking over the bridge in the Boston Garden and saw what appeared to be a large fish swimming in the water. It looked like a fat Japanese Koi. As I stood there, leaning over the side trying to get a better look, I suddenly saw the tail and realized it wasn’t a fish at all. It was a giant wharf rat.

That’s a city park.

Meditation in the Racks

Sometimes my shop is simply a place I go to think. It’s a large space where I can sit, pace, make phone calls, write notes, and generally work through problems or ideas. When I need more area than my hotel room but still want to be alone that’s where I go. It helps me organize my thoughts and prioritize. Today I spent a couple of hours taking inventory of what was available in the material racks for upcoming projects and going through the initial design processes in my head.

Function. Form. Structure. Material. Joinery.

As I looked through the lumber racks I began thinking of the projects in my life. Occasionally I’d stop to take notes or call someone to verbalize ideas and get feedback. These periods of shop meditation are often interactive. I depend on others for objective clarity to help me visualize what is possible.

The end result is perspicuity and renewed direction. When I turn off the lights and lock the door behind me I have a better grasp of the bigger picture. I leave with a sense of purpose and peace.

Waldorf Diaries--Belonging (if only for a moment)

“This feels like Vancouver.” I said to the woman at the front desk as I walked into the hotel lobby with my morning cup of coffee.

“It’s a relief.” She said

I’ve woken up to the sound of cars driving in the rain for the past few days. The rubber on wet asphalt sounds like waves breaking on the street. They come in sets with rhythmic patterns that splash the concrete beach outside my window. Our late six week summer came to an end quickly and without transition. One morning last week I got up and realized immediately it was gone.

What’s interesting is I’m not sure I miss it. The cold grey drizzle feels comfortable and I understand her relief. This is the city I know—not the hot sunny city without a cloud in the sky—I don’t recognize that city. I’ve brought my sweaters and hoodies out of their brief hiatus and I feel warm and safe in all my layers. For this moment I feel like I belong here.

Finished Product

I returned to the house I recently finished to take photographs yesterday and the painters had made everything beautiful. I'm lucky to work with talented people! The house looks amazing.

Waldorf Diaries--Expansion and Contraction

360 Degree Quiet

As much as I appreciate small spaces I’m aware of a point when my hotel room begins to constrict around me. Life breathes. It expands and contracts. This evening in the midst of the contraction it was necessary for me to get out. I made my way to a Main street diner and ordered the pulled pork and macaroni and cheese. I ate my cardiac arresting dinner and chatted with the waitress about her ideas on the subjects of “home” and community. After dinner I continued this conversation with a friend sitting outside Gene Coffee drinking cappuccinos. I need these interactions though I often have to force myself out into the world to make them. My vision narrows. It dims and I need help digging myself out of a creative tunnel. It's only through those connection that I am able see light

After an exceptionally social evening I ventured down to the Convention Center plaza. It was after 10:00 pm and the broad space was virtually empty. The mountains were dark silhouettes across the harbor and the still water mirrored the lights of the north shore. I felt the expansion of breath in the quiet city center.