Shrine

I don't have any religious affiliations but recently I discovered I do have something of a shrine in my bedroom--I hadn't thought of it as a shrine until I noticed it the other night--they were really just a couple of things that held some importance in my life that I had grouped together with no conscious thought--but seemingly there had to have been some intent whether I was aware of it or not--an old turn of the century plane that at some point I had decided to store a bundle of sage in (given to me by a good friend)--I use this occasionally as an incense holder--on top of the plane there is a silver cup engraved with my name from when I was a baby--these all are representational of things I value and put faith in--my work, my friends, and my family (community)--they are also the things I need the most guidance and help with--while traveling I've visited a multitude of shrines and have been awed by the meticulous care put into their construction and the beauty that faith is the capable of creating--this isn't one of those...it is, however, important to me--

Coliseum Bath

My associate Nick and I spent the day building a floating bathtub and in constructing the framing found it to have distinct coliseum qualities--this particular tub surround is going to be tiled but we thought it would be much cooler if the framing was exposed and solid mahogany--with some underlighting and a clear acrylic bathtub--then we'd really have something!

If anyone out there has a bit of money and wants an amazing bathroom experience...

The Man with Grey Eyes

This painting by 16th century painter Titian, "The Man with Grey Eyes" (also called "The Englishman") hung in our house throughout my childhood--I cropped this image from the larger original to match the print that my parents bought in Italy when I was a baby--it was a constant in my life and moved with us innumerable times from country to country, state to state, province to province--it was something I could always count on--It also used to terrify me--his eyes, penetrating and  inescapable, would follow me as I walked past him--there was something about his continuous watching that made him so much more than a simple painting and there were times I was certain I saw him blink--

As I got older I came to accept him as a member of our family--he had been there as long as I could remember--he had his own personality and I came to see him as dependable--watching over us with benevolence rather than a sinister intent--later in my life my parents passed him on to me and he moved with me, again across towns and borders--sadly during my last move from east to west he was lost and I was surprised by the feeling of grief I felt--this man had seen my entire life and there was a connection I felt to him--I've lost many things in many moves but for some reason this affected me more than the others--The Man with Grey Eyes was a much a part of our family as I was and to have him gone was like losing a piece of our family--I can only hope he's found a new home and family to watch over--

The Flu and Some Tulips

I’ve had the flu this week and took some time off work—this never feels quite right to me—staying home just feels so incredibly unproductive—sometimes, however, it is necessary—I spent some time drinking tea, slurping soup, downloading bad TV on iTunes, and watching the tulips on my coffee table move towards the light—I don’t have much free time in my life and it’s as if my body shuts me down when I need some rest—I used to fight this but I’m getting better at realizing when I should just take a day or two and do what my body is telling me to do—I found watching the tulips quite beneficial—their serpentine stalks moving with purpose—a natural need for connection with the light—granted it’s been cold, overcast, and raining so they’ve seemed a little flustered and confused but they’re definitely doing their best—that search for connection is the essence of beauty—it’s that driving force to find light in form—and it’s what occasionally tells me I need to get healthy and take a break before I lose sight of that—

The Interesting and the Banal

I was talking with a friend the other day about the interesting and the banal—we agreed that sometimes the banal isn’t always a bad thing—I’ve spent the past couple of weeks trimming out a house—hanging doors, casing windows, building a little window seat and plain bathroom cabinet  (really just a box)—none of it interesting or challenging—yes, perhaps even banal—I get there at 8:00 am and leave most days at 4:00 pm—take a half hour for lunch—cut innumerable 45 degree angles on the chop saw—make small talk with the other trades and listen to a lot of bad radio programming—pretty easy—if this was all there was I’d probably be miserable but this has given me a break—let’s face it carpentry is rarely a glamorous job and most people aren’t too adventurous when building their homes—I feel fortunate to have a balance in my life between the interesting and the banal—fortunate to have a job that often leans heavily into the realm of interesting—

This job has given me time to sort through the piles of receipts stuffed into cupboards and organize them for my accountant (banal but important)—I was also able to hang some of the cabinets in the ongoing bathroom reno--the plumber is coming on Monday to hook up the sink and that, for me, is pretty exciting

I broke some glass too! That was eventful

Place

Over the past few years I’ve been finding a place for myself and perhaps within myself—that place moves and it is a matter of moving with it—I’m thinking of this today because I brought home an armoire that had been at the shop for years and was trying to find its place in my bedroom— it’s a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and I knew it would work in that space but it was difficult to find its place in the room—I moved it around sitting with it each time until it felt whole and it’s that feeling of wholeness that tells me it’s right—this can be said about design and about life— As things change in the future perhaps that armoire will no longer feel a part of the room  and I’ll move things around again—There is a fluidity to design—a movement and current and when I’m aligned with it I know it’s what it’s supposed to be--

Alley Mon Amore

I’ve had a long relationship with alleys—honestly I’ve felt somewhat lost the times I haven’t had an alley I could call my own in my life—I associate certain alleys with certain times and events in my life—they’ve acted as meeting places, waiting rooms, business establishments, bedrooms, playrooms, romantic getaways, and venues of petty misdemeanors—

In the morning I take the alley down to the shop—making way for delivery vans and garbage trucks—this is where the city works—there’s nothing shiny about a proper alley—it’s the concealed reality that houses the truth of a city and there is beauty in that—they have a distinct aesthetic value—

My present alley has an amazing balance of filth and beauty—granted usually it smells pretty awful but sometimes the smell of coconut buns from the asian bakery is able to overpower the stench of urine and garbage—the hidden murals and rudimentary tags meld into a gallery of color on brick and cement—I’ll stay away from making obvious analogies to the human condition and just post some photos I took walking home from work--

The Fit

 There is always the fear, no matter how many times I measure and remeasure, that something I have built in the shop won't fit in its specified location--the age old adage, "measure twice cut once", has too often turned into "measure a whole bunch of times and then hack apart and rebuild on site"--luckily in this case everything seems to work out!

Now I can take it back to the shop for its final polishing and then varnishing

Compounding Excess

There are time I still ascribe to the tenet, "it's not worthwhile unless you take it too far".

This project is a good example of just that--What started out as a cabinet for a bathroom sink has evolved into something much more complicated--I had the idea of of making the counter top out of walnut--then after some deliberation with my friend (and general contractor on this job) Karl the simple cabinet became a walnut pedestal with compounding angles and glass shelving that will protrude as fins---

This is what I have so far upside down on the bench...

Revisionist History

This building, in its first stages of demolition, is on the corner of 2^nd and Quebec—less than half a block from my shop—I actually worked on a movie in 1989 that used this building called “The Experts” with a pre-Pulp Fiction John Travolta (had something to do with the KGB and crazy hi jinx)—it’s sad to see it go even though it’s been abandoned for years and its infrastructure was slowly crumbling—Vancouver has so few unique and identifying manmade landmarks—it’s in a state of perpetual renewal that eliminates any history it may still possess—being a relatively young city it hasn’t established an identity and struggles with the fact that it will never be as striking or imposing as the mountains that surround it—I’m not opposed to urban growth and I don’t think it needs to be seen as gentrification but at the same time I’d like to think I have some say in the course of its progression—I get sad when something I identify with in a neighborhood is destroyed and replaced by just more of the same shiny structures that house the overpriced condos that have become so synonymous with this city--

I know that when the lease is up on the shop space in a couple of years there is a good chance it will join the many other buildings in the neighborhood in being forgotten beneath another generic tower of steel and glass—what I’m getting at is how grateful I am right now to have access to this space—just what I need and only 7 blocks from my house—these situations are so rare and I’m incredibly lucky (and I'm just really trying to love this city I live in)