An overdue update

There have been some changes over this past year... If you follow along closely, you may have already noticed, but I think I owe an update regardless.

I have curtailed my retail efforts. For years, I supplied several local stores, primarily Shop Made in DC, with a line of retail goods. This became a big part of my business—essentially a second business, in fact. Last year, I hired two part-time people to help me with these efforts and they did great work. However, the math stopped working from a business perspective. It also stopped working from a time and energy perspective.

Humans have limits. I am maybe more limited than I wish I was. While I had people doing a lot of the day-to-day work of making retail items, there was still a lot of administrative overhead that went along with running that part of the business. In addition to doing part of the work of actually making items, I needed to oversee the work of others; deliver items to retailers; track inventory; check sales reports against inventory; project for future quarters; holidays, etc. It’s more than just the hours of sanding.

I still plan to make these retail items, just in limited quantities. I’ll be selling them in-person at shows and online. I created a line of goods that I really like and that has some local popularity. Additionally, I am beginning to make new small items from my scraps. This is how I got on the road to small home goods and it feels good to be back there. Retail environments work best for consistent and expected products that can be restocked, promoted, etc. In addition to the line of items I grew over the past few years, I am now making small boxes and kumiko panels that you can find at various markets this holiday season.

The DC flag board is one of my most popular designs and will continue to be available through my web site and in-person craft shows

Rest assured, I’m still making your favorite cutting boards and coasters (DC flags, fancy end grains, etc.). They’re just in smaller quantities now.

In addition to getting out of retail, I am also not going to be at the big DC Downtown Holiday Market this year. I’ll provide a detailed list of where to find me in a few weeks once the schedule has solidified.

Having decreased efforts on the small goods, I am focused on furniture building and teaching woodworking classes. The woodworking lessons are going well and I’m considering increasing the number of slots I offer each week. I have taught on and off for years but decided at the end of 2022 to make it a larger part of the business. It has since become part of the business I really enjoy. My classes are one-on-one and focus on beginner skills and starter projects, but I’m happy to work with anyone looking to grow or hone their sills.

My furniture efforts are focused on unique residential pieces. While I had a lot of fun doing larger commercial runs for various restaurants and stores, the volume of work and the timelines associated with those jobs just don’t work well for me now. There will, of course, be exceptions. 

I look forward to seeing people at various markets and online. Thanks for all of your support!

Cherry table with custom inlay and double taper/curved legs completed in July 2023.

Resources for Beginner Woodworking Students

As I’ve begun to spend more time teaching woodworking in my little DC studio, I have been reminded of just how daunting it can be to start on the path of this craft. Not only do you have to overcome the very natural fear of moving your hands near sharp steel spinning at 1000s of RPMs, but there’s a lot to learn. When I first started, I soaked up information anywhere I could. As a resource for my students, and anyone else out there looking for good instruction, I offer my top choices here. I’ll note that not only are these fantastic resources for woodworking, but each of these organizations/people has worked very hard to make what has traditionally been the land of old white guys, very inclusive for all people. This is an ongoing effort for us all, there is always room to improve, but I applaud them for it. 

Your first stop: Fine Woodworking Magazine

For decades, Fine Woodworking magazine has been a go-to source for woodworkers at all levels of experience. The magazine has for decades featured in-depth instruction on a wide array of topics, from woodworking basics to advanced techniques and design inspiration. Their in-depth articles, expert tips, and stunning project showcases provide an endless source of inspiration and education. In recent years, Fine Woodworking has moved beyond the traditional print magazine and into videos and paid online classes. The “unlimited” subscription is one of the best deals out there. The Fine Woodworking “Unlimited” subscription includes access to videos with some of the best craftspeople in the world. It’s one of the best deals out there. Additionally, there is a biweekly podcast where members of the staff and professional craftspeople answer listener questions. 

Books: Lost Art Press

Lost Art Press (LAP) has been steadily growing over the past several years. I believe this is due in part to the organization’s efforts to grow the craft. LAP offers quality, made in the USA books that are dedicated to fair pricing for the readers, writers, and the publisher. Some of the titles are reprints of woodworking classics that went out of print; others are brand new books by some of the best people in the craft. The content is largely focused on hand-tools and traditional techniques, as well as design. But I would argue that one of the overriding principles of the company is make this information accessible to people. To help people learn the craft. I typically recommend people start out with learning about the medium: Wood. LAP has 2 great books here: Cut and Dried and With the Grain. The Essential Woodworker is a great place to learn about hand tools and hand tool skills. And The Anarchist Tool Chest will walk you through the essential hand tools you need.  

The Godfather of online video instruction: Woodwhisperer.com: 

When it comes to learning woodworking online, Woodwhisperer.com is a treasure trove of knowledge. Run by the talented and passionate Marc Spagnuolo, this website offers a wide range of educational content, including instructional videos, articles, project plans, and a supportive community of fellow woodworkers. Marc's clear and engaging teaching style makes complex techniques accessible to beginners, and his attention to detail is inspiring. No matter your skill level, Woodwhisperer.com is an invaluable resource for honing your woodworking skills. There are tons of free videos available on the web site or on YouTube as well as incredible videos and plans that are for sale. I learned a ton from Marc and it has been a real joy to watch this guy grow and evolve with his craft and his family over the years. When I first started my woodworking journey, YouTube was mostly cat videos and pratfalls. Marc paved the way for a lot of the content creators you see today. And while many Youtubers are newer to the craft, or focused as much on entertainment as instruction, Marc has always prioritized quality instruction and information (he’s also entertaining). His humility and expertise are refreshing to me in the online world. 

No Excuses: The Minimal Minimalist Woodworker, Vic Tesolin

One of the things I hear a lot is that people don’t have space for woodworking. True, you need some space, but you would be amazed at the places where professionals have worked and made a living. So as a new hobbyist, there really is no excuse. If you need some help figuring it out, check out Vic’s book. Vic is an incredibly talented craftsman and instructor (and an entertaining guy). This book will empower you to create remarkable pieces with limited resources, emphasizing the true essence of woodworking: skill and imagination.

Get Started

The main thing is to get started. If you just have time and space to read a book or watch a video, I recommend doing that. If you can set up something on your back porch, or a corner of your basement, whatever, just get a few tools and get started. 

Woodworking classes in DC

As those of you following long on social media know by now, I started offering woodworking classes in late December. I’m looking forward to getting people into my DC home studio later this month and I’m enjoying redesigning my space to better accommodate this. I’ve taught a few students in the past and I’ve really enjoyed it but it is never something I really promoted much. There are several reasons for this shift, both business and personal… So here’s 1400 words or so of me talking about some personal history in the craft and my intentions for teaching. If you want the TLDR, this is the wrong place. Skip over to the classes page for an abbreviated version.

When people ask how long I’ve been woodworking, I usually say, “pretty seriously since 2009, but I’ve been making things my whole life.” When I was about 7 or so, my dad brought home a small coping saw for me to play with. Since the saw has an easily replaceable blade and is not powered by gas or electricity, it was relatively safe by 1980s standards (this was a time when you could still buy “jarts” and smoke inside). I think he was also sick of me messing with his tools. I made a wooden toy truck for a neighbor boy who had been badly burned. Made hundreds of slingshots. Eventually, in high school, I made Rube Goldberg machines as part of an annual Science Olympiad. 

This was in central NY, which is probably best understood as the northern tip of Appalachia. Though probably not geographically accurate, I would argue that socio-demographically, it is. We’re not quite the Midwest, not quite New England, too far north to be Mid-Atlantic. While there are downsides, like long cold winters with 100-200 inches of snow, and people flying the flag of the seditious losers of the South, there is a culture of hard work and respect for skills and the trades. You’re far enough away from the city and even stores with supplies that you learn how to do and fix things for yourself. People grew gardens not so much as a hobby or for entertainment but because it was practical. Same for hunting. Don’t get me wrong, Wegman’s was only 30 minute drive away; this wasn’t like a segment of the Oregon Trail. But let’s just say these folks would fare just fine in such an austere environment. 

However, like many kids of my generation, I was encouraged to become a knowledge worker by going to college, honing my soft skills, and becoming flexible in a changing work environment. My dad, a mechanic, encouraged me to find a job where I didn’t have to get dirty (this comment was notably made after I came home from my night shift at the printing press, covered in paper dust and ink. It was a great job for a college kid). This was good advice and well-intentioned. I followed it and even found some success in that world. I remember distinctly driving across Washington, DC with a colleague on a warm day in June. Probably around 2007–just a few years into my government career. We were wearing suits and on our way to a briefing at the Pentagon. I looked out at the unmowed grass near the Washington Monument and thought that only a few years ago, I would have been back on my buddy’s family farm throwing the hay bales of “first cutting” and drinking Mountain Dew by the six-pack. I kinda felt like I had “made it.” Horatio Alger. American Dream. Riding the White Male Privilege train all the way to the top of the Government Bureaucracy Career Ladder. 

So what happened in 2009? How/why did I get serious about woodworking at that point? 

A number of things, really. A general anxiety and depression set in. I kinda felt out of sorts. Ungrounded. Despite having all the things in order (good job, good finances, good relationships, good marriage, etc.). I think a lot of people feel this at various points in life. As I stood back and reflected, I noticed that at previous times in my life I turned to making things in similar instances. When I graduated college I lived with my parents for a few months before moving to Baltimore. As the move approached, I realized I needed some bookcases and despite never having made a piece of decent furniture, I decided to build my own. When I went to graduate school, I built myself a desk for my 9X9’ bedroom in a group house. First place in DC? Built a bunch of furniture for the tiny “English Basement.” In all of these periods of tumult and change, I found myself making things. Kind of returning to my roots, in a way; roots of childhood and perhaps even more deeply, just basic human roots. 

Two other important things happened around this time. 

My job sent me to Israel. My assignment there was pretty demanding with long work days. But I lived in a nice hotel directly across from my office. I could cross the street and go swimming in the Med. And with the exception of a friend who happened to visit his family for about a week during my assignment, I knew no one there. My colleagues were temporary, had demanding jobs and families at home. I was in a different time zone than my friends and family back home. Facebook, back then, was still a social network and not social media. I could log on and see what the people I actually knew in real life were doing without being pulled into a vortex of short dog videos and tool porn. I could check in daily for 15-30 minutes max, not lose an evening in a dopamine fueled oblivion (#endrant).

So, I had solitude. I went on long runs along the Med. I ate almost every meal alone, many of them at restaurants overlooking the sea. I went to workout classes taught in Hebrew, which I had never studied. I walked the streets without a smartphone GPS. Solitude is a powerful thing and so is a drastic change in location.

The third factor, and perhaps the most influential, was reading Matt Crawford's Shopcraft as Soulcraft. This book helped provide me with an intellectual framework for the things I was thinking and feeling about making stuff and using my hands. It helped me better understand that for me, and probably others, making things is fundamental to being human. One of things that defines us as a species is making and fixing things, particularly with tools. That working in the physical world was a no-bullshit antidote to bizarre lives we live in an office environment. Having already recognized that my rudimentary efforts at furniture making grounded me during other periods of unease and transition, Crawford’s book hit me like a 2lb mallet (IYKYK). 

When I returned from my assignment, I immediately signed up for an adult education class in an actual woodshop. While I had training and experience as a kid and in high school, I needed a refresher…and access to tools. This was really before people just started watching YouTube and teaching themselves, though I certainly benefited a ton from Marc Spagnuolo’s videos. At the time, we were renting a row house. My wife worked a lot of weekends and nights. I would set up saw horses in the living room and practice cutting joinery with a handsaw. Shop spaces have evolved a lot since then and so have my skills. 

What does all of that have to do with teaching woodworking? Working with wood has brought me a lot of joy. It engages so many aspects of our humanness from artistic design, math of various sorts, building skills and using tools, engineering, and so on. Wood, as a medium, is intriguing and beautiful. Along with other varieties of making things, it is an elixir to the ills of our modern world. It is largely analog, cannot be rushed, and you get immediate and objective feedback: the table stands; the cabinet is square; the shelves are solid. Or not. And then you fix it or rebuild it. There will be no twitter debates about it. No extraordinary use of keywords on your annual review about how precise your joinery is to improve your chances of a bonus or promotion. There is a comfort in all of that and an aspect of life that many people unknowingly are missing and some perhaps never get to enjoy. 

I have taken classes with many woodworkers far more talented and skilled than me. I don’t claim to be at their level; I aspire to it. However, I have 13 years of serious woodworking experience; I want to help other people enter this craft and share the joy it can bring (along with the splinters, real and metaphorical) 

One day design and build challenge

For Memorial Day, my buddy Dennis of Austen Morris Furniture and I decided to treat ourselves to a day in the shop! While we spend every day in the shop, this was special: we were challenging ourselves to design and build a piece of furniture in one day. Here’s out it came about:

Dennis saw a YouTube video in which two designers were given old school lawn chairs and asked to redesign them. They had a day to do it. That was the inspiration. Rather than start with an off-the-shelf product and redesign, we asked our Instagram followers to vote on what we should design and build. Of the options: table, bench, shelf, home good, the voters chose benches.

We set some other parameters for ourselves: minimum of 4 board feet of lumber; had to be designed AND built the same day; lumber could be pre-milled. One main species with others allowed; hardware was permitted. Finish could be wet, but had to be applied.

We worked out of Dennis’s shop, which is close to mine. My shop is a coop and he is the sole craftsperson in his, so working there ensured we wouldn’t have to share equipment with anyone else. His family joined us for lunch, which was super sweet, and we basically worked uninterrupted for the whole day. In the end, I think we both designed and built great pieces, each very different and in our own voice. Admittedly, I called it around 4:30 in the afternoon. I had about 4-5 more hours of work left and only about 30 minutes of steam. Dennis could have crossed the finished line but magnanimously decided to press pause as well. We each finished in the subsequent days. I had some help from Candice, who works with me a few days each week.

This is the bench I built. It is solid sapele throughout. The difference in color is kind of amazing within a single species.

Detailed shot.

Here is Dennis’s bench. He used Ash (the lighter wood) and walnut. The short back detail is a really cool aspect of this piece which I think gives a traditional staked design a modern feel.

details.

A few major takeaways I wanted share here. First, craftspeople do not generally enjoy working fast. Making things is a slow and deliberate process and we take our time to make things as perfectly as possible. However, as business owners, we also need to be fast if we want to make a living. Like any athlete will tell you, the way to run faster is to run faster; you have to push yourself to new speeds, maybe faster than you’re comfortable with, if you want to move your baseline up. However, you can’t really take the risk of increasing your speed, or training, as it were, while you’re working on a commission for someone else. It also doesn’t make a lot of sense to spend normal business hours “training”…so a holiday was a good opportunity for this.

Also, it was just fun. When you’re doing this as a business and have to be persistently mindful of the clients’ needs, the agreed upon design, the budget, etc., it’s really nice to just make stuff. I’m not sure if Michael Phelps can just relax by the pool, but that’s the analogy here (not to say we’re the Michael Phelpses of the wood shop; it was just a good punchline). Being able to play at your craft and take a day to do it, feels like an extravagance, but like any element of “play” it adds to the overall value of your work.

Special thanks to Dennis and his family (who took time to bring us lunch and hang out). AND, for sharing their dad/husband on a holiday.

Social Media is not like Tobacco

With new revelations about Facebook and Instagram knowingly putting profits above the well-being of their users (aka products) many have started comparing these companies to the tobacco industry. This is an apt comparison: tobacco companies for years hid the risks of their product. They knowingly made people sick, very sick, and made lots of money in the process.

Social media is a little more nuanced in the way it hurts people. If someone uses tobacco every day for years, they will almost certainly have a definitive physical health issue (cancer, emphysema, and/or ashtray breath). Alternatively, if someone uses social media for extended periods everyday, they will likely have status as an “influencer” a shit ton of followers, and be really good at selfies.

They likely find themselves isolated. Questioning their self-worth/physical image. And missing valuable time they could have spent learning how to hand cut dovetails.

That may not be true for everyone. My grandfather smoked camel non-filters every day from 15 to 77 and died without any cancer. Many influencers likely have great friend and family circles and fulfilling lives offline.

But I wanted to argue that social media is actually NOT like tobacco. Smoking tobacco, outside of tasting good to some people and being important in spiritual rituals for some is mostly just dangerous. In my youth I definitely enjoyed smoking and was frankly, quite good at it.

Social media is more like alcohol.

We know alcohol is dangerous—that’s why we have a minimum age for use, and generally try to control it. You’re not supposed to drive after drinking. And over consumption of it will kill you…after seriously disrupting your life. When enjoyed in moderation it brings people together. When in excess, it can be isolating.

Alcohol is problematic. People become addicted to it; it causes health and social issues. Not everyone can control their use of it. I personally have all kinds of negative associations with alcohol and I’m sensitive to others who share that.

Despite all of that, alcohol also brings people together. When handled responsibly and safely, alcohol has a net positive effect. Back when we went to bars regularly, you could meet a person there, share a few laughs, maybe continue to stay in touch, maybe not. It’s that kind of incidental social interaction that blue zones enjoy and is attributed longevity. It is, in ways, a tool that when handled properly enhances your social life and some argue even your physical health.

As a small business, Instagram does the same thing. It is incredibly effective at getting the word out about what small businesses do. Many people run their businesses exclusively through Facebook (now Meta) platforms. I have followers on IG with whom I joke around—despite never having met them. People meet me in person and already know a bit about me because of this…they may have even sought me out at an event. This is both jarring to my Gen X introverted sensibilities and also really great.

These platforms allow my artist friends to share their work, get feedback, have their fans “votes” on new product ideas, and generally raise awareness about what they do. It is incredibly effective marketing. I truly enjoy seeing people I admire on IG posting their new work, sharing their new ideas, and even sharing their personal lives. It’s like a really nice glass of red wine with a good meal, or solid IPA after a fulfilling day in the shop.

HOWEVER.

I have also found myself scrolling through reels of the dumbest shit for 30-40 minutes at a time. The algorithm, the random “rewards”, the LOLz…all carefully programmed to keep me watching like a 24 hour news cycle of the mundane. This, my friends, is like my college roommate funneling Coors light into oblivion. It ain’t good. It steals time. It prevents me from reading literature, writing, or actually connecting with real people.

With the new revelations about Facebook ignoring warnings from internal research about the role its products played in recent political madness around the world and the damage it causes to young users, I considered de-platforming myself. A big part of me does not want to be a part of that mechanism. I don’t want to give them one more bite of data or product to wedge between ads. But as a small business, and just a curious human, I wanted to remain tied in.

I generally gave up drinking earlier this year for various reasons. I’m not alcoholic. I still enjoy a few drinks here and there. It is something I really enjoy in small doses and in the right context. More and more, I see social media in the same way. Less is definitely more. Consider my Instagram pretty much a latergram. I’ll jump on periodically to keep on top of what’s happening. But generally, its a 2 drink maximum for me. For reels.

All the small things

Wise people will tell you that good humans don’t wake up one day and become criminals; they move toward a life of crime one small step at a time. Cutting a corner here, fibbing a little here, then one day they’re Bernie friggin’ Madoff. The same is true for success, they say: you don’t one day wake up having achieved all of your life goals. You get up and move toward them every day and make steady progress in the right direction. .

What’s that got to do with woodworking? Glad you asked.

Ever since I was a kid, small boxes appealed to me. My dad kept one on his dresser that held all kinds of treasures (a nice watch, old coins, etc.). Maybe that was part of it, but it’s something that’s been true for me for a long time. I’ve made lots of boxes too…part of my attraction to dovetails.

To the outside observer, making a small box probably seems easy—it IS small, after all. But size does matter and sometimes getting results with a small piece is more challenging…so they say.

• Most woodworking tools, especially machines, are meant for larger things, so you have be clever in using your tools. This is true for everything from cutting tools to vises and work holding in general .

• Any small mistake will be immediately apparent to every one. While every tiny mistake always haunts the maker’s mind for years (even if they are not visible to anyone else), a small gap on a small box seems to really jump out at every one. It’s almost as if the smallness of the object magnifies mistakes.

• From a professional stand point, it’s hard to charge enough money for a small box to make it worth it. The box pictured here is generally going to take me about two full work days (plus a bit more time designing and a bit of time worrying about it not coming out as well as I’d like).

So, with all of this in mind, I was truly overjoyed when I had a customer inquire about a box commission: it was a gift for her husband for their anniversary. It was to be made in walnut with hand cut dovetails. My heart was singing.

Like life, woodworking is a lot about avoiding and fixing mistakes. You have to know your medium well enough to predict when the wood might do something goofy and approach it in a way that prevents said goofiness. Or, should it be goofy despite your best efforts, know how to fix it. This bit of wisdom is especially important when starting a small project (see point above). You can apply this analogy to other parts of life as you see fit.

Most projects begin with “milling” the wood. If you’re not in the know, hardwoods generally come to the woodworker “rough” straight from the sawmill and they need to be made flat and smooth so they can be properly worked. This milling process (jointing and planing) is incredibly important because everything follows from it: it is the foundation of the project. If the foundation of house is built improperly, you really shouldn’t proceed; if you do, you should expect more problems.

For a box, typically we will also re-saw the milled wood (essentially slice the board in half by its thickness, so a 1” board becomes 1/2”). In version 1 of this box, my re-saw work was a little sloppy. By the time I cleaned it up, rather than having 1/2” stock, it was somewhere around 5/16” or maybe skinny 3/8”. It was thinner than I wanted. But I thought it would work (shaky foundation, not a good idea).

I cut the dovetails with this stock and things were going well: joints were looking tight and everything was cool. I then set about cutting the rabbet (a 90 degree recess that receives the bottom panel of the box). When I did this, the router bit grabbed the work piece and tore off a corner (remember above: machines are typically intended for larger work and the craftsperson needs to be clever…I was not clever ). Sometimes, this kind of chip can be glued back on. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the piece was chewed up and not something I could easily repair.

I was not too disappointed with this outcome. I had already made the stock too thin to begin with, and this router incident only highlighted that fact. It was, however, time to start over.

The wood for box #2 was milled perfectly. I skipped res-awing and just milled it to 1/2 inch thickness. This time, somehow, my dovetail cutting was just off. I’ve cut thousands of dovetails—I used to practice daily and I am pretty confident in my hand-cut dovetail capabilities. BUT, this time, something was off and they were a bit gappy in spots. As this was already my second effort I was less than eager to start over again, so I glued the thing together and planned to fill the gaps using the myriad tricks I’ve learned for this over the years. These tricks are kinda like a an Instagram filter—the piece looks good, but you can kinda tell something is up. Crisply cut joints sing; joints with filled gaps kind of hum.

As I glued the piece together, however, a chip broke out right on the top piece—the part that would become the lid. This happens from time to time, and typically we just glue them back on. I did this, and that glue attempt failed. I stared at the piece. It stared back at me. I looked at the gaps in the dovetails…not terrible, but not great. I knew I could do it better. I left the piece on my bench, still in clamps, and decided to look at it the next day and then decide. Knowing that at this step, things always look worse than they really are.

You can still see where the glue just didn’t take.

When I came back to the piece and cleaned it up I found myself in the place of, “if you have to ask the question, you already know the answer.” Like a dog that is not going to walk another step and lays down on the sidewalk to make its point, this box was telling me: “I’m done”. The joints were gappy, there was an unsightly chip that didn’t want to glue back into place; the dimensions were a bit off. And…and this is hard to describe, but it didn’t have the right feel…it had no energy…it wanted to be put aside, not picked up and looked at.

These gaps were just not tolerable. Chip above stayed there, mocking me.

I went back to the lumber rack.

Third time was the charm, thank you baby Jesus.

Making a small item is kinda like working under a microscope. Every detail is put into relief. At the end of the day, a small gap in a dovetail joint doesn’t mean that much: the joint would be plenty strong enough and the box would hold everything securely. It would have looked good to anyone who wasn’t an over-caffeinated woodworker. But I wanted to do it better and with several mistakes already in place, I knew they were only going to compound as I went forward.

Similarly, cutting a small corner in any aspect of life isn’t going to immediately disrupt the universe. But keep cutting those small corners and things start to get really off course. Something in us as humans makes us want to persist—to keep moving forward even when the best thing to do might be to stop, to start over, to press pause. When I had that first box milled too thin, the proper thing to do would have been to put that wood aside, use it for something else later, and start over. It would have been faster in the long run. Similarly, when I saw that the joints were not great in box #2, I should have addressed that: either modified them before gluing, if possible, or started over right there. That would have been the proper thing to do. The human thing (and honestly, the motivated business-owner move), was to try to make it work.

Wood, like life, is tricky. You can learn all there is to learn about wood and it can still surprise you. You do not fully control it. It will sometimes, literally, take turns you could not have predicted and you will have to try to make it work, or start over. You can do everything right and it may not turn out the way you wanted. Sometimes you won’t have all the tools or knowledge you need to get through a project and you may need some help; sometimes that won’t be enough. You’re always trying to make things as perfectly as possible knowing that both you and the material are imperfect. My conclusion, recently, is that you may be disappointed in your outcome, but you have to recognize you’re not fully in control of it. You try to get better every day. You can only control your efforts and do what you can to look back and be proud of them.

I was disappointed with how long it took me to get it right. But I am proud of this box.

Being a professional

“Being a professional is doing the things you love to do, on the days you don’t feel like doing them.” —Julius Erving, aka Dr. J, professional basketball player/legend. 

We’re in the midst of a pandemic. Life has been...weird. As I have written elsewhere, I have faced challenges over the past year separate and apart from anything Covid-19 related. And the past 2 months have been super busy in the shop. As pandemic restrictions decrease and we start to reopen, stores and restaurants are also opening (for the first time) and they want their furniture. Some projects were on hold, some are new, but they are all due sooner than you would think. As a business owner, it’s a blessing and I’m grateful for it.

Also, I feel compelled to share some other thoughts about this. Namely, as a professional, this is my job. And there are many people who have told me directly, or whose spouses have told me when their partners were out of ear shot, “s/he would love to do what you’re doing—make stuff professionally.” I have mixed feelings about this which I have shared with those who have asked; but, I think it important to share here how it is I made the decision to pursue my craft, and also give space to some new revelations.

First, I had (and still maintain a part time commitment to) a very good federal government job. When I decided back in 2010-11 that I eventually wanted to build things full time, I started down a path of semi-financial independence wherein we paid off our house and lived frugally (check out www.mrmoneymustache for tips). I had a base of clients and a decent retail line in place before I became at all dependent on my craft for money.

The other thing I did was a tip I learned from Daniel Gilbert’s book, Stumbling on Happiness (which I found as an audiobook on CD at a street sale in Baltimore nearly 20 years ago.) Gilbert is a psychologist who argues that we are very bad predictors of our future happiness/selves. So making big changes in our life based on how we think we will feel about the new lifestyle is ill-advised. Instead, he suggests we find other people who have done similar things and ask them how they feel, what they would do differently, what they recommend, etc. I have to say that I got such incredible and generous responses from, in some cases, complete strangers. I do not want to list my informal advisors here because I chose/found them for me and I think each of us should stumble upon our own for personal resonance. Plus, it’s part of the fun. This aside, I don’t know that they would necessarily want to be publicly highlighted. 

But you might ask, how did I find them? Well, the universe can be uncanny sometimes. One very generous, talented craftsman was featured in a major city paper one day and that story ended up in my google news feed. Our lives/stories had so many similarities that I felt compelled to reach out. He responded with pages of good advice and insight and even audited my Instagram feed. Another craftsperson was mentioned off-handedly in a book I was reading as an engineer who quit his job to make furniture full time. I found an email and cold-called with a few specific questions. The next day, another email with a ton of great info. 

The one direct recommendation I will make is Nancy Hiller’s book, Making Things Work. Nancy is an incredible furniture maker, scholar, admirer of nature, writer, and an overall excellent human being. The book chronicles her life as a woodworker and the challenges/problems she faces. It takes the shine off any romantic ideas you might have of a working life that consists solely of listening to your favorite albums loudly while watching the crisp shavings float off a walnut board in your shop. No. You have clients and they can be squirrely. You have bills. You have problems (“It’s all problems”).

I thought a lot about this book and the quote which I used to open this entry this past week. I started a job late last week that is pretty simple. I am teamed up with another maker to build out a restaurant with tables and benches. He is making the metal bases; I am making the wooden tops. The tops are 6/4 Oak (that’s roughly 1.5” for any non-wood nerds). The delivery truck dropped a pallet on the sidewalk outside my house in D.C. at 9:30 am. I spent an hour carefully inspecting and restacking the wood in my basement. I sweated through my shirt. Twice. After an afternoon of finishing up other jobs, I started milling some of the boards. If you have never pushed 6 foot length of solid oak across a jointer 4-5 times, then repeated the process 10 times, you just haven’t lived, my friend. And by lived I mean, had a total body workout at work that will give you what my friend Will used to call “no shower arms”...as in, your arms are so tired you can’t lift them to wash your hair in the shower.

The deadlines/coordination of the job, combined with the volume and my small shop space means I need to work quickly and steadily. So, I worked through the weekend. My hands/forearms are tired. My feet are tired. And my shoulders are fatigued. While I was restacking all those oak boards from the pallet (which by the way are 12’ long and probably 75lbs or so) I thought to myself, “this is silly. Your shop is too small for this job. You should slow down. You should avoid commercial jobs—it’s too stressful.” But then I went to the shop with one of the boards in hand. I milled it to see what it would look like. It’s gorgeous...and oak is maybe the nicest smelling wood you can have in the shop. And as soon as I saw that freshly milled wood, I was right back on track, knowing I was doing the right work. That doesn’t mean I’m not still tired. And that I should be updating my bookkeeping rather than writing a blog post. And that I will need a solid 15 minutes of stretching before work today. But it still feels right.