If you have been a regular reader (thank you!), you may have noticed that I’ve not been posting much—for a while now. In the interest of explanation, and as a genuine observation on the place that woodworking has in my life, I’ve decided to explain why. Maybe it will be of use to you; maybe it will be of use to me. But we’re here to talk and share and think about woodworking, and we so rarely discuss woodworking outside the context of its being a hobby (except in the case of such things as charity and fellow-woodworkers-in-need). That said, I’ve debated a post on this subject for almost a year… So here we go!
I spent a large part of the last year in the midst of a divorce. Sometimes life gets in the way of living, and we have to step back and consider where we spend our time and energy, our love and attention, and our money. My enthusiasm for wood and woodworking (and hand tools, let’s be honest) cannot be disparaged. My time and energy, love and attention, and money, apparently, can. I had Big Plans for many projects. I finally had a usable workbench. Full speed ahead. Then, suddenly, it was all so unimportant in the grand scheme.
Upon later reflection, I realized that I had spent an inordinate amount of time making stuff for the ex. Cutting boards, kitchen stuff, planters and trinkets, aids for the aging cats—that sort of thing. The plans for bigger stuff were related to our collective needs. In the face of the split, it was hard to think about spending so much time toiling away on things that would have been for both of us. So I planned some projects for me, like some funky speaker stands that are also floor lamps, which I will post about once I get a little further on them.
Shortly afterwards, I discovered rock climbing, as a way to clear my head and get some exercise, and it became a more effective (and more social) way for me to spend my spare time. Productivity was less important than getting my bearings, so up I went. I’m happy to say that it has become one of my favorite things, and I wish I had started when I was younger.
But I digress, as I often do. So what am I on about here?
It is a rare opportunity—when one finds oneself suddenly standing at the edge of a giant crack in the ground, and can stare into everything that has been known and unknown, all at once. I found that I have a passion for wood—the mechanics of it, the tools used to work it, joinery, discussions about technique, and the occasional near-miss accident. Yes, even tool wars. I also found that, at least at this stage in my life, I don’t run to woodworking as an escape as I once did. It is not an island oasis for me to strand myself upon in times of stress and difficulty; it is a place I go when I need something—when I want to enjoy the process of designing and making that thing myself. It is not a place I will go every night and/or weekend just because it’s there. It is a place I will go to enrich myself, to learn and to grow, whenever it is right.
That sounds like evolution to me. It sounds like a maturation of my concept of woodworking as it relates to my life. Oddly, it coincides with my long aspirations to get back into being an actual artist. As I stare at 50 square feet of veneer on the floor in my office, neatly arranged by shade and texture, wood is now a part of that goal too.
Of course, I’ll post about that some day…
Next up, however, a walnut trestle table and matching benches. Stay tuned, and thanks!
