The Art of Being an Artist…

KTW #0305

I sold this console table at the Portland Saturday Market two weeks ago. I always ask folks who purchase my work, to send me pictures when my wine racks are in their new home stocked full of bottles. I got this photo in an e-mail. Pretty cool, my creation has found a good home. This piece was one of the first few prototype wine racks I built back in 2005. I had it in my house for a year or so, just to live with it, look at it and see how the glue joints and spray finish held up. Then it was in storage for a while and finally I need space in the shop, so I’m selling off my prototype/models.

I got to thinking about how I am  keeping track of the products I make here in scenic Portland . I use a pretty simple system, The first two numbers are the sequence through year and the last two are the  year. So this piece was the third one made in 2005, the year I built this shop and started branding the work.

Sutter Street circa 1989

In all the years I have built furniture, cabinets and woodworking projects in my shops, I never thought to sign the work. I ran across these photos recently and remembered how I began to sign and number my work.

In ’89 I was working off of scaffolding four stories off the ground, restoring the facade of an ornate old Victorian set of flats on Sutter Street in San Francisco. Somebody way in the past shot a gun into the air. Falling to earth, the bullet made a hole in the metal roofing that covered this conical roof. Throughout many years, water leaked into the attic through this dime sized hole. It drained into the front outside wall, down four stories all the way to the ground. With the exterior siding and trims constructed out of Redwood, they did not decay, but much of the wall and roof framing beneath it rotted away and the nails were crumbs of rust.

Above: a shot of the old rusted metal roof and the new galvanized sheet metal flashing I made to adhere the new “Torch Down” roofing membrane. Below: the finished roof.

My job was to gut the interior of the three flats and completely remodel the building. There was money in the budget to repair the facade of the building but not enough to address the horrible conditions that were hidden by 80 years of paint. My guys and I took most of the front apart to repair and replace the deteriorated framing and put it back together to appear as it did originally. We had a small carpentry shop set up in the basement, but much of the work of reconstructing the attic dormers and refurbishing the windows and trims, was done by hauling a table saw, chop saw, router table, etc, up on the scaffolding and cutting parts next to the work.

All of these big crown moldings I milled to match the existing shape down in the basement and then cut the joints up on a small platform. Meanwhile a painter spent three months stripping, sanding, prepping and priming the whole facade.

Above: Detail of galvanized metal flashing I fabbed in place. This shot is between the twin circle head dormers that light the attic, which I turned into a huge Master Bedroom and Bath with Jacuzzi. Everything on the exterior was caulked with a high-tech, flexible, paint-able adhesive caulking as it was assembled. I wish I could have used copper for the flashing, but there just wasn’t any money in the budget for any of this to begin with. It will still last another eighty years. Below: Owens Corning roofing material.

I can’t really relate how difficult and tedious it was to repair the siding and trims. It might have been easier and better to strip the whole front of the building and make it new, but there just wasn’t the money. Plus, we ran into costly problems restoring the curved windows and plumbing and mechanical issues too. When these places were built, they had gas light fixtures, no electricity, no hot water or heat.

Above: Column bases surrounding the attic windows. These dormers were the most time-consuming to repair, because the water leaked there first and the original construction was built to look good, not last for a hundred years of weather. Below: The circle head dormer roofs with new roof flashing.

I wish I had pictures of the interiors but these are the only photos I thought to take. The reason I tell this story is that I spent nearly a year of my life working on this building and had a few extremely close calls where I could have died in an instant.

October 17th, I called it a day for the first time in three months and sent my guys home ten minutes early. A few seconds later I was on the Central Freeway thinking, where is everybody? It’s rush hour and this place is deserted! I got out to the Candlestick Grade, saw the ball park and I remembered why we called it early… to go home and watch the World Series! That’s where everybody was. Seconds later, down by the SF Airport the magnitude 7.1 Loma Preita earthquake struck as I was driving.

Long story short, that part of the Central Freeway was eventually demolished from seismic failure. The building I was working on survived with minor drywall cracks. The seismic upgrades we did worked as designed. I had to go back and finish the job because the scaffolding rental cost a $1000 a week. The Saturday after the main quake, I was working on the pair of  circle head dormers that lit the attic room. A 5.3 aftershock went off followed by a 5.2 about twenty minutes later. The scaffolding “walked”  twenty-two inches down the street and didn’t topple over because I tethered it to the building. It got my attention for sure. We were so close to getting our carpentry work done, we just kept on going. People were streaming out of all the buildings surrounding us. The looked up at us and yelled, you guys are nuts!

My painting contractor was working on stripping 80 years of paint from the face of the dormers. He called me over to show me where the original carpenter had signed his work in a beautiful big flowing cursive scrip. I have built some pretty cool stuff for people with guts, vision and big checking accounts, but I never thought to sign my work. It was good enough to sign their checks.

Since I built my little shop here in the “UnderWorld”, I have been signing and dating the pieces I build. Not because I think it’s great work or that I am an artist, but  simply to track my production and have inventory control.

I think my furniture pieces will probably outlast me. Who knows, someday in the 100th year of Antiques Road Show, the expert will see the serial #0305 and say this was an early piece, probably a prototype for what was to come. I wonder if that carpenter had any idea that his work would survive into the next century. In in ’04 I did a remodel/addition on a small commercial building here in Multnomah Village. The latest tenants have already torn off part of the front of the building and changed it again, so nothing lasts.

If the earthquakes hadn’t happened, I might have thought to add my name under his signature, or put a time capsule in one of the walls for some future restorer to discover.

I would like to think that my little pieces, just as objects, have a shot at surviving long after I am gone. I hope I can hang on here long enough to keep on designing and working. I have years worth of ideas and sketch books. As long as I can keep finding nice material, I think I can make pieces that people see and connect with. I hope I can continue to experiment and grow as a woodworker.

I feel like it has taken me five years be able to manufacture these wine racks pretty quickly on a small scale. Finding great material that will make the exercise worth my time and effort is going to be my biggest challenge.

When I look at objects, cars, buildings, art, etc, I always wonder about the minds that had the idea, drew the plan and made the things. I wonder how much time was spent, how much energy, how much frustration, what the feelings were at different points in the process. Was there a single person or a collaboration, different designers and builders? Were they pleased, disappointed or just glad to have work?

Someday a person that has done a little woodworking or is a person that has been involved in projects of any kind, might have the same thoughts looking at one of my pieces. They will turn it over and see my KTW brand and signature. They will know that they are looking at time from someone’s life.

The next trick is to figure out a way sell this stuff. The art of being an artist is getting paid for it.

The Parade @ Portland Saturday Market

Finally the summer weather is here. Saturday and Sunday were busy days at the Portland Saturday Market.

The infamous space #599... next to the porta-potties. Not that bad, you know... eventually everybody makes their way over here.

Usually I pick spaces over on the west side of Naito Parkway near the Skidmore Fountain. I have never been on the east side they call the pavilion, near the river. It was definately different. Many vendors came by and ask if I was new because they had never seen me before. I took a quick spin through the pavilion and realized that I had never seen most of the vendors either because I’m always sitting on my booth across the street. A vendor that had never seen my stuff stopped by to talk. She remarked that my prices were very reasonable… then looked at the tag on the checker board piece and said, “This one is way too cheap!”

I was talking to a couple that were interested in maybe giving the PSM a try to sell woodworking products. I tried to relate my experience so far. I said I can tell you what happens but many times I have no clue why. Take this checker board topped wine rack for instance. People see it from 40 feet away and make a bee line for it. Sometimes I don’t think that they even know what it is, just that I looks interesting. Every minute someone will walk up, feel the finish, oh… ahh, nice work!

$ .05

I quipped the line I use: “If I had a nickel for every time someone rubs their hand on the surface… I wouldn’t have to sell them!” In two months I still haven’t sold the piece.

$ .10

Right at that point two young women were in the process of an extra vigorous hand rub.

I said, “Now these ladies are into me for about a quarter because that is more than a rub… they are fondling it!

More that a rub...

When I explained, they reached into their purses…

Fondling fees... $.25 each!

That’s what I’m talking about! We all laughed so hard. It’s great to laugh. For the rest of the day I tried to ambush photos, but they are mostly sneaky and too fast for me. I wouldn’t cut it as paparazzi.

Is two hands a dime?

This delightful lady was in town looking for a place to live and would like to have one of my pieces for her new place.

She copped a quick feel for the road...

So it went all weekend:

Finally this lady when confronted with her unabashed fondling said,

"Thanks for letting me fondle your wood!"

My thanks to all who bought wine racks from me this weekend! I appreciate the support.

Custom Wine Rack

A few weeks after the Turkey-Rama Experience, I received an E-mail from a couple that had talked to me about needing a wine rack. They joined a wine club and were accumulating bottles just a little faster than they could enjoy them. They liked the idea that I was trying to use recycled, reclaimed or salvaged materials. I explained how my design was modular in nature and could expand in height and width in increments of bottles and racks. After some consideration they sent me dimensions that would fit in a space appropriate for their need to store about fifty bottles. This is not the tallest rack I have produced, but the largest capacity and widest at nine bottles by seven racks for sixty-three bottles.

They also mentioned that it was more for storage and not for formal display. In other words, “It didn’t really have to look as nice as the rest of my stuff”. I began by looking at what kinds of material I had on hand and decided to use Pine for the racks and top, fir for the legs.  As I began to mill the parts for the racks I realized that the stretchers were so long they were warping slightly making it hard for me to machine and assemble the racks.

I have neighbors in a nice big shop that make beautiful, high quality upholstered couches and chairs. John from MAD Furniture caters to the professional interior design trade and goes through stacks of kiln dried Alder hardwood for the frames. He gives me long rips and short off cuts from his milling operations. It is perfect for my needs. So I shelved the parts and started over with Alder for the rack parts.

Once I changed the plan, I used material from some logs I salvaged and dried two years ago. I call them the Bertha Blvd. Logs… because that is where I saw them laying on a sidewalk for a three weeks, after a tree service trimmed trees away from power lines. I’m not sure what kind of trees but my guess was Western Maple. The legs were milled out of some Poplar pallet skids I found years ago and have used on many projects. These were the last pieces of that material.

Some of the Bertha Blvd. logs were pretty clear, but this one had some worm holes and small loose knots, so I decided to distress the top rather than to fill the defects. We weren’t going to apply any finish to the rack when it was just pine and fir, but the Alder racks and Poplar legs planed out so nicely that I left them smooth and only used my distressing tools to gently beat the top, then apply boiled linseed oil.

While some folks don’t like the distressed look others do. I began to experiment with distressing techniques after I worked so hard milling salvaged pine and fir lumber to glean clean clear material for furniture pieces, tediously sanding them smooth… only to have my heart broken when they were dinged, scratched or dented from the slightest knock. I found this hand-made meat tenderizer in a dumpster and I broke out my MIG welder to weld nuts, bolts and washers on a broken ratchet wrench. By gently spinning them over a surface I have instant antiques. I might be sleazy from a fine furniture standpoint… but the customer specified not too nice! I’m no woodworking legend like Sam Maloof or James Krenov, but the pieces are made with power tools to avoid the drudgery and assembled by hand using traditional joinery techniques. Here are breadboard ends with Black Walnut through tenons.

Still, it’s hard for me to not do the best job I can. My roots are in rough carpentry and framers have a saying when a guy is taking to long or doing too nice a job… “Hey, this ain’t no Piano”. No, it’s a 40″ X 40″ X 15″, sixty-three bottle wine rack.

Thanks so much to the Pitkins for supporting my efforts. I glad it went to a good home.