I was so enthusiastic about posting this blog, but a load of homework (some my own, and some helping friends) hit me like a board to the face, and that board had nails in it. Speaking of boards and nails!!! Me and my brothers ventured down to my grandaddy’s workshop to build a table for a lovely friend this past weekend.
Obviously, the best part about building is using the measuring tape and saws. I always feel pretty badass until I’ve cut all the pieces, and then I realize somehow those parts have to make a table. Uh oh. My grandaddy has woodworking down like an inborn art. Too impatient to learn all his tips paciently, I try to scrap together the little bit that I know, and rush into a building project. Once I’m stumped, I end up just staring at a sawdust covered floor until I’m tired, and I want to give up. Thankfully, a higher power came into play, well…higher brain power in the form of my brother John.
It’s always nice when he helps build, so that way I can sword fight Jared with wood scraps and obsessively brush saw dust off surfaces to pretend I’m contributing to the table making effort. John was kind enough to leave some screws for me to drill in, so in my mind I could get away with feeling like a legit carpenter.
The toughest part about making tables is the measurements. Measuring one cut at a time doesn’t seem so bad, but all those pieces, if they are a fraction of a millimeter off, can come together to all off balance each other, making a wobbly table. I’m speaking from experience because we made a wobbly table. However, in the end we fixed it.
There is a deep connection that runs into my heart’s creative space when I see wood cut into a purposed form. Previous pieces that were so distinct and thrown about, have become one magnificent living room piece. Somewhat tragically, this table, in its humility, seems easily made, but really, a substantial amount of problem solving, thought, and minor cuts and scratches all went into making that singular table. All we ask that table to do is hold whatever we place on it, but isn’t that beautiful that I, in return, have fewer things to hold for myself?