The Argument for Handmade

How can it be possible that this is my 400th blog post?

Some people have written to tell me they've gone back and read every post I've written. All I can say is - thanks for sticking around, some of the stuff here falls right into the drivel category. Especially some of my earliest stuff. What was I thinking? Sure, I could go back and delete it, but it is sort of like erasing pages in your diary. What's the point?

I saw this video today and I can't tell you how much I loved it. Grab a cup of coffee, and put your feet up.

That video made me remember something that I had forgotten. I was recently in e-mail contact with a cousin of mine, and we were talking about family stuff. She's an artist, too, and I mentioned to her that I thought my sister was really the talented one in my family, the one with true artistic vision. And our conversation reminded me of this book that my sister gave me, many many years ago.


I think she gave this to me right as I was heading off to college, and of course, I had no idea what I was going to study. I used to joke that during my first year in school, I majored in majors.

But I eventually found the path I wanted to take, and honestly, looking back, I think this book may have nudged me in the direction of furniture making. I remember looking at every single page, with the images searing into my brain.

I just grabbed the book from my bookshelf and thumbed through the yellowed pages. It was a little shocking, I see little details in my current work gleaned from pieces of furniture in this book.


I vividly remember seeing this cabin and thinking to myself - I want to live like that someday.


And ten years later, I built this home for myself.


First of all, how is that even possible that I can remember that, when I can't even remember what I wore yesterday, or had for dinner last night? But I swear, I remember it.


All of this reminds me that is the small things in life that really do give us a good deal of joy. Like owning a really good knife, or having a really perfect overstuffed chair where you might enjoy that whiskey sour in the evening. Life can't be perfect for us; in fact, it is often so imperfect that it is frustrating.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I am not preaching about acquiring things. I am writing about having good, solid things in your life, that make you happy. It could be something handed down, or bought at a flea market. The origin isn't as important as the thought and reasoning and inspiration behind it.

That is why I so badly want to buy one of those knives, even though I have a drawer full of Wusthofs and Santokus and a Henckel or two.