Soles glued to plane bodies.

Surprisingly, we did this using Elmer's glue (or some PVA cousin). There was rather extensive discussion regarding the pros and cons of Elmer's vs. Titebond (I, II, and III). Final point: don't leave your plane out in the rain and you won't need Titebond III's waterproofing properties.

Also, there are never enough clamps to go around.

I'm out of fun workshop-related tidbits, so I'll rewind to last Friday, when I went to the handmade/mindmade show, featuring the work of the 9-month students of the College of the Redwoods program.

I got to see an original James Krenov cabinet. It was the only thing I was too intimidated (and not sure I was allowed) to touch.

The work was amazing -- even more amazing was the amount of trust they had in the audience to actually touch the pieces on display. (It reminds me of when Dessa walks off of the stage into the crowd during her performances and I'm not sure there won't be some baccante scene.)

I was all about the cabinets that night. It's been my not-so-secret ambition since reading A Cabinetmaker's Notebook to build one myself.

From Krenov's books, I've read a lot about pieces like these, but it's nearly impossible to find them in person. (I can never find them included in museum catalogs or on exhibit, and I don't even know how I'd begin to figure out who the private collectors are, let alone approach them so I could see the work.) The images online don't do the details justice, either.

Seeing the details -- the hand-carved pulls, the set of the the hinges, the shelf to hold objects at the right height so they're not truncated by the lower frame -- and being able to experience them as I handled the objects (ever so carefully) made it an unforgettable experience.

Two thoughts (and then I have to sleep):

1. When I was applying to art school (and still seventeen years old), I was given the advice to go where "the student work on the walls intimidated me."

2. During the panel discussion Friday evening, an audience member asked about the sacrifices the woodworkers had made for their work.

I've been thinking a lot about the nature of work, why we do it, and how it impacts us and others. My sacrifices are more trade-offs (a list of things I can un-begrudgingly live without, like children and a social life), but it's not without its costs (the shit my partner has to put up with, the gnawing thoughts of what I could be building, how I could be better).

It's day three, and I (already? still?) come home exhausted. Feeding myself is difficult. Keeping my yoga practice is an exercise in will power. I'm grateful because the exhaustion is physical, rather than mental or emotional. I don't wonder "what the hell did I even accomplish today" or "was that even worth it." And it's nice to be able to bank on my motor skills and being present for once.

Square to round. I really like the chiseling and filing process.

jess ouyang

day 3