Tarp City Gypsies

This Blog's Over

2011-08-07T19:49:00.000-07:00

Thanks for following, I'll be posting more of my current endeavours here

New Site on The Way

2011-04-05T18:15:00.000-07:00

Keep checking back often

Open for Business!

2011-03-30T19:12:00.000-07:00

Visit Jeff Martin Joinery at ETSY

Photo Update

2011-03-09T16:11:00.001-08:00

So busy with work, no time for type.

2011 Photo Update

2011-02-11T17:48:00.000-08:00

The year has been off to a great start. Apart from getting some exposure with some lather brushes down in Gastown & being offered an apprenticeship in Brooklyn, NY with Palo Samko - I have landed a good number of contracts to get the ball rolling.

A big thanks to John and Kai Thompson for involving me in the Beijing Project. John is a traditionally trained Japanese temple carpenter who apprenticed during the 70s. Since, he has moved into design and completed a vast array of high brow projects. And his son Kai, who is equally talented as a technician of sorts has been on the job with his Pop since he was just a young lad. Kai has provided great insight to me while I've started to learn how to weld.

Our current project has been to produce the innards for a Penthouse suite in the downtown core of China's capital. Everything is being handcut form local (to us) reclaimed woods like Ontario Cherry, Oregon White Oak, Eastern Maple, and Ash. And shipped via container over for the install which Kai will coordinate.

Additionally, I'm excited to start another one of my own renovations and furniture builds for a wonderful couple who are moving into Point Grey from West Vancouver. I purchased an exquisite log of windfell curly Cherry from Pennsylvania. As well as some other bits of Washington grown Swiss Pear, Claro Walnut, and Oregon White Oak. Needless to say, lots and lots of designs to be coming out in the New Year.

Please inquire personally to jeffmartinjoinery@hotmail.com for all builds and commissions; small and large, replicas or custom sizing.

Fresh to Market

2011-01-11T12:05:00.000-08:00

Jeff Martin Joinery produced Shaving Brushes and Plinths.

The brushes are made from the finest pure silvertip badger hair, featuring handles turned from exquisitely figured offcuts from various furniture products. Species include Marbled English Walnut, BC Bitter Cherry, and AAAAA Claro Walnut.

The plinths are fabricated from windfall AAA Quilted Maple from the Fraser Valley.

They feature one bored-out cup for your brush and one cup for the shaving soap of your choice (pictured is Col. Ichabod Conk's Almond shaving pucks).

The wonderful duo of Savannah and Walter behind gastown's Old Faithful Shop are stocking these bad boys at $189 for the combo of the plinth, shave brush, and soap.

Head down to Old Faithful to grab yours today. 320 W. Cordova St. Vancouver, BC 778 327 9376.

Lather Brushes

2011-01-06T23:34:00.000-08:00

Because:

1.) Aerosol cans of shaving soap are extremely inefficient. They last for a couple of months and you have to dispose of an entire can; which may have been a royal achievement in design at one point - now, is monumentally stupid. A puck of shaving soap will last 12 months and only costs $6.

2.) The simple act of applying the lather brush and soap to one's face raises the hair - and provides for a cleaner shave. You don't need an old time straight razor or safety blade. Just your average product. (But when you do get sick of your razor looking like a neon and rubber toy on your vanity - check out Momentum Grooming on Burrard)

3.) Marbled English Walnut and a morning routine which hearkens back to your Grandpappy.

Can we sustain viable manufacturing in Canada?

2011-01-05T19:48:00.000-08:00

Scientists used to blow their own glass for vials, beakers, dishes, tubes, and meters. Carpenters used to play a predominant role in the architectural and structural engineering components of construction. Our cities, at one point were entirely constructed on the tenets of craftsmanship.

Tailors, cabinetmakers, stonemasons. Timber framers, gunsmiths, jewellers. Metalsmiths, bricklayers, and tile setters. Carpenters, weavers, vintners. Chocolatiers, shoe cobblers, and brewmasters. Cheesemakers and boat builders. Clock makers, knife makers, watch makers. Painters, sculptors, and luthiers. Trunk makers and boxbuilders. Potters, bakers, chefs. Upholsterers and perfumers. These men and women of craft - of industry - at one point produced the music of the city. Pounding ballpeen hammer to anvil and weaving wool to the chromatic woosh of the loom.

And what now? Manufacturing has finally been done away with, outsourced. Good riddance they said. "We manage the financial districts - the global economy." Sort of, well - perhaps North America did at one point. So, what do we do now? The agents and salespersons and service industry generation is on the doormat and walking down the steps, unsatisfied with their final dip into the communal pot. And what of the youth eagerly camped out on the front lawn?

"Science, math, and languages are too hard."

"There's no upward mobility in the trades."

"An undergrad degree is the bare minimum requirement to earn a reputable living."

And what of the archetypal forms in European and North American craft? Will they too vanish into relics? Antiques worth their weight in Tantalum? Say goodbye to the industrial workbench, vice clamp, and lathe. Begone mallet, handplane, and shop apron. Farewell pencil, palette, and shoe last.

The mountains are purging themselves of their glaciers and everything is flowing heavily downhill. But I will not follow with, it is not for me to do. I have finally turned around and looked upstream, freezing water gushing through. My hands are swollen fists, and my bank account is clumsy at best. But this is my path - and I'm building a bridge back to the top.

If you don't build anything, don't sweat it. The world must go round, and we all must find jobs. But when you do have to make that purchase and it's nagging at you. Be it a blanket, badminton racquet, or bar stool. Just consider for one moment - that those dollars you will part ways with forevermore could be an investment.

Something you can pass on proudly to your grandkids. Something you will truly enjoy. Something you would like to take part in. Well, look around and see if you can find someone to build it for you. It is enriching.

Here's a good start for New Years resolutions. Less spending this year, take up a hobby or craft. Read more books. And less trips to IKEA.

Just so you know - there are cigars still rolled down the sunkissed thighs of cuban women; there are watches mechanized in the naturally lit lofts of Swiss crafthouses 4 centuries old; and there is a young man in an historic Vancouver studio - waiting to handcraft furniture for you.

Happy Hunting,

Jefe

A little RR and D

2010-12-17T08:31:00.000-08:00

I'll be getting away for a break with my lovely family up at the cottage in Northern Quebec where my wood fanaticism ignited. I'll be bringing along a couple of lovely little bits and chunks of offcuts from the Leather Apron Society Table and Oyster Chest, as well as some leather and a blowtorch to try juicing up a new product coming from our studio. Look for a form release of traditional shaving kits in the New Year, available at Old Faithful in Gastown.

Thanks for such a wonderful year, I have intimate personal knowledge that 2011 will be a very goood year. Very goood indeed.

Leather Apron Society Table and Oyster Chest

2010-11-29T15:52:00.000-08:00

Both new pieces from this year's show. And I feel like I may have made a resounding impact on some, so for all of you who were kind enough to come out and show your support to our artistic community in East Van, thank you so much. I have never received such encouraging accolades and genuine interest in the possibility of more commissions. I'd like to extend my deepest gratitude to my loving girlfriend who is instrumental in the design and build process for me. And a warm and deep thanks to everyone who has started to build their own collections and have included me in a long list of worthy artists.

The table is exhibition grade windfall Claro Walnut from Portland, Oregon over a cast bronze wishbone base. It is finished in handrubbed natural oil and brought to a rich sheen with a beeswax polish. It features an abstinence from the use of butterfly keys, or exposed joinery, in order to allow the grain to run uninterrupted. It is held together with a combination of internally housed joinery and a custom steel built undercarriage which is not visible from the top or sides of the piece.

The chest is constructed of the same walnut, clad with salvaged Port Orford Cedar on the inside and finished with beeswax only, and only over the walnut. It features patchwork walnut inlay work which shows the extension of integral pieces as they seem to disintegrate outward. Leather straps and brass hardware.

Thanks again and keep posted here, through my website at jeffmartinjoinery.com, or by joining me on Facebook

Handcrafted with Outstanding Materials

2010-11-15T14:07:00.000-08:00

The process has been incredible thus far. I wanted to build a table reminiscent of one of Mozart's symphonies, a Royal Canadian Ballet recital, or a Patek Phillipe watch. I wanted to build a table that Kanye would own. Each piece was individually selected from a limited stash of collector's grade wood from which Sam Maloof used periodically throughout his prolific career - and from which currently producing artists such as Roy McMakin indulge in.

There is one chunk of Bastogne Walnut (sandwiched in the 3rd picture down) I used which is quite simply the most beautiful piece of wood I have ever seen in my life. And it's my job to find the most beautiful wood I can, of which I devote countless hours daily to researching. I battled tears knowing I wouldn't get to keep it for myself as I came to the realization that it ultimately belonged in this tabletop.

And after many bumps in the road, and a sizeable investment into this piece, it is completely bittersweet to see it winding down. I take solace in the fact that it's owner is a longtime friend and mentor - and that in the very near future I will be surrounded by close friends sharing a glass of Foxtrot over it.

But for now - I'll visit her for a couple of hours each night - handrubbing her with natural oils (neglecting my loving girlfriend at home) until the bronze legs are ready.

Please join us at 1000 Parker Street Studios for the Eastside Culture Crawl from November 26-28.

Jeff Martin Joinery

At The Workbench: Table fer Breezy

2010-11-07T18:49:00.000-08:00

Quick photo update of a tabletop as it currently stands. 43" across, 89" long. It is in 3 separate pieces for easy shipping and assembly (as well as a strategic break in the joints where perpendicular grain meets which could compromise the strength of the table if glued together). It will rest on a clandestine steel undercarriage and be supported by two bronze legs.

Hoping to have at least the tabletop ready for the Culture Crawl this year. Remember to keep the dates of November 26-28 open for Vancouver's largest art show. eastsideculturecrawl.com for more info.

I'm located at 1000 Parker St Studios on the Main floor in the shared space - Beatty Street Woodworks.

Thanks,

Jeff

The Dependent

2010-11-06T18:53:00.000-07:00

Photo: Emily McFadyen

http://thedependent.ca/featured/no-screws-loose-jeff-martin-on-joinery/

A very flattering article written by Lima Al Azzeh for The Dependent. Thanks Lima!

Step 1. Cut a hole in the box.

2010-10-18T12:29:00.000-07:00

Security!

Lloyd Kahn

2010-10-10T14:27:00.001-07:00

Author, West Coast Builder, and Renaissance Man. I was recently lent one of his books by a friend. If you are a carpenter - a true builder living out here beyond the Rockies, his work offers a profound look into the mathematical complexities of building structures that seem at ease in the natural world.

SHELTER from jason sussberg on Vimeo.

Oyster Chest

2010-09-26T20:06:00.000-07:00

Sanded exterior to 60 grit

Sliding tray detail. The empty cavity above will be filled with a cheeky removable

writing tray. And the same cavity on the opposite side will contain a hard case for a laptop.

Both will have leather handles.

My first in a series of trunks. This bespoke piece was commissioned as a

Writer's Chest. The following trunks will be a blanket chest and a Bachelor's Wardrobe.

Oodles of space on this playground to dream up clandestine and wonderful

treasures.

16" Claro Walnut Moustache for the writing tray detailing.

Wood Snuff

2010-09-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

“This night I sleep among the fences under stars where I rode so long. Perfect carpentry is a thing of amazing beauty.” - Mark Anthony Jarman, The December Astronauts

A friend of mine once explained to a girl outside of Vancouver’s waterfront station (who he was seemingly trying to impregnate) that carpentry is a sensual trade. This friend of mine is a very talented carpenter and journeyman pick-up artist. He is a troubadour with an impeccable taste in music and literature, and a cured penchant for Heroin. Which adds significantly to the romantic appeal.

He has a tremendous grip on the positive elements of life. A grasp so true it could only belong to that of a carpenter.

I have the feeling that a man like him smells panties each time he passes skilsaw thru spruce. And despite his outlandish conviction that mowing plywood, mixing cement, grinding readyrod, laying trusses and plumbing king studs is a powerful aphrodesiac to our vagina’d populace - I know he is truly onto a larger idea here.

The sensuality of woodworking is profound once you let it wash over you. I’m not referring to sodomizing a spoken word poet in the woodshop over a General tablesaw. This isn’t Red Shoe Diaries. David Duchovney will not be narrating this column. I’m talking about the engagement of self and presence of mind while building. Sensual in the definitive, those five tingly ones we are blessed with. Let me explain with a particular example.

I am beginning to recognize lumber by smell, locating it’s origin by examining grain densities, striations, cellular ray dispersement patterns. Port Orford Cedar - a false cypress growing only in Southern Oregon smells of lemon and pepper. Pale yellow. Once I was leaving a jobsite in Shaughnessy for the day, and caught the smell of freshly sawn Port Orford Cedar in my olfactory. I tracked it traced it snorted it out. Three blocks away was a man falling a very small, blue needled cypress. A Port Orford Cedar - perhaps one of 5 in all of British Columbia.

And what about similar species? Yellow Cedar - which has a more piny, spruce like smell - and can be a vibrant banana yellow. Hinoki - their Japanese cousin, a genetic freak in its similarity - contains hues of pink and a stiffness in board, unbound. These are just cedars, cypresses - which I rarely use.

With nearly every pass over the cyclical hum of the jointer blades - I pause to smell my wood. Walking around jobsites I am continuously smelling the materials with which I build. Some are pleasant - some get you fucking high. In lumber yards, I can often grade the value of the lumber based on its aromas. Does it have rot? What’s the moisture content level? Air dried? Kiln dried? It can all be determined with a generally surprising accuracy using smell.

This trade which demands curiosity, inventiveness, mechanical aptitude, and a fluidity of working with living and moving materials - also demands, that at the base level of a structure, it should be: Flat, level, straight, true, plumb, and strong. And this is a beautiful and pure set of rules to abide by. But sometimes - it’s OK just to pause, sniff, and smile.

Foundry Bound!

2010-09-14T17:47:00.000-07:00

Here's a sneak peak at the newest piece (in concordance with 3 other simultaneous and unrelated projects). The leg is fairly close to it's final shape - I may shed a couple ounces of meat when trying to balance the piece side to side. This cedar sculpture was roughed in using a template and router - and tweaked with a rigorous chisel and mallet duet, before undergoing an utterly boring hand sanding. I'm getting quite proficient with the chisels now. Well at least plunging them into my thumb - which looked like a banana peel for 3 weeks after the most recent mishap.

The yellow you see on it now is simply wood filler to plug the pores, and the bulk of it still needs to be sanded away. We have been talking about a black patina finish on the cast bronze - so just hints of a bronze color will sing out from the blackened legs (yes - there will be two).

Perched atop the leg is a 24" x 36" trunk lid, for another client who is getting a journal chest with secret compartments. More on that later. But, the top will actually be of a similar layout. AAAAA Marbled Claro Walnut - salvaged in Oregon and milled by Northwest Timber. It's dimensions will stretch 44" across - and run about 8 feet long. A true behemoth.

I've just finished my first architectural millwork project, and it went swimmingly. Swimmingly is a word I have avoided in the past for it's shady etymology. But knowing how much I enjoy swimming - I believe I'll take it up again. One word I have decided to gouge from my lexicon for eternity is extraordinary. Extra ordinary. How is that a good thing? Maybe I don't need to stop using it entirely. This paragraph is extraordinary.

Ahh - too much thinking when you have to sand all day. My client who I've just finished with sat down with me last Saturday for a beer. He is the CEO for a fairly highbrow design firm, and as we Cheers'd he darted his eyes to engage inconspicuousity and admitted, "I come home from work and sometimes...just put on your toolbelt to swing the hammer a little."

Writing Desk

2010-08-09T19:05:00.000-07:00

The Boroughs Table update

2010-08-04T13:15:00.000-07:00

New custom project for my most loyal and best client. This dining room table will be constructed of Musical Grade Claro Walnut layed out in a patchwork formation. Each piece was individually selected from Sam Maloof's former lumber supplier for it's unique qualities. Nearly every type of grain pattern can be found within the intricacies of the top. From curl, to fiddleback, marbled grain to burl, calico colouring of greys and golds, crotch, graftline, vertical grain to flatsawn - and everything in between this will be a beautiful piece.

Assembly will be no joke - getting it to the stage you see above - rough cut only - took an entiure evening. Splined joints at every seam for the most durable possible piece. This will either rest over the bronze legs - or a composite of reclaimed fir and fly ash concrete.

Stay tuned for progress on this, a number of other commissions being produced shortly and an architectural millwork project.

suprr laaaz summrrr post

2010-07-27T19:47:00.000-07:00

Flattened!

This will be a desk for me to write at soon, and I will blog more and publish more. I promees.

Claro Walnut! From Oregon! For the exterior of matching trunks!

Slapchop

Hang that slapchop!

Port Orford Cedar! From Oregon! For matching the interior of matching trunks!

Old hutch redid!

Cedar Sculpting

2010-06-14T09:49:00.000-07:00

So after laying out, drawing up, cutting out templates - and ultimately tweaking and retweaking the design numerous times over about 2 weeks, I have taken the next step and made a 3d model from my 2d drawing.

I need to do some bondo work to fill a couple of small gouges my new 2.5 hp Porter Cable router made (thanks Nana!). And these pictures are missing the fluted - crown moulding like sections on the top which provide the leg a wider base for welding it to steel plates for stability.

However, template cutting this 3.25" thick beast on a base that is about 1.25 " wide was slightly difficult to keep stable to say the least. I had jigs and jigs for jigs and jigs for cutting those jig holding jigs. Regardless - I managed to totally obliterate a couple of huge (and expensive) router bits in the process of cutting a single leg. Sometimes I wonder if cabinet making school would make me more proficient and less of a dough head here in the shop.

If you are just reading this now and are inclined to ask, "I don't get how that is going to be a car" or "I thought this blog was about handmade $800 jeans from Japan" It's going to be a leg for a table - well two legs. Cast in bronze, and affixed to the underside of the tabletop which will make your forget about the Palestine-Israel conflict and The Climate Change debacle at first glance. And hopefully I will sell it to a man or woman who urinates down a large wall of semi-precious gems in a corner office - who is undeservedly rich and owns the genetic code for kidney beans.

If you know him/her I will probably pay off your mortgage to talk to that person.

I'm off up North Country to sleep in a tent and build a deck off a trailer for the week, check in later.

-Jefe

Good Eats!

2010-05-31T15:06:00.000-07:00

This AAAAA musical grade Claro Walnut is some of Oregon's finest. Milled from a salvaged log nearly 6 feet in diameter from Salem, Oregon - it has been aged for nearly 5 years. Free of defects, stable, with astounding color - it is now slated for a patchwork style tabletop to be approximately 43" across, 87" inches long, and 2" thick. It may also feature bronze joinery work.

The roughed out leg template will be transferred to solid wood and mocked up in that form. After some adjustments are made I will take the finished cedar leg to my bronze foundry. There we will pull a rubber investment mold, and using the lost wax technique - pull a hardened ceramic mold suitable to hold temperatures of over 2200 degrees. The cast bronze wishbone legs, once cooled, will be welded to 2 - 4 square foot flat steel plates about 5/16" thick which is inlaid and bolted into the underside of the tabletop for rigidity.

Concrete and wood composite bases in this style are also available.

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you...

2010-05-27T12:25:00.000-07:00

...Without a dope beat to step to.

Sorry for my absence - I'm feeling like I just don't care too much right now. There is so much happening in real life. I was in NYC for Design Week just a while ago. The highlight of the trip came on the second last day. I hit the F train up to East Harlem, skateboard in tow and found myself at the footsteps of the world's largest cathedral and second largest religious structure after the Vatican City, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Ding dang I thunk.

I peeped in - to find sitting somewhat lonely, a George Nakashima Altar of Peace. Bookmatched slabs of American Black Walnut compose the top of the 20 foot in diameter beast. I disregarded the no hands symbol and latched onto that bad boy for dear life. Home at last.

I closed my eyes and I could see the life of a Japanese woodworker fly in chronological visions across my field of non vision. Samurai sword sharpening, sticky potstickers, snow falling on cedars...then I felt it. My thigh was vibrating. I pulled out my phone and saw it was none other than my living hero in woodworking, Palo Samko. Palo is a Slovakian born artist who currently resides and works in his cramped studio in the Brooklyn Naval Yards. Really helping to take design to a new place of warm history and timeless vision, his forms follow the same respect for nature that Nakashima upheld, but his craftsmanship and experimentation is absolutely fucking insane.

DUMBO Hood in Brooklyn

Equal parts craftsman, sculptor, and clockmaker Palo employs materials from bronze and steel to leathers and timber, he has been written about as one of the most pre-eminent artists producing in the Americas. And if I could give you a personal recommendation which may be detrimental to my own business, I would invest in something from his studio.

So, Palo gave me a ring - and invited me down to his studio for an impromptu meeting. I skateboarded damn near 150 blocks to get to where he was at. We chatted about bike racing through Turkey and Albania, the positive psychological effects of serious injury, casting toy zephyrs in solid bronze, and finally the opportunity for myself to undertake a tentative apprenticeship position with him in 2011. My fingers are crossed so hard I think they are becoming webbed.

Salvador Dali inspired Palo Samko clock of Turned Holly, Ebony, Brass, and Blown Glass

Upon returning to BC I've decided to pursue my own work in bronze to get acquainted with the material. I've started to rough out some designs for a cast bronze table base - which I will soon take to my man Francois out in Langley. Francois and his wife, Glenys, cofounded a foundry which has been used by the likes of David Robinson and Bill Reid over the past 25+ years. I'm hoping that within the next 2 weeks I will have my sculpture finished to be cast in rubber, which will then be transferred to a ceramic casting for the bronze pour. I'm still trying to figure out which patina finish to put on it as bronze can be finished from a varying amount of colors from bright gold to worn copper and deep black. I am certainly welcoming suggestions and opinions on this.

The tabletop will be about 87" long and 43" wide. A serious doozy for serious diners - and features some truly stunning hand selected musical grade Claro Walnut from the same boutique lumber supplier who has been frequented by the likes of Domestic Furniture & Architecture, Om Anand, Sam Maloof, and many other legends in design. I rummaged through an inventory of about 3000 large pieces to come up with the final selection, over a period of about 2 months.

Needless to say, I am very excited and anxious about this endeavour. It's a large commitment of time and resources, and I would like to see ending up in a really great home with great owners. I'll keep you posted with production, as I have just received a call from UPS alerting me the shipment was at the border.

I'll also be forming the legs in a composite construction of concrete and hardwood for clients with a more modest budget, and have been receiving excellent tutelage from Stephen Pollock at Woodstone Design on the ins and outs of furniture grade concrete applications. Some of the pieces should be for sale in a new furniture and home decor boutique on 1st and Burrard by midsummer.

And finally, the boys over at Grain Surfboards sent me "Little Black Wheels" - Mick Waters film on Soulsurfing, and I was honoured to see a board produced in collaboration with Brad and Mike at Grain being surfed my favourite Earthling, Dave Rastovich. I'm hoping to get some more time in the water fairly soon, I've been dry for way too long - and my friend, Malcolm, over at the SBC Surf publication has been helping me work through some concepts for an article in the not too distant future.

And finally, Happy Birthday to my favourite seester in the whole world!

Boob alert

2010-04-29T22:40:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to William J and Sweet City Woman behind the self-aware mind machine in Room 907, for their recent acquisition of a matching pair of Portland Tea Tables! I know when I take them back for the art exhibit weekend in October that they will be raunchily defiled. And it makes me smile to do good work for such good people!

Am I Am

2010-04-28T11:14:00.000-07:00

Kids are goddamned amazing skateboarders these days. I grew up skating everyday for nearly 10 years - and not a single trick I ever stomped down with the assurance of a Persian Prince could hold a magic oil lamp to the gypsy teens at Lakai - check out the Am team vid from Lakai.

Iphone Update - The Appleton Case

2010-04-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

Quartersawn and bookmatched panels of local White Oak, stitch style joinery, glass and metal.

Classic reform - warm creativity.

Wall mounted for all of your gravitationally deceiving desires.

Revolver San Fransisco

2010-04-11T15:20:00.000-07:00

Many Thanks to Robert at Revolver boutique and art gallery in San Fransisco for getting involved with Jeff Martin Joinery and sitting down to do an interview with me. Check it out here.

The Appleton Case

2010-04-05T14:17:00.000-07:00

Bookmatched and stitched - working out the panels for an FSC certified Oak, rosewood, and glass wall-mount display case. More pictures to come once I get my glass in from Capilano.

I've just been commissioned for a journal chest/trunk as well and I'm channeling firm leather, charred cedar, patchwork claro walnut, secret drawers and brass locks...Suggestions anyone?

The Portland Tea Table

2010-03-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

Twins!

2010-03-18T18:40:00.000-07:00

Hullo Duckies!

These matching low coffee tables feature a single live edge on each piece and are made from consecutive cuts of Oregon Claro Walnut from my good friends down in Portland at Goby Walnut. The fiddleback figure and intense marbling throughout the slabs will pop when the finish is applied. The tree was salvaged from a property development project, and harvested in the unique Goby Walnut way - using minimal impact tree falling techniques and biodiesal fuelled trucks.

They rest on top of mineral streaked BC bitter cherry. These bases now await some relief cuts, handcarved lines, softened contours and fine shaping. My spokeshave and block plane are finely tuned and I can't wait to get started.

Time permitting, I will build a small semi-secret dovetailed drawer on each table - offset from center and perhaps at a peculiar angle - for all of your confidential desires and pencil stashing requirements.

Then a custom blend of mineral spirits, tung oil, and beeswax polish built up over several applications and they'll be ready to leave the shop.

I hope to have these in retail outlets for midspring - and have been talking with a local Japanese artisan sake maker about getting some furniture in his barren storefront, but if you're interested in picking up one or both - give me a shout at jeffmartinjoinery@hotmail.com

Or for more solid wood furniture handcrafted from responsibly harvested musical grade timbers check out my website at www.jeffmartinjoinery.c om

Thanks!

I'm thinking South

2010-03-17T14:54:00.001-07:00

A surf trip looms off in the distance, but for now I'll point my nose to the zenith and count down from about 4 million.

The exchange between shaper and surfer is fascinating. Making those calibrated points of hydrodynamic science, material knowledge, wave selection, and body control meet up is endlessly fantastic to watch.

Tyler Warren and some of the greats - riding some strange craft.

The MODLINE Mag does a spotlight on Jeff Martin Joinery

2010-03-12T09:48:00.000-08:00

photo: Alex Yelizarov

Many Thanks to Amanda Panes and Alex Yelizarov at the Modline magazine for their featurette on my work and website. Take a gander.

What would you do?

2010-03-11T13:27:00.000-08:00

BIRTHRIGHT from Sean Mullens on Vimeo.

What do you do?

This is an arresting look at what a lot of us take for granted - from our own capabilities to the gift of the ocean. I can't wait to get wet this weekend.

Test Run

2010-03-08T17:23:00.000-08:00

Follow the link to Jeff Martin Joinery and let me know what you think.

The site was built by the multi-disciplinary creative unit behind The Rogue Muse, Bryant Bell. He says there are plans in the work for an about section, a Monty Python Foot-esque Forearm with a python grip on a Japanese Saw dropping into the frame, some video perhaps, an interactive ordering and building function that allows the user to experiment between a selection of bases and tabletop slabs in the inventory, as well as a consistent Tumblr blog gone done right in der.

I must say I am very happy with the layout and aesthetics thus far, many kudos to Bry for his poetic take on my work.

Cheers!

The Leather Apron Society c. 1727

2010-03-01T14:32:00.000-08:00

Benjamin Franklin organized the Junto, an informal networking club, in the first half of the 18th century. The small group of men - entrepreneurs, inventors, and scientists - would meet each Friday night to quaff ale and discuss business of the week.

The group consisted of working class business owners and operators - from cabinetmakers to glaziers and butchers, shoemakers and cobblers - who were also accomplished mathematicians, astrologers, and physicists.

Being in the time when all of the sciences required a high level of skill in what we now commonly refer to as "the arts" - scientists blew glass and welded and created their own tools, biologists were painters of the highest ilk. These were unsung men of renaissance who invested their money into public libraries and community development.

Later they changed their name to the Leather Apron Society - in respect to the trades that kept economy afloat.

These questions were posed to the members at the beginning of each meeting:

Have you met with any thing in the author you last read, remarkable, or suitable to be communicated to the Junto? particularly in history, poetry, moraility, physics, travels, mechanic arts, or other parts of knowledge?
What new story have you lately heard agreeable for telling in conversation?
Hath any citizen in your knowledge failed in his business lately, and what have you heard of the cause?
Have you lately heard of any citizen’s thriving well, and by what means?
Have you lately heard how any present rich man, here or elsewhere, got his estate?
Do you know of any fellow citizen, who has lately done a worthy action, deserving praise and imitation? or who has committed an error proper for us to be warned against and avoid?
What unhappy effects of intemperance have you lately observed or heard? of imprudence? of passion? or of any other vice or folly?
What happy effects of temperance? of prudence? of moderation? or of any other virtue?
Have you or any of your acquaintance been lately sick or wounded? If so, what remedies were used, and what were their effects?
Who do you know that are shortly going [on] voyages or journeys, if one should have occasion to send by them?
Do you think of any thing at present, in which the Junto may be serviceable to mankind? to their country, to their friends, or to themselves?
Hath any deserving stranger arrived in town since last meeting, that you heard of? and what have you heard or observed of his character or merits? and whether think you, it lies in the power of the Junto to oblige him, or encourage him as he deserves?
Do you know of any deserving young beginner lately set up, whom it lies in the power of the Junto any way to encourage?
Have you lately observed any defect in the laws, of which it would be proper to move the legislature an amendment? Or do you know of any beneficial law that is wanting?
Have you lately observed any encroachment on the just liberties of the people?
Hath any body attacked your reputation lately? and what can the Junto do towards securing it?
Is there any man whose friendship you want, and which the Junto, or any of them, can procure for you?
Have you lately heard any member’s character attacked, and how have you defended it?
Hath any man injured you, from whom it is in the power of the Junto to procure redress?
In what manner can the Junto, or any of them, assist you in any of your honourable designs?
Have you any weighty affair in hand, in which you think the advice of the Junto may be of service?
What benefits have you lately received from any man not present?
Is there any difficulty in matters of opinion, of justice, and injustice, which you would gladly have discussed at this time?
Do you see any thing amiss in the present customs or proceedings of the Junto, which might be amended?

So, Here's To our modern day Juntos which still amass around the world. I've recently been invited into one called the Lion's Lair which focuses on business development for young entrepreneurs based in Vancouver.

Here's To the proliferation of new wave Juntos such as the TED talks which preserve the ideals of Socratic centric societies - and look to the future in global development.

And Here's To the friendships and circles where nothing is off the table, everything still feels like discovery, and the beer is always ice cold.

Cheers

Grain Surfboards

2010-02-15T15:17:00.000-08:00

Grain from We Are Always Here on Vimeo.

An Uncommon Workplace

2010-02-15T11:17:00.000-08:00

It starts as genetic material from a forest - fabric of our environment,
Juglans Hindsii - California Claro Walnut.
It was limbed,
The English genesis grafted to form a new crown.
Harvested of its fruit,
And with age - developing rot and windshake.
It now stands denuded - in part with me,
Resting and warping in its new climate.

Soon I will begin to work it,
February is traditionally considered the finest month for woodworking.

I still don't know why.

But I will allow my hungry planes to imbibe.

"I came to understand design as a way to express subtle, poetic or simple ideas while being grounded by the sincerity and integrity of craftsmanship and utility." - Eric Manigian

Nostalgic for Whistler Backcountry

2010-02-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

"Tracking Eero" Terje & Jake BC Action Webisode from OAKLEY on Vimeo.

Somewhere in Garibaldi, Terje Haakonsen and Jake Blauvelt are having way more fun than us, figuring out different ways to play with the features of a mountain.

Bluebird

2010-01-26T22:58:00.000-08:00

Just returned from an Emily Carr Art+Design Movie Premiere.

The work from Cameron McKague (vitaedesigns.ca) and Jennifer Griffiths was quite well done.

A visual accompaniement to a portion of Charles Bukowski's "Bluebird"

Bluebird from Cameron McKague on Vimeo.

The Olympic Shames

2010-01-23T19:19:00.000-08:00

How to spell “Fiasco” in the face of adversity.

F – John Furlong’s immature and delusional press conference this week saying that he hoped the games were “pristine and beautiful and magic and perfect”. OK Cinderella, we’ll make sure there are singing candelabras and a Beastly mutant in a dungeon who wears human clothes and lives through torture solely to declare his love for you as well.

Also could be Foresight – as in how much of this shitstorm on the Vancouver people, economy, and wildlife was foreseeable.

Also could be Fascist State – as in how many homeless people have you now seen arrested for merely being on the street? Where do they take them? How many homes have been entered by police without warning, to remove anti-Olympic signage?How come our right to protest has been taken away? Do we even care for civil liberties anymore? Oh fuck it, here comes Quatchi!

I – Intrawest, Goodbye! Well, just when we thought the Games couldn’t possibly face anymore disruption, Intrawest is going up on Ebay. The company directors are pulling chute and basically selling Whistler. Creekside was once a gravel parking lot, and now it’s a cookie cutter village of unremarkable Multinationals with little creative or relative cultural value. I wonder if this model, which is showing signs of weakness globally, is going to be a systemic problem for the regrowth of Whistler as a sustainable community? Oh fuck it, I see Premier Campbell!

Also could be I Wish That I Knew What I Know Now, When I Was Younger, as in that famous Rod Stewart Line from “Ooh La La” which may haunt British Columbians for some years to come.

Also could be Inflation? What’s that? Well young reader. What happens when you value something at much more than it’s worth? That’s right little Billy, economic collapse. Where is my job from in this so called boom? Why do I, a University grad – highly intelligent and well educated, work for an Ontario based company while living in Vancouver? How come housing prices are dropping? How come we are now reading in the news that Vancouverites will be footing this multibillion dollar bill for years to come? I thought the Olympics were good. Right? Torino, Nagano? Aren’t these the cities the epitome of economic powerhouses? What do you mean the film “Crackheads Gone Wild” was filmed largely in Atlanta?

A – Economic Atrophy for the entire nation. We in BC have been slightly insulated from total economic shutdown that has wiped over a large mass of North America. But guess what? The bill is in the mail, and there is interest. What? You thought there would be a true surge of foreign investment following these games? I’m sorry, longevity and realism are obviously words you should Google. All of the major sponsors of the Games are “preparing” (read: downsizing) to lose billions of dollars over the next month. I recommend if you don’t have a good, real job (of importance in the future) right now you either look at education once more, or move to Haiti and be of some use.

S – Stephen Harper Occupation, who is coming to town? Shit, we have to hang out with this beat-rag for 2 weeks? Thanks bud, for making this naughty sleepover just a hair too monotheistic and androgynous for my tastebuds.

C – Climate Change is a real fucker. But guess what? VANOC is now “using wood and straw, basically, to replace snow.” According to Cathy Priestner-Allinger, VP of VANOC’s sports and games operations. These doeheads are now trucking in the white stomping powder and “helicopters will soon be deployed” to bring snow from ice rinks to the local mountains. I’m sure that will do a lot to combat the broader problem.

Also could be Cypress Calamity – as in why couldn’t VANOC figure out that Cypress, the mountain with the highest temperatures, greatest lack of snow, worst visibility, and shittiest halfpipe in all of British Columbia should perhaps not host the snowboarding halfpipe events?

Also could be Coke Bottle Disgrace – Hmm, how should we bastardize culture further than raping, starving, segregating, and slaughtering the Haida nation? Oh, let’s pay them a few thousand bucks to carve coke bottle totem poles out of virgin rainforest Western Red Cedar to occupy streetcorners in downtown Vancouver. Hmm, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think those carvings are quite finished – rev up my fucking Husqvarna.

O – Get me OFF of this damned colony, I’d stay to protest, but I’ve been voicing my opinion for the past few years on the subjects of displacement and corruption. The Canadian Government, IOC, and VANOC have taken our dollars, spent them four times over, and are now handing the bill back to us. This isn’t a sour taste in my mouth. It tastes like puke. And it’s the bile and waste entrenched in the archaic forms of democracy and capitalist systems which we embrace in Canada. Those of which are so very wrought with poor decision and lack of creative thinking. Sorry Canada, but you have one less fan at this year’s Olympic Games.

Juglans Hindsii

2010-01-21T18:21:00.000-08:00

Californian Claro Walnut grows up to 60 feet tall with a crown of branches that can easily extend and sweep shadows over its grasses that are longer than the tree is tall. It's lumber produced from harvesting the gorgeous timber is accepted globally as one of the most beautiful that are commercially available.

And unfortunately, this too has led to the thinning of it's naturally occurring population. It also has super delicious nuts dangling from those long chocolate bows. Erp.

Unfortunately, some of our most revered woodworkers in the furniture building industry, both today and in recent history (yes, probably the head honchos you think of now) are culprits of dissemniating the information that Claro Walnut - California Gold, is "naturally sustainable".

This is not quite the case.

I would make sure your furniture builder has urban harvested lumber, or that the claro walnut he claims is "naturally sustainable" has a significant amount of rot in it, or the presence of a conspicuously coloured part of the slab which is different than the majority.

This is called a Graft line, and visually displays how it was used as a rootstock for English Walnut to grow from, to harvest walnuts. A telltale sign it came from an orchard - and not from the forests.

I just picked some up from Northern Cali my babies. My bud at walnutwoods.net has the good ish - lots of rot in their inventory (although I try to avoid the super gnarly ones) and lots of graft lines. This will soon be a low sitting dudo relaxo writing desk on a reclaimed fir base.

Hakunamatata bitches.

Help for Haitians Now

2010-01-17T16:12:00.000-08:00

Donate to www.redcross.ca now, all donations will be matched by the Federal Government.

Wake Up!

2010-01-12T21:28:00.000-08:00

When you can't shake a daze for days and days and days. You just need to talk to some red blooded Maritimers, I suppose.

My heart is with my friends at this time.

Rethinking Materials: Rosewoods

2009-12-17T22:52:00.000-08:00

On a recent lumber trip to a well known craft woods distributor in Chilliwack, I was appalled to see a stack of what was advertised as Brazilian Rosewood for sale. Now, I wouldn't be able to tell you for sure if it was or wasn't Brazilian Rosewood, but it looked just like what I had seen pictures of. And there's good reason for me not to know, it's banned from being shipped outside of Brazil, or crossing any borders internationally at all. Brazilian Rosewood, Dalbergia nigra, was banned nearly 30 years ago and is classified in the 3rd appendix of the CITES list of endangered species.

I picked up the three pound piece with the $1200 price tag and asked where he acquired it. The young guy behind the desk grinned at me and said a man chopped up some of his old furniture and sold it to the lumber dealers. I inspected the wood in my hand with a suspicious eye. Bug holes boring through the surface, checking at each end, dry rot on one corner, smooth on one side with no finish, saw marks on the bottom. More likely than not this was not from a piece of finished furniture. This would most likely have been smuggled illegally - and perhaps harvested illegally as well.

This wood was so heavily and strong fistedly wrought from the Earth not long ago that vast swaths of the Amazon still have not grown back, clearly visible from space. Fragile ecosystems abbhorently raped, tribes and civilizations enslaved or displaced and abandoned. The great destruction of the Amazon conducted initially, and continued today, in search of this fine wood. The results of deforestation are widespread into surrounding ecosystems as well, air quality is reduced and watersheds erode contaminating fresh and saltwater systems.

And don't we care? The ideal and the strong minded and the gracious young woodworkers? Us who find meaning and beauty and divinity in the work of nature? Those of us who have the gaul to scratch things like "The beauty in nature is the standard for which all other art is compared" onto the bottoms of our trinkets, boxes, and chairs? Those of us who love wood so undoubtedly?

Well, not really apparently. In fact, if you read the back issues of Fine Woodworking, in those columns where people write in and rhetorically debate the editors and each other, the majority of woodworkers quite firmly opposed such thinking until about 2001. That's pretty fucking late in the game.

I just finished reading the research essay, "The Madagascar Rosewood Massacre" by Derek Schuurman and Porter P. Lowry II. And it made me truly embarrassed of our trade.

Hundreds of millions of dollars of the lipstick red pastel colours of the hardwood leave the country illegally every year. They are stripped off this island, right out of nature reserves, UNESCO World Heritage Sites, and unmapped ecosystems without a thought. Up to 49 variations of this species exist here, or so the government once believed - but no one is sure anymore - they have lost too much.

We must understand that this island is the oldest island on our planet, and with that perhaps the most diverse - with species like the lemur existing only here. But these ecosystems, discovered and yet unfound are being torn down for luxury inlay work.

Recently I purchased some of my own. It is stunning. Madagascar Rosewood has grown quickly in the past decades as a replacement for Brazilian Rosewood. I payed a premium for stormfall lumber believing it to be a superior choice, ecologically:

"Almost annually the Sava region in Madagascar is struck by violent tropical storms. When Cyclone Hudah left 50,000 people homeless in April of 2000, the inevitable result was a marked increase in slash and burn agriculuture, hunting for protected wildlife and food, and intensive illegal harvesting of precious hardwoods."

I guess not. The article goes on in further detail highlighting the government's stated objective of drawing in ecotourism, based on a countrywide model similar to Costa Rica. Unfortunately, the lumber distributors in China place huge pressure on their employees, working at slave wages, to continually find new territory to exploit - and sooner than later there will not be enough flaura or fauna to interact with in a non-extractive manner.

But in March of this past year, one of the greatest protected parklands in Madagascar was shut down in a time of political unrest. The work became too dangerous in the park for the rangers as illegal poaching and logging increased to near riot levels. According to the park managers and watchdog groups, the area affected and surrounding towns operated without lawlessly, plundering the forest for months as wealthy lumber distributors moved to the area from China and directed the local mafia. This coincided with the growing sale and export of bushmeat (ape, gorilla, bonobo, chimpanzee, and orangutan) throughout the country.

But the right actions are taking place. When the 1900 Lacey Act (US) was amended in May of 2008 to include the prevention of illegal logging practices, some household names were quickly brought under the spotlight. Gibson Guitars, as recently as 1 month ago, had their factory in Nashville raided by the feds for using illegally harvested Madagascar Rosewood. Gibson offers FSC certified products, but like many other companies - has come under investigation based on the fact that illegally harvested woods were being sold to the end consumer marketed as green products.

And if all of the documentaries our generation watches teach us anything, it's that these atrocities are usually industry standards.

The other main Rosewood originally from Madagascar is Palissandre. Which was exported in both timber and seed form to Brazil. Once grown it was sold back to France as Palissandre del Rio, a form of what we now know as Brazilian Rosewood.

With a sweaty brow and trembling fingers, a luthier I know stammered, "Buy it!" when I told him of the Brazilian Rosewood in Chilliwack. And it's this chosen ignorance we are riddled with today that will put the fate of species like the orangutan and forests from Borneo to Indonesia and the Amazon on the brink of collapse.

And it largely depends on what we, as woodworkers and homebuilders, decide to produce with.

Dalbergia nigra - Brazilian Rosewood, is the only Rosewood to make that CITES list. Consumers on every level of the chain need to know that all rosewood product sales are an anarchic disruption to valuable ecosystems and cultures, and amount to billions of dollars of irreversible damage every year on a global level. Perhaps much more, it is not quantifiable. If you want it, demand FSC certified products. And remember that plantation grown rosewoods are from slash and burn fields that provide bureaucratic protection for the lumber distributors to harvest those same species from the surrounding virgin forests in the area where they have set up such illegitimate plantations.

Archetype Box

2009-12-16T19:25:00.001-08:00

What started off as an unmotivated practice in building a bentcorner Haida style box quickly became something very fresh for me. Not that that sort of work isn't fresh, and I certainly enjoy the work of the people who we stole this land from - but Haida art is hardwired into Vancouver's commercio-cultural landscape. And it makes me want to barf.

I usually work in sculptural and natural forms, so grounding myself in strong geometric patterns - well, I was surprised with the results. I was initially hesitant because I believed this would mute the natural beauty of the wood. Careful wood selection, material lay out, and proportions allow the materials to shine.

The box is named the Archetype because although it started as a project derived from an existing form, it became an entirely new mould. The interior compartments are organized around a bookmatched panel of East Indian Rosewood. Each compartment rests and is supported by the next in a concentric circle. I borrowed this concept from the ancient mandalas used in meditation within the Japanese, Indian, and Tibetan cultures.

The archetype box is designed to hold all treasures - from tea to spices to jewelry and beyond - all treasures that help you feel whole. It is built from instrument grades Western Red Cedar, East Indian Rosewood, and Black Walnut.

Ooops - New Edition - The Orchard Table

2009-12-14T17:15:00.001-08:00

I forgot to mention it, but we have a new edition in our home. It's been a slow process, and Steph has been very supportive of it - but I'm furnishing our place piece by piece.

This is a valuable process to me, as I can really play with forms that I've been dreaming of, and when completed, we can truly get to know the pieces - what it means and feels like to live with them. I can admit, some of the pieces are unfit to add to my catalog for sale. Either too expensive to produce, or simply not a good fit aesthetically as a prototype - but for the large part they have all made huge impacts on our day to day lives at home. Designing your own furniture - exactly as you need it, is a wonderful luxury.

And we have endured a little so far. This dining room and single chair just came in - after about 6 months of eating while standing/sitting on the floor. It actually feels totally foreign to be dining at a surface at dining table height, and we can only do it one at a time so far, but nonetheless, it is a stunning piece. The tabletop is constructed of Ontario grown Black Cherry - joined with Swiss Pear ari kata keys. It rests on a base of Ontario Black Walnut and Washington Plum.

Fall in a glimpse

2009-11-30T21:46:00.000-08:00

It was a beautiful autumn, and despite some poor weather - we had a lot of smiles. Have some fun this December my duckies. It's gun be a cold wan.

Eastside Culture Crawl

2009-11-29T18:34:00.000-08:00

Big thanks to all of those wet souls who stalked the soggy streets of East Vancouver last weekend. The culture crawl, as always, was a fun event and provided us with the chance to get to know how our creative culture is blooming in Vancouver.

An even bigger thanks out to everyone who travelled in to see my exhibit in the Beatty Street Wood Co-op. All the compliments certainly did wonders for my ego. I'm not so sure that I really needed it, but thanks regardless. Sorry I don't have a picture of my entire set-up, but Victor Stapelberg at visualsenses.com was kind enough to come in and shoot & lend me this one. Cheers Victor.

Hopefully next year I'll be able to sell something, but I guess that would require me to put price tags on pieces - and be ready to say goodbye to the woodworking that currently makes our apartment a home.

Thanks again,
Jeff

DRIFT article

2009-11-26T09:59:00.000-08:00

Big Thanks and Tremendous Gratitude to the Kelly family for their inspirational support of Jordan, their son. His story, and the way it is being continued is absolutely amazing.

And on that note, a huge congratulations to Jordan's cousin, Catherine, for buying the winning ticket of the surfboard up for raffle.

More and more and more appreciation out to everyone who supported and made up this round of funding to the Jordan Kelly Surf School Fund through STOKED mentorship.

And a huge thanks to Grain Surfboards for their ongoing work with this program. Head over to DRIFT surfing to read an article on the event.


http://driftsurfing.com/features/2009/jordan_kelley/p1.html

The story of a Board

2009-11-08T18:36:00.000-08:00

Just a reminder to everyone that the draw for the custom Grain Surfboards NakaWaka fish I built will be happening this week. So, last chance to get a couple tickets to win the board with all proceeds going into the STOKED mentorship program in Jordan's honour.

Thanks for your participation and good luck.

Sincerely,
Jefe

100 Things to Love

2009-10-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

100.) Nutrition

99.) Claro Walnut

98.) The Circassian Forest

97.) Cast Bronze

96.) 70 year old, 30 inch thick polish butcher block tables

95.) My Porter Airlines stewardess; her spiked thigh high leather boots, waffling upturned trenchcoat collar, precociously tilted hat, and smeared red lipstick as she poured me a complimentary tallboy of Steamwhistle.

94.) The concept of Yoga

93.) Ultralight Aircraft and what they represent to the modern man, if anything

92.) Toronto

91.) Natalie & Emma

90.) Tri Plane Hulls

89.) Arboriculture

88.) Coldwater Reefbreaks at Sun-up

87.) Secret Drawers

86.) Mischief

85.) Animalia Hardware

84.) Nymphomania Lifestyle

83.) Werewolf Delusions

82.) My Laugh

81.) Don’s Laugh

80.) My Mom’s Laugh

79.) My Girlfriend’s Laugh

78.) Moonlit Elk Crossings

77.) A big, juicy dump

76.) Liberating trapped farts

75.) Watching a cold, dead turkey have its guts fisted out

74.) 22s in ma shoes

73.) Fresh bed sheets

72.) “First of the Month” as performed by Bone, Thugz & Harmony

71.) The manic escalation of unyielding pandemonium

70.) Dirty Projectors – Stillness is the Move

69.) The Orchards

68.) The pecky greens, solid whites, creamy pinks, dank purples, and ephemeral yellows of fruitwoods

67.) The truly exhibition grade qualities of marble and fiddleback grain in well-bookmatched tonewoods

66.) Andrew Poynter @ A&M Specialty Woods in Cambridge, Ontario

65.) Mike and Brad @ Grain Surfboards in York, Maine

64.) The Redwoods

63.) The Promise of 180 Degrees South

62.) The Freshness of a New Project

61.) Procrasturbation

60.) Christopher, Robyn

59.) John and Kai Thompson’s workshop on the Island

58.) Our ability to create and enjoy Music

57.) Our capacity for Happiness

56.) Our passion for Crafstmanship

55.) When a friend really fucking gets you

54.) The 10’ Waterlog

53.) Roasted Corn, Oyster Mushrooms, Chorizo Sausage, Goat Cheese, Rosemary, Oregano, Red Chili Flakes, and S&P Pizza.

52.) Cod Liver Oil

51.) Half Days

50.) October Camping

49.) Not having to meet a bear in his own territory

48.) Meeting a bear in his own territory

47.) Coffin Factory sung by The Mumlers

46.) Trestle Tables

45.) “Anybody want a peanut?”

44.) Augustin Lesage paintings

43.) Palapas

42.) Open Shelves as opposed to Cabinets

41.) British Columbia

40.) The Fraser Valley

39.) The trade of a Luthier – builders of the world’s instruments

38.) Palo Samko

37.) Pulled Pork Poutine

36.) Midday weekend breaks from the workshop to have a cold beer and brisk stroll

35.) The aroma of freshly sawn black cherry

34.) Applewood smoked cheddar

33.) Smelling like a campfire

32.) My girlfriend’s cooking

31.) My twin sister

30.) Pete’s tent platform and canoe on a lake full of mansions and mastercrafts

29.) Pacifica madrona

28.) Non extractive utility of natural resources

27.) Lykke Li

26.) George, Washington

25.) The indescribable concepts inherent to Wabi Sabi

24.) Tenurobu Fujimori

23.) Juicy Pears

22.) Iron and Wood

21.) The hour of gloaming

20.) Egyptian Goggles

19.) A quiet alarm clock

18.) Waking up without an alarm clock

17.) The Eastside Culture Crawl

16.) The Beatty Street Wood Co-op

15.) Corey Arnold Human Animals Photo Essay

14.) Mondays at a job you love

13.) Weekend breaks from a job you love

12.) Rhode Island School of Design

11.) The many accents of Ross Ferguson and Rob McLoughlin

10.) “You the Best” by Drake – sung by my girlfriend

9.) Peeing, showering and brushing your teeth at the same time

8.) Workboots

7.) Smiling girls

6.) The puppy, Luna, at my current jobsite and her bewildered glee when she sees me

5.) Friends doing good things

4.) 6am kettle calls

3.) Possibility

2.) My childhood, or what I remember from it

1.) Treasure

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-10-10T08:58:00.000-07:00

I've always admired Dave Rastovich's endeavors. From his heavy involvement and leadership with the anti-whaling campaign around the world - to his experimental approach to surfing all sorts of crafts, Dave is someone who has continually brought a positive energy and influence to the Oceans. Undoubtedly he is one of the top few surfers to watch in the world, whether he is pushing the uppermost boundaries of progressive shapes or taking faded royal Hawaiian finless relics and surfing them at bohemoths like Waimea and Sunset. When I had an article published in the Surfers Path nearly 2 years ago, I had the honour of sharing space in surf history with Nick LaVecchia, Gerry Lopez, and Rasta to name a few. As humble as I wish I could be, I can't help but feel pride to share space in a small part of history, alongside the people I look up to.

Thanks for giving her a whirl, Dave.

Tickets for the 5'4 NakaWaka up at the STOKED Mentoring site

Jordan Kelly Surf School Fund

2009-09-29T20:51:00.001-07:00

Now Online

Raffle Tickets = $10 a piece. Bust out those Paypal accounts and try to win a new whip yall.

Handcrafted hollow wooden surfboard made of Atlantic White Cedar and Black Walnut Burl. 5'4" Steve Lis inspired Fish. Retails normally for $2000.

Dave Rastovich recently surfed this and it may be featured in the upcoming film, Little Black Wheels.

All proceeds are going to poverty stricken youth through the STOKED mentorship program in the states - so these young fellas can learn to shape surfboards and skateboards of their own.

Continue to support Jordan`s dream!

Portfolio Work

2009-09-20T17:55:00.000-07:00

Lens Jockey, Bryant Bell is helping to assemble and disseminate my portfolio to the masses - a brief preview of his work covering my work...

Bry and I have had the pleasure of working with each other for a while now. My words have provided ample footing for his photographs and vioce versa in a number of publishings. But more importantly, Bryant was my first client - the first person to commission work from me.

So it's a pleasure to continue to produce furniture for Mr. Bell, and to be able to provide him a certain sense of comfort as he has for me.

Cheers Bry.

http://http://www.aspectfilms.ca//

http://bryantbellphoto.blogspot.com/

Inauguration of a New Whip

2009-09-08T15:28:00.000-07:00

Summer surf trips are a queer endeavor on this coast. Warmth of sun on skin, burn in the eyes, enshrouded by steam bleeding upwardly from a black wetsuit half buried in stinking sea can do strange things to a man's course. Small waves pass by and by and by as he sits still in a current on his shortboard - waiting for that giant set - the first of the fall season to come chundering down the Strait.

A brain can boil you know, despite the thermoregulatory characteristics of Northern seas to give him cool cause for reflection. It is recommended at all costs to leave the short foam ones at home and set a long board to the ocean. I hope we haven't let the summer pass us by. I hope we have kept fit, paddled, and surfed as many small tidal surges of respite as possible. Because madness lurks closely to those who idle.

Languishing in tents nursing bad hangovers - missing teeth and fists stinking; Or fits of psylosibic psychosis in Ucluelian prison cells cannot remedy your baser desire to find connection in the waters. So swim man. I hope you have paddled with intent. I hope you have surfed with intuition on craft unfamiliar to your well rehearsed feet.

I hope they have been perched fore and aft, all walks of cross stepping subtelties between and beneath. I hope they have clenched and turned to bloodless grey - in the grave ectasy and expectation of those few spectacular moments on a wave when it is about to throw overtop of you.

Your rail deeply set in the steep face, traversing at speed. It grows steeper yet. Your crouch hovers even lower, a back knee drops forward, and you slowly reach for the rail of your board. Whisps of wave begin to fall off and blow up and backward in the upper corner of your view. It is releasing. And it is gaining on you. A hand drops behind and above into the immaculate crescent. You further decrease your speed with the simplicity of running your fingers through the water, like a kid in the pool, pretending his hand is a speed boat. The wave pitches and encloses. Perhaps, just your head. Perhaps your entire fucking being. But no sooner than your variable enclosure do you push through again. Pointedly brief. But for the summer surfer - one that counts and whose memory will put a smile on your face for weeks to come.

It is the sign of a changing swell pattern when the double overhead sets begin to roll in, washing heavily against the indicator reef 2 kilometers offshore. An autumnal offering. Torrential rains, a more conspicuous presence of bears - collecting food nocturnally, joining you, unwelcome, on lonesome midnight walks up the coast - smelling and snarling and moving closer on haunched claws, gristle, and a hunger you nor I have ever known. Local heavies join the line up. Danger and adventure surely await us this winter.

So I hope you had fun this summer. Because the cold invitation back to the woods and the waters awaits us.

Working Prototypes II

2009-08-16T15:29:00.000-07:00

Working Prototypes

2009-08-15T17:14:00.000-07:00

Sanding the hand carved throne, extra ridgy ridge for my XX chromosome-ed houseguests

Cantilever style, housed bridle joinery

Mock up, wedged through tenons and intersecting through stacked double tenons

Solid American Black Walnut body with French Walnut rails and rests, and Rosewood wedges

Bookmatched French Walnut Backrest awaiting steambending

All in all this has been an interesting process. There's not a lot of sense in reinventing the wheel with a chair. Ergonomics dictate what position is restful and comfortable for the human body. It's my task with the chair to make this form accept any body comfortably and strongly. And, if possible, to make it warm, inviting, and aesthetically appealing. I've learned a lot about furniture making through this piece because it is highly time consuming and requires a lot of material. The craftsman must be careful in lumber selection, planning out in big slabs of timber - how to be the most efficient with the lumber, and working hard and in a timely fashion - where every stroke is of deliberate and consequential action.

But he must also be completely flexible and open. Because no matter what - no project will be perfect or go exactly as planned. All of the aforementioned parameters are very real and very hard. But an honest craftsman must be transient enough to work with them rather than against.

Whether you prefer to design to the rustling scratch of graphite on paper, or to the 8000 rpm song of a saw on grain - large strokes in design must come from a trained hand and a racing mind. Invisible geeks in lumber will transform nearly every piece into a problem, at some stage in the process. 40 hours into this chair prototype, a leg split in 2. It sheered off and fell to the floor. Under microscope, Rod Robertson - who runs the woodworking coop, deduced it was probably a wind or lightning strike shake that hit the tree so forcibly as to crack it. Then as the tree grew outwards and upwards it was protected by the meat of new wood for centuries. Held together by growing cambium. It repaired itself as a system, but once that piece of timber I selected out of a slab, was thoroughly dried and shed of unnecessary weight and form, the shake finally let go.

And like anything that breaks into 2, you join it together so it can be handled as one again.

That basically surmises what you face as a craftsperson. We break down natural elements, which have reached the end of their natural life cycle, and put them back together again to serve as function and beauty. And I think that is exactly why I like it so much.

Lifted from Room 907

2009-07-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

No Is For Wimps:

"The thing is, I really like saying yes. I like new things, projects, plans, getting people together and doing something, trying something, even when it's corny or stupid. I am not good at saying no. And I do not get along with people who say no. When you die, and it really could be this afternoon, under the same bus wheels I'll stick my head if need be, you will not be happy about having said no. You will be kicking your ass about all the no's you've said. No to that opportunity, or no to that trip to Nova Scotia or no to that night out, or no to that project or no to that person who wants to be naked with you but you worry about what your friends will say."

-David Eggers

Some people want to say no and purposely keep your spirit down - you have the personal power to say yes and carry a positive attitude around with you. It is the attitude that you carry, the one of passion, instinct, and a juggernautical zest that will help you find your tribe. Thanks to author/editor/speaker, Dave Eggers and William J @ www.room907.blogspot.com for the subtle reminder to follow your fucking gut.

Chalice Table - Creative Stages

2009-07-25T11:13:00.000-07:00

In praise of shadows - the mimicry of replicating the top radius with darkness

The forceful exactitude of a tight joint

Interchangeable Wine Barrel Oak top, angled and curved black walnut legs, East Indian rosewood wedges, Madagascar rosewood (bois de rose) butterfly keys.

Angled and housed through tenon and mortise base & wedged tenon and mortise joinery top.

I'm looking to develop a line of these in different sizes - each coming with a selection of tops. The undersides of the tabletops will be equipped with a device that will allow it to hang, by french cleat, on a wall - as art. It will be an exercise in material. Charred cedar and brass, glass - to expose the unique joinery, bookmatched live edged walnut, wine barrel tops, and thin - polished concrete are a few of the ideas thus far.

"Embrace a return to the values of medieval craftguilds, where one worker controlled production from beginning to end. Honesty of expression, truth in materials, and good proportions resulting in a fine plainness are the common values." - Mira Nakashima

New Works

2009-07-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

Hullo Duckies

2 Weeks have gone by that I have been able to absolve myself of monetary obligation, and have waded hip deep into the waters of self employment in the woodshop. The water is cold and crisp - but refreshing and I feel like I'm on the brink of being able to jump into the deep end soon.

One replica piece - resized and proportioned is complete. It is a coffee table version of George Nakashima's Conoid Table. His work reaches people on a level which is difficult to surmise in words - but the Conoid Table's leg system exudes a crude, structural simplicity and strength which compliments it's waverly and freeform feathered walnut top.

I knocked the size down from dining room table size for a couple of reasons. The main being that I went through one of Nakashima's original lumber suppliers over at Hearne Hardwoods in Pennsylvania to pick up a piece that concievably Nakashima would have worked on himself. This proved quite expensive and limited my options. Additionally - I selected a wood for the base that due to overlogging and rarity, is next to impossible to get in forms that are sustainably harvested. But my man Andrew over at A&M Wood Products in Ontario had a private reserve that hit the market and sold out like Radiohead Tickets. Luckily I secured approximately 24 boardfeet of the 2x4 plantation grown East Indian Rosewood - half of which I devoted to this project and half of which to the next.

It was Nakashima himself, an MIT and Harvard trained architect, who praised the riddance of drafting boards from furniture design in order to create at the hum of a sawblade at 8000 rpm. It is in this same notion in which my second project was designed. Frustration at the drawing board led me astray from being able to physically manipulate and work with the material in human proportions.

The side table/wine cabinet is named Lyric - as to suggest our baser need to create and a general and dishonest conviction that we cannot. I got involved in woodworking after a feeling of dread struck thunder in my marrow as I cleared brush, cedar, hemlock, and birch in rural Quebec. Baby trees, and great arbors fell at my feet for larger cottages to be constructed. In my canoe I loaded up what I could salvage and returned to my place to build something of beauty out of the rotted groves. At the whir of a sawblade and thudding beat of mallet on chisel butt I could make my handwork sing.

And your craft and approach will certainly be different than mine - even if you feel an inability to create. Our makeup - greater than the powers of hereditary traits, greater than nurture - has given us a seperate brain - a hemisphere of our central nervous system, 4 pounds of highly complex matter which is devoted entirely to the acts of creation. But rarely do we allow our nonlinear dreams or irreverent desires to manifest into anything of beauty. Rarely can we rise above ego. Rarely can we shed our trepidation and fear to begin this process. Rarely do we feel like we have the ability to sing. In fact, the end result will not truly sing unless we can divorce our Creation from our Self.

The Lyric Console Table is constructed of solid hardwoods and can store up to 40 bottles of wine. The bookmatched East Indian Rosewood, Black walnut top, feet, paneling, and inserts are meticulously joined together with Guatemalan Rosewood butterfly keys and splines. And finished in 5 coats of natural walnut oils and a beeswax polish.

"Muso, the unchanging formlessness behind all phenomena, which leads to a rejection of the "perfect" (the linear) in favor of an irregular, free formed beauty...True beauty is only attainable when the workman has achieved a freedom beyond his own individual ego. Yanagi advocated the surrender of self before beauty, and he believed that handwork fostered a good life." - Mira Nakashima

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasty - Lykke Li

2009-06-28T11:18:00.000-07:00

She makes me wet

"I'm Good, I'm Gone"

Non-Euclidean Logic: Being Unyielding through the Creative Process

2009-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

"As he pondered what form the building should take, he felt all the weight of architectural history bearing down on him. "Since I am an architectural historian," he thought, "My architecture should be wholly new, dissimilar to any architecture that came before.""
-Taken from an interview with Terunobu Fujimori

A good friend sang this song to me late last night.

Well, you're in your little room.
And you're working on something good.
But if it's really good,
You're gonna need a bigger room.
And when you're in the bigger room,
You might not know what to do.
You might have to think of
how you got started
sitting in your little room.
dada da daum dada da da daum da.
yada da daum dada da da daum da.
ya da da da da, na na na na na,
na na na ya na na na na na.

"Little Room" - The White Stripes, 2001

Open Invitation

2009-06-24T10:38:00.000-07:00

Slap fin buckeye.

Can your radio tune into the near South? Do your blood vessels circulate and brainwaves oscillate? I'm talking the land of lore, cabrone. The state in which the entire seabord was passed as official, un-own-able, free from privatization - motherfucking parkland from Northern tip where it tickles Washington to Southern tip where it rubs its dirty iron rich soils on California.

That's right. The seas are patrolled by swarms of Great White Sharks. The mountains and valleys and rivers provide natural divides between the rarest types of forest stands in the world - from Port Orford Cedar to Oregonian Claro Walnut to The Redwoods. Sequoia, man.

I'm talking about the rarest collisions of temperate rains, warm weathers, and divinely rich soil producing the best wines in the world - deep in the Willamette Valley. I'm talking girls who grew up in this muck have tonque rings and are terribly flexible and have wonderfully gregarious child bearing loins.

What I'm fucking talking about, duuude. Is this.

I'm talking about inner tubes and camping under groves of Walnut crowns on the side of roads in bivouac sacks. I'm talking about hiking through (only the good portions of) 400 miles of linear coastline protected by law. I'm talking about the finest wine and lumber shopping in the world. I'm talking about dune buggies and canyons. I'm talking about a modern day Huck Finn surf trip throughout Oregon - collecting lumber, fine wines, and objects of lusty desires in and amidst this.

I'm talking two weeks. I'm talking big show. I'm talking Zevon beeyotch. Send lawyers, guns and money - because I am Ahab.

This is the new Oregon Trail. And you're at the reins of this dastardly wagon.

Boomba,
Clat

Sam Maloof

2009-06-21T15:45:00.000-07:00

Furniture is a fickle business. So similar in relation to trends, social relevance, and popular culture as is fashion as an industry. There are only a select number of craftsmen who build things of lasting importance and grace. George Nakashima, James Krenov, Art Espenet Carpenter, Greene & Greene, Gustav Stickley, Wharton Esherick, and Sam Maloof are some of the honourable builders who have shaped our living spaces with thoughtful design and purpose over the past century. And few names can be added to that list with a true sense of longevity in mind.

Sam Maloof, the son of a Lebanese immigrant, died last month at the age of 93. His elegant designs and impeccable execution in claro walnuts and rosewoods has been admired and copied as a style since he first began working in his shop over 60 years ago. Working around 80 hours a week up until his death, Maloof worked without shop drawings or pencil lines. Everything was cut with the foresight of eye and mind, and the patience of his hands.

Ray Charles once felt a Maloof chair - blind hands grasping at the sensual creation. And each time after that recognition, he was able to discern which pieces were Maloof pieces under his large hands.

One of Maloof's greatest structures is his own house which he built for his late wife, Freda. In a lemon grove in Northern California Maloof pieced together a custom house, room by room, as he could afford it. Without formal training in woodworking, nor architecture, Maloof's house is a national treasure in its miraculous design, construction, and layout. Offcuts from his furniture provide the structure for which they lived.

Maloof's style and approach will undoubtedly inspire the future generations of woodworkers to come.

10.5

2009-06-01T22:23:00.001-07:00

Coding for a Genetic Diaspora

2009-05-31T11:45:00.000-07:00

The ever quickly crumbling wall between our species and the one to precede ours is spreading its rubble of intent into more and more social circles. And the debate over the science, the ability, and the capital trade of human genetic selection is as fragile as it is profound.

About 100 years ago, one monkey fell out of a tree and found some really delicious dandelions to gobble on. This poor monkey was probably eaten by a tiger, or perhaps a land shark. And Shark Erectus was king of the Sahara for a while longer. He would go on patrolling the vast tundra in a hovercraft carriage pushed by canteloupes thrown by bonded monsters of some grave description or another.

But before this furry feast occurred, that one monkey shouted out some props to his homies in branch land, professing the dopeness of dandelion. And more and more monkeys started risking their lives and families wellbeing to taste that savoury sweet petal. I doubt it was a prolific call of intent to propel into a more daring and courageous and aware being. Monkey probably just stuck his finger in his ass, pulled it out, smelled it, and fell out of the tree.

But that grizzly mistake that cost him his limbs and the nurture for his babies and his trust fund account accelerated our evolution into a different species.

Homo erectus was about and they didn't quite cut their teeth on Fiery Earth before our subgroup of family Hominidae, Homo sapiens - or Wise/Knowing Man, was tossing some gnarly spears into their caves, clubbing their children, drinking their blood, feasting on their antelope, crushing minimum 7 fermented coconut wobbly pops - and still killing it on the dancefloor. Making forceful reproduction with their woman all night long.

And now here we are. Characterized by superior intelligence, articulate speech, and erect carriage. Or a more succinct definition - plagued with addictions, unable to care for one another or our living areas at a level that, at bare minimum, causes equitable damage to protection. We are losing our competitive advantage to ourselves - for the first time in prehistory, but not in our history.

But - we have now come quite close to not only understanding the Human Genome - to understanding our genetic makeup - but we are within the hour of being able to positively affect genetic alterations in our offspring before birth. And I guess due to happenstance or co-evolution - these selections of our children will be for sale. The business of it may be a byproduct of this leap - but it bears equal importance, or perhaps more, to the projected success of baby Homo Creatus I.

This world of ours will no longer be human - and creation of life itself will be on the TSX. That last point is more of a rabblerouser for the neasayers. But human is something this planet's leading race will no longer be. They won't be worse - or a subspecies with that sort of negative intonation. They will have IQs in the 200s, they will have penises like dual truck exhausts, and chrome coloured eyeballs. They will all have the ability to be prolific authors, musicians, scientists, politicians, doctors, and educators. Or maybe all of these trades will be obsolete. Self doubt could dissapear, addiciton may vanish as the manifestation of human problems, the world may become clean again. But it would no longer be a domain in which human's may be observed.

And those, now on in their years, doubting that we will reach this hypothetical juxtaposition - I challenge you this:

Did we, homo sapiens, evolve?
Are we therefore a stage in evolution?
Do you believe that you we are the last stage in evolution?
Are you arrogant enough to believe that 3 million+ years of direct evolution will halt for you and your flatscreen TV and your Hybrid car?
Is the technology now available to modify one of the next generations?

What if the people in charge of the these creations see the high faluten potential of the next race to be better than us?

Does the planet and all of its inhabitants deserve that?

Now, what frightens me, and what makes me a highly functioning human in the most accurate of definitions is that my empathy compels me to cry out of what will happen to those who will not be able to afford this advancement. As 80% of the world cannot find clean drinking water and adequate nourishment now, this number will dramatically increase to a number closer to 100%. Our stratified wealth and access to basic human rights will now encompass genetic inequality as well. And it's evolution, and it will absolutely occur.

But in the end it may be for the better. That's what's up for debate.

What is human art worth? What is the human experience worth? What is our contribution - or will it be little more relevant than handprints on the wall of a cave? And if that what it all breaks down to - wouldn't you want one of those handprints to be yours?

Will the next species be able to survive without murder and competition? Will they be the lasting fruitful race to one day be crushed by an asteroid in some sort of divine comedy just as the last known Homo sapien falls silently into his grave with a chuckle and a cigarette - in some sort of museum in outer space?

Or is their conception born unto vanity more than good-natured intent? And does that not make their race flawed from the start?

I don't think any entity will lament the loss of our race. Nor should they. But if we do end up fading away due to Genetic Modification I should hope that very little of being Human - beyond our art - should remain. I only hope that their super-human abilities should be able to at times mimic the unintentional wail of strained vocal chords in song, our bizarre clothing that taps into the weird – Caterwauls and Cumberbundts, or to recreate the abstract disgust that manifests in the raw beauty of crafts, that they too should be able to dream things that make them wake up in fits of laughter.

And that everything else should be their's.

George, Washington

2009-05-26T17:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Gorge Amphitheatre,

Yes.

That fucking ruled.

My twin sister, stepsister, and I booked it down to Central Washington for the annual Sasquatch Music Festival. This was my first music festival ever, and certainly won't be my last.

For 4 sleepless nights I was the platelet at the edge of the severed vein of music. I gripped doggedly to the brink of a canyon and let music flood into my body. As each and every strained lyric, grinding chord, imploding bass note, and exploding drumkick entered my chest at 200 decibels I could sense the happiness that each and every other camper was feeling.

And more and more platelets grasped out to each other to absorb the impact. The beating hearts and thudding arteries of our systems - of all 25,000 of us - were beating in raw unison. I wandered from campsite to campsite meeting gorgeous, likeminded people. We drank and smoked and danced and loved. And when the campsites ran dry, and the little orange fence popped up through the tall dead grass - I stripped down naked and walked 4 miles out to a bluff. I left all behind and emerged a better person.

One of man's greatest and most astounding inventions is song, and the Gorge in George is a profound place to experience live music.

You are in high desert, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing around you for miles and miles and miles. And the wonderful people at Sasquatch Music Festival plop a series of stages and some of the most prolific songwriters of our era right out under those stars to engage your brain. Much silliness was to be had in such high and pure volumes that my cracked lips and peeling nose will continue to smile out from beneath the white raybans for weeks to come.

But for now. I need a little rest.

In duress, in happiness.
Jefe

What a night for a dance, you know I'm a dancing machine.
With a fire in my bones, and the sweet taste of kerosene.

I get lost in the night, so high I don't want to come down.
To face the loss of the good thing that I had found.

In the dark of the night, I can hear you calling my name.
With the hardest of hearts, I still feel full of pain.

So I drink and I smoke, And I ask if you're ever around.
Even though it was me who drove us right in the ground.

See the time we shared, it was precious to me.
But all the while I was dreaming of revelry.

I wanna run baby run, like a stream down a mountainside.
With the wind at my back, I don't ever even bat an eye.

Just know it was you all along, who had a hold of my heart.
But the demon and me were the best of friends from the start.

So the time we shared, it was precious to me.
All the while I was dreaming of revelry.

Dreaming of revelry.

And I told myself, "Boy away you go."
It rained so hard that it felt like snow,
Everything came tumbling down on me.

In the back of the woods, in the dark of night.
The palest of the old moonlight - everything just felt so incomplete.

Dreaming of revelry.

Kings of Leon - Revelry

Built for Speed

2009-04-29T17:53:00.001-07:00

Thanks to Mike LaVecchia and Brad Anderson at Grain for their glass work and for getting me to the East Coast to work on this. Thanks to Caitlyn, Bill, and Jordan's Mum. Thank you Jordan for the inspiration.

The entire concept behind the board is to get kids who can't otherwise afford woodworking and craftsmanship education into a Grain Surfboards workshop to build hollow wooden boards with handtools.

Much apprecation as well to Cordurouy Surf Shop in Portland, ME for their support.

Board will be up for raffle shortly, with tickets available online. Other prizes include original artwork by Andy Davis and framed photos from award winning photographer, Bryant Bell. All proceeds raised by the board will go to the Jordan Kelly Memorial Surf School Fund.

Thomas Campbell in Maine

2009-04-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

"If you're in the area this week, be sure to head to Cordorouy Surf Boutique Thursday for the premiere of Thomas Campbell's The Present.

Grain will be there with boards to check out and products to raffle. This includes a new HomeGrown Waka 5′4″ built by our friend Jeff Martin. The board will be on display for the evening, but will eventually be raffled off with the proceeds going to the Jordan Kelly Surf School Fund.

Hope to see you there, should be a great night!"

(www.grainsurfboards.com)

-A little late but cool regardless

Gettin Sculptural

2009-04-18T01:47:00.001-07:00

Third Coat
Final Coat
Scoop

Roughly Hexagonal - Children's stool seet

Concept Table

2009-04-15T00:49:00.000-07:00

The legs were designed to project on an angle of 10.5 degrees in all four directions. It is the same angle I use to saw my butterfly keys and the same at which I canted all of the bracing underneath the table for optimal shoulder strength and grain direction for splayed legs.

Essentially the concept was to create a coffee table of somewhat thin luthier grade locally salvaged maple, bookmatched and held together with exposed joinery. The butterfly keys represent strength and unity in a very utilitarian way - but due to their simplicity and elegant wood selection, become unto themselves, truly major elements in the design. These particular keys are East Indian Rosewood and Musical grade Claro Walnut.

It is this fact that I designed the legs to visually represent the bottom halves of 4 butterfly keys coming down from the underside of the table to the ground - as a stable leg system viewable from all 4 sides of the table.

The bracing and legs are done in a Japanese temple style of joinery of reclaimed Chilean Redwood. And the entire project will be finished with 3-4 more coats of a custom blend of natural oils, polyurethane, and mineral spirits - and buffed to a high gloss sheen with museum curators wax.

Fragrant Timbers

2009-04-10T10:13:00.000-07:00

One chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla coloured Neopolitan Maple Board - use indetermined as of yet; eight purple, gold, brown and black East Indian Rosewood Boards - for shaker style trestle legs on a small series of coffee tables of domestic woods; two vibrant auburn and copper coloured Guatemalan Rosewood Chunks (Cocobolo) and two smaller red and blue streaked Madagascar Rosewood blocks (Bois de Rose) for fine joinery and inlay work. All rough dimensional, unsanded, and sealed in wax for freshness.

"All art that rises above competence insists upon the irreducibility of its subjects, its materials and its finished works. It makes things that are inherently valuable in themselves and are not interchangeable with other things. To a merely competent carpenter, one sound board may be pretty much the same as another. But to a fine carpenter or cabinetmaker, every board is unique. The better artist a woodworker becomes, the more aware he or she becomes of the individuality of boards and of the differences between them. The increase of art accounts for the increase of perception."

from "Life is a Miracle: An Essay Against Modern Superstition" by Wendell Berry

Bois de Rose

2009-04-04T00:42:00.000-07:00

An order of East Indian, Madagascar, and Guatemalan rosewood is en route to the Beatty Street Wood Coop. I'll show you that later, but this is a famous photo of a cabinetmaker's toolchest, I cannot remember who. But over the years - I suppose since a lifechanging accident - I have taken a look at the world in a very different light.

It's the people who build our physical domain upon the Earth and in harmony within it's sphere that I have a particular interest in now. The architects, timber framers, and furniture makers who inspire my own work - from Sam Maloof, Tim Carney, Eric Manigian, Hiroshi Sakaguchi, James Krenov, Gustav Stickley, George and Mira Nakashima, Craig Yamamoto, John Thompson, to all others somehow involved in the movement under the legacy of the Arts and Crafts tradition.

The shakers and farmers who built their homes - with open windows to enjoy natural sunlight; with large meeting areas to enjoy the company of family; with simple built in furniture to reduce the costs on homeowners; with local woods readily available from their backwoods; and in basic and natural timeless design which made sense then and makes even more sense now. Something built into the landscape to highlight the Earth, instead of what is commonplace these days - cathedrals - debacles of showmanship expounding and barfing over cliffsides.

My inspiration is a derivative of these men and women who serve as action-based observers of the human condition on the planet. Those who accept our simple needs and finite time and try not to build a monument to something so ephemeral - they in fact keep everything simple enough so that we can enjoy each other's company in warm and loving environments.

It's based on these same principals as to why I build at all. It's why I love wrapping my knuckles - no matter how sore - or how long they have been worked - around my chisels and planes. It's the simple desicion to offer your creativity in it's most pure sense of actually laying manifest to a tangible item - and being unyielding in your moral values as to why you are doing any of it at all. It's for my eyes, and heart, and mind. And it's only in the craftsman's quest of pure fucking excellence that can we all take a look at the furniture builders tool chest and recognize something powerful in even his collection of simple objects not intended for display.

That he cares, and that he is building.

Gettin' Jujutsu

2009-03-27T17:40:00.000-07:00

"I will not learn about fire by thinking about fire, but by burning." - Carla Needleman, The Work of Craft

Working out the angles for full-blind double angled bracing to accept double angles for splayed spindle legs - like a dog on ice. All angles up in this beeyotch (apart from the square cuts) are exactly 10.5 degrees. The same degree I use for butterfly keys. Continuity rules.

Bryant Bell Photography

"The "art of softness", or "way of yielding" is a collective name for Japanese martial art styles including unarmed and armed techniques. Jujutsu evolved among the samurai of feudal Japan as a method for defeating an armed and armored opponent without weapons. Due to the ineffectiveness of striking against an armored opponent, the most efficient methods for neutralizing an enemy took the form of pins, joint locks, and throws. These techniques were developed around the principle of using an attacker's energy against him, rather than directly opposing it." - The Googles/Wikilord

In admiration of a master

2009-03-11T22:25:00.000-07:00

"My life has been a long search across the tumbling screes on mountain slopes around the world to find small points of glowing truth.

Backed into a soulless steel and glass jungle which threatens the disintegration of our systems and institutions, we face an unknown future. With a prodigious drive we have built the first true megalopolis, but we have produced so little of any intrinsic value. There is not a single monument in recent centuries to express any sort of transcending human will or soul. Taken as a whole, we have the poorest assemblage of architecture in the history of man, without a single building of greatness.

There are few to listen or to see, but a small nucleus of truth resides in the crannies of the world waiting for a receptive ear. The Karma Yogin, he who follows the path of action, understands the road that must be taken. We are on the verge of a great and heroic revolution, a revolution of the soul - a revolution so vast and influential that the revolutions of the West, the French, the American and the Russian, will appear childish and impotent. The transformations stretch out into endless vistas before us.

The transformation calls for the joining together of those who seek "something else", who aspire to new lives free from material desire, who can throw open their arms in charity and create purer forms than we have ever known...

The deep, rich movements, which produced the Dipylon vase, the Doric column, the Chartres cathedral, the Katsura Detached Palace, all were significant in their youthful vigor and simple creativity. May we return to that spirit. It is not man's prerogative to destroy himself. We can only believe in the warm golden light in the darkness.

Since I am a woodworker, the practical aspects interest me primarily. The materials used, the utility of an object, the forms developed are vital. The necessary skills and the resultant beauty must be there. Arts and crafts should be based on pure truth, taking materials and techniques from the past to synthesize with the present. We should be content to work on a small scale and integrally with nature and not violate it.

In a personal way my family and I have gone underground, since we have little relationship to contemporary mores, institutions, economy, or systems. Ours is a search for pure truth in the most realistic of ways - the making of things.

There was no other but to go alone; secure with my family, placing stone upon stone, seeking kinship with each piece of wood, eventually creating an inward mood of space, then bit by bit finding peace and joy in shaping timber into objects of utility and perhaps, if nature smiles, beauty."

-the late, George Nakashima (excerpt from his book The Soul of a Tree - a Woodworker's Reflections)

My friend, Malcolm

2009-03-09T00:45:00.000-07:00

When the world drops out from below your feet the best thing to do is grab onto your paints, buckets, birch canvasses and brushes; your saws, chisels, and planes; your pens and paper; your piano keys and steel strings; or your books and library cards. For the majority of young people, Stagnation is the only mistake you can make in a time like this. Quite literally the only mistake you can make with your rational decisions. We have the gift of freedom now to dictate how the economy should run. And, at least, its plain to me that we were living in a bubble of prosperity that was incapable of supporting us for a long duration.

Modesty, art, education, the sciences, simplicity, integrity, respect, and fellowship are what we forgot about.

So go learn something, build something for your friends of extrinsic and intrinsic value, something that will be along much longer than your physical person. Play music and sing and let those chords ring in for friends listening to put a smile in their eyes. Forget about your personal money issues. You still have shoes on your feet, and not in your stomach. You only sleep in your car, like Jewel, on occasion. It's the older generation footing this bill in relative terms. And when we start to pull out of it, I want people like myself and like my friends inspiring others and building the communities we will bear our children in. I want to go into business-type of meetings and be able to introduce myself as such, "Hi, I'm Jeff. I like to party naked."

Thanks for the advice, Malcolm.

My Friend, Kai

2009-03-01T22:57:00.001-08:00

There exist, somewhere amidst the dreck of our planet, 200-300 woodworkers who are formally trained under the mentorship of a Japanese Miya Daiku (Temple Carpenter). This apprenticeship is not offered by way of school or government funded program. These skills are passed down from each Japanese temple carpenter to only one, perhaps two, worthy students in his entire lifetime. Often these temple carpenters begin work at about the age of 10 or earlier, and as with the apprenticeship, one will be training from anywhere between 7-30 years of about 80 hours of week continuously. Often these apprenticeships include at least a year to three years of tool sharpening. And this task only, 7 days a week, 12 hours a day. Sitting cross legged on a tatami mat of an unheated thatch-roofed hut in a private Hokkaido Prefecture, for one to three years, sliding steel along stone.

These men are very good at what they do. And they receive due penance from their countrymen and government for helping to shape the physical culture of the nation. These carpenters are descendants of a Tribe of families who were exhalted and given social nobility much like the Samurai. Still, to this day, these carpenters are more respected than the doctors, teachers, and scholars of Japan. And in so, a selection of the most prolific of them are given the status of National Living Treasure by Third Order of the Emperor.

Kai's dad, John Thompson, told me about his life in Japan working on his own apprenticeship. He went into great detail concerning the philosophy of building in Japan, how each structure should last for hundreds of years unchanged. Renovations are of barbaric conduct. Each piece of wood is handplaned to a polished finish before being meticulously cut in strange configurations to lock into accepting posts and beams without even air existing between the joints; every detail of these homes and teahouses goes under laboured scrutiny. And essentially each temple carpenter is the architect, using the basic mathematics of proportions, where a millimeter awry can absolutely destroy the aesthetic of a creation.

When John started to go through his portfolio it did not surprise me that I was looking at the homes of Margaret Atwood, Moses Znaimer, Adrienne Clarkson, and other notable Canadians. Nor did it surprise me to see that some of our greatest minds had chosen to employ John to build well designed, small homes that accentuate the land and area in which they sit, rather than droop and menace like monstrosities nestled into the Shore-d cliffsides of wealthy suburbs. These people obviously had good things to do with their time, a lot of work to contend with, and preferred the simple pleasures of natural streams and modest gardens to satiate their desires for relaxation.

People like John and Kai (an experienced electrician, carpenter, furniture builder, photographer, glass worker, and ecologically based prefab home developer at just 22) and other artisans of our trade are still able to work through this recession. And it is a strong indicator to me of why we are where we are now fiscally (at least in terms of the housing market bust), and what needs to be done to correct this.

Here's the shortlist:

1.) We in Vancouver have a major sector of our industry devoted to real estate. But flipping homes, tear downs, resales, and subdivisions have run the costs up so high that we have outpriced ourselves. It is like this around the world, it is unsustainable and unrealistic for price to rise endlessly. Buy for longevity.

2.) I have personally been in a number of situations where I have to install materials into a home only to be torn out after resale. Just something to fill the space. Our waste is absolutely disgusting. Any waste, any at all, is unsustainable, scheduled obsolesence is one of the largest indicators to me that the human race is becoming more shtupit. Design for duration.

3.) The amount of mold and irreparrable damage in relatively young homes in Vancouver (leaky condos anyone?) reeks of absolute bullshit craftsmanship and thought put into these projects. Build for durability.

Japanese Kanna - Handplane that leaves wood with a finer polish than 2000 grit sandpaper

Variety of the weird and wonderful handplanes of John Thompson, each has a single purpose

3 foot by 12 foot musical grade Clear Vertical Grain old growth sustainably harvested Western Red Cedar. 2 plus inches thick.

John and Kai's recycled parts workshop

Reading room outside their countryroad bungalow

Bookmatched bog salvaged Western Broadleaf Maple and Nakashima-slated walnut crotch for coffee table top, private clients.

Gypsy Blood!

2009-02-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

I look at my bank account statements very seldom. I approach such historical documentation of my financial wherewithal with alarm and distaste. I don't need to be reminded of my extravagances in Californian lumber purchases or Japanese hand forged planes and chisels. When I set down to open bills I plop them on the counter for 2 weeks, spill beans on the self sexing pile that continues to manifest itself as a duplicating embryo of ink-ed paper, season it with rich lager three nights in a row, and then pack them in a box to bring on camping trips with me as starter paper for fire.

I broach the subject as a whale would come and investigate a human being swimming - perhaps only twice or so in its lifetime, and quite cautiously. Little is said, but there is a deep understanding between the whale and the man that yes, the man is quite dumber and insignificant than the whale, and no the whale won't stay around for long to be his friend.

I'm not good with money and don't really want very much of it. So, when turds splash on that fan and it's time to duck, I usually find myself with a good friend recouping on the good nature and sorbet coloured skylines of the Juan de Fuca. Heartbreak, job loss, debt, and fundamental change (or stalwart fastidiousness) can begin ratification somewhere drifting amidst lone sailboats and pleasant winter solitude along the embankments of our beautiful coastlines of the Pacific Northwest.

Recession Session.

Charitable Donation

2009-02-04T01:02:00.001-08:00

The good man behind mynameisandy.com and andoandfriends.com, Andy Davis, is an artist and well known print and clothing maker with work featured in a number of art galleries and Thomas Campbell's movie, Sprout.

Andy has generously contributed a signed piece from his Summer of Love tour to the cause which will be up in our raffle for the Jordan Kelly Memorial Scholarship Fund.

Thanks Andy!

Headed Home

2009-02-01T12:47:00.000-08:00

3am; 18 hours deep into a typical day - Grain owner and master craftsman, Brad Anderson, fine tuning the Dave Rastovich pipeline model

Puppies! Coming over to investigate this stinky little fish

Well, it was an amazing week. Thanks to everyone who is getting involved in this. I'll let you all know how to buy the raffle tickets for this board once we get something set up through the Grain website, and Jordan's loving mother, Karen, gets some prep work done in advance.

I got to spend a week living in a barn, sleeping in a boardbag, playing with dogs, and doing some work with my bare hands for good people. This is my perverted idea of a really good time, so it has been worth it all the while.

Thanks again.

Jeff

NakaWaka - The Last Day

2009-01-31T08:17:00.000-08:00

Shalom Duckies

So, after setting this badboy up in front of the house hogs and just admiring it for more than 3 dozen minutes I've decided to do what's right and what's best.

The board is going to be staying in Maine, so the ball can get rolling on the original intent of it's birth. The guys here at Grain have offered to do the glass job on it, as they are masters and I have very little experience in this beast of the shaping process. Resin bridge for the leash across the buttcrack, glass on fins, and a gore-tex vent to allow this hollow little toy to breathe are going to be taken care of in-house.

It's still early and I have a lot of work left on it. As you can see from the pictures, the rails are still bulky. For the next 24 hours I'm going to throw my dust mask on and vee out the concave bottom of the deck, roll in some tight rails and bring down the chunk, yo.

It's going to be a touching goodbye and I wish I could bring it home to show off. But that's just for my own ego. This project is specifically about nullifying ego and helping for the sake of people needing help.

I'll post once more before I fly out of Portland, ME tomorrow, but enjoy the goodies for now.

Love Jefe

NakaWaka for Jordan Kelly

2009-01-30T17:28:00.000-08:00

This 5'4 beasty has her top planks lam'd on and is patiently undergoing the handplaning of some Lis-correct hard to rolled rails from bottom to top.

Again, sorry to keep things underwraps but this board has a very special meaning to the East'rn seabord surf community. More news will follow once I get something down for both SBC Surf and the Surfer's Path.

Many thanks to Grain Surfboards and the Kelly family for letting me do my dance in this foresaken debacle we refer to as life.

NakaWaka - Picture Update 2

2009-01-28T20:34:00.000-08:00

The construction element nearly finished, I'm onto shaping the rails and fairing out the lands for a half lap joint with the planks. Holding Brad Anderson hand foiled Gephardt fins.

Just a baby at 5'4", barely spanning the gap of a traditional shaper's stand. Ultra bouyant (wood and air), a little extra weight (epoxy), and some beefed up volume through width mean this puppy can be surfed quite a bit shorter than your reggie slab of bacon yo.

Spokeshave, solitude, and blasting music

Bookmatched bottom planks, single concave.

Getting pretty fucking close to symmetrical.

My favourite part of looking at Fish boards, checking out the asscrack. This one has some sweet brown and golden Hawaiian Koa wood laminated between blond cedar, sloping up into bookmatched vertically grained pink Douglas Fir.

Pretty damned light so far. The white cedar from the Northeast is considered the premier small craft planking wood for boat builders internationally. Picking up slabs of this stuff is surprising, much like handling balsa. They're densities and weights differ by about only 15 percent. The epoxy will take care of that unfortunately.

Fun little board

Glue, steam, clamps, and wood; no nails required.

I want to tongue that bum

NakaWaka - Picture Update

2009-01-26T19:42:00.000-08:00

Student Boards

Bird's Eye View - The Barn Studio

Hullo from Coffee Break 3 of 11

Inside of the bottom planks, rough cut; Top plank centers glued up and ready for more

Top Planks, Bookmatched and inlaid with care and lots of fucking glue. Mean growlers in this bad boy yo.

Hanging disassembled rocker tables - the key to creating a perfect board out of 1/4 inch material. No room for error.

The Chine Logs and Jap Saw. Forming the outline of the board very early in the process takes a few sets of eyes, an iron, soggy towels, and a lot of patience.

Clamp Porn.

Steam bent and laminated; chine logs and starter strips awaiting the rest.

Personal invention - Custom Death Star Jig for Rainbow Tail Blocks. Boiled Cedar bends so nice.

The underbelly of the Beast. The matching jig is gluing up the other tail block for a real stripy buttcrack on this pescado peligroso.

11 pm and the day is nearly done. Can you see it yet?

NakaWaka

2009-01-24T17:57:00.001-08:00

I'm hand shaping a special board in collaboration with Brad and Mike at Grain Surfboards, out in their New England barn over the next week. It's a 5'4" Waka, a Steve Lis style fish; constructed with Northeastern White Cedar and some burled American Black Walnut Nakashima-inspired butterfly keys. More news to come on this particular board.

But for now, please enjoy some shots of the detailed work I put in today; grading, selecting, and beginning the glue up of the elegantly bookmatched planks. The bottom picture is of Brad applying a Grain logo to the custom built rocker table/shaping stand of a new model for Dave Rastovich. Pipeline butterstick. Check out www.grainsurfboards.com for more information and pics of the Rasta board.

The Spiders Adorn Us

2009-01-14T20:52:00.000-08:00

There is a microscopic spider which exists only on the human forehead. It is safe to say, that her perception of reality is limited to the domain that she evolved within. This microscopic spider believes that one single habitable landscape exists in the entire Universe. She would not be able to survive the harsh conditions of say, the nose. Never will the arachnid be able to comprehend the tangibility of an earlobe because it is so radically beyond the limits of reality. Spider loves forehead.

This profundity of our short-sight is a global trait amongst all organic life. Where are we right now? We are on no nose, we have not sought nose. Even in our domain, we are unaware of the remaining 9/10ths or so of other life forms on Planet Earth that remain undiscovered. We are unable to even conceptualize them. Just as we are incapable of sensing the other 99.9% of what is occurring around us right now. Like those radiowaves running through walls and cars and us. And that construct of duration that pulls us ever forward, and never back. That string theory under your foot. Those 7 other dimensions beyond your mirror. We can grasp only theories at this point. But what about the constructs and realities and facts which extend beyond what our brains can compute? How do all the other senses work? What do you experience? How narrow, the parameters of sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste.

What we know is that our IQ (as meaningless a construct and measurement that it is, on a micro-hypothetical level) tells the human race that we are about 10 times smarter than many other mammals. Possibly dumber than a few. And that we are about 130 quotient points smarter than we were 3 million years ago. Evolution literally crawls along at the pace of 1 millimeter every eon when you combine the changes running through each and every living creature in this godforsaken Kingdom. She is a doe-eyed heffer in no rush. Yet, she has done her job, as we have done ours to some certain oxymoronic level of flawed perfection.

But we are growing smarter, three points every decade now to be specific. And do you know what you would have if you added together the IQ points of the entire race?

You would get somewhere in the neighbourhood of a tenth of the amount of cells in a single droplet of water. And my point is not to discredit our ingenuity or neuropsychological structure. I am writing this right now, able to extricate conscious thought and the thing allowing me to do it, from one another. I can look at my brain, through words, using my brain! No other animal can do this neat trick. We are fairly marvelous creatures of sentient and whimsical capabilities. But we have devastating limitations.

We are turned into cross-eyed babblemouthed freaks by our own egos. Every single one of us feels like the main character in the most beautifully crushing drama in the history of time. Just as a wave would feel its dutiful mission to cross the Oceans on its own, to crash in fleeting symbolism on a beach in Puerto Vallarta amongst soft North Americans in handsomely grotesque bathing costumes. We do not truly grasp that we are mere undulations of something much larger. We don’t identify with the Connectivity of Species. A wave has about as much awareness of the lunar and solar energies that create it as it does that there are more waves behind it and in front of it, part of it for infinity. Nor can we grasp at our own connections with each other and mechanical forces. We just steer fingers and legs and mouths along, never really confronting who is driving. That we are a movement of Ocean.

And where does the wave go? The water stays, we know that. But what about that wave as a tangible phenomenon? Does it leave its watermark before retreat, percolating effervescently on thirsty sand? Erased without due grace or penance. Is it the same for humans? Is there not even dark nor light nor remembrance nor sound nor any single fucking thing at all after we die? Can you even conceptualize nothingness? Or do we change? Do our cells grow to become forehead dwelling arachnids?

Or do we become something larger? The Universe is our second major limitation. Because we believe it is All and we believe it is True. But the most insight I can share with you is that the Universe is as infinitely small as it is large. It extends to infinity in both directions. And usually I am about as prolific as a hovercraft, but there is no such thing as the Smallest or the Largest.

The atom is the smallest thing known to mankind? Ha. I choose not to believe this, logic is empowering. What about the nucleus or proton or neutron of an atom? If I admit that the atom is the smallest element in the Universe then I am admitting to being a lowly object of existence. I prefer to imagine that I lie somewhere in the middle and my parameters of Existence and All expound outwards in both directions. What I am beginning to grasp about the Universe extending in every direction is that I am like a fleck of paint on a wall. All that I can conceptualize is within my realm of colour. All I am truly aware of is on my plane.

But what I am trying to understand is that I am in the middle of the Central Nervous System of organic life. There are infinite layers of paint over me and below me as well. And they are coloured and sized in concepts that we have not yet understood or seen. They use different logic. They exist within different parameters of different Universes. They may have spiders in love with their foreheads. They may not. Our entire Universe may be the heart of that spider. It may not.

And this brings me onto the case of Love. Feelings and Events that are unbound by time and space. They are phenomena that literally collapse our constructs, our logic, our perception of reality.

Love is the feeling that binds the human race together, it is the word that describes the Miracle of when two bodies feel entirely united. It is when conscious thought and the parameters and ends of your body literally crumble away and you extend and melt into somebody.

I have only experienced this once before. Which is all that it can ever be, it is all that it needs to be. It is perfect. It is shattering. True Love, from the inaugural miraculous experience, lasts beyond what we know of life. It defines the Universe as indefinable.

2009-01-14T14:51:00.000-08:00

"The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists." - Dickens

The George Nakashima inspired console table and bench was custom made with hand tools. The tabletop is Western Broadleaf Maple, salvaged from a bog out in Cowichan Lake on Vancouver Island. The wood was purchased from Lorne and Dale at the wood salvaging company Legacy Woodcrafts. They have a large selection of maple slabs which have been drying for a number of years now, as they produce luthier and musical grade lumber for local woodworkers. The tressle style slab legs were pieces from the same tree and are full of interesting curl, spalt, and burl. For Japanese style joined underframing and the through tenon brace & shelf, we used a rare piece of Clear Vertical Grain Alaskan Yellow Cedar and some Oregon Black Walnut, which is seen in the butterfly keys as well. The Butterfly keys maintain an 1/8th inch gap running down the length of the 7 foot long by 2 foot wide table, for expansion and contraction through the seasons.

The whole piece is finished in 5 coats of a custom blend of mineral spirits, rub on lo-gloss polyurethane, and 100% pure walnut oil. Finally it is given a hand applied museum grade blend of carnuba and beeswax conservators polish for sheen and protection.

Revisions/appendage

2008-12-24T15:44:00.000-08:00

118. Wanderlust
117. Alligator heart
116. Savages
115. Knife throwing
114. Azerbaijani pomegranate smugglers
113. Drinking Urine
112. Kevin Costner, drinking urine
111. A-frames
110. Camp Juicy
109. Wood burning stoves
108. Ear licking
107. Lac-des-Ecorces
106. The smell of freshly sawn Tennessee Cedar
105. Driving a boat to work with an old dog in the bow
104. Months alone
103. Lifelong friendships
102. A fresh haircut
101. "Cleft in twain"

I like 100 things

2008-12-22T18:58:00.000-08:00

100. The Giant Squid
099. Flaming Pineapple Rum Juice
098. Okkervil River
097. Raspberry Beret
096. Patrolling the living room in my underwear
095. One more cup of coffee
094. American Black Walnut
093. The legends of Japanese Temple Carpenters
092. Waxing my moustache
091. Yvonne Chouinard
090. Ralph Steadman
089. Galapagos - Kurt Vonnegut
088. Fireplace - the word
087. Fireplace - the place of fire
086. Wood Porn - Burled Crotch
085. Fresh flannel
084. Nipple licking
083. Sleeping Bags
082. Hydrodynamics, The Bernoulli Principle, and Most Sciences
081. The Hovercraft - Man's most preposterous invention
080. http://www.2or3things.blogspot.com/
079. Non-Euclidean Geometry
078. Science Fiction short story compilations
077. Young children on mushrooms at the Planetarium for school sanctioned Field Trips
076. Port Orford Cedar Ofuro Tubs
075. Chalkboard paint on bedroom walls
074. Farley Mowat
073. Canoeing
072. Undiscovered colours
071. The 10 dimensions
070. Conspiracy Theories
069. Hot women farting
068. Canoe Paddles
067. The Surfer's Journal
066. Chaos
065. Storytelling
064. Croatian boat people
063. Thom Yorke
062. Warm sun on a brown back
061. Bastogne Walnut
060. Opposable Thumbs
059. Sleepy puppies
058. Doukhabours
057. The drums in There There and Reckoner, both by Radiohead
056. Music with cinematic qualities
055. Jacques Cousteau
054. Retro Danish adult unity films
053. Large National Geographic collections
052. Libraries
051. Sam Maloof
050. George Nakashima
049. Bicycles covered in vines
048. Being naked, drinking red wine
047. The UN flag
046. Harry Hammer, the eccentric carpenter
045. Penetration
044. Red bricks
043. Leadbelly
042. Driving across Canada and listening to Neil Young
041. Broccoli in stir fry
040. Autumn
039. Trying to remember what Tiger Ice Cream tasted like
038. Blackouts and the need to self medicate through these times
037. Plum, apple, and lemon trees
036. Pecan Pie
035. The crustaceans of Nova Scotia
034. The Queen of Cowichan
033. Airplane Food
032. Flying up riverbeds in Helicopters
031. Swimming with dolphins in the Amazon
030. The Asthmatic Rapper and all characters of my friend, Ferg
029. Savary Island grass strip runway raves
028. Cathedral Grove
027. Mal Pais
026. My mom's enchiladas
025. Avo-fucking-cados
024. Surfboard shaper Bob Simmons
023. "Written under Duress"
022. The Timber Framers' Guild
021. Laser Tag in 1995
020. Red suspenders, leather tool belt
019. Motorcycle sidecars
018. Cisco Kid sung by War
017. French Canadians and Quebec
016. Mark Eilers' swami grandfather
015. Mark Eilers
014. Photo albums
013. Holga and Lomo cameras
012. Mittens
011. Rubber boots
010. Binary Code
009. Secret tunnels, rooms, compartments
008. Juicy pears
007. Malcolm Johnson
006. Homemade Giant Jenga
005. Laundry Day
004. Celestial Navigation
003. Sharp tools
002. Tarp Cities
001. My Grey Hair

Arriving Independently: The Divinity of Nature and the Persistance of the Human Hand

2008-12-15T13:19:00.000-08:00

"There are specimens, like the Yaku sugi, a type of Japanese cedar, which in their single lives have spanned the entire history of civilized man. These specimens were already substantial trees when Europe lived in caves. Hundreds of generations have marched past. Civilizations much greater than ours have risen and turned to dust." - George Nakashima, The Soul of a Tree: A Woodworker's Reflections, 1981

I barrelled down the number 18 in a 1989 Chevy van. It was equipped with a lethargic braking system, hyperbolic paraboloid of strategically placed and mathematically efficient bungee cords holding the doors on, and mismatched tires from a Ron's scrap unltd. The snow continued to fall and I really began to wonder what the fuck I was doing. Now mid Vancouver Island flying headlong into a blizzard, with no signs of life in front of my direction of travel. Giant cedars created a cathedral about my person as I exhaled and the motor cut out. Oh well, I thought, still perplexed by why I was even here at all.

The drift began. Mouth agape, eyes looking down at my hands dumbly, back slouched casually I was in a zoned state of daydream. I bore no resemblance to a man spinning around at now 100 kilometers an hour on a highway. A muffled embrace of ditch and snow and metal and my friction free first couple of hours of flight were temporarily done.

The things we do to follow our passions and live in one way or another, a good path, is a stunning testament to desire. With a BBA from a fairly prominent business school in the East, I am young, I am well educated, I am highly sophisticated (this is suspect), and I am now working as a carpenter. I end up working anywhere from 50 to 80 hours a week in order to feed myself. My knuckles feel constant atrification, my hands tremble with aches and muscle growth. Swollen and fatty they make my arms look stupendously unbalanced; like they belong to a younger, prepubescent waif.

Through this economic downturn I am prepared to live in a van and eat my shoes in order to figure myself and trade out. I know it makes me happy, and I know it doesn't bring that same joy to a lot of other carpenters. This is the same joy I take pride in bringing to personal clients.

So, it's with great honour that I get to make trips out to Lake Cowichan to the log and lumber salvagers for the south Island, Legacy Woodcrafts. They deliver some of the finest grained western broadleaf Maple live edged slabs for resawing to luthiers and furniture builders alike. Yet, when one examines their inventory it really becomes something of a blasphemy to mill it into dimensional lumber. And the first time I stepped into their shop I decided to do a live edged table.

With a fairly limited amount of power tools in our woodworking cooperative, I worked the piece largely by hand. Wrapping fat fingers around my handplanes and dozuki sawset in order to let in well jointed black walnut butterfly keys. I love the process of bringing wood to life again and letting it sing. I find my own siren in the process. It is an awestriking humble when you set a finished tabletop down on tediously jointed legs. Watching that plumb bubble find the middle as you rest your level down on the piece, it's major element of design is naturally inherent in it's form that we let it keep.

I was so deeply moved by the first completed table that I purchased two of Nakashima's books. I was not surprised to read that his philosophy was so similar to my own. Self described as a vagabond gypsy during the early 1900s he travelled through France, Northern Africa, Japan, and India for 7 years; enjoying life & love and living as a disciple and building an ashram in Pondicherry. He returned to his home just across the Straight of Juan de Fuca, backed by the Olympic Mountains in Washington, where Nakashima studied architecture. And finally, in the 1940s him and his family were interned in a Japanese segregation camp, George would find his way to woodworking.

He was sponsored by a local furniture builder to upgrade his living conditions in exchange for work. The man had heard about a few of his wild furniture and home designs and wanted to nurture that creativity. 50 years passed and Nakashima's career was mottled with an intelligent legacy of benevolence and creation. A masters from MIT, and the Prix Fontainebleau from L'Ecole Americaine des Beaux Arts in France he was regarded by the American Arts and Crafts Movement as not only a grandfather of Modernism but as a "Living Treasure". He received the Third Order of the Sacred Treasure from the Emperor and Government of Japan in 1983. He was commissioned to build the table for World Peace at the UN and started a personal quest to erect an Altar for World Peace in every continent around the world. Martin Guitars built their only commemorative guitar for a non-musician in his honour.

And he did this out of love for the forest. To give a tree that was about to die, or become a malady in the immunology of the forest system itself, a second life as very well made furniture. And having felt this way, personally, for a long time I have to tell you that it feels good to arrive independently to a conclusion. But it is one of the greatest connections we have, as people, to feel that wherever we arrive, is in good company.

And so it's with even greater honour that I have found a 20 year old (from cut date) heritage slab of Pennsylvanian Black Walnut through one of George Nakashima's original lumber suppliers. This particuilar piece has a full split running through it's length, and never made it to Nakashima's shop due to the defect. I plan on building a coffee table out of this 26 by 51 inch slab in his similar style. I have also recently come across some reclaimed Chilean Redwood that will serve as the trestle legs and butterfly key inlays for this beautiful little creature.

The wood arrived home today, from the heartland of American Black Walnut, in Pennsylvania. And when I opened it up I welled up with tears. It is stunning and I hope I can do it justice as an hommage to the master of the craft.

The Crawl

2008-12-08T16:43:00.000-08:00

In a dank and unlit concrete-floored room the mercury hovered around the 0 degrees centigrade demarcation. A 6 foot by 6 foot boiler heater cask was cast open. It was once used to heat all 60 rooms of the since reclaimed mattress warehouse in East Vancouver, and now was peeled open and it's rusted and greasy innards strewn with dozens of beeswax candles. Thom Yorke's voice made women crumble and men talk voraciously about design. Red wine and graffiti was in abundance amidst the handmade custom polished concrete and refined wood sculptures and furniture pieces made in Steven Pollock's Woodstone Studios. People were excited, the inspiration was palpable. Thick.

Brisk and sunny all weekend long, the Eastside Culture Crawl wandered through the 1000 Parker Street Studios where I belong to the Beatty Street Woodworking Coop. It was an event like no other in Vancouver. Over 300 artists in over 30 different buildings opened their studios for the general public to wander into, to see one element, the setting, of creative decadence. There was a general notion that this exhibit lacks all of the supercilious nonsense usually accompanied with major art exhibits. The entire event was free and is designed to involve the community to participate in one of the most fulfilling components of our castaway subsector of Vancouver.

Having said that, museum and world renown painters exhibited triptychs and murals that would cost three times more than a substantial down payment on a home, and metal sculptors showed us the isolation and struggle of man through formulations of balance and asymmetry. And on the other end of the scale a man built a slew of really gnarly electric guitars, all about one quarter of their regular size, and had a Norwegian Black Metal Band come in and put on a free show on the fourth floor afterhours.

Six and a half foot plus Norsemen with hands like bunches of bananas played tiny instruments with fury while droves of frightened artsy nerds skirted about pleasantly. Equal parts peasantry and Everclear poured through the tiny drumset and speakers to thrill those still coherent enough to clap and smile drunkenly with their newfound friends.

Utility Furniture, Doug Lane Furniture, The Beatty Street Woodworking Cooperative, Patricia Atchison, Noel Hodnett, Silvia Dotto, Brian Moncion, Sylvia Oates, Jim Park, Steven Pollock, and Fredi Rahn all showed some truly spectacular pieces within the 1000 Parker Street Studios as the largest venue at the Crawl.

I was only showing two pieces, a nearly finished Hollow Wooden Surfboard, care of Grain Surfboards and myself at the helm of the block plane, and a George Nakashima style console table for a private client.

Photo Courtesy of http://flickr.com/photos/bludleaf/

The table is constructed from windfell, bog salvaged Broadleaf Western Maple from Cowichan Lake. It is 2 feet by 7 feet in top dimension, and stands 24" high. The piece was salvaged by Lorne at Legacy Woodcrafts and air dried for nearly a decade before I got my hands on it. I also used Alaskan Yellow Cedar and American Black Walnut in a Japanese style framing on the underside of the table top, as well as a through tenon shelf for storage. The wood was left wild edged, as I couldn't bring myself to take any of it off, after so much care went into preserving it as best as possible.

However, I split it down the middle in order to preserve as much thickness as possible, it was cupped quite severely. Once it was planed plumb, the pieces were rejoined with an eight inch reveal held constant through the table top, with black walnut butterfly keys. It was constructed largely without power tools and finished with a custom 5 coat hand-rubbed blend of 100% Walnut oil, mineral spirits, and oil based polyurethane, finally being sealed with Beeswax conservators polish. The colour of the wood, and patina of the outermost edges of the piece went from a dull white color to a vibrant raspberry almond color. It turned out much better than I expected.

The board, which was hours away from completion, and months away from the final coat of uncurable varnish actually hardening, had to be stripped off just before the event started. It was constructed from Northeastern White Cedar at the Grain Surfboards August workshop. The friendly folks over at The Surfer's Path picked up the article I wrote about the experience, printed, it will be on the shelf in North America around Christmas Time. Issue 69. Ahhhhhh, high school humour when did you lose your mighty grasp on my jowls?

All in all it was an amazing weekend, and although I definitely would not consider myself an artist of any sort, it was inspiring to be around so many creative people. Many many thanks to all who attended.

(Email me at jeff.e.martin@hotmail.com for consultation services on Naturally inclined custom wood tables, benches, and surfboards)

Gobama!

2008-11-04T20:51:00.000-08:00

Fucking Barackattack baby.

Canada cares, we've got your back you beautiful black president.

Who else smells what Barack is cookin?

Eastside Culture Crawl

2008-09-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

Hullo duckies.

I have been asked to include my first personally shaped surfboard in this year's Eastside Culture Crawl, a Vancouver-wide open art gallery exhibition. This is the Culture Crawl's 12th year and is a marathon event of open art studio galleries within the parameters of Main St., 1st Ave, Commercial Dr., and the waterfront of East Vancouver.

"Painters, jewelers, sculptors, furniture makers, musicians, weavers, potters, writers, printmakers, photographers, glassblowers; from emerging artists to those of international fame... these are just a sampling of the exciting talents featured during this unique chance to meet local artists in their studios.

Purchase something that strikes your fancy, commission something to be uniquely yours, or just browse through the studios and meet the artists, learning about their specific works of art, materials and tools, approaches and techniques. This is a once a year opportunity to meet many diversely talented artists and view their creations in the studios where they work. Be part of this exciting event, which brings people from all over the Lower Mainland, and share in the imaginations that enrich our neighbourhood and lives." - from http://www.eastsideculturecrawl.com/

Please take a boo at their website to see lists of the studios, artists, and their mediums to see what you may be interested in.

I'll be answering questions, discussing the philosophy of Grain Surfboards shaping operation, talking about the possibility of workshop shaping classes to run throughout this winter, and having a good time with live music and a stocked bar at the Beatty Street Woodworking Cooperative at the 1000 Parker Street Studios just off Commercial Drive. The event runs from Friday November 21st until Sunday November 23rd.

Email me at jeff.e.martin@hotmail.com for more information.

Fall Issue - SBC Surf Tease

2008-09-17T17:17:00.001-07:00

Photo - Nick LaVecchia

Fall swell is arriving on the slipstreams of fibreglass cloth, weekend trips south, and redwine soaked flannel evenings with friends. Look for the new SBC Surf Issue out in time for Christmas with a story about how Grain Surfboards is an acting catalyst for change in the surf industry; helping surfers become shapers.

Seaweed!!

2008-09-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

I don't have the know how to put the video right on this thinger. But here is an interesting clip from a new independently produced video about the Sombrio Squatters and their tale of eviction from their homes.

It definitely strikes a chord for someone who has seen and met so many displaced people in our own country and abroad. Even though the land was turned into protected parklands it was not only unfortunate how the BC government didn't allow these people to remain in their homes as individual lots bordering the park, but it was shameful how their eviction process was handled.

We show very little understanding of concepts outside of the realm of business, real estate, and profit through all levels of government. And during these elections I encourage you to examine what your electorate can provide to you outside of these limiting concepts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-m9nno07EU

Nick LaVecchia

2008-08-25T12:20:00.000-07:00

I'm currently in the foothills of the Laurentian Mountain Range in Quebec, taking a brief reprise from work and responsibility. I have just returned from the Grain Surfboards shaping barn in the uppermost reaches of the Appalaichan mountains. Ideas, talents, people, heart, maritime heritage, and cedar are colliding in Maine right now. The inspiration and imagination is totally fucking palpable around this talented and loving group of people.

I want a green card.

I will be drafting up a beefy article over the next week on the company and how it is literally changing the face of enterprise through it's community support. After 10 days of living and working at the shop with the multi-faceted owners, Brad Anderson & Mike LaVecchia, I was introduced to a number of people working on a dime to support their ideals. Among one was Mike's younger brother, Nick LaVecchia. I had heard of his art and photography from a number of media sources and people over the past couple of years. And my god, man. His photography is absolutely stunning. I feel priviledged to have his photographic support for this upcoming submission.

Take a peek in at his portfolio at www.NickLaVecchia.com and check over at www.GrainSurfboards.com to browse through the developments of mariner boatbuilding culture and the subtle beauty of surfing wooden boards.

SBC Surf - The Meatball's Big Party

2008-07-26T19:23:00.000-07:00

The polite and amicable version of my original reportings on The Attack of Danger Bay 7 were sent to print after a bit of back and forth with the frightened editorial staff loping dolefully about the Toronto office of SBC media. Some parts were ommitted, some truths concealed, but all in all the story remained in fairly good standings with those privy to it's final rendition.

So, I am proud to announce that the lead feature for Canada's premiere surf mag, SBC Surf, and my first personal published piece is available on newsstands everywhere.

Thanks to Malcolm @ SBC, Bryant for all the terrific lens work, Tom @ Landyachtz for being so elusive, and all the Pender Harbour longboarders and residents who made this such an entertaining weekend and article.

The Meatball fucking charging around Carnage Corner at the Attack of Danger Bay 7

When I was asked to do this article I agreed based on the condition that my Doctor, photographer, and confidante would be paid handsomely to join me. Unfortunately a vastly decadent and haunting description of Bryant Bell was folded unto itself a few times and, as negatives cancel each other out, it sort of disappeared from the manuscript.

This voice message was his invitation from myself as I was driving off the ferry after my meeting with Malcolm. It may allow you to romanticize the duress of prose, grace, wit, and hard drugs. It may make you want to go to church.

It made us want to collaborate again in the future.

The Vagabond Winter

2008-06-30T19:57:00.000-07:00

Photo - Robyn Levy

I was born unto malnourished hippies. Begot by wanderlust and magnificent genetic code in the bungalonic expanse of Edmonton. My twin sister and I were squirted out onto the floor of Planet Earth during a transient time of our parents’ lives. They were Ontarians drawn west by the promises of iconic mountain chains, cedar grove camping, champagne powder, fruitful wines, and really great bud.

My sister and I drew first light under the long shadows of the Rocky Mountains. Suckling on carbon monoxide and the Chinook trade winds from the rusted floor of an orange van. We examined each other for the first time out of our yolky vessel, feral and itchy footed creatures of the North. By the time we hit the spurred coastline of the west, one of the kind-hearted mongrels who fended for us was heavily moustached, the other a shoeless waif.

The Pacific Ocean served as our pacifiers; twinkling with golden sunlight and dotted with catalinas between the Broken Islands. From my first year onwards, as winter promenaded about to spring, the moustache-ed one would latch my hands to the spongy pink felt foot-straps of his sailboard. I would dangle and drag, precariously hinged to the squeaky pintail of his Bic windsurfer gliding about the chilly arms of the Sunshine Coast. Behind Capitan Moustachio I was fastened, and would gaze up to, in admiration and horror of. Mouth agape we would skip across the Howe Sound on westwardly winds. Boy parts, legs and jubilant shrieks of terror bounced along behind that furry-lipped werewolf. Half criminal, half retarded.

I was raised on the undercurrents of our western coastal shelf with a salty brow, dumb smile, and wind-chapped genitalia. This is how I met the Ocean; and the same spirit in which I enjoyed the slap and tickle of salinic waters during my formative years. As I matured, I spent winters chasing hurricane swell through from Northern Pines to Southern Everglades of the East. I was forever looking outward. Sliding along Humboldt currents in abandoned Peruvian fishing villages. Riding waves alone into barren desert and poverty that only the dust had not forgotten. It was my space travel; an external search for what lay within. Fleeing my heritage on the totally flawed logic that I would find myself elsewhere from home.

So, on a soggy night in November of 2007, I gently pushed myself from the heavily lacquered oaken slab of a little known East Van pissoir. I felt for the suffocated clink of keys under my coatflap and prepared for the sloppy spittle of Autumnal evening in Vancouver. Toque on and flannels shouldered I heaved the heavy & aromatic grain of the Douglas Fir door aside. I skated home past wealthy young people with ugly footwear, angular haircuts, and poor investment choices hanging about their custardly and domestic bones.

My companion was waiting outside, braiding his hands harshly through our gear. I examined the contents of the Jeep that we were to befoul. Pemmican & skateboards, wetsuit legs & woolen undergarments, spot heaters & beans, axe-handles & machetes, notepads & photo gear, cedar kindling & blue tarps spewed from the boot of my car like mutant afterbirth.

“I forgot my pillow.” The photographer packed and spoke haphazardly. He had put two air mattresses and two different barbeques in the trunk. Restless, he picked up my skateboard and pushed off. While he was power sliding and sipping bubblegum slurpee about my block, I dutifully removed said items and returned them to my house. I lobbed some spare propane bottles in the front seat when I noticed the throwing stars. They looked deliberate and of great consequence.

I had shared company with this lens jockey long enough to know that he was a genuine gerrymandering mountebank on the best of accounts. But from an examination of his unkempt appearance, bizarre mating habits, and Oriental weaponry collection I remember believing him to be very untrustworthy. I had gone to his parties before, they were quite dangerous. He was a man who I would later find standing atop the roof of his car pissing onto the windshield; while trying to make a hasty getaway from police officers. He was South African.

I believe the sole qualification on his resume read, “No arrests thus far.” He signed his name as a poorly disguised alias. ‘Dr. Bryant Desmond’ was scrawled in jagged penmanship at the bottom, next to the watermark. It was written on Pondhopper’s Baitshop letterhead. No such enterprise existed. He was perfect.

Bryant was now back at the car, jabbering away madly about something, “…my God, man do you realize what they go through!? They’ve found something. That much is obvious. We need to investigate further.” At this point I realized I would not be returning to work on Monday. We battened down the hatches.

Hundreds of waves later it was 3:30 pm on a sullen & grey December afternoon. Midweek and electorally impoverished we were standing at a hostile surf checkpoint along HWY 14. Not 20 minutes prior I had emerged from a powerful afternoon on the Juan de Fuca. I surfed right after right; studying the pitch, roll, yaw, and drive of my balsa fish until I could only drift amongst bull kelp and tugboats on the outside of the lineup. I listened to the distant lift and lap of shifting cobblestone from below and watched island folk after island folk tear down the wave, drawing beautiful lines from crest to shoulder and back. Heavy spray disintegrated and dusted my cheeks.

I exited the freezing waters and a mixture of minerals, salts, water, and tempered urine ran down my leg. I removed my neoprene exoskeleton and began to stand about. Airdrying there without pants. Bits chapping.

We watched some immaculately sculpted overhead sets trumpet into the bay. Like god’s fat fingers extending out of the Ocean to give us a big fucking high five. They were walling up in succession, upright sea lion men and women gliding along them, dipping hands and arms. Heavy trajection and drive on the proving grounds for unspoken slabs. My rubber sea costume was still at my ankles. My bum as bare as a babe’s.

I had been doing the crawdad kerfuffle; wrestling rubber in the standing semi-prone. Wetsuit stubbornly clinging to my ankles like overloved twins to a parent. Bent over, my hairy brown-eye was warily watching for weird dweebs and lonely lumberjacks. I was hanging and bobbing like a giant slide whistle held by camel knuckles. I continued to struggle against my personal Chinese fingertrap. From behind it all resembled a jumbo jet with temperamental landing gear. Flying low, underneath a distasteful moon.

But this was no time for petty conversation or subtle bragging. There is nothing modest about the enormity of my testes.

Bryant jogged up, Hasselblad in hand, “Sick tubes dood! Mackin’ swell and some styly studes!!!!!” We walked back up and into the woods. Squatters on crown land.

This winter, Bryant and I embraced the province we were raised in, laying foot in soil as rich as Belgian fudge. Camping amongst old growth walrus tusks; driftwood, megaladonian in size. We spent sunrises surfing frigid reef and pointbreaks into 200 foot cedars, mountains rushing to the summit from underneath the sea, and an unsettling & constant fog that cloaked birds of prey. We shared afternoons with old friends; and nightfall in the territory of predators. Together, we found a new haunt.

There were seal pups in the lineup, snow on the beach, and bears sniffing our tents. We fought cold, hunger, and pillowlessness together. We braved vinegary discharge in our wetsuits for some surprisingly well shaped waves on the South Coast. I escaped the runamuck drug smugglers and land slanging lords of Vancouver; Rough Trades and blemished transactions of our burg. We found some semblance of the dream we imagined. We roughed it with empathy to all those people who lost their homes to privatization along the coast. Entering the water with only a smile and leaving the woods with every single detail of what went into our story.

For the 150 days that spread and pull the equinoxes apart from annum to annum we tracked a bizarre species of biped through the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail. From Sooke to Sombrio we studied an unchristian offshoot of humanoid. The focus of our study was a gangly group of geeks, rubberclad arborists who materialized out of milky mists before dawn. Drawn to oceanic, tidal, and solar energies that cause a movement of swell from one side of the planet to the other. They risk hypothermia daily, in order to slip along on one of these waves as it ends its journey.

The wave’s legacy is as short as its lifetime, the most dynamic and temporary canvasses on the planet. The Island folk brush stroke leaves a feather of paint that disappears only seconds after it’s application. Totally untraceable, wholly unique, and not of any traditional value.

I don’t know what to tell you. I still don’t understand their motivations. I don’t have enough time to think about it anymore. I’m usually stretching, pre-dawn. Getting ready for the ebb and flow of forty nine degree Olympian water to flood between rubber and skin. And when that critical time occurs between sets to push off and make the mile dash out to the florid and sweet sunken boil my concerns slip out to sea.

We may be remembered as the squishiest and softest species. Possibly the most terminal or totally destructive. We may be remembered for being possessed with wealth and maniacally chasing around pieces of pulp-ed trees. We may be remembered for having metal and rubber autobodies; exoskeletons that inevitably killed us. None of it may make a difference in the end. Not even black or sound or another lifeform to recount our sins.

But a group of people, a sub-genre of our species, have devoted their lives to embracing the land and oceans in the simplest way they can. This group of people we belong to are the outlandish undone threads of a Renaissance. Unbound by societal standards, adhering only to each other and the wild. Gliding across the open faces of striations from interceding planetary patterns. Actively avoiding income in search of something far more important. A group of aquatic allies who all understand the concept of Connectivity.

Broadcasting Live from Somewhere

2008-06-22T16:14:00.000-07:00

I recieved transmission at 0400 hours 22.06.08 concerning the shipment of highly coveted artifacts from the South. Highly volatile. The myth of Eldorado may prove true.