A triad of Deep Deck longboards in American elm, ready for trucks and wheels

I’ve been making small batches of my Deep Deck longboard in the background of other projects in the shop, laying up a new deck each day, trimming, sanding and finishing the previous day’s cured laminations. Making decks at this scale has been a pleasant, fairly effortless task, a good way to wind down from carving the crane before I sweep up and call it a day.

I burn my ‘deep’ logo onto the undersides of the decks, and stamp the species and date.

In the coming year, I plan to scale up my Deep Deck production, and hope my limited production prototypes will help to generate interest. I’ll continue to make the decks by hand, but in larger batches, which should be easy once I invest in a few key tools to speed production. The decks will be offered in dated, limited editions, sequenced from locally sourced logs that I mill and dry myself; the scale of each tree will determine the scale of each production.

My next batch of decks will come from a 100 year old white oak.

I recently purchased the log that will yield my first large production run of decks, a giant white oak that was felled for safety reasons on the property of a historic, one room schoolhouse in Healdsburg, CA. It’s likely the tree was planted adjacent to the Felta schoolhouse when it was constructed in 1906. I look forward to researching the site and posting more about its history as the wood dries after I mill it in early 2012.

The Felta schoolhouse, built in 1906 in Healdsburg, California

Tagged: deep craft, deep deck, innovation, longboard, scott Constable, skate deck, skateboard, woodworking

Two identical bases of green pecan, ready to receive the top, a giant slab of sycamore.

Whenever I design and make a new piece of furniture, I’m always keenly aware of how it will age, and how the piece might transform over time to encourage and support future, as yet unforeseeable patterns of use. I’ve been collecting choice local woods over the years, all neatly stickered in the barn, so my design process usually begins with rummaging through my piles for inspiration, making measurements and drawing directly onto the wood with white chalk. My primary criteria at this early stage is whether the piece of furniture I have in mind is the appropriate final destination for the wood- will it do the tree justice? I’ve always thought of my furniture as a way of extending the life of a tree, as a way of simultaneously storing and appreciating wood by putting it to good use; living daily life as an extension of making.

As I continue to collect and store local woods, and especially as I begin to mill trees myself, I’m becoming more attuned to the value of locally sourced, well-sawn, air-dried wood as a commodity. An increasingly scarce resource, fine wood is a good investment and increases dramatically in value, especially if it has the added cache of ecological responsibility, streaming from the urban forest, or as ‘horticultural salvage’. Because handmade furniture ultimately needs to compete in the marketplace with an increasingly sophisticated range of mass-market comparables, it can be challenging to offer a price point in proportion to the value of the material itself, which is a dilemma, even if the quality of the finished product is markedly higher. This is especially the case when ’studio furniture’ needs first and foremost to meet rigorous functional, as well as aesthetic requirements.

I milled grooves into the stickers for better air flow and to allow for movement.

While my way of thinking about wood-as-commodity has lived quietly in the background of most of my furniture design to date, I’ve been wanting do make a new body of work where the concept is front and center, both in the process of making and in the process of using the furniture. To this end, I’m grateful to my friend Cindy Daniel, who commissioned a ‘Community Table’ for Shed, her Healdsburg-based café/retail/community hub offering local foods, goods and quality wares. Shed is Cindy’s contemporary spin on the traditional country mercantile store, and I’ve enjoyed working with her over the past two years designing interior scenarios for the new building currently under construction, a large, open air metal structure designed by Mark Jensen.

My original thumbnail sketch for the Stickered Table

As much as my Community Table for Shed will serve as a gathering place in the café, it doubles as a process piece for the duration of the enterprise, establishing a kind of invented tradition. The table’s base consists of two nearly identical stacks of green pecan wood I recently milled from a dying tree, neatly stickered to allow the wood to naturally air-dry. The table’s top, a massive slab of sycamore, rests on top of the two piles, acting as a gravity clamp to keep the material from cupping. I milled V-grooves into the stickers to allow for better air flow and to decrease friction as the boards inevitably shrink. After one year, when the stock is adequately dry, the top will be lifted and the material removed and converted into functional wares for Shed, either to be used in the café or sold as product to customers. This first batch will likely make small table tops for the Shed café, slated to open in October 2012.. The two bases will then be re-constructed, stacked from freshly milled wood each year, that will in turn be made into a small production run of whatever item surfaces in the course of its drying.

I typically shellac and wax the ends of boards to prevent undo checking.

I like the idea of adding an element of ‘crowd-sourcing’ to the design development of an annual product, taking advantage of a constant flow of people gathered around the table while the material slowly cures beneath. I also look forward to maintaining an ongoing relationship with Shed as a kind of artisan-in-residence, collaborating with Cindy to design products that exemplify the Shed ethos.

Please click here to see the table with the top installed.

Tagged: appropriate technology, craft philosophy, deep craft, furniture design, green design, green woodworking, innovation, Jensen Architects, scott Constable, sculpture, Shed, slow design, sustainability, vernacular, woodworking

One of my few surviving drawings of trees from first and second grade

My fascination with trees and wood dates from early childhood, when I would spend hours staring at trees in different seasons and trying to draw them as accurately as I was able, carefully mapping every branch, leaf or blossom. I remember getting lost in the process, losing track of the actual tree in front of me and having to make up branching patterns, overwhelmed at the endless variety of mature, deciduous trees like white oak. I remember thinking how my decisions to make new branches looked a lot like the tree’s ‘decisions’, which got me thinking about whether or not trees had consciousness. I’m still not sure about this, but try my best to think about the shape of the tree when working with its wood, making decisions with which I know the tree would agree.

A giant eucalyptus I discovered on an island near the mouth of the Russian River

Tagged: consciousness, craft philosophy, deep craft, scott Constable, trees, woodworking

West-facing elevation of House of Tree

I’ve made just two visits to my recently completed House of Tree project and it already feels as though it’s always been there, or at least was always meant to be there. Climbing the 30 steps to the cabin, you wind around the inside of the tower, first facing South, then West, then North, entering onto the back porch after a final ascent to the East. The number of stairs of each climb is roughly in proportion to the scale of the landings they lead to, both increase in number and size, respectively, as you go up. It’s as though if you kept climbing you could reach the vast open sky, kind of how I always pictured happening in Jack and the Beanstalk. Indeed, entering the structure after winding up the tower has a magical effect; the height off the ground adds to the feeling and it’s easy to drop the cares of the world below once inside.

View to the South from the structure’s solitary ‘awning’ window

What makes treehouses of all kinds so universally lovable is that they are all essentially hermitages, places where we go to get away, or to reconnect in some way, usually beginning simply with the dream of being in a tree or of feeling protected in the forest. I designed House of Tree in collaboration with my client, who wanted a secret place to escape to. Its windows frame views of the redwood forest on three sides, with the Western elevation opening out to an apple orchard in a clearing to catch the afternoon sun. Though the cabin is just over 200 square feet, it’s easy to imagine spending a few days with spare provisions, without ever wanting or needing to touch ground.

Saint Tikhon of Kaluga

One of the more legendary tree-dwellers is Saint Tikhon of Kaluga, a 15th century Russian monk who lived in a hollow oak tree on the banks of the River Vepreika. A famous monastery and cathedral were eventually built on or near the site of his original hermitage, and a Feast Day is celebrated in his honor on June 16, the date of his death in 1492. I would love to see this date marked as a treehouse holiday in celebration of arboreal living.

Tagged: aesthetics, architecture, deep craft, saint tikhon, scott Constable, treehouse

sketch of my original concept for a stair tower within a mock, old growth redwood trunk

I still think of the new cabin I’m designing as a treehouse, even though it will be more of a house on stilts nestled in a fairly dense, second growth redwood grove, making no attachment to any tree. My original idea was to camouflage the structure by making the stair tower resemble an old growth trunk, consisting of coopered redwood timbers housing a spiral stair (see above drawing). For practical and economic reasons, we’ve opted instead for an open, timber framed stair tower, more like a fire watch, with more emphasis on the the interior experience of the perched cabin itself.

I’ve enjoyed researching watch towers and houses on stilts, and appreciate my client’s focus and resolve to keep the program as simple as possible. It’s been a wonderful collaboration and we’re close to having a design ready to permit and build. I’m especially thankful to be working with Scott Hunter, Ph. D. P.E., whose design recommendations have added to the minimalist/maximalist ethos of the project. Continue Reading »

Tagged: california coast, deep craft, heidegger, hut, scott Constable, treehouse, vernacular architecture, watch tower

Taking a break under a giant bluegum eucalyptus on Whitaker Bluff

The eucalyptus was planted extensively throughout California by Australians during the Gold Rush for use as timber. They mistakenly thought the wood to be well suited for railroad ties, but the trees took differently to the soil and tended to grow in spirals, the grain twisting when cured.

“They went on to note that the promise of eucalyptus in California was based on the old virgin forests of Australia. This was a mistake as the young trees being harvested in California could not compare in quality to the centuries-old eucalyptus timber of Australia. It reacted differently to harvest. The older trees didn’t split or warp as the infant California crop did. There was a vast difference between the two, and this would doom the California eucalyptus industry.”

Santos, Robert L. (1997). “Seeds of Good or Seeds of Evil?”. The Eucalyptus of California. California State University.

Ene, Aili and I have been enjoying cycling the ranch roads West of Petaluma, where the eucalyptus were planted in lines along ridges and roadways as windbreak. I’ve used the wood in several projects and love its grain character, though its hardness and twisted growth patterns make it difficult to work. Several years ago I developed a chair design (see below) that capitalizes on the inherent attributes of the wood, which I found well-suited to sliding dovetail joints and narrow dimensions, which are less prone to twisting.

The Euc Chair (1995), which I developed after the Oakland Hills fire, when there was an abundance of eucalyptus cut for fire breaks.

Tagged: california flora, craft, deep craft, green design, woodworking, wowhaus

Lake Merritt, looking towards the Northeast

James and I completed the lenticular murals yesterday by clear-coating them with a  protective, anti-graffiti glaze. Touching every square inch of the surface of the images reminded me how much the tiles have been handled over the past eight months, how much care has gone into realizing a hand made structure at this scale. It seemed an appropriate finale to wash them over with a final clear wash, kind of like a baptism.

At the end of the day I took a final reconnaissance tour of Lake Merritt as Ene and I think about designing a system of watershed markers for the City of Oakland. Lake Merritt has been my quiet obsession during the past month’s installation, and I continue to be fascinated with its impact on the culture of the city and its environment.

mapping the old oaks

This time around I took note of as many old oak trees as I could see from the pathways, and began to make a map of their positions relative to the lake and closest intersecting roads. I also took notice of a surprising number of churches surrounding the lake, and thought how we could potentially activate their congregations to help learn about the watershed and its natural/cultural ecology. Maybe a church could ‘adopt’ a stream or an old tree..

The Cathedral of Christ the Light in Oakland, CA

Tagged: deep craft, estuary, lake merritt, Oakland, scott Constable, watershed ecology, wowhaus