The following text accompanies an installation I made as part of the NOMO Exhibition we’ve designed and curated as the culmination of our residency at Kohler Arts. Over the past few weeks I’ve made fictional, yet plausible sculptural elements that support the idea that surfing has origins on the Great Lakes. I will provide more detail soon about the NOMO Exhibition, but here’s a preview of my “Legend of Lumberjack Surfing” installation:

The Legend of Lumberjack Surfing

“There is a little known legend that surfing has early 19^th century origins on the Western shores of Lake Michigan, separate from its more ancient roots on the islands of the South Pacific.

When timber rafts were floated down Wisconsin’s rivers to be shipped to far off urban centers, large slabs of wood occasionally broke loose along the lake and washed ashore. Enterprising lumberjacks and boat-builders often rescued the timbers by drifting them offshore, standing atop them and paddling them to beachfront workshops, occasionally attaching sails to ease the journey. When the surf was heavy, the maritime lumberjacks beached the timbers by riding waves to shore, steering with a long wooden paddle. Over time, the activity of riding waves became an end in itself, and the ‘lumberjack surfers’ learned to shape the rough sawn planks for better performance in the waves.

By the early 20^th century, the ‘lumberjack surfers’ adapted wooden boards to ride on land by attaching crude wheels to their undersides, thus inventing an early form of the skateboard. Many of these ‘trapper’s skateboards’ were made from stretchers originally used to tan wolf hides. By the middle of the 20^th century, experimental skateboards were commonly made from discarded, wooden alpine and water skis, which were rapidly being replaced by fiberglass.”

Another part of the NOMO Exhibition at Kohler Arts features longboard skate graphics I designed collaboratively, like the Northern Pike Longboard (above) drawn by Mary Whitehall and Zak Worth. The burnt/etched deck is part of a series depicting fish native to Lake Michigan

Tagged: appropriate technology, bike culture, contemporary art, craft philosophy, deep craft, DIY, furniture design, green design, innovation, kohler arts, longboard, public art, scott Constable, skateboard, slow design, surfing, sustainability, tall tale, traditional craft, vernacular architecture, woodworking, wowhaus

Sayulita, Nayarit, Mexico

Spending time in Sayulita always restores my faith in humanity. For whatever combination of reasons- its remoteness through jungle along the Pacific Coast, cut-off from major roads until relatively recently; its consistently overhead, left/right break; its laid back balance of bohemian surf culture and traditional fishing village- everyone is unabashedly happy in Sayulita. Like guests at a well-hosted party, everyone has a unique role to play, the machinery oiled by mutual trust and respect. When the ‘little things’ that comprise daily life take precedence over the ‘big things’ outside our control, everyone takes charge. When the inverse is the case, the opposite is true.

‘Le Corbusier meets Gilligan’s Island’ characterizes the playful architecture of Sayulita

Tagged: longboard, sayulita, scott Constable, surfing, vernacular

At a certain scale, production woodwork requires a lot of time spent physically sorting and grading material, then processing it through a sequence of noisy machinery. It can be dull, monotonous work, but I still get a thrill watching grain patterns emerge and generally enjoy the physical labor as a kind of meditation. I find it helps to begin a day of milling wood with an exercise I call balancing the brain. In the past, this has taken the form of a commute by bicycle to my shop, or practicing Tai Chi. Lately, I’ve been spending a few minutes each morning juggling and relearning to ride a unicycle, both familiar activities from my youth. The activity reminds me to be present and aware of my stance, which protects me from injuries associated with repetitive motion, and helps keep me safe and sound when working with dangerous tools.

I love my salvaged, battered unicycle and antique wooden juggling pins

Tagged: craft philosophy, deep craft, juggling, scott Constable, unicycle, woodworking

My projects always begin with sorting the pile, touching the wood

Like cooking, working with wood engages all of the senses in symphony. Touch plays a major role in the early stages of a project, especially at the scale of fitting out the interior of a new building, like the Guest House that now requires my full attention and has my workshop maxed out to capacity. The start of my New Year has me managing stacks of Deodar Cedar I’ve had custom milled and air-dried for the project, and my days have been resplendant with re-organizing and grading the raw material, which I last saw as logs about a year ago.

After delivery, I estimate I handle each piece of milled wood at least five and up to ten plus times prior to installation, and I learn a little about how best to use each stick every time it passes through my hands. In many ways, this is my favorite part of the process, the most automatic, as the material practically grades itself into distinct piles based upon my assessment of touch, which leads naturally to visual patterning. Handling each stick gives me an understanding of where it lived on the tree, its structural integrity, moisture and resin content, which all informs how the wood will age when used daily in a home. Over the years, I’ve trained my hands to be the advance guard on seeing the wood and its color and grain, and I’ve learned to trust my sense of touch over my sense of sight when grading wood.

Ultimately, the logic of grading wood by touch informs how one interacts with the finished piece. Simply put, horizontal surfaces are designed for durability and a depth of grain that gains character over time, like a familiar path; vertical surfaces are designed for daydreaming, like clouds.

Tagged: aesthetics, craft philosophy, deep craft, innovation, scott Constable, slow design, vernacular architecture, woodworking

nearly ripe Hachiya Persimmon, ready to be peeled and hung to dry

Looking up at the persimmon tree’s wild constellation of fruit still languidly dangling, you’d hardly know we already picked over two bushels for drying. Ene recently discovered the Japanese art of Hoshigaki, a technique of drying fruit by a combination of open-air hanging and hand massaging. The fruit is picked before it fully ripens, with a section of branch left attached, then it is peeled and hung for several weeks, gently squeezed daily after a skin develops; the massaging brings out the sugars. Our studio is rimmed with drying persimmon, adding to the season’s festive atmosphere.

peeled persimmon are hung to dry, still attached to the branch

our Hachiya Persimmon tree is still loaded with fruit

Tagged: california flora, deep craft, DIY, gardening, hoshigaki, persimmon, phenology, slow food, traditional craft

This time of year we produce a steady supply of ash from our wood-burning stoves, our primary source of heat. I get an odd thrill from collecting the ash and putting it to use. Ash from hardwood is very fine, with an almost soapy consistency. It’s loose but sort of coagulates, clustering as though magnetic or statically charged. I’m very curious about the material and have been enjoying collecting ideas for its uses. Here are several:

• compost enrichment
• fertilizer (especially for tomatoes)
• snail deterrent
• deodorizer (in the chicken coop)
• add water to make lye for soap
• glass cleaner
• silver cleaner

I’d love to hear of any other ideas for how to use wood ash.

Tagged: appropriate technology, deep craft, green design, sustainability, wood ash

Hachiya persimmon are ripening early this year

The raccoons have commenced their furtive nighttime raids on the persimmon tree, whose fruits are prematurely ripe by a few weeks. We’re still trying to figure out how best to use the hundreds of Hachiya persimmon produced by our single tree each winter, and have been picking and ripening the fruit before the raccoons strip the tree bare. The past few years we waited until the persimmon were dropping, soft and syrupy on the branches, and we’d slice them in half, freeze the halves and serve them as a deliciously slushy dessert with fresh lime between Christmas and the New Year. Still, we ate only a small percentage of the fruit, the rest fattened the raccoons, grosbeak and orioles. This year I plan to experiment with boiling down the ripened persimmon to make a sweet, colorful syrup, but remain open to any other suggestions.

making wreaths

Ene and Aili have been making wreaths this year with friends from our various holly trees, whose berries have also ripened early. It’s wonderful to see such value added to our annual prunings; the trees benefit while Ene sends beautiful homemade wreaths as gifts to family for Christmas. Making wreaths is a great model for the kind of nonchalant agriculture we seem well suited to practice, and we hope to continually develop the property by encouraging beneficial loops and a gift economy. Continue Reading »

Tagged: aesthetics, california coast, california flora, craft philosophy, deep craft, DIY, gift economy, Hachiya persimmon, phenology, slow food, sustainability