A bevy of brunching bovine braved Dylan’s dangerous dunes, ingesting invasive Ice Plants (Carpobrotus edulis), already beginning to bloom.
The Ice Plant (Carpobrotus edulis), an invasive succulent, poses a serious threat to biodiversity.
{ Monthly Archives: February 2009 }
Uber Old School
I’m making a longboard skateboard deck as my first experiment with forming elm into complex contours. I like thinking of the deck’s shape as continuing in the evolution of the morphology of weapons pictured above (not because they are weapons but because they have a common ancestor in the stick, or branch).
My plan is to cut two identical shapes from a rough cut board of quarter-sawn elm. I’ll press the laminates over a curved form while the glue sets to give the deck some camber for more strength and ‘bounce’, then I’ll hand shape the deck to its final form, mount trucks and wheels and give it a spin. I’d love to hear from anyone, especially skateboarders, for tips and comments.
Laying out the longboard deck laminates on quater-sawn elm (Ulmus hollandica)
Windsor Redux
“Windsor”, wood burning on oak veneer by Joshua Miner III
I’ve always loved traditional Windsor chairs, as much for their structural invention as for their comfort, durability and elegance. The general form evolved regionally throughout the UK in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Many speculate that the chair originated as a byproduct of the charcoal-making industry, and were collectively manufactured by itinerant woodsmen who seasonally managed woodlots and copses. These woodsmen, or bodgers, would work with simple tools- axes, froes and pole lathes- to make a range of products directly from the forest including wagon wheels, rakes, pitchforks and woven ‘wattle’ for fencing and house construction.
Each tree would yield a product unique to its material attributes. Some woods were easily split, some bent when steamed and some, like elm or oak, were remarkably tough and were sawn into boards.
from “The Seasons and the Woodman” by D. H. Chapman
Each process of manufacture would require a distinct set of tools and skills. The early Windsor chairs synthesized many of these into one form, and were typically made by many hands, often geographically disparate. The ‘hub’ of the Windsor chair, its major structural component, is the seat itself, which supports the legs, backrest and armrests as well as the sitter. Typically made of elm, the seat of a traditional Windsor chair best demonstrates this wood’s structural attributes- it is exceedingly difficult to split, is dimensionally stable, and its cell structure binds fibers across the grain. Elm shapes well, and a board can be carved thin and still manage to support a load across a relatively wide span.
I’m beginning to experiment with a contemporary reinterpretation of the Windsor chair, starting with a series of tests press-forming thin laminations of elm into complex contours.
Ultralight Treepod
Spending time among trees helps in my thinking as I develop a portable, ultralight treepod to use as a dwelling during my residency at Mildred’s Lane. Like a folding kayak, the unit would disassemble, packing into two backpacks to be brought to remote sites. The treepod would have integral solar panels on the roof, and would harvest rainwater for an outdoor shower and collapsible, fabric sink inside.
Among the Redwoods
Sequoia sempervirens
Spending time among the Northern California coastal redwoods can be equally inspiring and disquieting. The trees have a presence that exceeds their scale in both time and space. The forests are supremely silent, supporting little habitat for creatures that produce sound. The redwoods exude a boundless patience and wisdom; they are perfectly adapted to their surroundings, taking most of their sustenance from the sea fogs that breathe in and out off the Pacific and shape the contours of the forest edge.
Few things compare to being in a redwood forest during a heavy fog, when the trees come to life and break the silence after a silent day of uneasy stillness. Just before dusk, the temperature drops as a Gaussian smudge of silver grey floats down through the branches, depositing shiny pearls of water droplets on the needles. The trees’ downward-sloping branches curl upwards slightly at the tips, seeming to fan their needles to catch more of the sweet condensation. Within minutes, the droplets fall around the trunks, raining a cascade of cool spray into the thick duff underfoot. The earth offers a musty note to the dry needle’s resinous odor as the ground soaks up the water harvested by the web of glistening branches overhead.
As dark sets in, the rain-fog gets louder, with larger drops punctuating the white noise in a panorama of muffled drumbeats. The saturated ground completes the circuit of moisture; the atmosphere cools into a Northern humidor. Soon is heard a slow, low hissing as the tree trunks audibly suck up the new groundwater.
The Week in Bloom
Mustard (Brassica juncea)
Bright yellow mustard riots in rows of south-sloping vineyards nearby. Meanwhile, wild honey bees have descended upon our Camelias, now drowsily drooping and dropping to the ground in earnest.
In the garden the favas are in full boom and look healthier than last year, having improved the soil:
Vicia faba
Level at Rest
Level at Rest
I’m beginning to collect unbuilt chair ideas I’ve developed over the past few years in anticipation of designing a chair to make during my residency at Mildred’s Lane this summer. The chair will be used in new student housing and will be site-generated around parameters outlined in my evolving manifesto. In keeping with the radical frontier spirit of the project, Mildred’s Chair will be a rocker, made entirely of materials from the land surrounding Mildred’s Lane. I’ll also construct a simple field shop where the chair can be made by others in the future, anticipating improvements in the design over time.
The chair above does not resemble the chair I have in mind for the project, but it is a good study of how a rocking chair could function. I call it ‘Level at Rest’, and it grew out of my idea to make a parabolic headrest to amplify evening sounds. The form was inspired by lifeguard stands and lifeboats on the South Jersey shore, with a white-washed upper and a darker base, painted level with the ground when the chair is at rest, like a waterline. I plan to build a small family of these rockers as soon as I can find the right client.