About a year ago I heard from a friend that her pepper tree had died in her backyard and that she and her husband wanted to do something with the wood. I sent over an arborist who cut the tree into slabs, they were placed under their house to dry, and I explained that it takes about a year for every inch of thickness to dry, so we would have to wait awhile to make a table. I also told them about some experiments I’d been doing, allowing wet wood to warp and deform as it’s inherent tension would create, and using those odd elements in traditional furniture. They were all for it. The materials of this piece are Pepper Wood, Elm, Ebony and Epoxy.
This tiny Kitchen was short on storage and had a 112º angle that made previous shelving ineficient and awkward. This hutch fits to the back of the wall to allow for mixers and blenders below, and the three sizes of mason jars, cups and plates above.
This bookshelf is for the room set aside from computers, laser cutters and CNC routers within Autodesk’s Artist In Residence program. I was asked to create something to showcase objects of inspiration, in a room for relaxation and contemplation. Instead of making the piece smaller so that the room’s light switch remained outside of the shelving, this piece creates the space for interaction and invitation, an opening where a person will put their hand between the assemblage of pillars each time they enter or leave the room. The goal was to create a relationship between the resident makers and the structures which support objects of contemplation. It is about creating a space for history while embracing the act of shedding light, and, conserving energy.
This walnut and steel credenza was made for Rhodium Group, a consulting firm that specializes in market and policy research related to climate change. I suggested a graphic of CO2 emissions to illustrate the scale of the emergency. The graph is from 1800 to 2013. The patina on the steel top and sides is an imaginary landscape that is only visible while standing directly above or in front of it. From a distance it disappears.
Elm Slices are thinly cut, 16′ x 2′ x 1/4″ pieces of wood with a burlap backing that can stand against a wall, fit in the corner of a room or hang from the ceiling. They are lightweight, solid and easily affixed to any surface. Cut from wet, newly salvaged urban trees, each slice is allowed to change shape as it dries, taking a shape that woodworkers normally try to to avoid. To build the angular stuff that becomes furniture we do everything we can to make and keep wood straight and flat, but these are different.
Each tree’s unique reaction to the subtleties of it’s habitat, the changing directions of grain that come from forces exerted by branches, or a slope, or wind direction create varying densities and internal tensions, and have the potential unfurl a flat piece of freshly cut wood into a dynamic, warping plane that tells a story of topography, like landscapes created by geologic time that are an alternative to the map like information of a board. Ideally, these pieces show an aspect of time that goes beyond the counting of rings, and the marks and coloring of a two dimensional surface. I hope they show the third and forth dimensions of wood’s honest transformation, from living thing, to record of life, when left to it’s own resources and unrestricted by the weight of the lumberyard and the heat of the kiln.