My studies in poetry led me right into woodworking.  (Yes, you read that right.  Nope, no misprint there.)  Just imagine a world in which writing sonnets makes you think of tongue and groove boards, and internal rhyme reminds you of biscuit joints.  That’s my world–welcome.  I had finished writing my Master’s thesis, a long collection of my poetry whose title I can’t remember at the moment, and the next thing I felt like doing was building kitchen cabinets.  I didn’t even have my own kitchen (I lived in a rental), and yet it was such a strong urge that my rolled-up Master’s diploma was still flattening under a dictionary when I enrolled in a furniture-making class at a local community college.  I learned how to mortise-and-tenon, carve dovetails, use poll clamps, and plane boards in a fancy Italian planing machine.  It was loud and messy and the biggest relief.

Building furniture is a lot like writing poetry.  A stand-alone, self-encapsulating thing that I painstakingly construct, shape, see how it fits into its form, then polish till it’s smooth and shiny.  It can take an afternoon, or it can take weeks.  I take care with the details, make tweaks, take a little off here and there, tap and punctuate it so it’s strong and beautiful.  Wood and words are incredibly similar.

And you can probably guess where woodworking led me.  Yep, right to the sewing machine.  Fabric and words are also incredibly similar, though sewing, for me, has a narrative quality, as quilts can tell stories, and spools of thread go on for a long time, like novels.  So, sewing led me to write stories.  Which led me to photography (kind of like books can lead to the film version…?), which was an easy side-step into the realm of painting and drawing, where I find myself sketching chairs I’d like to upholster, and tables I’d like to build out of…wood.  Which is where I am today, full circle.  Well, not a circle exactly, but a rounded, windy, amorphous closed figure.

And just as I learned in my poetry classes, form follows meaning.  It comes after the words and ideas are on the page.  First, spit it all out, then see what you’ve got.  And so my skills, my crafty sensibilities, have followed suit–I’ve spit them all out (I think…maybe there are more?), and they have come together and shown me what they are:  design.  What a beautiful word.  So perfectly vague, yet with enough verb-action implied in it that folks get an idea.  ”So, you could sew me some custom curtains for my living room?”  Yes.  ”Could you design me a shelving unit for a wall–maybe build and install it?”  Yes, and yes.  ”Can you help me pick out paint colors for my new apartment?”  Definitely…that’s one of my favorites.

I’m still learning–in fact, a wall-shelving unit might be a little advanced for me till I get (and brush up on) the right tools.  I’m planning on taking interior design courses once my schedule allows for it.  And I’m in the process of building a shop in which I can do said woodworking, upholstering, sewing, and designing.  Because right now I’m upholstering in my living room, and sewing at my computer desk.  All of these steps I am excited to share with you–especially now that you’re caught up to speed on things, craft-wise.

I was going to add some photos to this post, because I love writing with illustrations.  But that is coming.  All of this is coming along in good time.