Been out of town the past ten plus days, hence the lack of new material here. Attended my brother’s wedding and sister’s graduation. Here are a couple of photos representative of the trip:

We drive home tomorrow and I’m glad there’s nothing travel-related on the schedule at this point until December. It’s been a very busy Spring.

I just learned of San Francisco startup Ponoko via TechCrunch. I’m still trying to understand the details, but the concept rocks.

From what I can tell so far this is the premise. Upload your design for a product and Ponoko, which has a factory in San Francisco, will make it for you. You can sell your blueprints for other people to make and can also use the website to market your designs, which Ponoko will build and ship to you to ship to the purchaser — at least that’s how I’ve understood the process up to this point. The home page of their website shows links that direct to Your own personal factory (”How to make”) or and an Online showroom (”How to sell”).

They claim the process of on demand creation will cut down on the waste of overproduction, and also grants the desires of shoppers who may not find exactly what they are after in the aisles of big box retailers, lined with mass produced products. A service definitely worth checking out. I might try it out and see if I can’t successful plug my table design which I referred to earlier this week.

Not ceramics or sculpture this time, but furniture. My brother asked me to build a bed; he gets married this coming weekend. As a wedding gift I’m throwing in some side tables to match.

I like building furniture, but don’t make a habit of it since I really don’t have the necessary space or tools. I have friends with table-saws, but my garage is narrow and the ceiling short. Somehow I manage, but the tables above aren’t as square as I’d like. The door I’m currently using as my workbench top is anything but level. For clay this is fine; not so much for building beds. Of course, only I, the builder, will ever notice such details.

This is soft maple, which I haven’t used before — at least not on this scale. It responds pretty nicely to the tools, but I’m learning it doesn’t take stain very well. This has become problematic as my brother and his fiance are adamant about a dark stain. It was hard enough to find maple in the first place. They would have been OK with another wood, but I kept looking and finally found a place here in Northwest Arkansas that sells hardwoods other than oak and poplar. So I ran with the maple.

The other trick will be transporting it to Nebraska, where the wedding is and bride and groom reside. The pieces should just fit in our Camry wagon as I’ve measured. But paying for shipping didn’t seem like a reasonable option in this case.

I like my design for the side tables. The small shelf underneath the top acts to reinforce the legs, and essentially “floats” in notches I carved by hand. The hand-carving went really well, much better than in the past thanks to some better tools and more experience under my belt. I also mortised and tenonned the legs and footboard more or less by hand. I like working when I can without the aid of powered machines. I don’t have anything against a table saw or drill press (both of which I’ve used for this project), but there is something much more rewarding about taking a chisel and mallet in your hands and working the wood.

The tops of the table, as well as the stone detail in the center stile of the headboard as pictured above, will be travertine marble.

The Guild is a very professional looking website that sells artists’ art. I was glad to see they offer a variety of ceramic works. Via TechCrunch, who reports that the “Madison, Wisconsin based The Guild bills itself as the ‘leading source for artist-made home décor products shipped direct from artists’ studios to customers’ homes nationwide.’”

A green remodel in D.C. Real Estate agent Amy Levin remodeled a historic home in Washington’s Mt. Pleasant neighborhood, and is hoping for a platinum certification from LEED. While gutting the house, she uncovered a hidden fireplace which is now the centerpiece of her living room, as shown in Heidi Glenn’s following photograph from NPR.

[The photograph mentioned above has been removed per the request of a representative of NPR. I didn't expect this at all, especially since I made a specific effort to give credit to the photographer. This is a personal web diary of my own, and from what I understand I was in the right despite NPR's protest. Regardless, I have no desire to argue over such details with the blind, "old media" and removed the photo immediately. I'm very disappointed, however, in NPR's reaction to what was basically free publicity. Do the marketing and legal departments not talk to each other in their organization?

The NPR rep offered up a "passive link" in place of the photo, which is amusing on a number of levels, not the least of which is that this post already contained such a link. Further, if I recall correctly this isn't the first time I've used an image from NPR's website. Oh well. Eventually big media will realize they won't be able to fight the changes the internet is making to information creation and dissemination. A reminder of this from an older TechCrunch post:

"Societal ideals around what constitutes ownership over art are changing. People who try to protect and silo off their work are simply being ignored. Those that embrace the community, and give back to it not only allowing but asking for their work to be mashed up, re-used and otherwise embraced are being rewarded with attention. At the core is a basic implicit understanding - if you want to be part of the community, you have to give back to it, too."

I expressed my strong disappointment in a reply to NPR's email. We'll see if they respond. Also see a post of mine from December on the ownership of art (photography, in this case) along a similar vein.]

An interesting excerpt from the story:

Green means easy on energy, durable and efficient, but not necessary natural. There are many synthetic materials throughout Levin’s home.

“There are some natural materials that are very appropriate for use in 21st century houses, but there is a lot of neat stuff we’ve made, particularly as it relates to energy efficiency, that does a better job than Mother Nature does,” Yost says.

Of all of the green virtues, the greenest is durability, he says. For people looking to build more environmentally friendly homes, Yost advises installing something that lasts a lifetime and consumes less energy, rather than something that’s more efficient in the short run but must be replaced several times.

I personally hope for the best of all worlds: Natural materials, durability and sustainability.

Today is one of two weeks of cleanup performed by the city in Siloam Springs. Place anything you want to dispose of by the road and by Friday it is supposed to have disappeared, carried off either by the official crane-truck or by citizens hunting for treasures.

And there are some treasures. Two houses down from my own were two pieces of furniture that caught my eye, one a decent looking table top. Both were gone within hours of being placed roadside. I didn’t even wander down to examine them after thinking about the storage nightmare they would create — this on a weekend I spent cleaning and organizing. In fact the pile in front of that particular house dwindled down to almost nothing before being restocked this morning with a beastly, legless pool table among other odds and ends.

This post, however, refers to the darker side of the twice annual junk-fest. I couldn’t help but think of the wasteful society we live in as I passed by pile after pile of stuff. Regular readers know this rant already. In our mass-producing, mass-consuming culture little consideration is given to how many of these trinkets will end up in landfills. With the environmental movements of recent years this is changing to a degree, but very slowly.

Take the chair in the above photograph for instance. We’ll ignore its lack of aesthetic appeal in this particular dialogue. First off it’s not in that bad of shape. Why is it being thrown away; did the owners trade up? The dog got a hold of one corner and the fabric is a bit faded, but most college students would love to have this in their dorm room. So it might be missing its feet; what are bricks and two-by-fours for!

I can imagine, just by the looks of it, that is a cheap chair — like so much factory fare in our day and age. The company’s bottom line drives design and choice of materials. Everything has to be as inexpensive as possible in order to maximize profits to pad the CEO’s bonus and keep the shareholders happy. Further, the shorter the life-span of a gadget or appliance the sooner it will need to be replaced, thereby ensuring future sales for the company — so long as they can create brand loyalty and/or attract new buyers.

Can’t companies come up with ways to create more enduring products and still make money (Or do we first need to get them to agree to make less money?). Do consumers need to be convinced it’s worth it to spend a little more for a chair or dining room table (or house, for that matter) that possesses some staying power?

A brief conversation with a good friend last night brought to mind a topic my wife and I happen upon with some regularity: The sedentary nature of so many of our modern workplaces — namely sitting at a desk in front of a computer for most if not all of the workday — is detrimental to our health, both mentally and physically.

I knew going into my current job I would be challenged by the amount of non-mobile hours; I knew it was a desk job. Nonetheless, I counted the cause worthy of the challenge and have found myself behind a desk for the better part of the last three years or so. I continue to like many aspects of the work and don’t regret my decision, and it hasn’t been as restless an experience as I feared. This, however, depends largely on my day to day schedule. The types of activities I find myself engaged in more or less determine whether or not a day feels productive or drags on and on and on.

Days when I’m in the office by myself are almost guaranteed to be long and feel unproductive. As an extrovert, I most certainly get my energy from being around other people. Eight hours alone in an office — even with NPR in the background — isn’t something I look forward to. My aforementioned friend was surprised to find himself in a similar situation after his company moved into a new building last year. The new structure is basically filled with cubicles. By contrast, his old workspace was intentionally communal, he told me, with desks out in the open and facing each other. He misses the personal contact which fostered, between he and his fellow graphic designers, a creative dialogue that spurred them on in their work. The move to cubicles was not advantageous for the company.

My own office space also lacks windows. There is a reason, believe it or not, people in the movies and comic strips covet corner offices with broad banks of windows. First off, we need sunlight to survive, let alone thrive and achieve peak production (which is what our CEOs are all about, right?). When I stand up to stretch, which isn’t often enough, I gravitate towards the vacant rooms with windows. One of these, the one with the best view of the western sky, is now rented unfortunately. It’s beyond me as to why office spaces are built without windows, or at the very least employ some way to get natural light into interior rooms.

All of this to say that eight-hour-a-day desk jobs seem inherently incompatible with the way humans were designed to operate and thrive. The ramifications of such idle careers are obvious: Obesity and other physical problems related to inactivity, eye strain and resulting headaches from computer monitors, and a recent article I came across suggested evidence that linked hemorrhoids to inactive lifestyles.

Any ideas on how to restructure the business world to allow for a more natural, if you will, corporate culture?

I happened upon the website of woodworker J. Alexander this morning and thought it warranted props and a link. Basically, the guy builds custom furniture. Here’s a screenshot from his gallery:

What I found noteworthy on this website were a couple of blurbs on the information page, speaking to our generally bland, homogenous, mass-produced visual culture:

Finishing Process

The finishing process is what makes a custom piece of furniture really stand out from its mass produced counterpart. There are no short-cuts around here. Each item is painstakingly finished to accentuate the beauty of the wood and ensure its overall durability.

Cost

Custom furniture is of course more expensive than a lower-end mass produced item, but when compared to high-end brands such as Ethan Allen, Thomasville, and others, my prices are usually very competitive. On top of that, your funiture will have been painstakingly created by hand by a local craftsman.

Kudos to the handmade, to enduring functional (and/or decorative) objects worth keeping around for generations. My great grandfather built two library tables — among many other objects — during his lifetime, either of which I’m sure anyone in my family would love to end up with one day. He crafted a base for one; for the other, my grandfather — his son — hand-carved legs in the shape of elephant heads, the trunks supporting the tabletop, a few years back. Both are beautifully and intricately inlaid, the one in my father’s possession having as a focal point a detailed rose.

I am equally passionate about fine art and craft, about decoration and abstraction. I am equally thrilled to think about and be involved in architecture, interior design, crafts and the tactile arts.

What I mean by architecture is the design and execution of structures such as homes, offices and civic buildings. Architecture is a very “well-rounded” profession requiring knowledge of a wide variety of disciplines and crafts. Successful design and execution of structures makes use of craft and decoration.

What I mean by interior design is the design and execution of interior spaces, making use of finish materials (wall coverings, floor coverings, moldings) and furniture. Architecture and interior design often overlap. Successful interior design makes use of craft and decoration.

When I refer to the tactile arts, I am referring to paintings, sculptures, ceramics, prints (as in printmaking, not digital reproductions) and so on. These are commonly referred to as the fine arts as well. I specifically refer to them as the tactile arts to distinguish digital art from hand-made, three dimensional art. The tactile arts regularly make us of decoration, and hopefully employ good craft.

What I mean by craft is “to make or manufacture an object with skill and careful attention to detail.”

I write all of this in a manner of thinking out loud. I don’t personally know how to reconcile my interest in so many distinct visual activities. I would love to find a way to be equally involved in all of them, designing homes — inside and out, working in my studio to create both abstract sculpture and functional furniture. Could I make such a thing financially viable, make it into a business? Would I want to?

Last night I listened to a discussion among friends. They pondered out loud the definition of art, the importance of craft and the validity of abstraction. It was pointed out that Frank Lloyd Wright’s wonderful designs were often poorly executed. Craft is vital. In culture today craft is second class. Whether on account of our impatience, profit-driven mass manufacturing or an imprudent priority given to concept over product, objects in America these days are more often than not cheaply made. I’d like to see this change in the midst of good design, great concepts. I’d like to see well-built, enduring architecture and furniture, with imaginative and prophetic sculpture and painting on the walls and in the yards of homes and public structures.

And I’d like to be a part of that renaissance, somehow.

My wife and I are house hunting. Even though we presently own a mortgage on a little bungalow in Siloam Springs, this is the first time that we’ve actually house-hunted. We more or less fell into the house we live in now.

So I called an acquaintance — who happens to be a realtor in the town we figure we’ll end up in — and she sent us a list of 37 properties within the broad parameters I set: Between 50,000 and 78,000, a basement (which most homes in this town have anyway) sans mold or must for a clay studio, and at least two bedrooms. We would prefer an older home for the character and the location, that being closer to downtown.

Yes, this is a hideous room, but it’s also a great example of trim and built-ins that you won’t find in newer homes.

It was quite a chore winnowing the list down to 19 decent possibilities. Many of these listings don’t have interior photographs on their MLS internet listing making it difficult to levy any judgement. Of these 19, I suggested our realtor friend start by answering questions on the five best possibilities.

Of course, my own favorite wasn’t in the list that she sent me. It’s a little higher priced (when you add Nebraska’s insane property taxes into an escrow) than we really want at this point in life. And it might be under contract now anyway.

I remember hearing comments from some of my friends about the process of purchasing a home and how this was a “scary” proposition. I couldn’t empathize with them at that point, since we just “fell into” our current bungalow, and while the prospect of moving across states and sifting through home listings is certainly a chore it is also fun.

“Have fun!” our realtor wrote in her email to us. There is undoubtedly an adventure in the prospect of change, inherent in moving.

The glass block in this remodeled kitchen is a great idea.

We’ve found, though not to our surprise, that we both have certain aesthetic standards driving this search. There are practical homes that are affordable and there are cute homes that are affordable. Why would anyone choose the practical (read “boring,” or “uninteresting”) if the homes and neighborhoods are comparable?

Adding: We don’t have cable TV, but whenever we’re traveling we seem to catch some of the Home and Garden channel. At least one of the shows, probably more, teaches viewers how to stage a home for sale. Most of it seems like common sense to me: Clean everything very well, don’t leave projects unfinished, tend the yard. However, I guess it’s not always such sense. Some of the listings we’re going through violate all of these rules. Some of them have terrible colors, others horrid furniture and one photo even shows dishes in the sink and a clutter of magnets on the fridge — and the house is supposedly vacant! Such things are certainly a turn-off, even though we know in our heads the furniture doesn’t stay and paint is easy to change.

I’ve been asking myself a question this past week:

What, in my own life, holds the greater potential influence to foster an artistic renaissance in the American Church: Working as a full-time artist or working as a professor in a BFA program at a Christian college?

Unfortunately, this isn’t really quantifiable. I asked a friend this weekend, a design professor, what he thought of my predicament. He prefaced his answer by saying it’s a loaded question to which he’d give a loaded answer, and proceeded to say that working as a professor brings you into contact with a lot of people in a short period of time. He then suggested I would be a very good prof for reasons x, y and z. My friend then cited local Christian painter Todd Williams saying he makes a good living for himself but doesn’t necessarily exert a lot of influence in the way I desire to.

This may suggest the role of teacher holds greater promise for change in the Christian community, but it’s by no means certain. While I know nothing of Williams’ intent, his website openly states that he’s not out for notoriety as an artist. Neither am I — save for the fact that the more well-known an artist is the more opportunity they’ll likely see to be involved in reforming the culture around us for the better. In this there is an enigmatic tension between narcissistic self-promotion and self-defeating humility. An artist has to market him or herself.

Should I even be asking myself this? Is the answer different for different people? If my intent is to influence does it matter which I do?

I’m worried that I’ll choose the easier of the two options, but I don’t know which option is easier. Teaching — which requires a costly degree up front (assuming you aren’t able to get a decent fellowship) — offers more reliable and steady income and thus might be easier in the long-run. Working as an artist might be easier in the here and now assuming I begin by building up a portfolio while continuing to work an eight-to-five during the days.

I wonder if I’m destined to be an ignoble pot (read Romans chapter nine, verses 20-21), living comfortably but never making an opportunity to step out into either of these options. Is accepting a more ignoble role the same as humility, or is it the same as ignoring your God-given gifts?

A lot of other thoughts are playing into the banter inside my head:

• What about my idea for a Christian artist retreat?

• How does my present role as a mission mobilizer play into this decision?

• Is it a viable idea to work to raise up a healthy art community in a small town?

• Can my wife and I find a place where both of us are accepted into graduate programs with fellowships?

• Is an MFA in studio art the best option for someone like me, whose interest extends to architecture and interior design?

Unfortunately there aren’t any easy answers. No doors are opening or swinging shut to indicate one idea is better than another. This may still happen in the next couple months; my present job situation isn’t sustainable past December at this point, forcing a decision in the very near future.

We press on. We try to wait patiently. We brainstorm for new ideas, which come all too slowly.