Nailed It

In a recent post, I recommended the book in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain by George Saunders. One of the short stories featured called “The Singers” by Turgenev helped me find a bit of clarity on some notions about furniture that I’ve had for some time.

*Spoiler Alert* “The Singers” tells of a contest in a country pub where a showy and practiced singer loses to a more crude but expressive one, whose intimate performance brings the stunned crowd to tears. I think about this story a lot and it’s portrayal of the power of expression, even amongst a group of rough and rowdy Russian peasants in a drab village in the mid 1800’s.

The story brought to mind this piece by Garry Knox Bennett. You might already be familiar with it… and the tempers it ignites.

It’s a well made piece of furniture with a nail pounded in the front, carelessly enough to be bent over. It begs the question “What the hell, Garry?!” But I think anyone who has ever build a time consuming, finicky piece from precious materials will relate to this urge. He let loose a coarse instinct and crude skill to express his frustration with the nature and value of the cabinet. Did he ruin it? Is it a childish gesture? Maybe, but if I saw this piece with no nail in it, my only interest would be a vague wonder at the construction and whether it would hold my collection of ashtrays. But with the nail, I love this piece and it’s lived in my head for years because it assaults the notion that woodworking has a single destination towards furniture valued for it’s technical achievement and exclusivity.

Bennett is playing the roles of both singers in the short story. He demonstrates his chops as a craftsman and then challenges expectations by stepping from behind the scenes with an unrestrained expression. It’s shouting that there’s more potential to the craft than polished wood and good joinery.

I make things in wood, but if I’m being honest, I’ve fallen out of love with wood objects. It’s become hard for me to care, and I think it’s one of the best things to happen to me. Because even as a more reticent viewer and maker, I’m often delighted and challenged by objects that demonstrate how alive woodwork can be.

In future posts, I’m going to focus on some work I admire and why I think it adds up to more than just materials and techniques. The choices and instincts of the maker are intimate expressions and while I could follow their processes and emulate their final product, I know it’s merely a thin impression. Picasso, who copied other artists throughout his career, said something akin to, “Try to create like another, you will fail, and that is where you will glimpse yourself”.

I may be a curmudgeon, but when I see work I wish I could create, I still swoon like a Russian peasant.