Antique Reproduction Indonesian Furniture

Learning to build furniture teaches lessons

All I wanted was a bathroom vanity. Instead, I discovered my inner craftsman. It started with the renovation of the master bedroom. The face lift would eliminate a couple of design flaws that existed in a home my wife, Bridgit, and I bought it in 1995. Gone would be the carpet in the bathroom (yuck). Gone would be the entry into the bedroom via the bathroom (awkward). We changed the floor plan by eliminating a small closet. After new tile was installed and paint was splashed on the walls, all that was left was the vanity. Picking one out would be as easy as cutting a miter joint — or so I thought. I had left an unusual space — 92 inches, to be precise — for the vanity, sandwiched between two walls. The sink had to be on the right side to hook up to the plumbing as I didn’t want to punch a hole into the drywall and reroute pipes. Trips to a few hardware stores were fruitless. Because of its odd size, a granite top, costing about $500, would have to be ordered. So would the cabinet itself. I couldn’t find what I needed, and I didn’t want to wait six to eight weeks for a special order. The more I looked, the more I thought, “Hey, I could build this.”

And I did, with the help of Ed Stirgus. I was introduced to my mentor about five years ago. It might as well have been 25. I hadn’t used a clamp, panel saw or jigsaw since building a bedroom set four years ago. That’s when I gave it up. I thought I was done. “You have to be teachable,” said Stirgus, a New Orleans native with 22 years of woodworking experience. “Skill level doesn’t matter. I always had a love for woodworking. In actuality, I couldn’t put two boards together. I never thought I’d be teaching it.” I never thought I could learn it … again. I found my old tool belt in the garage, strapped it on and got to work with Stirgus, who has a full complement of woodworking equipment, which he shares, along with his expertise, with friends working on specific projects. I drew blueprints and picked out wood at Plywood Hawaii — African mahogany. Dark. Rich. A nice contrast to the red oak bedroom set. It took about eight weeks, building twice a week, about eight hours on Mondays and a few hours another day. I bought a sink bowl and faucet — both in the clearance section at Home Depot — and hooked them up. The room was finished. My wife couldn’t be happier. We saved hundreds of dollars. The experience was priceless. Then it was on to the next project, a bookcase. Not just any bookcase, but one designed to look like a skyscraper. I went through the same drill. Drawing a blueprint. Picking out the wood, this time maple and African mahogany for a stunning color contrast. The hardware came from Lowe’s. About three months later I brought it home and filled it with the Stephen King book collection I’d designed it for. A perfect fit. I love the creative journey of working with one’s hands to build something that can be used for years. There’s great satisfaction in knowing, “I built this.” All it takes is confidence and imagination. And a knowledgeable mentor. Thankfully I found one. On this journey I have learned a few things about myself.

BE NOT AFRAID: I’m not a real handy guy, especially when it comes to power tools — table saws, routers, jigs. They’re scary. Noisy. Intimidating. Most have teeth. Plenty of teeth. Spinning. Fast. Very fast. Just one mistake … I won’t go there. Woodworking has taught me to overcome that fear, giving me confidence and teaching me how to use at least a half-dozen basic tools safely and properly. These are tools I never would have picked up otherwise. Linda Niino feels the same way. Stirgus has mentored her for six years. “I was useless with my hands,” she said. “When I told my husband (James) I was going to take up woodworking, he said, ‘Did you tell him (Ed) you knew nothing?’ He took me anyway.” Niino has built everything from an entertainment center to a china cabinet, to her own bedroom set. She’s going to build a night stand for her son, to go with the queen-size platform bed and chest of drawers she’s already built. She even builds furniture for the Department of Veterans’ Affairs’ annual craft fair in November. Proceeds benefit needy vets. A tansu she built a couple of years ago went for more than $800. “I knew what a hammer was, but I had never used any tools,” she said. “They were so intimidating. The table saw is scary. The key is you always have to respect the equipment.” Now, Niino carries a tape measure in her purse. And she says, “James buys me tools for my birthday.”

PURSUIT OF PERFECTION: “Measure twice. Cut once.” It’s a golden rule of carpentry, one I’ve broken repeatedly. But to my surprise, it’s OK. Woodworking allows for errors. At heart I’m a perfectionist. I want the perfect miter joint, my cuts exact, my squares square. Sometimes they’re not, but adjustments can be made all through the process, allowing for greater flexibility and creativity. Carpentry is more feel than figures. “Finish carpentry makes the eye work hard and skip over imperfections,” wrote Will Beemer at finehomebuilding.com. “Finish carpenters must develop an eye for proportion and detail. They must learn to visualize the steps that lead to the finished product.” My finished products aren’t perfect. I know my mistakes. But in many ways they are perfect for what I need.

WHOLE NEW WORLD: Furniture looks different now. At the mall. At my office. In other people’s homes. I notice the joints, the finish, the gaps between drawers. I have a greater appreciation for those who build everything from homes to buildings to, naturally, furniture. Especially furniture. I have a greater appreciation for detail — the color of the wood, the grain, the craftsmanship. And as I gaze at that cabinet or chair or bookcase, I wonder, “Can I build that?” Or, most often, “How did they build it?” The possibilities for new projects are endless. “Woodworking is so empowering,” said Niino. “It’s life transforming. Nothing is the same. You look at everything differently. You see the world through different eyes.” My eyes are now focused on a new project. Shoji-screen room dividers. Four panels. Inset etched glass. The possibilities are endless.