~~|~~ Woodworkers' Co-op: Fine One-of-a-kind Handmade Furniture, Items

J E F F L E B E G U E

I like building things, and being around others who are building things, and have liked this from a very young age. One morning in rural Tennessee (I think that I was quite young, maybe four years years old) when my father, a carpenter, left for work for the day, and he didn't ask me to do the usual thing and come along with him. I did the very childish thing of standing behind the front door, and crying, in order the get the attention of my parents (specifically my father) because I liked to go to work, and sweep up piles of sawdust and wood shavings. I still like it now, a few decades later. Even sweeping up the shop can be part of the process of making something that I find so enjoyable. And I do prefer the process - the chaos of it, and the necessity to somehow convoke order from that chaos - to the end result. The end result, the product, is not that important to me, though it may be desirable to you, and I would like to sell it to you, the consumer, for a reasonable and mutually agreed upon value.

I used to think I was a perfectionist, and somewhere along the path I realized that perfection is rather subjective, and depends upon one's point of view. If you were to ask me if something that I had produced was perfect, I'd probably tell you "no". I do take steps toward my idea of perfection, though, and toward improvement, and it seems to me that there is always something to learn about one's self, or one's work, and the processes involved in self and work.

I like curves. A well proportioned curve is the next best thing to perfect. This is an ongoing process for me, this curve thing, and I often struggle with it. When I look around at nature, at the natural world, I see nothing that is square and straight; I see those things as human contrivances, and, necessary as they may be to the advancement of culture, or to humanity in general, or working with wood in particular; there is little attraction there for me.

I really enjoy having "shop mates". I've learned a lot by just being around (for 8 or so hours of the day) woodworkers who, if not perfect, are very, very good at what they do. Pass it on, don't keep it to yourself...be honest...let it all hang out...ask questions...listen...watch...offer advice... offer help...these are the qualities of a well functioning shop.

Joinery is often a tedious and difficult process, whether it involves people or things, and I have much to learn about it.

Sometimes a project generates a lot of waste. Sometimes the next project will require that "waste".

Here's a nice quote from Carl Jung: "What is it, in the end, that induces a man to go his own way and to rise out of unconscious identity with the mass as out of a swathing mist? Not necessity, for necessity comes to many, and they all take refuge in convention. ... It is what is commonly called vocation: an irrational factor that destines a man to emancipate himself from the herd and from its well-worn paths. ...Anyone with a vocation hears the voice of the inner man: he is called."

© 2005 Woodworkers' Co-op. Pages by @Com.


J E F F L E B E G U E
I like building things, and being around others who are building things, and have liked this from a very young age. One morning in rural Tennessee (I think that I was quite young, maybe four years years old) when my father, a carpenter, left for work for the day, and he didn't ask me to do the usual thing and come along with him. I did the very childish thing of standing behind the front door, and crying, in order the get the attention of my parents (specifically my father) because I liked to go to work, and sweep up piles of sawdust and wood shavings. I still like it now, a few decades later. Even sweeping up the shop can be part of the process of making something that I find so enjoyable. And I do prefer the process - the chaos of it, and the necessity to somehow convoke order from that chaos - to the end result. The end result, the product, is not that important to me, though it may be desirable to you, and I would like to sell it to you, the consumer, for a reasonable and mutually agreed upon value.
I used to think I was a perfectionist, and somewhere along the path I realized that perfection is rather subjective, and depends upon one's point of view. If you were to ask me if something that I had produced was perfect, I'd probably tell you "no". I do take steps toward my idea of perfection, though, and toward improvement, and it seems to me that there is always something to learn about one's self, or one's work, and the processes involved in self and work. I like curves. A well proportioned curve is the next best thing to perfect. This is an ongoing process for me, this curve thing, and I often struggle with it. When I look around at nature, at the natural world, I see nothing that is square and straight; I see those things as human contrivances, and, necessary as they may be to the advancement of culture, or to humanity in general, or working with wood in particular; there is little attraction there for me. I really enjoy having "shop mates". I've learned a lot by just being around (for 8 or so hours of the day) woodworkers who, if not perfect, are very, very good at what they do. Pass it on, don't keep it to yourself...be honest...let it all hang out...ask questions...listen...watch...offer advice... offer help...these are the qualities of a well functioning shop. Joinery is often a tedious and difficult process, whether it involves people or things, and I have much to learn about it. Sometimes a project generates a lot of waste. Sometimes the next project will require that "waste". Here's a nice quote from Carl Jung: "What is it, in the end, that induces a man to go his own way and to rise out of unconscious identity with the mass as out of a swathing mist? Not necessity, for necessity comes to many, and they all take refuge in convention. ... It is what is commonly called vocation: an irrational factor that destines a man to emancipate himself from the herd and from its well-worn paths. ...Anyone with a vocation hears the voice of the inner man: he is called."