Live a quiet life and work with your hands

Daily inspiration. Tanamachi Studio

As a kid, I built wooden airplane models, scrapwood forts in the woods behind the house, and woodworking projects with my father. My parents quickly saw my need for more structured creative outlets so they enrolled me in a sculpture class at 12 years old. I soon learned how to draw and paint and hand-letter. I learned how to pitch baseballs and juggle, made Christmas wreaths, painted houses during college, and started working at drafting tables and computers designing books, magazines, signage, logos, and advertising. In my free time, I repaired and refinished antiques and designed and built furniture. Somewhere along the way, I combined my love for graphic design, woodworking, and antiques and began creating original, salvage-inspired sign art to hang in our home — and it wasn’t long before I started commissioning work for others.

As a homeowner (we are in our seventh house), there have been countless, self-taught projects requiring my hands; including framing and drywalling, old-school window glazing, custom built-ins, handmade cabinetry for bedrooms, bathrooms, and home offices, garden fences and arbors for climbing roses, tree pruning (arguably the truest test of one’s design sense) and lending my hands in the garden at the direction of my artistic wife Julie. And now, fifty-plus years after that first sculpture class, I am carving whales — very large whales — and this will keep my hands busy for a while.

My hands are usually a mess and now arthritis is setting in. I can’t get my favorite rings on my fingers anymore and my wedding band is a permanent fixture. But it has all been so worth it, as it is through my hands that life is so thoroughly enjoyed.

Why working with our hands gives us meaning

“Making things with our hands centers us. The simple act of doing it—of getting lost in it, of shutting everything out until we look up again and realize time has passed—is as close as some of us ever get to that feeling of inner peace.”

From “A Craftsman’s Legacy—Why Working With Our Hands Gives Us Meaning” by Eric Gorges, 2019, Algonquin Books.

Amen, brother! This passage pretty much nails it, as do countless other passages in this book gifted to me by my wife, Julie. Craftsmen of all persuasions explain why working with their hands gives their lives purpose. I wondered why I felt the need to be in the workshop. I’m happier when I’m out there working with my hands, but why is that?

I have a need to work through creative challenges on a daily basis. Seriously, no sitting idle here. When I’m deep into a project in the workshop, I get lost for hours on end. So much so, that I too detach from everything else around me, and it is in this realm—this state of mind—where I reconfirm one of my steadfast truths: I am meant to work with my hands. I can feel it deep in my bones.

What do you call it when you become completely absorbed in something, lose track of time, and feel very focused? This is called "flow." Mihaly Csikszentmihaly's book "Flow, The Psychology of Optimal Experience" explores this long-standing idea and offers extensive research on these experiences that greatly impact our lives. I read this book 20 years ago and connected with it immediately—it changed how I spend my free time.

Author Eric Gorges tells a gripping story about how he walked away from his soul-crushing corporate career after a spiraling crisis of depression and self-doubt led him to the brink of death, an experience that changed him forever. My takeaway was pretty straightforward: Life is short. Listen to your gut, find your calling, and live it.

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Inspiration: Thos. Moser Cabinetmakers

DrWhitesChest.jpg

Besides my wife, there are very few things that I can say are a sight for sore eyes. Thos. Moser’s ridiculously elegant interpretation of a Shaker classic puts me in a trance every time I see it pictured in their catalog. This past summer, I grabbed this photo of the real deal while visiting the Moser furniture showroom in Freeport, Me. After 15 minutes of absorbing every inch of this piece inside and out, my wife finally grabbed my arm to pull me away. Nooo!

I’ve been inspired by Tom Moser’s work for more than three decades now. I have all the furniture books he’s written, I’ve made the pilgrimage to his Auburn, Maine workshop three times, I’ve built a roomful of tables from his published shop drawings, took part in his company’s recent marketing research study, and my mother still sends old-school news clippings in the mail when the Portland paper writes another Thos. Moser story.

So, here’s to Thos. Moser Cabinetmakers for providing me with years of endless inspiration for new endeavors in the workshop.

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Thos. Moser Cabinetmakers

Dr. White’s chest by Thos. Moser Cabinetmakers

Dr. White’s chest by Thos. Moser Cabinetmakers