Thursday, January 31, 2013
I dubbed it "frankenlamp" because it was pieced together like frankenstein.
Like most of my pieces, there's a story behind it, a wordy story with misspellings, but none the less.
Back in the summer I was working on a bench in the backyard while my son and his cousin chased butterflies and hugged bunnies....yeah right...more like tackled each other, tearing up their grandmas garden, searching desperately for sharp objects to run full speed with.
My sister in law otherwise known as Sandy (pronounced Sawn-dee) was asking me what I was going to make next. I then went on about how I wanna make a lamp, just for a challenge and a change.
Well...months whizzed by and no lamp.
So, we're into November and the family does this "secret Santa" thing for Christmas, and I, of course, pick Sandy's name out of the hat.
Let me tell you about Sandy...a crafty and creative woman who is a serial killer with a needle and thread, so I knew I had to be on my creative game.
I also had to be on my creative game because there was a $25 limit for gifts.
What the fuck can you buy for $25??? so either I get her 3 gallons of gas and a lottery ticket, or make something...hence...FRANKENLAMP (insert spooky laugh here)
Frankenlamp is made of 4 pieces of scrap barn beam, held together by 4 hand cut, hand mortised Dutchman joints (bow ties) which are made from walnut scrap pieces, the steel is 1/2 steel bar, and the light is a LED puck.
So in keeping within the $25 budget, I spent $15 on the light...That's it! $10 under budget!
I ended up making a crate for it out of more scrap pieces (cause I'm all about packaging).
Christmas morning comes around, and I lug in the crate with the big "B" stamped all over it, and I can see Sandy physically praying that I picked her name...As we all know now..I did.
Not only was I able to spread some Christmas fuckin cheer, But a whole new endeavor was born, so, no...thank YOU Sandy.
Unfortunately I'm too impatient to wait for her to shoot my stuff, so I take pictures with my phone...and they mostly suck.
These are a couple shots she did in between making lunch for our son and putting her laundry together.
From fine art, to commercial, to children...her work is drop dead goregous.
Contact me to book her for now (her website is coming soon)
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
I was working at my father in laws shop on a project for the company I work for (PUNCHLIST)
While waiting for some stain to dry, I came across the scraps from the bondage lamp.
Well, I started cutting it up, and arranging it, having a full blown argument with a piece of wood at one point. Some guys in the shop exclamimed "what are you gonna do with THAT???!!"
My reply was "make a lamp...fucker" (the fucker part was under my breath) and boom, done, lamp.
Let me tell you about my mother in law...Let me tell you about me first...I suck at criticisim. I do. I pretend to take it well, but I don't. The only person who can critique' my work is my mother in law.
You see, she has been married to a master craftsman for 50 fuckin years and has seen some of the most beautiful furniture ever made come from her husbands hands. So...If she says something I made sucks..it sucks. It sucks no matter how bad I want it not to suck.
Anyway, on a nightly basis I bring my son up to her so I can walk my dog. This particular night she was going on about the lamp, and how if she had the money she would buy it and blah, blah, blah.
So I go dowstairs to get the dog, and the lamp is on the shelf. At that moment I realized it doesn't belong here, and it doesn't need to be turned into a few hundred dollars...it deserves to be loved and the only woman whos critique pushes me a little farther deserves to have it. And the fact that she really loved it inflated my ego to priceless proportions. In the end we all won and I made her will it back to me when she dies. So I won twice. hah!
The back of the chair was the result of attempting to use a hand saw to split the beam. About 1/4 of the way through, I gave up on the saw and grabbed a ax...Wham! done.
The hairpin legs give it that midcentury look everyone shits in their pants over these days.
This chair is in my private collection and will never be sold until I die, Then my son will sell it to buy some girl a ring or get himself a chopper, or pay a lawyer for some incident that will have taken place during a experiment with jagermeister. If I die in the next week or so, he will use the money from it's sale to purchase all the Avengers figures, or the angry birds game that I refuse to upload for him.