"Like OMG, I totally want one of those like, reclaimed tables, like they make at Pottery barn".
Do you know how many times I hear that?
In my head I'm saying "bitch, I set the bar, for what a reclaimed table is."
THIS...is a "reclaimed table".
It won't be neatly packaged in a box. It won't be able to be assembled with a little allen wrench.
This is 300lbs of work.
Usually I'm extremely humble about my work, but I woke up pretty surly this morning.
This table wasn't supposed to work. The deck was stacked against me from start to finish, but I conquered it. Most of the time when I look back at a piece, I pick it apart and make mental notes of what I should have or shouldn't have done. This time, I can look at it and say that I took it as far as it could go.
I have to credit Collin at Salvage One for giving me " the look " on a couple occasions, that said "no mother fucker, you're gonna make it 3' wide not 24" wide, even though you don't think you can."
He didn't have to say the words, but the look was sufficient as well as completely understood.
Sometimes your brain is your enemy. It tells you to quit. It tells you to give up.
As if there aren't enough things in the world that obstruct you, you have to fight against your own melon from time to time. Pretty bogus.
In terms of design, it's just a really long, thick, heavy table. But there is a lot to look at.
From the hand bent leg stretchers, to the hitch pins holding the legs in their sleeves, to hand cut steel dovetails, to the character of the top itself....it's a lot. None of it is decoration. Every detail serves a function.
As I was putting the final finish coat on this table, a panic set in.
It was my brain saying "what's next? what's next? what are you gonna make next?"
I sat down, lit a cigarette, and actually said out loud...