For some time, I have been setting boundaries for myself. What kind of furniture I would do, and what I wouldn’t do. What materials I would work with, which ones I wouldn’t. Even what kind of tools I would use (although tiny shop space sort of made me have to set this boundary). Even though there are no set rules on most of this stuff, I still seemed to want boundaries. Why?
Honestly, I don’t know. However, as of tonight, I throw off all boundaries that are NOT involved in the laws of physics or other such things. If I want to build a Chippendale Highboy, so be it. I’ll build one. I’m sure I can sell it off later, so what does it matter if Jennifer doesn’t want something like that in the house? If I want to build a piece of wood art, with no useful purpose whatsoever, who cares? OK, who other than Jennifer cares? No one, that’s who.
You see, I was raised by an artist. My mother taught me at an early age to push boundaries. I didn’t have a coloring book until I was 8 years old, because my mother wanted me to be creative, not be taught to operate “inside the lines”. With an art background like this, why would I set boundaries for myself? Wood can be an artistic medium, and fine furniture can be a medium as well. Mission style furniture is art. Chippendale is art. Funky yet functional stuff can be art as well.
Why not embrace the art? I know I am. Let’s just see what happens ;)
-- "Give me your poor tools, your tired steel, your huddled masses of rust." Yep, I ripped off the Statue of Liberty. That's how I roll!