Misstropolis

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Discovering My Inner Carpenter

by Rebecca Dorr

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I am not a carpenter, nor have I ever been particularly good at making things with my hands.

When I was a kid, I was quite expressive and “artistic.” I had my own easel and drew a lot of rainbows. I also remember finger painting and making Christmas ornaments. But none of those things required real skill, and when it came to a broken wristwatch, a window that wouldn’t open, or any project that seemed at all mechanical, I was the quintessential first-born daughter: I went looking for dad.

As I got older and buried my nose in books, I used my hands less and less. Words became my artistic outlet. At college, my meticulously researched papers were my pride, and good grades were my reward. When I tried to construct something from scratch, I tended to fail - like the model I built for Architectural History class whose sagging rooflines were neither architecturally nor historically even close. I didn’t like to fail, so I stuck to the books.

I coasted for quite a while like this, avoiding work that required me to fix or build anything. But over time I started to feel dissatisfied with living constantly in my head. My hands were just tools typing my thoughts; they weren’t doing anything to connect me to the physical world.

I like to think the universe has a way of correcting this kind of imbalance. In my case, the universe sent a very handy (and handsome) production designer who swept me off my feet and convinced me to move into an artist’s loft in Waltham, MA. Our new home/office/studio was a gleaming blank slate – and in a kind of karmic experiment (for me, at least) we decided to renovate it ourselves.

I approached the daunting project with a sense of adventure which was a major breakthrough in and of itself. But the real test of my mettle was to come: could I handle the power tools?

One of our first jobs was sanding the dull, grayish paint off the grainy, softwood floors. We rented a newfangled four-disk sander from Home Depot which my better half wouldn’t let me get anywhere near. I was entrusted with a handheld palm sander and sent to clear paint from the room’s edges. Wearing a mask and goggles, crouching in corners, I scraped and smoothed with all the focus and intensity I put into those college papers. Each chip removed was a minor victory, connecting me to my new home.

I may be less a carpenter than a carpenter’s assistant, but I realized somewhere along the floor’s sandy edge, that it was never that I couldn’t work with my hands, but that I was too afraid to try. Now, beside my handy Production Designer, I’ve painted walls, installed cabinets, pieced together flooring, and constructed kitchen counters. I’ve hammered and measured and used obscure tools like biscuit joiners; and all of it has pulled me off my computer and into a physical world of creation that is satisfying in a whole different way than writing.

I’ll never give up my scholarly pursuits, and I’ve certainly found there are jobs I’m no good at; I’m bad with the X-Acto blade and I’m not fond of standing on tall ladders. But maybe those skills will come with time, too. As my new loft evolves, so do I.

To see the progress Rebecca and Larry have made on their studio, visit them at this weekend’s Waltham Mills Open Studios http://www.wmaastudios.org
, where they’ll be showcasing work from their film company http://devilfishfilms.com/Site/Devilfish.html
alongside 70 other talented visual artists. Ann Marie O’Dowd’s paintings, featured in Misstropolis in May, will also be on display.

Waltham Mills Artists’ Association Open Studios
144 Moody Street
Waltham, MA
November 3: 12-6
November 4: 12-5
http://www.wmaastudios.org