January is prototype month in my small carving shop.
While running a Folklife program for a federal agency, one of my staffers gave me a gift made by Indonesian youth. It was a sort of lobster made from egg crates and other bits and pieces. It scuttled around realistically when manipulated with a string. Next year I found some neat little autos made from cut-up bits of soda cans.
Around late October, I put some time aside from whatever projects are ongoing in the shop to work on treen - woodenware.
Once you paid your money for a ten by ten booth, it was gone unless the producer canceled the show.
The little sloop is close to a disastrous jibe, and in the tempest, it is sailing in it will probably lead to a knockdown - the sort of scenario that haunts every sailor's dreams.
This chest was not in stock long enough for me to do a proper set of photos. It sold at it's first appearance at the Maine Boatbuilder's Show to a pair of Boston Harbor pilots who were going to give it as a retirement gift to a colleague.
While teaching, I always like to decorate the workshop with carving examples for students to use as a reference. Week-long excursions to teach away from home mean emptying the house of many of my carvings. But samples in three dimensions often are better than pictures or demonstration, and the extra work was worth it.
A shop with all the tools neatly racked, and no chips are like a clean desk—a sign of a sick mind.
An old saying says, "Keep your eye on the donut, not on the hole." Well, this time, I was deep into hole territory. A simple build turned major construction.
If your play is your business, you have to take care that the fun remains in the mix - or you might find yourself doing something you hate.