It was my Dad who taught me how to make things out of wood. I remember spending my Saturdays pulling nails out of reclaimed planking as he sanded and planed and filled the air with the smell of sawdust.
Working with wood is actually very humbling, because it’s a living thing. Even years after it has been cut, when it has been worked and shaped and sanded and varnished or painted, even been part of a piece of furniture for years, it’s still a living thing. It breathes, it expands, it reacts to the conditions around it. You can take it out of one environment – like a school, a lot of my work is with old school desks – and you can clean it up, get rid of the graffiti, and give it a new life. It needs very precise, respectful and careful work, but it also needs flexibility and room to breathe.
And it wants to be beautiful.
So I do my best to make sure it is.