Descending Ashtray

Lately I have been disappointed with the movies I have been watching. “The White Countess” and “Memoirs of a Geisha” were incredibly boring. I actually fell asleep in the movie theater watching The White Countess which was a first for me. I have a hard time being convinced when a movie takes place in a foreign country and everyone speaks american!

There has been one gem that has stood out among recent movies and that was “A History of Violence”. Directed by David Cronenberg ( The Fly, Naked Lunch). This was probably among his best. I have not been on the edge of my seat watching a movie for a really long time and for this one I was. Go rent it, if you have not seen it already!

Brandy and I are in the process of buying a house. I am going to put my wood shop in the garage and it has a good size yard. Here are some pictures.

I get scared sometimes when the money starts running low and I think that I have to get a job. But in reality there are more important things to do, like make contraptions! I am working on a new one that is under secret production but I am posting the original to satisfy the viewers.

Contraption-
Etymology: perhaps a blend of contrivance, trap and invention.

As an artist in Iowa, you can’t avoid Grant Wood’s legacy and all that carries. I went on my own pilgrimage to find the house seen as a backdrop in American Gothic, rumored to be in Anamosa, Iowa. Apparently, it’s been torn down somewhere over the years, but a false front has been added to a similar house to give it the peaked roof and cathedral window found on the original.

The Smithsonian’s Renwick Gallery in Washington is holding an exhibition opening March 10th entitledGrant Wood’s Studio: Birthplace of American Gothic. I wish I could see it. From the Smithsonian’s site:

This exhibition will, for the first time, present Grant Wood’s decorative art and design work within the larger context of his paintings, drawings, and prints. The exhibition coincides with the renovation of the artist’s historic studio in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, known as 5 Turner Alley, where he lived and worked from 1924 to 1935. Wood converted the loft of this turn-of-the-century carriage house into a showcase for his decorative arts work and a backdrop for some of his most famous paintings.

Sounds really interesting, and from my reading, it sounds like there’s a small sister exhibition in Iowa. You should check it out, and the drive is a beautiful one. Note the false fronted house, and don’t forget to stop at the brewery (update: the brewery is apparently closed).

I was planning on making my dad a humidor for Christmas 2005, but with the Santa, I just never got to it and time slipped away. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks working on it, though.

The top is a piece of slightly spalted maple I grabbed out of a scrap bin, with birch as the main other wood. There’s a thin slice of wenge framing the maple, with alder wrapping the wenge. Everything but the maple I got from a crusty cabinetmaker’s scrap bin when I went to buy some tool or other.

I lined the interior with aromatic cedar, although I learned this weekend that that was the wrong choice. It’s supposed to be Spanish cedar, which I picked up but have yet to put inside. Smells quite a bit different. Good thing I didn’t glue the aromatic stuff in place!

You can probably still see some burn marks, and I need to oil this baby yet. But I did mortise the hinges without too much trouble, which I was really paranoid about. I’ve been using hand planes a little more frequently lately, and I have to say, they’re very handy for snug-fitting things, as well as “pre-sanding” for things like the edge banding to flush it up with the box surface. Quiet, too.

Two trees lived in close proximity together. Birch and Beech had been friends for many years. One day, a sapling appeared between the two of them.

“Birch, is that your son?” said Beech.
“I don’t know,” replied Birch, “I can’t see that far.”

Just then, a woodpecker flew up and perched on the sapling.

“Excuse me, Mr. Woodpecker, but in your expert opinion, is that a son of a Birch or a son of a Beech?”asked the Beech.

“I don’t know which of you is the father,” the bird explained, “but I can tell you it’s the finest piece of ash I’ve ever put my pecker in.”

My friend Tyler told me this last night.