Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Construction philosophy

The more I read about fine boat building the more I realized it really wasn't for me. I just don't have the skills. Like the mother of an ugly kid, I'm still going to think my boat's beautiful--even if it doesn't have a lot of fancy joinery or bright work. I would be deliriously happy with a strong, stout boat that appears clean and neat, so I'm aiming for that.

I do hope my boat has some character. I once lived in an old carriage house in Iowa nestled in a rather eccentric community of artists and writers (Kurt Vonnegut once lived one house to the West and Gene Wilder one house to the East). Though there were downsides, like when my housemate had seven homeless pot-smoking youths living in the tiny bedroom next to mine during midterms (I wish I would  have recorded the sounds coming out of that room), the place had character. You wouldn't say it was well-crafted by any stretch, but it was kept up decently and the space was very pleasant and warm.

Here you see about 85% of the old place.
I was looking at this photograph the other day when trying to decide what made this place special to my eye. I realized the main elements were the warm, unvarnished wood planking, the old furnishings made during a time when design and durability mattered, and the way the unique shape of the windows allowed light into the room. Hopefully, I can incorporate these elements into the finished boat.

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