Popular Woodworking 2004-04 № 140, страница 107

Out of the Woodwork

Pride for Sale

I wanted my profit margin high but my ego was knocked low.

Like most woodworkers I dreamed of transforming my talent into a profitable career where I could pursue my passion and make a decent living at the same time. But like many of us, I became so intimately involved in my craft that I failed to take criticism very well. Call it ego if you will, but I think that products of my blood, sweat and tears deserve respect. Unfortunately for the business side, this often can hamper sales.

I found this out firsthand when I began to sell some of my carvings. The arrangements I made with various shops and galleries were easy enough because I didn't have to deal directly with customers.

However, I decided to work a few shows to gain more exposure and promote some more sales. I figured that once people saw how much care and craftsmanship went into each piece I built, they would beat a path to my booth to buy my goods.

Oh, was I wrong.

While my first show generated a lot of interest, it produced few buyers. This didn't bother me as much as a few of the irksome characters I encountered while there.

I'll be the first to admit that I've often prowled these kinds of shows with the intent of borrowing a few novel ideas, but at least I'm discreet about it. I had one man walk up and set one carving apart from all of the others. Then, without uttering a word, he produced a camera and began taking several photos of the piece. The final straw came when he set a quarter down next to my carving so he could scale the dimensions. That was when I intervened and told him I would rather not have him do that, but if he wished, he could plunk down another 149 quarters and take the piece home. He glared at me indignantly, snatched up his quarter and angrily stomped away.

Shortly thereafter, a young, ambitious-

looking couple strode up and showed great interest in a line of puzzles I designed.

"Do you mass-market these items?" one of them asked me eagerly.

"Pardon me?" I said.

"Have you ever approached a manufacturer with this design?" one of them wondered. "We're sure that a manufacturer would be interested in something this unique. We specialize in marketing, and this concept could easily be adapted to produce plastic versions in any color imaginable."

As a woodworker, I jumped at the opportunity to impress upon them the fact that every piece is unique for the very reason that each piece of wood has its own distinct grain, texture and color. They blankly agreed, then picked out a particularly nice puzzle made of cherry and walked away.

I had a strange uneasiness about that pair, and I won't be the least bit surprised to find plastic versions of that puzzle on store shelves in the near future. It'll confirm the fact in their minds that I was probably the biggest marketing dud they had ever seen.

But the one who stunned me the most was the boisterous man who was impressed with the finishes on my carvings. Now, it has taken me a long time to perfect the glassy-

by Angelo Paino

Angelo Paino is an outdoors writer and woodworker who lives in Komoka, Ontario, where he continues to take great pride in all of his carving creations.

smooth texture on my pieces. It involves laborious hand-sanding, several coats of lacquer and a hand-rubbed wax emulsion. The results are spectacular, if I do say so myself. One particular mahogany carving I had displayed at a show caught this man's eye, and he studied it intently.

"Are you sure this is made of wood?" he asked rather needlessly while feeling it over. "Something this smooth and shiny sure looks like plastic to me."

With that, he dug his thumbnail deep into the finish to see if it would give. It did.

"Gee!" he chuckled. "I guess it is wood. Do you give discounts for damaged goods?"

I was literally speechless, so much so that my once-jovial onlooker soon became unnerved and sauntered away. I knew right then that my attachment to my woodworking craft went a little too deep.

I've since come to realize that the pleasure I derive from my woodworking lies far deeper than any monetary value I might receive from selling it. Whether that comes from choosing the perfect piece of wood, seeing it take form with every process, or watching my favorite finish bring it to life, it's the feeling of satisfaction that I never tire of.

So as I watch each piece "leave the nest" in other people's hands, I can only hope that they grasp a little of the pride that went into the piece's construction. If that's what drew them in the first place, then that alone makes it all worthwhile. PW

104 Popular Woodworking April 2004