As a kid, I built balsa wood airplane models, scrapwood forts in the woods behind the house, and household woodworking projects with my father. My parents quickly saw my need for more structured creative outlets so they enrolled me in a sculpture class at 12 years old. I soon learned how to draw and paint and hand-letter. I learned how to pitch baseballs and juggle, made Christmas wreaths, painted houses during college, and started working at drafting tables and computers designing books, magazines, signage, logos, and marketing campaigns. In my free time, I always found time to repair and refinish antiques and to design and build furniture. Somewhere along the way, I combined my love of graphic design, woodworking, and antiques and began creating original, salvage-inspired sign art to hang in our home, and it wasn’t long before I started commissioning work for others.

As a homeowner (we are in our seventh house), there have been, and always will be, countless self-taught projects requiring my hands including framing and drywalling, old-school window glazing, custom built-ins, handmade cabinetry for bedrooms, bathrooms, and home offices, garden fences and arbors for climbing roses, tree pruning (arguably the truest test of one’s design sense) and lending my hands in the garden at the direction of my artistic wife Julie. And now, fifty-plus years after that first sculpture class, I am carving whales — very large whales — and this will keep my hands busy for a while.

My hands are usually a mess. They crack and bleed and now arthritis is setting in. I can’t get my favorite rings on my fingers anymore and my wedding band is a permanent fixture. But it is all worth it isn’t it, as it is through my hands that life is so thoroughly enjoyed.