Building Shelves & New Careers
On March 15 2020, I flew home to escape my life in Manhattan (well actually Washington Heights, the land of struggling artists and gentrification). A life of auditioning, catering, nannying, and crying on the street with Trader Joe’s bags soaked from the rainstorm, listening to Rainbow by Kacey Musgraves, frantically pulling up my mother on speed dial, questioning my life choices. And over the course of that last month, add in empty subway stations, outfits resembling Squid Game workers, and unemployment after the kids I was venmoed to make daily Lizzo music videos with started Zoom school. I had to get out. It would just be for “a couple weeks” anyway.
Over the course of the next few months in San Diego, I learned how to film self tapes with a white sheet backdrop and mediocre instrumental tracks. I submitted for a teeth commercial as the “smiling man” (which I booked, then was cut after not being able to provide the video quality they desired). I read lines for a callback with my sister-in-law as Sky and Sophie for a production of Mamma Mia in Rhode Island as my immediate family watched for cruel entertainment. I submitted for a spot teaching children online about theatre, a video that will forever haunt me. I continued to film dance callbacks for the Hairspray tour that we all knew wouldn’t happen for at least two years (which I accidentally uploaded to my work website during my second week instead of a project’s progress photos, to which my boss said she was impressed and that I’m allowed to perform anytime…better than being fired I guess). Let’s just say New York continued to suck my soul even from across the country. But during all this, I discovered the drill and the garage, and it kept me from losing it.
When I got home that spring, ignorant of the insane summer just around the corner, my parents were jazzed about the idea of building a farm table for the new back patio. I thought it was a ridiculous idea, questioning why they wouldn’t just buy one. But they pitched the idea as a project for the whole family, so I eventually got on board since the world was collapsing and I had nothing better to do. But, as expected, it turned out to be a solo project! However difficult and annoying, full of Youtube videos with old white men painfully mansplaining how to use a circular saw, I pieced together the resources and knowledge to build this table. And I’m so grateful I did. What started as the table turned into a bench, then a desk, then a sectional, then a room transformation, and so on. I was hooked. My east coast pals thought it was hilarious, considering I was doing pirouettes across the floor and belting the Time Warp in tiny gold shorts just a year prior. But this random knack for wood projects quickly turned into selling custom pieces to friends, family, and eventually complete strangers. I met a talented, generous, and kind group at Lumbercycle and learned so much from them. It all just clicked.
Fast forward two and a half years, I’m self-employed as a professional designer, still using those skills I learned in the garage and lumber yard. Although I was resistant to mix interior design with woodwork because I didn’t want to be seen as the “woodwork guy”, I eventually decided to allow both. Working at a high end design firm sans physical labor affected the way I viewed my own work. It created a feeling that I had to choose between designing and woodworking, as if they were two opposing sides. But I chose to be self employed to develop my own niche and create my own process, not mimic the old company. Cut to today: using my own comprehensive design and rendering to build shelves and a built-in bench in a piano room.
From day one of the project, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this adorable space, and even admitted it to the client on the spot. It could’ve easily been a simple pathway to the office, a bedroom, and the backyard, but something felt so fun about it and had so much potential. I will say, whoever decided to create that little nook with beautiful accent tiles definitely helped. Walking through it, all I could imagine was the built-in shelves and bench, and even after presenting other designs, we excitedly moved forward with that option. As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t originally plan on doing any of the carpentry on my larger design-focused projects, but as time went on and carpenters continued to ghost me, I realized I was more than capable (and willing) (and excited about) tackling it myself. If I can do it, and do it well, why am I spending hours on Yelp and Houzz trying to find someone else? It’s a small business supporting a small business, and it’s especially delightful because both businesses are me.
Navigating and settling into this field has been quite the adventure and I’ve learned so much, mainly through hours of trial and error (emphasis on errors). I love nothing more than exploring this work in every way possible and can’t imagine this business without being covered in sawdust or cutting my hands with screws. If you told me three years ago that I’d be selecting couches, sawing wood, and painting bathrooms for a living, I would have said you were dumb and to stop bugging me during my voice lesson. But here we are and there’s nothing else I would rather be doing, especially screaming You Can’t Stop The Beat across America for ten months. Oh quarantine, you sneaky bastard.