OVERDUE

When you get a call on a Saturday night -beer in one hand, cigarette in the other- , from a distressed customer, you know something's up. In my case, time.
Being awfully incompetent when it comes to time-management, I've had a chair in my possession for some time. I won't divulge how long, since it is truly shameful. Let's just say that this project was way overdue.
The assignment was pretty simple though: find or fashion a new undercarriage for a 70's style chair.
I had put the project aside after a failed attempt to adapt an existing carriage that I found on the street.
My customer was getting awfully frustrated, and rightfully so. I asked for one more week and got to it.

I decided to use this opportunity to test out some of the techniques and basic esthetic that I plan to incorporate into my own line of furniture.

Some hiccups aside, I'm pretty pleased with the results. Quoting the girl I'd kept waiting for so long:

"I needed a minute to get used to it. But now I'm loving it. If you have a coffeetable that needs testing, I'm your gal."

.

Kick it!

Kick-off.
Not prone to using sports-terms in any situation, this sudden inclination heralds a true Event.
Life-wise, that is. From time to time the Lines of Life converge and from this point they shoot out in every possible direction. That is usually how things go with me. Just when I think I've got everything under control, lines converge and I explode and scatter.
This time will be different, although I can't help but wince when proclaiming such an ambitious goal of self determination and control.
The workshop has been acquired, time has been put aside and plans have been made. Leaving out the small detail that I moved out of my comfy apartment and will be roughing it for the summer, I feel confident in my plans.
After some tweaking on the workshop, buying a whole lot of equipment that I still lack and getting set I will be ready for the thing they do at football.
Venturing into the (please Lord) profitable business of cabinetmaker and spending the time remaining on my own work will require all of my attention and that is a good thing. Focus. Work. Cash.
Sounds promising, doesn't it?

YUSUF

HA!
I think I just found my workshop. Yesterday I had an appointment with this real-estate guy. Not expecting too much from it, past experience with real-estate agents considering, I went out to have a look.
And just when you think your provincial town holds no more surprises it hits you right in the face like a ton of bricks. Lots of bricks.
Hidden behind an early twentieth-century apartment building in the Jewish Quarter of our city was an immense open space. On it sits an old factory, red bricks galore! A distinct impression of squatting permeated from the windowless gaps in the walls and dripped from the rusty drainpipes.
I had to wonder if this particular red-blazer was actually legit. Yusuf, that is his name, looked like he ran a night-club in Beirut. Very slick and ruggedly handsome. If I'm completely honest, the guy could've sold me into white-slavery and I wouldn't have minded. But enough of this anachronistically occidental and slightly  offensive description. The man showed me the perfect space, a good price and a spirit of laissez-faire that one must always appreciate in a landlord. Because apparently he filled both shoes.

Not only is it a good space, I would be sharing the complex with two other furniture designers, some kind of artist and a band. This might just be a good summer for me.

SIR

A workshop. There are two kinds. The one that refers to a locale and the one that is somewhat like a class.
The first I will be fully furbishing next month if all goes well.
The latter I gave this week. Tuesday to be exact.
It was at the University of Leuven. It was for Architectural Engineers. It was very good for my ego.

When I was asked give roughly twenty twenty-somethings an insight into the wonderful world of 'furnituning' -loved the term- I asked myself what I had to offer.
As usual I had a perfectly structured idea for about ten seconds and then lost it.
The only thing I arrived with were some pictures of Martino Gamper's chairs, along with an example of the  dreadfully computer-designed-sleek-I-can't-see-if-it's-real-or-rendered type of furniture that is ever present these days.

I should've told them I like doing chairs. Because there were twenty-four participants and three chairs.
The situation called for a new plan. I always struggle with the adage : "Failure to plan is to plan failure".

So the decision to just wing it made me slightly nervous. Luckily for the sake of this particular workshop, the building was filled with debris. Metal, wood, machines, computers...
A bit like The Junkyard of Miracles.
It was clear what had to be done. I needed to tell these Engineers/Architects to offroad. No plan whatsoever. Scrounge for material. Unleash the inner refugee. Ctrl X, Ctrl V.
The outcome was hilarious. And unexpected. And playful. And childish. And actually quite good.

Being more of a solitary worker myself it was fun
to see these kids -yes, I can call them kids since one of them addressed me as Sir- fooling around. It reminded me that I should not lock myself up in my own design, but confront the dialogue. Maybe in time I should find myself a workshop where there's more than just me...

                                                                  










before I remembered to stress the importance of editing

TREEHOUSE

Last week I tore down some girl's room.          www.lowimpactgirl.be

Take that literally, as I'm not otherwise inclined.

It was the best time I've ever had in a girl's room. The wild abandon that accompanied tearing down some dry-walling and cutting up a desk reminded me of kindergarten art projects. I still have fond memories of the cardboard dairy factory... Ah, times of yore.
Like any kid at one point or another I turned to building camps and feeble attempts at treehouses.
I haven't stopped since, apparently.
When talking to Astrid, the above mentioned girl, and her mom I dubbed what I did 'Treehouse'.
Doesn't sound as fancy as Bancroft or Hepplewhite but it covers the load.
And it surely describes the child-like joy I find in nailing some boards together.

GREEN WOOD

I'm building a Shoji screen at the moment. You know, the Japanese sliding doors covered in rice paper.
(apparently not made from rice at all and slightly disappointing in that aspect)

Anyway, it was just a home project and there was no rush. So I decided just to pop in at the local DIY and get myself some 'cut-to-size wood'. Not bothering to go and fetch the van of a guy I work with, since it really is such a hassle. By the time I get the van, drive it to the DIY, then home, then return the van, take my bike and drive back home I can just as easily do it all by bike.

Having some experience in hauling things around town on my bicycle, I was pretty confident about my enterprise. Strapping all the beams and boards on either side of the frame allowed me to roll quite a bit of material homeward. Not being able to make more than five degree turns was an inconvenience that did not deter me in the slightest. Quite pleased with myself I must admit, I made my way home and received an array of looks. From the worried and mocking looks of people that have probably never ridden a two wheeled vehicle before to the thumbs-uppish smiles of fellow bikers.
Since about three years back, Antwerp has seen an exponentially increasing rate of parents hauling their kids around in transport-bikes. When my sister joined in and stuffed her children in the box-bike with great success, I knew the time of the bicycle had truly resurfaced. My family is great for trend watching. We belong to that particular group that defines if and when something becomes mainstream. After the pioneers and their followers and right before the yups screw it up.

As an avid "four wheels bad- two wheels good" believer I hate driving a car. For all its utilitarian wonderfulness, I just never feel comfortable driving about town. In some cases it is unavoidable however and I know I'll have to grow up at some time and get myself a van, for business purposes. But I'm holding the fort for as long as I can.

That same night I was called away to the harbor to clear something for shipping. Some mix-up with  customs. Eleven kilometers to, and eleven fro. Two wheels good, four wheels better?

Like a boyfriend. Or a dog.

This week I'm starting on Moompupi. (ModularOmniPurposePiece)

Might want to rethink the name though. It might sound better in some Scandinavian version.

SkänkBord, for instance; which is Swedish for Cupboard-Table. Or SkàpurTafla? Icelandic for the same.

I might even give it a people-name. Like Pelle, or Gudmundbjartùr. 

Why this preoccupation with Nordic names?

 IKEA is to blame. I can't help but love them.

Shoddy quality and factory-installed failure can not wipe the hungry grin of my face when the catalogue has found its way into my hands. Nor can the suspect prices or news of tortured geese take away that warm  fuzzy feeling that blossoms in my heart upon gazing at very international family members. They frolick in the beautiful Nordic light, in their little showroom houses, surrounded by floating prices and nametags.

This is my life's ambition: to make furniture that gives people such comfort, they feel the need to name them like their pets. Billy the Bookshelf, Wilma&Anita the Curtaintwins, Kroby the Lamp.

Apparently beds and sofa's are not named like people. That might just be a tad uncomfortable.

Back to Moompupi. (Sounds very non-threatening don't you think? A bit like your grandma.)

I've moved into my appartment more than half a year ago, but it valliantly refuses to come together. As I brooded one night on how to break its spirit and make it my own I came up with Moompupi.

What I desperately need is storage space, a work surface, dinnertable, a place to plug in all my electronics and so on.

At this very moment my appartment is littered with cables of all kinds; I can't very well eat and work at the same table without it becoming very very messy; tools, books and assorted junk have infested all corners and surfaces.

Ofcourse, I could go to aforementioned IKEA and buy myself some pets. But as I am twenty-four and never swimming in it, my money should not be spent on well-named furniture.

That is why I am going to build my Moompupi out of the scraps that are left-over from previous and future projects.

This way, left-over lumber will serve a purpose and I can just add modules whenever the appropriate amount is available.

The tricky part of course is to make a basic structure with what I have so far, that will allow me to add and modify as material becomes available and my needs change.

Moompupi will provide and evolve. It will grow and change. 

A bit like a boyfriend, or a dog.

Without all the hassle.