A Tangible Challenge: Woodworking

This blog post is the eleventh installment of a series called “A Tangible Challenge” where each month I take one in-person class related to something I know nothing about. The goal is to step outside my comfort zone and create something new. I am so excited to share this month’s endeavor:  woodworking. (Read January’s adventure in pottery; February’s adventure in plants; March’s adventure in mosaic art lamps; April’s adventure in dumplings; May’s adventures in candles; June’s adventure in embroidery; July’s adventure in soap, August’s adventure in painted shells, September’s adventure in perfume making, and October’s adventure in printmaking here.)

When my colleague turned friend texted me on a random Tuesday night, “any chance you’re free to do a beginner woodworking class next Wednesday?” complete with the woodpile and ax emojis, I was sold. That’s how, a week later, I found myself rushing from my midtown office to Brooklyn to a place I’d never heard of. Frantic as ever, I hurried, late, into the space, found my friend, and was instantly hit with calm. 

The class included a spirit free drink and I chatted with the folks behind the bar as I settled in with an herbal tea. First, a moment on the space. The beginner woodworking class was held at a new venue in Williamsburg called recess grove. Per their website, recess grove is “a sanctuary for creativity and play: a place to make things and meet people—with creative experiences, classes, workshops, special events, and tasty food and drink.”

Despite the 4:30 sunsets that have descended upon the city, walking into recess grove felt bright and open. The space is a creative person's dream. There are art supplies and books and a little station where you can send art/letters to a friend—stamps provided. The counters and tables were all handcrafted by the owners and everywhere you turn there is a charming new detail you hadn’t noticed before. 

My friend and I joined our four classmates in craftsmanship and our instructor, Justin, introduced himself. He spoke about his experience working with wood and what the creative process meant to him before we all went around sharing what brought us into the studio. Immediately, I felt at ease and comfortable in the space, despite my brain still buzzing with a million things I’d unsuccessfully tried to leave at the office. 

For the rest of the class, we moved seamlessly together, as if we’d all signed up for the course together, as if we were all friends from the start. If recess grove is aiming for building community, they’re certainly on the right track from my experience.

We moved downstairs to the woodworking studio, again, complete with beautiful tables built by the founders. In the course of my year of classes, I’d occasionally flirted with the idea of a woodworking class—so set was I on one class in particular where you’d get to make a coffee table, that I almost said no when our friends offered to gift us their old coffee table when we moved into our new apartment. Amidst moving expenses, taking the free coffee table was absolutely the correct choice that month. That said, I arrived with my $30 ticket unsure what to expect.

We began with clamps. In true foundation fashion, Justin walked us through the purpose and use of clamps. Through measuring tools. Through the absolute basics basics basics of woodworking. And, despite growing up in a handy home and despite having built a couple wooden benches with my father and having some of these basics committed to memory, I was mesmerized.

We moved onto handsaws. I learned about how Japanese made saws cut on the pulling motion whereas American made saws cut on the push motion. At every turn, the class felt like an opportunity to not just learn from experts, but learn from people who are so clearly, deeply passionate about what they do. It’s hard not to feel inspired by that. 

Next came chisels. We used those to make our half lap joint. For the uninitiated (me five days ago), a half lap joint is a carpentry and woodworking joint made between two pieces of wood. Which is to say that, on its own, it is nothing. But it may be my proudest challenge yet. 

The thrill of chiseling and seeing the wood smooth out was electric. 

And while many of my classmates left their wood in the studio, I brought mine home to my partner and presented it like a trophy. It now sits on our bookshelf, holding up an incomplete line of books. A beautifully practical thing.

At some point in the class, someone I’d just met, in response to my talking about this challenge of monthly classes, asked what my favorite was and caught in the moment surrounded by sawdust, I wondered if the answer wasn’t this. As I thought about it more, I told him how each class had been so different whether in format or in existing knowledge or in venue. But the best classes are ones where I can let go of everything else and get lost in something creative and new. 

The class ended with a brief introduction to planes—tools used to flatten, smooth, and shape a piece of wood. I see what you’re doing here, we joked, leaving us with a little suspense so we have to come back. But the truth is, I’d come back again and again. Even if it means traveling all the way to Brooklyn. 

On the way out, we noticed stickers that said, “move slow and make things,” a motto the founders of recess grove live by. While famously bad at moving slow, I found myself appreciating the way time got lost in the studio and I found myself leaving eager to make more. My “making things” may default back to knitting a scarf or baking a cake or editing and reediting a short story. But for one perfect evening, my making was a half lap joint bookshelf bookend. And it was pretty wonderful.