Maine Wood Biennial, Center for Furniture Craftsmanship, Rockport Maine

An alternative view.

(December 5, 2009) An admirable throng congregated yesterday evening at Peter Korn’s Center for Furniture Craftsmanship in Rockport for the opening of the Maine Wood 2010 Biennial. The twenty works by sixteen artist-woodworkers inspired spirited conversation, and the hospitality was gracious.

In size, the works ranged from Libby Schrum’s intricate and intimate Jewelry Box to Lin Lisberger’s Two Bridges, a 12-foot tall sculpture of mostly unworked twigs and sticks in the shape of two ladders twisting upward, with two ladderlike bridges connecting them. Ms. Lisberger apparently didn’t miss Martin Puryear’s exhibition a couple of years ago at the Museum of Modern Art. Schrum’s Jewelry Box was actually two boxes, each suspended on either side of a small pedestal support. Rather than having lids, the boxes open by means of maple-burl shells that slide off to the right and left. Inside each, removing an upper tray gives access to additional space. The piece has very graceful lines and was perfectly finished, rewarding the eyes and fingertips as an example of interactive sculpture. But I wondered how well it would work as a jewelry box. A simpler construction might have rendered the work more user friendly. This view, however, was overruled by other attendees who selected Schrum’s piece for the People’s Choice award by a ballot taken during the opening.

Seven sponsors donated more than $2,000 worth of prizes in seven categories at the event. Winners in Outstanding Craftsmanship, Best Use of Veneer, Most Creative, Best New Maker, Best in Furniture, and Best in Show were selected by a three-person jury representing active woodworkers, museum curators, and the woodworking press.

The evening’s big winner was David Boyle of Bath, Maine for his two-drawer cabinet, “Home From the Sea,” built of hophornbeam, walnut, poplar, lilac, maple and glass. The work won both the Jurors’ Best in Show and Outstanding Craftsmanship awards. The piece caught my eye from afar. Its consists of a 35-inch high by 56-inch wide by 29-inch deep frame made of narrow hophornbeam logs sawn in half lengthwise, leaving a live edge opposite the sawn surface. The frame captures the walnut top rather than supporting it from underneath. A nest of lilac and maple branches serves as a lower stretcher and supports the casework, which was made of poplar and finished with a wash coat of milk paint. The hophornbeam of the legs and rails is a handsome, light-colored wood that Boyle worked to a fine smooth finish on the cut side, and also a fine, but longitudinally textured finish (apparently with a wire brush) on the live side. Boyle’s affection for the wood was obvious in his intricate joinery and the fine finish he gave the piece. Looking at each of the various details up close rewarded your gaze. But as a whole there was too much going on, at least for these eyes. He tried, and evidently succeeded, in pulling off all his best tricks in one fell swoop. My problem was that all the tricks didn’t play all that well together. In accepting the second of his two awards of the night, the artisan exclaimed, "I feel like I'm that Boyle woman on TV!"

My personal favorite won no award other than my vote, as far as I know. It was the solid cherry Seed Pod Vessel by Chris Steiner of Thomaston, Maine. Steiner carved the 43-inch long, 18-inch high, 8-inch wide open pitcher out of a single piece of curly cherry, centering the richly colored heartwood along the vessel’s long axis. Light tan sapwood appears like gunwales along the vessel’s sides, petering out at the fiddlehead handle and the elegant spout. As it was carved out of a single piece of wood no joinery was involved, which possibly explains why it won no award. But I admired the evident affection and skill Steiner took in not only choosing his workpiece but in expressing its innate character as well. His work brought one’s attention more elegantly than any other in the show to the beauty that was in the wood to begin with.

All items from the show can be seen at http://www.woodschool.org/gallery/mainewood2010/index.html .

Comment on Richard Sennett's "The Craftsman"

Sennett talks about the loss of Stradivari's and Guarneri's genius in lutherie, attributing the loss to the demise of their respective workshops. He says that attempts to replicate their instruments, "proceeds on three fronts: exact physical copies of the instruments' form; chemical analyses of the varnish; and work that reasons backward from the sound (the idea here being that one could copy the sound in instruments that do not look like a Strad or a Guarneri)." And reasons that, "Missing in these analyses is a reconstruction of the workshops of the master."

He argues that "the thousand little everyday moves that add up in sum to a practice" are what made those instruments the inimitable works that they are. Of course it is easy to believe that there is plenty of truth in that. But what about the MATERIAL? Wood is a living material. No two pieces of wood are any more identical than two persons' fingerprints are. Maybe someone should look into where Stradivari and Guarneri obtained their wood. Perhaps there was some climate anomaly that affected the trees that were eventually harvested for their instrument stock.

Leonard Cohen at Madison Square Garden, October 23, 2009

On the subway in, somewhere between Times Square and 34th Street, my friend Judy—whose son’s girlfriend Samantha was kind enough to pass her complimentary tickets along to us—asked me what song I particularly wanted to hear at this concert. I replied by saying something like I couldn’t imagine being disappointed no matter what the evening’s playlist looked like. But pressed for a specific title I chose, “Dance Me to the End of Love.” Immediately I heard an unfamiliar voice chime in, “Everybody Knows.” Looking up, it was obvious we were in the midst of bit of Leonard Cohen fandom as another straphanger said, “Chelsea Hotel,” and another voted for, “Ain’t No Cure for Love.” Judy completed the round by expressing her wish for “Bird on a Wire.” Who doesn’t enjoy running into friendly New Yorkers?

In his London concert of July 17, 2008, Mr. Cohen announced his appreciation to be gathered with his audience at the O2 Arena, “on just the other side of intimacy.” Madison Square Garden? Way on the other side of intimacy. With a capacity of 20,000, it only holds about seven times as many people as the Beacon Theater, where he had played in February. Much of the crowd looked to be folks who had once owned vinyl copies of “Songs of Love and Hate” but it was not an exclusively boomer crowd by a fair piece. Seated next to us, about halfway to the stratosphere, were a couple of 20-something women with big smiles on their faces in anticipation. The house looked to be 95 percent or better sold out.

At about quarter after eight, his nine-member band walked onstage with him appearing last to a gracious ovation, commencing the grace that flowed forth and back for the entire evening. He doffed his fedora, placed his right hand over his chest and bowed deeply and long in appreciation of our admiration.

As the band began “Dance Me to the End of Love,” he dropped to his knees, held his hands close to his face, and let you know you were getting the real goods. He attacked the first sound of most lines, a sforzando effect that italicized the urgency of the lover begging for the deepest intimacy two people could have. You can see all this on youtube, of course, the starting of each song on his knees, the gestures, the humility when another member of the band is in the spotlight. It was a revelation to see in person, though, even as far on the other side of intimacy as we were.

So many of his lyrics say just what you hope you could feel when you’re making love, and seeing him bringing the words to life just makes one appreciate humanity at last, despite everything. He sang parts of several songs kneeling before Javier Mas—who plays the 12-string guitar, laud, archilaud, and bandurria—encouraging their duet. Mas’s contribution to the band’s sound, a virtuosic gypsy buzz, brings out a kind of serious exoticism to Cohen’s lyrics. His extended introduction to “Who By Fire” drew wonderful applause.

The other band member who particularly dazzled was the saxophonist-clarinetist-keyboardist Dino Soldo, whom Mr. Cohen introduced as “the master of breath on the instruments of wind.” His saxophone break on “Bird on a Wire” were as fine of moments as any in the concert. Cohen’s introductions of all the band members show gracious affection—and humor, as when he introduced Hattie and Charley Webb as “performing vocals and gymnastics,” in reference to their synchronized cartwheels as he sang the line, “Yeah, the white girls dancin’” in “The Future.”

In his dark suit and hat, and a face that shows its years, he struck me as a kind of gangster of love, someone who sees the cynical world clearly in all its degrading power and ballyhooed glory, and still tells it to fuck off. Sometimes singing directly on the beat, sometimes playing off it, it’s all about whatever can best caress the meaning out of the words being sung.

Early in the concert, he told the audience that he wasn’t sure when he would ever be in town again, and so he intended to give us everything he’s got tonight. By the way he came out for encore after encore, skipping and dancing off and back onto the stage no less, he was as good as his word.