Whenever I visited my grandparents, my grandfather had a project going, some carpentry/building idea he was working on. Despite being from a more traditional generation he happily accepted the fact that even though I was a girl I was also the one most interested in his projects.
I loved his workshop – an amazing mess, piles of wood, pieces of broken furniture, screws and nails in baby food jars, cans of oil and paint. The smell was fantastic. Anyway, he would plan something special whenever I came and we would work together building a little spice shelf for Annie, my grandmother, or fixing the basement hatch door, you know the kind that opens over a set of stairs leading down to the basement?
He loved to fix everything, so we cut, soldered, glued, bolted and screwed things back together.
This love of designing, fixing, creating has stayed with me throughout my life. The small amount of time I’ve spent in various offices always felt like something I was doing until I could get back to the real work of my life, working with tools and material using my body, mind and imagination to create.